by Judith
Kirk nodded. He knew. On the Enterprise, the systems and personnel were always ready. Any errors or mistakes belonged only to one person.
Spock dropped his voice, not quite to a whisper, but to something which only Kirk could hear. “If I may, you seem preoccupied.”
Kirk glanced at his science officer. He hadn’t spoken as a member of the crew. “Just reviewing my options.”
“You expect complications?”
“Spock, we had complications dealing with a primitive spaceship that had only two crew members. And now we’re facing an entire planet. Complications isn’t the word for what I’m expecting.”
[171] “You have prepared for every foreseeable eventuality,” Spock said.
“It’s the unforeseeable ones I’m worried about.”
“It is not logical to worry about that which you cannot know. Rather, you should have faith in your ability to respond to the unexpected, as you have demonstrated so ably in the past.”
Kirk knew that Spock was making a touching attempt to give a pep talk to his captain, but as usual, the science officer was far too serious in his delivery of it. “Faith, Spock? Doesn’t that smack of ... emotions?”
Spock’s face became completely blank, a reaction which Kirk had long since recognized as the half-human, half-Vulcan’s response to minor embarrassment.
“Perhaps I have used a colloquialism where it was not necessary. I was simply trying to suggest that you have strong reason to have confidence in your skills as you have used them in the past.” Spock glanced away for a moment. “I was speaking as a friend, not as a semanticist.”
“Why, Mr. Spock, you’re sounding more like Dr. McCoy each day.”
Only someone who knew Spock well could see the subtle look of alarm that came to his face. “I most certainly hope not,” he said, then returned to his post.
“We are within groundbased detection range, Keptin,” Chekov announced. “Talin active sensors consist only of low-level radar. Talin passive sensors are confirmed as optical tracking networks.”
“Full countermeasures, Mr. Chekov,” Kirk said.
“Aye, sir. No surprises.”
Kirk scanned the substations ringing the bridge, looking for alarm signals. But there were none. The Enterprise was undetectable to the Talin’s current level of technology because her sensors could completely manipulate any electromagnetic signal sent in her direction. And with her running lights extinguished and all ports shuttered, there was virtually no chance of an optical scanning system spotting the Enterprise in the high orbit necessary for deploying fixed-position sensor satellites.
[172] A paging whistle sounded from the bridge speakers. “Scott to Captain. We’re ready to deploy the first satellite, sir.”
“Mr. Chekov?” Kirk asked.
“All boards clear, sir.”
“Lieutenant Uhura?”
“All military communication channels are being monitored. No change in readiness levels.”
Kirk knew he had to make a decision. The sensor satellites were small and radar transparent. But they would orbit in altitudes accessible to the Talin and transmit data in tightbeam bursts. It didn’t matter that the First Contact Office had requested their deployment and took full responsibility. I’m the one giving the final order, Kirk thought. He made a fist, certain that there was more to Talin than anyone yet suspected. But the bottom line was that he had no good reason for refusing to proceed. Only a hunch. And that wasn’t good enough.
“Away satellite,” Kirk ordered.
A few seconds passed. Kirk watched the lights on the control panel as they told the story of what was happening in the secondary hull. The hangar bay doors opened. The satellite boom deployed. The tractor beam pushed. The umbilical detached.
Scott’s voice came back on the speaker. “Satellite one away, Captain.”
“Shall I run a systems check?” Spock asked.
But Kirk waved the question aside. “We’ve got a whole planet on alert down there, Spock. Let’s not do anything until all the satellites are in position. That way, if we do have to hightail it out of here, at least we’ll be able to collect some data from a distance.”
“ ‘Hightail,’ Captain?”
“Strategic withdrawal, Mr. Spock.”
Sulu turned around. “Coming up on second insertion point in five minutes, Captain.”
