Star Trek 06 Page 13

  "What is Gideon?"

  "Your home, the planet you came from . . . don't you remember?"

  "I don't know any Gideon." She looked at him, apparently utterly lost.

  "That's impossible. We were in synchronous orbit over the capital city. I was supposed to beam down. Something went wrong. You must have been sent aboard from Gideon."

  She shook her head, trying to remember.

  "I do not think so."

  Kirk flipped on the viewing screen. Gideon had vanished. The changing patterns of the stars indicated the forward motion of the ship. Odona moved closer, and put her hand in his.

  "We are no longer over Gideon," said Kirk in a flat voice.

  "Where are we?"

  "I don't know. I don't recognize that quadrant," said Kirk dully.

  Odona bit her lip. Thinking aloud, Kirk said, "Odona, you must realize that we are not here together by accident. Someone must have arranged it, for a purpose, an unknown purpose."

  A small voice replied, "Captain Kirk, before I said I wasn't afraid. Now, I think I am."

  He looked at her with compassion, and they turned back to the incomprehensible pattern of stars.

  "Go back two degrees, there was a pulse variation," said Spock. Sulu maneuvered the sensor screen.

  "There," said Spock. "There is something. Give me a reading."

  Sulu flicked switches. "I can't make it out, sir."

  "Get chemical analysis and molecular structure."

  Sulu pointed silently at the indicators. Scott, McCoy and Chekov watched anxiously. Spock shook his head.

  "Space debris."

  Sulu sighed, and resumed tracking.

  "Lieutenant Uhura, has Starfleet honored our request with an answer?"

  "Not yet, sir."

  "Did you impress upon them that the Captain's life is at stake?"

  "Of course, Mr. Spock," she said indignantly. "But they insisted that the matter had to be referred to the Federation."

  "What department?"

  "Bureau of Planetary Treaties, sir."

  "Contact them directly."

  "I already have, Mr. Spock. They insist we go though Starfleet channels."

  Sulu exploded, spinning in his chair. "With the Captain missing that's the best they could come up with?"

  "A bureaucrat," said Spock bitterly, "is the opposite of a diplomat. But they manage to achieve the same results."

  He stared at the chronometer. The second indicator . clicked on. The captain was waiting . . . somewhere. And time was passing inalterably.

  Suddenly Uhura's voice broke the tense silence.

  "Mr. Spock, Gideon is making contact."

  McCoy said sourly, "Now we're in for another dose of doubletalk."

  "Since we must learn the language of diplomacy in order to deal with our present problem, shall we just listen to what they have to tell us?" said Spock. "Then, Doctor, we can decide on the relative merits of their statements."

  Four poker-faced ministers flanked the Prime Minister as he appeared on the viewer. Courteously, Spock began, "Your Excellency, we are pleased to hear that you have news of the Captain."

  "Good news!" said the smiling image. "Very good news indeed, Mr. Spock. Your Captain is definitely not on Gideon. We have made a thorough search, just as you requested. I am sure you will be relieved to know you may now proceed to investigate all the other possibilities, and forget about Gideon."

  "But that is not what we requested!"

  "It is in the records, Mr. Spock," broke in the voice of the Prime Minister. "You asked for a thorough search of Gideon. We have used every means at our disposal to accommodate you, Mr. Spock." Outraged astonishment overlaid the diplomat's usual smile.

  "Your record on this subject cannot be precise, Excellency."

  Hodin waved to an assistant, and took from him a thick book. With ambitious eagerness the assistant had already opened it to a specific passage.

  "You do not intend, I hope, that a conference be made the subject of a dispute between Gideon and the Federation, Mr. Spock."

  "Your Excellency, a dispute is farthest from our minds. It's quite unnecessary to check your documents. I am merely suggesting to you that the language of our request may not have been understood exactly as intended."

  Hodin stood up, huffily indignant. He waved his puffy hand.

  "Mr. Spock, you are an officer of a spaceship. In your profession you make use of many instruments, tools, and . . . weapons . . . to achieve your objectives, do you not?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Hodin's eyes were squinting with an apparent effort to remain diplomatically cool. His posture betrayed him.

