Star Trek - Log 4

by Alan Dean Foster

  "Aye, sir." Gabler saluted stiffly, making no attempt to hide his displeasure at the way things had proceeded. He and Bell turned and left the bridge.

  When Kirk turned the chair back he found McCoy had been standing behind him. There was a note of real concern in the doctor's tone.

  "Are you as worried about Spock as I am, Jim? Taking into account what you told me about his actions on board the Klothos, and now seeing it for myself, I'd say it would be the understatement of the millennium to say he's not acting quite normal."

  Kirk rubbed a hand across his forehead. "He's been performing under a lot of pressure, Bones. All of us have. Spock's been working around the clock for the past two days—almost three, now, and we're not finished yet. Arex and Sulu have checked his calculations, but this is still being done at his say-so. And the most crucial moments are still ahead of us, when he has to be at his sharpest."

  "I know that, Jim. So listen to the say-so of someone who has not been under so much pressure recently, when I say that there's something wrong with him. I've never known Spock to act like a pal under any circumstances. Least of all toward the Klingons."

  Kirk frowned, clearly worried. "That's true, of course, Bones, but . . ."

  "If he's coming apart, Jim," McCoy continued relentlessly, "then we're in real trouble. He handled all the original computations for this escape try himself. If he's not, as you say, a hundred percent when we start to move, he could go under the pressure—and take the rest of us with him."

  Kirk reflected on the situation. Bones was exactly right, of course. Maybe he had become so exhausted himself these past couple of days he had not paid enough attention to the condition of those around him—especially Spock's. Particularly since the science officer's work had not suffered.

  Still, you never knew for sure what Spock might be concealing.

  "All right, I'll talk to him, Bones. That's about all I can do. I can hardly recommend he see you for medication without something more positive."

  "No, you can't, Jim. I don't even know if unnatural friendliness on the part of a Vulcan is a sign of illness. I only know it's not part of Spock's normal behavior."

  Kirk rose from the command chair. "He's in the main briefing room. I'll take care of it now."

  "Good. And Jim?"

  Kirk paused. "Yes, Bones?"

  "Whatever you find out, let me know. So I can be prepared. In case."

  Kirk nodded once.

  The briefing room, where Spock could work in absolute privacy, was crowded, but not with people. The table was littered with piles of computer tape, cards, tiny cassettes, diagrams and computations. Material spilled off the desk onto chairs, dripped onto the floor like white moss.

  At the moment, Spock was totally absorbed in the study of a series of projected energy abstracts on the three-sided central screen. Kirk didn't remember when the first officer had last slept, but he rose promptly when Kirk entered the room.

  Kirk smiled reassuringly. Spock took this as a sign that nothing of an emergency nature had developed, sat back down and concentrated once more on the tiny lists of figures. Kirk examined another side of the triple viewer for a few moments, then looked evenly at his first officer.

  "Everything seems to be moving on schedule. But then, you're the only person who can really be sure. Everything devolves on you, doesn't it, Spock?"

  "I would suppose so, Captain."

  "Any final determination of our chances?"

  Spock replied without looking up, though there was a note of puzzlement in his voice. "That is an odd question to ask at this stage, Captain."

  "Nothing serious, Spock. It's just that Dr. McCoy and I were thinking—well, there has been something about your recent behavior of late—particularly toward the Klingons . . ." He trailed off uncomfortably.

  Now Spock looked up, spoke thoughtfully. "Yes, I grant you it is not my usual pattern."

  Back went his gaze to the viewer. He touched a control and a new set of abstracts appeared on the screen.

  "Well," Kirk finally pressed, when it was evident Spock wasn't going to add anything, "is something wrong?"

  "I believe there is, Captain. But not with me," he added quickly, noticing the sudden look of alarm on Kirk's face. "With the Klingons.

  "I sensed something odd about their attitude when we were aboard the Klothos. Kor was far too agreeable to our proposals."