Kirk nodded. “As long as the boards are clear, we proceed.” But the boards only responded to active sensors like radar, and [173] Spock had said the Talin were extremely patient. For Kirk, that meant one of the options he had to consider was that the Enterprise was already under optical surveillance, and that the Talin were biding their time. He didn’t like that option at all.
Minutes from the deployment of the eighth and final satellite, Lieutenant Carolyn Palamas came to the bridge. She wore a communications earpiece and carried a small device, about twice the size of a screenpad stylus, which Kirk had never seen before.
Palamas took up position by Kirk’s chair. The Enterprise was on the planet’s nightside and the screen was filled with the constellations of glittering cities, tracing the rough shorelines of the primary continent.
“More than two billion of them ...” Palamas said softly.
Kirk knew what was in her mind. There was something godlike in traveling unseen and unknown over such a planet, knowing that the power of the Enterprise would be enough to forever alter the planet’s history and development. But in this case, the Enterprise was restrained by an even greater power: the words of the Prime Directive.
“For what it’s worth,” Kirk said, “Talin’s military leaders appear to be responsible beings. They know what all-out warfare would mean and are in constant negotiations to prevent it.”
“I know,” Palamas said. She held up the small metal cylinder she carried. “I’ve been listening in.”
“What is that?” Kirk took the cylinder from her. It had an FCO serial number stamped on its side and a familiar though surprisingly small computer display. “Not a universal translator?” If Starfleet engineering had begun another round of downsizing, they were going to have to start issuing new smaller fingers as well.
“Not a full translator,” Palamas explained. “This is programmed just with the Talin languages. Eighteen major families and two hundred and twenty-seven dialects.” She offered Kirk a second earpiece. “The crew is extremely interested in knowing [174] what’s going on on Talin. I’ve been preparing update digests for them.”
Kirk slipped the earpiece into position and heard a computer voice re-enacting both sides of a conversation concerning a violation of airspace. One side claimed that an illegal overflight had taken place. The other side denied that any aircraft had been in the area at the time. Kirk felt his stomach tighten.
“They’re not talking about us by any chance, are they?” Though he knew that Uhura would have informed him of that situation, he wanted to take no chances.
Palamas shook her head. “The incident took place about two hours ago near one of the Greens’ polar airbases, long before the Enterprise took up orbit. Mr. Cardinali suspects a Brown highspeed surveillance aircraft was detected executing an unauthorized flyby.”
Kirk pointed to the earpiece. “Who are we listening to here?”
“Regional military commanders talking over a diplomatic radio frequency. It sounds as if they’re both trying to defuse the situation. It would be a lot better if the Browns simply admitted that one of their aircraft had strayed too close to the Greens’ base, though.”
Once again Kirk was caught by the lieutenant’s clear eyes and the hope that shone so brightly in them. “Things are seldom that simple, Lieutenant. Especially in a military confrontation.”
Palamas seemed not to hear. She moved closer to Kirk’s chair. “I like it when you look at me that way.”
Kirk smiled, but only for an instant. They had shared important time together in the past few days and he was glad of it. But the bridge of the Enterprise was not the pr
oper forum for such memories. He handed back the earpiece and the translator. “You have me looking forward to the long voyage out of this system,” he said softly, and it was all the acknowledgment he would make to her.
“Let me know how the situation plays itself out, Lieutenant.” Kirk was referring to the airspace dispute.
[175] “I’m anxious to know how it turns out myself,” Palamas said, referring to something else. She took her translator unit over to show Uhura.
“Coming up on final satellite insertion point,” Sulu announced.
Chekov followed the routine that had been established. “All boards still clear.”
Uhura was next. “No change in military alert levels.”
Kirk gave the order to deploy the last satellite. All went smoothly.
“Shall I begin the systems check now, Captain?” Spock asked.
“Mr. Sulu, set in an automatic warp-out-of-orbit maneuver to engage at the first indication we’ve been detected.” Kirk turned to Spock. “When Sulu’s finished programming our escape hatch, you may proceed, Spock.”