  "However," he continued, "the only tool diplomacy has is language. It is of the utmost importance that the meaning be crystal clear."

  Spock's own posture was of stiff attention.

  "I am basically a scientist, Excellency. Clarity of formulation is essential in my profession also."

  "I am glad to hear that. Perhaps then you will make a greater effort to choose your words precisely."

  The word "precisely" vibrated through the bridge like a red petticoat in a bullring. The crew was coming to a full boil; all hands were fists by now.

  McCoy muttered, "Are you going to let him get away with that, Spock?"

  "No matter what you say, he'll find a way to twist the meaning," said Scott.

  Uhura growled, "How can you stand this, Mr. Spock?"

  McCoy leaned past Spock to the viewer and spoke directly to Hodin. "Our Captain is lost out there somewhere. We don't care how much you have searched, we are going over every inch of space ourselves. He's got to be down there somewhere. We're going after him!"

  Too loudly, Chekov said, "This is no time to stick to rules and regulations, this is an emergency!" McCoy gently pulled him back, and leaned toward the screen again.

  "We can't leave without being absolutely positive ourselves that everything has been done," he said. "Surely you can understand our feelings."

  Hodin turned back to the screen, smiling.

  "Mr. Spock. Mr. Spock."

  "Yes, Your Excellency?"

  "Are you still there?" That smile was imperturbable. "There was considerable interference with your transmission. A great deal of noise drowned out your transmission; could you please repeat more clearly?"

  McCoy retreated, baffled. "Let me apologize for the noise, Your Excellency," said Spock. "To summarize, I request permission to transport down to Gideon."

  The Prime Minister looked at his deputies and back at Spock. They all burst out in offensive laughter.

  "Forgive me, Mr. Spock," Hodin's oily voice resumed. "No criticism of your equipment is intended. But evidently it has sent your Captain on some strange journey—we all still hope a safe one, of course." He bowed formally. "But it could create for us a grave incident with your Federation. And now you propose to repeat the disaster with yet another officer? Are you mad?"

  Scott shouted, "I'll not take that, Mr. Spock. The Transporter was in perfect condition . . . I pairsonally guarantee that mysel'. Transport me down there this minute and I'll be proving it to those . . . those . . . gentlemen!"

  The chill in Spock's quick glance froze Scott in his tracks.

  "I could not quite make that out, Mr. Spock. Would you be so good as to repeat what you said?" Hodin gave every appearance of amusement at the antics of the crew.

  "The ship's engineer was saying that the malfunction that existed has now been repaired," said Spock, a quelling eye on Scott. "We would like to test it immediately. I would like to transport down to your Council Chamber."

  "But, Mr. Spock, you . . ."

  Spock interrupted Hodin. "Your Excellency, grant this one request."

  "You are a very persistent fellow, Mr. Spock."

  A moment of tension passed while Hodin again consulted with his staff.

  "All right, Mr. Spock." A whistling sound passed through the bridge as the entire crew released held breath. "You shall test the skill of your
. . . er . . . very excitable repairman."

  Scott's teeth ground in Chekov's ear. "He doesna ken what excitable is . . ." Chekov grinned at him, and whispered, "But he's letting him go . . . Wait."

  "There is one further proviso. We cannot risk additional incident. You will therefore transport a member of my staff to your ship. Let us first see if that works."

  "Thank you, Your Excellency. Your proposal is accepted." Spock turned to Scott. "Transporter Room, Mr. Scott, on the double."

  "At once, Mr. Spock," said Scott, rather stiffly. He stalked to the elevator and punched the door.

  On the screen, yet another assistant with a large book was talking to Hodin, who looked up.

  "My assistant will provide you with the proper, what is the word?"

  "Co-or-di-nates," said Spock, very clearly.

  "Thank you. You may proceed."

  The Gideonite assistant placed himself at a corner of the Council Chamber.

  "875," he said.

  "875, Mr. Scott," said Spock.

  "875, aye."

  "020."

  "020."

