“We must scale our plans to fit our problems, Mister Scott.”
The engineer grinned. “Very well said, sir. D’you mind if I quote you?”
While they waited for Spock’s eyebrow to come back down, Ne-Kewii spoke. “I’m still not sure you can find a way when we’ve been unable to find one for decades,” she said. “The problem is immensely complicated. The systems that keep the Web and the atmosphere in balance are made up of thousands of different components, one in every module. They interact and overlap one another for redundancy, but each one is independent, and any one that goes wrong can be overridden by the others around it. There’s no way to infect the whole system with a virus, no single central control we can take over. There would need to be a coordinated effort from dozens of control centers at once.” She ruffled her silver wings. “We don’t have enough people to mount such a widespread takeover even with your crew’s help, and it would be too violent. We’re trying to save lives, not take them.”
“Also,” Spock observed, “a violent takeover would run the risk of damaging control systems we need intact. And if our forces failed to capture a sufficient number of control centers, the implementation would not succeed.”
“Well, certainly,” Scott said. “If you wanted to go in with guns blazin’, you’d be talking to Sulu now instead of me. So what can we do instead?”
“If we cannot take over the control systems physically or with a computer virus,” Spock said, “perhaps we could devise a way to take them over remotely planetwide.”
“That’s been considered too,” Ne-Kewii said. “The system has countermeasures against remote take-over. The original builders were very cautious, and understandably so.”
“But those countermeasures are only designed to account for methods known within the First Federation. They may be vulnerable to methods you have never before encountered.” Spock turned to Scott. “Specifically, Mister Scott, are you conversant with the techniques which the Romulans used during the Earth-Romulan War to gain remote control of enemy vessels?”
Scott’s eyes widened. “Aye, I’ve read about those. Cost us a lot of good ships before we found a way to beat it.” He chuckled. “Oh, they had some mighty devious ways to sneak a subspace signal past a ship’s defenses, get right into the core processors. I’d be surprised if anyone from the FF had ever seen the like.”
“Excellent,” Spock said. “Then if Ne-Kewii provides you with the specifications for the Web’s control systems, you could assist us in adapting the Romulan protocols accordingly?”
The engineer chuckled. “I certainly could, sir. And may I say, it’s a plan worthy o’ Captain Kirk himself.”
“I sincerely hope so,” Spock replied. “For it may be the captain’s only chance of survival.”
* * *
Nisu Miratuli cursed herself for a fool. She had been so blind, thinking Spock could be trusted to understand the importance of the Web just because she imagined him a kindred spirit. She’d compromised her duties as a protector out of a desire for relief from a lifetime of loneliness.
People always assumed Kisaja were so happy, so connected. Most of the time, that was true. It was the nature of her people to form easy bonds, to empathize and identify with others. But a Kisaja protector was another matter. Her job required her to deal mainly with the angry, the disturbed, the antisocial—those who endangered the safety of those around them. Constant exposure to such minds, to personalities defined by a sense of disconnection or antagonism toward the world around them, inevitably left its mark on a Kisaja’s psyche. Perhaps, Nisu thought, that was why Warden Mure had allowed the “accident” of timing that had placed Kirk and the Dassik prisoner in the exercise yard at the same time. She had no hard evidence to refute the warden’s report of a sensor malfunction and scheduling mix-up, and he had been cooperative toward the oversight team she had sent in to ensure the prisoners’ safety. But she had sensed something in Mure that had made her uneasy—because she recognized that it was also within herself.
If anything, the psychological impact of the work might be harder on a Kisaja like Nisu, who had been prone to depression and loneliness ever since her parents had been violently taken from her. The downside of psionic sensitivity was that other Kisaja often found it difficult to be near someone in such a dark state of mind. Although they had done their best to comfort and reassure Nisu, she had always suspected it was more for their own benefit than hers. In the streets and public buildings of the Kisaja module, she had often felt the need to keep her eyes downcast, to retreat from public gaze and gravitate toward enclosed and isolated areas, so as not to trouble others with her own psychic burdens. That was probably why she’d become a protector in the first place: She was already predisposed to understand those with darker states of mind.
Still, the solitude took its toll, and she often wished to find someone who could understand and ease it for her. She had found Spock’s emotional restraint and logical discipline of thought to be a haven of peace—yet when she had sensed the isolation, uncertainty, and repressed sadness lying beneath his control, it had touched her heart and made her too quick to trust him. Hearing him advocate the paranoid theories of the dissidents had been the rude awakening she’d needed. At first, she’d assumed he had simply gone fishing for anything that could help him absolve his captain of four thousand murders. But then she’d reminded herself of her earlier folly in making assumptions about Spock. What if he hadn’t stumbled across the dissidents’ theories by accident? It stood to reason that the doomsday sect would see the Enterprise as a lifeboat off the sinking ship they imagined the Web to be—or worse, a means to recruit outside help to “save” the Web by overthrowing the Council and the triumvirs. They would try to make contact. Maybe they already had.
