The Abode of Life

by Lee Correy

  "Scotty, just do the best you can … but maintain only enough shielding to keep us from being fried."

  "It would help, Captain, if we could get nearly all the crew as far from the outer hull as possible," the Engineering Officer suggested. "Mass decreases the lethality of Berthold Rays. . . ."

  "Thanks, Scotty, we'll work on that one." He switched off and directed his next question to his helmsman and Security Officer. "Mister Sulu, are you prepared to activate the maximum-radiation security procedure?"

  "The 'storm-cellar' program? Yes, sir. But packing four hundred people into a space usually occupied by about fifty gets a little too cozy if we have to stay in there for more than twenty-four hours, sir. Sanitation gets to be a problem, too. . . ."

  "It may be discomfort or death, Mister Sulu," Kirk reminded him.

  "Yes, sir, I know that. We'll have to evacuate the Bridge for the maximum protection, Captain."

  "I'm aware of that, Mister Sulu. What's the problem, since you were concerned enough to bring it to my attention?"

  "We're getting a lot of stellar-proton and charged-particle flux, as well as electromagnetic radiation and hyper-Berthold Rays, sir. I'm having to ride herd manually every minute on all our automatic systems. One stellar proton through the shielding and through one of the picocircuits in the autopilot … and we could be into the atmosphere below in less than one orbit."

  "So you're telling me that somebody's got to stay up here and monitor the automatic systems in the face of this extreme stellar storm, is that correct?"

  "Yes, sir. And I'll stay."

  Kirk thought about this for a moment. "No, Mister Sulu. 'Sacrifice' is not a word that's used in any of the Star Fleet Regulations … and it's not in my vocabulary, either. If it gets that bad, we won't stay here. Mister Chekov, plot a stand-by course of least-energy that will take us far enough from this blustering star for our shields to protect us."

  "Aye, sir. I, too, would rather be alive and short on power than to just sit here and boil like a samovar," the navigator replied with a wry smile, then got down to work on plotting the course.

  "Captain, I have numbers for your consideration now," Spock announced from the hooded viewer. "If we place two proton torpedoes into the core of Mercaniad precisely twenty-three-point-one minutes from now, there is one chance in five-point-three that the star will stabilize or damp its flare-up. The alternative is not an ordinary nova, sir, but a supernova beginning with a core collapse, progressing to a chromosphere and photosphere blow-away, and culminating with a total collapse into a neutron star that worsens into a black hole."

  "Recommendations, Spock?"

  "With those odds, Captain, I would prefer to defer any recommendations."

  "No sporting blood, Mister Spock?" Sulu asked rhetorically.

  "Mister Sulu, Vulcans do not gamble," Spock reminded him.

  "But I have to," Kirk pointed out. "I don't like the odds, but I can't get better ones. If we go, we'll go in a blaze of glory. Otherwise, we've got a reasonable chance of making it." Kirk paused a moment. He knew that there were other factors involved, including an entire planet and its population of millions of humanoids with a unique and advanced civilization. They would survive the Ordeal in the safety of their suboceanic Keeps as they had done for uncounted generations. But the USS Enterprise and 430 people aboard her, accompanied by a small contingent of Mercans, would not survive. There was no time for a detailed analysis, nor time for any agonizing appraisal. The decision had to be made … and it had to be made now.

  The situation facing James T. Kirk, star-ship Captain, Star Fleet, United Federation of Planets, was but one reason why there are so few citizens of the Federation who manage to ascend to the heights of Starship Command.

  "Mister Sulu, arm and prepare to launch two photon torpedoes. Get fuze settings and course coordinates from Mister Spock. Execute immediately."

  "Aye, sir."

  "Data is on the weapon control bus," Spock announced.

  "Launch when ready," Kirk said quietly, well aware of what he'd just said. He was doing more than merely tinkering with the workings of a star; that could be far less explosive in the long run than the tinkering he was doing with a humanoid civilization, a tinkering he could no longer avoid.

