The Antares Maelstrom

by Greg Cox

“What a shame,” Sulu quipped. He could readily imagine the panic on Tigris’s bridge right now as their viewscreens went blank along with their navigational readouts. He hoped Captain Dryyde was ready to see reason, now that he couldn’t see anything else.

  “Sulu to Tigris. Do you require assistance?”

  Static garbled the reply, suggesting that the phaser attack had damaged Tigris’s communications equipment as well. “Blast you, Starfleet! This was none of your business!”

  “Your shields collapsed after only a few sustained blasts from our phaser,” Sulu pointed out. “How long did you think they were going to survive the Maelstrom?”

  “The Passage,” Dryyde insisted, perhaps a bit defensively. “We’re still on course for the Passage. We just need to stay on track and we’ll be fine . . .”

  “Seriously?” Sulu couldn’t believe how stubbornly irresponsible the man was. “You were willing to stake your ship on flimsy, substandard shields and a tall tale about a mythical safe passage!”

  “It’s not a myth!” Dryyde ranted. “My passengers paid good money for the coordinates. They swear they’re legit!”

  Sulu rolled his eyes. Dryyde was irresponsible and gullible, it seemed, and Sulu, frankly, was tired of dealing with him. I’m missing my dinner date with Helena for this?

  “Ensign Knox, hit them with a reverse tractor beam. Just enough to spin them around a bit.”

  “Will do.”

  Switching to the tractor controls, Knox did as instructed. A rippling amber force beam slammed into the unshielded freighter, causing it to tumble end over end. Sulu got dizzy just looking for it; he hoped, for its passengers’ sake, that Tigris’s artificial gravity was still working properly, otherwise they were likely to be experiencing some serious space-sickness.

  “Stick to your previously plotted course,” Sulu challenged Dryyde. “You don’t even know which way you’re going anymore. Shut down your engines and let us tow you back to the station . . . unless you’d prefer to fly blindly without any sense of direction. Space is a big place, Captain. Pretty sure your passengers aren’t paying to get lost between the stars.”

  A long pause preceded Dryyde’s reply. “You win, Starfleet. But you’ll be hearing from the Karisian Shipping Authority. You had no right—!”

  Sulu cut him off. He glanced at Knox. “Tigris?”

  “Powering down, sir.” She beamed in triumph. “You did it, Lieutenant. Saved all those people, whether they liked it or not.”

  “We did it, Ensign. I’ll be requesting a commendation for you.”

  Unlike Knox, he couldn’t bask in their victory without worrying about future crises. Tilton’s warning buoy was clearly not enough to discourage folks from braving the Maelstrom, especially with rumors of a safe passage circulating. They had managed to intercept Tigris before it entered the Maelstrom, but next time they might not be so lucky.

  We’re going to have to patrol the border full-time, he realized. There was no way to truly block the route to the Maelstrom in three-dimensional space, short of employing a fleet of ships or an entire field of automated mines, but keeping Allegra on patrol between the station and the Maelstrom would prevent any future ships from getting a head start like Tigris had. Deploying the ship would leave the station a ship short, but Sulu didn’t see any way around it if they wanted to avoid another near disaster like this one. Now I just need to talk Tilton into it.

  “Locked onto Tigris,” Knox reported.

  “Music to my ears, Ensign. Let’s head back to port.”

  Six

  Baldur III

  “Oh my gracious, talk about a stunning view.”

  Margery Poho gazed at her planet from the bridge of Enterprise. Kirk had invited her to visit the ship after their meeting in Jackpot City. Her advisors had declined the invitation, with Navvan citing a previous obligation and Cahill, somewhat huffily, insisting that he preferred to stay put on Baldur III, thank you very much. This suited Kirk, who hoped to have a private discussion with the mayor, away from her fractious subordinates, while returning her hospitality.

  “Would you believe,” she said, “that I’ve never actually set foot off-planet before?”

  “Better late than never.”

