THE STARSHIP TRAP

Chapter One

Captain James t. Kirk said, "The thing
I like most about this job is that I'm never bored."
He took a sip of the food replicator
memory bank version of coffee and watched the two
men who sat near him--Mr. Spock (his
Vulcan first name was unpronounceable by humans)
and Dr. Leonard McCoy.
The Starship Enterprise, presently moored
to Starbase 23 by a light tractor beam, was
manned by a relaxed and somewhat tired skeleton
crew. Most of them were enjoying Starbase 23's
limited but welcome opportunities for
entertainment.
Captain Kirk was among the few crew
members left aboard. He felt entitled
to make the command decision that for the moment, even taking
shore leave was too much trouble. Kirk assumed
that his first officer and his chief medical officer
felt the same way, or they would not have been there.
They were taking their ease at a table in the part
of the Deck 6 rec room that was designated as
officers' country. Except for the fact that the
tables were somewhat closer to the intercom and to the food
slots than the tables of the enlisted personnel,
officers' country was not very different from the rest of the
compartment.
While Spock and McCoy considered
Kirk's statement he pondered further on why
he and his friends had gathered there instead of joining the
shore parties on Starbase 23. None of them were
prone to avoid an activity merely because doing it
involved taking action. Some other factor was at
work in this case.
One factor was the pleasure Kirk felt in
marking time among the sounds, smells, and energies
where a great deal of concentration and responsibility
was normally demanded of him. However, he finally
decided the real reason they were all still there was that
none of them gave up responsibility easily,
and they felt obligated to stay close to their stations
even when their stations did not need them.
Spock was considering Kirk's statement--
seriously, as usual. Though--or perhaps because--his
intelligence was well off the scale in human
terms, he had little capacity for small talk.
McCoy, on the other hand, was always ready for a
friendly scrap. "Personally," he said
gruffly--McCoy often spoke gruffly--?af
what we've been through, I look forward to a little
boredom." Like Kirk, McCoy was drinking
coffee. Spock preferred an obscure blend
of Vulcan tea, also with a name unpronounceable
by humans.
Spock said, "Just as I do not understand the human
tendency to use up great quantities of energy
when supposedly resting on vacation, I do not
understand the occasional human desire for a lack of
mental stimulation."
"You understand it all right, Spock," McCoy
said. "But when you do it, you call it meditating."
Spock was long past being offended by anything
McCoy said, but he sometimes allowed himself to be
baited for the entertainment value of the discussion.
Kirk listened with only half an ear while
Spock explained meditation and its applications
to Vulcan philosophy.
The bosun's whistle sounded, and a female
voice came over the intercom. "Bridge
to Captain Kirk."
Spock stopped speaking. As he crossed the
compartment to the intercom Kirk felt his
dissatisfaction growing. He was miffed at having
been interrupted at doing not much of anything at
all. He hit the button and said, "Yes,
Ensign--Miraskin, is it?"
"Yes, sir. Is that you, Captain?"
Kirk wondered where these off-watch kids came
from. Gently he said, "Yes, Ensign, it's
me. What's the problem?"
"An emergency message has just arrived from
Starfleet."
Kirk covered the intercom grid with one hand and
said to Spock and McCoy, "Probably an
admiral with a hangnail." Into the intercom he
said, "Read it to me."
"I can't, sir. It's Eyes Only."
"Damn."
"What was that, sir?"
"Nothing, Ensign. Send it to my cabin.
Kirk out." He punched the button again and
turned to shrug at Spock and McCoy. "What
can I do? Starfleet can't get along without me."
"Let me know if you need any help with that
hangnail," McCoy called after him as the
door shushed closed.
The corridor was silent but for the hiss of the air
circulators and his own footsteps. Even
the constant thrum of the engines was absent. Scotty
had shut them down so they could be checked and tuned.
He had wanted to do the checking and tuning himself, but
McCoy had forced him to take shore leave
by threatening to impose a one-month medical leave
during which time Scotty would not be allowed to touch an
engine.
As he walked Kirk felt the immense size
and mass of his ship pressing in on him, squeezing
the mechanical artery through which he moved. He did
not feel this way often; normally the ship was more an
extension of himself than a big machine. But
empty, drawing its power from a starbase, its
self-sufficiency momentarily gone, everything
spiritual about the Enterprise was different. Kirk
smiled. Did the ship have a spirit? He would like
to see Spock and McCoy argue that one.
Kirk got to his cabin without meeting
anybody. Inside he hurriedly sat at his
desk and punched his private security code
into the intercom console. The Starfleet insignia
came up on the screen and then a request that he
further identify himself. While he waited for the
machine to read his retinal pattern he wondered
what this was all about. If he needed to go through all
this rigmarole, it must be something important.
Curiosity gnawed at him until the machine said
"Thank you" and the message came up at last.
A Starfleet officer Kirk didn't know
looked out at him. He was very thin and had an
immense bush of black hair that covered not only
the top of his head but his forehead as well. Perhaps
he wasn't entirely human. No matter. In
a nervous voice the man said, "I am
Lieutenant Lungo. Admiral Nogura
has asked me to give you the following orders.
Please proceed soonest to Pegasus IV,
where you are to follow without question the instructions of
Conrad Franklin Kent or his
representative."
"We've been on patrol for months,
Lieutenant. My people deserve a little R and
R. What's this all about?"
Lungo looked at something offscreen and then
smiled at Kirk without sincerity. What the hell
was going on here? Kirk wondered. Why had
Nogura sent this nervous lieutenant instead of
speaking with Kirk himself? Lungo said, "I'm
sorry, Captain. That is all the information I
have." The screen went blank. End of
discussion.
Kirk drummed his fingers in frustration on the
desk. His people were tired. Dammit, he was
tired. The crew of the Enterprise deserved a
rest. Still, when duty called Kirk could do nothing
but answer it. Nogura had not become a
Starfleet admiral by acting capriciously.
The thing that upset Kirk the most was the identity
of his prospective passenger. He had heard of
Conrad Franklin Kent--who in the Federation
hadn't? Kent was a senior member of the Federation
Council with unconcealed ambitions for the
presidency. And Kent was no friend of Starfleet.
At the least provocation he would assure anyone
in earshot that Starfleet was an outmoded,
warmongering, self-serving institution full of
half-bright egomaniacs. Kirk had no use for
him, but Kent obviously had friends in high
places. The urgency of the order meant that Kent
had probably gotten himself into trouble that Kirk
would be required to get him out of. And Kent would
certainly not be grateful. Kirk shook his head.
Orders were orders, but he didn't have to like them.
Kirk hit the intercom button, and the face of
Ensign Miraskin filled the screen. She was a
young, dark-haired woman with strong cheekbones and a
jaw like a lantern. Uhura was probably doing
her a favor by giving her bridge experience.
Kirk ordered her to recall all personnel;
they were to prepare for immediate departure. He made
particular reference to Mr. Scott, who should be
delighted, Kirk felt, that it was necessary for him
to start the engines.
Aboard shuttles and by transporter beams they
came. Grumbling and cursing they came. Quickly
the mixture of men, women, and aliens filled the
ship like a multicolored fluid red shirts for
engineering and support services, blue shirts
for the sciences, and gold shirts for command. The
members of the crew took their stations, still
grumbling, but with absolute competence and
reliability.
As the ship filled, Kirk's mood improved
because the Enterprise felt more and more like herself.
Crew members hurried through the increasingly
crowded corridors, each engrossed in his or her
small part of the business of running a starship.
Mr. Scott's engines maintained a constant
bass note.

In less than one day ship's time, when everyone
was at a station and the Enterprise was ready for
travel, Kirk stood next to his command chair
and spoke to his crew over the intercom. He
said, "This is the captain speaking. I understand that
some of you are not very happy about having your shore
leave cut short. The truth is, I'm not very
happy about it myself." When he noticed Spock
watching him, Spock quickly peered into his
library viewer. Kirk went on, "But we have a
job to do, and I expect that each of you will be
equal to the task. Kirk out."
Shortly they were on their way to Pegasus
IV at warp six, and no one had much to do till
they arrived. Kirk had no idea what Kent's
problem was, so there was no way for him to prepare
for that. But Spock was helpful filling in
details about Pegasus IV.
Spock pulled the receiver from his ear and said,
"Pegasus IV is a warm place by human
standards, with a mean daytime temperature in the
temperate zones of thirty-seven degrees
Celsius. The atmosphere is barely
breathable, being full of ash, andof chemicals that on
Earth are found only in laboratories. The
surface is mostly rock. I understand that
natural weathering by the corrosive wind and
volcanic activity has carved some of it
into sculptures that are quite beautiful."
Kirk smiled and said, "I doubt if Mr.
Kent is there for the scenery, Mr. Spock."
"Indeed not, Captain. The natives of
Pegasus IV are also quite interesting. They are
known as G'lops, and they are well adapted to their
geologically active planet. Each of them
seems to be no more than a quantity of brightly
colored mud bubbling in its own small crater.
Early survey teams established that the G'lops
were intelligent, though measured on an entirely
different scale from humanoids."
"So Kent is there looking for political
talent."
"Possible, Captain, but unlikely.
Pegasus IV is not yet a member of the
Federation. Its natives cannot sit on the council
because they are not citizens."
Spock claimed that Vulcans neither bluffed
nor lied. Yet Kirk always found it amazing that
Spock could say things like that with a straight face.
He suspected a Vulcan sense of
humor, or at least a sense of the ridiculous.
Spock denied understanding either one except as an
intellectual concept. Kirk said, "My
mistake, Mr. Spock. Why is he there?"
"I believe he is interested in the mineral
rights. According to surveys, the planet is well
over ten percent daystromite."
So that's what prevented Pegasus IV from
remaining a footnote in galactic history.
Daystromite was a crystal used in the
transtator, the fundamental component in almost every
piece of Federation technology. A thought chilled
Kirk. He said, "A find like that should bring the
Klingons out of the woodwork. Could that be Mr.
Kent's problem?"
"Possibly. Klingon warships have been
detected at the edge of this sector."
Kirk turned away from Spock and said,
"Uhura, see if you can raise anybody on
Pegasus IV. If there are Klingons around,
I don't want to be the last to know."
"Aye, Captain." Kirk barely had time
to return to his command chair and sit down before
Uhura said, "I've contacted a Dr.
Brewster, the supervisor of the team on
Pegasus IV."
"On screen."
The starfield on the main viewscreen rippled
and was replaced by what appeared to be a small
boulder. It stood against an angry red sky that
roiled over stages and pedestals of cracked and
blasted rock all the way to the far horizon. In
a surprisingly sweet voice the boulder said,
"I am Dr. Brewster."
It was a horta, of course. Who else but a
rock creature would the Federation send out to speak with
pools of intelligent mud? "This is James
t. Kirk, captain of the Starship
Enterprise. What is your status?"
"Status, Captain?"
"Does a state of emergency exist? Are you
in any danger? From Klingons, for example."
"We are in no danger. We are progressing
nicely with the G'lops."
Curiouser and curiouser. "What about Mr.
Kent?"
"Mr. Kent and party are fine, too. He
has been most emphatic about leaving. Are you,
perhaps, here to assist him?"
The horta actually sounded eager.
Evidently Mr. Kent was spreading sunshine
wherever he went. Kirk said, "Can I speak with
Mr. Kent?"
"Of course." With a sound of stone against gravel
Dr. Brewster slid out of range of the
subspace radio. In a moment a human took
his place. The human wore a breather, a
semipermeable membrane that was nearly invisible
over his face. He was a big man who had
obviously been a guest at too many formal
dinners and did most of his work sitting down. His
white hair was piled like tiny feathers on his head
and fell over his ears. He wore a
diplomat's gray jumpsuit with the Federation
insignia on one shoulder.
Kent nodded at Kirk and said, "I am
Conrad Franklin Kent, sir. You must be our
ride to Starbase 12."
Ride to Starbase 12? Had the Enterprise
actually been dragged away from a well-deserved
rest in order to haul this politician to his
next whistle stop? No wonder Nogura
wouldn't speak to Kirk personally. The old
campaigner was probably embarrassed as hell.
Kirk said, "In a manner of speaking, sir,
I suppose that's true. I am Captain
James Kirk of the Federation Starship
Enterprise. We were on leave when--"
Kent smiled and said, "I know who you are.
Payton, my aide, specifically requested the
Enterprise to transport us."
Kent was a very smooth customer, which immediately put
Kirk off. For one thing, though Kirk could be
smooth himself when it seemed called for, he
preferred sincerity to snake oil. For another
thing, Kirk had never fancied himself a taxi
driver. He said, "Surely the Enterprise was
not the only ship available to you."
"I'm sorry, Captain, but Payton
generally gets what she wants."
This was maddening, to have been dragged screaming and
kicking away from Starbase 23 at the whim of some
spoiled civilian! And not even by the man himself,
but by his assistant! Kirk attempted to contain
his anger. Considering Kent's attitude toward
Starfleet, the fact that he'd disturbed one of its
officers might be a great source of pleasure
to him. Kirk said, "Mr. Sulu, what is our
ETA at Pegasus IV?"
"Eight hours, fourteen minutes,
sir."
Brusquely Kirk said to Kent, "We will
arrive in eight hours. Please see that you and your
party are ready to leave at that time. Kirk out."
He flicked a hand signal at Uhura, and she
ended the transmission.
Spock said, "Anger is illogical,
Captain."
"Perhaps, Spock. But sometimes it's all you
have."

