Crisis On Centaurus

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Crisis On Centaurus Page 21

by Brad Ferguson


  "Understood."

  "I'm an old lawyer, Jim. I've seen it all. You do what I do for a living, and you get an instinct for what the truth is in a case. I felt all along that Barclay was lying to me about his role in the conspiracy. My gut told me he and Holtzman's son, at least, had known about the plan to bomb New Athens all along."

  "He must have," Kirk had said. "Once tachyonic interference from below cleared up enough, we sensor-scanned the surface of Centaurus for antimatter and easily found the three annihilation weapons Barclay boasted about back in the cabin. Security disarmed them, and I gave them to the Conrad's captain for evidence. I wonder why Barclay showed his hand like that?"

  Cogley had taken a sip of his cooling coffee. "Because he's fundamentally stupid, Jim. He couldn't resist boasting about his 'power,' and he must have figured, somehow, that a starship couldn't detect the presence of antimatter from orbit. Ridiculous! But a smart man—even a not-so-smart one—would never swallow the League's political program. It's just warmed-over national socialism, with an unhealthy chunk of racial hatred thrown in for flavoring."

  "Delusions of grandeur?" Kirk had asked. "Sounds likely, anyway. Barclay figured he was so damn good that no one could stop him. He must have figured he'd get off Centaurus, courtesy of the Federation, and then stop the Federation from taking action against him by threatening to use his three remaining bombs."

  Cogley had nodded. "The secret of cheap antimatter production was lost with Isidore Holtzman. His son doesn't know how to do it; Barclay certainly doesn't, and Holtzman didn't work with assistants. Of course, given the hint, some bright boy will figure it out all over again, and there might be another problem someday. But at least Barclay's run is at an end."

  Kirk had nodded, agreeing. "But how did you know he was guilty, Sam?"

  Cogley had paused. "I always trust my gut, Jim. It's like when, a couple of years ago, I took on the job of defending a starship captain in a case involving airtight, indisputable evidence that he was guilty of gross negligence and perjury, and maybe murder, in the death of a fellow officer. Open and shut—but my gut told me then that you were innocent, Jim, despite how things looked for you … just as my gut's now telling me that Barclay and Holtzman are guilty as hell of conspiracy. They may be guilty of far more than that. But guilty or innocent, Jim, those two deserve the best defense they can get; that's the way it works. And I can't deliver that; I've seen New Athens. They'll have to hire somebody who hasn't."

  "What will you do next?" Kirk had asked.

  Cogley had come up with the ghost of a grin. "After the Conrad drops my soon-to-be-former clients on Earth and their representation is set, I'm coming back here. The Federation's decided to charge Nathaniel Burke and Daniel Perez with gross obstruction of justice. Seems they used their government posts to try to keep a starship captain from securing custody of five suspects wanted by the Federation."

  Kirk had stared at Cogley, and then burst out laughing.

  Cogley had smiled. "It'd be a conflict for me if it ever got to trial, Jim, because I was so involved—but it'll never get that far. I've already put out feelers, and the Federation prosecutor will be satisfied if the two of them simply resign their offices and drop out of government for keeps."

  "Somehow, I don't mind that much," Kirk had admitted. "Burke and Perez lost their families in New Athens. That affects a man."

  "It surely does," Cogley had said, finishing his coffee. . . .

  "Call from Mr. Spock," Uhura called out from the communications station, interrupting Kirk's reverie.

  "Thank you, Lieutenant." Kirk thumbed the ACCEPT pad on the arm of his chair. "Yes, Mr. Spock?"

  "Captain, I am down in the computer room. I have something you may be interested in. Are you able to come down here? You will not need a 'clean suit'; I have sealed all working computer banks."

  "Certainly. Be right down. Kirk out." The captain rose. "Mr. Sulu, you have the conn. I'll be down in the brain room."

  "Aye, aye, Captain."

