Star Trek 07

by James Blish

  "We'll try it," McCoy said, with a startling cackle. "Don't just stand there, Dr. Wallace. Synthesize me a batch. Dammit, get cracking!"

  On the bridge, Commodore Stocker was in the command chair. If he was aware of how many backs were pointedly turned to him, he did not show it; he was too busy trying to make sense of the many little lights that were flickering across the console before him.

  "Entering Romulan neutral zone, sir," the helmsman said. "All sensors on maximum."

  Now who was that? "Thank you, Mr. Spock, sorry, Mr. Sulu. Lieutenant Uhura, let me know if we contact any Romulan."

  "Yes, sir. Nothing yet."

  Stocker nodded and looked down again. The little lights danced mockingly at him. As a cadet he had studied a control board something like this, but since then, everything seemed to have been rearranged, and labeled with new symbols which meant nothing to him, with only a few exceptions. Well, he would have to depend upon these officers—

  Then the Enterprise shook sharply under him, and half of the little lights went red. Ignorance overwhelmed him. "What was that?" he said helplessly.

  "We have made contact, sir," Uhura said in a dry voice.

  "Romulans approach from both sides, sir," Sulu added.

  The ship shook again, harder. Swallowing, Stocker said, "Let's see them."

  The main viewscreen lit up. It too was full of crawling little lights, which could not be told from the stars except for their motions, which he could not read either.

  "I don't see any Romulans!"

  "The ones that are changing color, sir. They change in accordance with their rate of approach—"

  The ship bucked under him. All the lights went red.

  "We're bracketed, sir," Sulu said evenly.

  There was a buzz he couldn't locate. "Engineering calling, sir," Uhura said. "Do you want power diverted to the shields?"

  His face felt bathed in sweat. "Yes," he said, at random.

  "Mr. Scott asks how much warp power to reserve."

  What was the answer to that one?

  "Commodore Stocker," Sulu said, turning halfway toward the command chair. "We're in a tight. What are your orders?"

  The Enterprise shuddered once more, and the lights dimmed. Stocker realized suddenly that he was too scared to speak, let alone move—

  Then, mercifully, Kirk's voice, thin but demanding, came through the intercom. "What's going on up there? Lieutenant Uhura, this is the Captain!"

  "Sir!" Uhura said. "We have violated the Romulan neutral zone, and are under attack."

  "The fool. Maintain full shields! I'll be right there."

  Stocker felt as though he were about to pass out with relief, but the ordeal wasn't over yet. Voices, more distant, were arguing over the open intercom:

  "Jim . . . you can't. . . neither of us . . . Nurse . . . Doctor Wallace . . ."

  "Got to . . . get to the bridge . . ."

  "Oh Jim, you can't . . . Nurse . . . In there . . ."

  Then the voices snapped off. Clearly, Kirk was not about to bail Stocker out yet. Rousing himself, Stocker said, "Lieutenant Uhura, keep trying to raise the Romulans."

  "Very well. No response thus far."

  "If I can talk to them—tell them the reason why we've violated the neutral zone—"

  "The Romulans are notorious for not listening to explanations," Sulu said. "We know—we've tangled with them before."

  "Hail them again!"

  "I've hailed them on all channels," Uhura said. "They're ignoring us."

  "Why shouldn't they?" Sulu said. "They know they have us. As long as we sit here, they can kick away at the screens until they go down."

  Stocker ran a hand through his hair. "Then," he said, "we have no alternative but to surrender."

  "They'd love that," Sulu said, his back still turned. "They have never captured a starship before. And, Commodore, they never take prisoners."

  "Then what—"

  "Sir," Uhura said, "you are in command. What are your orders?"

  In Sickbay, Nurse Chapel and Janet had Kirk pinned down on a bed. He struggled to get up, and despite his aged condition they were having trouble restraining him—a task further complicated by the unpredictable shuddering of the Enterprise.

  "Greenhorn—up there—ruin my ship—"

  "Jim," Janet said through gritted teeth, "if I have to give you a shot—"

  "Jim, lay quiet," McCoy said. "You can't do any good. We're through."

  "No, no. My ship—"

  Spock appeared from the laboratory, carrying a flask. "Dr. Wallace, here is the drug. It's crude, but we had no time for pharmacological tests or other refinements."

