Star Trek - Pandora Principle

by Pandora Principle

  "Sir." Harper stood stiffly, eyes front and center, his heart sinking to the toes of his boots. He felt Vulcan eyes boring into him and wished again that he'd been arrested.

  "Dr. Katia Harper was your mother," the voice was deep. calm, almost kind, "Life City was your home. You declined a previous posting to this ship, Mr. Harper. Are you now fit for duty?"

  "Yes, sir," he said staunchly, looked straight into those eyes, and found he couldn't look away. ". but. there's something you should know, sir," he heard himself saying. "I-I worked Dock Four tonight. I sent that thing down to Life City. It was my idea, sir-and it killed my whole-"

  "I have reviewed the duty log and Commander Dorish's report. You made a request, which your CO granted. For the benefit of your mother's expertise, I would have done the same. My request simply went through other channels. As you must know, Mr. Harper, we have burdens in common." At that moment Harper knew he would follow this Vulcan to the ends of the Universe. "Your guilt and remorse are predictable human responses, Lieutenant. But they are useless to this ship. And dangerous where we are going."

  "Across the Zone?" Harper blurted out that sudden leap of intuition, then looked away. "Sorry, just guessing, sir. We'll do something, won't we? I mean, the Romulans can't just-"

  "Our destination is not a subject for discussion," Spock said sharply, not contradicting him. "And I am not at all certain you are able to evaluate your own. please explain that, Lieutenant!"

  "Sir? I don't-" but Spock was looking beyond him, frowning at the duffel bag he'd dumped in the corner.

  It was moving.

  "Oh, no." he gasped, rooted to the spot. The bag wobbled and jerked, rolled about the floor. Tiny blue fingers poked out between its flaps, frantically unsnapping fasteners. And from the depths of its heaving canvas, a muffled voice began to wail.

  "Nnnooo! Not Bobby's fffault! Don't be mad at-" In a scattering of socks, shirts and locker mementos, waving arms and glowing eyes erupted, teetered, then toppled into a heap on the floor. "Bobby!" Obo scrambled to its feet, clasping and unclasping its hands at Spock in supplication. "Be nnnice, okay?"

  Spock regarded them both with disfavor.

  "You are acquainted with this individual, Lieutenant?"

  "Uh. yes, but I." Harper wanted to die, from embarrassment or joy, he wasn't sure which. "How did you get in there?"

  "Sssecret, Bobby! Nnnever tell! Fred said nnnever-" Eyes popped open, blinked fearfully. "-wwwoops!"

  "Indeed." Spock studied the small person attired in Spacedock coveralls that bore no departmental insignia. "What is your name?"

  "Ooobo," it replied.

  "Nickname, sir," Harper explained. "The real one's too long for anyone to-"

  "Your correct name," Spock insisted.

  "Ooobbbooolllooodddrrrooobbbooonnnooo-"

  "Very well, Mr. Obo. Your actions are highly improper. Your presence here is unauthorized. Was it your intention to stow away on a Federation starship?"

  The creature brightened. "Yes!"

  "No, sir. It doesn't understand. Obo's not official Dock personnel, not even in Starfleet-just sort of. adopted. Sir, this is all my fault. I'll go back and answer charges at-"

  "Please, Mr. Harper. Refrain from assuming responsibility for events beyond your control. This all sounds most irregular. Mr. Obo, what, exactly, do you do on Spacedock?"

  "Eeeasy fix!" Obo brightened at once and clapped its hands. "Vvvery quick!"

  "Maintenance?" ventured Spock. Harper nodded weakly.

  "You see, sir, Obo can fix anything-faster and better than anybody. It even knows before something breaks."

  "Yes!" Obo scrambled over to Spock and clung to his trousers. "I am gggood! You will lllike me!" It reached for the Vulcan's hand.

  "No, Obo! Don't-" Harper was too late. He watched, horrified, as Obo began using Spock's hand to pat itself on the head. Unresisting Vulcan fingers came to rest, and neon eyes shuttered closed. Obo blushed from blue to pink to brilliant lavender. Spock's hand finally slipped away. He folded his arms, lifted an eyebrow-and Harper abandoned any hope of ever serving aboard the Enterprise.

  "Obo! Say you're sorry! You shouldn't-"

  "Lieutenant Harper," said Spock severely, "at 0800 hours, you will report to sickbay. The chief medical officer will determine your fitness for duty. You, Mr. Obo, are a stowaway. Therefore, you will work your passage on this ship. What you have heard in this room is in strict confidence! Do you understand?"

  It bobbed solemnly. "Nnnever tell!"

  Spock frowned. "Now, that is your responsibility, Mr. Harper. You will see to it," he said, and strode from the room.

  Harper stared after him, astounded.

  The face on Kirk's screen inspired immediate confidence. Only those who knew Nogura well might notice lines etched where none used to be, eyes once bright gone dull with fatigue. But this was the face of command itself, the reassurance of wisdom, the voice of authority. His timing was perfect, and his delivery was flawless.

