Star Trek - Log 7

  "Since phaser instrumentation requires considerably more time and effort, we are concentrating our efforts on repairing the warp-drive, with reasonable assurance that the Klingons are doing the same . . . or so Mr. Spock assures me, based on evidence of detectable activity on board the Imperial cruiser." He paused.

  "My only consolation in all of this," he finally concluded, "is the knowledge that Commander Kumara of the Klathas is probably more frustrated than I . . ."

  He finished the log entry and switched the recorder off, then took the moment of relative quiet to survey the bridge. Spock was engaged in some esoteric research of his own, his instruments set to alert him to any hint of unusual activity on board the Klingon ship. Sulu was replaying a game of trifence on an auxiliary monitor, his own telltales quiet. Uhura was half asleep at her console.

  Only Arex appeared alert and absorbed. Come to think of it, the navigator had remained attentive to something for several hours now.

  "What do you find so interesting, Mr. Arex?" Kirk asked.

  "Hmmm?" The delicate head with its jutting bony ridges turned, limpid eyes gazed back at Kirk. "I have been engrossed in the approach of an impossibility, Captain."

  Spock showed that he wasn't all that buried in research by turning to listen curiously. "Elucidate, Lieutenant."

  "I have been debating whether to do precisely that, sir," Arex replied. "I wished to be certain of my findings first. It grows more extraordinary as we near. Even so, because of the uncertain situation with regard to the enemy vessel, I have hesitated before mentioning it."

  "Before mentioning what, Mr. Arex?" wondered Kirk in puzzlement.

  "Captain, my instruments indicate that we are approaching an object of planetary mass. Furthermore—and this is most exciting—it appears to possess free water in oceanic quantities and a breathable atmosphere."

  Slowly the rest of the bridge began to stir from somnolence, began to utilize long-inactive instrumentation.

  "Spock, the charts for this area—"

  "Show it as an empty region, Captain. No stars, most certainly no planets." He bent to his gooseneck viewer, adjusted controls, made demands on exterior scanners and sensors. "Yet I must confirm Mr. Arex's observations." He looked up again, his eyes glowing with the fervor of a scientist who has just made a discovery as spectacular as it was unexpected.

  " 'Extraordinary' is an understatement, Captain. It is unique."

  "What's unique?" McCoy asked, strolling from the elevator. He had just concluded his tour of all the patients remaining in Sick Bay and satisfied himself as to their condition.

  Kirk's voice was hushed with wonder. "We're apparently going to encounter a habitable world, Bones."

  McCoy's gaze went to the viewscreen. It still showed only the Klathas, floating against a background of thinly sprinkled stars. And since the warp-drive was still out . . .

  "A world . . . where, Jim? If we're approaching a sun, the scanners seem to be ignoring it."

  "That's just it, Bones. There is no sun. We're going to meet a wanderer."

  McCoy was properly startled. "A wanderer? An inhabitable wanderer? I thought such a thing was impossible, Jim."

  "So did I, Bones. Any reasonable astronomer will tell you that the odds of encountering a planet which has broken free of its parent sun are . . . well, astronomical. I know of only two such encounters in Federation history, and both are well documented. This is a new discovery.

  "But the chances of finding a wandering world with a breathable atmosphere, and free water on the surface . . ."

  "Are beyond computation, Captain," Spock concurred. "I would not have believed it possible."

  "To spot a non-system object of less than solar mass in free space, Bones, a ship has to be traveling below warp-one, on impulse power or less. No one travels like that . . . unless they've had an accident. Even then, with such incredible odds . . . Bones, this discovery is nearly as important as freeing Delminnen from the Klingons."

  "I'm not sure Char Delminnen would agree with you, Jim," McCoy murmured softly.

  Days passed. The Enterprise and the Klathas, locked together in mutual impotence, drifted closer to the wanderer. It grew from a statistic in Arex's computer to a ball, then to a globe, and finally to a massive, real world with continents and oceans and clouds.

  Those clouds were the key to its habitability, for they were just thick enough to retain the heat the planet appeared to produce, yet not thick enough to produce a radical, suffocating greenhouse effect.