  "All right," said McCoy. "Let's go."

  "It will cure . . . or kill." Spock handed the flask to Janet, who loaded a hypo from it. "A safer preparation would take weeks to test."

  "What is it?" Kirk said, quietening somewhat.

  "The hormone intermediate," Janet said. "It has to be given parenterally, and even without the probable impurities in it, it could be extremely hard on the body. Cerebral hemmorhage, cardiac arrest—"

  "Never mind the details," McCoy said. "Give it to me."

  "No," Kirk said. "I'll take the first shot."

  "You can't," McCoy said firmly.

  As if on cue, the Enterprise shook again. "How long do you think the ship can take a pounding like this?" Kirk demanded. "I've got to get up there!"

  "Jim, this could kill you," Janet said.

  "I'll die anyway without it."

  "Medical ethics demand—" McCoy began.

  "Forget medical ethics! My ship is being destroyed! Give me that shot."

  "The Captain is correct," Spock said. "If he does not regain his faculties, and get to the bridge to take command in a very few minutes, we shall all die at the hands of the Romulans. Give him the shot, Dr. Wallace."

  She did so. For a moment nothing seemed to happen. Then Kirk found himself in the throes of convulsions, bucking and flailing at random. Dimly he was aware that all four of the others were hanging on to him.

  It seemed to last forever, but actually hardly a minute passed before the fit began to subside, to be gradually replaced by a feeling of exhausted well-being. Janet was pointing a Feinberger at him.

  "It's working," she said in a hushed voice. "The aging process has stopped."

  "Can't see any change," McCoy said.

  "She is correct, Doctor," Spock said. "It is there, and accelerating."

  "Janet, help me up," Kirk said, taking a deep breath. "That was quite a ride."

  "How do you feel?" she said.

  "Like I've been kicked through the bulkhead. Spock, you'll have to wait for your shot; I need you on the bridge. Janet, give McCoy his shot, then Scott." He smiled. "Besides, Spock—if what I've got in mind doesn't work, you won't need that shot. Let's go."

  In transit, he felt stronger and more acute with every passing second, and judging by the looks of relief with which he was greeted on the bridge, the change was visible to others as well.

  "Report, Sulu!"

  "We are surrounded by Romulan vessels—maximum of ten. Range, fifty to a hundred thousand kilometers."

  Stocker got out of the command chair in a hurry as Kirk approached it. Kirk punched the intercom. "Engineering, feed in all emergency power, and all warp-drive engines on full standby. I'm going to need the works in about two minutes. Captain out . . . Lieutenant Uhura, set up a special channel to Starfleet Command. Code Two."

  "But, Captain—"

  "I gave you an order, Lieutenant. Code Two."

  "Code Two, sir."

  "Message: Enterprise to Starfleet Command, this sector. Ship has inadvertantly encroached upon Romulan neutral zone. Surrounded and under heavy Romulan attack. Escape impossible. Shields failing. Will implement destruct order, using corbomite device recently installed. Since this will result in destruction of Enterprise and all matter within two hundred thousand kilometer diameter, and establish corresponding dead zone, all Federation
ships to avoid area for at least four solar years. Explosion will occur in one minute. Kirk, commanding Enterprise. Out . . . Mr. Sulu. Course 188, mark 14, Warp Eight and stand by."

  "Standing by, sir."

  From his station, Spock said, "The Romulans are giving ground, sir. I believe they tapped in, as you obviously expected them to."

  "A logical assumption, Mr. Spock. Are they still retreating?"

  "Yes, sir, but are still well within firing range."

  "All hands stand by . . . now, Warp Eight!"

  The ship jolted—not this time to an onslaught, but to sudden motion at eight times the speed of light. Spock hovered over his console.

  "The Romulans were caught off guard, sir. Not even in motion yet."

  "Are we out of range, Mr. Sulu?"

  "Yes, sir. And out of the neutral zone."

  "Adjust to new course. One nine two degrees, mark 4. Heading for Star Base Ten."

  "Coming around, sir."

  Kirk sat back. He felt fine. Commodore Stocker approached him, his face full of shame.

  "Captain," Stocker said, "I just wanted to assure you that I did what I thought had to be done to save you and the other officers."

