Star Trek - TOS - Battlestations

by Diane Carey

  politics is simplistic. If she succeeds in throwing the

  technology up for grabs, as it were, she will likely

  81

  instigate something too forbidding for her to conceptu-

  alize. A cosmic scramble."

  The phrase was unfamiliar to me, yet it hit me like

  the smell of bad weather. Sensitive to the glances of

  Scanner and Merete, who were taking all their cues

  from me, I squinted and forced myself to add up the

  sketchy evidence and paste it into something familiar.

  Galactic powers plus hot technology plus trigger-

  brained scientists equals .... "A feeding frenzy."

  Spock pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully. "An

  apt comparison. Cosmic scramble is a colloquial term,

  of course, but an accurate one. Mornay underesti-

  mates the severity of her actions. When cosmic scram-

  ble begins, individual lives and galactic peace are

  forfeit. Mornay is virtually sentencing herself and the

  other scientists to violent deaths."

  "And Boma wants to head it off, but the other

  scientists wouldn't listen to him."

  "In a word, yes. Boma approached Captain Kirk

  because--"

  "For the same reason Paul Burch did when he

  wanted to foil Rittenhouse's plan," I guessed. "He

  knew Captain Kirk would be dependable and discreet.

  Right?"

  "Correct. He also knows the consequences of cos-

  mic scramble. A dozen petty wars could erupt that

  could pull down the structure of the galactic order as it

  now stands. If a hostile government gains the

  transwarp technology, the balance of power could

  shift drastically. Whoever has it could become a super-

  power, both economically and militarily."

  "It's that special?" McCoy interrupted. "Isn't it

  just another form of propulsion?"

  Spock frowned. "In simplistic terms, it is. How-

  ever, the added complexity is this Mornay and her

  team were spearheading special research for a process

  for the extreme refinement of dilithium into tri-

  lithium."

  82

  He stopped talking, his black eyes landing on Dr.

  McCoy. I watched the exchange in silence, as did

  Scanner and Merete, and recognized a sort of repartee

  going on. Spock remained silent, obviously waiting,

  punishing McCoy for his earlier jibes and forcing him

  to betray his own ignorance.

  McCoy shifted uncomfortably, pursed his lips, and

  glanced around. He soon broke under the you-igno-

  rant-boor treatment. "Well, all right," he blurted. "Go

  ahead."

  "Trilithium," Spock said, hiding his victory and

  thus doubling it, "existed only theoretically until four

  years ago. It is the compound that allows the advanced

  flow of energy to be compacted into transwarp drive.

  Dr. Mornay managed to synthesize it in solid form, but

  it exists only in a matter/antimatter-fiux environment.

  In other words, once the power source is turned off,

  the trilithium instantly degenerates. Last year, Mor-

  nay, Perren, Boma, and Sarda combined their abilities

  and devised the mechanism that would allow trilithium

  to retain its integrity for a workable period even when

  the system was not in flux. And that, Doctor, is far

  more than just another form of propulsion."

  Spock spoke his words carefully, knowing the situa-

  tion had become tangled. It was imperative that we

  understand; he knew that too. And because of the way

  he spoke, with concise eloquence, we accepted the

  cruciaiity. Slowly I began to understand. ff the

  Klingons, the Romulans, the Orions, the Tholians, the

  K'zinti, or any of a handful of hungry governments

  thought they could get this new high science... truly a

  feeding frenzy. And the Federation would participate

  just to keep the science out of hostile hands. It would

  have no choice. Just as Rittenhouse had believed the

  Federation could win any war he induced, Mornay

  was probably making the same bet.

  I licked my lips. "Her deal includes unconditional

  amnesty for herself and the others?"

  83

  Spock's chin went up a little. "How did you know?"

  I shrugged. "It makes sense." I declined to tell him

  it was what a desperate human would do. I didn't need

  any more embarrassment.

  Nodding slowly, Spock once again touched the con-

  trol, and once again the face dissolved into a new face.

  The consummately human features of Ursula Mornay

  fizzled and reformed into the angularity of Vulcan

  features. Resisting those plaguing thoughts of Sarda, I

  forced myself to get familiar with the new person. He

  was a young Vulcan, though not as young as Sarda,

  and his hair was the same black as Spock's, but

  untrimmed. It hung almost to his shoulders, caught

  back only by Vulcan ears that were slightly more

  backswept than Spock's. His silver-gray eyes bore a

  glimmer of defiance--or was I imagining it?

  "The third team member," Spock continued. "His

  name is Perren. He is a specialist in interspace phys-

  ics. He and Mornay have worked closely for eight

  years on the science of transwarp. While Mornay is

  the theorist, Perren is the applied scientist. She refined

  the concept, and he developed the actual hardware for

  transwarp, the engineering itself."

