Star Trek - Log 7

  April looked at him unsurely. There was something in the captain's voice. "What do you mean, Jim?"

  "Nothing . . . just that we received a reply from Starfleet headquarters, relayed all the way to us, which might cheer you up a bit. I'd intended waiting to reveal its contents until we were in orbit around Babel, but"—he shrugged—"I couldn't stand to see a young man cry.

  "Lieutenant Uhura, would you repeat the message to Commodore and Dr. April?"

  Uhura nodded happily. Like everyone else on board, she had come to regard the Aprils as fellow crew members rather than as distinguished passengers. So it gave her pleasure equal to Kirk's own to be able to read, "In view of Commodore Robert April's heroic actions aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise this stardate, the senior command is reviewing mandatory retirement regulations with special regard to the unusual circumstances surrounding Commodore April's present physical status.

  "His earlier requests to remain in active service will be given priority reevaluation. End communiqué." She looked back across the bridge and smiled.

  April said nothing, but Sarah's left hand slid smoothly into his right. His palm enveloped hers as naturally and reassuringly as a snowbank settles around a sleeping sled-dog.

  "And I have more time to continue my research," she murmured. "Perhaps this time I can accomplish one or two things."

  "Well, bravo," April finally exclaimed confidently. "Maybe now I can talk them into doing away with that idiot mandatory retirement age altogether." His voice rose with the zeal of renewed youth.

  "Retirement shouldn't be a function of abstract statistics. By God, the Federation's got to realize that a person's ability isn't automatically invalidated on a specific date."

  "I'll support you on that, Bob," Kirk agreed, "and would even if I didn't see myself repeating your complaint a number of years from now."

  "Insertion into Babel orbit in one hour fifteen minutes, Captain," Sulu reported from the helm. April looked resigned.

  "Sarah and I had better get our things together, Jim. I may have to have some emergency alterations performed on my dress uniform."

  "And I can't wait to perform some on mine," Dr. April added vivaciously.

  April half-whispered the next words, but Kirk heard them clearly. "And, Jim, even if it wasn't too pleasant for the rest of you, thanks for the opportunity to be a starship captain again."

  They turned to leave the bridge, and as they did so Kirk noticed that Sarah April was holding the brilliant, revived Capellan flower.

  "Bob always did say that the Enterprise had the best crew in Starfleet. I see it's as true today as it was thirty years ago. Thank you for everything, Captain Kirk."

  "Doctor April," he acknowledged softly. Then his tone brightened. "I always wanted to be a kid again. After having the chance, I can see I wasn't missing much." He gestured at the blossom. "I see your flower's bloomed again."

  She was staring up at the contented face of the commodore, but she heard him. "Everything has, Captain," she murmured.

  Kirk watched them until they had left the bridge. He turned and settled back into the chair. There was still a little time left before he would have to go through the rigors of donning a full-dress uniform and making inane conversation with boring but important people.

  For now he could spend a number of pleasant hours doing nothing but staring at the exhilarating, lush blackness of the real universe.

  As they neared Babel, he noticed Spock staring into apparent nothingness. Such abstract concentration was not unusual for the first officer, however. Often his thoughts were his own best friend. But Kirk detected a hint of a peculiar expression crossing Spock's face from time to time.

  Idly, he asked, "What did you think of your temporary return to the joys of childhood, Spock? You didn't age down to a squalling babe like most of us, so your memory of those minutes is probably stronger."

  "Joys of childhood, Captain?" the first officer echoed diffidently. He assumed a firm, no-nonsense tone. "Childhood is a time of indiscipline, insecurity, and instability, both emotional and logical. From a physiological and informational point of view the experience was somewhat intriguing, but it was otherwise nonbeneficial. I would hardly call it a 'joy,' and I surely have no special desire to repeat it."

  "Naturally, of course," Kirk muttered, taken a bit aback by his friend's logical appraisal of what, for him, had been a warm if confusing experience. "I suppose I agree with you. After all, that's the only rational way to look at it."

  "Quite."

  "By the way, what were you thinking of just now?"