She had therefore placed Spock and the rest of the Enterprise crew under increased surveillance and begun doing the same for those Web citizens they interacted with—including her own escort staff. Kisaja couldn’t normally read beyond surface thoughts without consent, and it wasn’t ethical to probe deeper without judicial authorization, so anyone who had a disciplined enough mind could hide dissident sympathies from her.
Such paranoid thinking wasn’t normally the way of the First, and if Nisu’s hunch hadn’t paid off, she would probably have had to answer to the board of ethics. But they were dealing with outsiders, and as Tirak so often reminded her, outsiders were dangerous. Yes, the doomsayers within were a serious threat, but multiple outside forces were already disrupting the Web’s careful balance, creating unrest of a sort the safe haven of Cherela had not experienced in millennia. They had to be checked before the instability grew even worse.
And Nisu’s extra vigilance had proven necessary. The surveillance revealed that the escort Aluu Ne-Kewii and several others were meeting regularly with certain suspicious persons within the Web as well as with Spock, Scott, and Bailey. Those three Starfleet officers were occasionally seen meeting directly with the suspicious individuals as well—and in time, it became clear that one of those individuals was the long-absent Commander Balok, whose secretive return to Cherela seemed to confirm Triumvir Tirak’s long-standing suspicions of Balok’s dissident sympathies.
All of these persons of interest were seen traveling to evenly spaced locations all over the Web, often carrying unknown equipment that was no longer with them upon their return. Nisu knew that the dissidents advocated the shutdown of the Web’s concealment protocols. She knew that it would require coordinated action across the entire Web at once. Until now, the experts had assured her it was a logistical impossibility. But that had been before the wild variable named Spock.
She was there waiting for him the next time Spock and Balok attempted to plant a device in an isolated area near one of the local control centers that regulated the Web’s equilibrium. She had her most trusted protectors with her, and the two saboteurs promptly found themselves surrounded. Her tech expert quickly
confirmed that the device was some kind of remote computer override programmed to shut down the Web’s regulation of Cherela’s atmosphere. “I knew you were an iconoclast, Commander,” she said to Balok. “But I did not expect you would go to these lengths.”
“Of course not,” Balok replied with a defiant grin. “Most people expect only shortness from Linnik, not length.”
“This is not a matter for your jokes!”
“The joke, my dear Nisu, is your own belief that you are the one protecting the Web. None of my jests can rival the absurdity of that.”
“You have always been defiant, willful. You truly expect me to accept you as a champion of the First?”
“Oh, I assure you, my interests are entirely selfish. If we lost the orchards of the Renetran module, why, there would be no more tranya to drink! I ask you, what would be the point of going on in a universe like that?”
Tiring of Balok’s irreverence, Nisu turned to Spock. “It is you who truly disappoint me,” she said. “Do you have any idea of the danger of attempting to override the Web’s control grid?”
“I do,” the Vulcan replied with that insufferable surface calm, which she could tell was just as much a lie as ever. “But that danger can be managed, while the greater danger of failing to act cannot.”
“And you would be so reckless, so arrogant, as to endanger entire worlds based on your own belief?” Nisu shook her head. “I thought you of all people would know better, Spock. You who seek only knowledge and understanding, not authority.”
He met her eyes, and there was urgency in his. “I do not act from belief, Nisu, nor from pride. It is my conclusion as a scientist, based on logical analysis and deduction, that this is the only way to save the Web of Worlds. It is the beliefs and fears of those you follow that endanger it. I implore you not to let their arrogance and self-interest blind you to necessity.”
The most painful part was that he sincerely believed what he said. There was no point in arguing further. “Spock of Vulcan, Commander Balok, I arrest you for the crime of attempted sabotage against the Web of Worlds.” Once she bound their hands and advised them of their legal rights, she turned Spock back around to face her. “I had hoped you would make the Web your lifelong home, Spock, but not in this way. At least you will be reunited with your captain.”
Spock didn’t flinch under her gaze, which was surprising. Though she wasn’t intentionally exerting the full pressure of a Kisaja’s gaze, her anger was such that it would be difficult for anyone to bear looking into her eyes right now. But Spock was not transfixed or even visibly affected. His willpower must have been remarkable. “Your actions, Nisu, may have just ensured that all of us will spend the duration of our lives here,” he said. “But none of those lives will be very long.”
Balok sighed. “But on the bright side, they don’t serve tranya in prison. So at least it will feel long.”
* * *
The sight of Spock’s face cheered Jim Kirk enormously. But his spirits fell again when he saw that Spock was attired in the same drab prison jumpsuit as himself and Koust. “I take it this isn’t a rescue,” he said as the guards escorted Spock into Kirk’s cell.
“No, I’m afraid not,” Spock replied as the wall was resealed behind him. “Are you well, Jim?”
Kirk replied with a sardonic twist to his lips. “I am, but it’s despite the best efforts of Triumvir Tirak. He and the warden attempted to arrange a little accident involving my neighbor here. Oh, Spock, this is Koust, fourth-tier warrior of the Dassik. Koust, Commander Spock of Vulcan, my first officer and science officer.”
Koust merely gave Spock an appraising look. The Vulcan reciprocated, though with a touch of puzzlement. “I see. Then does this mean the Dassik are aware of the Web?”
