[Star Trek Logs 02] - Log Two

by Alan Dean Foster - (ebook by Undead)

  “Lock on second target,” Kirk ordered calmly. He noticed M’ress looking at him with admiration. She didn’t sweat, but she was panting heavily—nervous, Kirk knew. Obviously she didn’t know that starship captains only sweated on the inside of their skins. That’s why they were so irritable all the time.

  “Locking on second vessel, Captain,” came Sulu’s reply. A second later, “locked on, sir.”

  “Phasers and torpedoes, Mr. Sulu. Stagger the torps, try to run them at the same spot.” Maybe they could overload the Romulan’s shields at one point. Discouraging her ought to be as effective as destroying her.

  “Firing, Captain.”

  There were brilliant flashes on the screen from the vicinity of the Romulan ship as her screens reeled under the dual assault. Sulu’s eyes remained glued to his indicators, his voice a battle monotone.

  “Phasers… direct hit, sir.” There was a flash so bright it blanked out the screen for a moment. “Two photon torpedo hits.”

  But the Romulan, now warned, had brought his shields up to maximum power and had taken the blinding energies without damage. Kirk heard Spock’s report and tried not to look disappointed. If the Romulan computers got a torpedo in behind their one good deflector shield…

  “Prepare to fire again, Mr. Sulu.”

  “Standing by, sir.”

  The third attack wasn’t necessary. One second the Romulan ship was hard in pursuit, the next it was fading rapidly from sensor range as her commander broke off the engagement and headed back into the depths of the neutral zone.

  “Losing contact, sir,” reported Sulu. “She’s arcing.”

  Kirk’s voice was full of relief and satisfaction. “Going back to help her disabled companion. Good. A fight to the end wouldn’t do either side any good.”

  “Maybe the pounding we gave the first one,” Sulu began, but Kirk was shaking his head.

  “I don’t think so, Mr. Sulu. The Romulans exhibit a number of reprehensible characteristics, but cowardice isn’t one of them. No, they were expecting our defenses to collapse. That’s why they didn’t attack right away. When our shields suddenly went back up—

  “Their whole plan from the moment of interception was predicated on a number of things happening. When their carefully laid schedule started to go awry, they decided to call it off. The Romulans like their ambushes neatly planned in advance. They don’t like surprises.

  “Speaking of surprises, Mr. Spock, exactly how badly did we damage that other Romulan? Check your recorders, please.” Spock turned back to the library computer console, activated the request.

  “I hope it wasn’t too bad,” Kirk added. “Severe damage or loss of life might force the Romulan High Command into continuing a fight they’ve lost interest in. They’ve got a lot of pride.” Spock’s answer relieved Kirk’s concern on that score.

  “First vessel’s main power supply was knocked out, Captain. Injuries to personnel should be minimal. She should be able to run on secondary drive, but slowly. With the aid of the other ship the Romulans should be able to repair her well enough to reach their nearest naval station.”

  Kirk granted in satisfaction. He swung to look at the elevator as engineer Scott appeared, approaching him.

  “Good work, Mr. Scott. That deflector shield went up just in time.”

  Scott’s reaction was not what Kirk expected. Instead of a smile of pleasure at the compliment, the chief engineer looked confused, startled.

  “But, sir, the shield connections haven’t all been repaired yet. I came forward to see if I could be of help up here. My technicians are still carrying out the final repairs. They’ll need over an hour yet, just like I said.”

  Spock left his library station and walked over to join the conversation.

  “Interesting.”

  “But, confound it, Scotty, the shields went up! At least, the main one did. If you haven’t finished repairs, then what—” He paused. A sudden gleam of comprehension dawned.

  “Of course! Winston, or rather, the Vendorian.”