  "Another Vulcan working on an instrument of vio-

  lence?" Merete asked.

  Spock acknowledged her with a tip of his head.

  "The transwarp is not an instrument of violence in and

  of itself. However, you're correct in implying that

  Perten has deviated from approved Vulcan lines of

  morality."

  "You mean he's like Sarda," I bridged. "Ostra-

  cized. He doesn't fit in on Vulcan because of his

  propensities."

  "He is like Sarda," Spock agreed, "but only to a

  point. Sarda regrets his . . . divergence from Vulcan

  practices and is trying to mend it. Perren," he said,

  "makes no apologies."

  84

  I was only half listening as Spock explained our

  reasons for being at Argelius. That Mornay and her

  team had escaped to this distant planet, near the edge

  of disputed space, to use the passionless culture and

  neutral standing of Argelius as a fortress against

  everybody. Odd. The threat of cosmic scramble on the

  most sedate planet in the known galaxy. It was posi-

  tively poetic.

  "Even the Federation is not formally aware of the

  theft as yet," Spock was saying. "So far, Mornay has

  made no announcement, but time is of the essence.

  Boma wanted Captain Kirk to get here first. He wants

  the captain to convince the science team of the danger

  they're causing and find some other means of negotia-

  tion before the major powers go into scramble."

  I straightened my back and it cracked. But I had to

  ask. "And me?"

  "You, Commander Piper, are the captain's ace in

  the hole, as you say. Sending Enterprise
to Argelius

  would be rather conspicuous--"

  "Yeah," Scanner grunted, only then pointing out

  how quiet he'd been. "Like a battleship in a bath-

  tub."

  Spock paused, trying to visualize that, and finally

  opted to ignore it. "I will return to my shuttle and we

  will approach the city in question from two directions.

  Your assignment is to locate Lieutenant Sarda and

  separate him from Morhay and Perren. I will then

  attempt to isolate Perren, leaving Professor Mornay

  for Captain Kirk to handle."

  "Divide and conquer," McCoy said.

  "Essentially. Also, if the scientists are separated,

  they will be unable to give over the complete technol-

  ogy. The threat will be effectively cleaved."

  The edge of my chair creased into my thighs. "But

  Captain Kirk is back on Earth," I protested. "He was

  yanked right off the schooner and taken under guard

  for questioning--"

  85

  "Captain Kirk," Spock said, "will be here when the

  time is right, Commander." "Butre"

  His confidence in Kirk, even lacking the explanation

  I craved, squeezed away every last suspicion that I

  might be part of a plan that hadn't been thought out

  and carefully executed, with me playing the part of

  some cog in the middle of the mechanism. Spock's

  glare bored through me, and when it was disrupted by

  a slow blink, we both understood our concepts of

  Captain James Kirk.

  I let it go. Part of command was learning to live with

  half the answers.

  "Sir," I began slowly. "I know things look bad for

  him, but I can't--I don't believe Sarda is a willing part

  of all this. He's a victim of circumstance. I'm sure of

  it."

  "Based on what, Commander?"

  Now I froze. Had it been Kirk asking me that

  question, I'd have given him an unqualified "intui-

  tion." But this was Spock. Spock, who required all

  parts to all equations. Whose manner demanded preci-

  sion from me. Why did I feel Sarda was innocent?

  Finally I said, "He'd have no reason to run, sir.

  He's a Federation honoree. He's been on the 'right'

  side all along."

  "And?" The steady eyes probed me, Unfiltered and

  discerning, cutting straight through to the most human

  part of me.

  So I said it.

  "And I trust him."

  Spock nodded, evidently satisfied by something a

  Vulcan shouldn't really understand at all. He slowly

  said, "I agree with you."

  In my periphery, I saw Scanner's jaw slacken as he

  stared at Spock. Whether his awe came at my sudden

  credibility or Spock's almost human display of faith in

  Sarda, I couldn't tell. Guilt stabbed me. Doubt came

  rushing back upon me from my conversation with

  Merete. Now that I'd spoken my piece, could I back it

  up? Or, more crucially, would Sarda back it up?

  "However," Mr. Spock went on, "we must main-

  tain our caution. You know of Sarda's struggle to

  become fully Vulcan, and of the intense strain he was

  under until you brought the problem to me. I must take

  partial responsibility for his welfare, since it was I who

  recommended a Vulcan tutor for him and bridged the

  relationship."

  My skin bristled as I added up the infinitesimal clues

  in his tone. My teeth sank into my lower lip, and I

  tasted the dryness of complication. Quietly I said, "Perren."

  A deep silence fell behind my voice. Suddenly the

  situation took a dive for the intricate. Its entangle-

  ments shone in Spock's expression as he watched us

  all add it up in our minds, for he more than any of us

  knew the labyrinths of being Vulcan.

