by Джеймс Блиш
“The damage we might do,” Spock said, “might well be worth the price to the Federation. Mr. Sulu’s suggestion has considerable merit from a strategic point of view.”
“And I’m willing to entertain the idea if I have to,” Kirk said. “But it’s clearly a suicidal tactic. My responsibility is to the ship and the crew, as well as to the Federation. I’m not about to lose the Enterprise and everybody aboard her on such a venture, without direct orders from the Federation to do so. If I receive such orders, I’ll obey them; without such orders, I veto the scheme. Has anybody another notion?”
“There exists what I would call an intermediate possibility, Captain,” Spock said. “It depends from a rather shaky chain of logic, but it may be the best we can manage.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Very well. We can safely assume, first of all, that the Klingons would not have risked starting the war without feeling some assurance that they had the Federation outmatched both in fire-power and fire-control. No one but a berserker would start a war under any other circumstances, and the Klingons, while warlike in the extreme, are not berserkers.
“Subpoint one: We may assume that the Klingons have new weapons, as well as what they believe to be preponderance of familiar ones. But we do not know what these might be.
“Main point two: Since the Organians have forbidden any such war and had the power to stop it, it follows that the Klingons would not have started it unless they had advance knowledge that the Organians were out of commission.
“Subpoint two: This knowledge may be in itself the most important of the new weapons in the Klingons’ hands. However…
“Conclusion: At least a forty per cent probability that the Klingons have used a new weapon which caused the immobilization or destruction of Organia.”
“Whew,” Sulu said. “I was following you, Mr. Spock, but I sure didn’t suspect that that was where you were going.”
“Where do you get your probability figure?” Uhura asked. “I didn’t hear any such parameters in your premises.”
“One may diagram an argument of this type as a series of overlapping circles,” Spock said. “When you eliminate those parts of the circles which lie outside the area they have in common…”
“Never mind that,” Kirk said. “What you’ve given us thus far is only the logical chain you mentioned. Do you have a course of action to recommend?”
“Certainly.”
“All right. Uhura, call Dr. McCoy and Mr. Scott up here. I don’t want to go any farther until they’ve been filled in.”
This was not very time-consuming, since Spock had recorded the whole conversation, as he routinely did any discussion preliminary to a Command decision. Scott and the surgeon listened to the recording intently.
“All clear, Doc? Scotty? Any questions? All right, Mr. Spock; what is your proposed course of action?”
The first officer said, “Why not go to Organia, instead of to any Starbase, and try to find out what exactly has happened there? Such a course has almost all of the tactical advantages invoked by Mr. Sulu — it would vastly disorganize the Klingons’ rear echelon, through sheer surprise and the military weakness of this side of the Empire. Furthermore, we would be going in an unexpected direction; once the Klingons detected us, they would naturally expect us to be bent upon rejoining the Fleet, or getting under the protection of the heavy guns of a Starbase. That Organia was our actual destination would probably be their third guess, and it might well be their fifth or sixth. Finally, the possible strategic advantage can hardly be overestimated: should we succeed in finding out what happened to Organia, and doing something about it, the war would be ended.”
“Unless,” McCoy added, “what happened to Organia turns out to be irreparable except by God.”
“I offer no guarantees,” Spock said evenly. “Only possibilities.”
“I rather like the proposal,” Kirk said slowly. “The risk is still enormous, of course, but at least the scheme isn’t outright suicidal. Mr. Spock, I need two computations: first, transit time to Organia from our present coordinates at Warp Six; and second, transit time to territorial space of the Empire on the same line of flight.”
Spock turned to his hooded station, and said after a moment, “We would officially enter Klingon space in two months, and the remaining transit time to Organia would be four months more. Of course, there is always the chance that the Klingons may be patrolling beyond their own territory, but I estimate the probability as low on this side of the Empire.”
It could be worse, Kirk realized. Here was one Command decision which was actually going to allow him the luxury of reflection; only a partial decision was required right now, on the spot. He had, apparently, a minimum of a whole month in which to change his mind.
But all he said was, “Mr. Sulu, lay course for Organia at Warp Six. Lieutenant Uhura, extend all sensors to maximum range, beginning now, and tie in an automatic full battle alert to anything that might indicate another ship. Also, call me at once should anything come through from Starfleet Command.”
“Of course, Captain,” the communications officer said.
But in fact nothing did come through, which was scarcely surprising. Though it was normal for a starship to be out of touch with the Federation hierarchy for long periods, the sheer volume of messages which came in daily to Starfleet Command was nevertheless vast, and the chances of picking up an unscheduled message in a microsecond pip — a message, furthermore, which did not dare to call attention to itself — correspondingly tiny. As was also usual. Kirk was going to have to play this one on his own judgment alone.
He observed, however, that there was some unusual activity going on in the ship’s computation section. Scotty evidently had a problem of considerable complexity; for nearly a week he was in earnest conference with Spock, armed with sheafs of, to begin with, equations, and later, rough engineering specs. Kirk left them to themselves. Whatever they were doing, they were not wasting their time, that was certain; and he would hear about it in good order.
