by Barbara Paul
"Where are they going?" McCoy asked. "Spock?"
"I do not believe they are going anywhere, Doctor. If it were not for the elementary nature of the maneuvers being performed, I would assume that what we are seeing is something in the nature of a shakedown cruise. It is a new ship, remember, and there might be some aspects of it that are not functioning satisfactorily."
"They managed to get all the way here from Zirgos."
"And perhaps encountered problems on the way. Yet these are such basic maneuvers they are performing, I have to suspect that something else is behind them. Until we find out what that is, we shall continue to track them."
"They're making a starboard turn, Mr. Spock," Sulu said.
"Follow suit, Mr. Sulu."
"We do not understand why another inspection of the navigational unit is necessary," one of the Sackers said.
"A good navigator must know his tools," Chekov replied pedantically. "And thet includes all the ship's equipment connected vith the navigation system. Here you are, in training to be navigators, and you still do not know the vorkings of the unit that sends you your readings! Disgraceful!"
The Sacker fell silent, chastened. They were in a corridor of the ship, Chekov flanked by the two black Sackers assigned to him while the orange one dragged along disconsolately in the rear. Sackers didn't move very fast, a fact that Chekov took advantage of by looking through every open door and hatchway they passed. He'd told his trainees that he needed to familiarize himself with the ship's layout; they saw nothing unusual in this, and consequently they took a different route every time they went to study the navigational unit.
They were approaching large double doors that were not only closed but guarded, by two armed Sackers who lifted their weapons slightly when they saw Chekov. "Vhat is this place?" he wanted to know.
"Ship maintenance section," he was told.
"Vhy is it guarded?"
Neither black Sacker said anything, but the orange one spoke up eagerly from behind them. "That is where the baryon reverter is kept!"
"Silence!" one of the black Sackers ordered. The orange one dropped back a few steps.
"Vhat kind of rewerter?" Chekov asked innocently.
"It has nothing to do with navigation."
Chekov went on asking questions and sometimes even listening to the answers. He already had the answer he wanted: ship maintenance. They reached the navigational unit, and Chekov forgot all about Sackers and burning universes in his fascination with this new substitute for the traditional deflector dish. An hour later they were ready to go back to the bridge.
But the orange Sacker blocked the hatchway. "Request permission to speak to the Chekov privately."
"Granted." He waved the two black Sackers back and followed the orange one into the corridor. The orange Sacker was the only female among Chekov's trainees, and right then she was trying hard to work up the courage to say something. "Vhat is it?" Chekov nudged.
She twitched once or twice and started to speak. "The Chekov has been instructing us in the arts of navigation for eight days. I wish to ask whether my work has been satisfactory or not."
Chekov chose his words carefully. "I think you are doing the best you can."
"Do I not heed every word you speak?"
"You pay attention, yes."
"Do I not follow your orders without question?"
"Quite so."
"Do I not solve all the navigational problems you give us?"
"Yes, yes you do."
"Then why," she wailed, "why have you given the other two names—but not me?"
"Ah, vell, ve must not rush these things," Chekov answered smoothly. "Do not despair. You may yet be named. It is something for you to vork toward." He turned his back and walked away down the corridor, grinning from ear to ear.
Divide and conquer.
Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott was roused out of a deep sleep by a smell that would have spoiled anyone's dreams. He opened one eye and saw a green nightmare standing in the doorway of the quarters the four from the Enterprise shared.
Scotty reached for his helmet and said, "What's the trouble, Mr. Green?"
"I apologize for disturbing the Scott's rest period," the Sacker said in what was almost a humble manner, "but the piston-booster power supply is slow in feeding through. It approaches critical."
Scotty was instantly awake; he'd been half expecting this. "Let's have us a look."
They made their way to the engine room, Mr. Green explaining along the way how he'd checked all the valves and the wiring but could find nothing wrong. I certainly hope not, Scotty thought.
The control panel for the piston boosters was on the upper level of the engine room overlooking the intermix chamber. The Sacker pointed to a dial; the needle was hovering just outside the red zone.
