Mutiny on the Enterprise

by Robert E. Vardeman

  "Life is precious, sir. Y-yes, she is speaking for me.

  And a lot of others in the crew," the young ensign finished, blurting out the words as if they burned his tongue. Sweat beaded his forehead, showing the intense strain he felt.

  "Of course life is precious. That's why our mission to Ammdon is to prevent a war." Kirk wasn't the least surprised when both Ross and Kesselmann scoffed at that. This was the single most prevalent opinion he'd ever encountered among his diverse crew. "Have you considered that you did not hold this odd belief until after you spoke with the alien Lorelei?"

  "She pointed it out. The seeds of that belief were already within us. The Federation makes it sound noble, going out and seeking new life forms. But we always end up destroying them. No more."

  "When have we willfully destroyed an alien race?" demanded McCoy, finally goaded into speaking. For the most part, Kirk suspected, the doctor agreed with the two ensigns, but they'd finally stepped over the bounds of fact and irritated McCoy. "I admit that we've meddled a bit in some, but destroyed? Never!"

  "That meddling destroys an alien culture as surely as if we phasered them out of existence," Anita Ross protested hotly. "What difference if we mold them to our idea of culture or outright kill them? Forcing our philosophy on an alien race is as violent a course of action as orbiting a planet and systematically destroying it with photon torpedoes!"

  "Since there's little need for phasers or torpedoes in our present condition, your disobedience is not a serious breach of discipline, Ensign. However, I think sitting and consuming coffee is not a productive use of your time, considering our current plight. I'll talk to your section head and have you reassigned to other duties."

  "If they require violence, I refuse the duty."

  "Carry on," said Kirk, pivoting and leaving the pair in the rec room. In the corridor, he slumped and looked at McCoy. "Are there others like that?"

  "More than I care to think about, Jim. But there's a healthy aspect to it, this part about not wanting to kill."

  "As I tried to point out to them, try explaining that to a fully armed Romulan warship ready to blast you into plasma. War is too messy not to try to avoid, but there's a point when avoiding it with too great a diligence reduces you to slavery. I believe it is time I spoke with your foundling."

  "Lorelei?"

  Kirk nodded and started toward the woman's quarters. He hadn't wanted this confrontation. He saw now that he could no longer avoid it. The safety of his ship mattered more than the gut-wrenching fear he felt welling up inside.

  As with all other doors aboard the Enterprise, that leading to Lorelei's quarters had been braced half-open and then the power had been cut. When every erg produced by the impulse engines was required for life support and rocket propulsion, the luxury of the self-opening doors had to be put aside.

  "Lorelei?" he called, his voice not quite quavering. Kirk tried to get a better grip on himself. He hadn't any reason to fear her. She was not violent. Quite the contrary. Yet he did fear her. Or was it her philosophy of pacifism? Did he fear her persuasiveness? Could she totally twist about everything he had come to believe in?

  "Captain Kirk—James. Please. Enter."

  She sat on a low stool, trim legs thrust out in front of her and crossed at the ankles. She wore a thin dress that clung with static-electricity tenacity to the slender curves of her body. Her large brown eyes made her look soft, young, vulnerable. The childlike qualities of her figure added to the impression. Kirk fought down a feeling of protectiveness toward her. If anything, she was more in control of the situation than he was.

  "I want to ask you not to speak with any of the crew." There. He'd got it all out in one quick sentence.

  "No? Am I such a subversive? My ideas are potent if you think they are the root of your problems." She leaned back, balancing herself on her hands. For a woman who appeared older, this would have been a provocative pose. Kirk found himself struck even more by the childlike quality Lorelei exuded.

  "Their words sound a good deal like yours. Somehow—and I don't know how you've done it—you've put your thoughts into their heads. Many of the crew refuse to report for duty because of their newfound pacifistic ideals. If they refuse orders at a crucial moment, whether it's against a Romulan cruiser or an asteroid too large for our deflector screens to handle, not only their own lives will be forfeit but also those of everyone else about the Enterprise. You don't want those deaths on your conscience, do you?"