  “It is not outside the realm of possibility, Captain,” agreed Spock. “If he could rearrange his own internal structure to become an examination table, one must assume that he could also rearrange himself to become—”

  “A deflector shield?” Despite the evidence that seemed to point to the Vendorian, Kirk was doubtful. “And take the uncontrolled energy of a battle cruiser’s full assault phasers?” He shook his head. He wanted to believe such a thing was possible, but—

  “Vendorians are marvelous mimics, Mr. Spock, but super-beings they’re not. No living organism could spread its substance that thin and take that kind of—”

  “He did not become the deflector shield, Captain,” Spock corrected. “There are many instruments—complex controls, switching elements and other electronic components—in a medical examination table. I cannot conceive of a single creature becoming a deflector shield, either, but a series of broken cables, force-links, and other damaged connections? Do not forget, the Vendorian had an excellent look at the very linkages he broke.”

  Scott had been listening to all this and had achieved nothing except some practice in feeling twitchy. Now his curiosity turned to frustration.

  “Will someone please tell me what’s been goin’ on?” he pleaded, thoroughly confused.

  Before either officer could reply, the doors to the elevator dilated again. They all glanced automatically in that direction.

  The orange shape that half-stood, half-floated in the portal was by now familiar to Kirk and Spock, but the nightmarish image was something new to Scott and the other bridge personnel. M’ress hissed softly.

  “What manner of beastie is that?” gulped Scott.

  “That is your deflector shield, Mr. Scott,” said Spock.

  “My defle—” Scott’s look showed he wasn’t sure which was more alien—the thing in the doorway or the ship’s first officer. He looked back at the Vendorian.

  “That is essentially true,” the Vendorian commented in the voice of Carter Winston. It sidled toward them. “I did what I could.” Despite its multiple lenses, it turned and seemed to face Kirk, a human gesture.

  “I assume the danger to your ship is over, Captain?”

  “It is. Unless the Romulans have some other surprises.”

  “I do not believe that they do,” the Vendorian replied.

  “I am glad. I’m sorry that I endangered your ship and your people. Such was not my intention.”

  Now maybe Kirk could get the answer to a question that had been bothering him ever since they found out that the strange spy was a Vendorian.

  “Why did you do it? What possible reward could the Romulans have offered you?”

  “To understand that, Captain, it is necessary to tell you a little about myself. The remainder can be supplied by Lieutenant Nored.” Kirk glanced over at the lieutenant, who was watching the Vendorian closely.

  “My… attachment… to the human Carter Winston provoked much comment among my people, Captain. I have always felt and acted somewhat differently from the Vendorian norm. Mental deviates are not treated with compassion on Vendoria.

  “As Carter Winston continued to live and I continued to spend more and more time attending him, my aberration became much commented upon. But there was a lock, a bond between us that transcended mere shape and species. I felt I somehow had more in common with the injured human than with other Vendorians.

  “They began to shun me. I became an outcast among my own kind, Captain. But this I did not mind… as long as Winston lived. But when he died, my people continued to look upon me with distaste, to avoid my company and presence. I grew by turns lonely, then bitter, and then desperately lonely once again.

  “Though time passed, my situation did not change. I was still treated as a pariah. When a Romulan ship visited the town on whose outskirts I lived as a recluse—” He paused. “They have been visiting Vendoria quite regularly, by the way, for the past several of your years, always hopi
ng to ally themselves with my people. But we would have none of them.”

  “Interesting,” commented Spock. “I must make a note of that. I know my father, as well as a number of other ambassadors, will be interested in such information. I expect they will have a few words to exchange with their Romulan counterpart.” He moved away, back to the library station, to dictate a report of the Romulan’s violation of the Vendorian quarantine.

  “You were saying,” prodded Kirk, “that your people would have nothing to do with the Romulans.”

  “And why should they? The Romulans had nothing to offer them. But I,” and the faint light of the eye lenses seemed to glow a little more intensely, “I was another story. My people had rejected me. I was a useless outcast.”

  “The Romulans had nothing to offer me—except a life, Captain. A chance to perform functions of value. We may seem at times a frivolous and idle race, but it is literally a matter of life and death for a Vendorian to be occupied in a useful function, to be doing something of value.