  The turbolift doors squeaked open for Kirk, and he stepped inside. "Computer room," he said, and the idiot circuits Spock and Scott had installed to substitute for the computers' much more complicated vocal-response processors shut the doors and sent the 'lift on its way. God, it's nice to have things working again, Kirk told himself.

  The 'lift doors opened, and Kirk saw that the entrance to the computer room, usually sealed shut, was wide open. "Spock?" he called.

  "In here, Captain," the Vulcan said.

  Kirk entered. Things were all right. As Spock had said, the intact banks of the computer room had been sealed behind shields of acrylic to preserve the utter cleanliness they required; the rest of the banks had been ruined and, for them, cleanliness no longer mattered. Spock had spent a morning completing the shielding so that he could enter the computer room without having to go through the lengthy personal cleansing process each time. Logical, thought Kirk.

  "Greetings, Captain," Spock said politely. "I believe I have an answer to the question of why most of our computer banks were destroyed."

  "Oh. From your tone, I take it that it wasn't an act of sabotage, after all?"

  "Not that, nor was it the fault of anyone's carelessness. We were the victims of a freak accident—but it may turn out to be a fortuitous one."

  "An 'accident.' What do you mean, Spock?"

  "Quite simply, Captain, we went through a black hole—or we could say quite as easily that a black hole went through us. It left its mark behind it: the perfectly circular and regular holes drilled through the dead computer banks. Look here." Spock walked to bank 15, counting from the left; he touched it with an inertial screwdriver, and it rolled out from the wall.

  "Observe, Captain," Spock said, pointing at the hole in the bank. "Bank fourteen, the one to the left of this, is intact. You see that the hole in bank fifteen does not quite penetrate it entirely. Now bank sixteen"—Spock withdrew it from its bulkhead—"was completely penetrated. This is also true of banks seventeen through two twenty-four. I found that bank two twenty-five was intact, so I withdrew number two twenty-four entirely from the bulkhead and found the other end of the hole, perhaps a centimeter deep inside."

  "So a black hole did it? How do you know?"

  "I inferred that from the tricorder readings I took soon after the computer banks were rendered non-operational," Spock said. "However, I did not credit my initial assumption, because not all facts fit. Simply put, a black hole should not do what this one did."

  "What did this one do, Spock?"

  "Look at this, Captain." Spock handed Kirk a computer printout. It read:

  TIME 0.0000000087 SEC

  DISTANCE 20.8655928 METERS

  RADIUS 6.5800255222685 X 10-22 CM

  MASS 4431.0476216943 KG (STD)

  TEMP 4.4310476216943 X 1032 K

  "That is really all there is to it, Captain," Spock said. "The Hawking equations concerning black holes apply here. We have known since the twentieth century that small black holes—those massing less than planetary size—are not eternal. Very small ones die very quickly. However, until now, no black hole is known to have come into spontaneous existence since the Big Bang. Such have been theorized, but none has ever been found.

  "At the time the hole damaged our computers, the Enterprise was making warp two. At that speed the ship travels nearly twenty-one meters in just under nine billionths of a second. The hole was not moving; rather, we traveled through where the hole was, and that is what did the damage. The length of the track the hole left in our computer banks is the amount of distance the ship traveled in the time the hole existed. Further, allowing for massive tidal and thermal forces, and the fractive quotient of the material used in casting the banks, the diameter of the hole's track is consistent with the diameter of the black hole, as conjectured."

  "But wait a minute, Spock," Kirk said. "If I'm reading this printout right, you say the black hole massed nearly four and a half tons."

  "Correct, Captain.
"

  "That means we were hit by the equivalent of a good-sized boulder traveling at eight times the speed of light. Why aren't we dead?"

  "I do not know yet," Spock said. "Theoretically, the energy released by such a collision should have utterly destroyed the Enterprise. That it did not is both fortunate and mysterious. It may be that we are talking about two different kinds of qualities of mass, one of which may only partially affect the other. The situation challenges everything I know of physics, Captain, and I have been studying it for most of this past week with only limited success."

