CAPTAIN KIRK FOUND CHEKOV lying on an air mattress in sickbay, between two of the vats of gelatinous substance the Sackers used for beds. The young navigator's helmet was off and he was conscious.
Kirk removed his own helmet and breathed in air only slightly tainted with the Sacker smell. "Chekov? How are you feeling?"
"Not too bad, Kepten. A little shaky, but the pain has been neutralized. Permission to kill Rasputin?"
"Granted," Kirk smiled. "What are they doing for you?"
"Vell, the doctor vants to make sure there is no infection before spraying on the false skin. She vill know soon, she says."
"A kid doctor," Kirk muttered.
"But a good vun, I think. She says she has been studying burn treatment for humans ever since ve beamed aboard, because she vas afraid something like this vould happen."
"Thank heaven for that. I'll bet you've named her."
Chekov smiled innocently. "I call her Bonesovna."
"Don't tell me. Daughter of Bones?"
"Da. Do you think Dr. McCoy vill be pleased?"
"I'd … just as soon not be around when you tell him. Speaking of names, why did you name your two black Sackers but not the orange one?"
"Sewing dissension in the ranks, Kepten. Ivan and Rasputin now look down on the orange vun and treat her like an inferior, and she grows more resentful of them by the hour." Chekov sighed. "But it is not fair. The orange vun vorks harder than the other two and is the vun I vould pick to do any real navigating. I vill give her a name vhen I get back."
"Are you feeling sorry for her? Chekov, we can't feel sorry for them. It wouldn't make any sense to feel sorry for them!" Kirk gnawed his lower lip. "So why do I feel like a rat every time I give Babe or Blue a hard time?"
"Is wery difficult," Chekov agreed.
The captain accepted his navigator's assurances that he would be able to return to his post before long. In the corridor, he told his escort he'd like a look at the baryon reverter; the Sacker flatly refused. Kirk had tried getting in to see it before, always with the same result. He was worried that the reverter might be too large to beam over to the Enterprise.
On the bridge, the first thing Kirk noticed was that the yellow Sacker—Jon?—was seated at the communications station. Then he saw Babe, Brownie, Rose, Iris, and Misterma'am forming a half-circle around the hatchway leading to the head. "What's going on?" he called out.
The Sackers divided enough to let him see Scotty standing before the hatchway, his arms flung out in a protective posture. "Ah, Captain!" the engineer sighed in relief. "Will ye tell these … people to back off!"
"Babe, please get your people away from him," Kirk said. "Do you want to send another of us to sickbay?"
Babe gave an order; the others fell away. "It's the Uhura, Captain," the Sacker commander said angrily. "Misterma'am found out she'd lowered the visuals shield!"
"Well, of course she lowered the shield," Kirk said reasonably. "Our friends have been worrying about us. That was the only way we had of letting them know we were still alive."
"The Enterprise has been watching everything we've done! They'll know we are trainees now!"
"They'd figure that out anyway, Babe. Just from watching the maneuvers. It's nothing to get excited about."
"I want the Uhura placed under restraints! Order her to come out immediately."
"Whoa, wait a minute! Lieutenant Uhura was just following my orders. If anybody's going to be placed under restraints, it'll have to be me."
"An' I knew about it as well," Scotty said stoutly. "So y'might as well restrain me too."
"Well?" asked Kirk. "What's it going to be? Are you going to lock us all up? It's your decision, Babe. You're the commander."
Babe thought it over, without consulting with Brownie. "No," she decided. "You are still needed. But if there is any other irregularity—"
"It's the brig for all of us. Understood."
"And starting right now, you will train us in the use of the weapons systems."
"But there are still several other—"
"Right now, Captain."
He didn't press; her voice had danger signals in it.
Scotty stuck his head through the hatchway. "It's all right, lass. Y'can come out now."
Uhura emerged, looking shaken. She and Scotty both wanted to know how Chekov was doing. Kirk told them he'd be all right.
When he returned to the command chair, he found Chekov's orange Sacker waiting for him. The Sacker asked, "Sir, did I understand you to say the Chekov will recover?"
