Star Trek - Log 5

  "No, no. I've a better idea, Cophot. I'll do it by hand, carry the device down with me when I go to meet Kirk. I want the satisfaction of handing him his precious medicine and then seeing his face when I tell him he and his entire crew are going to the Dark Place with us. Besides, do not underestimate the detection equipment of this class of Federation cruiser. It could detect an old shoe beamed down to the surface, not to mention your proposed exterminator package."

  "As you wish it, Elt," the science officer said admiringly. "I will commence work."

  "Be certain, Cophot, you do a worthy job. It is not everyday one has the privilege of composing the mechanics of one's own destruction."

  The first officer made a silent gesture of concurrence.

  "A call coming in from the Enterprise, Elt," the voice of the communications master broke in. The Orion commander turned his attention from his first officer back to the viewscreen.

  "What is your decision, Captain Kirk?"

  "I accept your terms."

  "Very well," the elt replied, keeping his tone carefully level. "We will provide suggested coordinates, or—" he performed the movements of indifference "—you may select them yourself. We will beam down in fifteen of your minutes."

  Kirk stared at the screen, noticed McCoy's glum expression.

  "What now, Bones?"

  "I still don't like it, Jim, but as you said, we haven't got any more time. Spock . . ." He shook his head slowly.

  The Orion commander spoke again, "Fifteen minutes or not at all, Captain Kirk."

  "Yes, yes," Kirk replied absently. "Agreed. Enterprise out."

  The screen blanked.

  It was a world of compact extinction, where one could see the work of oblivion in small doses, and comprehend.

  True, it possessed a breathable atmosphere, a thin gaseous envelope through which jagged mountains rose against a deep purple curtain. Nothing crawled over its pockmarked surface. Nothing flew through its sad sky.

  It was not an embryonic world, awaiting only the right combination of heat and water to give birth. Rather it was a king among cinders, a shard of some long gone larger globe which in itself had never seen life.

  But now life appeared on its surface, in the form of two electrically hued pillars. There was nothing to observe this visitation save the constituents of the pillars themselves. The two commanders rematerialized barely a couple of meters apart.

  Immediately the Orion captain noticed the tricorder Kirk held in one hand, while Kirk's gaze went first to the overlarge backpack slung over the Orion's shoulders.

  Consideration of its purpose and contents were forgotten as his eyes were drawn down to the plastic cylinder the other held. It was filled with tiny cylinders, and they in turn were filled with the fluid that could give life to the dying Spock.

  Most of the printing on the cylinder's label was too small to read at the distance he stood from it, but the name STROBOLIN stood out clearly above the archaic red-cross symbol. So that there would be no doubt, the Orion took several steps closer and held the container out to him for a better look.

  "As promised, Captain, your serum. Scan it if you wish." He gestured at the tricorder.

  McCoy had preset the sensors himself. Kirk pointed it at the translucent cylinder, pressed a switch. If the contents of the container were something cleverly designed to simulate strobolin, they would have to be the work of a master chemist. McCoy had gone over the 'corder's programing a dozen times.

  The reading the intricate mechanism showed was clear, however. There wasn't a hint of molecular funny business. On the starship's bridge, everyone breathed a sigh of relief as the captain's voice sounded over the open communicator.

  "Pure strobolin, Bones." He rolled the container of dilithium over the smooth surface. It bumped to a halt against the Orion's legs.

  "My half of the bargain. Want to check it?"

  "No, Captain Kirk. I trust you."

  "Now you trust me." Kirk shrugged. "However you please, I'll take that now and then we can both beam up." He reached for the cylinder.

  The Orion commander skipped backwards a few steps.

  "No, Captain Kirk, I'm afraid I can't permit that. You see, no matter how I strive to convince myself, I can't believe that word of this incident will not ultimately reach your superiors. If that happens, my world will lose its neutrality and be subject to Federation retaliation."

  "Look," an exasperated Kirk began, "we've been through this already. If my solemn word is not good enough for you, you must know that you can't escape the Enterprise. We can follow you anywhere."