  Sadness crossed the woman's face, almost as if a cloud had blanked out the disk of the sun. She shook her head. "It is not so easy, James. Ideas are insidious. Once planted, they grow and can never be eradicated. There is no turning back."

  "How do you do it? Why?" He sat across from her, elbows braced on his knees. Studying her gave no hint to her motives.

  "I am a Speaker of Hyla. I am taught to choose words carefully, to tend to meanings, both overt and subtle. Perhaps the subtly phrased sentence is the most important because it triggers the thought process in the listener. I did not wish to harm you or the functioning of your precious vessel. But your mission runs counter to all that I hold to be sacred."

  "Over and over I hear my crew saying we go to Ammdon to start a war. That is not and never has been the Federation's purpose in sending the diplomatic mission. Ambassador Zarv and the others want peace, not war."

  "Your ambassador is a remarkable Speaker. He would gain much honor on Hyla." Lorelei sighed and turned to one side, again a move that would have been sexually provocative if she hadn't appeared to be a young girl physically.

  "The Romulans want this war, not the Federation."

  "Yes, James, I believe that. I truly do. I have examined your records, and, while it is impossible for me to view every single item, your history is one of seeking peace and not war."

  "Then why oppose us?"

  "The Federation's motives are peaceful, but the tool it has chosen is the wrong one. On Hyla we learned many thousands of years ago that pure motives are meaningless without effective action. Zarv might sway Ammdon and Jurnamoria and prevent the war you fear. He is that good. But the presence of the Enterprise will go against this goal. Those of Ammdon are cunning."

  "And they'll use the Enterprise to launch a strike against Jurnamoria, who must then appeal to the Romulans for aid. I've heard it all. I must trust Zarv and Lorritson and Mek Jokkor. I…I'm not a diplomat. Their ways are strange to me, for the most part."

  "But you are not a soldier, either. You truly desire peace. Your primary mission is to discover new worlds, contact new life forms—peacefully. This is a worthy profession and one you are admirably suited for."

  She rose in a liquid motion and dropped to her knees in front of Kirk. A slender hand reached out and lightly brushed his flushed cheek. He stared down into the limpid pools of her chocolate-colored eyes and felt himself becoming lost. The attraction he felt for Lorelei mounted. It wasn't—quite—sexual, and yet it was, also. She embodied all that was pure and innocent and peaceful in the universe, all that was tranquil and content.

  "We of Hyla fought bitter wars hundreds of centuries ago. I have experienced those primitive feelings through a certain recording technology that your culture does not appear to have. It…affected me greatly. All on Hyla share my loathing for warlike instincts, and we have dedicated our lives to analyzing situations and determining potential. You are blinded, or inexperienced, or naive."

  "Naive?" Kirk demanded, stung by the criticism. It was Lorelei who appeared fragile and inexperienced. "Hardly."

  "Perhaps a better word is tired or exhausted in both body and spirit. You and those others aboard this vessel all seem worn. It has been too long between rests for you. It is not possible to think clearly when you are tired."

  "True, but we still must complete our assignment."

  "Single-minded," she said, the sadness even more apparent in her face now. "I wish that my powers were even more limited than they are. It does me no honor to disgrace you by preven
ting completion of your orders. We of Hyla do not have such a rigid, structured society. While we are not an anarchy, we do not have leaders in the sense you do."

  "How do you provide for the common good? Not everyone can provide everything they need in a complex culture."

  "Hylans require little direction. If something needs doing, and we are able, we do it. All work is honorable, as long as it helps and does not harm."

  "You make it sound like a perfect society." Kirk felt himself responding to the woman, and he didn't want to. Her words wove patterns about him, imprisoning him, making him feel like a savage in the presence of a sophisticate.

  "Perfect?" she said in surprise, then gave a tiny laugh that rang like silver bells in Kirk's mind. "Hardly. We are all too aware of the many flaws. Working to achieve real peace, however, gives everyone purpose."

  "Everyone has to have the same definition of peace." Kirk felt himself sinking into the depths of her eyes, her intellect and arguments. What she said beguiled him. It made sense; it made perfect sense. Again she reached out and lightly touched him. He turned his face to kiss the palm of her hand.