Eight hours and fourteen minutes later the
Enterprise made standard orbit around
Pegasus IV. From space it was an angry
ball that matched Kirk's mood exactly.
Spock reported no Klingons within sensor
range. All seemed well, except for the fact
that the Enterprise was there at all.
Kirk and Spock went to the transporter
room to welcome Kent and party. "Though,"
Kirk said, "that does seem to be beyond the scope
of our orders."
Mr. Scott glanced in their direction and
tried to hide a smile. ^w about why leave had
been cut short had gotten around the ship. Mr.
Kent and party were not popular aboard the
Enterprise.
"I would advise you to restrain your
disapproval, Captain," said Spock. "A
man such as Kent is already inclined to think the worst
of Starfleet. Rudeness will not improve the
situation."
Spock was undoubtedly correct, and yet
Kirk could not help wondering if Spock hadn't
been contemplating a little rudeness himself. After
all, .his leave had been interrupted, too. With a
straight face Kirk said, "I would never go so
far as to be rude, Mr. Spock." One of
Spock's eyebrows rose, indicating that while
he did not exactly believe Kirk, he was
willing to accept the captain's statement for
harmony's sake.
"Mr. Kent and party signal ready."
Kirk had a here-we-g feeling when he said,
"Beam them aboard, Mr. Scott."
The air above the transporter stage fizzed,
and a moment later two people descended to the floor of the
transporter room. One, with his hand outstretched
in greeting, was Conrad Franklin Kent. The
other was a stunning dark-haired woman who
stood to one side. She was dressed in much the
same way as Kent, with the addition of a shapeless
lump of a hat on her head.
Kirk perked up right away. Though he did not
like Kent, he approved of Kent's taste in
associates. Could this be the famous Payton, the
one who'd actually arranged to have the Enterprise
travel to Pegasus IV?
Kirk introduced himself and Mr. Spock as
they shook hands all around. The woman was in fact
Kent's senior aide, Hazel Payton.
Kirk smiled at Payton and said, "You must
be "and party."'"
"What?"
"As in Conrad Franklin Kent "and
party."'"
She studied Kirk for a moment with cool
disbelief. Kirk wondered if perhaps he'd laid
on the charm a little thick. The question was, why was he
laying on the charm at all? This woman worked for a
political enemy of Starfleet, and she had been
responsible for giving Kirk one of the sorriest
assignments of his career. He clapped his hands
together once and said, "Allow me to show you to your
cabins. Mr. Scott, call the bridge and have
Mr. Sulu make best speed for Starbase
12."
"Aye, Captain."
They walked to the turbolift in pairs,
Kirk and Kent leading Spock and Payton.
Spock said to Kent, "I am most interested to know
your impressions of the work being done on Pegasus
IV."
Seriously, almost conspiratorially, Kent
explained. "As Brewster said, it's progressing
nicely. But I never would have known it if I'd
stayed on Earth. I grew impatient with the
vagueness of the reports I was getting, so I
went to take a look-see for myself. Payton
set the whole thing up."
"She seems to do that a lot," Kirk said.
He glanced back at her. She seemed to remain
unaffected by the fact that they were talking about her.
Kent looked at Kirk quizzically and made
a single breathy laugh. "Has she rubbed you the
wrong way, Captain?"
"Perhaps not rubbed," Kirk said cautiously.
"I warn you, Captain. Hazel Payton
is a woman who gets the job done. Her
ethics are occasionally called into question, but
never her results. Isn't that right, Ms.
Payton?"
"I do my best, sir."
Kirk said, "As long as everyone remembers
whose ship this is."
"We are civilians, Captain. Starfleet
bluster will not avail you."
Before Kirk could think of a brilliant
rejoinder he would try to be sorry for later,
Spock said, "Our destination is Starbase 12.
I know of nothing there that merits a
"look-see."'"
T hey waited at the end of the corridor for a few
seconds, and then the turbolift came. They
stepped inside, Kirk said, "Deck 5," and it
rose. No one spoke. Kirk didn't like
Payton or her boss. He didn't like being a
messenger boy. And he didn't care why they were
going to Starbase 12. He wanted only to get
there safely, beam over his passengers, and go about
his business.
On Deck 5 Kirk decided that as angry
as he was, he could not entirely ignore his
responsibilities as host. "There are
observation windows in the lounge, as well as food
replicator slots. There are also food slots
in each of your cabins."
"We are familiar with starship geography,"
Payton said.
Kirk took a deep breath and let it out
slowly. He said, "Here are your cabins. If
they're not satisfactory, let Mr. Spock
or me know, and we'll try to remedy the problem."
"I'm sure they're the best you have," Kent
said. He looked warily in through the open
doorway, as if expecting to share the cabin with a
wild animal.
Kirk smiled without heat and escaped as quickly
as he could with Mr. Spock at his side. In the
turbolift Spock said, "Mr. Kent did not
respond regarding Starbase 12."
"As far as he is concerned, that is probably
not Starfleet business. And perhaps he's right."
"Perhaps." Spock clasped his hands behind his
back and gazed at the turbolift doors.
Kirk knew Spock was thinking hard about something.
He trusted Spock to tell him what it was when the
time was right.


Not an hour later Kirk was on the bridge
wondering if he and his passengers would survive the
next three days. Personally, he intended to have as
little as possible to do with them. Not even Payton, as
beautiful as she was, was worth the trouble of
getting to know better. He decided he could handle
three days, but he was glad that the trip
to Starbase 12 was not longer.
A yeoman brought Kirk a memoboard with a
message on it from Hazel Payton. According to the
message, he and his senior staff were invited to a
reception for Conrad Franklin Kent, to be
held that evening in the Deck 5 officers'
lounge. The woman was insufferable!
Kirk's first impulse was to forbid the
reception, but on further reflection he could think
of no good reason it should not happen. Kent had
warned him that Payton's methods were
unorthodox. If this was the worst she could
do--throwing an unauthorized party--Kirk had little
to worry about. Maybe if he was charming enough, it
would have a positive effect on Kent. The
attempt could not hurt.
Mr. Spock said, "Anything wrong,
Captain?"
"Not at all, Mr. Spock. We've been
invited to a reception for Conrad Franklin
Kent."
"Indeed?"
"Meaning?"
"Nothing at all, Captain. I was merely
acknowledging that I'd heard you."
Kirk nodded. Perhaps not knowing why Kent and party
were going to Starbase 12 bothered him more than he
liked to admit. He'd hoped that Spock had
somehow deduced an answer. Evidently Spock
had not. Not yet.
"Captain," Sulu said, "I'm picking up
a craft at extreme sensor range."
"Identify," said Kirk.
Spock began touching controls on his board.
He looked into the blue light of his readout and
said, "Identification difficult at this range,
Captain, but it appears to be a single Klingon
vessel."
"Go to yellow alert," Kirk ordered, and the
Klaxon sounded. McCoy was wrong. The
excitement he felt in his veins was preferable
to boredom anytime.