  "Only if you have something to follow, Captain, and something left to do the following in, and someone to do it."

  Kirk gaped at him and tried to unravel the riddle, not liking the way his thoughts were leading him.

  On the bridge, Arex heard, and muttered, "I've been getting some unusual sensor readings, Mr. Scott. That planetoid's putting out a lot of noise and all kinds of radiation. But this is different—it's localized around the captain and the alien."

  "What is it?"

  "I'm not sure—it's not around them," he said excitedly, "it's in with them. There's dilithium down there with them."

  "Of course," Scott noted. "The Captain took down with him, for the exchange, a—"

  "No, no!" The Edoan's voice rose to an abnormal shrillness as his voice-box tried to catch up with his thoughts. "This is different. It appears to be barely stabilized!"

  "You've been staring at my pack," the Orion commander was telling Kirk. "I don't wish to keep secrets. It's an explosive device. When triggered by me it will detonate the radioactive core of this planetoid. The resulting cataclysm will be considerable—quite sufficient to destroy your ship."

  "Yours too," Kirk countered. He wasn't familiar with Orion culture, true, but somehow he was sure the expression that slid over the commander's face was his equivalent of a snide smugness.

  "Why do you think my people have been able to maintain our operations for so long, so secretly and well, Captain Kirk? It is because all unsuccessful Orion missions end in suicide. When possible, we enjoy company."

  "Mr. Scott," Arex half pleaded for a decision, a command, a call to perform—something.

  "We can't warp out, because well lose the captain—and Mr. Spock," Scott thought out loud. He couldn't beam the Orion commander aboard because triggering the device on board would set off the dilithium in the ship's engines. The Orion commander . . .

  "The dilithium!" he shouted, battering at the intercom switch. "Transporter room—Scott here—dilithium crystals on the Orion commander, Kyle, pinpoint 'em and beam 'em up—fast!"

  "An interesting experience, is it not, Captain?" the Orion was musing, his hand hovering over a switch set into his belt. "Often I've wondered what instant dissolution would feel like. Is there time to feel pain, to sense the coming apart of one's body? An intriguing question."

  "Pinpointed, Mr. Scott," Kyle's voice resounded over the open speaker.

  "Do it!"

  Kyle shifted the proper instrumentation in rapid sequence, his eyes glued to one small dial.

  "Ah, well," the Orion commander finished, "it is one thing to philosophize, but another to experience. I have made my peace—let us have reality."

  He reached for his belt a second before Kirk leaped at him. Kirk grabbed both alien wrists—too late. The Orion's eyes clenched tight as he winced in anticipation, his finger breaking the trigger contact.

  Another second and he found himself flat on the ground. Eyes open again, he discovered to his horror he was still capable of discerning the stars overhead. They formed an irregular halo around the angry face of Kirk, staring down at him.

  Kirk was able to relax his grip some, still keeping the Orion pinned to the ground. The alien commander was in shock. He offered little resistance.

  "Reality, huh? I'll give you reality." He directed his words to the open communicator. "Scotty, energize."

  That brought the Orion awake and ki
cking. He struggled to reach his own communicator. Kirk jammed a knee into the region of the other man's solar plexus, put pressure on both wrists. The alien slumped, grimacing in pain.

  "I know it's not total dissolution," Kirk told him through clenched teeth, "but it's the best I can do—for now." He felt a twinge of vertigo, saw his vision start to fog. Soon the surface of the asteroid was bare of life once more.

  Kirk's first sight on coming out of transport was of two burly security guards who stood covering the alcove from opposite angles, phasers drawn and ready. Then he looked back, saw Engineer Scott enter the transporter room. Scott made no attempt to conceal his relief.

  The guards immediately took hold of the Orion and effectively immobolized him—though he was still too bewildered to offer much in the way of coherent resistance. While they checked him for weapons somewhat less lethal than planet-busters, Kirk was on his feet, rearranging his tunic and walking toward the waiting Scott.