  "Captain?"

  "A moment ago. You were wandering."

  "I was . . . analyzing the experience in question and culling its scientific values."

  Kirk seemed disappointed. "Of course, though it almost appeared once that you might have been talking to yourself."

  "A not impossible phenomenon, Captain. I am not immune to subliminal vocalizations. It is merely rare in Vulcans. But I am interested. What did you think you heard?"

  "Nothing that made sense," the Captain replied, repeating it slowly. "Ee-chiya—that's all."

  "You are correct, Captain, nothing that makes sense." He returned his attention to his multitude of instruments, his readouts and gauges and illumined lists of scientific minutiae.

  "It vaguely resembled an obscure Vulcan scientific term, nothing more. Nothing more . . ."

  The astounding metamorphosis of the Aprils was the highlight of the ambassadorial gathering at Babel. Expecting to honor an aged, white-haired couple, the conferees were shocked when the youthful pair presented themselves at function after stunned function.

  All they met were shocked, stunned, and envious. Hopes did not fall even when inquiries into the transformation by friends old and new revealed the methodology necessary to achieve the radical alteration. None present regarded the dangers of diving into a nova seriously—old men have nothing to lose. It made some of them bolder than the rawest recruit.

  The devolution of the Aprils would have one side effect. It would speed, with the aid of the charts provided by Arretian scientists, research into warp-drive technology.

  Now immortality had become a question of getting rapidly from place to place, in order to get from time to time . . .

  V

  As it turned out, Kirk was spared the enervating agony of attending endless speeches, parties, and conferences. A Federation cruiser not on planned layover could not be permitted to languish unengaged at an idle port of call. Their job had been to deliver Commodore April and his wife to the conference. This done, it was only a matter of time before new orders were received.

  Kirk kept a reluctant smile on his face as he took leave of various representatives on Babel.

  "Emergency priority signal received aboard, Captain," Spock whispered to him. Kirk frowned, then reapplied the reluctant smile he had been artfully employing all afternoon.

  "Sorry to have to run, Ambassador Werthel, Admiral M'aart, Dame M'arrt," he explained hastily to the little group. "Duty runs on its own timetable."

  "Arr, yes," the ample mate of the Caitian admiral purred in remembrance. "How clearrly I myself rrememberr the time only a few yearrs ago when—"

  "Yes, well, you'll have to tell me all about it, in full detail, the next time we can get together," Kirk assured her, backing smoothly toward the doorway. "Let's get out of here, Mr. Spock," he said feelingly, "before this smile cracks my face."

  "A physiological impossibility, Captain, though the meaning is clear."

  With mixed feelings Kirk reentered the bridge: relief at the return to comfortable surroundings (how that admiral's wife could whine!), but apprehension at what would prompt Starfleet to break in on a diplomatic conference.

  "You're certain this was an emergency priority call, Lieutenant?" he asked Uhura.

  "Yes, sir. I keyed the proper response code the moment I heard that you and Mr. Spock were back on board. The message should be coming through any second."

&nb
sp; "All right, Lieutenant." Tap, tap, click, tap . . . He forced his fingers to freeze on the command-chair armrest, forced himself to listen to the quiet. "Mr. Spock, has the science section noted anything out of the ordinary in this region?"

  "Negative, Captain. I ran a standard query through all subsections the moment I arrived back on board. Everything in this sector reports in normal and undisturbed."

  "Call coming through, Captain."

  "Um. Put it on the main screen, Lieutenant."

  Kirk swiveled siightly as the screen cleared. Crisp with power, it showed the slight form of an aged Oriental seated behind a gleaming chrome desk devoid of ornamentation. Long white shoulder-length hair was combed straight back, and the creases in that young-old face seemed as fresh and as neatly cut as the lines of her uniform. Only the eyes of polished hazel revealed an intensity inspired by something other than age. They hinted at heavy burdens borne by generations. Only in the last few had those burdens changed from physical to mental.

  A hand came up in casual, knowing wave. Three stripes decorated the sleeve.

  "Greetings, Captain Kirk," a surprisingly strong voice said over the speakers and across parsecs.