Chapter Two

As dangerous as they were, Kirk preferred
Klingons to Federation council members who had an
inflated view of their own importance. You always
knew where you stood with a Klingon. Whereas a
politician was, at best, unpredictable.
Sulu said, "Klingon vessel now at
sublight. Five hundred thousand kilometers and
closing."
"Tactical," Kirk called.
The stars on the main viewscreen wavered and were
replaced by a computer-generated chart showing the
relative positions of the Enterprise, the
Klingon ship, and the nearest major natural
bodies.
If there had been more than one Klingon ship,
Kirk would have assumed that the Enterprise was under
attack and would soon be embroiled in battle.
But a single Klingon ship could mean anything, and
Kirk did not want to be the one to fire the first
shot if firing was not necessary.
"Sensors, Mr. Spock."
"From the little we know about Klingon engineering, power
curves indicate the ship is apparently in
normal running mode. Only navigational
shields are in use, no power to weapons."
"That's good news." Kirk rubbed his chin and
wondered what was going on. These Klingons wanted
something, and if it wasn't a fight, what was it?
He could ask Spock for an opinion, but
undoubtedly Spock would tell him that data was
insufficient to allow speculation.
Someone came onto the bridge, but, engrossed
as he was in the tactical display, Kirk did not
pay attention.
"What is the meaning of this, Kirk? Why are
we under yellow alert?"
At the sound of Kent's voice Kirk became
angry. He said, "I don't have time to explain
now."
"I insist. Are we under attack?"
Kirk shot Kent a hard stare and saw that
Payton stood next to him. He said, "Get
off my bridge," but he didn't take time
to enjoy the surprised expression on Kent's
face. Kirk turned his attention back to the
viewscreen.
Uhura said, "We're being hailed by the
Klingon ship, sir."
Kirk swallowed hard and said, "On screen,
Lieutenant."
The tactical display was replaced by a
Klingon who had a long, thin nose and a spot of
beard that barely covered his chin. Kirk had seen
Klingons smile--generally at someone else's
expense--but this one was not doing it. Angrily he
said, "I am Torm, commander of the Klingon warship
Kormak."
Kirk stood up and introduced himself. His
body was tensed and ready for a fight, as if he were
meeting Torm in the flesh instead of seeing him through
a device that allowed them to talk tough at each
other while many thousands of kilometers apart. Behind
him Kent said, "Captain."
Damn, Kirk thought, the man was still there. Could
Kent be what the Klingons wanted? If he
was, and if they knew where to get him, their
intelligence reports were terrifyingly accurate
and up-to-date. But it was too early to worry
about any of that. All this flashed through Kirk's
mind while he blinked once.
Kirk said, "This is Federation space,
Torm. What do you want?"
"Your pretense of innocence is not convincing,
Kirk. We want our ships back."
"Back? Back from where?"
"From wherever your Earthers have taken them!" Torm
shouted nastily.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Our ships are disappearing without a trace,
Kirk. Who but the Federation has both the
technology and the desire to do such a thing?"
Kirk glanced at Spock, who shook his
head. The Klingon commander obviously had a
problem--which was no skin off Kirk's nose--and it
was a relief to discover that it had nothing to do with
Conrad Franklin Kent. Perhaps the Klingon's
spy network was no better than the Federation's after
all. "It's a big galaxy, Torm. The
Klingons must have many enemies. If the Federation
had declared war on the Klingon Empire, I would
know about it."
"Captain," Kent said, and he stepped down
to where Kirk stood. While Torm studied them
through narrow eyes Kent whispered belligerently,
"You hot-shots in Starfleet think you're the
only ones capable of dealing with Klingons. I
believe that a little common sense and understanding will go a
lot further than phasers and photon
torpedoes."
He had to admire Kent's courage, but that
did not prevent Kirk from considering him a
first-rate ass. In Kirk's experience,
Klingons understood nothing but phasers and photon
torpedoes. He answered, also in a whisper,
"Please allow the professionals to handle this."
He turned back to Torm, opened his mouth to deny
the allegation once again, and found Kent speaking
already.
Kent said, "We admit nothing about the
weapon."
"I knew it," Torm said.
As if it were actually receding into the distance,
Kirk saw the situation getting away from him.
He wondered wildly if he should follow
Kent's lead. The man's ^ws would have the
Klingons spending time and energy looking for a new
Federation weapon that didn't even exist. That had
a certain appeal, but Kirk wasn't convinced that
the situation had yet become dire enough to justify
lying. Bess--and it was a big besides--if the
Klingons believed the Federation had attacked their
ships, with a new weapon or no, they had a right
to believe a state of war existed, and to act
accordingly. Kent was putting the Enterprise in
danger with his bluster.
Kent was obviously not going to cooperate with
Kirk, yet it was necessary to show a unified front.
Kirk was forced to be the adult. He said, "As
I said before, you're in Federation space. You'd
better leave before somebody drops a house on
you, too."
"House?" asked Torm. "Drops a
house?"
"An old Earther expression," Kirk said
offhandedly. Behind him he heard Uhura chuckling.
"End transmission, Lieutenant."
The screen returned to the tactical display.
"View forward," Kirk said.
On the viewscreen the looming cobra form of the
Kormak obstructed the stars for a moment and then
shot away, impulse engines glowing. Kirk
canceled the yellow alert.
"Well, Captain," said Kent, "I'm
pleased that you saw fit to come around at last."
Kirk turned to Kent and glared directly
into his eyes. With menace he said, "I don't
care who you are, Mr. Kent, or how well
you're connected. If ever again you enter my
bridge without being invited, I will clap you in
irons. Is that clear?"
Payton was still standing at the turbolift door.
She said, "It's clear that you haven't the
capacity to be grateful."
Kirk saw the smile playing around Kent's
lips when he said, "Very well, Captain. I will
tolerate your order for now." He and Payton
turned to leave.
Kirk said, "A moment, Mr. Kent."
"What now, Captain? Is there another part
of the ship you'd care to bar me from?"
"I hope the bridge will be sufficient.
Tell me about the weapon about which you admit
nothing."
Kent laughed so hard he could not speak. When
he was done, he said, "There is no weapon. It
is entirely a figment of my imagination."
Spock said, "Captain Torm claims that
Klingon ships are disappearing."
"The fact that the Klingons cannot keep track of
their ships is neither my problem nor
Starfleet's."
Kirk said, "It is Starfleet's problem if
the Klingons believe Starfleet is
responsible."
Kent seemed stunned by Kirk's remark. But
he recovered and said, "I assure you,
Captain, that the situation you fear can be avoided
using normal diplomatic channels."
"I have no great faith in diplomacy where
Klingons are involved, but I hope for all of
our sakes that you are right."
"Yes, yes, Captain," Kent said
impatiently. "Is there anything else before I
leave your bridge forever?"
Kirk had a few suggestions, but none of them
were either suitable for the bridge or practical.
He said, "Thank you for your help, Mr.
Kent." Kirk looked at Mr. Sulu and said,
"Resume course to Starbase 12."
"Aye, Captain."
As Kirk sat down in his command chair Kent and
Payton left the bridge. Soon Spock
came down to stand at his side. He said,
"Captain, I know of no Earth proverb concerning
the dropping of houses."
Kirk smiled and said, "Tell him,
Uhura."
"It's not a proverb, Mr. Spock.
The captain was referring to a classic children's
novel called The Wizard of Oz. In it the
heroine arrives in a fantasy world aboard her
farmhouse, which falls out of the sky onto a wicked
witch."
"Fascinating," Spock said with amazement.
"I believe it is based on a Russian
fairy tale," Chekov said thoughtfully. "It
concerns a tractor falling out of the sky onto an
evil commissar."
"The text is available in the ship's memory
banks," Uhura said.
"Thank you, Lieutenant. I will view it at
my earliest opportunity."
Spock was about to return to his station when
Kirk asked him, "Are Klingon ships really
disappearing?"
"Information on the Klingon fleet is
extremely fragmentary. But it is difficult
to see how the Klingons would benefit by claiming such
a thing if it were not so."
"In that case, their question is a good one. If the
Federation is not responsible, then who?"
"Unknown, Captain. But the possibilities
are intriguing."
"A little too intriguing for my taste,
Spock. Whatever it is, it's obviously a
force to be reckoned with. I hope that when our time
comes we make out better than the Klingons."
Spock said nothing. At the moment there was nothing
to say.
Kirk shook his head. "I can't help feeling
that Conrad Franklin Kent knows more than he is
telling about all this."
"He certainly attempted to convey that
impression to the Klingons."
Kirk disliked the possibility that Kent was being
more truthful to the Klingons than to him. He said,
"Uhura, contact Starfleet Command. Give them
a full report on our contact with the Kormak
and request current information on the disappearance of
Klingon vessels. Send it tight beam and
scramble."
"Aye, Captain."
"The answer should be most enlightening," Spock
said.
"I hope so, Spock. I hope so."

Kent was in his cabin preparing for the reception when
a chime announced the presence of someone
at his door. His visitor was Hazel
Payton, now dressed in a personal energy
field that sparkled, revealing more or less of her
as she moved. The field flowed from a button
clinging to her left shoulder. In her hair was a
peculiar jeweled accessory.
"I see," Kent said, "that you are dressed
to meet and beguile the enemy."
"As far as I know," Payton said, "there will be
no Klingons at this reception."
"No Klingons, no." With one finger he pushed
around some decorative pins held in a small
box.
"Kirk isn't our enemy, Conrad."
"He is Starfleet. Just like that young man of
yours on Starbase 12. Starfleet is an even
more insidious enemy of the Federation than the Klingons
because they have fooled so many into supporting them." He
lifted a simple pearl pin from the box and
pressed it into the center of the white triangle of
pleats that showed above his gray coat.
"Which is why you feel it commendable to cooperate
with Professor Omen."
"Not just commendable, but necessary."
"Meanwhile--"
"Meanwhile," Kent said, "we have a reception
to attend."
"That's actually the reason I'm here, Conrad.
I came to see if you were ready for our grand
entrance."
Kent nodded and said, "We've been all through this
before, anyway." He picked up a tall glass
from a side table. In it was a blue liquid with
red bubbles that trailed to the surface and broke,
releasing a scent of cinnamon. "Very clever of
you," Kent said, "to arrange our meeting with
Professor Omen on Starbase 12." He
sipped, then smacked his lips once.
Payton shrugged. "You said yourself I'm a
woman who gets things done."
"I say it because it's true. Which is why I
keep you around despite your regrettable
politics."
"My falling in love with a Starfleet officer
is not a political statement."
"So you've said." He took another sip of the
blue liquid, put down the glass, and asked for
his cape.
Payton shook her head as she smiled
ruefully and lifted the short black
cape from the back of a chair. She draped it across
Kent's shoulders, and when she reached around to close
it in the front Kent took her hands tenderly in
his and said, "You know I want only the best for
you."
"I know. But we both sometimes forget that I am
only your aide, not your daughter." She kissed
him on the cheek and then pulled away. "Come on.
We'll be late."