  "Captain," Scott began, emotionally drained, "that was too close. So close that—"

  "Take your time, Mr. Scott, and think of something appropriate." He turned, approached the pinioned Orion and his guards. "I'll take that, Ensign," he said to one of the guards, taking the plasic container from his grip. "It's not a weapon."

  He moved rapidly to the intercom, the precious cylinder of strobolin ampules now safely in hand. "Kirk to bridge—"

  "Captain," Sulu's voice responded, "we heard—"

  "Later, Mr. Sulu. Right now I suggest moving us several diameters out in case they decide to try that little trick again."

  "Aye, sir!"

  "Kirk out." He clicked off, looked back to Scott. "Let's get up to the bridge." Then a glance backward as he addressed the security people. "Bring him along, too." The five men started for the elevator.

  "By the way, Scotty, where's the dilithium he packed?"

  "Stabilized and on its way to the engine storage chambers, Captain, where it will be put to better use."

  On board the Orion pirate, the battle on the bridge raged between confusion and desperation.

  "I tell you they're both gone, sir!" the communications officer reported.

  "Gone!" The science officer was incredulous.

  "I was scanning as ordered, Bhar, when they vanished from the planetoid's surface—both the Earther and the elt. There was no warning, and sensors detect nothing like an explosion."

  "If it didn't misfire," the exec thought furiously, "then they must have discovered the dilithium pack and disarmed it, somehow."

  "Bhar, the Enterprise is moving. They are leaving the potential radius of destruction."

  "Not only have they disarmed it, they know exactly what we intended. That also means that the elt has either been killed or captured." He hesitated. "We have one final choice. Contact engineering and tell them to arm the engines to self-destruct."

  "We are going to try and ram, Bhar?" the communications officer asked questioningly. The first officer was too depressed to frame his reply in contempt.

  Instead, he simply repeated what was already known. "They could lose us or destroy us on a whim. But if the elt has been killed, or performed Vyun-pa-shan, we still have a chance to preserve Orion's neutrality. To prove such a serious accusation they will need more proof than mere tapes can provide. We can at least deny them that."

  "Open hailing frequency, Lieutenant," Kirk ordered as he emerged onto the bridge. He took up his position at the command chair while Scott moved to engineering.

  The Orion captain was positioned behind the chair where he could see the screen clearly over Kirk—and where he would be in clear range of the screen pickup. Kirk started to sit, noticed a subtle movement out of the corner of his eye. The Orion was moving his arm and hand upward, toward his mouth.

  "Stop him."

  Both guards reacted instinctively. Each grabbed one of the alien's arms, forced them up and back.

  Kirk turned to eye the other closely. The Orion stared stonily at a point beyond Kirk's forehead.

  "What are you doing?"

  The Orion tried to sound bored. "My cheek itched, Captain. Does it startle you that I might try to scratch it? If you'll direct these idiots to let me go . . ."

  "In a minute," Kirk answered absently. He looked downward, then knelt to pick up a small dark capsule. It was unmarked. He waved it under the other's mouth.

  "Do I have to ask what this contains?"

  Silence again.

  "It is poison, isn't it?"

  Still no reply. Kirk sighed, resumed his seat and dropped the deadly capsule into the chair-arm disposal unit.

  "Commander," he said, carefully considering his words as he lectured the alien, "I'm sure your ship is preparing to destroy itself. Everything you've tried and said so far points to it as the logical course of action.

  "If it does, your entire crew will have died for nothing. Because we're not going to let you commit suicide. Whether they live or die, you'll still stand trial. I'm sure both Federation officials and the representatives of other governments will be very interested in the results of the mind scans. I suspect it won't take very many to put a permanent end to Orion's little game of neutral piracy.

  "Any reaction, Uhura?"

  "I've finally raised them, sir."

  Kirk nodded, peered back at his alien counterpart. The expression on that worthy's face was unreadable. Quite possibly it reflected similar emotions to those Kirk felt as he stared upward—hate, and respect.

  To some races death meant little. Kirk didn't think it applied to the Orions. This man had meticulously planned his own destruction for the good of his people. Regardless of racial motivation, the key ingredient was still guts. Kirk had to admire them for that.

