* * *
There were only two dozen Perenoreans, but given their extraordinary intelligence and unprecedented ability to coordinate their actions, there were more than enough of them to slowly force Spock into the recesses of the ship. Now armed with phasers, as well as modified sprayers, several of them had taken care to block all access to the shuttlebay.
All that was left were the escape pods. Settling himself into one, Spock prepared to blast free of the Enterprise despite the dangers of doing so while the ship was at warp. The vessel should be near enough now to Earth for a lifeboat’s signal to be picked up. It took only a moment to prepare the little vehicle for departure.
“Prepare for emergency ejection,” he calmly declared. “On my countdown to zero. Three, two, one…” He tensed slightly.
Zero came and went, but Spock did not.
He rechecked the controls. “Emergency ejection, priority override. On three, two, one…” Again, nothing. Spock considered for a long moment before speaking again. “Ejection failed. Explanation.”
The pod’s computer responded without delay. “Ejection command override. Priority command reset.”
Absurd, Spock told himself. The whole point of an escape pod’s programming was intended to ensure that it could carry out its designed function without any outside interference: a necessity in the event the ship’s main computer was damaged or inoperable. Denying such independence of action contradicted the very purpose of such a craft. He tried a third time.
It was following the fourth attempt that he noticed long, wide-eyed faces staring in at him. Their presence at the airlock meant that the seal around the escape pod was still secure.
His communicator was flashing for attention. Despite the internal tightness he was feeling, his response was as composed as ever.
“How did you reprogram the escape pod system?”
“Someday we will tell you.” Half a dozen other Perenoreans assembled behind him, Taell was peering into the escape pod as he spoke into his communicator. “It is a simple modification with other useful applications besides the present one.”
“I would not call the present modification either simple or useful.”
“You speak from the unenviable vantage point of disappointment and discouragement. I am sorry for that, but it is necessary Please come out. It has been stimulating, but there are more important and pressing matters to attend to. Once you emerge, you will find that all your concerns will be addressed in a satisfactory manner.”
“Because you will drug me to the point where I do not care. I do not consider that to be addressing my concerns in a satisfactory manner.”
Taell leaned forward until his face was almost pressing up against the airlock to the immobilized escape pod. “Well then, we will just have to settle for addressing your concerns in a manner that is satisfactory to us. Rest assured you will not be harmed, Mister Spock. Quite the contrary.” He managed to convey an unblemished feeling of pride. “I myself have several useful ideas I badly wish to discuss with you.”
“Your dubious attempt at reassurance depends on how you choose to define ‘harm.’ My definition would include muted awareness, dimmed powers of cognition, and loss of full control of one’s mental faculties.”
There was no question in the science officer’s mind that the leader of the Perenorean contingent was genuinely frustrated. “We only want to help, Mister Spock. To help the Federation as we have helped others. As we have helped the SiBoronaans.”
Spock met the alien’s gaze directly. “So you have ‘helped’ yourselves to control of the Enterprise?”
“It was not a course we would have taken, but we were given no choice. For no reason except for the venturing of several useful suggestions, it was decided that we should be confined to our cabins and held there until some unknown group of Starfleet scientists decided whether or not it would be ‘safe’ to allow us to continue with our visit. The notion that ignorance and indifference on the part of a few might prevent us from helping the many goes against everything our culture stands for.”
Spock could not keep an accusatory tone from his voice. “You are determined against any and all resistance to ‘help’ even those who do not seek or want your help?”
“Every species to which we lend our advice and assistance ends up better fed, healthier, and benefiting from all the improvements we provide. These gifts we give freely, expecting nothing in return.”
“Except control,” Spock quietly countered.
Taell could not contain his growing exasperation. “We do not ‘control’ anything or anybody, Mister Spock! We merely give of ourselves when and where we see an opportunity to help. I would think that being the most logically inclined of all the crew, you would understand that.”