"Correct. He's going to be all right."
The Sacker made a noise that might have been a sigh. "This one is much relieved."
Kirk examined her closely; she really did look woebegone. "Ah … why don't you go down to see him? I think he has something to tell you."
The Sacker made a murmur of surprise, but checked with Babe and then left. Ivan was seated in the navigator's chair, but Rasputin was nowhere in sight. When he asked, Kirk was told the latter had been temporarily banished from the bridge for his carelessness in burning Chekov. Kirk nodded; that seemed right. He took his seat and announced, "Target practice."
In addition to the usual phasers and photon torpedoes, the still-unnamed Sacker ship had short-burst laser flares for close fighting. Kirk decided to ignore the latter for the time being. He ordered targets released, and the weapons training was under way.
This time the forefinger of Kirk's left hand stayed down. Scotty did his bit, and the helm was agonizingly slow to respond. The two young Sackers manning the weapons-system station showed a good sense of timing. They got so they could hit the moving target from a stationary position; but every time they had to fire on the run, they missed by a mile. And the reason was that the ship was always too slow in getting to where it was supposed to be; weapons and helm were out of synch. Everyone on the bridge was staring at Blue.
"Blue, I don't know what to say to you," Kirk said with simulated sadness. "I tell you and I tell you, you must anticipate these moves. You have to develop a touch for the helm. Mr. Sulu would have made twelve turns in the time it took you to complete one."
Blue was steaming. "The helm is sluggish in its response! I would like to see the captain do any better!"
Aha! A challenge. "Well, I'm no Sulu," Kirk said, getting up from the command chair, "but I think I can make a simple turn faster than that."
Blue slid out of his seat. "Please."
Kirk sat at the helm. "Babe, you give the order."
She waited a few moments and then said, "Hard to starboard."
The ship whipped around nicely. "You see?" Kirk said innocently. "The helm does respond."
"But … but you did nothing more than what I do!" Blue protested.
"I anticipated. You don't anticipate." Kirk moved back to the command chair. "Let's try it again."
They tried it again. And again. And again. Kirk didn't even have to yell at Blue, because Babe was doing that for him. And then Brownie joined in. Then Misterma'am. Before long every Sacker on the bridge was yelling at Blue. Kirk let it all go on for a few minutes before standing up and raising his hands to silence them.
"Blue," he said, "if Mr. Sulu were in command of this vessel and saw what you were doing at the helm, he'd be using you for target practice. I've been trying to figure out what your problem is—and as far as I can see, you're just not concentrating."
"I am concentrating!" Blue yelled.
"We should have taken the Sulu with the others," Brownie said to Babe.
"But you're obviously not concentrating enough," Kirk went on. "You're allowing yourself to be distracted. You've got to learn to shut out all other sights and sounds—only the helm matters. When Sulu is on duty, he never—"
"Sulu! Sulu!" Blue screamed. "I am choking with nausea at the name of Sulu!" He jumped out of his seat and whirled to face Kirk.
"You're away from your post, mister!" Kirk snapped.
"Sir?" said Misterma'am.
"Not you. Him. Return to your post, Blue. You'll never be a Sulu if you act like this."
"That name again!" Blue shrieked. "I am tired of hearing about your wonderful Sulu! And I am tired of having to wear these ridiculous things because of you!" He ripped off his cloak and his translator and stood there defiantly.
Kirk's stomach heaved at the sight of the white wormlike objects oozing around in Blue's intestines, but he forced himself not to look away. "And I am tired of having to wear this thing over my head because of you."
"He cannot understand you, Captain." Babe switched over to her own language and said something to her rebellious helmsman. He started to answer her without the translator—and all three humans on the bridge instinctively tried to slap their hands over their ears, but ended up just smacking their helmets. Babe stopped Blue with a sharp word, and he charged toward a turbolift and was gone.
A tension-filled silence reigned for a moment or two, and then Babe said to Rose, "Consult the duty roster and summon the next helmsman trainee."