Kirk arrived at the reception a little late,
hoping that Kent and Payton would already be there, but
he was disappointed. He wondered if it was an
accident or a calculated ploy that they would be
the ones who would arrive fashionably late
enough. He smiled at himself; he was thinking like a
politician, not like a Starfleet officer. What
real difference could it possibly make who arrived
when?
Probably at Payton's request, the
Starfleet insignia on the wall had been
covered with an artfully draped cloth. A long
table had been set up at one end of the lounge and
covered with bits of food on trays. Bottles
containing beverages with active ingredients such as
alcohol, kebo, and sabora stood together before a
yeoman from the kitchen staff, looking like an alien
city. The bottles were red, brown, yellow, and
blue. One could get anything from brown bottles
of Bass, a beer made on Earth, to something
called Altairian devil, after the gently
glowing and tentacled life-form that floated alive
inside the twisted green bottle. Kirk had
tried it once and had paid for his experiment by listening
to screams only he could hear for the next day and a
half. Some people liked it. He couldn't imagine
why.
Almost everyone was already there. Spock was talking
with McCoy. They liked to pretend they hated
each other, but, like a bickering married couple,
each would feel incomplete if alone for long.
Their differences of opinion frequently made
Kirk's job easier by allowing him to examine
all sides of an issue before making a decision.
Lieutenant Uhura, head of communications,
was apparently telling a rowdy story
to Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott,
Enterprise's chief engineer, and to Chekov and
Sulu. Chekov was Kirk's first navigator,
and Sulu was the best helmsman in the
fleet. Strictly speaking, neither of them was the
head of a department, but they were frequently
dragooned into service at social functions
to fill out the crowd. Now that Kirk had arrived,
only Kent and Payton were missing.
Kirk got himself a glass of Chablis and
joined Spock and McCoy. "Gentlemen," he
said, and he nodded to them.
McCoy saluted him with a glass that
probably contained something substantial and
southern. "Swell party," he said, "but from the
looks of the guest list, we could have held it on the
bridge."
"The party wasn't my idea. If you don't
like the way it's being run, I suggest you complain
to Ms. Payton."
McCoy grinned and said with admiration, "What
a woman."
"Appearances aren't everything."
"A strange sentiment coming from the man who still
holds the Starfleet Academy record in
certain unofficial competitions."
Spock looked at Kirk inquisitively.
"I was really good at checkers," Kirk said.
He sipped his wine and pointed a finger at
McCoy. "That woman's methods are
unorthodox, to say the least. Look at us,
torn away from our well-deserved leave to ferry
Payton and her boss to Starbase 12. And
look at this party. It's my ship, but this is her
party."
"Unorthodox, huh?" asked McCoy.
"Kind of reminds me of a captain named
Kirk."
"No need to be insulting, Bones."
"Yesterday you might have said I was paying you a
compliment."
"That was yesterday." Kirk knew that he did not
always play by Starfleet rules, but it seemed
to him that he always had a good reason for doing what
he did. As far as he was concerned, Payton's
reasons were open to question. The fact that she worked for
Kent was particularly suspicious in that
respect.
Kirk was about to tell McCoy so when he
became aware that the conversation around them had stopped.
He looked toward the door and saw Kent and
Payton making their entrance. He shook his head;
they were vanity and game-playing personified.
Kirk nodded at them but refused
to greet them at the door. It was Payton's
party; let her greet him. As they strolled around
the room speaking with the other guests Kirk logged and
noted that McCoy had been right about one thing,
anyway. Payton really was a very beautiful
woman.
Casually Kirk said, "Unusual piece of
jewelry in Ms. Payton's hair."
Spock said, "I believe, Captain, that you
are referring to her memory augmentationstcranial
interface."
Kirk tried not to stare. "I've heard of them,
of course, but I've never actually seen one."
The interface allowed a memory chip to be
plugged directly into the brain. The chip would
instantly give one access to a foreign
language, higher mathematics, the rules of
three-dimensional chess--a whole library of
chips was available. Kirk was relieved when he
had learned that one did not necessarily understand the
information on the chip. For instance, one could be
supplied with a chip containing everything Starfleet
knew about being the captain of a Constitution-class
starship. But without training the raw information would be
useless, just as without the proper preparation one could
read a textbook on trigonometry without
understanding it.
"It's a relatively simple surgical
procedure, really," McCoy said. "Come on
down to sickbay some afternoon, Spock, and I'll do
it for you."
"Vulcans do not mutilate themselves in that way.
We prefer to train the mind rather than artificially
enhance it."
"Amazing that you consent to fly through space in
something as artificial as a starship."
"I submit, Doctor, that the situations are
hardly parallel."
McCoy shrugged but continued to smile.
Evidently he felt that he'd won a round.
Spock's expression was unreadable.
While Spock and McCoy had been arguing,
Kirk had been watching Kent and Payton. They
had chosen to drink Saurian brandy, and now they were
joking with Uhura and the others. Evidently Kent
could be quite gracious when it suited him. He
didn't care what opinion Kirk had of him, but
Kent obviously thought it wise to stay friendly with the
staff.
Soon Kent and Payton made an
excuse of some sort and approached Kirk. When
they came within hailing distance Kirk said, "What
a lovely party."
"Yes," said Kent. "Your starship
facilities are surprisingly civilized."
Kirk felt his smile hardening on his face.
He said, "How very kind. We're planning to put
in electricity and running water any day now."
Kent seemed to have been stunned by Kirk's
^ws. Then he laughed heartily and said, "You do
not agree with my views on Starfleet,
Captain, but you must admit that some of my arguments
have merit."
"I admit that you have arguments that seem good to you.
Nothing more."
"Look at the evidence, Kirk. Starfleet
is always fighting with somebody--the Klingons, the
Romulans, some other, less worthy adversary.
Wars of conquest for its own glory are all it
knows."
"I believe," Spock said, "the
preponderance of the evidence would indicate that you are
wrong. Starfleet's reputation as a peacekeeper
is well known."
"Well known to its friends on the council, perhaps,
but I insist--"
"You can insist all you want to,
Councilor," McCoy said, "but I think you have
another reason for criticizing Starfleet."
"What might that be?" Payton asked. Her
smile was icy.
McCoy said, "You're using Starfleet
to give yourself a higher public profile. It's
a documented fact that you're bucking to be
president of the Federation Council."
Good old Bones, Kirk thought rushing in where
diplomats fear to tread. Still, it was probably
just as well that it was McCoy making the suggestion
instead of Kirk himself. Being more visible, captains
were much more vulnerable to political attack than were
doctors. If Kent wanted to get tough,
Kirk could lose his ship; McCoy could lose
little, no matter that he'd made an enemy of some
blowhard councilor.
Kent frowned and Payton looked at him
expectantly. Did Kirk notice the
smallest smile--a real smile this time--at her
lips? She was enjoying Kent's discomfort as much as
McCoy was. If she was not the enemy of
Starfleet that Kent was, perhaps Kirk
could find it in his heart to be interested in her after
all.
"Very good, Doctor," Spock whispered. "I
am quite surprised at your knowledge of current events."
"You're not the only one around here who reads,"
McCoy whispered back.
Kent said, "My interest in the presidency
does not invalidate my interest in Starfleet,
does it, Doctor?" Kirk was amazed how noble
Kent could appear.
"Of course not," said McCoy. "But if you
want a real cause, an important cause,
I'd advise you to stop hurling brickbats at
Starfleet and take on the medical
establishment."
"Is that so?" Kent asked.
"It is. [ you aware that the methods the
Starfleet Medical Corps uses to approve
new drugs and medical techniques haven't
been updated in over twenty-five years?"
"No, I wasn't." Kent seemed to give the
matter real thought.
"You know as well as I do that Starfleet is
an instrument of civilization, and that without it the
Klingons would be all over us like a cheap suit.
I know that medical approval is not the flashy
cause the death of Starfleet is, but it is
considerably more worthwhile."
"Thank you for your suggestion, Doctor. I will
consider it."
After that Kent went to speak with Uhura, and
Chekov tried to monopolize Payton. But when
he saw that Kirk also had an interest Chekov
backed off and got into the discussion of the experimental
transwarp drive that Scotty was having with
Sulu.
Kirk smiled and said, "Can I get you another
drink, Ms. Payton?"
"No, thank you, Captain. I find that a little
Saurian brandy goes a long way."
Kirk nodded and watched his people mix. He had the
best crew in the fleet, no question about it. Without
them the miracles he was sometimes accused of performing
would have been impossible for anyone. He looked
back at her and said, "I've never seen a
cranial interface worn with such style."
"Thank you, Captain."
"Would it be impolite of me to ask what kind
of chip you have in at the moment?"
"It would, but since I have nothing
to hide, I'll tell you that it is merely a
sensory enhancer and pickup. I am making a
record of Mr. Kent's activities for his own
private use. Everything I see and hear is
recorded by equipment back in my cabin. I can
make index marks on the recording by thinking of
special codes."
"I'm sure that Mr. Spock would be
impressed by your mental discipline. Do you
expect something of interest to happen at this
reception?"
"One never knows. In any case, recording
Mr. Kent's activities is standard operating
procedure."
"The recording of civilian logs is not
standard operating procedure on the Enterprise,
Ms. Payton."
"I assure you, Captain, that Mr. Kent and
I have full Starfleet clearance to operate in this
way."
"You do not yet have my clearance. Please see
that you limit your recording to public parts of the
ship and to activities in your own cabins."
"Of course, sir."
The conversational temperature had fallen many
degrees since Kirk had mentioned the interface.
In an attempt to raise it again he said, "So
how long have you and Mr. Kent been together?"
After thinking for a moment, Payton said, "Four
--no, five years."
"You make quite a team."
"We each have a job to do."
"And yours is to get the job done."
A smile broke through Payton's composure,
and she and Kirk had a little laugh together.
After a moment Kirk asked, "Do you agree with
his views on Starfleet?"
Kirk saw the small opening he'd made
vanish. Stiffly Payton said, "My views
are of absolutely no importance to anyone but
me, Captain. I am not a member of the
Federation Council."
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was a
touchy subject."
"Not touchy, Captain, but I resent anyone
trying to pry Mr. Kent and me apart. If you will
excuse me ..." She strode across the room and,
to Chekov's delight, began to speak with him.
McCoy wandered over and asked, "Any luck,
Jim?"
"She's a woman with a lot of spirit," Kirk
admitted.
They both drank. And then McCoy said,
"What's the ^w on the Klingons?"
"^w?"
"The scuttlebutt around the ship is that you
saved us by performing another miracle. Imagine
two of us miracle workers aboard the same
ship."
"I don't know about your miracles, Bones,
but in my case we were lucky. The Klingon
captain preferred to go home and report a new
Federation secret weapon rather than fight."
"What new secret weapon?"
"The one that's been destroying Klingon ships in
this sector. Without coming right out and saying it, Kent
gave the Klingons the idea we're responsible.
He says it's just a story he made up."
"If I were the suspicious type, I'd be
suspicious of a claim like that."
Kirk nodded. "He may have been telling me
a big story just for effect, too. We were both
pretty angry. This may be a good time to ask him
about it again. I might not get an answer from
Starfleet for days." He glanced in Kent's
direction and saw him laughing as he listened
to Uhura speak. Maybe Uhura should ask the
question. Kent was not the first man to be fascinated
by her.
He and McCoy went over to listen to the end of
Uhura's story. Kirk had heard it before. It
concerned a communications officer na med Eliot who
mistook the claw-clackings of crustaceans on
Prufrock's World for enemy code.
When Kent finished laughing Kirk said, "I'm
sorry if I seemed, er, impatient this afternoon
on the bridge."
"No, no, Captain. I'm the one who should
apologize. I understand how nervous you must get with
strangers watching you."
Kirk said, "It's not--"
McCoy interrupted, saying, "I believe you
had a question for Mr. Kent, Captain." McCoy
rocked innocently on his toes.
McCoy was right, of course. Another angry
scene would do none of them any good. Kirk got
hold of himself and said, "Indeed I have, Doctor.
Mr. Kent, this afternoon you told me the notion of a
secret weapon was just a story for the Klingons, but
I can't help but wonder if something more is
going on."
"You wish me to answer here, Captain? Now?"
"Unless you have some reason not to answer here and
now."
"Of course not. Let me only suggest that you
ask Professor Omen about your suspicions."
Kirk and McCoy were both surprised by that
answer. Kirk asked, "Professor Omen?
The Federation scientist who led the team that
developed the latest generation of starship
weaponry?"
"The same."
"Why ask Omen?" Kirk asked. "Is he
responsible for the disappearances?"
Kent said, "Omen is the weapons expert,
isn't he? If the Federation is making Klingon
ships disappear, he'd be the man who would know about
it."
"Then there is a weapon," Kirk said.
"I didn't say that."
Kent was very annoying. Kirk said, "You're
playing with me, Mr. Kent. If this thing is
secret, say the ^w, and I'm through asking questions.
If it's your own invention, we can all have a good
laugh at my expense and hope that, as you insist,
the Klingons can be persuaded not to believe the
Federation has attacked them. But I dislike being
purposely misled."
"Ask Professor Omen."
"I am not likely to run into Professor
Omen out here."
"Not out here, Captain." Kent smiled. "At
Starbase 12. And the Professor will have a little
assignment for you."