Within the escape pod, Spock straightened in his seat. “I understand that ‘control’ is a matter of reality as much as semantics. Return to your quarters, allow the crew to recover full control of their faculties. It may be that if you are properly supervised, you could visit Earth. Otherwise, you are in violation of at least two dozen Starfleet directives and appropriate steps must be taken.”
“On that we are agreed, Mister Spock.” Taell stepped back into the semicircle of atomizer- and phaser-wielding Perenoreans. “Regrettably, steps must be taken.” Turning, he murmured to several of his colleagues. Three of them advanced to aim phasers directly at the airlock.
“You will please come out now, Mister Spock, or we will be compelled to extract you by force. Again, you will not be harmed. Do not attempt to resist. We are well aware, both from research as well as from our extensive personal contact with you, that Vulcans are on average three times stronger than humans. By the same token, I am sure that you are aware that while smaller than your kind, Perenoreans can move extremely quickly. If you attempt to flee, you will be shot. Of course, care will be taken to inflict as little physical damage as possible.”
Several moments passed with no response from the pod. This time it was Founoh who stepped forward.
“Please, Mister Spock. We have harmed no one on this ship. One could easily argue that at the present time, your crewmates are more content and more relaxed than at any time in the recent past. Once we have safely been transported to the surface of Earth and allowed to begin helping other humans, they will soon recover, albeit with memory loss of recent incidents. They will suffer no lingering damage from breathing our calming mist.” His voice hardened ever so slightly. “It would distress me personally if you were to be the first and only one to suffer injury from our need to assert our helpfulness.” Taking another couple of steps toward the pod, he leaned close just as Taell had done. “I make one personal request of you, Mister Spock. Respond logically.” With that, he retreated to retake his place in the semicircle of waiting Perenoreans.
Another long moment passed in silence, which was then broken by a distinct mechanical click and a hum of machinery as the door to the pod rolled back. The phaser-wielding Perenoreans tensed slightly, but the Vulcan science officer made no sudden moves. It was impossible to tell if Spock was resigned; his expression had not changed. As he walked toward Taell, half a dozen phasers rose simultaneously to track his advance. He halted a safe distance away from the Perenorean leaderesque.
“As I can neither fight nor flee, logically the only thing for me to do is accede to your wishes.”
Taell gestured his relief. “Thank you, Mister Spock. It would have upset me greatly to have been compelled to injure someone who has helped us so much.” Turning, he gestured to his companions. Two of the spray-carrying Perenoreans stepped forward. Eyeing the innocuous containers, Spock did not flinch.
“Please relax, Mister Spock.” Founoh did his best to sound reassuring. “It will only take a moment. Like the variant that has been used on your companions, the mist itself will have a most pleasant bouquet. As it takes effect, you will feel no change to your system, either physically or mentally.” His round mouth flexed. “Except in a few moments, you wil
l be a good deal more relaxed. Your concerns and your worries will vanish. And you will be able to function and perform all your usual duties normally.”
Spock stiffened as the two atomizers were raised and pointed directly at his face. A double dose. They were taking no chances. As both Perenoreans were about to unleash the soothing mist, the leaderesque stepped between them one more time.
“Please, Mister Spock. You are very subtle about it, but I must insist that you stop holding your breath. I know that Vulcans can hold their breath for a very long time. You will please just comply.”
Spock slumped. His posture said that there was nothing more to be done. A satisfied Founoh gestured, and in response two blasts of fine mist struck the science officer directly in the face. Closing his eyes, he inhaled. About one thing at least the Perenorean physician-in-chief had been telling the truth. The ill-omened fragrance was nothing short of enchanting. He exhaled.
“Again,” Founoh ordered immediately. A second gush of vapor hit the science officer just as he was taking his next breath. For a moment, he stood blinking and swaying slightly. As he moved nearer, the leaderesque closely scrutinized the Vulcan’s face. “How do you feel, Mister Spock?”