  "709."

  "709?" The last number was repeated. Spock hesitated for a moment.

  '709, Mr. Scott. Energize."

  "Mr. Spock, the young gentleman from Gideon is here," Scott reported triumphantly.

  "Very good, Mr. Scott." Spock turned to the screen. "Your assistant is safely arrived, Your Excellency. And now we would like to send down myself and if possible, a few technicians to follow through on . . ."

  "Now, now, now, Mr. Spock. Not so fast. That is quite a different matter. We agreed to allow one representative on our soil, your Captain alone. Now you suggest a 'few technicians.' And will the Federation then demand an army of 'technicians' to hunt for these?"

  Patiently, Spock said, "I will demand only one thing, Prime Minister; that I be permitted to beam down to your planet to search for the Captain."

  "Your request," said Hodin, smoothly triumphant, "will be brought to the floor at the next session of Gideon's Council. Er . . . do not look forward to a favorable reply."

  "Your Excellency!" Spock pressed the switch several times rapidly; the screen remained blank. He hit, the intercom.

  "Mr, Scott. Send the gentleman from Gideon home."

  "I was just beginning to think you might find a new career as a diplomat, Spock," said McCoy.

  "Do not lose hope, Doctor. Lt. Uhura, contact Starfleet Command. Demand an instant reply to our request for permission to land on Gideon."

  The room was tense as Uhura operated her console.

  "Enterprise to Starfleet Command."

  "Enterprise to Starfleet Command."

  "Enterprise to Starfleet Command." Kirk and Odona bent over the console, Kirk's fingers expertly flicking the controls.

  "Captain Kirk here. Red Priority Alert. Do you read me? Red Priority Alert." The console impassively continued its normal light patterns.

  "Isn't it working?" said Odona.

  "It seems to be all right." Kirk flipped the manual control and held it open.

  "Kirk here. Answer please. Red Priority Alert."

  "If it is working someone must hear you," Odona said hopefully.

  "There's nothing. If they do hear they aren't replying."

  "Why would they do that?"

  "They wouldn't." Kirk glanced quizzically at her, then crossed the bridge to Sulu's board. With a few swift motions he altered the setting so that the lights showed a different pattern.

  "I'm taking the ship out of warp speed."

  "Out of what?" Odona looked utterly baffled.

  Kirk laughed. "Space terminology. We're no longer moving faster than light. I trimmed her down to sublight speed till we can find out where we are."

  "It doesn't feel any different."

  "Well, no." Kirk was amused. Abruptly, his smile faded. "Maybe it isn't." He stared at the other consoles, one by one. No change was apparent. He turned on the forward viewing screen. No motion was visible in the star-filled sky, still and remote.

  "Has the ship slowed down?"

  "If we can believe the screen, it has."

  "Oh, don't tell me the sky is out of order now!"

  They stood side by side watching the glittering heavens; behind them the console lights moved in rhythmic silence. Odona said softly, "It's so quiet, and peaceful."

  "It isn't really, you know. Out there, it's . . ." As he turned his head to look at her he felt fingers against his lips.

  "And it's beautiful," she said.

  Kirk looked back at the panoply on the screen, and at the delicate oval face in its black wings of hair.

  "And it's beautiful. Very beautiful."

  "We're all alone here. Can it last a long, long time?" Her eyes were raised to his, sparkling. His arm slipped around her.

  "How long would you like it to last?"

  "Forever." Odona's voice was barely audible.

  "Let's see now. Power; that's no problem, it regenerates. Food; we had a five years' supply for four hundred and thirty. For two of us that should last . . ."

  "Forever?"

  Their eyes met, and her hands touched his shoulders. He pulled her closer. She said in a trembling voice, "All my life I've dreamed of being alone . . ."

  The startling intensity of her "alone" woke Kirk; the moment was broken. Gently he released her. She stood, her arms still raised, eyelids lowered, her expression rapt.

  "Most people are afraid of being alone," Kirk said.

  She opened her eyes and looked him in the face.

  "Where I live people dream of it."