Kirk sighed. "We're going to lose a lot of time, you know."
"I know," Babe said. "But it is clear to all of us that Blue cannot do the job."
"She's on her way," Rose reported.
"I think you'd better get Blue back up here," Kirk advised. He hadn't thought Blue would break so soon. Kirk swore to himself; he must have lost sight of the fact that in spite of his seven-foot-plus, Blue was still just a kid. His bolting like that—well, it was something to worry about. If the replacement was no better than Blue had been, Babe might start suspecting there was indeed something wrong with the helm.
They waited, until the turbolift doors opened and a Sacker shorter than the others walked on to the bridge. "Here I be!" she announced.
Kirk, Uhura, and Scotty all did a double take. "Pinky?"
Babe turned to Rose. "I thought [untranslatable] was next up."
"She is," Rose said, "but she has been in sickbay the last two days. Pinky is next."
Pinky plopped down at the helm. "So what do I do?"
Kirk looked up at Babe and cocked an eyebrow.
"I had not anticipated this," the Sacker commander said agitatedly. "The one who backs up Blue has had some training. Pinky has had none."
"You have a problem, Babe," Kirk said expressionlessly. "Part and parcel of being a starship captain."
That was the moment one of the other turbolift doors opened and Chekov's orange Sacker came bouncing in. She was excited and impervious to the air of gloom on the bridge. "I am named!" she announced gleefully. "Do you all hear? I have been given a name of my own! Henceforth you will address me as Orangejuiceandwodka!"
Kirk groaned and covered his eyes. "I could use one," he said.
Dr. Leonard McCoy sat glumly at his desk in the chief surgeon's office, staring at his terminal that he'd keyed in to the main viewscreen on the bridge. The screen showed the Sacker ship changing shape, releasing a practice target, firing, missing. Over and over. Endlessly. What did Jim have in mind? Was he just trying to wear them down?
A shadow fell across his desk. McCoy glanced up and said tiredly, "Ah, sit down, Mr. Spock. Sit down and tell me what's going to happen next."
"I shall sit down," the Vulcan said, doing so, "but I fear I know no more of the future than you do. Once we lost interior visuals, we also lost knowledge of what is occurring on the Sacker bridge."
"More of the same, I'd guess. Jim's waging some kind of psychological warfare over there."
"That is what I came to see you about, Doctor. Our record banks contain no information about the Sacker young. We cannot assume they will react to pressure the same way human young do."
"The human young don't always react the same," McCoy said.
"Exactly. Human and Vulcan youngsters would either withstand the pressure or else break and run. Or—they could rebel, although for Vulcans that would be unthinkable in most circumstances. But we don't know what the Sacker young might do. They could turn on Jim. I am concerned that his tactics may be placing him and the others in danger."
"I've been wondering about that too. But we don't know the situation over there, not really. Jim knows what he's doing, Spock. He always does." McCoy thought a moment. "Well, almost always."
Spock shook his head. "Three men and one woman against perhaps a thousand Sackers? The odds are too great."
"So what do you want of me?"
"An explanation. I want you to tell me how the sonic hypnosis-inducer works."
McCoy smiled tiredly. "You're gonna hypnotize the Sackers? Good luck."
"Doctor. As long as the Sackers' defensive shields remain operational, the only access we have to that ship is through their communications system. Sound is our only possible weapon at the moment. If there is any chance that we can put the Sackers into a trance—"
"That's crazy, Spock! The sonic hypnosis-inducer is configured to the human brain and auditory system. Any fool can tell just by looking at them that the Sackers aren't built the same way we are!"
"I am well aware of that, Doctor. But the hypnosis-inducer's configuration can be changed, I assume."
"Yes, but to what? We don't have anything to go on!"
Spock pressed his lips together. "We may have one thing. The record banks say the Sacker voice is piercing, penetrating. That would suggest a higher pitch than a normal human range."
McCoy looked interested for the first time. "Raising the frequency level of the sound waves the hypnosis-inducer sends out is easy. I can even adjust it up to ultrasonic if we need to go that high, but it will take a little work. There's no therapeutic value in the ultrasonic for humans, so the designers didn't build it in."