Chapter Three

"What sort of little assignment?" Kirk
asked.
"Professor Omen will tell you."
"I don't like games, Mr. Kent."
"Then don't play them with me, Kirk.
You've sailed under sealed orders before. You know the
drill."
"My orders don't generally come from
civilians with a grudge."
Kent stared at Kirk with amusement for a few
seconds, and then called, "Come, Ms.
Payton. I believe the reception is over."
Kent and Payton left as they had
arrived, in a dramatic flurry.
Kirk paced back and forth as he watched them
go. The ship was still his. He could take them back
to Pegasus IV and be rid of them. He was
angry enough to do that, but he was also a military man
trained to take orders. In this case, of course,
the orders did not come from a reliable source, and
they seemed ridiculous on their face. No, the
thing that prevented Kirk from taking Kent and
Payton back to Pegasus IV was curiosity
--ab a number of things.
First of all, R and R had been cut short
because Kent had specifically asked for the
Enterprise to take him and Payton to Starbase
12. Why the Enterprise?
Second, Kent had spoken of a secret
weapon that was eating Klingon ships and not leaving
any crumbs. Did the weapon exist? Kent
claimed it did not. Either way, Kent was playing
a dangerous game. And if the weapon did
exist, had it been developed by Starfleet? Had
it been developed by Professor Omen?
Weren't these the same thing?
Third, either Professor Omen was involved in
all this somehow or Kent was just bluff+. There was no
point to his bluff+--he was already en route
to Starbase 12. What more could he buy by invoking
the name of Professor Omen?
Kirk damned himself for his own curiosity--but
he had to give Kent his due. The man had not
gotten onto the Federation Council by being stupid.
And Payton did not do any job without an order
from Kent. Where did that leave Kirk and the
Enterprise?
He looked around at his people. They were still drinking,
talking, having a good time. He announced, "Good
night, everyone. Please feel free to continue.
It might be a long time before we resume our
shore leave. Mr. Spock?"
Spock followed him into the corridor. As they
walked toward the turbolift Kirk said, "What
do you know about Professor Omen?"
"Brilliant scientist. Chief designer
of the current generation of starship phasers and
photon torpedoes. I believe the
Enterprise armaments are his design."
"Very good. Anything more? Anything not in the
textbooks?"
"He is something of a mystery man. To my knowledge,
he has no close friends, and he's been
known to disappear for months at a time without
explanation."
"Mystery man, eh? Anything else?"
"Nothing but the usual biographical data.
May I inquire as to why you have a sudden interest
in Professor Omen?"
"Conrad Franklin Kent tells me that we will
be meeting him at Starbase 12, and that he will
fill us in on the secret weapon the Klingon
spoke of."
"Indeed?" An eyebrow shot up.
They reached the turbolift, and Kirk said he
was going to bed. The last thing he saw as the doors
closed was Spock standing with his hands clasped behind his
back, ruminating on what Kirk had just told
him.

By the time the Enterprise arrived at Starbase
12 Kirk's curiosity was overshadowed by his
dislike for Conrad Franklin Kent and his aide.
They were always underfoot, poking, prodding, asking
impolite questions. And since showing off that sensory
augmenter at the famous reception, Hazel
Payton wore it seemingly all the time. She
recorded
Conrad Franklin Kent in the officers'
lounge contemplating the starscape outside the
port.
Conrad Franklin Kent sampling coffee and
doughnuts with the crew down in the mess on Deck
17.
Conrad Franklin Kent correcting various
misconceptions that Chief Engineer Montgomery
Scott had about warp technology.
Despite his curiosity about Professor
Omen, Kirk was inclined to beam his passengers
over to Starbase 12 and accelerate into warp before
they were finished sparkling.
But as Sulu went through normal Starfleet
arrival protocols with the starbase, Uhura
received a personal message for Kirk from its
commander, Commodore Favere. Favere requested
the presence of Kirk and his first officer at their
earliest convenience so that they might discuss a
matter of grave importance.
Kirk didn't know Favere and so didn't know
his definition of "grave importance." But
to ignore such an invitation was impolite at the very
least, and at worst it could deprive Kirk of
important information that Starfleet might
not get around to telling him for months. The
Enterprise was a long way out, and Starfleet
had other things on its collective mind. Besides,
a meeting with a new face was a novelty that neither
starship captains nor starbase commanders enjoyed every
day.
Kirk said, "Uhura, inform the commodore that
Mr. Spock and I would be delighted to meet with
him even if we don't discuss matters of
"grave importance."'"
"Aye, sir."
The official good-byes between Kirk and his
passengers were rather stiff, but alt heartfelt. It
seemed to Kirk that Kent still kept secrets that
would have been of interest; but at this point Kirk
knew that asking would gain him nothing, and he
refused to give Kent the pleasure of being
evasive. He sighed as they disappeared at last.

Commodore Favere met Kent and Payton in
the starbase's transporter room.
"Good to see you again, sir," Favere said as the
two of them shook hands.
"I'm certain that's not true, Commodore, but
it's nice of you to say so." He glanced at
Payton and said, "You and Ms. Payton
probably have a lot to discuss. If you'll have a
yeoman show me to my quarters, I'll leave you
two alone."
"Yes, sir," Favere said with astonishment.
He motioned for a yeoman, who stepped forward and
asked Kent to follow him. Favere and Payton
watched them go, and then Favere said, "This way,
Ms. Payton." Payton tried to suppress
a smile.
He picked up her duffel and led her through
Starbase 12. When they arrived at Favere's
office and the door shushed closed he dropped her
duffel and engulfed Payton in a thorough kiss.
She wrapped her arms around him, andfor many moments
the only noise in the room--other than the constant
and forgotten hiss of the air conditioning--was that of
heavy breathing.
They stopped kissing, though the clinch continued, and
Favere said, "Knowing how he feels about
Starfleet in general and about our relationship in
particular, I'm surprised that Mr. Kent
left us alone without a fight."
"Actually, he likes you," Payton said.
"He just considers you a nice man who's
been misled into a bad career."
"My family has been in one service or
another for generations."
"Exactly. Misled." She broke away from
him gently and walked around the room, touching the
three-horned skull, the yellow braid of a
blue uniform displayed on a dummy, the back of
Favere's chair.
Favere smiled wistfully as he watched her.
He said, "It's been over a year."
"I would have expected you to be married to some
Orion slave girl by now."
"Not much chance for that sort of thing way out here."
She sat down in his chair and made it swivel
up and back as she swung her knees. She said,
"So, is Professor Omen here?"
"He is, and he gives me the creeps."
"We could have saved your nerves and held the test
somewhere else."
"You could have," Favere admitted.
They both smiled fondly.
Favere sat down in the chair before the desk and
said, "Seriously, Hazel, I don't like him."
"He 's smarter than almost everybody. That's
bound to make a man difficult."
"Have you met him?"
"No."
"You'll see what I mean. I also don't
understand why you needed the Enterprise for the test. The
flagship of the fleet, after all."
Payton pursed her lips and thought for a moment.
"What if I asked you to trust me on that?"
Favere shrugged and said, "I suppose I'd
trust you." He shook his head. "Still, with everything
so carefully arranged, to have Kent, and Omen, and the
Enterprise all here at the same time, I can't
help wondering if it's something I should know
officially."
Payton looked at the desk, and then up at
Favere in a suggestive way. She said, "There
must be something we can talk about besides Starfleet
business and Federation politics."
Favere's face reddened.
"What?" asked Payton.
He came around to her side of the desk and opened
a drawer. From within he took a small velvet
box. Payton sat very still and watched him
solemnly. Favere opened the box to reveal a
jeweled ring that sparkled like fire, even in the
indirect office lighting.
"Marry me," said Favere.
Payton said nothing. She did not move. She
barely breathed.
"You don't love me," Favere said.
"I do," said Payton, "but I have to consider
Mr. Kent. I don't think he'd approve."
"You don't need his approval," Favere said
angrily. "He's your boss, not your father. And
even if he were your father, you're old enough to make your
own decisions. Marry me."
Payton stood and slowly went to the other side
of the desk, where she put her fingertips on the top
and turned her head as if she were alternately
taking opposite sides in an argument. At
last she said, "He's been like a father to me. He
saw something in me no one else did and gave me
opportunities that I could not have dreamed of if
I'd stayed in school. He's advised me and
taken care of me. Sometimes I did the same for
him. I would hate to hurt him."
"It's your life," Favere said.
"Yes," Payton agreed. "I'll think it
over."
Favere nodded. She waited for more more
conversation, more kissing, more attention. When he did
notice her again he said, "You'd better go. I
have a meeting with Kirk and his first officer in a few
minutes. You're on Deck 3, Cabin 37."
"I really will think it over," Payton said.
Favere nodded again. When Payton went out he
sat down in his chair and, with finality, shut the
boxed ring back in the drawer. He picked up
an empty rifle shell and tossed it in his hand.