  Kirk enjoyed sharing the moment with her and McCoy. He had orbited so many planets, visited so many far-flung worlds, that it had almost become routine. It was refreshing to be reminded, once in a while, just how astounding it was to be able to admire an entire world from the heavens. He let her savor the view before introducing her to Spock, who rose from the captain’s chair to confer with them.

  “I trust your visit to the surface was fruitful, Captain.”

  “It was informative,” Kirk said. “We’ve got our work cut out for us, but I’m certain our crew, working in conjunction with Mayor Poho and her people, are up to the task. How goes it up here? Any more problems with impatient new arrivals?”

  “None worth troubling you about,” Spock replied. “Congestion and delays remain an issue, to the frustration of all concerned, but the various captains and passengers are, for the most part, not letting their emotions get the better of them. I confess I am uncertain whether to attribute such restraint to the lingering effect of your own actions earlier, or to acknowledge that even non-Vulcans can behave logically. It is almost enough to give one hope for humanity.”

  “That’s the spirit, Spock,” McCoy chimed in. “We’ll make an optimist of you yet.”

  “I am neither an optimist nor a pessimist, Doctor, merely a scientist. I take the universe as it is and do not attempt to impose my own attitudes on it.”

  “Speaking as a politician,” Poho said, “there’s something to be said for that approach. In my experience, you can’t effect real change unless you face reality head-on. Mind you, I also have to take my fellow citizens’ attitudes into account.”

  “In any event,” Kirk said, “I’m glad to hear that nothing too interesting happened in my absence.”

  “Actually, Captain,” Spock said, “there is a matter you should be aware of . . . and perhaps the mayor as well. It is not immediate, but it is important.”

  Kirk instantly went on alert. He knew Spock well enough to understand that whatever the Vulcan was referring to was serious.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Spock surveyed the bridge. “It might be best to discuss this in the briefing room.”

  “It’s that delicate?” Kirk asked.

  “Not necessarily, but it requires some explanation. I merely suggest that the briefing room might be a more conducive environment in which to conduct the discussion.”

  “I’ll take your word for it, Mister Spock.” Kirk turned to Poho. “Well, Madam Mayor, it sounds as though the rest of your tour will have to wait.”

  “Lead on, Captain,” she replied. “I’m sure a starship conference room is much more fascinating than the earthbound variety.”

  McCoy cleared his throat. “Ahem.”

  “Feel free to join us, Doctor,” Kirk said, “unless you’re needed in sickbay?”

  “Already checked with Chapel. No immediate fires to put out.”

  “Very well, then.” Kirk walked over to use the intercom on his chair. “Captain to Mister Scott. Please report to the bridge.”

  He’d be dispatching Scotty down to the planet shortly, to grapple with Jackpot City’s power shortages, but in the meantime Scott could man the bridge while Kirk was getting briefed by Spock on whatever new issue had arisen.

  “I don’t suppose you can give us a hint, Mister Spock, as to what this is all about?”

  Hinting was not exactly the Vulcan way, but Spock attempted to oblige.

  “Are you familiar with a planet called Yurnos, Captain?”

  Poho certainly recognized the name. Her face fell immediately.

  “Oh, crap.”

  * * *

  A short turbolift ride brought them to the Enterprise’s main briefing room, where Spock elaborated on the topic at hand.

 
“Yurnos is a Class-M planet located only one solar system away from Baldur III. It is inhabited by a humanoid species that is still centuries away from developing space flight. The Federation has long been aware of their existence, but has been careful not to interfere in their development, per the Prime Directive.”

  “Our ancestors did the same,” Poho said. “History tells us they briefly considered settling on Yurnos, but chose to move on to the next system once they discovered the planet was inhabited. Baldur III had barely any animal life at all, let alone any sentient species, which made it much more attractive.”

  Kirk nodded. “Go on.”

  “Until recently,” Spock continued, “the Yurnians have been largely undisturbed, unaware of even the existence of Baldur III, let alone the existence of life beyond their planet. There are now indications, however, that their proximity to Baldur III might be threatening that isolation. To be more precise, there is apparently evidence that some of the newcomers flocking to Baldur III have been trading covertly with the nearby Yurnians.”