"We can use only the frequency levels higher than those liable to produce a trance state in Jim and the others," Spock pointed out. "They have to remain conscious in order to lower the shields, or else the whole exercise will prove futile."
McCoy scowled. "Is that a problem? They're wearing helmets."
"Helmets that evidently do not block sound. They are able to converse."
"Mm, that's right." McCoy thought about it a while and then slowly nodded, realizing the plan just might work. "It might make our people drowsy, but we can keep it high enough not to send them into a trance."
They both fell silent, staring at the Sacker ship on the viewscreen. It had resumed its rectangular shape. As they watched, one section unfolded from the bottom to a perpendicular position, and another unfolded from that, parallel to the ship. The ship looked for all the world as if it were kneeling on one leg.
The doctor stirred. "You understand, Spock, I don't have the foggiest notion of what it takes to hypnotize a Sacker."
"Understood. I would suggest an escalating scale of various frequencies, each to be transmitted for the same time duration."
"It will be hit-and-miss, you know—trying to find the exact level that induces a hypnotic trance in monsters."
"If, indeed, they can be hypnotized," Spock remarked with something close to a sigh. "I shall be happy to assist you if my services are needed."
"Oh, I can use your help, all right," McCoy said, getting up and heading toward the lab. "Come along, Svengali—let's get started."
Blue was back.
Nothing had been said on the bridge, no explanations were offered. But Babe had got him back, one way or another. Now Blue sat stonily silent at the helm, defiantly not wearing his cloak. Iris—the rebellious one—had also cast his cloak aside; Uhura was on her rest period or he might not have found the courage to try it. But when the two Sackers seated at the weapons systems station saw Iris, they'd quietly slipped out of their cloaks as well—giving Scotty a few bad moments, as he was seated at the station next to theirs.
Babe was growing suspicious of Scotty. Kirk had said he wanted the engineer on the bridge to help Blue, to try to feed in more power at those times Blue claimed the helm was sluggish. But since Blue's performance remained abysmal for the most part, Babe was wandering over in Scotty's direction more and more frequently. Kirk decided it was time for Blue to shine a little.
He gave Scotty the signal. "Full reverse."
The ship boomed backwards as if fired out of a cannon. The Sackers were surprised, and none more so than Blue.
"Very good," Kirk said calmly. "Now full stop."
Without even a hint of vibration the ship halted its backward flight.
"Why, Blue, I do believe you're getting the hang of it. Hard to port."
The ship shot off to the left. A couple of the Sackers started jiggling in pleasure. Kirk let Babe take over, and the amazing performance continued. Scotty slowed down the power feed a couple of times to keep it all from looking too easy, but by the time Babe called a halt, the other Sackers were actually congratulating Blue.
Babe ordered a series of six targets released, to be fired upon while the ship was in motion. They hit five out of six.
Blue was jiggling in his seat.
Kirk said, "That was good work, Blue. And you, too, Engineer." He smiled.
"Thank ye, sir," Scotty smiled back.
The captain decided the time was ripe, now while the Sackers were in a self-congratulatory mood and their guard was down a little. Now he could—
But he didn't get a chance to put his plan into operation. Babe unexpectedly announced, "I think we are ready. Rose, you may send the message."
Silence immediately fell on the bridge, and Kirk felt an ominous prickling at the back of his neck. "What message?" he demanded. "What are you talking about, Babe?"
"Put it on audio," she told Rose.
The message was in English.
ATTENTION: STARFLEET COMMAND. THE RACE OF BEINGS YOU ARE PLEASED TO CALL SACKERS HAVE IN THEIR CONTROL THE MEANS TO STOP THE EXPANSION OF THE NEW UNIVERSE WITHIN YOUR OWN. YOU WILL SURRENDER ALL YOUR STARBASES TO US WITHIN TWENTY STANDARD HOURS OR THE EXPANSION WILL BE ALLOWED TO CONTINUE. THERE WILL BE NO NEGOTIATION. YOU HAVE ONLY ONE CHOICE: SURRENDER TO US OR WE ALL DIE.