  “Vendoria no longer offered me this; indeed, by their lack of companionship my people effectively forbade it to me. So in desperation I agreed to do what the Romulans requested of me. You must understand, Captain, that function among us, to be considered worthwhile, must be of value not only to the doer, but also to someone else.”

  From the first, Kirk’s feelings toward this alien intruder had been somewhat less than fraternal. But as Winston’s “voice” spun a tale of a tortured past, he found himself coming to regard the Vendorian less and less as a belligerent invader and more as an individual, a victim of circumstances beyond his control—a prisoner condemned by his own compassion.

  “What finally changed your mind about the Romulans—and us?”

  “It seems, Captain, that I have become more Carter Winston than I knew. Perhaps my friends and associates on Vendoria sensed it even better than I. My refusal to recognize this change in myself no doubt drove them even farther from me.

  “I had to fight myself to comply with the Romulans when they first revealed to me their plan to take your ship. But finally I realized that if they could not capture the ship, they were willing to destroy it and all of you on board. That’s when I felt the sorrow that I know Carter Winston would have felt.

  “He loved life and other lives so much, Captain Kirk. Because of him I could not allow the Romulans to harm Anne, or any of you.

  “So as you and Mr. Spock have surmised, I changed myself yet again. I became the very linkages in the deflector system that I had broken. It was… very difficult. The most difficult change I have ever had to make. The internal arrangements especially had to be so precise, so delicately aligned. I had to structure myself to permit current to pass through my body.” He seemed to sway back and forth on those thick tentacles.

  “But I could not allow you to come to physical harm through my actions. Through the actions of… of Carter Winston.”

  Kirk nodded slowly. “I think I understand. At least, I think I understand as well as it’s possible for a non-Vendorian to.”

  “I cannot go back to the Romulans now,” echoed the hollow voice. “I have menaced your ship and its people, and I cannot go back to Vendoria. What will happen to me now?”

  This was ridiculous! The creature swaying slowly in front of Kirk had nearly caused the destruction of the Enterprise. Kirk had no business, no business at all, feeling sorry for it.

  However…

  “You’ll have to stand some sort of trial first, I suppose,” Kirk guessed. Abruptly he found himself working very hard and not too successfully to suppress a smile.

  “To my knowledge, no Vendorian has ever been tried in a Federation court before. I expect they’ll have to make some rather novel arrangements to prevent you from becoming, say, the judge or the jury computer.

  “But you did save the Enterprise from the Romulans. You’ve done both good and evil to us in a very short space of time, Vendorian.”

  “Carter Winston will serve as well as any name, Captain. He has not had need of it for many months, now. And somehow the name feels… right.”

  “Okay, Winston. It will be up to the court to decide whether or not saving us from the very difficulty you plunged us into in the first place obviates your initial belligerence.” He touched the back of his neck, remembering.

  “Personally, I don’t intend to press charges. And I don’t think anyone else will, either. It’s the gentlest assault I’ve ever been subjected to.”

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  “Until we can put you planetside, I think it would be best for the mental stability of my crew if you remained in the guise of Carter Winston.”

  “I understand, James Kirk.” Tentacles lifted and crossed. Lt. M’ress hadn’t witnessed the transformation yet, and she hissed softly. Once more the orange cephalopod was gone, Carter Winston stood in its place.

  “I’m also afraid,” Kirk continued, trying to put some bite into his voice, “that I’ll have to ask you to remain under guard. I’m beginning to trust you, I think, but—”

  “That’s all right, Captain,” smiled Winston. “You’ll feel better knowing I’m under observation, at least until we are back in Federation-controlled territory. Knowing that the pair of pants you put on in the morning really are a pair of pants.”

  “You’ve appropriated Winston’s sense of humor, too, I see.” Kirk’s smile grew. “I think you’re going to be all right… Carter. I’ll buzz security. One guard ought to be enough.” He edged a hand toward the call button.