“Alas, not yet,” Koust replied. “The cowards seized me before I could report back.”
Kirk stared at his Vulcan friend. “I thought you’d be more surprised to find me on good terms with one of the Dassik.”
“You do seem to have a knack for finding common ground with initially hostile individuals, Captain. I am more concerned at the news of the attempt on your life. Are you in continued danger?”
“Not from that,” Kirk said. “The incident has brought increased scrutiny from Nisu’s people. Assuming she’s not also in Tirak’s pocket . . .”
“I am confident in Nisu’s integrity. She is misguided in some respects, but fundamentally honest.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Kirk looked around at their environs. “Frankly, I’m more concerned about the way this place keeps rumbling and swaying. Assuming that’s not just something they do to alarm the prisoners.”
“No, Jim. The instabilities in the Web are worsening.” He went on to explain how the Web’s own methods of concealment were endangering its survival. “The simulations show conclusively that Fiilestii’s antigravs would have become just as unstable even without the Enterprise’s intervention. Indeed, had we not been there, more lives may have been lost.”
The words lifted a weight from Kirk’s heart. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear that, Spock. Thank you.”
The science officer went on to describe the measures he had attempted to correct the instability and how that attempt had led to his and Balok’s arrest. “I expect Commander Scott and the dissidents to continue their efforts to implement the plan, but they will be under increased scrutiny. Much of the populace of the Web has been gripped by an irrational fear of outsiders in the wake of recent events—a fear that has only been exacerbated by Triumvir Tirak’s rhetoric.”
“Yes, I’ve been made painfully aware of that.” He threw a wry glance at Koust.
Spock followed his gaze. “I find it interesting that the triumvirs have not seen fit to inform the public that they have a Dassik prisoner,” he said. “Their ability to overcome and contain one of the enemy—if you will pardon my characterization, Mister Koust—might serve as a symbol to placate their fears.”
“I’m not sure placating their fears is what Tirak wants, Spock,” the captain replied. “He seems more interested in pandering to them.”
Koust stepped closer to the barrier. “And they would not wish their people to know of me so long as I remain alive. They fear I would expose the truth about the Linnik . . . and the crime they committed against my race.”
* * *
Tirak stood in front of Balok’s cell with his arms crossed, a smug grin on his face as he appraised the current state of the Fesarius’s captain. “So, Balok. All your rhetoric about opening our society . . . tearing down the walls in which we imprisoned ourselves . . . and this is where you end up. I would think you of all people would appreciate the humor.”
“If you think this is the ending, Tirak, then you are laughable indeed,” Balok replied. “You can’t make the dangers to the Web go away by silencing those who acknowledge them.”
“The dangers to the Web are the very outsiders you insisted on drawing here!” the triumvir shouted. “You brought the human starship here intentionally, and I have no doubt you led the Dassik here when they pursued you.” Tirak leaned closer, narrowing his eyes. “Or was that just as intentional? Did you lead them here in hopes of exposing the secret? Discrediting the Council?”
Now Balok did laugh. The incongruity of the triumvir’s priorities was so startling that he couldn’t help it. It would be pointless, the Fesarius captain supposed, to explain that the Dassik had already been in Cherela’s orbit when he reached the system, or to describe the exceptionally clever ploy he had used to slip past them. He would save that tale for a more receptive audience, ideally over a bowl of tranya—assuming he ever got the opportunity.
Unsurprisingly, though, Tirak misunderstood his reaction. “Don’t deny it, Balok! I know you broke into the Council’s secure files. You know how we defeated the Dassik.”
“Yes, I did.” This was a feat he was happy to
boast about. “When we first learned of the Dassik’s return, I needed to understand what the Fesarius would be facing. And I had my suspicions deriving from hints in the ancient lore, the myths we were told as children. Really, it was an elegant solution. I don’t see why you’re so afraid to let it be known what our ancestors did.”
“How can you not recognize the danger? If the other races knew that we were siblings to the Dassik . . . that we differ from them only through neoteny . . . they would fear what we have the potential to become.”
“Or are you more concerned that they’d fear us for what we were willing to inflict on an entire species for the sake of our own survival? We were quite the scourge even without towering bodies and sharp claws.”
“Either way, they would mistrust us. They would turn on us.”
Balok shook his head sadly. “Really? After twelve thousand years of peaceful cooperation and trust, you believe our fellow Firsts would reject us so easily?” He sighed. “I am sad for you, Tirak. All you know is fear, and so you assume that is all others are capable of.”
“And you and your dissident friends do not promote fear? Spreading lies about how the Web is doomed to destruction? Fomenting panic to undermine the state?”
“The danger we point out is within ourselves, a fault in our own practices. And that gives us the power to do something about it, something more effective than just hiding from it. But you’re so afraid of admitting your own policies are the problem that you’d rather risk the destruction of the Web. Fear is what dooms us—our fear of being seen, our insistence on staying hidden from the galaxy even though the need passed a hundred centuries ago. But rather than overcome that fear and take a chance on joining the rest of the galaxy, you’d rather intensify it—stir up even more fear and paranoia to distract from the real problem.”
The Face of the Unknown Page 19