"That's suicide!" Kirk cried. "Have you no more respect for your own lives than you do for others'? How can you throw your lives away like that?"
"Lass, this is foolishness!" Scotty implored of Babe. "What do ye want to be doin' a thing like that for?"
"It is the Plan," Babe said simply.
"Plan!" Kirk exclaimed. "I keep hearing about a plan! What plan?"
"It is our Plan, and you now have a part to play in it. Captain Kirk, I am giving you an order. You are to shoot down the Enterprise, and you are to do it now."
Kirk was so stunned he couldn't answer.
"Oh, lassie!" Scotty moaned softly.
Kirk recovered. "You're out of your mind. I won't do it."
"If you do not shoot down the Enterprise, Captain, I will. We have a better chance with you in command, but—"
"You have no chance at all!" Kirk said heatedly. "Look, Babe, we need to talk privately. Let's go into the readyroom."
"There is no need for talk. Will you open fire upon the Enterprise?"
"No, and neither will you. There are things I haven't told you. Ten minutes, Babe. You can give me ten minutes."
Before Babe could answer, Rose spoke up. "Message from the Enterprise. Audio only."
"Pipe it in," Babe ordered.
The bridge was suddenly filled with the soft sound of a shimmering, specially augmented tone, oscillating gently between a major keynote and its minor. Then as they listened the tone modulated to a higher pitch.
"Music!" Brownie exclaimed. "Why is the Enterprise sending us music?"
After a few minutes the pitch changed again. "I like it," Orangejuiceandwodka volunteered.
Jon, the yellow Sacker, began rocking from side to side without moving his feet. After a minute Rose joined him, the two swaying in unison as the Enterprise's "music" continued its climb up the scale.
"This makes no sense," Babe said, puzzled, "unless it is a code of some sort that the humans can decipher and we cannot. Is that what it is, Captain Kirk? Captain?" When he didn't answer, she whirled around quickly, for a Sacker. "Captain!"
Kirk had collapsed into the big command chair, his arms cradling his head on the control panel in the armrest. He was sleeping peacefully, a faint smile on his face.
"He's asleep?" Brownie couldn't believe it.
"The music!" Misterma'am cried, suddenly understanding. "It was the music that put him to sleep—they are trying to put us to sleep! Turn it off—quickly! Quickly!"
Rose shut down the transmission from the Enterprise.
The young Sackers exchanged uneasy glances, momentarily rendered speechless by their close call. "These humans are full of tricks," Babe finally said. "We must all be on our guard." She bent over the sleeping captain. "Captain Kirk! Wake up! Captain Kirk!"
"Give him a good shake," Blue growled.
"Captain!"
Kirk drowsily opened his eyes; the sight of Babe peering at him from six inches away completed the waking-up process. "What happened?"
"Your friends aboard the Enterprise tried to put us asleep," Babe answered, straightening up. "As you see, we are not as susceptible to seductive music as you humans."
Seductive music? Kirk tried to think. Spock must have done something with that thingamajig from sickbay, the instrument Bones sometimes used to hypnotize trauma patients. A good notion, with bad results. Kirk sighed heavily—and was startled to hear the sound of rusty machinery starting up.
It wasn't rusty machinery; it was Scotty. The engineer lay sprawled in his seat, head thrown back, snoring up a storm. Kirk walked unsteadily over to him and shook his shoulder. "Scotty—wake up. Wake up, Scotty." He slapped the engineer's cheek lightly four or five times with his fingertips. "Mr. Scott—wake up."
Scotty woke up, reluctantly. And realized he'd been asleep. He was appalled. "Oh, sir! Sleepin' on duty!"
"Not your fault, Scotty. Mr. Spock played us a lullaby—it got me too."
"Captain Kirk!" Babe called impatiently. "Before you took your little nap, you were about to direct an attack against the Enterprise. Return to the command chair."