After completing administrative details
connected with docking at a starbase, Kirk left
the bridge to Scotty and beamed over to Starbase
12 with Mr. Spock.
As was the case with many starbases, this one had
taken on the personality of the person in charge, and
that personality now overlaid the utilitarian
Starfleet designs. Hanging at intervals in
every corridor were mementos of the nineteenth-century
(old calendar) American Wild West. There
were paintings of horse soldiers dealing with
Native Americans, feathered drums,
headdresses many feet long, crossed lances, and
framed proclamations announcing the forced movement
of various Native American tribes from one
part of the old United States to another.
Favere's office had the same flavor as his
starbase, but more so. He had on display various
cavalry uniforms, spurs, buttons,
insignia, braid, pistols, and crossed
sabers. In one corner a saddle was slung across
what appeared to be a wooden hitching rail. On
the corner of his desk was an animal skull; but
unlike earthly cattle, it had three horns.
Behind him, next to a rack of highly polished
rifles, was a poster advertising someone named
John Wayne in a production called She
Wore a Yellow Ribbon. Favere himself was a
slim, muscular man, somewhat older than
Kirk, with close-cropped blond hair. He
drawled in a folksy way that reminded Kirk of
McCoy at his most ingenuous.
As they shook hands Kirk looked around
appreciatively and said, "You seem fascinated
by the old United States Cavalry."
"Not the cavalry so much as the system of forts that
sprang up across the west after the American
Civil War."
"Not a happy time for the inhabitants of North
America," said Mr. Spock. "Particularly
not for the native inhabitants."
"It was a time of courage and cowardice, of great
deeds and some deeds so despicable as to be
embarrassing for humankind even today."
"It was a time of life and death," said Kirk.
"Like any time."
"My point exactly. Td's starbases
serve the same purpose as the forts of the old
west. We represent Federation civilization
to colonists and to enemies alike. We survey.
We put out diplomatic and military brush
fires. In short, we are the "law west of the
Pecos."'"
"A colorful if not wholly accurate
description," said Spock.
Kirk could see that Favere was ready to talk for
hours about the nineteenth-century cavalry, and
though Kirk was amenable, North American
history could hardly be the matter of grave
importance that had drawn them there in the first
place.
When Kirk mentioned this, Favere smiled shyly
and said, "You're right, Captain. I am always
comfortable riding my hobby horse, and I occasionally
lose track of time." He put down the empty
rifle cartridge he'd been rolling
around in his fingers and said, "Something inexplicable is
happening in this sector, and it is reaching
epidemic proportions."
Kirk said, "Klingon ships are disappearing
without a trace."
"Not just Klingons," Favere replied.
"Romulans, and even Federation ships. But how
did you know?"
"We encountered a disgruntled Klingon on our
way here."
Spock said, "Earlier we had surmised that a
Federation weapon was responsible. Apparently that
is not the case."
"Apparently," Kirk said. So Kent had
been bluff+ after all. If the Federation
diplomats could prove to the Klingons'
satisfaction that Starfleet ships were disappearing as
well as Klingon ships, perhaps war could be
avoided, despite Kent's bluff. Then what
was all this business about Professor Omen?
"Have a look at this," Favere said. He handed
Kirk a memoboard on which page one already
appeared. The report told essentially the same
story that Torm of the Kormak had told, though
in more polite language. It took several
pages for the report to say that ships were disappearing
without a trace. They didn't have time to radio a
distress call back to base or to drop a marker
buoy. No wreckage, not even molecular or
energy traces remained--not that anyone could find,
anyway.
Kirk handed the memoboard to Spock and asked
Favere, "What's being done about this?"
"Not much so far. Starfleet has sent out a
few scout ships--t's how we got all this
negative information--but aside from that, nobody
knew what to do except be outraged. Till
now."
"Till now?" Kirk asked. He believed
he knew on what plan of action Starfleet had
settled. It was inevitable.
"Yesterday I received a subspace
communiqu@e from Starfleet Command, Priority
One and scrambled."
Spock looked up from the memoboard and said,
"Excuse me, Commodore, but no doubt you have
noticed the single critical piece of information this
report does contain."
"What is it, Spock?" Kirk asked.
"We know very little about the Klingon or
Romulan fleets, of course, but if the
Starfleet disappearances continue at their present
rate, the Federation will be without a fleet in less
than two solar years."
Spock spoke this shocking news calmly.
Knowing Spock as he did, Kirk would have been
surprised if he'd done anything else. But
apparently Favere had little experience with
Vulcans.
"Doesn't that bother you, Mr. Spock?"
Favere asked.
"I am a Vulcan," Spock said.
"Facts neither bother nor elate me. They
simply are. Still, I admit that it would be
prudent to take action to prevent the piecemeal
destruction of Starfleet."
Kirk said, "Maybe the Starfleet
communiqu@e will suggest what that action might be."
With a sense of inevitability Kirk took the
chip from Favere and inserted it into the top of the
board. He punched in his code, and the scrambled
message straightened itself out. Though he'd not known
what the specifics of the message would be, he'd
correctly guessed its general outline. It
excited him. He swallowed and said, "They're
sending the Enterprise to find out what's going on
and to stop it. They don't even say "if
possible."' Just "stop it."'" He smiled
philosophically and said, "We never get the
easy ones, do we, Spock?"
Spock shrugged and said, "It does seem that
our reputation precedes us."
"The order says that we'll be taking
Professor Omen with us. Starfleet thinks his
experience with weapons design will be helpful.
Is Professor Omen here?"
"He is," Favere said.
Kirk said, "At least Kent didn't lie
about that." He stood up and said, "Good. Then we
can leave immediately." Kirk was pleased that the mystery
had been cleared up at last. Though why Kent
insisted that it be a mystery, Kirk did not know.
Maybe it was just another example of the
suspicious political mind in action.
Favere said, "I'm afraid that's not
possible. Professor Omen's test is tomorrow."
"Test?" Kirk asked. "What test?"
Favere looked uncomfortable. "Mr. Kent
didn't tell you?"
"Mr. Kent told us very little that was of
any use," Spock said.
Favere said, "Omen has developed a new
phased shield generator."
"Phased?" Spock asked. His eyebrows were
up. Kirk knew that this was the Vulcan
equivalent of showing wild curiosity.
"Yes, phased," Favere said. "Though I
don't pretend to understand it myself."
"If I know Kent," Kirk said with disgust,
"the Enterprise is probably the target."
"No, we have an old freighter for that. The
Enterprise is going to be the aggressor."
Kirk nodded. The need for the Enterprise to be
at Starbase 12 was now clear. Starfleet was
killing two birds with one stone--testing the new
generators and having the Enterprise available
to take Omen out to solve the problem of the disappearing
ships. Then something else occurred to Kirk. He
said, "But why here? Why Starbase 12?"
"Well," said Favere, "there's the matter of
secrecy, of course. It's much easier to keep
something secret out here."
"Secrecy, of course," Spock said.
"And there's Hazel."
"Hazel?" asked Kirk.
"Ms. Payton. Mr. Kent's aide. She
and I are, uh, very close. We hadn't seen
each other for a long time. We thought that Starbase
12 would do for the site of the test as well as anywhere
else, and she pulled a few strings."
With some embarrassment Kirk remembered the
play he'd made for Hazel Payton. Knowing
what he knew now, he was glad he hadn't
completed his pass. Knowing what he knew now, he
was certain that completing it would have been impossible.
Spock said, "Excuse me, Commodore, but
there is one thing I still do not understand. The
Enterprise and Omen are here both for the test and
to study the problem of the disappearing starships. Though
I can appreciate your pleasure at Ms.
Payton's presence, Mr. Kent's interest in
this is still unknown. Is he here for Ms.
Payton's benefit, or for some other, more
personal reason? It seems unlikely that
Starfleet would approve of a Federation Council
observer who is so unfriendly."
Favere said, "My feelings exactly, Mr.
Spock. I have a hunch that something else is going
on. But I have not yet been able to find out what it
is."
"I am familiar with the concept of hunches,
Commodore. And while I believe intuition to be
an unreliable resource at best, I have learned
that some humans can draw surprisingly accurate
conclusions from surprisingly little data."
Kirk said, "Call it what you will, Mr.
Spock. I have a bad feeling about all this
myself."

Chapter Four

Kirk received his orders for the test. They were
simple enough. He was to fire everything the
Enterprise had at a gutted old class-J
freighter protected only by a deflector
erected by one of Professor Omen's phased
field generators. If the freighter was still there
when the Enterprise was finished, the test would be
declared a success. The fireworks had been the
talk of Starbase 12 for weeks. Kirk could not
help being irritated that these people had known about the
test before he had. Surely Kent could have told
him.
Spock spent a few hours reading everything in
the memory banks of both the Enterprise and
Starbase 12 concerning conventional force fields and
phased force fields. He told Kirk, "There
was considerably more information on the former than on the
latter. Thus far, the strength of shields has
been limited by the strength of materials used
to build their generators, and we seem to have reached
the theoretical limit. If Professor Omen
has succeeded in raising that limit by phasing the
field, then he has made yet another
breakthrough. I will look forward to discussing it with him
at dinner this evening."
Kirk himself was ambivalent about attending the
dinner. As a matter of fact, when the invitation
had come from Commodore Favere, Kirk had even
considered declining. Kirk had no interest in
eating with Conrad Franklin Kent ever again. But
he had a few questions for Kent, and the dinner would
give him an opportunity to ask them. Besides,
Professor Omen was sure to be there, and one
way or another, that was sure to be interesting--at
least until he and Spock climbed into a
mathematical stratosphere where few could follow.
As McCoy joined Kirk and Spock on the
transporter stage he pulled at the collar of
his formal Starfleet uniform and said, "I
don't know why you always drag me into these
diplomatic affairs."
"Why should I suffer alone?" Kirk asked.
McCoy and Spock traded dubious
expressions. McCoy said, "I was about to mention
that you already had Spock, but then I remembered that
Spock likes to keep his suffering to himself."
"Right. He's no fun. Besides, you have to eat
anyway." He nodded at Mr. Kyle and said,
"Energize."