  "You think so?" Kirk wondered. "He objected to every suggestion we made."

  "And ended by agreeing with all of them. I believe his objections were mere verbal camouflage. And his first officer, Kaas, seemed to me more at ease than our mere presence would explain."

  "It might be due to their desire to get out of here as desperately as we," Kirk countered. "There could be a host of reasons for both Kor and Kaas acting the way they did."

  "I would agree that their behavior might have other explanations, Captain, had I not touched them. But even though the physical contact was necessarily limited, and their minds were uncertain, I did detect a number of subtle indications in Kor—physical as well as mental—connected normally with victory and conquest in Klingon physiology.

  "It is not a simple thing to convey with words, Captain. You have to experience it. I can only infer that Kor had an attack on the Enterprise in mind even as he agreed to cooperate with us."

  "Attack? How can they attack us when our ships are maneuvering as one?"

  "I don't know, Captain. But I would hypothesize some form of delayed action. Something that will affect us when we have successfully broken the barrier and the Klothos has separated from us."

  "Could you gain any hint from Kor's mind, Spock?" Kirk leaned over the table intently.

  "No, Captain. At the time Commander Kor may not have decided on the method, only the course. I am not that telepathically gifted, you know.

  "I also studied the mood and mind of the Klingon engineer who was discovered in the dilithium vault There was nothing specific in his thoughts—only a vague feeling of animosity, which is to be expected, and expectancy, which is not. I cannot escape the feeling that some kind of sabotage is being planned against the ship."

  There was silence while Kirk weighed possible action. "Whatever they have in mind, they can't do anything until after we've finished our run at the barrier. They need us to get through. That gives us time to uncover anything they try to plant on board." He activated the desk com.

  "Security, this is the captain speaking. I want all security teams on round-the-clock duty now. Watch every Klingon who is working on board the ship double-close. Interior or exterior. I don't want one of them to go to the bathroom without our knowing about it."

  "We've been watching them all along, Captain," came the reply.

  "I know that. I want the most intense surveillance you can mount, Mister. Is that understood?"

  "Yes, sir," came the abashed response. Kirk switched off, looked satisfied. "If they try anything, we'll be ready for it."

  "I hope so, Captain," Spock mused. He turned his full attention back to the screen. "I sincerely hope so."

  The other members of the bridge complement on the Klothos ignored the conversation of the three officers grouped around Commander Kor's chair. As any good Klingon crew ought, they attended strictly to their assigned tasks, closing ears and eyes and minds to all that occurred around them that did not require their personal concern.

  Kor and the female, Lieutenant Kali, cast expectant eyes on the first officer.

  "All is in readiness, then," Kor announced. "You have the device Kaas?"

  In reply, the first officer reached into a belt pouch, pulled out a small, deceptively innocent-looking device. It was about the size and shape of a throat lozenge and looked to be about as dangerous. It gave even Kor pause when he considered what was bound up inside that tiny package.

  "My compliments to Engineer Kanff," he said in open admiration. Kor always appreciated fine workmanship. "A wonder that they got it so small. Kanff and his staff are due a decor
ation for this."

  "Yes, an extraordinary job, considering the requirements and the lack of time in which to fulfill them," Kaas agreed.

  "How is to be triggered?"

  Kaas turned the compact device over in his hand, displaying casual disregard for its capabilities.

  "According to Engineering's calculations, we must achieve at least warp-eight to have a chance of penetrating the barrier. At the time our dual vessel reaches that speed, a sensing crystal within the device will shatter, setting the timer.

  "Reaction time will commence approximately three minutes after we have pierced the barrier, assuming the Vulcan Spock's predictions to be correct. Our engineers concur. The reaction will backflow until it reaches the dilithium chambers themselves. At which point the Enterprise will disintegrate."

  "An admirable plan with an admirable end," grinned Kor, retaking his seat. "Engineer Kanff has carried out the first half of the mission in producing the machine." His gaze wandered up to Lieutenant Kali. For a brief moment he considered virtues other than those of a top officer. It passed.