Kirk fought against a feeling of letdown as he walked back and planted himself in front of the red Sacker. "Before I took my little nap, Babe, I was asking you for ten minutes' private conversation. Is your Great Plan so inflexible it won't allow me ten minutes? What happens to your mission depends on what you do next. You can't make a command decision without knowing as much about the circumstances as you can learn."
Brownie hovered behind the Sacker commander, ready to offer advice. Babe didn't ask for it. "Very well, Captain. Ten minutes only. Brownie, you have the conn."
The brown Sacker twitched. "I?"
"You're in training for a command position, aren't you?" Babe asked sharply. "So command! Take the conn." Unaware of how much like James T. Kirk she'd sounded, she led the captain into the readyroom as Brownie gingerly lowered himself into the command chair.
Most of the readyroom was taken up by a strategy table, currently not activated; the small space was even hotter than the bridge proper. The first thing Babe did was toss aside her cloak. The message was clear; the Sackers were through catering to human peculiarities. Babe's sac fluid was thinner than human blood, but "bloody" was the word that popped into Kirk's mind. Yet his stomach did not heave, much to his surprise. Was he actually getting used to these repulsive-looking beings?
He got straight to the point. "If you fire upon the Enterprise, that will be the biggest mistake of your life."
"I do not see why. We have the superior weaponry."
"Ah, but the Enterprise has something you don't have, and that is a pointy-eared Vulcan named Mr. Spock. Babe, you're nowhere near ready to challenge Mr. Spock. I'm not sure I could take him, and I hope never to have to put it to the test. And there's still the problem of Blue. He had a good run just now, but he's still a neophyte. And remember he'll be going up against the best helmsman in the fleet."
"I cannot allow the Enterprise to interfere with the Plan."
"The Enterprise is not going to interfere! Say Starfleet does surrender its bases to you—the Enterprise is going to want to make sure you get back to the Beta Castelli system safely so you can stop that destructive influx of heat. But say you attack my ship. Mr. Spock will retaliate, you can count on that, even though you have the four of us on board. Your shielding system is good—the best I've ever seen, frankly. But no shield is perfect. What if the Enterprise hits the place where you're storing the baryon reverter? What happens to your wonderful Plan then?"
The Sacker commander twitched; she obviously hadn't considered that. But when she did consider it, she began to sag.
"What happens?" Kirk persisted.
"The Plan fails," she admitted.
"You didn't think of that, did you?" Kirk pressed. "Babe, when you're in command you have to think of everything. It's part of the anticipating I keep telling you about. You can't just react, you have to act first. Like the time Blue stormed off the bridge. You should have been ready for that. And you should never have let him go. But when he did go, you should have called Security and ordered him placed under restraints. You don't ever let a crewman walk out on you—not ever. And I could name a hundred other things. Babe, believe me—you're not ready to take on Mr. Spock. You don't want to risk the reverter. You're in over your head."
She sagged even further. "I have failed," she said heavily. "I have tried to learn, I have tried to follow your example. I have given my very best effort—but it is not good enough. I am not fit to command this vessel."
Kirk's throat tightened; this was it. This was what he'd been building toward, the moment he could move in and crush her utterly, when her self-esteem was at its lowest ebb and her defenses shattered. It was the moment he could shatter her ego beyond any hope of recovery. Do it. Do it now, before she has time to bounce back.
Do it.
He couldn't do it.
He let the silence between them build as he tried to get his own jumbled feelings in order. Finally he began to speak, in the softest tones he'd ever yet used with her. "Babe, you have the makings of a fine starship captain. I've been telling you all the things you've done wrong because that was my job. But I didn't tell you all the things you've done right—even though that should have been part of my job too, I suppose. But you do a lot of things right. You learn fast. You make sensible decisions. You have the respect of your crew. And you've had the courage to take on a responsibility that no youngster should ever be burdened with."
She lifted her head. "What did you call me? A youngster?"
Kirk smiled. "I know you're not grown up yet, Babe. I know you're all youngsters, every one of you on this ship. That accident that put you in charge—it killed off every adult on board."