People gathered in a room that was rather bare by Starbase
12 standards. Everything was contemporary, and
colored the usual Starfleet gray, red, or
black. Favere was in one corner of the room with
Kent and Payton. Even if he had not known that
Favere was in love with Payton, Kirk would have
guessed. No one could fail to notice the way
Favere leaned close when she spoke, laughed
at her jokes, and rarely took his eyes off
her.
Payton was wearing her sensory augmenter, which
made Kirk a little nervous. He was certain that
few other people at the event knew what the fancy
jewelry in Payton's hair was, which struck
Kirk as taking unfair advantage, but chances
were good that nothing much would happen that evening that would be
of general interest. The recording would probably
be buried in Kent's archives. Besides, Kirk
liked to choose his battles. He had other things
he wanted to argue about with Kent.
"Which one is Omen?" McCoy asked.
"The available holos are very old, but I
believe I would recognize him even so. He
has not yet arrived."
"Big disappointment, eh, Spock?"
"No, Doctor. My only concern is that I
have lost an opportunity to speak with someone whose every
statement is not a childish emotional outburst."
McCoy said, "I can be witty if there's
anybody around to appreciate it."
Kirk said, "You can fight on the ship,
gentlemen. Let's mingle." He grabbed a
drink from an automated tray that floated by and
headed for Kent. Kirk could see no point
putting off their discussion. Before he made it to the
other side of the room, however, a man dressed in
a cavalry uniform opened double doors and
announced that dinner was served.
Immediately the crowd drifted toward the
doors and into the room beyond. The officer's mess was
decorated in much the same way as the rest of the
starbase. Cavalry flags hung in shreds from the
front wall. Kirk assumed they were simulations
of flags that had been through battles.
Kirk found his name card and sat down. Under his
name were the printed ^ws, "This dinner catered for your
enjoyment by Enyart's, famous for fine dining across the
galaxy." Kirk should have guessed that Enyart's
would be called in. Favere would want to impress
his very important guests, and Enyart's always put
on a good feed. No matter what else
happened, dinner would be worth eating.
A pretty redheaded lieutenant sat down
on one side of him, and an elderly civilian
woman sat down on the other. The civilian
put out her hand and said, "I'm Dr. Kroeber.
You must be Captain Kirk of the Enterprise."
She leaned across Kirk and whispered to the
lieutenant in a voice loud enough to carry to the
entire table, "Be careful of this one, dear.
He's much too charming for either your good or his."
The lieutenant looked at the old woman in
amazement and then was distracted by McCoy, who, with
obvious delight, sat on her other side. He
glanced a second time at his name card and nodded with
approval.
"I don't know whether to be flattered or not,"
Kirk said to Dr. Kroeber.
"That's all right, dear," she said. "I don't
know how I meant it."
Kirk liked Dr. Kroeber immediately and found
himself talking to her more than to the lieutenant, whose
name was Goshalk. McCoy made sure that
Goshalk didn't feel lonely. Kirk watched
the women on either side of Spock try to chat with
him, but with little success. Spock was unfailingly
polite and could hold forth on a variety of
subjects, but on the whole he was more geared for the
classroom than for the dinner party.
Kirk bowed his head to listen to a very off-color
story that Dr. Kroeber told with some gusto.
When she came to the improbable punchline and
Kirk lifted his head to laugh, he saw that
sitting directly across from him was Conrad
Franklin Kent. Suddenly Kirk did not
feel like laughing. He and Kent nodded civilly
at each other, but before Kirk had a chance to ask
any questions yeomen appeared with heaping trays of
food. Kirk grumbled.
Kirk took a slab of meat and a spoonful
each of the side dishes. He found the flavor of the
meat to be delicious but heavy and quite unusual.
He guessed it had come from some non-sapient
alien species, but when someone farther down the table
asked what it was, Favere said it was buffalo.
"Not real buffalo, of course, but a very good
simulacrum made by the Enyart's food
replicators. I have no idea where they got the
program."
Many people at the table did not know what a buffalo
was, and Favere took pleasure in explaining.
Then he pointed to the various dishes and told what
they were. It seemed that most of them were made of
corn--replicator corn, anyway--alth some
were made from native North American plants
that Kirk had never heard of. Though he did not
eat meat, between the side dishes and the salad,
Spock would not go hungry.
For a long time the only sounds Kirk heard were
the sharp taps of utensils against crockery.
Various people mentioned that Professor Omen had not
yet appeared.
"As a matter of fact," Dr. Kroeber
said, "I have never spoken with anyone who's seen
him."
"Human question mark, eh?" Kirk asked.
"Apparently. His staff must talk with him, of
course. I meant besides them. And the mystery seems
to have rubbed off." She looked up and down the table.
"None of Omen's staff are here either. Maybe
they're installing the field generator in the
freighter, but I doubt it." She sipped her
wine and said, "We'll be lucky if he comes out
for his own test."
Kirk glanced down the table and saw a female
lieutenant with big doe eyes hanging on
Spock's every well-considered ^w. It was amazing.
The less interest Spock showed in women, the more
intrigued they became. His line of devotees
did not end with McCoy's Nurse Chapel.
"Enjoying your dinner, Mr. Kent?" Dr.
Kroeber asked.
"Very much so," Kent said. "North American
history has always been an interest of mine. It
seems appropriate that we eat this kind of
food way out here on the Federation frontier."
"Looking forward to the big test, sir?" a
freckle-faced command ensign asked.
Kirk was about to answer when Kent said,
"Indeed I am. But with some trepidation, I
might add."
"Why is that, sir?"
Before he answered, Kent carefully spread a
spoonful of corn relish over what remained of
his buffalo steak. He pointed at the ensign with the
empty spoon and said, "I believe that we in the
Federation will lose no matter what the outcome of the
test."
"How's that?" Dr. Kroeber asked.
"Well, if the phased shield generators
don't work, an important Federation scientist
will have wasted months of his time. If it does work,
then Starfleet will have a bigger shield to hide
behind."
In the sudden silence McCoy coughed and
appraised Kirk. Many of the diners did the
same, and Kirk knew why. As the ranking
officer within earshot of Kent's slander, he was
obligated to defend Starfleet. Was it Kent's
intention to drag him into an argument? Kirk
decided that Kent's intentions didn't matter.
He said, "I don't follow you,
Councilman."
"I meant only this With a deflector of this
strength, Starfleet will feel confident to go
into battle more often, to take even greater risks with
its crews and equipment."
McCoy made an impolite "Hah."
"What Dr. McCoy means to say," Kirk
said in a reasonable tone, "is that Starfleet has
always been more interested in peace than in war. And a
shield is not an offensive weapon. It is not a
weapon at all."
"Not in the conventional sense, no," Kent
admitted.
Kirk chuckled and touched his lips with his
napkin. He said, "If you are convinced we lose
either way, I can't help but wonder why you're
wasting your time out here on the, ah, Federation
frontier at all, sir."
"I have my reasons, sir," Kent said.
"Secret reasons?"
"Secret Federation reasons."
"That's convenient," McCoy grumbled.
Innocently Kirk said, "I suppose those
secret reasons also cover that other weapon
Professor Omen is said to be working on. The
one we discussed aboard the Enterprise?
Professor Omen doesn't seem to be
here to speak for himself."
"This is hardly the place for such a discussion,
Captain, as you well know."
"Perhaps later--"
"Perhaps you should wait to speak with Professor
Omen about that. He is sure to be at the test
tomorrow."
He'd made Kent sweat a little, which was all
Kirk had intended to do. A weapon of such power
should not be discussed before a group of this size, if
there was really anything to discuss. Kirk said, "I
will look forward to the opportunity."
Even if Omen did show up at the test,
Kirk thought it unlikely that he would be able
to clear up anything. Starfleet wouldn't be sending
him out with the Enterprise if they already knew what
was going on. And a weapons expert might be no
help to them anyway; Kent was still denying that a
weapon existed, after all. That left them with a lot
of missing starships. Unless Kent and Omen had
gone into business for themselves, Kirk doubted that either
of them would snipe at Federation ships.
Which left Kirk with either a brace of
traitors or a mystery. Kirk could hardly
accuse Kent of treason based on the evidence
he had in hand. And Kirk had even less
evidence against Omen. All Kirk could do was stay
awake and be ready to drop a noose if the
proper neck presented itself.
Dessert came--ice cream with chocolate
sauce--and Favere assured everyone that this was the
only part of the meal that was not authentic to the
nineteenth-century North American west.
"However, ice cream and chocolate sauce is a
particular favorite of one of my favorite
people." He looked at Payton and she blushed.
After dessert people lingered over coffee and tea.
Lieutenant Goshalk asked to see Dr.
Kroeber alone for a moment. As Lieutenant
Goshalk went out the door Dr. Kroeber
explained to Kirk, "She's having some trouble with
her young man. I've been coaching her."
"Her young man?" McCoy asked.
"I'm very sorry, Doctor," Dr.
Kroeber said, and she patted his arm as she
followed Lieutenant Goshalk.
McCoy stretched and said, "I've had enough
disappointment for one evening. What about you, Jim?"
"I have some unfinished business."
McCoy glanced at Kent, who was
speaking to a yeoman as he poured more coffee.
McCoy leaned across the empty chair between them and
whispered to Kirk, "I don't want to see you in
sickbay with a bloody nose. Not tonight,
anyway."
"I wouldn't think of disturbing your beauty
sleep, Bones."
McCoy and the Captain said their good nights, and
McCoy walked carefully away.
As he sipped his coffee Kent watched
Payton and Favere through narrow eyes. At last
Kirk got tired of waiting for Kent to finish and
went into the reception room where crowds had gathered
to say extended good nights. Many people wished Kirk
well on the test tomorrow, as if his invention were on the
line instead of Professor Omen's.
As the evening got later Kirk felt
increasingly heavy, both physically and mentally.
Through layers of fatigue and indulgence he was
debating whether he really wanted yet another
confrontation with Kent when Kent wandered into the
reception room with a group of civilians.
"Good night, Kirk," Kent said as he
lifted his hand in a desultory wave.
Kirk asked, "Can I speak with you, Mr.
Kent?"
"Tonight?"
"No time like the present."
Kent looked around at the people he was with, asked
to be excused, and walked with Kirk into the
corridor.
Kirk said, "I have reason to believe that
Professor Omen knows nothing about the
disappearances."
Kent rubbed his eyes as he said, "What
reasons are those, Captain?"
"We all have our secrets, Councilman.
I'm sure you understand."
Kent thought for a moment before he said, "He's the
weapons expert."
"You said there wasn't a weapon."
"No Federation weapon."
They held each other's stare until Mr.
Spock came by with his doe-eyed lieutenant.
She had wrapped herself around Spock's arm. He
appeared to be uncomfortable, yet he was not
struggling. Spock was, as Kirk noted before,
unfailingly polite.
"Why, Mr. Spock," Kirk said with some
glee.
"Good evening, Captain. Lieutenant Clark
insisted that I escort her home."
"Of course."
"Good night, Captain, Mr. Kent."
"Good night," Kent and Kirk said together.
After they were gone Kent said, "Look, Kirk,
we each have our reasons for believing what we do,
and that's fine. But believe me when I tell you
this If Professor Omen can't tell you
what's going on, then nobody can. Good night."
Kent wandered off looking like no more than a man
on the verge of old age going home too late
from a party. He seemed harmless, like a man who
really knew as little as he claimed. Still, Kirk
did not trust him; he had no reason to.
Kirk rubbed his own eyes. They felt as if they
did not quite fit their sockets. It was late. He
was thinking in circles. And the next day he had
to attack a gutted class-J freighter.
Big job. It really needed the flagship of the
fleet. Kirk shook his head as he walked to the
transporter, short one bloody nose.
McCoy would be pleased that he was not disturbed.