  "You'll get another academic paper out of it, anyway," said Kirk.

  "Several, undoubtedly," Spock said. "However, I wish I had more data with which to write them. But at least there is this: We have a unique artifact here before us, Captain—a complete, unbroken life history of a black hole, from beginning to end. A close inspection of the track of the black hole may some day yield discoveries that have eluded us for some time."

  Kirk rubbed his chin. "Keep after it, Spock. We'll have five—or six—weeks at Starbase Seven; you have that much leave time coming to you, at least. Use it to the fullest."

  "Thank you, Captain. I appreciate it."

  "Uh, one more thing. I'd been hoping you might find the time to go with me to Centaurus for a stay in Garrovick Valley. The ship will be in the hands of the repair crews for some weeks, and we've all got some R and R coming, but I don't suppose…?"

  "On the contrary, Captain. I would be pleased to join you. I found the valley pleasant and restful in the brief time I was there with Columbus for your pickup. The valley agreed with my sense of the aesthetic."

  "Oh. Well, fine, Spock! Come by when you care to, stay as long as you want. There's no schedule and no calendar at my place."

  "I think I might like it by the riverbank, Captain," Spock said musingly. "It looked quite peaceful there." The Vulcan paused. "Captain, may I be permitted a question?"

  "Of course, Spock."

  "Why have you never told me of the valley? Its purchase seems quite an achievement."

  Kirk thought for a moment, and then shook his head. "I don't know, Spock. I never talk about my place. The only person aboard the ship who knew about it was Dr. McCoy, and that only because he was with me when I found it, many years ago. I suppose I may be jealously guarding my privacy somehow."

  "I understand 'private matters,' Captain," Spock said. "And I understand that a starship captain has many demands on him. A Vulcan has deep and unshakable notions of privacy." He paused. "I was—disturbed—that you perhaps thought I would not recognize the valley's importance to you, or that I would not respect any confidence concerning it."

  "No. Never that."

  "I am relieved. Later, then, Captain?"

  "Of course." Kirk turned to leave.

  "Go well, Jim," Spock said to his back.

  Captain's log, stardate 7521.6:

  The U.S.S. Hood has arrived, and her captain has relieved this ship of duty at this station. Starfleet has cut our orders for drydock work at Starbase Seven, and Mr. Scott assures me the ship is ready to go.

  Iziharry, Constance, a nurse in the medical section and a native of Centaurus, has reconfirmed her desire to stay home and assist in rescue and reclamation efforts. I have accepted her resignation from the service with regret. Three other personnel—McHenry, Thomas; Garibaldi, Mona; and Siderakis, Peter—have submitted separation requests for the same reason, and I have approved these as well. Iziharry will continue working with Dr. Weinstein; the other three will take jobs in the Reclamation and Reconstruction Agency being set up by Thad Hayes. Each of the three will be a worthy addition to the RRA.

  Dr. McCoy will remain behind as well, but only temporarily. He will rejoin the Enterprise at Starbase Seven when our repairs have been completed. In the meantime he will work with his daughter, Joanna, under Dr. Weinstein. I have offered Joanna McCoy an appointment to the Medical School Division of Starfleet Academy, and she is considering acceptance. Her father heartily approves of the notion. So, for that matter, do I; Joanna McCoy would make a splendid addition to Starfleet's medical roster.

  And so, at last, it was all as it should be, with Mr. Spock at his science station and Captain Kirk in the command chair, seated behind Sulu and Chekov manning the positions at the helm. "Mr. Chekov, lay in a course for Starbase Seven," Kirk ordered.

  "Computed and laid in, sir," Chekov responded smartly.

  Kirk was feeling that familiar thrill again—the one he felt every time he was about to say this: "Helmsman, take us out."

  "Aye, aye, sir," Sulu answered.

  The hum of the impulse engines rose high as the Enterprise set out once more to soar among the stars that lined her never-ending road.

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