"How … how did you find out?"
"It doesn't matter. But we've all known for some time now. And the Enterprise knows as well. I sent a sort of message while the visuals shield was down." He laughed awkwardly. "That's one reason I want to avoid a battle. My crew on the Enterprise would feel guilty as hell shooting down a bunch of kids."
"You still consider yourself a part of the Enterprise?"
"Of course. I always will. You'll soon feel that way about your own ship, if you don't already. Babe, tell me about the Plan. It's out in the open now. It's not your plan, is it?"
Babe made one of her indecipherable Sacker sounds and said, "We were not included in the planning sessions, we 'youngsters'. The Plan was formulated before I was taken out of the incubation vat. Our Elders devised the Plan, and every one of us on the ship was trained with only one goal in mind—to make sure the Plan was correctly and efficiently executed when the time came."
"Where are you from originally? Someplace outside the Federation's sphere, I know."
"We originally occupied four planets circling a sun that has no name on your star charts. This was long before I began my life, you understand. But our sun had almost depleted itself of fuel when the Elders of the Four Worlds decided we must find other worlds to live on. And so the search began."
Kirk knew what was coming. "And you found yourselves unwelcome wherever you went."
"Yes. At first no one knew why. The computer has records of the studies made of local laws and customs, and of our attempts to honor them. But gradually the truth came out. The sight and smell of us make other races ill. Our voices can cause deafness. If we touch you, you burn. No one wanted us to stay."
"So you decided to take by force what you couldn't get peaceably."
"Not exactly, and not immediately. Captain, can you understand what it is like to spend your entire life being rejected because of physical attributes you were born with? Everywhere we went, for over fifty years, every race we contacted turned their backs to us. My race did not know there was anything unusual about us until we left our homeworlds. And when we did leave, it was to find ourselves being treated as worse than lepers."
Kirk remained silent, understanding her pain.
"Our computer is full of recorded instances when some well-meaning human made suggestions as to what we could do to get rid of our odor, or change our appearance, or the like. It was always assumed that we would not only be willing to alter ourselves to accommodate your prejudices, but also that we should be glad of the opportunity to do so. No human ever suggested altering himself to accommodate us."
Kirk grimaced. "Yes, that's the human race for you, I'm afraid."
Babe went on, "Eventually the Elders became convinced there was no place at all for us in your Federation. So the years of ignominy eventually came to a head, and the Plan was devised to force you to learn to live with us. If we were the rulers and you the underlings, then you would have no choice but to adapt. So when the Zirgosians perfected their technique for tapping into a neighboring universe, the Plan was put into action."
Kirk had suspected it must be something like that, but hearing Babe put it into words made it more real. This takeover plan was not hers, but she was doing her damnedest to make sure it worked. But all the Sackers were in on it, not just this ship. And because of the accident that robbed this ship of all its adults, the entire Sacker race was forced to rely upon a youngster to get the job done. Why didn't they just wait until some adult Sackers could be beamed aboard from another ship?
Because that would have upset the Plan, Kirk told himself. He remembered the signal they'd received from the other Sackers saying that a recently repaired ship was now in orbit around Starbase Four. Probably every Starbase had a Sacker ship circling it now, ready to accept the base's surrender. Or perhaps several ships—nobody knew how many Sackers there were all together. To pull one of those vessels away long enough to meet Babe's ship might have upset some distribution of power they'd arranged. And there was something else. Scotty had said each ship carried one "clan"; perhaps beaming adults aboard from another ship would have violated some clan taboo. But whatever the Sackers' reasons, it was now up to Babe and her crew of kids to make the Plan work.
Kirk finally spoke. "So none of this was your idea. But there's one thing that was your idea." He paused. "Holox."
"It was necessary," Babe said quietly. "We could not allow the colonists to endanger the incubation vats."
"There were ways to stop them other than by killing them, Babe. And you killed two of my people as well, a woman named Ching and a man named Hrolfson. That makes you a murderer, Babe. Doesn't that mean anything to you at all?"