  “Captain, could you possibly assign me that duty?” Kirk had completely forgotten about Anne Nored. He glanced over at her. In doing so he completely missed the expression of surprise that had come over Carter Winston’s face.

  “But—” Winston stuttered, “you have seen me. You know what I am.”

  “I’ve been a starship officer for some years now, Carter,” she whispered. “You see, I’ve changed a little, too. Since we’ve been apart I’ve seen a lot of strange things pinwheeling about this universe, even a few that might shock you. In the final analysis form doesn’t seem nearly as important as certain other things.”

  “As Carter Winston—even as a part of him—I think there’s a better life for you than the Romulans or anyone else can offer. Oh, damn!” She actually stamped her foot.

  “I don’t know how to say it—can we at least talk about that?” Her eyes were imploring.

  “I don’t… know.” Kirk saw that Winston was totally confused. This was the last thing he’d ever anticipated. Helplessly he looked to Kirk, who nodded at Anne.

  “You have the guard detail, Lieutenant.”

  She smiled. “Thank you, sir.” She gazed back at Carter Winston with a look of … Kirk shook his head. Anne Nored was right. The universe was indeed full of beautiful, strange, and unexpected surprises.

  They headed for the elevator.

  As it happened, McCoy was on his way up in the same cab. He moved to one side and watched as alien and Anne got in. The door closed behind them.

  The doctor stood pondering for a moment. Then he crossed to where the Enterprise’s three other senior officers were clustered in animated conversation.

  “You caught him.”

  “Acute observation, doctor.”

  McCoy’s mouth twisted. “Ho-ho-ho and a Merry Christmas to you, too, Spock.” He looked over at Kirk. “I’m glad to see him under guard, Jim. If he’d turned into a second Spock, it would have been too much to take.”

  How prophetic are the idle jests of man! There would come a time when McCoy would have occasion, if not the desire, to recall that phrase.

  But for now it only provoked an innocent chuckle from Kirk and Scott.

  “Perhaps so, doctor,” the first officer of the Enterprise agreed. “But then, two doctor McCoys might just bring the level of medical efficiency on this ship up to acceptable minimums.”

  “Careful, Doctor McCoy,” warned a grinning Scotty as McCoy, topped again, d
id a slow burn. “I’m not sure life-support can keep things livable with all the heat you’re puttin’ out.”

  “Heat? I’ll give you heat… !” McCoy began.

  PART II

  THE LORELEI SIGNAL

  (Adapted from a script by Margaret Armen)

  V

  They eventually dropped Carter Winston off-ship in the system of Valeria. It was the nearest world to their exit from the neutral zone that was capable of dealing with the peculiar case of Carter Winston.

  Not surprisingly, Anne Nored asked to be transferred to the security detail that would keep an eye—several eyes—on the prisoner both prior to and after the trial.

  Not surprisingly, Kirk granted her request. He’d already come to the conclusion that if Carter Winston/Whatever was absolved of wrongdoing in diverting the Enterprise into the neutral zone—Kirk had told the Vendorian to plead compulsion—the presence of Anne Nored would be the best thing for him.

  It would probably also be the best thing for Anne Nored.

  He was mildly concerned that the Romulans might still try to make hay of the Enterprise’s incursion into the neutral zone, exhibiting their own damaged ship as evidence of the brutal Federation’s unrelenting bellicosity.

  As it developed, a number of things conspired to prevent this.

  For one, there was the fact that the Enterprise had encountered not one but two battle-ready, fully prepared cruisers. They’d badly damaged one and put the other to flight, though the Romulans would doubtlessly insist that the second had broken off the engagement only to go to the assistance of its injured comrade.

  Far more influential was Spock’s official report, with corroboration by Winston, of continued Romulan visitation to the mutually quarantined world of Vendoria. Politicians handled this awkward situation in the usual way. A number of high-ranking officials quietly got together, shared a few drinks and dirty jokes, and decided to let the whole matter drop.