  “Nearby” being a relative term, Kirk realized. To the primitive Yurnians, Baldur III might as well be on the other side of the galaxy, but to a warp-cable vessel it was just down the road. Four or five light-years was either near or unimaginably far, depending on your technology.

  “And we know this how?” McCoy asked.

  “For some time, a team of trained Federation observers have been studying the Yurnians and their culture,” Spock explained, “dwelling undercover among them in order to avoid detection. They claim to have detected definite signs of extraplanetary cultural contamination by parties unknown. With the Enterprise already in the vicinity, they have requested our assistance in this matter.”

  McCoy lifted his eyebrows. “Popular these days, aren’t we?”

  “The crises are not unrelated, Doctor. All stem from the recent rush to Baldur III.”

  “True enough, Mister Spock,” Kirk said. “Nevertheless, our dance card is filling up.”

  “But there’s no pergium on Yurnos, is there?” McCoy asked. “So what could any gung-ho prospector be after there?”

  Poho sighed.

  “I think I know the answer to that. It’s called nabbia.”

  “Nabbia?” Kirk echoed. “What’s that?”

  “A leafy plant, Captain, native to Yurnos,” Spock said. “Its roots are commonly used to brew tea, I believe.”

  McCoy regarded Spock with amusement. “And you just know that off the top of your head?”

  “I was not idle while you and the captain were visiting Jackpot City, Doctor. Upon receiving word of the problems on Yurnos, I naturally reviewed all relevant Starfleet files on the planet.”

  “Naturally,” McCoy said.

  “But what’s so special about this plant,” Kirk asked, “that it’s worth violating the Prime Directive for?”

  “Besides the fact that it’s all but impossible to grow anywhere else?” Poho asked. “The tea that Mister Spock mentioned promotes oxygen absorption in the bloodstream, for reasons that Doctor McCoy could probably explain better than me. On Yurnos, the tea is just a mild intoxicant, but on Baldur III, it can help folks cope with the thin atmosphere.”

  “Like tri-ox,” McCoy said.

  “Which is pricey and hard to come by in these parts,” Poho said. “Nabbia tea is a viable alternative, particularly for newcomers. Makes hard labor easier for miners from offworld.”

  Kirk frowned at the mayor. “And you knew about this?”

  “I was aware that there was a black market for nabbia tea,” she admitted, “but, honestly, I’ve had bigger issues on my hands than folks indulging in a little herbal medicine. My ancestors relied on nabbia when they first settled here generations ago, and it’s always been possible to get your hands on some if you really want to.” She shrugged. “Not too surprising, I suppose, that the trade is ramping up as our population does.”

  “Despite the possible effect on the Yurnians?” Kirk asked.

  “Nobody is conquering or colonizing the planet,” she insisted, “or providing them with phasers or warp drives. No ships from other worlds are landing in plain sight of the Yurnians or offering them tours of the sector. We don’t encourage people to traffic in nabbia, exactly, but folks have always been discreet in their dealings with the Yurnians . . . at least until recently.”

  Kirk appreciated her honesty, if not her rather laissez-faire attitude toward the practice. He couldn’t help wondering if she had her own stash of bootleg tea tucked away in a cupboard somewhere. Or had her own family been settled on Baldur III long enough to acclimate to the thin atmosphere?

  “With all due respect, Mayor, I think you may be taking this too lightly. In my experience, even the most harmless contamination can sometimes have profound effects on a developing civilization.”

  Sigma Iotia II came immediately to mind. There were times, granted, when one had to bend the Prime Directive for the greater good, but ensuring a steady supply of invigorating tea did not strike Kirk as one of them. The potential risks far outweighed any minor rewards.

  “What about those Federation ‘observers,’ then?” Poho asked, a bit defensively. “Why aren’t you getting on your high horse about them?”

  “Trained observers,” Kirk stressed, “with a very different agenda. They’re experts in blending in with pre-warp civilizations without arousing suspicions, and their express mission is to observe without interfering. Somehow I doubt that your entrepreneurial tea smugglers place quite the same priority on protecting the Yurnians’ culture from outside influences, particularly if business is indeed booming these days.”