  Kirk's reply was one of respectful surprise. This he hadn't expected. "Hello, Commodore Sen. How are things at Starfleet Security?"

  The commodore smiled wistfully. "Interesting, as always, Captain Kirk. Interesting and perpetually worrisome. And, as always, people rather than events cause the most trouble. For example, how do the names Van and Char Delminnen strike you?"

  "At a vague angle, Commodore. Sorry, but I—"

  "Excuse me, Captain, but I believe I am familiar with the persons in question. If memory serves me—"

  "Doesn't it always?" Uhura murmured. Spock favored her with a mildly reproving glance.

  "If memory serves, Van Delminnen was a Fellow of the London Institute for Theoretical Physics some years ago. A research Fellow. His specialty lay on the fringe of what was known about the specific gravity of heavy elements.

  "Apparently his brilliance was exceeded only by his unorthodox methodology, which was in turn matched by the volatility of his temperament. He withdrew from the institute amid a storm of accusations and counteraccusations. Dropped from sight . . . I recall the tape well."

  "Nothing heard of them since?"

  "The only information I have encountered, Captain, were rumors that he and his sister were living on an otherwise uninhabited moon in the Theta Draconis system."

  "Your opinion of him . . . from the information you've encountered?"

  The first officer paused thoughtfully for a moment. "Arrogant and harmless . . . a crippled genius, Captain, possibly mentally unstable."

  "You are partially correct, First Officer Spock," the serious voice called from the screen. "Brilliant—decidedly. Unorthodox—yes. Mentally unstable . . . perhaps. But we have reason to doubt the 'harmless.' " She reached off-screen and consulted several sheets of plastic. After a cursory glance, she turned back to the visual pickup.

  "Captain Kirk, a prospecting vessel whose specialty is searching out marginal deposits of valuable metals passed through the limits of the Theta Draconis system ten standard days ago. They were returning to mine a small deposit of polonium reported by the original drone survey of the system as existing on a continent of the ninth planet." She leaned forward.

  "Instead of the ninth world, they found a previously unreported asteroid cluster of considerable mass. A similar cluster had also taken the place of the system's eighth planetary body. Simple calculations by the ship's computer indicated what you must already have suspected: The mass of the two asteroidal groupings very nearly equaled that of the two missing worlds.

  "As you might imagine, they left the system without pursuing these unusual developments more closely, straining their engines to their limits.

  "I am told," she continued, as the bridge crew listened in amazement, "that normal spatial phenomena can in no way account for this dual disaster. We must therefore assume that abnormal forces are at work. Combine this information with the detection of highly unusual, very powerful radiation emanating from the system's largest moon, which circles its fifth world—well, I hardly think I need to draw you a diagram, Captain Kirk.

  "You see, Mr. Spock, the rumors were correct. The Delminnens have taken up residence in the Theta Draconis system. They have also seemingly taken to making small planetoids out of big planets.

  "Starfleet is very worried, I am very worried. And since the Enterprise is the Federation ship nearest the Theta Draconis system, you too should be worried, Captain Kirk.

  "You will proceed immediately to the system in question and establish contact with the Delminnens. You will invite Van Delminnen to return to Terra, where he is to be granted a permanent appointment to Starfleet Research at a generous annual stipend."

  "Suppose," Kirk ventured, "Delminnen declines our invitation? He has no reason to hold any love for Federation institutions."

  "In that unfortunate event," the commodore replied, "you are authorized to utilize whatever means you deem necessary to entice him and his sister aboard ship. Good luck, Captain Kirk."

  The image vanished. "Transmission concluded, Captain," Uhura reported. "Standard recording procedures were in operation."

  "Thank you, Lieutenant. I want that blanket authorization made part of the formal record." He turned to his first officer. "Mr. Spock . . . opinions?"

  "A device capable of producing the effect described by the commodore seems beyond the capability of modern technology, Captain. Total annihilation of a planetary mass, yes. Selective disintegration, no."