  "Data is loaded. On-board guidance read-back checks. Internal power." Sulu manipulated switches. "Fire One. . . . One away. Fire Two. . . . Two away."

  The unmistakable sound of the launching of two photon torpedoes rang through the Bridge.

  "Cross your fingers," Chekov muttered.

  "Don't let Spock see you do it," Sulu said to him sotto voce.

  "Uhura," Kirk said, turning his seat to face his Communications Officer. "Full library computer data dump into at least three courier drones and get them on their way toward the Orion Arm as rapidly as feasible. If this star goes supernova, I want some record of what we did running ahead of that shock wave so that a Federation ship may intercept it someday."

  "Yes, sir. Shall I continue transmission of routine distress signals on all subspace channels?"

  "By all means. Somebody may pick them up," Kirk remarked. "If Star Fleet Command doesn't know we're in trouble out here, they'll start wondering where we are eventually. They're going to ask questions about what happened to the Enterprise, and if they happen to detect a supernova out here, they'll come looking … if they don't already have something coming at Warp Factor Eight anyway. . . ."

  "Courier drones have been launched, Captain."

  "Thank you, Lieutenant. Spock, the situation on the torpedoes, please."

  "Sensors are tracking both. They are both on course. Impact simultaneously at both stellar poles in … four-point-three minutes … and detonations will be nearly simultaneous with their entry at Warp Factor Two."

  Kirk noticed Thallan and Othol standing beside Spock now, both looking a bit bewildered. "Thallan, do you understand what we've just done?"

  "Barely, James Kirk," the elder Technic replied. "Your Translator devices do not precisely convert the meanings of some words because they do not exist in our language. But I can manage to follow most of it. My biggest problem—and I'm certain Othol shares it—is the fact that I'm having some difficulty in adjusting my concepts of the Universe to fit in with what I'm seeing and hearing."

  "Three-point-five minutes," Spock announced.

  "We've launched devices toward Mercaniad that will penetrate the interior," Kirk attempted to explain. "Once inside, they will release a great deal of energy of a specific kind. If we've done it properly, if the computer is right, if all the data you've given us is correct, and if we have a considerable amount of luck—which is a word that doesn't translate for you, I know—the Ordeal will stop and Mercaniad will settle down into a stable condition hereafter. No more Ordeals. On the other hand, if everything that all of us know turns out to be wrong … or if we didn't do everything precisely right, Mercaniad will explode."

  Thallan was silent for a moment. Then he asked, "If Mercaniad explodes, what will happen to the Abode?"

  Kirk said nothing, just shook his head.

  "You took that chance, a chance that you would destroy a whole planet, a whole people, a whole culture?" Othol wanted to know.

  "I had no alternative. If your Guardians had cooperated, we might have worked out some arrangement that could have eliminated all of this," Kirk observed.

  "Why did you come to Mercan in the first place?" Othol asked, suddenly angry. "We were developing whole new ways to live together. In three generations, we would have changed all of the Abode! Why did you interfere?"

  "In three generations, you would have discovered what we already know," Spock added, "and you would be trying this yourself. As a matter of fact, your assistance to me has taught me that you already have all of the basic data to try it. You would have found some factor that would drive you to it."

  "But you signed the death warrant on a whole planet without even asking us about it!" Othol persisted.

  "Othol,
that 'death warrant' includes everyone on this ship as well. I had no recourse but to make that decision. We didn't come here deliberately. We tried to interact with you in such a way that it would offer the least impact upon your way of life. But the powers-that-be on Mercan had closed minds. I'm sorry. Anyway, the chances are in favor of the action working," Kirk said. Inwardly, he didn't like it any better than Othol did. "Sometimes you don't have the luxury of time enough to do things your own way. Circumstances usually force your hand and change things, whether you want them to change right then or not."

  "One minute," Spock announced.

  "Sulu, give us the view of Mercaniad on the main screen," Kirk ordered.