And at the end of the week, Scott in fact requested an interview with Kirk in the Captain’s working quarters.
“Captain, d’ye recall our chatter with Doc about the transporter, an’ his various misgivin’s?”
“Yes, Scotty, though I can’t say it has been losing me any sleep.”
“Weel, ah dinna been fashin’ mysel’ over the moral part of it, either. But I got to thinkin’ it was a vurra pretty technical problem, an’ what I’ve come up with the noo seems to have a bearin’ on our present situation.”
“Somehow I’m not surprised,” Kirk said. “Tell me about it.”
“D’ye ken what tachyons are?”
“I was told about them in school. As I recall, they’re particles that travel faster than light — for which nobody’s ever found any use.”
“An’ that’s the truth, but only part of it. Tachyons canna travel any slower than light, and what their top speed might be has nae been determined. They exist in what’s called Hilbert space, which has as many dimensions as ye need to assume for the solvin’ of any particular problem. An’ for every particle in normal space — be it proton, electron, positron, neutron, nae matter what — there’s an equivalent tachyon.”
“That,” Kirk said, “is already a lot more than my instructor seemed to know about them.”
“A lot has been discovered since then. I had to have a refresher course from Mr. Spock mysel’, believe me. But it’s aye important. Suppose we were to redesign the transporter so that, instead of scannin’ a man an’ replicatin’ him at destination in his normal state, it replicated him in tachyons, at this end of the process? That would solve the moral problem, because the original subject wouldna go anywhere — while the tachyon creature, which canna exist in the everyday universe with us, would go on to destination and revert to normal there. No murder, if such be in fact the problem, ever occurs.”
“Hmm. It seems to me…”
“Wait, C
aptain, there’s more. The method vastly extends the range of the transporter. I canna tell you exactly how far, but our present sixteen-thousand-mile limit would be the flight of a gnat by comparison.
“Result? We send a man to Organia from here. He gathers the data we need; when he returns to the ship, we hold him in the tachyon state for as long as is needed to yield up the material. Then we let the field go, and poof! The replica becomes so much tachyon plasma in another universe, and our original has never even left the ship!”
“Obviously,” Kirk said slowly, “you wouldn’t be bringing this to me if you weren’t sure you had the mechanics solved.”
“That’s the fact, Captain, and it’s aye proud of oursel’ we are, too,” Scott said. “Geniuses we are, an’ you may gi’e us medals at your convenience. But seriously, it will work, an’ we can do it. To modify the machine itself is the work of a week — an’ we needn’t travel another inch closer to the Klingon Empire than we are by then.”
“We’ll go on traveling anyhow,” Kirk said. “I like to have choices open.”
“To be sure — my hyperbole was showin’.”
Kirk clicked on the intercom. “Kirk here. Mr. Spock, place the ship on full automatic control. All department heads to the briefing room at zero point seven this day. Kirk out.” The intercom went off. “Mr. Scott, proceed with your alterations of the transporter — making sure in the process that they’re not permanent.”
“Vurra good,” Scott said, getting up. Kirk raised his hand.
“But,” he added, “if I were you, I wouldn’t tell Dr. McCoy that I’d solved his moral problem.”
“No?”
“No. You see, Scotty, he’s likely to ask you if the tachyon replicate has an immortal soul — and somehow I don’t think you’d be in a position to answer.”
Chapter Three — THE TANK TRAP
From the Captain’s Log, Star Date 4018.4:
Upon assurance from Mr. Scott that there was no bodily danger inherent in his transporter modification, Mr. Spock was chosen as the logical emissary to Organia. He was on the planet during the entire affair which led to the treaty (see Log entry Star Date 3199.4), and personally knows Ayelborne, Claymare and Trefayne — or at least knows the humanoid shapes they assume, as his is known to them. The only other person thus qualified is myself. In addition, Mr. Spock is probably the closest observer of us all.
There was a number of transporter rooms in various parts of the Enterprise, but it was the main one that Scott modified, for the obvious reason: power. Of all the modifications, only one was immediately visible, although Kirk was in no doubt that there were other changes on the free-standing console of which the Transporter Officer and his technician were aware. The circular platform of the transporter chamber itself had been enclosed in gleaming metal, so that its six positions could no longer be seen — only the steps leading up to them.
“The shielding unfortunately is necessary,” the engineering officer explained to Kirk and Spock. “As long as the field is on, the whole interior of the chamber is effectively in another universe — or more exactly, in a kind of continuum in which a transfinite number and variety of universes are possible — and the effect has to be confined. I could just as well have used wire mesh — for instance, shuttlecraft landing-pad web — so we could see in, but I had the armor plate to hand from another job and I was in a hurry, as I assume we all are.”
Scott’s burr vanished completely when he was trying to be as precise as possible. Kirk was thoroughly used to this, but nevertheless it seldom failed to make him smile.
“That’ll do for now, Scotty. We can add frills later. In fact, if this works as you’ve predicted, engineers all over the galaxy will be thinking up refinements for it. For now, what exactly is the program?”