  "Noted, Commodore. You should know, however, that there is very little a Star Base can do that a starship cannot."

  "If I may say so, Captain, I am now quite aware of what a starship can do—with the right man at the helm."

  The elevator doors snapped open and McCoy came out. He was as young as ever. Kirk stared at him.

  "You're looking good, Bones."

  "So's Scotty. The drug worked. He pulled a muscle during the initial reaction, but otherwise he's feeling fine. Now, Mr. Spock, whenever you're ready."

  "I'm ready now, Doctor."

  "Good. Because of your Vulcan physique, I've prepared an extremely potent shot. I've also removed all the breakables from Sickbay."

  "That is very thoughtful of you."

  "I knew you'd appreciate it."

  Kirk smiled. "All in all, gentlemen, an experience we'll remember in our old age . . . of course, that won't be for a long time yet, will it?"

  ELAAN OF TROYIUS

  (John Meredyth Lucas)

  * * *

  Kirk's orders were simple. He was to "cooperate" in all matters pertaining to the mission of his passenger, the Ambassador of the planet Troyius.

  It was the implications of his orders that were complicated. First, the Ambassador's mission was top secret. Second, his negotiations involved the notoriously hostile people of Elas, a neighbor planet. As if such "cooperation" weren't enough of a headache, both planets were located in a star system over which the Klingon Empire claimed jurisdiction. By entering the system, the Enterprise was inviting Klingon retaliation for trespass.

  Kirk was frankly irritated as he swung his command chair to Uhura. "Inform Transporter Room we'll be beaming-up the Elas party at once. Ask Ambassador Petri to meet us there."

  "Yes, Captain."

  At his nod, Spock, McCoy and Scott followed him into the elevator. Kirk said, "Some deskbound Starfleet bureaucrat has cut these cloak-and-dagger orders."

  The intercom spoke. "Bridge to Captain." It was Uhura's voice.

  "Kirk here."

  "Captain, signal from the Elas party. They're ready to beam aboard but demand an explanation of the delay."

  "Here we go," Kirk said. "What delay are they talking about? All right. Forget it, Lieutenant Uhura. Beam them aboard."

  Spock said, "The attitude is typical of the Elasians, sir. Scientists who made the original survey of the planet described their men as vicious and arrogant."

  "That's the negative aspect," McCoy said. "I've gone over those records. Their women are supposed to be something very special. They're said to possess a kind of subtle—maybe mystical—-power that drives men wild."

  Spock gave McCoy a disgusted look. It was still on his face when the elevator door opened to reveal the waiting Troyian envoy. Kirk addressed him immediately. "Ambassador Petri, suppose you drop this diplomatic secrecy—and tell me what this mission of yours is really about."

  "That must wait until the Dohlman of Elas is aboard, Captain."

  "Dohlman?" Kirk said as they all entered the Transporter Room. "What the devil is a Dohlman?"

  "The thing most feared and hated by my people. Our most deadly enemy," Petri said.

  The Transporter Room's hum deepened—and three figures sparkled into substance on the platform. They were soldiers. Breast plates covered their chests. Weapons of no recognizable variety hung from the barbaric chains around their necks. The biggest Elasian soldier, thick-jawed, heavy-browed, covered the Enterprise group with his strange weapon.

  "Welcome. I am the Ambassador of Troyius," Petri said.

  The ape-jawed giant ignored him. "Who runs this ship?"

  Kirk said, "The Enterprise is under my command. I am Captain Kirk."

  "And I am Kryton of Elas. That Troyian there is a menace. I must know that all is secure here before the Dohlman is brought aboard."

  Spock lowered his voice. "Captain, the weapons resemble twenty-first century nuclear disintegrators."

  Kirk spoke to the bellicose Kryton. "My ship is secure. What's more, we are equipped to repel any hostile act." He turned his back on the Elasian to say to the Transporter Room technician. "Energize!"

  The center transporter platform went luminous. The three Elasians dropped to one knee. Glaring at Kirk, Kryton growled, "Quickly! To your knee! Do honor to the Dohlman of Elas!"

  Kirk's jaw tightened. Beside him, acquiescent, Petri sank to one knee. "It is their custom," he muttered. "To stand is a breach of protocol."