  Mercaniad was just rising over the limb of Mercan, the Abode of Life. As it came into full view, the disk of the star could be seen to be pulsating, sending out long streamers of filamentary prominence material. Its surface was mottled with sunspots. Invisible on the screen was the stream of charged particles which made up a greatly increased stellar wind. Without the shielding of the Enterprise, the human and humanoid life aboard her would have been blown out like the flame of a candle in a wind.

  "Thirty seconds. Torpedoes on course. Sensors will lose them in ten seconds as they begin to enter the corona."

  "I'm not certain that I like the idea of having a front-row seat for a possible supernova," Chekov muttered.

  "Fifteen seconds. Do you intend to warn the crew, Captain?"

  "Negative, Mister Spock. If it goes supernova, those of us right here will have only about two seconds to realize what's happened. We're all disciplined enough to expect the end at any moment among the stars. . . ."

  "Zero. Torpedoes have penetrated Mercaniad," Spock announced.

  The attention of everyone on the Bridge was riveted on the forward viewscreen, except for Spock, who had his face buried in the hooded viewer of the library computer console. Except for the throbbing of the internal systems of the star ship Enterprise, there was no sound on the Bridge.

  There was no change in the visual appearance of the star on the viewscreen.

  Kirk whirled in his seat and swarmed up to Spock's console. "Any change, Spock?"

  Spock did not remove his face from the viewing hood. "Negative, Captain. The torpedoes released such a small amount of energy compared to that of a star that we'll not see any change for at least nine minutes. Even a Class G star is a very large mass and cannot change immediately … unless it goes supernova … which it has not done … and which it is not going to do after all, because it would have blown away its photosphere by this time."

  There was a large sigh of relief that emanated from Ensign Chekov, but Sulu remained impassive as usual. Uhura, who was a bit more emotional, merely dropped her face into her hands as she closed her eyes.

  Kirk slapped the Vulcan on the shoulder in obvious elation and relief. "You did it, Spock!"

  Only at that point did the Vulcan remove his face from the viewing hood and querulously raise one eyebrow. "Sir, was there some doubt? The numbers were right. They had to be right. Mathematics is a logical science, Captain, and the logic of our calculations was indisputable. The probabilities were in favor of this outcome. I really do not understand this display of emotion, sir."

  Kirk shook his head. "Spock, you're probably the first individual to tamper with a star knowing full well that it could blow us all away … and you managed to do it. I'll certainly see to it that this accomplishment of yours is properly entered in your record, along with a suitable commendation for cool-headed logic. . . ."

  "Captain, how is it possible to thank logic?"

  Kirk—and the rest of the crew of the Enterprise on the Bridge—couldn't suppress laughter, which was not directed at Spock's reply so much as it was a release of the incredible tension of the past few minutes.

  It didn't take long after that to see that something was indeed happening to Mercaniad on the viewscreen. Spock switched spectral response to look at the star in both the ultraviolet and the X-ray wavelengths, then had a look at the stellar wind components and the stellar magnetic and gravitic fields. They were changing. It was patently obvious that Mercaniad was no longer pulsing, no longer shooting forth the stellar fireworks of prominences, and no longer increasing its output by spurts of activity, each greater than the last. It was settling down, pulsing occasionally, quieting slowly.

  "Bridge, this is Engineering," Scotty's voice broke through the quiet activity of the control center. "Captain Kirk, the radiation level's dropping rapidly and the hyper-Berthold Rays now have a decreased intensity. If this keeps up, our screens are going to hold with no increase in power required to maintain protection. Don't tell me that Spock was wrong about Mercaniad?"

  "Not at all, Scotty. As a matter of fact, Spock is now the only Star Fleet Science Officer who's managed to tickle a star and get away with it," Kirk replied with a smile.

  "Did the photon torpedoes do the job?"

  "They did indeed, Scotty. You can stand down from shield-monitoring alert now. Spock has probably got that errant star quieted down to a well-behaved Class G type."

  "Orun says that's not possible," the engineer came back. "No Ordeal has been this short in duration."

  "Tell him that things have changed, Scotty."

