Elusive Salvation (Star Trek: The Original Series)

by Dayton Ward

  “I’m not suggesting we travel anywhere,” Kirk said, holding up his hand. “We’ve done it enough times to know it’s not to be done lightly.” He paused, studying the contrasting expressions on the faces of his two closest friends.

  “What I’m suggesting is that we find a way to get some . . . specialized help.”

  Eleven

  New York City

  November 20, 1970

  Roberta Lincoln loved this town.

  Looking down from her twelfth-floor vantage point as she stood in her employer’s office, she could not help but be taken in by the sprawling metropolis that was her home. It was at night that the city truly came alive, pulsing with an energy that made it seem like a living thing. The Empire State Building, towering above everything around it, was aglow with lights on every floor. Though it had stood as the world’s tallest structure for nearly forty years, Roberta had but to turn her head to see the buildings that would surpass it: the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center. The construction of the first tower was nearing completion, with its counterpart due to finish next summer. Both towers and their attending buildings would be a hub for business, financial, and retail interests with an eye toward reinvigorating the Lower Manhattan area. The construction effort had been a massive undertaking, which Roberta had watched first from the N train as she went into the city, and later when she came to work as a secretary for what she thought was a research firm tasked with writing a new encyclopedia.

  Then had come the day Roberta learned the truth about her employers and their supervisor, the enigmatic man known as Gary Seven, signaling the end of her life as she knew it.

  After traveling around the world with Seven—as well as to one or two other exotic locales—and beholding such sites as Chicago, San Francisco, London, Vienna, Paris, Hong Kong, and Tokyo, just to name some of her favorites, there just was no comparing any of those destinations to the city of her birth. It was something to which she would not have given much thought even a year ago, but those intervening months had given her much cause to appreciate the vibrant metropolis that was New York City. Roberta could never imagine living anywhere else, on this planet or any other.

  Although that Risa has a few things going for it.

  Staring at the Empire State Building, she imagined for a moment a dirigible moored to the spire atop the mammoth structure, in keeping with some designer’s crazy idea back when the building was still under construction. She pictured well-to-do socialites boarding and disembarking the airship as it floated more than a hundred stories above the city. Such a scene had never come to pass, of course. Still, Roberta thought the idea made for an exhilarating, adventurous means of travel from this, the grandest city in the world.

  “When did I become such a romantic?” she asked aloud, for no real reason. It was not as though anyone could hear her. Seven and his cat that was more than just a cat, Isis, were away “on business,” as he preferred to put it, employing the unremarkable term to describe most of their travel, which often was anything but mundane. Two years ago, the idea of Seven—let alone her—venturing away from Earth to a distant planet was absurd, and yet here she was, minding the store while her mysterious employer and his equally baffling feline companion were on a planet billions of miles away.

  And my college advisor thought I’d only make a decent secretary. Guess she owes me an apology.

  A mechanical tone sounded from behind her, and Roberta turned to the window to see the translucent green cube, ostensibly a stylish paperweight, pulsing with light from where it sat at the head of Seven’s oversized walnut desk. Like many other items in this office, the cube presented a facade to the unknowing observer while masking its true purpose. In this case, it was an interface to yet another of the room’s hidden treasures.

  “Computer on,” called Roberta, shifting her attention to the inset bookcases near the door leading from Seven’s office. The entire set of shelves swung outward, away from the door, to reveal the sophisticated workstation and interface to the Beta 5, the advanced computer that was in more ways than one another member of Gary Seven’s team. Moving from behind the desk, Roberta crossed the office to the newly revealed mechanism.

  As the computer completed its activation, a stilted, feminine voice said, “Computer on.”

  “You rang?” asked Roberta. Though the Beta 5’s ability to act based on voice commands was impressive, it had been lacking as far as understanding casual terminology and slang. Gary Seven tended to be clipped and formal when issuing instructions to the computer, whereas Roberta had been trying to expand its vocabulary and ability to parse orders she gave it using everyday speech. So far, the results were mixed, but she vowed she one day would win over the feisty, even smug contraption.

  “Occurrence,” replied the computer. “Military satellite has detected an object beyond planet atmosphere.”

  Roberta frowned. “What? Are you sure?”

  “Affirmative, Miss Lincoln. I am intercepting and interpreting satellite telemetry.”

  “Please don’t tell me we’re being invaded by aliens.”

  “Insufficient data to render informed judgment.”

  Crossing her arms, Roberta eyed the large round display screen that was the Beta 5’s primary means of visually communicating information. “How long before you have whatever sufficient data you need to make a judgment?”

  “Object is approximately three meters in length and contains a warp-based propulsion system. I detect no weapons.”

  “Warp-based? That rules out anything launched from this planet.” According to what little nuggets Gary Seven had provided about the future of her homeworld, faster-than-light travel was an advancement humans would not achieve for another century. It was the humans of the 1970s who concerned her at the moment. “Can you interrupt any signals sent from the military satellite back to Earth?”