  ". Admiral Heihachiro Nogura, speaking to you from Starfleet Command. In compliance with Federation statutes, the Planetary Contingency Code is in effect as of 0300 hours Pacific time. This precautionary measure is mandated by the tragic and unexplained deaths at Life City, California. Until the cause of that disaster is determined, planet Earth has been placed under Federation Quarantine. We regret the inconvenience to citizens."

  ". and you've got clearance, Spock? No hassles?" Kirk looked at Spock's face on one screen while Nogura's broadcast continued on another. The bridge appeared as normal as if he were making a routine call from his cabin. As if this were any other mission.

  "None, Captain. We are undocking now. Radio silence, sir. I regret no further communication will be possible." Spock nodded at the murmurs of moorings cleared, reverse thrust, one quarter impulse power. Enterprise was under way.

  ". transport to and from the planet will cease until further notice. All ground-to-orbit shuttle service is suspended."

  "Spock, Scotty's been saying the warp acceleration 'feels funny.' He wants to check it out in flight. And that little light on my chair's panel doesn't always work-doesn't mean anything. I meant to-well, just sort of tap it. Or ask Uhura. Maybe she-"

  "Captain, I intend to return your ship to you in optimum working condition. All systems will be duly-"

  In the background there was a sudden commotion from the lift: an outraged voice began shouting on the bridge.

  "-finding out what's going on around here!"

  "Bones." Kirk tried to smile as McCoy shoved his worried face into sight.

  "Jim! I hear you're missing the boat! Earth's been quarantined, and we're off on some diplomatic errand-but I don't see any diplomats!"

  "Spock'll explain."

  "Huh. That'll be the day."

  "Take good care of my crew, Doctor."

  "Well, God knows I try. Scotty 's down there fussing over the engines, and he won't talk, and I've got a batch of new kids needing medical. you picked one helluva time for a vacation, Jim."

  "Sorry, Bones."

  "Captain," said Spock, "we are approaching spacedoors."

  This was it. Someone had to sign off, and Spock wasn't going to do it. McCoy glared at them both and fumed.

  It was Kirk who finally broke the connection. "Good luck, all of you. Kirk out." The Vault seemed to echo with his words. Nogura murmured on.

  ". restrictions are temporary, legally required procedures. We hope to restore."

  He shut that off too. And was completely, absolutely alone. Panic rose in his chest. He fought it down, closed his eyes against it-and was back on the bridge, knowing every sound, every order, every move. Feeling the quickened pace and elevated heartbeats of his ship and crew heading into danger. Without him.

  And without a prayer of ever coming back.

  Kirk opened his eyes. The Vault loomed overhead, gray and uncompromising, all muted lighting, computer terminals and steel: an underground city with a population of one. No heartbeats he
re but his own. Up above, it was still spring, flowers were still blooming, and in spite of everything the world was still going on-

  Wasn't it? The thought that it might not be sent Kirk's hand grasping for the comm like a lifeline, and he hit the wrong key.

  Ensign Richards slumped over his open page, frozen in time. Kirk enhanced the image closer and closer. The print came into focus, and between those lifeless fingers, he could read the words:

  "Is that all?" I asked.

  "Well it's all that you're to hear, my son," returned Silver.... "Well," said I. "I know pretty well what I have to look for. I've seen too many die since I fell in with you. But there's a thing or two I have to tell you. here you are in a bad way: ship lost, treasure lost, men lost; your whole business gone to wreck; and if you want to know who did it-it was I! I was in the apple barrel the night we sighted. the page ran out of words.

  And fear ran cold to the bottom of Kirk's soul. For his ship, his world, his Federation on the brink of war-and for all the little brothers. Everywhere.

  Saavik stood on the observation deck and pressed her forehead to its transparent wall for one last glimpse of docking bays and ships in port drifting by. As Enterprise rose higher and higher in the towering twilight, Dock's massive spacedoors yawned across her view. Then with signals changing red to green and come-aheads flashing, the doors began to move. They parted slowly, opening wider and wider onto a deep and constant night.

  "Now departing Spacedock. Prepare for warp speed."

  She heard a step beside her, felt a quiet presence.

  "Commander Uhura," she murmured.

  "Not the visit you planned, Saavik. I'm sorry."

  Saavik found nothing to say, and Uhura seemed to expect no reply. The commander had been on the bridge all this time-and must have heard. everything. As they stood together watching the stars turn past, the ship's rotation carried Earth into sight. Saavik thought of oceans and rain, trees of flowers, baseball under saffron sun and cobalt skies. And people. All the people.

  They were not likely to see those things again.

  "Your world is very beautiful, Commander."

  "Yes." Tears welled in Uhura's eyes. "You know, a lot of us have never even been here. And some of us don't get back much anymore. But this is where we came from, once. It's. home."

  That word again. "I used to believe," Saavik whispered, "that on a ship it mattered more where I was going than where I came from. I have much to learn."

  "Well, you go right on believing it." A tear escaped, streaked down Uhura's face; she never took her eyes from the view. The planet hung below them: a fragile, watery crescent of blue, its yellow sun peeking out and shedding light from the east, bringing a dawn still hours away from the domes of Life City and the windowed walls of Starfleet where no one was alive to see it come. ". because it's true. And we're always on a ship, Saavik. Whether we know it or not."