  "And yet it appears that Delminnen can do just that. No wonder Starfleet is concerned." Kirk turned to the helm. "Mr. Sulu, set course for Theta Draconis Five. Warp-five. Mr. Arex, sound yellow alert. All stations will remain on same until the Delminnens are secured on board."

  "You make those two sound like a dangerous weapon, Captain," Sulu observed solemnly.

  "That's exactly how the commodore described them, Lieutenant. And that's exactly how we're going to treat them—at least until we find out what's been going on in the Draconis system . . ."

  Great bands of orange, red, and yellow turned Theta Draconis Five into a monstrous ball of poisoned softness. Its hostile surface lay swathed in a fuzzy cloak of ammonia and methane, and it howled at the ether with wild, undisciplined radiations.

  Records indicated that it was attended by seven satellites, one of which the Enterprise was currently orbiting. It was not the largest or the smallest, but it was surely unique, for it possessed a breathable atmosphere.

  ". . . and little else," Spock intoned, his eyes fixed to the gooseneck viewer. "Other than the livable atmosphere, there is nothing of interest on the moon, nothing to make it attractive to settlers. It has neither commercial nor military value."

  "All of which makes it ideal for a would-be hermit like Delminnen," Kirk observed as he stared at the rust-colored globe and its startlingly white miniature icecaps. He touched a switch on the command-chair arm.

  "Captain's log, Stardate 5536.8. We have arrived at Theta Draconis and established orbit around the habitable moon of the fifth planet, where we are hoping to encounter the elusive Delminnens and their mysterious weapon . . . if indeed it is a weapon, if it indeed exists.

  "Personally, I am skeptical as to the existence of said device. But Mr. Spock has verified the appearance of two unreported asteroid clusters in the positions formerly occupied by planets eight and nine, so some immensely powerful force has been at work in this system." The captain closed down the log and looked to his left. "Initial report, Mr. Spock?"

  The first officer looked across, his attention turned from his readouts. "Mostly desert, tundra or hot, with little free water. No indication of life more developed than the lower invertebrates. It's easy to see why the Delminnens selected this particular satellite. It offers nothing of interest to the most bored traveler."

  "Then perhaps they w
on't mind leaving it so much. Lieutenant Uhura, see if you can raise the Delminnens. Try near the edge of the north polar cap—that appears to be the most hospitable section of this moon."

  "Aye, sir." She turned to her instrumentation and responded after a surprisingly short pause. "Captain, I have made some kind of aural-visual contact already."

  "They must have some detection equipment, then," Kirk noted. "Very well, flash the image on the main screen." He threw Spock a quick glance. "Get a fix on the transmitter's location and relay it to Transporter Control."

  Spock moved to comply as Uhura struggled with her equipment. "The signal is weak but clear . . . there."

  The figure that appeared was that of a shockingly young man: rail-thin, pale-skinned, with too-large eyes bordering a shark-hook of a nose. Straight sandy hair fell in hirsute drips across his face, and he brushed constantly, nervously at the strands.

  "Who the devil are you and what do you want?"

  Spock had moved to stand next to the command chair. "Sociable fellow, isn't he?" Kirk whispered to him, before turning to the screen and assuming his most pleasant tone.

  "Good day to you, Professor Delminnen. I am James Kirk, Captain of the starship Enterprise, currently in orbit around your charming worldlet. I come at the urgent request of Star-fleet Command."

  "I'll bet." Delminnen smirked, smiling at some private joke.

  "I have been instructed to offer you, in the name of the Federation, a permanent research position in advanced physical theory at the Starfleet Institute itself, with all the honors thereunto attached." He kept a straight face as he added, "There has been considerable renewed interest in some of your early theories, you see."

  And the later developments, Kirk added, but to himself only.

  "May I have the pleasure of conveying your acceptance to Starfleet headquarters?"

  "Just . . . just a minute, Captain," Delminnen said. "I need a moment to consider."

  Those aboard the Enterprise waited while the figure disappeared from the screen. The lift doors slid apart, and Dr. McCoy entered the bridge. He looked from the now blank screen to Kirk. The captain put a finger to his lips as Delminnen reappeared.