  "According to sensors, the wanderer is about the same size as Earth," Spock was reporting, studying his readouts, "though its gravity is slightly stronger. Both the Klathas and the Enterprise have already been drawn into orbit around it."

  "It's rich in heavy metals and radioactives, too," Kirk mused. "We already know it produces energy. At least we'll have the chance to inspect a unique spatial phenomenon at close range."

  "And be carried a little bit farther from the Klingon base at Shahkur Nine while we're inspecting," McCoy pointed out with satisfaction.

  "There's . . . there's something else, Captain," Spock reported. There was an odd note in the first officer's voice that made Kirk turn quickly.

  "What is it, Mr. Spock?"

  "Incredible as it may seem," he informed the bridge, his expression as close to stunned amazement as it was possible for it to be, "this wanderer appears to be not merely habitable, but inhabited."

  Spock's astonishment was instantly transmitted to everyone on the bridge.

  "Spock . . . you're certain?" Kirk finally managed to mumble.

  "I don't think there is any question of it, Captain. There is too much evidence for it to be denied, despite the uncertainty of high-resolution sensors. Roads, population density . . . all appear present, though in very limited fashion. It suggests a well-populated world, though a technologically impoverished one. Actual surface survey may reveal otherwise, of course."

  McCoy was staring at the brilliant, glistening cloud layer against which the Klathas was outlined. "What must they be like, Jim, a people who have developed never knowing a sun or a moon—never even knowing the stars? If Spock's assessment of their progress is correct, they can't possibly have telescopes capable of piercing their protective cloud layer."

  "I can't imagine a civilization maturing under these conditions, Bones. And yet"—Kirk gestured at the screen—"we're confronted with the actuality. What," he wondered, "should we call it?"

  "That's easy, Jim. There's only one name for it—Gypsy."

  For a change, Spock and the doctor were in perfect agreement.

  Detailed charting of the wanderer began, under the auspices of Spock's science staff. At no time did anyone forget that a battle for survival could erupt with the Klathas at any moment, but Kirk could see no reason why nonessential personnel should not take the opportunity to make a thorough study of the wanderer, at least until hostilities resumed. Undoubledly, the Klingons' science section was occupied by similar activities.

  "Final estimates show gravity as one point fourteen Earth normal, atmosphere point ninety-six Earth-Vulcan normal at the surface, temperature in the temperate zones varying between one hundred eighty and two hundred five degrees K."

  "Why would it vary?" McCoy asked. "There's no sun to warm any part of the globe more than another."

  "The atmosphere is slightly heavier at the planet's equator, thinner at its poles," Spock explained, "although nowhere as extreme climatically as on Earth. There are no ice caps, for example. Other than that," the first officer finished, "this world is a near duplicate of Earth or Vulcan."

  "What about light?" McCoy persisted. "How could any civilization develop in the total absence of light?"

  "I could make a case for several such civilizations, Doctor, but for this remarkable world it is unnecessary. The dense atmosphere contains an extremely high proportion of ionized gases and natural fluorescents, which are excited by the abundance of radioactives in the surface. If anything, these people
must be afflicted with perpetual illumination, and not darkness."

  "I see." McCoy nodded. "They live under the grand-daddy of all auroras."

  "As to what the inhabitants are like, Doctor," Spock continued, "there is evidence—evidence which can be confirmed only by on-surface inspection—that they are at least roughly humanoid in appearance and build. We've sent down a few drone probes for close-in study. Superficially, at least, the resemblance to the normal Vulcan-human pattern is astounding."

  "Absolutely no chance of their being advanced enough to help in repairing the Enterprise, or in countering the Klingons?" a hopeful Kirk queried.

  "I'm afraid not, Captain," Spock replied drily. "First impressions have only just been confirmed by the probes. There are no centers of population larger than a good-sized town. Settlement appears to be primarily rural, with even villages isolated and scattered. I would say they are in the process of emerging from a medieval era into one of primitive middle-class capitalism. I'd place their level of technology no higher than fifteenth-century Earth or fifth-epoch Vulcan."