  But now we're going where I came from, Saavik thought, to a place of no beauty or goodness at all. Only a dream. But I am going to find that dream and that terrible thing I did-on my hateful, ugly world. And I swear, I swear by this beautiful planet and this ship that holds our lives, I am going to kill that dream-even if it kills me. I'll do whatever I must, so that evil place will never, ever hurt anyone else again.

  Earth sank below her field of vision, and when Saavik looked around she found herself alone.

  "Warp speed in ten seconds. Stand by, please."

  There was no sound, only a kind of pause, a faint vibration in the deck beneath her feet. Then space went wild. Form and color fractured into spectra. Light streamed. Senses twisted and referents dissolved, and Saavik touched her hands to the window, longing to feel the quantum shift itself. Light bled away then; the galaxy contracted to a funnel of dark. From far ahead at its vanishing point, asteroids and planets detached themselves, hurtled toward her, rolled by beneath her hands.

  And with the light-years slipping through her fingers, Saavik almost forgot where they were going. There was no Hellguard here, no anger, no shame. No past or future, birth or death. Life was a ship, bound for Infinity, and there were only stars.

  * * *

  Praetor Tahn was not an idealistic man, not even an intelligent one, and he would never be reckoned among the swift or the brave. But he did have the wit to keep to his house since that night's fateful meeting. Having long known there would come an end of his usefulness to The Cause, he'd planned well for the inevitable day-so that when it arrived, he would be elsewhere.

  Safely, wealthily, elsewhere.

  Small amounts at first, funds diverted from secret projects or purchases of Klingon ships, discreetly converted into gold and silver coin of the realm, sometimes a precious ruby-negotiable anywhere, anywhere at all. Over the years his talent for accounts and his fortune grew. But spending it on this pathetic holding, surrounded by estates far more powerful than his, would buy him only scrutiny and disaster. He hated this place anyway, hated this backwater world. He wanted wine, not weapons-silk, not ships. Life had dealt him a miserable inheritance and dangerous neighbors, but Praetor Tahn dreamed of better things.

  So that night he rushed home, panic clutching at his heart, the First's words ringing in his ears: treachery from within. ships and soldiers. yours. and shivering inside his cloak, he sent the servants to bed, took his lamp and keys, and went down to a locked room deep in the moldering cellars.

  It was gone. All his twenty chests, all his careful plans, all his dreams of warm sun and the good life someday-gone! Without so much as a scratch on the lock. O gods.

  Somehow, the First had found him out. That empty room was his death sentence, to be carried out at the whim of a dark and deadly mind-whose identity was still unknown to him, whose Grand Design would bring the Empire down.

  For the First had overreached himself this time: his weapon snuffed out worlds. And invader ships would not come in twos and threes provoking convenient conflict, no. They would come by hundreds, crushing the Empire's worlds, blasting the Romulan people out of the stars for what they dared to do. Protests would reach government officials, who would know nothing, deny everything, as they had so many times before. They would not be believed. And certain as the rising sun, those ships would come.

  Tahn knew this, and he was afraid. The cup trembled in his hand; its wine was bitter and brought him no release. He'd spent these days marking portents, casting stones, seeking omens in the simplest of things. That in itself was a bad sign. Things were no longer simple. His life hung upon a slender hope, and he waited.

  At last, from a high window, he saw that hope coming carefree to his gates: black cloak swinging, hood cast back, smiling at the guards who knew to let him pass. One hope, one chance. but it meant confiding. O gods. Tahn began to sweat when footsteps rang along the corridor, shivered when the door swung back.

  "Old friend!" Tahn cried, and spilled a bit of wine. "By the gods, you've come!"

  "Ever at your service, Tahn," the man said smiling, and helped himself to food and drink, as if in all the Empire there was nothing he could fear. "How goes the world?"

  "O do not speak of worlds, old friend. One way or another, I am leaving this one soon. Plans. change, you see," Tahn clung desperately to generalities. "Events move more quickly than-"

  "Why, you are not looking well, Tahn. The weight of office, perhaps? Some pressing concern of government?"

  "Yes, yes. er, no. A small matter, a trifle, yet calling for discretion. er, secrecy, that is to say. Old friend," he cast pretense aside, "I need your help. I am in danger. But undertake this thing for me-and succeed-and you may name your price."

  "When you have named the matter, friend. One depends upon the other."

  Tahn checked the soundshield, then crossed the room and took his visitor by the arm. As his fingers sank into the folds of blackspun silk, he wondered how this man came by such luxuries, wondered many things about him-and felt a sudden fear. But there was no time to wonder. Their interests had coincided for many
years, and Tahn had to trust in someone. What had been his, must have been his again.

  "Then listen well, old friend," he whispered hoarsely, "and do this if you can. My life depends upon it."

  His guest departed as smiling and carefree as he came, and Tahn thanked the gods, just in case there were any. Whoever the First might be, wherever he might strike, now Tahn had a chance. Now he had a plan. Now he had the service and the word of his resourceful friend. And now, when there was time, Tahn could not afford to wonder anymore. Now he had to believe.