  "They're acknowledging aural exchange only, Captain," Uhura reported.

  "That'll do for now, Lieutenant." He spoke into the pickup. "This is Captain Kirk spreaking to the acting commander of the Orion vessel. We hold your commanding officer prisoner." He glanced back at the man in question, then continued.

  "He is in excellent health and perfectly capable of communication—voluntary or otherwise. Rest assured he'll remain so." He stopped, spoke more softly to the silent figure behind him.

  "Your choice again, sir."

  The Orion captain made a resigned gesture with his head. Obviously he had already made up his mind. It confirmed Kirk's belief in the Orion's essential respect for life. He nodded to the security guards.

  Both men let the alien go, but continued to watch him closely. Kirk leaned to one side and allowed the other a clear shot at the pickup.

  "Bhar Cophot?"

  Instantly visual contact was established, and Kirk saw the uncertain face of the Orion ship's executive officer staring anxiously back at him.

  "Elt? Your orders?"

  "Disarm the self-destruct system." Kirk noticed he didn't bother to ask if it had been engaged. The exec looked reluctant. "And prepare for formal surrender."

  "Very well, Elt. Cophot out." The screen went dark—but not before the two aliens had exchanged a complex salute.

  Something else impressed Kirk. Despite ample evidence of intricate preparation for self-immolation, both mental and physical, the first officer of the Orion pirate hadn't objected to the surrender order, hadn't argued, hadn't protested.

  Having been presented with an unavoidable situation and having exhausted all preferable options, in the end they had elected to do that which would preserve life—much to Kirk's relief. There was hope for the Orions, it appeared.

  Their moral foundation was sound—only the edifice itself was rotten. Once a few reforms had been introduced into their presently one-sided view of interstellar economics, they might prove to be good friends.

  Kirk dictated the log entry as he strolled back toward Sick Bay. It was the kind of entry he enjoyed making.

  "Captain's log, stardate 5527.4. The Orion privateer crew is in protective custody and their ship in tow. The Enterprise is back on course for Deneb five. We—"
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  No . . . no. He ended the entry. There were a host of details he could have added—but to what end? This was one entry that had intruded on an already hectic routine mission. A good place for brevity.

  Their appearance at Deneb Five with an Orion vessel in tow would cause enough excitement. And Kirk had little use for fancy entrances. He much preferred a safe exit.

  But it would eventually be good for the ship (the ship, the ship—always the ship). The fact that solving an unknown number of disappearances might gain him a promotion never crossed his mind—merely that it might enable them to get a few requisitions filled rather more quickly than Starfleet's sluggish bureaucracy usually managed.

  The rewards of heroism, he mused as he turned a corner. Out of such odd things as the illness of one man do great things come.

  Orion neutrality would be shown to be as solid as a shoji. The Klingons and Romulans would lose a potentially mischievous ally. And an enormous quadrant of uncertainty on the Federation's fringe would now be opened as safe for shipping, enabling escort vessels and personnel to be shifted to other tasks.

  All because of a drug. He wondered how many times in the past the history of whole nations could have been altered by the presence of an aspirin at the right place and time.

  He heard the voices even before he entered Sick Bay. Glancing left as he entered, he saw Spock sitting up in bed and looking Vulcan for the first time since they had left Argo. Not atypically, he and the ship's chief medical officer were engaged in a raucous difference of opinion.

  "There's no way you can deny it, Spock!" McCoy was shouting.

  "I can deny it," Spock countered patiently, "by pointing out . . ."

  McCoy cut him off, rambled—or rather rumbled, on. Sometimes Kirk wondered if they ever argued in complete sentences.

  "I've waited a long time for this," McCoy was proclaiming loudly, as Kirk walked up to them, "and you're not going to cheat me out of it."

  "Out of what?" Kirk inquired politely. Both Spock and McCoy temporarily turned their attention to him.

  "Nothing, Captain. Dr. McCoy is endeavoring to gloat—a reprehensible condition characteristic of his unpredictable prehistoric leanings."