  "The other half, Lieutenant, will be up to you."

  "Yes, Commander. I have been briefed and understand what is needed. How will I recognize the diversion?"

  Kor looked temporarily pained.

  "Unfortunately, that is the one factor we cannot plan for in advance, Lieutenant. For it to succeed, it must be at least partly spontaneous in nature. The choice of the crucial moment will be up to you. However, there should be ample opportunity at the joint gathering this evening-time."

  Kali's expression became one of disgust. "To mingle on a social basis with humans and Edoans and their kind," she almost spat. "It will be difficult to maintain an aura of civility, Commander."

  "It is necessary to be more than civil, Lieutenant. We must endeavor to appear openly friendly." He eyed her sternly. "We can do nothing until we escape this trap. Remember that if your resolve weakens . . . and smile."

  "Yes, Exalted One," she answered compliantly.

  Kaas handed her the tablet-sized machine. She took it carefully and tucked it away in a waistband pocket

  "Tonight they entertain us," Kor observed, barely controlled excitement in his voice, "and so it is only just that we provide them with some entertainment ourselves. It will only last for a few milliseconds, but it should be most gratifying."

  "If that device does what Engineer Kanff assures me it can," added Kaas, nodding in the direction of the now hidden tablet, "I almost regret that none on board the Enterprise will have the opportunity to observe its entertaining capabilities at greater length."

  X

  It was all the better for Kor's machinations that the party had been suggested by the psychology staffs of both the Klothos and the Enterprise and then mutually agreed upon by himself and Kirk. That should lull any suspicions of ulterior motives on the part of the Klingons.

  The rationale behind the gathering was that since the Elysians felt so strongly about the personnel of both ships co-existing in harmony, it might be an excellent idea for them to observe members of both crews mingling in a spirit of good fellowship and cooperation—even if a little faking was required.

  As a further indication of their desire to cooperate with their new friends, invitations had been extended from both ships for members of the council to attend. When locale had been called into question, Kor had magnanimously agreed to have the event staged on the Enterprise.

  One of the large briefing rooms had been made over for the occasion. Klingon and Federation trappings were placed side by side. They did not blend well, since conflict carried over even into decorations.

  Long tables were set up around the room and loaded with food and exotic drink from both ships. Natural antagonisms momentarily laid aside, the celebration commenced surprisingly well. Klingons, crewmembers of the Enterprise, and representatives of the Elysian council mingled easily in the large chamber.

  Taped music played over the concealed speakers. At first it had been mostly martial Scottish music, angry fifes and drums, until Kirk ordered the selection changed over engineer Scott's objections.

  Then the speakers poured forth a tape requested by Devna, the Orionite member of the council, and promptly turned out by the Enterprise's vast library.

  She was dancing in the center of the floor, to the admiring stares of numerous onlookers. Sounding clearly over the hum of constant chatter, the music was lush, full, impressionistic. Devna danced sensuously, completely relaxed. Only occasionally did a movement seem forced. It was as if she were desperately striving to demonstrate that there was a different side to her than the formal interpreter of laws who sat on the council.

  Now she was interpreting with her body instead of her voice. There was nothing abstract in her movements. They were basic . . . primal, even. The performance ended with a flurry of difficult moves lithely managed—ended with her lying prone on the floor.

  There was applause, varying according to diverse styles of artistic appreciation. The music changed to something simple, gentle, purely melodic. Almost embarrassed, Devna made a slight bow and disappeared into the crowd, leaving the dance floor free for others to try their Terpsichorean skill.

  Kirk was engaged in a somewhat forced conversation with one of the Klingon library technicians. He turned to speak to Devna as she hurried by. He was glad for the chance to break off the discussion without becoming insulting, finding it increasingly difficult to control his emotions around the Klingons. Their ever-present, unsubtle sense of supercilious superiority generated in him most undiplomatic urges.