  Spock looked at Kirk. Annoyance on his face, Kirk nodded. The Vulcan hesitated; then, he, too, bent his knee. The sight increased Kirk's annoyance. It was abruptly dissipated. On the center platform the "deadly enemy" of Troyius had appeared. The Dohlman was a silver blonde. Her skin had the pearly tone of dreams. So was her body the stuff of dreams. Nor was it hidden. The scanty metallic scarves she wore served no purpose but suggestion of beauty too overwhelming for complete revelation.

  Kryton said, "Glory to Elaan, Dohlman of Elas!"

  "Glory is right," Kirk thought, controlling an impulse to kneel himself. Instead, he bowed. Then, raising his head, he looked again at the Dohlman of Elas. Under the silver blonde hair, her eyes were dark. Aflame with contempt, they swept over the kneeling men. At a snap of her fingers, her soldier bodyguard got to their feet, Kryton, addressing Spock and Petti, said, "Now you may stand."

  She came forward, Kryton towering behind her, tense, his weapon at the ready. Her own hand rested on the elaborately jeweled hilt of a dagger suspended from a golden chain she wore around her slim waist.

  "Odd," Kirk said to Spock. "Body armor and nuclear weapons."

  "Not without precedent, sir. Consider the Samurai customs of old Earth's Japanese. Even we Vulcans preserve some symbolic remnants of our past."

  Kryton growled again. "Permission to speak was not given!"

  Before Kirk could retort, Elaan said to Spock, "You rule this ship?" The voice was husky, infinitely feminine.

  "I am the ship's First Officer. This is Captain Kirk."

  She made no sign of acknowledgment. Petri interposed hastily. "Your glory, I am Petri of Troyius. In the name of my people, I bid you welcome to—"

  "Your mission is known to me," she said with negligent scorn. Then, turning to Kirk, she added, "You are permitted to show the accommodations."

  He pulled himself together. "I think we'd better have an understanding right—"

  "Please, Captain," Petri begged.

  Kirk said, "My First Officer, Mr. Spock will show you to your quarters." He turned to leave. "Ambassador Petri, I want to speak to you."

  Elaan's words came like a whip. "You have not been dismissed."

  Incredulous, on the edge of explosion, Kirk gave his response second thought. He decided to shrug. "May I have your glory's permission to leave?" he asked
silkily.

  "You are all dismissed," she said.

  Outside in the corridor Kirk wheeled on Petri. "All right, Ambassador! What exactly are we supposed to be doing?"

  Petri drew him aside. "She—that woman is to be the wife of our ruler. The marriage has been arranged to bring peace. Our two warring planets now possess the capability of mutual destruction. Some method of coexistence had to be found."

  "Then we return to Troyius?"

  "Yes. But slowly, Captain. I will need time. My mission is to teach her civilized manners before we reach Troyius. It must be clear to you now why I'll need time. In her present savage condition my people would never accept her as queen."

  "You've got yourself quite a mission," Kirk said.

  "Those are my orders. I must ask you and your crew to tolerate this Elasian impudence for the sake of future peace. It is vital that friction now be kept to a minimum."

  "That I can understand," Kirk said.

  "There's another thing you should understand, Captain. You have as much at stake as I have. Your superiors know that failure of this mission would be as catastrophic for Federation planning as it would be for our two planets. The peace we'd gain by accepting such an untutored wife for our ruler would not be peace." He drew a deep sighing breath. "I will take her the official gifts I bear. Perhaps they will change her mood."

  Kirk said, "I hope so." But what he thought was: "Shrew, termagant—a knockout fishwife is what I've got on my ship!"

  Troubled, he stopped at Sulu's station as he re-entered the bridge. "Mr. Sulu, lay in a course for Troyius. Impulse drive-speed factor point zero three seven. Take us out of orbit."

  Sulu looked startled. "Impulse drive, Captain?"

  "That is correct, Mr. Sulu. Sub-light factor point zero three seven."

  Scott looked up from his station. "Captain, you'll not be using the warp drive? All the way on impulse?"

  "Correct, Mr. Scott."

  "That'll take a great deal of time."

  "Are you in a hurry, Mr. Scott?"

  "No, sir."

  "That's it, then." But he'd scarcely reached his command chair when Spock hurried to his side. "Captain, the Dohlman is dissatisfied with her quarters!"