"Ah, now, wasn't it smart o' ye to notice that!" Too smart, Scott thought. "But y'need not worry, Mr. Green. I lowered the power feed meself. Keeps the mix purer, don't ye know."
"But … but if the helm should need power in a hurry …?"
"Then the plasmicophic ferangulator kicks in. Nae need to worry."
"The plasmi …?"
"Plasmicophic ferangulator. It wasna even hooked up when I first came aboard but it's workin' all right now. Come along—I'll show ye." He led the puzzled Sacker to a Rube Goldberg contraption he'd rigged a few days earlier. Scotty touched a finger to a button; the contraption started clicking and whirring, and rows of pretty lights began to blink on and off. "Y'see," Scotty explained, "the frammistan redirects the betagams through an ion-free calcimogrifying chamber, where they're mixed by the glockenspiel to regurgitate with zeta-minor demi-prostulances. Then the new mix spurts through the Fallopian tube into the Loch Lomond antimasticator—and ye know what that means, don't ye?"
Mr. Green was all agog. "What?"
Scotty threw up both arms and beamed. "Instant power! As much as y'want and as fast as y'want it! Ah, the ferangulator is a lovely instrument, it is! Saves energy and increases efficiency—what more could y'ask?" He lowered his arms and his face fell. "There's only one thing the matter with it."
"What's that?"
"It canna be serviced while operatin'. Y'take off any of the panels to get at the innards and—zap!"
"Zap?"
Scotty lowered his voice. "Y'get hit with all those nasty doubloons. By-products o' particle decay. Lethal nine times out o' ten. I wouldna be mentionin' it to the others, if I were ye—nae need to alarm them. But we're all safe as houses … as long as those panels stay in place." He was gratified to see the Sacker nodding soberly. "Well, if y'have nae more questions, Mr. Green, I'd like to finish me nap."
Mr. Green ordered another Sacker to escort the Scott back to his quarters, while he himself stayed to study the plasmicophic ferangulator.
"Too slow, Blue," Captain Kirk said wearily. "Much too slow."
"I initiated the turn the minute you gave the command!" Blue protested.
"You have to learn to anticipate these things, Blue. You have to develop a feel for the helm. Mr. Sulu would have had the Enterprise halfway to the next star system by the time you started your turn."
Blue twitched. For days the captain had been throwing the name of Sulu at him. The Sulu was evidently some sort of magician who could get the Enterprise to do anything he wanted just by wishing for it; Blue had to do it the hard way.
Kirk motioned the red commander closer. "Babe," he said in a voice just loud enough for Blue to hear, "you're going to have to do something about that helmsman. He's just not cutting it."
"I am sure he is doing the best he can, Captain." The voice coming out of her translator sounded worried.
"Maybe he'll take orders from you better than he does from me. Here, you try it." He slipped out of the command chair and stood to one side.
Babe lowered herself into the chair and the brown Sacker moved in closer. "Prepare for port turn with increase to mark two," she said.
"Preparing for turn," Blue s
aid. "On your signal."
Kirk watched carefully until Babe was about to speak and then yelled, "Now!" Both Sackers twitched, as did the three standing around Chekov. "Too late!" Kirk cried, and threw up a hand in annoyance. "Babe, you're as slow as he is! You're quite a pair, you are."
"I was about to—"
"'About to' isn't fast enough, Babe. I've told you that before. You have to think at least five minutes ahead. You're not doing that. Are you?"
"I try to—"
"Try, try, try. Don't just try. Do it!" He glanced over to Communications and saw Uhura making a little signal with her hand. She had something! He gave her a barely perceptible nod.
Uhura stood up and said, "Captain, permission to leave the bridge."
"Granted."
"One moment please," Babe said. "Why do you wish to leave the bridge?"
"I have a slight headache. I'd like to go to our quarters and lie down for a few minutes."
"Do you require medical attention?"