  “Affirmative. I am already doing so, in accordance with Supervisor 194’s directives on such matters.”

  “Great. Make sure you record a copy of anything the other . . . whatever it is . . . might transmit.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course, you’re probably already doing that too.”

  “Affirmative.”

  According to Seven, it would also be a century before any warp-capable species were due to visit Earth, at least officially. Roberta wondered if that event and humanity’s own discovery of faster-than-light travel might be related, but so far, her inscrutable employer had not deigned to share such information with her. To this point, he had been quite guarded with what he knew about Earth’s future history. Roberta suspected he was taking steps to make sure she was not confronted with too much knowledge too quickly, perhaps in a bid to make sure she did not become overwhelmed with the reality of the path her people would be traveling in the years to come. To that end, Seven also had taken a very protective stance as far as the detection of any alien signals or vessels was concerned and had instructed her and the Beta 5 to do the same.

  “Where is this thing, anyway?”

  “Currently on approach course to Earth. Trajectory suggests it has made a transit of the sun.”

  Pondering this, Roberta asked, “If that’s the case, then where did it come from?” Her grasp of the intricacies of space travel was growing thanks to her association with Seven and the Beta 5, but there was still a great deal for her to learn. However, even she was aware that a craft approaching them from the sun, assuming it arrived from outside the solar system, likely had to have been hanging around out there for quite some time. From where had it traveled, and more importantly, who had sent it? “And only three meters long? That’s not big enough for anyone to be inside it, right?”

  “Such diminutive size would preclude most humanoid life-forms.” A string of chattering and other noises sounded from somewhere within the computer’s depths, and the multicolored displays moved faster and with greater intensity, illustrating the Beta 5
’s increased processing efforts as it continued to examine and collect information about the mysterious object it had detected. “I am detecting an encoded transmission.” The advanced mechanism said nothing else, though Roberta watched and heard signs of its focused activity as it chewed on this revelation before it added, “It is a message directed to Supervisor 194.”

  “What? Are you sure?”

  “I am capable of analyzing and interpreting information to which I am exposed, Miss Lincoln,” replied the Beta 5, its mannered delivery sounding to Roberta a bit haughtier than usual. Though she sometimes liked to see if she could tweak the computer into such responses, now was not one of those times.

  “Okay, fine. Seven’s not here. Can you still play the message?”

  “Affirmative. The message is intended for you, as well.”

  “Couldn’t you have just said that to begin with?” Roberta shook her head, waving her hand toward the machine even though she knew it did not see her movements. “Never mind. Just play the message.”

  The computer’s circular display screen flared to life, and the image of a human male coalesced into view. Though he appeared older than the last time Roberta had seen him, there was no denying the identity of the man now staring at her.

  “Mister Seven and Miss Lincoln, this is Admiral James Kirk. It’s been some time since we last spoke, and I hope this message finds you well. I apologize for the unconventional nature of this communication, which is being transmitted to you via an unmanned survey probe we sent to the twentieth century using the light-speed breakaway factor or ‘slingshot effect’ we’ve used before to travel through time. We thought this was the least risky method of making contact with you. Why go to all of this trouble?” His expression softened. “I need your help.”

  Roberta listened with rapt fascination as Admiral Kirk recounted the plight of an alien race known as the Iramahl and their fight to overthrow the tyrannical rule of another civilization, the Ptaen. Her eyes grew wider when the admiral explained how the Iramahl believed a small group of their citizens had somehow found their way to Earth during the nineteenth century, and that they may have survived an apparent crash landing and could even now be living in seclusion somewhere on the planet.

  “Pause the playback,” she said after Kirk had reported this bombshell. Reaching up, she rubbed her forehead. “I feel another migraine coming on.”

  “There are a number of remedies I can prescribe for your discomfort, Miss Lincoln,” offered the Beta 5, and for a second Roberta thought the computer almost sounded sympathetic.

  “It’s just an expression,” she said. Then, before the computer could hone in on that, she added, “Continue playback.”

  Without replying, the Beta 5 complied with her instructions, and Kirk’s halted image once more began speaking. “We believe, based on what the Iramahl have told us, that even with their modified or restored life spans, the Iramahl who found their way to Earth would not have lived to the twenty-third century. In fact, we have no way of knowing if they even survived their ship’s crash, or if they died from some unknown reason at some point before old age claimed them. Our efforts to locate any remains of them or their technology have been unsuccessful.”

  He stopped, and a small wry grin appeared on his face. “Then we got the bright idea of searching for them in another time period. Naturally, your names came up during the discussion. The Iramahl feel that finding these people, or at least some record of the knowledge they possessed, is one of the few means of helping their civilization. We’re talking about an entire race here. There has to be something we can do, and I’m hoping you can help us.”