  "I wish that your ways were more peaceful," she said, the sadness spreading over her words like a thick, rich sauce. "It is as if I destroy your world, even if it is necessary."

  "I've trained as a soldier, but peace is dear to me. I wish we could all be at peace, throughout the galaxy. The Romulans, the Klingons, the Federation."

  She said nothing, and Kirk started to reach for her fragile cheek to touch, to caress. A strident chiming shook him from his mood.

  "Captain Kirk, you're wanted on the bridge. Please respond."

  Kirk rose and went to the intercom, slamming the button with the side of his hand. "Kirk here. What is it, Uhura?"

  "Sir, Mr. Spock reports that the cosmic dust obscuring the star system has been left behind us. He has completed his preliminary scan of the system."

  "Good."

  "It's even better, sir. The fourth planet in the system is inhabited."

  "I'll be right up." Kirk glanced over his shoulder at Lorelei, who sat in the same motionless pose she had held since kneeling in front of him. "I've got to go," he said to her. Deep down inside, emotions churned and boiled, threatening to confuse him again. When he'd spoken with Lorelei, everything had been so pellucid. Now the words jumbled about him. Peace. War. The boundaries were no longer clear-cut.

  "Go. Do your duty," she said. "And I shall do mine. That is our destiny, James. Each must do what is necessary."

  He nodded, glad to leave. He hurried for the turbolift, eager to reach the bridge.

  An inhabited planet! They weren't lost yet!

  Chapter Six

  Captain's Log, Stardate 4903.01

  We will soon attain orbit about the fourth planet in the system. Uhura reports no radio signals emanating from the planet, but Mr. Spock's life-form readings indicate a highly complex civilization. The riddle posed by this seeming contradiction is only one of the items on our agenda. Nowhere in the galaxy has an advanced civilization been found that did not employ hertzian radio, even for minor communications. Perhaps this is the first.

  "Assume standard orbit," Kirk commanded. Chekov and Sulu worked at their consoles to obey. Behind him Kirk heard Lieutenant Uhura scanning through every conceivable communication frequency, to no avail. "Mr. Spock, what is your impression of the world below?" He studied the vast sprawl of the browns and greens and blues shown on the viewscreen as he listened.

  "Definitely advanced civilization, perhaps equal to our own."

  "Space travel? Faster-than-light drives?" he demanded.

  "No indication of any off-planet activity, sir. Nor is there any radiation emission in the standard communication bands. I do find, however, evidence of atomic-fission plants, involved transport systems on the planetary surface and even aerial vehicles approximating those of your twenty-first century."

  "Don't you find it odd that they don't use radio?"

  "I can theorize a culture lacking such. For instance, by the mid-twentieth century on Earth, little broadcast radiation leaked into space. Low-power geosynchronous communications satellites assumed an increasing burden of audio and video traffic. By the end of that century, lasers and the comsats were the primary relay methods. These, as you know, permit no leakage."

  "Sulu, any evidence of comsats in orbit around the planet?"

  "None, sir," came the immediate answer. "That was the first thing Mr. Spock asked me to search for."

  Kirk smiled to himself. Spock seldom missed anything of real importance. That was why he consistently ranked as the best science officer in Starfleet. Kirk pushed away the idea of how much he'd be missed aboard the Enterprise when Spock earned a promotion to ship's captain and had his own command one day.

  "How do you explain this discrepancy? According to Proctor's theory of civilizations, it isn't possible to develop a complex culture without an advanced communications network."

  "I agree with the theory. I surmise that the people on the planet below employ some method of which we are ignorant. They are advanced; they might be more advanced than we."

  "But they don't have space travel. Not even to their nearby planets."

  "Some cultures feel no need to explore the cosmos. This might be one." Spock continued working on his computer console even as he reported. "I have detected other examples of advanced status. Their agricultural patterns are definitely those of a society at peace and with highly developed biology. Waterways indicate optimal planning for irrigation, and the surface-transport system is sufficient for distributing the crops across the planet."