"No, it's not that serious. If I can just get my feet up for ten or fifteen minutes, I'll be all right."
Babe consulted with the brown Sacker. "Permission granted."
Uhura left, and one of her trainees called down to have another Sacker meet the turbolift when it stopped. Kirk killed some time by finding ways to criticize Babe's performance. Actually, the red Sacker showed signs of developing into a fairly decent starship captain if given half a chance. Kirk was determined not to give it to her.
When he estimated ten minutes had passed, he too requested permission to leave the bridge.
"For what purpose?" Babe wanted to know.
"I have a personal matter to attend to in my quarters." That excuse had gotten him off the bridge once before.
Again Babe consulted with the brown Sacker. The consultation went on longer than usual.
Finally Kirk grew impatient. "Well? What does Brownie have to say?"
"Brownie?"
It was the first time he'd heard the brown Sacker speak. But now that he had … "I name you Brownie," Kirk pronounced solemnly.
Brownie wagged his head back and forth, which Kirk knew by now was a sign of acceptance and/or happiness. "I thank you, Captain."
"Don't mention it," he answered dryly.
More consulting.
Finally Babe turned to Kirk and said, "Do you wish to join the Uhura in your quarters for mating purposes?"
Of all the things she could have said, that was one which Kirk was in no way prepared for. "Well, uh, ah, umm," he mumbled. Which answer would get him off the bridge? Chekov seemed to be having a coughing fit.
Babe prodded for an answer. "We understand the human reproductive impulse is neither cyclical nor regimented to control population numbers. Is it true the urge to mate comes upon you without warning, at any time of the day or night?"
"Well, uh, yes, that's true," Kirk floundered.
"And is this urge upon you now?" Babe persisted.
Dammit. "Yes, it is!" he said loudly.
"Very well, you have permission to leave the bridge."
Kirk stepped into the turbolift and turned to see every one of the Sackers watching him. He hoped he didn't look as big a fool as he felt.
Chapter Eight
UHURA WAS WAITING in their quarters.
"What have you got?" Kirk said the minute the door closed behind him. He pulled off his helmet and sat down at the table opposite her.
"Captain, you know my Sackers talk freely in front of me," she said, "since they're not aware I can understand their language now."
"You overheard something."
"Yes. Today they were talking about the accident that killed off all the bridge personnel. Well, the 'accident' was a simple drop in temperature. Something went wrong in their environmental control section. When the temperature reached freezing point, their sac liquid turned solid."
"My God," Kirk said, horrified. "You mean their sac liquid froze? Ughhh, hell of a way to die. But wait a minute—why didn't they just leave the bridge?"
"The temperature failure was shipwide, Captain. You were right about that—all the command personnel were not on the bridge at the same time."
"But it didn't kill off all of them. Obviously."
"The way I understand it," Uhura said, "the older the Sackers grow, the more heat they need. Only the younger ones were able to survive that lethal drop in temperature."
"So all the elderly on this ship died off?"
"All the adults. The survivors who are running the ship now—most of them haven't even entered puberty yet. Captain, they're kids. We're dealing with a bunch of kids."
Kirk sat there open-mouthed. "Kids!"
She nodded. "The temperature failure came after the adults had destroyed Zirgos and everything else in the Beta Castelli system. The kids replenished the population as soon as they could, by putting up those incubation vats on Holox. Captain, over half this ship's crew is in a nursery somewhere on board here."
Kirk got up and began to wander aimlessly around the room. "Kids!" he cried, waving his arms in the air. "That explains so much! No wonder nobody knows how to do anything! They're a bunch of well-mannered, curious youngsters who are still at the beginnings of their educations. And no wonder they're so naive about human beings! All the contacts with other races must have been made by the adults. The only things they know about us is what their computer tells them." He started pacing. "They're unfamiliar with their own weapons system and too young to practice diplomacy, so they forced the Gelchenites to poison the colonists who threatened their incubation vats. They might be kids, but they're pretty bloodthirsty kids."