“Pretty much as it always is, Captain, except for the distance involved. We set up the coordinates on the console — by the way, Mr. Spock, what are they?”
“Eleven eight seventy d. y. by eighty-five seventy-four sixty-eight K.”
The Transporter Officer looked astonished — evidently Scott had not yet filled him in on “the distance involved” — but made no comment. Scott went on.
“Then Mr. Spock steps into the tank, and stands on any station; we close the door and activate the machine. He won’t notice a thing, for though he’ll be momentarily surrounded by n-dimensional space, he’s only equipped to perceive four at a time, like the rest of us. But he won’t disappear — he’ll just step out of the tank again. In the meantime, his replicate will be on its way to Organia, and will be returned here automatically, one day after materialization, no matter when that takes place. If that’s not a long enough stay, we’ll send him back. When the replicate arrives here, we’ll again have established Hilbert space in the tank, and will maintain it for as long as it takes the replica to report.”
“Clear enough for now,” Kirk said. “Mr. Spock, are you ready?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Into the tank with you then,” Scott said.
Spock entered, and the door closed behind him. The transporter officer manipulated the controls. As Scott had predicted, there was nothing to be seen, nor did the familiar muted whine of the transporter field seem changed in any way. Kirk tried to imagine what an n-dimensional space would be like, and was not surprised to fail.
“That’s all there is to it,” Scott said. “He can come out now.”
Spock, however, failed to appear. Kirk said, “We seem to have forgotten to arrange any way to let him know that. I assume it’s safe to open the door now?”
“Entirely, Captain.”
Kirk went to the platform and slid the door back. “Mr. Spock…”
Then he stopped. Spock was there, all right, and apparently quite unharmed. In fact, he was one hundred per cent too much there.
There were two identical Spocks in the tank.
The two Spocks were eyeing each other with a mixture of wariness and disdain, like a man trying to fathom the operation of a trick mirror. Kirk was sure that his own expression was a good deal less judicious.
“Which of you,” he demanded, “is the original?”
“I am, Captain,” both Spocks said, in chorus.
“I was afraid you’d say that. Well, let’s get one problem settled right now. Hereafter, I will address you,” he pointed to the man on his left, “as Spock One, and you,” he pointed to his right, “as Spock Two. This implies no decision on my part as to which of you is in fact the original. Scotty, obviously you didn’t anticipate any such outcome.”
“Nay, I dinna,” Scott said. “‘Tis a pity we couldna see into the tank now, since otherwise we’d know which was which by the station he’s on.”
“Can you determine that?” Kirk asked the transporter officer.
“No, sorry, sir, I can’t. Under this new setup, all the stations were activated at once.”
“And Scotty, equally obviously neither of them can be tachyon constructs.”
“Thot’s aye eempossible,” Scott agreed unhappily.
“Then the next task is to figure out how and why this happened, and if possible, discover some way to distinguish between the original and the replicate. With two Spocks on this ship, I must say, there ought to be no logical problem we can’t lick.”
“Unless,” Spock One said, “we think exactly alike, in which case the replicate is simply a superfluity.”
“Quite obviously you don’t think exactly alike,” Kirk said, “or both of you would have offered that remark simultaneously and in the same words.”
“True but not relevant, Captain, if I may so observe,” said Spock Two. “Even if we thought exactly alike at the moment of creation of the replicate, from then on our experiences differ slightly — beginning, of course, with the simple difference that we occupy different positions in space-time. This will create a divergence in our thinking which will inevitably widen as time goes on.”
“The difference, however, may remain trivial for some
significant time to come,” said Spock One.
“We are already disagreeing, are we not?” Spock Two said coldly. “That is already a nontrivial difference.”
“That’s enough cross talk, both of you,” Kirk said. “You certainly both sound like the real Spock, as well as look like him, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re creating twice the confusion he did on his worst logic jags. Spock One, go to your quarters and remain there until I call you. Spock Two, come with me to my quarters.”
Neither man spoke further until turboelevator and corridors brought them to Kirk’s workroom, where Kirk waved the problematical second First Officer to the chair before his desk.
“Now then,” the Captain said. “first of all, did you in fact get to Organia for even a fraction of a second? And if so, did you see anything useful?”
“No, Captain. Nothing happened except that suddenly there were two Spocks in the chamber. And I can tell you positively that there is no hiatus in my memory at that point.”
“I’m sorry to hear it — not only because we need the information badly, but because it might have provided a clue for telling the two of you apart. You still maintain that you are the original Spock, I suppose?”
“I do,” Spock Two said, in the tone he generally reserved for reporting an established fact of nature.
“Well, you see what the situation is as well as I do. While I suppose I could learn to live with two Mr. Spocks aboard — I might even come to like it — the ship cannot tolerate two first officers. Which of you do I demote, and to what post, and on what grounds?”
Spock Two raised his eyebrows. “May I suggest, Captain, that the situation is far more serious than that? To take a relatively minor aspect of it first, perhaps you can learn to live with two Spocks, but it would be somewhat painful for me. If you will imagine what it would be like for you to have a second James T. Kirk abroad in the universe, you will readily understand why.”