  "Then we're not likely to encounter warp-drive technicians awaiting our call for assistance," Kirk observed. "Even so, the fact that they've achieved any kind of civilization at all—the very fact of their existence—is incredible. What a pity that we're too busy fighting the Klingons to remain to study them."

  Spock agreed sadly. "Most unfortunate, Captain. We can plot this world's position and a probable trajectory for it, but it will still be extremely difficult to locate again."

  "Excuse me, Captain." Kirk turned his attention to Uhura. "We're being beamed from the Klathas."

  "They've got their communications working again, then. Put it on the screen, Lieutenant."

  Surprisingly, Kirk found he felt no particular animosity toward the figure who appeared. There were signs of strain on the man's face: indications of fatigue induced by too much worry and too little sleep.

  Kirk wondered if he looked as bad.

  "Good day to you, James Kirk," Kumara began pleasantly. "I trust you are feeling well?"

  "I'm getting by, Kumara. Yourself?"

  The Klingon commander frowned, appeared petulant. "I've been rather restless lately, I'm afraid. For one thing, I am still rearranging my quarters. That little trick of yours in cutting your tractors and then reestablishing contact after we had changed our course drastically realigned that section of the Klathas."

  "Sorry to hear it," Kirk replied, in a tone which indicated he wasn't sorry at all. "I'll bet that's not the only thing that's had to be rearranged." For some reason, Kirk found this falsely jovial atmosphere quite irritating. Maybe it was the memory of the faces he had seen in Sick Bay these past days.

  "All right, Kumara, you didn't break battle silence for the first time in days to apprise me of the state of your bedroom. What do you want?"

  Kumara's outward demeanor wasn't shaken. He remained unruffled. "You are quite correct, Jim. You see, a new development has caused me to reconsider our position.

  "I have only just discovered that the man Delminnen is utterly incapable of building, designing, or instructing my technicians in how to duplicate his awesome device. It appears only his female sibling can do that."

  "You damned torturer!" McCoy exploded. "How did you pry that out of him, Kumara? I know the Klingons are noted for their inventiveness with—"

  Kumara waved him to silence. "Please, ah,"—he peered harder at his own screen—"Doctor, I believe. Am I a barbarian, to resort to the primitive physical intimidation of helpless prisoners? Besides, I would not risk losing forever the knowledge held in the human Delminnen's mind.

  "No, to be quite truthful, the human bragged about it all over the Klathas as soon as he became convinced his sibling was not on board. It was hardly necessary to pry anything out of him." The Klingon commander's expression twisted. "Needless to say, I viewed his revelation with considerable dismay."

  Kirk was growing impatient. "All this unnatural courtesy and politeness must be upsetting your liver, Kumara. Why did you beam me? What is it you want?"

  Kumara looked back at Kirk with exaggerated surprise. "Why, the same thing you do, Jim. An end to all this suspense and a final disposition of our . . . um . . . mutual interests."

  "We'll settle that as soon as my chief engineer informs me our drive is repaired—which should be any minute now."

  "Perhaps," Kumara admitted, smiling easily. "Then again, it may be some time yet before the damage to either of our ships is rectified. I have thought of another way."

  "Careful, Jim," McCoy whispered.

  "What other way, Kumara?"

  "I propose a contest."

  "A contest?" Kirk echoed warily. "What kind of contest?"

  "One that is simple and effective." Kumara leaned forward. "It should appeal to you, Jim."

  "Go on."

  "It's simple, really. You wish the man Delminnen returned to you. I need his sibling. Separately, they are useless to both of us."

  "I disagree," countered Kirk. "They're both still alive . . . something they probably wouldn't be if you had both of them for very long."

  "You question my morality, too, but never mind," Kumara continued. "Here is what I propose. I am sure you have been studying the extraordinary world below us intensively these past days. Each of us will assume the attire of the inhabitants. We will take one officer with us from our respective crews. You will also take the girl with you, while I shall bring the man.