"They'd just seen their elders wipe out an entire star system," Uhura pointed out.
"Yes, there's that—they had to learn it somewhere. And Babe? Babe is a kid, too?"
"She's the oldest kid—I think she must be in early adolescence. But that's why she's the commander, because she's oldest. Iris—one of my trainees?—he's very bitter about that. He wants to command. He said that Babe and the brown Sacker both were taken out of their incubation vats less than an hour before he was, but those few minutes give them seniority."
Kirk was astonished. "That's the way Sackers determine chain of command? The oldest one is automatically in charge, regardless of ability?"
Uhura sighed. "That's the way these kids are doing it. I don't know if it's Sacker custom or not. I would guess not. Iris wouldn't be so rebellious if it were a long-standing custom. He's the only one of my three who's not even trying to learn communications. Rose has a natural aptitude, and Jon got off to a slow start but he's coming along nicely now. But Iris—I think Iris is just waiting for Babe to fall on her face, and the brown one along with her."
"Good. Encourage him in that kind of thinking. Tell him he was made to command, that kind of garbage. Ambitious also-rans always believe flattery. Anything we can do to shake the hierarchy these kids have set up has to work to our advantage."
"Yes, they can't be feeling as sure of themselves as they look."
Kirk thought a minute. "You know, Uhura, in a way these kids have done a pretty remarkable thing. They've stepped into their elders' shoes without being prepared to do so, and they're making it work. It's all very tenuous, but they sure as hell got the drop on us. Even that was pretty bright—they knew they needed help, so they went out and got themselves a starship captain and a communications officer and a navigator. They've got guts, and they weren't the ones who destroyed the Beta Castelli system. You could almost admire them, if it weren't for what they did to the colonists on Holox."
"And to us," Uhura added. "I don't mean the kidnapping, although that's bad enough. But when they've learned to run their ship without our help, they're not just going to send us back to the Enterprise with a polite thank-you."
"I know. Remember Scotty's story about how casually they incinerated the security man with him in the Holox dome? These kid Sackers don't have a whole lot of respect for human life. Whew. I'm going to have to
get Scarlett O'Hara up there off for a private talk before long. But you've given me the handle I've been looking for, Uhura. Now that we know we're dealing with kids, we should be able to shake 'em up a bit."
"There's something else, Captain. I think I've figured out how to lower the interior visuals shield. If I'm right, we can let the Enterprise see what's going on here."
"Great! Audio too?"
"Audio too. But it's a four-step procedure, Captain. I could probably sneak in one of the steps or maybe two without one of my trainees spotting it—"
"Understood. I'll provide a distraction. Now I think we'd better be getting back. Oh—by the way, in case anyone says anything, the reason you and I are down here is for mating purposes."
"What?!"
Kirk shrugged helplessly. "It was the only way I could get off the bridge!" He put on his helmet and palmed open the door to reveal two Sackers waiting to escort them back to the turbolift. "Come on—and for crying out loud, Uhura, stop laughing."
She did her best. But her suppressed mirth was so contagious that on the lift Kirk found himself first smiling, then beaming, and finally laughing out loud. They were both laughing when the turbolift stopped at the bridge and opened its doors.
"Ah!" Babe greeted them. "I am happy to see your mating has restored the spirits of both of you."
Chekov fell out of his seat.
Kirk marched around the bridge, barking "Status report!" at every kid Sacker who happened to catch his eye. When he came to the science officer's station, Misterma'am was ready for him.
"Sir, the Enterprise is still tracking us. But I've calculated that it is now within firing range!" He stood there, waiting to be congratulated. Like a kid.
"Whose firing range, Misterma'am?" Kirk said in a deceptively soft voice. "Theirs or ours?"
"Why … ours, sir."
"Don't you think you should be worrying just a little bit about their firing range? Are you capable of comprehending how that might possibly have some bearing on the survival of this ship? An enemy vessel in pursuit, and you haven't figured out its range yet? What the hell have you been doing over here—playing with dolls?"