  Despite the difference in years and rank and even the uniform he now wore, Kirk’s eyes—those hazel eyes of his—still burned with the passion and determination she had seen during her previous encounters with him. That he had opted for this irregular means of making contact with her and Seven only spoke to the lengths he would go to find a solution to the problem he now faced.

  “Mister Spock has included in the message files carried by this probe information about Iramahl physiology and technology. It’s our hope that you can use them to assist in any search you make for the Iramahl. He’s also included similar information pertaining to the Ptaen, who may have sent their own people to Earth in a bid to find and kill the Iramahl. As for the probe carrying the message, it’s been programmed to head into the sun once it confirms you’ve received this message. One less thing for you to worry about.” Kirk’s expression grew somber. “I know this is asking a lot, but I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t think you were the best chance of helping the Iramahl. Given the risks involved with time travel, we won’t be repeating this stunt to contact you again. Instead, we’ve included our current date and time information from the point the probe was sent back to you, and I’m hoping you can reach out to us, if and when you’re able to tell us anything. Thank you, my friends.”

  Kirk’s image faded, leaving the display screen blank, though the rest of the Beta 5’s status indicators had once more ramped up. The computer was deep into processing whatever information it was receiving from the probe.

  “Aliens hiding on Earth,” Roberta said, again to no one. “Gee, that’s new.” The sarcasm rang in her ears as she considered Kirk’s message. After all, the idea of extraterrestrials living and lurking among humans was not a novel concept; it had been a staple of science fiction stories for decades. Beyond that and thanks to her association with Gary Seven, she had met actual aliens who really had been living here, for one reason or another, and not all of them peaceful. It had been less than a year since her last such encounter, which—interestingly enough—had also involved Kirk.

  “When did he get promoted, anyway?” The last time she had seen James Kirk, he had been a younger man, captain of a starship three hundred years in the future. So, here it was just a year later for her and he looked fifteen years older than during their last meeting, which had ended up requiring her to travel with him a year back in her time to deal with another set of aliens on the run. Only then, it had been a pair of Certoss agents from the future, doing their level best to destroy Earth so that humans could not subjugate their own race at some distant point in time.

  Too bad I’ll never be able to tell anyone about any of this. It’d look great on my resume. Of course, my brain will have exploded from all the headaches this stuff gives me, but that should make me perfect for upper management or politics.

  After more than a minute of work on its part, the Beta 5 emitted a sharp beep that echoed across the office as the computer’s banks of indicators began to subside.

  “I have added the probe’s data to my files, Miss Lincoln.”

  “Is there anything in there that might help you with finding these Iramahl characters?”

  “Affirmative, though the process will take time. Shall I begin?”

  Though Roberta did not expect the computer to find anything right away, its ability to sift through scores of recorded information was formidable. Television and radio news broadcasts, data transmitted via satellites and other government and military computers, telegrams and telephone conversations, all of it was available to the Beta 5, provided it could navigate a path into whatever network, line, or other medium was being used to route the information. She did not understand the complexities of the process, though she had learned enough during the past two years to appreciate just what the advanced mechanism could do once unleashed. It did not require rest, for one thing, and it could work on multiple problems at the same time, making it the ideal tool for a task like this.

  “Yeah, knock yourself out. In fact, expand your search parameters to include any reports about sightings of unidentified craft, claims made to local papers or news stations about people seeing aliens, that sort of thing. Order anything you find based on whether the reports were confirmed or refuted, and cross-check everything against any government records you can ac
cess.” Much of that information was not available in electronic form, she knew, in particular almost anything of a sensitive or even classified nature. At least, that was the case at present. As the influence of computers continued to grow in the private sector as well as government and military circles, the amount of information being transcribed from paper to data storage was growing by the day. Soon, there would be a time when almost all information—entire libraries—would be stored in such a manner, which would make a task like the one the Beta 5 was undertaking that much easier. For now, though, there would be a lot of fruitless searching and dead ends as the computer hopscotched its way through whatever resources it could find and penetrate.

  More to herself than the Beta 5, she said, “Seven’s going to pop his cork when he finds out about this.” In truth, she did not think her employer would react in too negative a fashion once she informed him about this latest odd development. So far, the only thing she had done in response to Kirk’s request was order the computer to begin the arduous process of sifting through untold volumes of data, a process that could take days, if not weeks or even longer, depending on what information the Beta 5 was able to access. All of that was in addition to the work she and Seven already were doing, and no doubt would be doing in the weeks, months, and even years that lay ahead. Of course, she realized there was no rush. Time, in an odd sense, was on her side, at least to a certain extent. If they did manage to find anything about these Iramahl, Admiral Kirk would still be waiting three hundred years in the future.

  And there’s my time travel headache coming back again.

  Pondering her next steps, Roberta decided that perhaps a little more help might be useful for this task. “Computer, send a message to Mestral. Let him know we’d like to have him pay us a visit.”