“Feel? I feel…” He sniffed. “I feel—quite well, thank you.” As he looked past the leaderesque his gaze fell on the patient, alert arc of armed aliens. “I see weapons. Is there some sort of problem?”
Taell gestured at his armed associates. Sprays and weapons disappeared into bright folds of concealing clothing. “There is no problem, Mister Spock. Just a momentary uncertainty now resolved. Shouldn’t you be at your station?”
Once more the science officer blinked. Memory of what he had just gone through appeared to vanish like a crumb flicked from a tabletop. “Yes. Yes, of course, you are right. I should be at… my station.” He took in his surroundings and his brows drew together. Confusion underlined his question. “What am I doing here?”
“You were kind enough to give us a tour of this section of the Enterprise. We thank you. It has been very educational. You don’t mind if a couple of my colleagues and I accompany you to the bridge, do you? Captain Kirk kindly agreed to let us monitor your daily operations.”
“No—no, of course not. We would be glad of your company.” Raising an arm, Spock gestured down the corridor in the appropriate direction.
And smiled.
For the first time since the plan to confine them to quarters had been discovered, Founoh allowed himself to relax.
* * *
As the Enterprise continued toward Earth, no one thought to remark on the frequent visits being paid by the Perenoreans to every corner of the ship. Why should they? It was well known that the aliens were highly inquisitive and no one on board saw any reason why their guests’ courteous curiosity should have to go unsatisfied. Occasionally the word “security” found its way into the thoughts of this officer or that engineer, only to just as quickly fade away again. In fact, everything seemed to fade quickly in an atmosphere dominated by warm feelings, excessive politeness, general contentment, and the lingering fragrance of soporific mist.
In his brief sojourn as captain, Jim Kirk could not remember a time when managing his duties had been so stress free. Chekov was happy to leave navigation to the ship’s computer. Sulu hoped that nothing hostile presented itself, as he was in no mood to fight anything. Uhura didn’t even bother to monitor communications. Earth? Starfleet? There would be plenty of time for casual chitchat once they arrived. Why waste perfectly good relaxing time in repetitive communications checks? Spock…
Spock spent most of his time at the science station, doing as little as possible.
The laid-back attitude of the crew stood in sharp contrast to that of the Perenoreans. They were all over the starship, probing every corner and questioning the purpose of every instrument no matter how seemingly insignificant, asking questions, examining and recording readouts. Having acquired access to the main computer, they queried it constantly. Having gained the full cooperation of the crew, they peppered specific personnel with endless queries; none were ignored, and no access refused. Everyone got along just fine.
While replies to the Perenoreans’ questions might have been lethargic, none of the responses the crew supplied to Starfleet upon entering Earth orbit were similarly sluggish. When they occasionally showed a tendency to slide toward incomprehensibility, there was always a Perenorean at hand to coax a clearer response from the bridge crew. Sulu had no difficulty docking the ship—not with computers to do most of the work and an attentive Perenorean by his side to correct his minor mistakes.
The presence of the Perenorean delegation on board was already known to Starfleet. All that remained was for them to be processed and then shuttled down to Earth. There they would be dispersed to scientific centers and learning centers scattered across the planet. Not only would they be able to ask any amount of questions, they could immediately begin to share their suggestions for improvements with their human hosts.
As for the crew, the Perenoreans believed any differences of opinion as to what might have happened in those final days prior to arriving at Earth would wither with time. None of the officers who had once been aware of the potential “danger” posed by letting Perenoreans run free on Earth would be able to dredge up an inkling of a memory of that supposed threat. Confused and uncertain as to the meaning of something they could not properly recall, they would choose not to dwell on it. Uncomfortable with a notion doomed to linger forever on the edge of understanding, they would set it aside. Left unchallenged, the aftereffects of the mind-deadening fragrance that had been circulated through the ship would prevent full recovery of relevant memories.
On the bridge, Taell put a seven-fingered hand on Kirk’s shoulder. The main viewscreen showed a clearly visible Starfleet dock. Maintenance teams were already moving toward the starship.