  He shifted his long legs and started talking again.

  "Sarda and Perten knew each other already. Perren

  had the advantage of not possessing typical Vulcan

  prejudices against Sarda's talents. Yet, while he is a

  renegade in his own way, Perren is older than Sarda

  and had already advanced through Vulcan training. He

  was the logical selection." Spock fixed his eyes on

  nothing for a fleet moment. Was he apologizing, in his

  way? He knew we had both interfered with Sarda's life

  and, no matter the noble purpose, may have placed

  him in a compromising position. Or a position whose

  temptations were too much, even for a Vulcan.

  Spock jarred me out of those gray thoughts when he

  asked, "May I speak with you privately, Com-

  mander?"

  "Oh.. 2' I glanced sheepishly at the others.

  "Right.". Scanner slapped his knees and stood up.

  86 87

  Merete and McCoy tried to disguise their curiosity in a

  casual stroll aft, and I l onged for their presence once

  we were alone.

  "Commander, this is rare information I must give

  you now," Spock began, steeping me in the elegance

  of his control. "There are certain things you must

  know before you can effectively deal with Lieutenant

  Sarda."

  I nodded. "I understand."

  This wasn't easy for him. I could see that. He

  evidently had put much thought into whether or not to

  tell me whatever it was. Finally he made his commit-

  ment. "Vulcan training methods are matters of great

  privacy. They are more than simple passings-on of

  information. They provide my only cause to question

  Lieutenant Sarda's part in this incident."

  He was stalling. He might even be hoping I would

  come to those unspeakable conclusions on my own, to

  spare him the trouble of speaking them. In deference

  to him, I tried.

  "You're saying," I began, "Sarda might be loyal to

  Perren in some way?"

  My question made him uneasy. He gazed downward

  at nothing, saddled with a decision no Vulcan wants to

  make whether or not to let a non-Vulcan in on the

  privacies they guard so dearly. Yet there was another

  perception pressing him, beyond just the rupture of

  Vulcan privacy; we both felt it. A human who could be

  friends with a Vulcan is an instant complication. The

  weight sat on me now.

  Slowly he said, "The mental training of young Vul-

  cans cannot be simplified, Piper. It cannot be reduced

  to a matter of mere words."

  "But, sir, it's a matter of computer record," I told

  him. "I was just reading the library tapes--"

  "The computer record," he interrupted, "is not

  Vulcan." Troubled by what he was trying to say, or not

  to say, Spock indulged in a sigh and sought for words

  88

  to explain what could not be explained. Something too

  deeply personal for words. "On the screen, there are

  words in print," he said. "There is no clinical way to

  convey the depth behind the words. It is the difference

  between a dictionary definition and the intimacy of

  personal interaction." He looked at me now to see if I

  understood, and his eyes no longer wavered.

  I nodded for his sake. "You mean a kind of symbi-


  otic relationship, beyond the learning of facts and

  controls? Something social?"

  The eyebrows, their change of position on his

  stately face, gave me my answer.

  "Vulcan training involves a mental endowment, tu-

  tor to pupil and vice versa. A... spiritual bond, if you

  will. And it is accomplished by meld. Under normal

  circumstances, I consider it illogical that Sarda would

  willingly take part in espionage. However, his liaison

  with Perten, at so crucial a time in his disciplines, does

  change the facts."

  For the first time my doubts, my questions, about

  Sarda took body. To my shame, I had to fight through

  an ugly twinge of jealousy in order to think with a clear

  head. "A sympathetic relationship," I murmured.

  Spock nodded. "And potentially dangerous now.

  Quite frankly, I am dubious of Perren's state of mind

  also. Ordinarily, a Vulcan would never condone the

  conditions Mornay has presented, would never so

  offhandedly gamble with countless innocent lives. If

  Perren's Vulcan attitudes have so completely con-

  torted, there is cause for worry."

  With a deep breath I concluded, "Meaning we have

  no idea what mental condition Sarda's in right now."

  His tone of voice sank low. "Yes."

  89

  Chapter Six

  "May we together become greater than the sum of both

  of US."

  --The Savage Curtain

  AROELIUS IS ONE of a handful of planets bordering

  disputed space, relatively safe and unravaged on the

  edge of the Federation envelope. Relatively, of

  course, being the key word. These planets also tend to

  draw occasional undesired attention because of their

  proximity, and if there is some galactic incident it is

  quite likely to involve one or more of them. Most of

  those border planets handle their teetering rather well.

  Argelius, however, is a planet of insipid passivity. Its

  people, like the Vuicans, had once been warlike and

  snappish, but evolved, unlike the Vulcans, into a re-

  gresslve society that stresses extraordinary complais-

  ance. Its people, even its children, rarely quarrel even

  among themselves. They can't even work up a good