  Captain's Log: Stardate 5077.5

  Let the record show that it was the concept as well as the actions of Commander Spock, First Officer and Science Officer, to attempt to stabilize the irregular variable Class G star called Mercaniad by a triggering input of energy from two photon torpedoes. The chances of success were marginal, and the operation proceeded with my full authorization and with my full awareness of all of the possibilities, including those associated with the success of the venture. The able assistance and willful cooperation of three humanoid inhabitants of Mercan and members of their Technic group—Thallan, Othol, and Orun—were vital in the execution of this activity because they provided much of the long-term data on Mercaniad that was unavailable to Spock and the library computer. The behavior of Mercaniad during its flare-ups, locally termed the Ordeal by the Mercans, was also important data that was provided by the three Mercan experts.

  Although the activity was conceived and carried through by Spock, it was done with my full authority, and I accept full responsibility for whatever the consequences may be.

  A continuous watch on Mercaniad since the detonation of the photon torpedoes in its core has revealed that Spock's initial conclusions were correct. The star is rapidly stabilizing into what appears to be a regular Class G0 star with all the characteristics of stable Class G stars throughout our sector of the Galaxy. The output of hyper-Berthold Rays has diminished to practically zero; complete data on this heretofore unreported phenomenon is stored in the library computer for later analysis and interpretation by Federation stellar specialists.

  However, this stabilization of Mercaniad will undoubtedly result in the destabilization of its humanoid civilization. We have willfully destroyed an irregular astronomical occurrence upon which the stability of their culture was based. Under the circumstances, I had no alternative or option available to me that would have permitted me to save the Enterprise and her crew from certain destruction. Therefore, I took the responsibility upon myself to openly and willfully violate the Prime Directive and General Order Number One, realizing in advance that any stabilization of this star would alter the culture and life-style of the humanoid inhabitants of Mercan beyond any possibility of restitution.

  My course of action in the immediate future is not apparent to me at this time. I have aboard the Enterprise leaders of two of the three political and social groups of the Mercan culture: Prime Proctor Lenos and Technic leader Thallan. It therefore appears to me that I must attempt to convene and moderate a meeting between the Guardians, the Proctorate, and the Technic in hopes of helping them create for themselves a stable new order on the planet in the total absence of the major lever possessed by the Guardians to maintain their position in the culture: the Mystery of th
e Ordeal, the Guardian ability to forecast with accuracy the flare-ups of Mercaniad.

  Mercaniad will no longer create the Ordeal because of our actions.

  Although I may have saved the Enterprise and her crew, I am forced to ask myself the question: for what have I saved her?

  The Mercan science and technology may certainly be up to the task of providing Lieutenant Commander Scott and the Engineering Division with the necessary support to repair the warp drive unit that's required to permit us to return to the Orion Arm and Federation Territory. But will the Mercans help us? Or will their energies instead have been diverted into a planet-wide civil war because of my actions and decisions?

  Chapter Eleven

  The door signal on Kirk's cabin sounded.

  "Come in," he called.

  The door slid open with a swish, revealing Spock's tall silhouette against the passageway lights. Kirk did not get up from where he lay stretched out on his back on his bunk.

  "I do not wish to disturb you, Captain."

  "Come in, Spock. You aren't disturbing me."

  The door slid shut behind the First Officer. "I have some data that needs to be brought to your attention, sir," Spock began. "Your intercom seems to be inoperative."

  "I needed a few hours of quiet. I've been thinking, Spock."

  The First Officer's right eyebrow went up.

  "Don't look so querulous, Spock. Even a star-ship captain needs a few moments of peace and quiet occasionally. And even a star-ship captain can engage in logical thinking. . . ."

  "I am well aware of the human need for occasional quiet contemplation. That is one trait shared by both humans and Vulcans," Spock told him. "The ship does not require your immediate attention in standard orbit while we're waiting for the Mercans to discover that the Ordeal is over. However, I did have two items for your consideration. One: Mercaniad is settling down into a stable Class G0 star as predicted and will attain stable status in approximately eight-point-three hours. It will then probably remain as a stable Class G0 star for nearly a billion years. . . ."