"A hundred alien lives are of less value than one of our own."
"That's something else that sounds memorized. Besides, all lives are of value."
"That is a comforting thing to say, Captain, but do you truly believe it? The stranger who attacks your friend—is his life of equal value to that of your friend?"
Kirk grunted. "Well, there's one thing I'll have to take back. Maybe you're more grown up than I gave you credit for. But the killing was wrong, Babe. No argument in the universe can justify what you did to those people on Holox."
The readyroom didn't have space enough for any serious pacing, but Babe managed it anyway. Three steps in one direction, three steps back. "Captain Kirk, from the day I was old enough to understand language, I was taught that I must harden myself against other races. Every one of us on this ship has been taught to kill when killing is the solution to a problem that might interfere with the Plan. It is a doctrine I accept. I not only accept it, I embrace it. As much as I have come to respect you, Captain, I will kill you rather than let you interfere. Make no mistake about that."
Kirk's heart pounded. He took off his helmet to wipe an arm across his sweaty forehead. "And you're willing to kill yourself and the rest of your race rather than …"
"Rather than continue as lepers. Yes."
"Oh, Babe, Babe!" Kirk groaned. "You've lived your whole life on a ship—you don't understand what it is you're destroying! You have the rest of your life ahead of you, and you don't have to live it inside these bulkheads. It doesn't have to end this way. . . . let's talk. We can work something out."
"We tried that. No one listened."
"Then let's try again. I don't think anyone understood what it was like for you."
She stopped pacing. "It is no longer in my hands. The Plan is under way."
"Contact the other ships. Tell them—"
"Captain," she interrupted him abruptly. "Your helmet. You did not put your helmet back on."
He'd forgotten. The minute she mentioned it, though, Kirk's stomach started to churn. He forced down the feeling of nausea and said, "You see? We can adapt. You just didn't give us enough of a chance."
Babe stared at him, unbelieving.
He said, "Do you really want to kill me, Babe?"
She took her time answering. "I do not wish to kill anyone. But I will, if I must. It is my duty."
"Your duty, but not your conviction."
"My duty and my conviction."
"I don't believe you."
If it was possible for a Sacker to look shaken, Babe did. She sat down at the strategy table opposite Kirk. "You have said much to disturb me, Captain. I need to think."
"Take your time. And while you're thinking, call off your attack on the Enterprise—it wouldn't succeed anyway."
She was silent a few moments, and then burst out, "No! I cannot listen to you! You are more experienced than I, and you use your experience to twist me and make me uncertain. I refuse to listen to you, Captain James T. Kirk! We will attack the Enterprise!"
Kirk's heart sank. He'd almost had her! "Babe—"
"No! Say no more! We will attack."
"Then postpone the attack a while. There's one basic battle maneuver you must know if you're to have any kind of chance at all, and we haven't even started on it. Babe, I'm not quite so eager to die as you are. At least wait until I've had time to teach the others this one maneuver. You can't protect the baryon reverter without it."
"Are you telling me the truth?"
"Damn right I am. You have to know how to perform the invitational."
"Invitational? That is the name of the maneuver?"
"Yes." Kirk had just made it up. "It's a way of luring your opponent into an unfavorable position."
She thought about it. "Very well. You have slightly less than twenty hours."
"That's not enough time!"
"It will have to be. If we do not leave for the Beta Castelli system in twenty hours, we will not be able to get in close enough to use the baryon reverter. The reverter's range is not infinite."
"I see." Kirk mulled that over. "Where did you get that figure of twenty hours? How do you know how long we have left?"
"I asked Orangejuiceandwodka to plot a course to the Beta Castelli system and estimate a time of arrival."
Kirk nodded. "Well, Chekov says he'd trust her navigating."
"We are wasting time. Come. Let us learn the invitational maneuver."
Kirk rather apologetically put his helmet back on. "Sorry, Babe, but I don't think I'm ready for more than one of you at a time yet."
"It does not matter. We will return to the bridge now."
"Yes, now."
And now he knew what he was going to have to do.