  "But why? What makes the people of Gideon dream of being alone?" His voice had recovered its tone of impersonal interest.

  "I . . ." she caught herself. Her expression of puzzlement returned. "Gideon? I told you I don't know where my home is." She shook her head.

  "It might well be Gideon." Kirk appraised her coolly.

  "Does it matter so much?" She started toward him, her hands out.

  "It might help me locate our position." She stopped. Her hands dropped to her sides. She shrugged, almost imperceptibly.

  "And then you might find your crew. Being here with you, I forgot there were others. I envy your sense of loyalty." She drew close to him. "I wish I could ease your fear for your friends."

  Kirk shook his head. "I must make contact with whoever is manipulating us. I've got to find a way . . ." He paced the room, stopping in front of each of the consoles, willing them to reveal something, the smallest clue. Suddenly he whirled and faced the girl.

  "Odona, can't you remember why your people want so much to be alone?"

  A wave of utter panic swept over her face. She shivered, although there was no change in the temperature.

  "Because they cannot ever be."

  "Why not?"

  "There are so many." He could hardly hear her reply. She lifted her head. A shuddering force seemed to rise from her slender body.

  "So many . . . so many. There is no place, no street, no house, no garden, no beach, no mountain that is not filled with people. If he could, each one would kill to find a place to be alone. If he could, he would die for it."

  She stared at him, tears creeping down her cheeks, supporting herself on Uhura's chair. She looked exhausted.

  "Why were you sent here, Odona?" Kirk put the question compassionately.

  Her head lifted proudly. "No one commands Odona. I was not sent here."

  Kirk strode to her side, and took her face in his hands.

  "Have you come here to kill?"

  Her tearstained face was shocked; unable to answer, her lips formed a soundless "no."

  "Have you come here to die?"

  "I don't know. I don't care . . . I only know I am here. I only know I am happy here." She threw her arms around his neck and clung to him, desperately. The trouble in her eyes moved Kirk as her coquetry had failed to do. He kissed her, gently, then more urgently. Yet in the back of his mind the images evoked by her torm
ented outcry haunted him; faces of people yearning for solitude, young, old, men, women and children unable to draw a breath that was not their neighbor's.

  The stars on the viewscreen ignored them.

  Suddenly Kirk drew back his arm with an exclamation. She flinched.

  "I have done something wrong?"

  "No." Kirk smiled ruefully. But he let her go, and pulled up his sleeve. There was a bruise on his forearm. Blood made a tiny dome in its center.

  "Why does it take so long?" Odona asked, peering at it.

  "Long? What?"

  "The bruise. It stays the same."

  "And the irritation gets worse. If Dr. McCoy were here he'd take care of it with a simple wave of his medical tricorder."

  It was obviously the same as if he had said "his wand" to Odona, but she said, "I would willingly give up some of this glorious space to Dr. McCoy, if he could take away your . . . irritation."

  "They took Dr. McCoy, but they had to leave Sickbay," said Kirk. He took her arm and steered her to the elevator.

  On the bridge of the other Enterprise, Uhura, Chekov, Scott and McCoy were intently scanning the viewscreen. Spock stood at attention in the Captain's position. Over the air the voice of the Starfleet Admiral, slightly distorted by its long journey, sounded extremely stern.

  "I sympathize deeply, but Starfleet cannot override Federation directives in this matter."

  "The crew will not understand it, Admiral."

  "Damn straight," muttered McCoy.

  "Has your crew suddenly become interested in provoking a war, Mr. Spock? That is hardly Starfleet's mission."

  "We only want to save the life of the Captain," repeated Spock.

  "You have not proved your case to the Federation, or even to Starfleet, for that matter," said the Admiral.

  "What's the matter wi' them all?" said Scott in a surly voice. "Ye'd think naebody but us care at all . . ."

  Spock shushed him with a wave of his hand behind his back.

  "I'm positive I will be able to do so to your satisfaction, Admiral. It has been clear to me since my first exchange of, er . . . courtesies with the Prime Minister that they have taken the Captain prisoner."

  "Granted, Mr. Spock."