“It is time to go, Captain.”
“Go?” Still seated in the command chair, Kirk looked up at the Perenorean leaderesque. “Go where?”
“Official clearance. You, Doctor McCoy, and Mister Spock are to escort us. Once we have been passed through the last checkpoint, your responsibilities toward us will be considered fully discharged. Aren’t you looking forward to going down to the surface for some much-needed and well-deserved rest and relaxation?”
Smiling beatifically, Kirk rose from the chair. “I don’t see how I could get any more relaxed than I’ve been for the past—how many days has it been since we left DiBor?” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. It’s been a pleasure having you on the Enterprise, Taell. All of you friendly little furry guys.”
“We of the DiBor colony look forward to a long and mutually advantageous relationship.”
Kirk put his arm around the Perenorean’s narrow shoulders. “You need to come with me to Iowa. Great bars in Iowa. Lotta memories there.” His expression twisted, as if the thought of memories was on the verge of conjuring up unsettling ones that had nothing to do with cornfields and alcohol. Then he inhaled again of the slightly cloying but soothing air of the bridge and his facial muscles relaxed.
Lilacs, he thought. Always liked lilacs. Yesterday it had been hibiscus.
They joined McCoy and Spock in the airlock. The science officer was smiling contentedly. For the second time that morning, Kirk found himself slightly disconcerted. Spock did not smile. But it wasn’t as if he was frowning or angry, was it? If his mouth was going to take a break from its usual set, why not into a smile? Kirk beamed as broadly as he could manage. If the science officer wanted to engage in a grinning contest, he would not find James T. Kirk wanting.
McCoy was beaming, too. Not the Perenoreans. They couldn’t smile. Not with those silly permanently puckered round mouths. But they seemed happy enough. This pleased Kirk. The Enterprise had arrived safely, they were home, and everyone should be happy.
With the Perenorean delegation chatting amiably in their own language and clustering behind the three officers, the group lef
t the Enterprise and ambled into the transfer corridor. Espying a barrier at the far end, Taell and Founoh moved up to stand beside Kirk.
“What is this obstacle before us?” Though calm as ever, there was a touch of uncertainty in the leaderesque’s voice. “Have we not been granted preliminary clearance?”
“What, that?” Kirk gestured carelessly at the closed portal ahead of them. “Normal operations. While we wait here, the air in this corridor is being checked for possible contaminants we might have picked up on our journey even as it’s being continuously refreshed. Standard hygienic procedure for anyone who’s returning to Starfleet and Earth from outsystem.” Leaning toward the leaderesque, he put one finger to the side of his nose and whispered conspiratorially. “Never know what kind of potentially dangerous pathogens a starship crew visiting a new system or two might inadvertently acquire.”
McCoy nodded agreement from nearby. “Even though it’s unlikely an alien pathogen could infect a human system, Starfleet will never take that chance.”
Founoh spoke, but not to reply to the human doctor. “What he says makes sense, Leaderesque. As the captain says, the delay is doubtless part of their routine disembarking procedure. Returning to the Eparthaa from visiting another world, we would do the same.”
Taell tried not to show his impatience. “We need to get off this orbiting station and down to the surface, where we can begin to irrevocably ingratiate ourselves to more important personages.” He indicated their cylindrical surroundings. “Now that we are off the Enterprise and away from its enclosed recycled atmosphere, the effects of the mist will begin to wear off.”
“Yes, yes.” Founoh was unconcerned. “Their memories as to what occurred will remain compromised. Even if there is some partial recovery, we will be well established on their homeworld and will have made indispensable ourselves, our knowledge, and our suggestions.”
“Helpfulness always,” Taell concurred.
“Helpfulness first, last, and forever,” Founoh added. “It is our destiny to provide assistance to those who, no matter how intelligent and well meaning, and through no fault of their own, simply do not see things as clearly or as quickly as the Perenoreans.”
The Unsettling Stars Page 22