Wilforth stood up from his chair beside Dr. Richter at the engineering subsystems monitor. “May I go prepare the intrusive-collection team, Captain Kirk?”
Kirk had known there was a good reason for the way Richter and Wilforth had conducted themselves so conscientiously during the last orbit. They knew he still hadn’t committed to allowing an FCO team to be beamed down from low orbit.
“You may prepare the team, Mr. Wilforth, but the final decision to send them remains with me.”
“We’ve already agreed to that, Captain.” Wilforth offered his hand to Richter to help the old man from his chair, but Richter waved his cane to force the FCO director back. Wilforth shrugged and headed for the turbolift.
“Mr. Wilforth,” Kirk said suddenly, “are you intending to beam down with the team? If I give the word?”
Wilforth seemed surprised by the question. “Why, of course, Captain. It’s my operation. I must take full responsibility.”
Kirk shook his head. “That’s not quite correct, sir. As of now, it’s my operation. And I’m the one who must take full responsibility.”
[176] It took a moment for Wilforth to realize what Kirk had said. “Surely you don’t intend to ... beam down with us? Do you?”
Kirk enjoyed seeing the look of discomfort on Wilforth’s face. “Come now, Director, it won’t be the first intrusive-collection landing party I’ve been on.”
“Oh, I realize that,” Wilforth said, eyes wide and round. “I just hope it won’t be your last.”
SIX
Lieutenant Kyle leaned over the transporter console and punched in a final string of setting commands. “And that’s the lowest I dare go to guarantee brain function, Mr. Spock. Even then, an unexpected solar flare or energy burst could disrupt the signal so badly that ...” He shrugged.
Spock was unperturbed. “At an altitude of sixty-three kilometers the transporter beam will be effectively shielded from solar flares by the planet’s atmosphere. Energy bursts might arise from nuclear weapons detonation, but if war does break out on Talin, then we shall be under no constraints to maintain low-level power settings for the transporter. This setting should be safe.”
McCoy groaned. “ ‘Should be safe’? Would you use the blasted thing at those settings to beam down there?”
Spock didn’t bother to look up. “Your question is moot, Doctor. It would be foolish to expose Captain Kirk and myself to the same risk at the same time. And since Captain Kirk has invoked his command privilege to lead the landing party, I, of course, will not use these settings to beam down.”
McCoy held a hand to his eyes and shook his head. “Jim, you can’t be serious about this.”
Kirk stepped down from the transporter platform where he [178] had been doublechecking the two tall cylinders of collection gear that would be beaming down with the landing party—if the landing party beamed down. “I’ve transported under worse conditions, Bones. And so have you.”
“Don’t remind me. ‘Guarantee brain function’? Good Lord,” he muttered.
Kirk rolled up his sleeve and held his arm out to the doctor. “Time for the transponder.”
McCoy took a spray hypo from his kit and adjusted the setting on it. “You know, someday Starfleet’s going to wake up and change the regulations so that the captain will be the last crew member to be authorized to lead a landing party.”
Kirk grimaced as the centimeter-long transporter transponder was forced under the skin on his forearm. The FCO communicators that the landing party would carry, along with all their other equipment, were rigged to self-destruct in the event of capture or loss. But with the team’s subcutaneous transponders in place, the Enterprise would always be able to lock on to each individual.
“The captain has ultimate responsibility over each mission, Bones. And ultimate authority. How can I exercise that authority or take that responsibility if I’m not on top of the situation?”
“Well, it’s too damn risky.”
Kirk rolled his sleeve back into position. “The system’s worked so far.”
McCoy frowned. “And that’s the problem. The day the system doesn’t work is the day you’re not going to know about it because your brain will have been permanently scrambled by this damn machine.”
Kirk clasped his hand to the doctor’s shoulder. “As long as I know that you’re waiting up here to put me back together, I won’t worry.”