  Kirk had firsthand experience when it came to discreetly studying naïve civilizations from within, going back at least as far as his first planetary survey on Neural many years ago, so he knew just how tricky such operations could be. In the end, he reflected ruefully, not even the best of intentions had kept Tyree and his people untouched by the universe at large, to their lasting detriment. He didn’t like the idea of something similar happening to the Yurnians.

  “Precisely, Captain,” Spock agreed. “If the illicit tea trade is expanding in concert with the ‘gold rush’ on Baldur III, it is all the more imperative that we take action to prevent any further contamination on Yurnos, before its people’s future is irrevocably altered.”

  Poho scowled. “Just wait one minute, gentlemen. You’re here to help us out on Baldur III, not crack down on some minor smuggling operation on Yurnos, just because of some abstract principle of noninterference. We’ve got real problems down on the surface, Kirk, or have you forgotten that?”

  “The Prime Directive is more than just an abstraction,” Kirk argued, “even if it’s open to interpretation at times. I’m sorry, Mayor, but we can’t simply ignore this, no matter how pressing matters are on Baldur III right now.” He held up a hand to forestall any further objections from Poho. “We’re just going to have to manage both situations with the resources and personnel available to us.”

  Too bad they were already shorthanded with Sulu and his team on loan to the space station, over on the other side of the Maelstrom. Kirk didn’t have a whole lot of people to spare.

  “A suggestion, Captain,” Spock said. “Perhaps I might lead a small mission to investigate the situation on Yurnos, the extent of which remains to be determined, while you and the remainder of the crew address the known issues here on Baldur III, which, as the Mayor correctly observes, are both real and substantial.”

  “Makes sense,” Kirk said. “At this point, we don’t know enough about what’s happening on Yurnos to gauge what sort of actions might be required. A simple fact-finding mission is probably in order. But why you, Spock?”

  “I have already familiarized myself with the available data on the planet,” Spock reminded him. “Moreover, the Prime Directive issues are serious enough to warrant the deployment of a senior officer. Mister Scott’s talents are best applied to the challenges on Baldur III, and this is hardly a me
dical matter,” he added, glancing at McCoy. “Therefore, I am the logical candidate.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong,” McCoy said with a smirk, “but did you just conclude that you’re expendable?”

  “Not at all, Doctor. I am merely pointing out the most efficient division of labor.”

  Kirk couldn’t fault his reasoning. “How small a mission are you thinking about, Spock?”

  “The smaller the landing party, the less risk of exposure,” Spock said. “Perhaps only one other crew member, in addition to the Federation observers already on the planet.” That this was an unusually small complement for such an expedition did not appear to concern him. “If necessary, we can always request further personnel from the Enterprise, depending on what we discover on the planet.”

  Kirk wondered if Spock was also keeping his proposed team to a minimum in order to avoid leaving Kirk any more shorthanded than absolutely necessary.

  “Who do you have in mind?” he asked.

  “Ensign Chekov strikes me as suitable to the task,” Spock said. “Despite his youth, he has an inquisitive mind, has taken part in numerous landing parties, and copes well under pressure. I am also quite familiar with his strengths and weaknesses, eliminating a number of variables from the equation. Chekov is a known quantity.”

  “High praise indeed,” McCoy quipped. “Coming from a Vulcan, that is.”

  “Applied to a mere human, Doctor, that is high praise.”

  Kirk approved of Spock’s suggestion. He needed Scotty and McCoy and Uhura here on the Enterprise, as well as below on Baldur III, but he could spare Chekov. And he felt better about sending Spock off to Yurnos with the stalwart young Russian to watch his back—and vice versa.

  “You convinced me, Spock. Brief Chekov on the mission and take a shuttle to Yurnos at your earliest convenience.”

  “Yes, Captain. Before I go, however, I have a favor to ask of the mayor.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “And what is that, Mister Spock?”

  “Would it be possible to obtain a sample of the nabbia sold on Baldur III? Possibly from your law-enforcement agency?”