  "We will take nothing but these clothes, our communicators, and some local means of exchange, and we will beam down to the planet. There are methods of insuring that each side descends with the correct number of people, the right people, and nothing in the way of modern weapons. Neither side can attempt to unexpectedly beam the other aboard his ship, since we will both have transporters locked on us at all times. And you will recall what interlocking transporter fields did the last time."

  "Jim, he's crazy," McCoy whispered anxiously. "You can't possibly be thinking of—"

  "Go on, Kumara," Kirk said slowly.

  "Each group of three will beam down at opposite ends of the largest town on the main continent, the one bordering the central sea where the two rivers meet. We will then allow ourselves three time periods under the local conditions to . . . ah . . . effect a determination of our conflict, one way or the other. If at the conclusion of that period a solution has not been achieved, each party will beam back up to its ship and we will try something else.

  "Even if my group proves successful, it may still be that your ship will regain its drive and weapons capabilities first. Then my success will have been for naught. Naturally the reverse may occur. So in any case this may not necessarily be the resolution of our situation.

  "What do you think?"

  McCoy was stunned, for it seemed that Kirk was actually seriously considering the Klingon's proposal. "Jim, you're not thinking of going along with this madness, are you? Don't you see what he's up to? It's you he's worried about, not the Enterprise. He's thought up this entire bizarre scheme as a way of eliminating you."

  "Quiet, Bones" was all Kirk said. To Kumara he explained, "I agree that we can insure through various means that no advanced weapons are transported down, that the number of personnel is limited to a single assisting officer, and so on. But even the best of such guarantees can be circumvented. I want something more."

  Kumara looked like a man forced to play his last ace instead of holding it in reserve. "Very well." He rose from his command chair and lifted both arms in a peculiar salute that was half military, half religious in origin.

  "I swear as commander of a warship of the Imperial Fleet, as a Klingon lord, by the sacred warrior's soul of his Imperial Majesty Emperor Karhammur the Fortieth, and by the God of Gods, Great Kinkuthanza, to abide by the terms of the contest I have just set before us and before witnesses."

  He lowered his arms and resumed his seat. "Furthermore, I agree to exchange ships' nadas. They will be able to ove
rsee the actual transporting of each group to the surface, besides acting as hostages."

  Kirk considered, ignoring McCoy's silent entreaties. The stalemate was unnerving. Should the Klingons finish their repairs first, he would be at a decided disadvantage. He looked across at Spock and saw his first officer waiting patiently.

  "What's your opinion, Mr. Spock?"

  "I am not qualified to offer an opinion where a superior officer's life is at stake, Captain. However, I believe the commander's suggestion could be turned to our advantage."

  Kirk nodded. "My thoughts exactly, Spock."

  McCoy looked angrily over at the first officer. "You're crazy too, Spock! What makes you think a Klingon's going to adhere to any kind of rules?"

  "Two things, Bones. First of all, Spock, can you recall any instance of a Klingon officer's breaking an oath sworn on the Emperor's soul and on Kinkuthanza?"

  "Never, Captain. To do so would be the equivalent of murdering one's honor, and the honor of one's line back to the first generation. It is one of the few things I can think of which would be binding on a Klingon."

  "Kumara," Kirk said curtly, turning back to the screen, "I accept your proposal."

  "Excellent! I will beam down with one assisting officer to the eastern end of the town, the sector known to the inhabitants as 'Gray Shadow,' in one hour, your time, from the cessation of this conversation. You were always first in classes at the FEA in Adaptive Ecology, Jim. You will be a challenge. Rest assured the human Delminnen will be with me." His arms came up and crossed again in that peculiar fashion.

  "Good hunting, Jim."

  The screen blanked. "Transmission ended, Captain," Uhura reported.

  Kirk activated the intercom. "Alien Ecology and Sociology, attention. This is the captain speaking. I will require in forty minutes suitable attire for myself, Science Lieutenant Bresica Celli, and Ms Char Delminnen for a stay on the surface of Gypsy. Nothing fancy—you should aim for clothing appropriate for members of the lower noble classes. Also an ample supply of the local medium of exchange. Simulations must be accurate enough to fool the locals."