  "That was beautifully rendered," he told her.

  "I thank you, Captain." She was barely breathing hard.

  "Especially that grande finale."

  Her eyes suddenly seemed to light, and a glow came into her face. "You've seen the dances of Orion before, then?"

  Kirk nodded. "Many times. Always with pleasure, never without admiration."

  "I wish . . ."

  Interpreter of laws, council member or not, the look on her face was unmistakable.

  "Wish what?" he prompted. She stared hard at him.

  "I wish I could return through this space-time barrier and see Orion again. We tell, we lie, we say to ourselves," she continued tightly, "that homesickness is a mental abstraction and easily avoided. We have put our former lives behind us . . . and so we have.

  "But . . . the walls we've built in front of those memories are not always as strong as we would wish them to be."

  "You could go back," Kirk told her. "We're perfectly willing to take passengers."

  "No," she said, gazing at him tiredly. "You see, we've all seen the absurdity of trying to escape. Many times each of us here dreamed of breaking out, till we came to understand it simply cannot be done. We have accepted our new lives here. To dwell on the possibility of returning is only to open emotional wounds best left closed. Such speculation is unhealthy."

  "We're pretty sure it can be done," Kirk countered.

  "Do you not think," she half shouted, "that each of us has not believed that same thing as intensely, as strongly as you? Did you not see the Klothos fail? Did you . . ." She stopped, staring at him.

  "You still do not believe. You still fail to admit to reality. When fact has replaced dream, I will dance again for you, Captain Kirk. You will find, when you have been here a hundred years or so, that the appreciation and companionship of one's fellows is among the finest ends anyone can live for.

  "Until then, I will intrude on your dream no longer."

  "Funny," Kirk murmured. "I've always felt exactly the same way about appreciation and companionship on the other side of the space-time barrier."

  She gave him a friendly, pitying smile of the sort usually bestowed on a stubborn child, turned and walked into the crowd, heading for the place where Xerius stood in earnest conversation with another council member—a Tallarine male, Kirk noted absently. He knew better than to go after her, better than to repeat his offer of esca
pe.

  Usually the outright refusal to consider another way of looking at something was a sign of advancing age. It appeared that physical deterioration of the body was not a prerequisite for turning so obstinate. Repeated discouragement would only contribute to such an attitude.

  The music issuing from the speakers had turned faintly romantic. A number of couples were dancing on the floor now. There were also one or two triples.

  Kirk might have intervened if he had seen what was happening across the room, but his view was blocked and no one else saw fit to step in. McCoy, overcome by the enforced spirit of the occasion, had imbibed rather too much. But so what if his emotional gauge was running a bit high? His judgment was unimpaired, he thought—and member of an inimical race or no, that Klingon lady was one of the most beautiful gals in the room.

  The doctor made a gallant, if unsteady bow before her, smiled broadly.

  "Miss . . . would you care to dance?"

  Not surprisingly, the offer took her utterly unawares. She made a pretense of looking away, in reality searching for Kor. He saw what was happening, nodded slightly. She forced a smile of her own and stood.

  They started to shuffle around the floor—awkward in each other's arms at first, but with increasing steadiness. Kor broke off his conversation with one of the council members and slid over to where Kaas stood. His first officer had not noticed the unusual pairing yet. He was drinking and trying to avoid contact with any member of the Enterprise crew.

  A few words were whispered, glances exchanged. Kaas waited until Kor had made his way across the floor and struck up a new conversation, this time with one of the Federation officers. Then he moved, starting out onto the dance floor, an angry, half-drunken glare dominating his expression.

  A clutching hand, and McCoy found himself spun around to face the furious, weaving Kaas.

  "Get away from her, human, this is my woman." Kali looked on quietly.

  "Now just a minute," McCoy objected, his liquid amiability rapidly starting to fade. "All I did was ask her to dance. She didn't have to agree, and I certainly didn't . . ."