“Oh, for—”
The doors to the corridor slipped open and the rest of the landing party entered—Wilforth, Cardinali, and two FCO technicians Kirk hadn’t met. Richter and Mallett accompanied them.
[179] “Do you require transponders?” McCoy asked.
Wilforth shook his head. “They’re permanently implanted in all FCO personnel. Sudden extractions are standard operations, I’m afraid. How are things on the bridge, Captain?”
“The dispute over the polar airspace seems to be growing—though at a controlled rate. Other than that, no disturbances. And no indication that the Talin have detected us or our satellites.”
“So we’re approved for beaming down?”
“Not yet,” Kirk said. “Sulu’s going to take us down for a quick run past the main defense installation on the primary continent, just to check the effectiveness of the Talin scanners at close range. If we get by them the first time, then we’ll beam down at the secondary site.”
“Impossible,” Richter said, leaning on his cane, and for once he didn’t sound angry or provocative, just tired. “It’s all so complicated—judging the development of cultures and technologies. So much room for mistakes to be made, so little chance to help.”
“But that’s precisely why we need the Directive,” Kirk said. “Because there is so much opportunity for causing damage, even accidentally. It’s better to let each world choose its own way.”
An expression of sadness passed over Richter’s face. “You only say that because those are your orders.”
“Yes, they are my orders,” Kirk agreed. “But I do believe in them.”
“But think of all the time and effort that’s wasted, because we do not help.”
“Perhaps, someday, we’ll know how to help other worlds without the possibility of causing harm, but for now, we do the best we can with what we know.”
“Even if a world should die, Captain Kirk?”
Kirk shook his head. “This world won’t die, Dr. Richter. I’ve been using the FCO translator to listen in on their negotiators. Talin patience is serving them well. They know what they’re facing if they dare break off talking with each other.” He [180] stepped up on the transporter platform. “While we’re down there, you listen in on those talks yourself. The Talin have got what it takes to survive this, and fifty years from now, maybe fewer, there’s going to be another Federation starship in orbit around this world ... and that starship won’t be trying to hide.”
Wilforth, Cardinali, and the two techn
icians joined Kirk on the platform.
“Why wait fifty years, Captain? Why not do it now?” Richter asked.
“If the Federation revealed itself to the Talin now, we don’t know what would happen.” Kirk felt the ship shudder around him and reached out a hand to steady himself against one of the equipment cylinders. The transporter-room communications panel whistled.
“Sulu here, Captain. We have entered the Talin thermosphère. Altitude one hundred and five kilometers. The inertial dampeners are absorbing our kinetic energy in an even curve.”
Richter balanced himself with his cane. “If the Federation contacts Talin fifty years from now, we still don’t know what will happen.”
The vibration of the ship became rhythmic. Kirk could hear the whine of the impulse generators as they absorbed more energy from the inertial dampeners than they put out. “But at least fifty years from now, what happens will be the joint responsibility of the Talin and the Federation. We will not be in control, we will be partners.”
Richter’s sadness became almost overpowering. His voice was barely audible over the growing whine of the impulse system. “But fifty years from now, Captain Kirk, I shall be dead and not know anything.”
It was then that Kirk finally understood Richter’s impatience, but it was too late to respond. Sulu’s voice spoke rapidly from the bridge.
“Altitude eighty-five kilometers, Captain. Entering the mésosphère. Thirty seconds from acquisition of primary target.”
Uhura’s report followed. “No military traffic, Captain.”
[181] “All boards clear,” Chekov added. “We’re absorbing all signals perfectly.”
The vibration evened out as the atmosphere thickened and the ship’s speed dropped to avoid creating an incandescent trail in the Talin sky. The energy expenditure was enormous, but the Enterprise could manage atmospheric flight for a brief time, though Scott would be complaining for weeks to come about the pounding the ship was taking.
“Over primary target,” Sulu said. Kirk could hear the excitement in his voice.
The same excitement was in Chekov. “They do not see us, sir. We are still clear.”