  Kirk allowed the viewscreen to change, increasing magnification. Spock's conclusions were based on computer-enhanced pictures, but much of what he reported was readily apparent even to Kirk's untrained eye. The fields paraded by in distinctly laid out patterns favored by farmers on most worlds; those had been selected by computers to maximize yield. He wondered if the people below also used computer analysis or if they had arrived at this in some other way.

  "Now, there's a world I wouldn't mind settlin' down on," said McCoy, at Kirk's elbow. The captain jumped, not having heard the doctor approach. "Peaceful down there. A fellow can run his fingers through the soil and feel a part of nature."

  "I sometimes wonder if you ever saw the outside of a farmhouse. I have this picture of you living in an Atlanta penthouse, peering out across the horizon where the fields ought to be."

  "I grew up on a farm, Jim." The hurt in McCoy's voice made Kirk change the subject.

  "Have you finished bioscan analysis?"

  "All done and fed into Spock's computer. That planet's as near Earth norm as you'll find in all of space. A beautiful place. No pollutants in the air from factories, weather nicely controlled, the whole place approaches paradise."

  "No factories? Spock, is that so?"

  "Yes, Captain. Fascinating. I had not considered this aspect until now. All polluting industry is in orbit now so that Earth's atmosphere remains untainted. I find no evidence of similar orbiting factories. I am at a loss to explain the lack of atmospheric pollution."

  "They might be even more advanced than we can know," mused Kirk.

  "Bioscans are continuing, aimed at one of their cities," said McCoy. "Their cities are the model of efficiency, too. No grid pattern for them. That's not esthetic enough."

  "There seems to be a definite predilection for the hexagon in both their architecture and their city planning. It is as efficient a pattern as the square and is more mathematically pleasing."

  "He can't even find pleasure in architecture. He's got to reduce everything down to geometry and mathematical proofs."

  "Doctor, I fail to see why you denigrate such logical tools. Surely it is a better way of approaching a problem than blundering through blindly as you do, relying solely on faulty emotions."

  "Enough," said Kirk, silencing the two antagonists. "I don't want to beam down in the center of a city without announcing
ourselves. Do you think they've discovered us orbiting their planet?"

  "Negative, Captain," said Uhura. "I have been monitoring all radar and other detection bands. They don't seem to use radar, either. Any sighting of us would have to be visual, as we occlude a star."

  "But how do they guide their airplanes? Tight-beamed lasers? Comments, Spock, Uhura?"

  Before either could answer, an all-too-familiar voice filled the bridge. "I demand to know the meaning of this outrage."

  "Ambassador Zarv, please return to your quarters. We are busy with more pressing matters than any you can contribute." Kirk felt mounting irritation at the Tellarite. He hadn't swayed the crew as Kirk had intended, although Lorelei had highly praised the diplomat's histrionic abilities. All Zarv had done was create havoc wherever he went. Kirk had to believe, in part, that the problems aboard the Enterprise were due to the negotiating team's presence—and attitude. If they'd stayed in their quarters, feelings wouldn't have mounted against them. Zarv rubbed everyone the wrong way.

  "I shall do no such thing, Kirk. Why do we spin about this worthless ball of mud? It isn't Ammdon. I know. I've been there, and those continents are different." He waved a pudgy hand at the viewscreen.

  "In case you missed it, Ambassador, our warp engines are shut down and we are in dire straits. There is no easy way of alerting Starbase One of our plight. All five of our message packets were destroyed, and without warp-engine power, we cannot use the subspace radio. We can make only limited use of our transporter. Therefore, on impulse power only it would take us years—"

  "Four hundred seventy three point nine two three, to be exact," furnished Spock.

  ". . . almost five hundred years to return to base. Ammdon is a bit closer."

  "Eighty-eight point six six six years, if the sidereal tables supplied by Ammdon astronomers are accurate."

  "Thank you, Mr. Spock." Kirk's irritation rose with even his science officer. He felt pulled tight and ready to break. "We can neither continue nor return, nor can we contact Starfleet. Therefore, our only course of action is to repair our engines. In such a case, we might be able to finish our trip to Ammdon or, if the engines are not completely fixed, use the subspace radio to report position and condition. I do not see you contributing to a solution in either instance, Ambassador. Return to your quarters and stay there."