Kirk was not at his best the following morning;
he rarely was the morning after a party. But he'd
felt worse, and fortunately Enterprise time
and Starbase 12 time were within two hours of each
other, so warp lag was not much of a problem. The test
was to take place at ten hundred hours local
time. Kirk lingered over a light breakfast and then
went up to the bridge.
Status reports came in from all over the
ship. Uhura was speaking to Starbase 12
control, and Spock was giving orders to a yeoman
who was concentrating very hard to keep track of them.
On the main viewscreen, under a tactical
overlay, was the awkward fishlike bulk of the
class-J freighter. Sulu and Chekov were
checking the weapons systems, recalibrating when
necessary. Watching over Sulu's shoulder was a
blond civilian female dressed in a
simple blue jumpsuit. The serious
expression on her handsome face only added to her
charm.
Kirk walked up to McCoy, who was sitting
in the command chair. "Comfy?" Kirk asked.
"Oh, sorry, Captain," McCoy said as
he stood and stepped down to stand next to the
chair. "Not much happening in sickbay, so I
thought I'd come up to see the fireworks. This was the
only vacant chair."
"That's all right, Bones, just don't get used
to it. Mr. Sulu, perhaps you would introduce me
to your friend."
"Yes, sir. This is Bahia Slocum.
She's here observing for Professor Omen."
With some surprise Kirk asked, "The
professor himself won't be joining us?"
Slocum said, "The professor has much to do.
He can't be everywhere at once."
"Of course. Please continue, Mr. Sulu.
Status, Mr. Spock."
"We are running diagnostics on all
systems, Captain, and sensors are in
full-record mode. At last report we were
wit hin five percent of Starfleet specifications."
"Very good. What is our time?"
"Fifteen minutes, seventeen seconds and
counting."
"Very good."
Kirk immersed himself in the brisk activity
around him, and the fifteen minutes passed quickly.
As they approached ten hundred hours Spock
began a verbal countdown.
"Message coming in for Ms. Slocum,"
Uhura said. "Audio only."
"Ms. Slocum, if you would care for some
privacy--"
"No, Captain. It's Omen with his final
check."
"Very well, Ms. Slocum. Let's hear
it, Lieutenant."
"Aye, Captain."
Uhura opened a channel, and a voice said,
"Bahia, are you there?" It was a cultured
voice; overcultured, Kirk decided, deep,
resonant, trained. It thought a lot of itself, and
yet, as it spoke to Bahia Slocum, it was not
unkind. Ultimately the voice told Kirk
little more about Professor Omen than would a
Starfleet press release.
Slocum said, "Here, sir."
"Weapons?"
"Gstno-g tests satisfactorily completed.
Photon torpedoes are armed and ready.
Phasers are fully charged."
"Weapons systems?"
"I am in constant communication with
Chief Engineer Scott. He and Ensign
Chekov assure me that targeting and launch
systems are calibrated and ready. As are all
primary and secondary guidance and feedback
systems."
"Firing program?"
"Sequencers are programmed and ready.
Automatic firing will commence on your command."
"Sensors?"
"Ready," said Mr. Spock.
Slocum looked at him and said, "Ready,
sir. We won't miss a thing."
"Very well. At my mark we are at three
minutes, fourteen seconds and counting. Mark.
Omen out."
Slocum backed away from Sulu and joined
McCoy next to the center seat. She studied him
for a moment and said, "I assume you're cleared for
this area."
McCoy seemed surprised at the question, but he
answered politely enough. "I think you can
safely do that." He looked at the captain for
confirmation. Kirk nodded with a straight face.
Spock gave them a count every ten seconds
down to thirty seconds and counting, and every second
thereafter. At ten seconds and counting Omen's
voice filled the bridge again. "You may fire
when ready, Captain."
"Thank you, Professor."
At five seconds and counting Kirk said,
"Mr. Chekov, you may fire when ready."
"Aye, Captain."
At the stroke of ten hundred hours Chekov
touched a single control, and Kirk heard the
peculiar electronic sneeze of a launching
photon torpedo. Then again and again. The
Enterprise shuddered with the force of their leaving. The
fan of torpedoes converged on the freighter and
exploded with a light so bright it could almost be felt
as well as seen.
"Sequencing program holding fire,"
Chekov said.
"Spock?" Kirk asked.
"Sensors report that both shield and hull
integrity remain. Freighter shield strength
fell by two percent during attack."
"This is well within design parameters,"
Slocum said.
"Very well. Mr. Chekov, continue."
"Aye, Captain."
A spray of phaser fire spread against the
freighter. Where the incandescent beams touched the
shield Kirk could actually see it blush red, as
if a forge were behind it. As the attack continued and more
power was poured into the phasers the red brightened
into orange, and then up the spectrum yellow,
green, blue, indigo, and then into a violet that
grew in intensity until the freighter looked like
a tiny white sun. Beams reflected away at
odd angles. Then even the white light was
replaced by a black smudge that blotted out a
freighter-shaped section of stars.
"Spock?"
"Shields now at maximum, radiating in the
ultra-violet, but withstanding attack. They are
reflecting what they cannot absorb. Shield and
hull integrity continue. Interior temperature
of freighter is well within normal
life-support limits."
"Ten seconds remain," Chekov said. He
counted down to zero, and the phaser banks cut off.
Suddenly everything was quiet. The bridge, which for the
last few minutes had been filled with bright
light, now looked dingy under its normal
illumination.
"Shield and hull integrity remain,"
Spock said. "Life support conditions inside
the freighter remain nominal."
"We did it," Slocum cried. She shook
McCoy's hand vigorously.
"Congratulations, Ms. Slocum," Kirk
said.
"Indeed," said Spock. "Very impressive.
I would like very much to speak to Professor Omen about
his discovery."
"I suspect you're not alone, Spock.
I'm sure your moment will come."
"Aye, Captain."
Kirk and Spock both knew that Omen would be
setting off with them the next day to search for the thing
eating starships. Chances were very good that Spock would
be one of the few aboard the Enterprise who would be
competent to converse with Omen on technical
matters.
Slocum said, "I must go, Captain. Omen
will want to go over the test results with a
fine-toothed comb."
"Don't let me stop you, Ms. Slocum.
Please extend the congratulations of the
Enterprise to Professor Omen."
"Thank you, Captain." She rushed out.
"Uhura, see that the Starbase 12 computer
gets full sensor readouts of the test. Spock,
prepare for departure tomorrow at oh-nine-hundred
hours, ship's time."
"Aye, Captain."
Uhura said, "Captain, message coming in from
Councilman Kent."
"Tell him we're busy, Lieutenant."
"I tried that, sir. He is most insistent."
"Maybe he just wants to say good-bye,"
McCoy whispered.
Kirk smiled and said, "On screen,
Lieutenant."
Kent, looking exhilarated, replaced the
freighter. He said, "Congratulations, Kirk."
"Sarcasm, Mr. Kent?"
"Not at all, Kirk. Whatever I may think
of the political ramifications, the fact that the
phased shield works is a stunning technical
achievement."
Kirk considered reminding Kent that he'd had
nothing to do with developing the shield, but there was no
point. Kent was a politician--he was making
political noises. Kirk merely said,
"Thank you, Mr. Kent."
"Yes. And to celebrate this event I'd like
you, Mr. Spock, and Dr. McCoy to join me
in my cabin for a drink."
Kirk took a moment to look at Spock.
He knew that Spock was wondering if Omen would
be there. Kirk normally did not mind satisfying
Spock's curiosity, but in this case Spock
could wait. They would be seeing a lot of Omen in
the next few weeks. Besides, Kirk tried not
to accept drinking invitations from people he didn't like.
It was bad for the soul. He said, "I'm afraid
that isn't possible, Mr. Kent. The
Enterprise is leaving with the tide tomorrow morning on
a mission of the greatest importance. My crew and
I have much to do before we cast off."
"The tide?"
"Just a figure of speech. The fact remains
that we have no time for victory drinks."
"I assure you, Captain, ignoring me will not
help Starfleet's cause."
"Mr. Kent, if my drinking with you will change
your mind about Starfleet, I mistook the depth
of your convictions. Kirk out." He made the
cutthroat sign to Uhura, and the
freighter returned to the main viewscreen.
McCoy said, "It's satisfying not to suffer
fools gladly, isn't it, Jim?"
"He's no fool, Bones. But it was
satisfying just the same."
Kirk's sense of satisfaction lasted till
after lunch. He was in his cabin reading all he could
about the sector of space they'd be patrolling; it
was all he could do. He couldn't prepare to meet
the mystery weapon because he knew nothing about it.
Uhura called and told him that three messages
had just arrived.
The first was an answer to his query about the
weapon. Starfleet suggested he get in touch with
Commodore Favere at Starbase 12. Kirk
shrugged.
The second was a personal message from
Admiral Nogura once again asking--in a
way that was nearly an order, but not quite--t Kirk
cooperate with Conrad Franklin Kent in any
way possible. Kirk wondered if Nogura had
ever met the man, then he decided that what
Nogura felt about Kent didn't matter. An
admiral was part diplomat and part politician,
as well as part Starfleet officer. Nogura
probably just reasoned that cooperating with Kent would
be good for the cause. Maybe he was right, but Kirk
didn't have to like it.
The third message was the one Kirk liked
least. Obviously Kent had told someone that
Kirk wasn't cooperating, not even to the extent
of drinking with him. ^w had gotten to Nogura, and
Nogura had assured Kent that cooperation would be
forthcoming--hence the second message. The third
message was an invitation to dinner from Kent. "And
please bring Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy.
I have the feeling that they are confidants of yours, and
they ought to be here."
Kirk disliked taking orders from civilians,
even when the orders were couched in the form of an
invitation, especially when he didn't like the
civilian doing the inviting. But he could see no
way out. Maybe they would meet Omen at last.
That would be something, anyway.

Chapter Five

Kirk decided not to wear his dress uniform.
Kent's little party could hardly be construed as an
official function. Within the narrow
parameters of Nogura's order, Kirk wanted
to use all the maneuvering room available to him.
As he entered the transporter room McCoy
said, "I have things to do, Jim. I can't be beaming
all over creation every time some muck-a-muck
decides to throw a weenie roast."
"I know, Doctor. Mr. Spock said the
same thing."
"He said that I have things to do?"
"I merely pointed out, Doctor, that
participating in yet another dinner party did not
make the best use of our time."
"Gentlemen, I agree with you entirely. But
Starfleet Command gives us no alternative.
We will go. We will eat. We will leave as soon
as we can."
They transported over to Starbase 12 and
found out from the officer of the day where Kent's cabin
was. Compared to the lodgings on the Enterprise,
it was very posh. He even had a separate dining
room and a separate bedroom. A fresh, hot
smell filled the place. Kirk recognized it
as Rigellian husk, the large bell-shaped
seed of the whispering smith. Kirk had never been
partial to it, but he could choke it down if he had
to.
"Where's Ms. Payton?" McCoy asked.
"Out somewhere with Commodore Favere." Kent
shook his head.
"Favere is an honorable Starfleet
officer," Spock said.
"Exactly," Kent said, as if being a
Starfleet officer were a shifty occupation.
"I'm surprised she isn't here to record
our meeting for posterity," Kirk said.
"You have a bad opinion of me, Captain. But
I assure you that not every waking moment is
recorded."
"Editing an entire life would be a problem,"
Spock said. "For one thing, it would take another
entire life just to play it back."
"Quite right, Mr. Spock," said Kent as he
ushered them into the dining room. "And I, for one, have
only one life."
"Are you expecting no one else for dinner?"
Spock asked.
"Professor Omen sends his regrets."
Kirk noted that sometimes it paid to be a
civilian, but he did not make this comment out loud.
McCoy nodded. Perhaps he was thinking the
same thing.
The table was beautifully set, not the rustic
affair that the commodore favored. In the middle
of the table was the Rigellian husk, a seed big
enough to feed four easily.
"I hope you enjoy this, Mr. Spock. It
is one of the few vegetarian main courses I
prepare well."
"You made this yourself?" McCoy asked.
"The ability to butt heads with Starfleet is
not my only talent. Please sit down." Kent
poured the wine (spock had water) and passed
around the husk. Each of them took a small pod
from inside the husk, tore it open, and carved the
gray flesh into slices. Spock complimented
Kent's cooking. Kirk would never understand
Vulcan taste buds.
After they ate in silence for a while, Kent said,
"I suppose, Captain, that you have a plan for
discovering what happened to the missing starships."
Startled, Kirk said, "Why would I have a
plan for that?"
"Starfleet always has a plan, even if it
is a bad one."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Come, come, Captain. I deal in information.
I know for a fact that Klingon ships are not the
only ones disappearing. Federation and Romulan
starships have disappeared as well. The Enterprise
has been ordered to investigate the mystery."
"A lucky guess," McCoy said.
Kirk knew it was no guess. The fact that
Kent had a pipeline to Starfleet Command angered
Kirk. Evidently information in the pipeline
flowed both ways.
"Not at all, Doctor," Spock said.
"Given the situation and the presence of both the
Enterprise and Professor Omen, it is a
logical inference."
While trying to remain calm Kirk said,
"Then you know we are not dealing with a Starfleet
weapon."
"Of course."
Spock said, "You seemed reluctant
to admit that before."
"You had not yet been given your orders."
"I see," said Kirk.
"And your plan is?"
"Classified."
Spock was about to speak and then thought
better of it.
"Come, come, Kirk," said Kent.
"Come, come, Mr. Kent. You have kept
secrets, used every means at your command to push me,
prod me, and harass me, and all because you don't
like Starfleet. Well, the fact is that
Starfleet doesn't like you very much either. For that
reason andfor many others, both official and
unofficial, my plan will stay classified."
"Bravo," said McCoy. He saluted
Kirk with his glass and drank down the wine.
Spock, as usual, was unperturbed. But the
raised eyebrow did indicate his disapproval of
Kirk's outburst.
Kent seemed surprised but not upset.
Maybe it was what Kent had been angling for all
along, an excuse to give Kirk trouble. Now
he had it. One did not speak that way to a
council member with impunity. Kirk stood and
said, "We'll be going now, Councilman.
Thank you for an educational evening."
McCoy and Spock stood. They moved
to follow Kirk, who was halfway to the door before
Kent stopped all three of them. "I
appreciate honesty, Captain, even when I
am the unhappy recipient."
Kirk turned and said, "That changes nothing."
"It should. It means you will not be
court-martialed. In exchange for that small
favor, I have a favor to ask of you."
Kirk could not help smiling. He said, "Your
nerve is positively astonishing."
"So I've been told. Will you sit?"
Spock and McCoy watched Kirk, waited
to see what he would say. Kirk had no idea.
His brain was frozen by conflicting emotions pushing
against each other. He had no love for Conrad
Franklin Kent or for anything he represented.
Yet walking out could be interpreted as childish.
If he stayed, Kirk felt he would win a
moral victory. He said, "Gentlemen,
let's sit."
Kent was pleased. He refilled their
glasses, Spock's from a carafe of water.
He stared into Kirk's eyes and said, "Captain,
I would like you to take Hazel Payton on your
voyage of investigation."
The request stunned Kirk, andfora moment he
could think of nothing to say. He had not known what
Kent would ask for, and this request
confirmed that he was capable of anything. It was
outrageous. Everybody at the table, even Kent
himself, knew that it was. There was no reason for
Kirk to be angry or even apologetic. He
could afford to be polite. He said, "I'm
sorry, but no."
"Why?"
"I don't have to justify my decisions to you,
Mr. Kent. But just so that we all understand each
other, let me tell you that the Enterprise is
no pleasure cruiser, and the mission on which we
embark tomorrow is no joyride. It will be
dangerous, and every member of my crew will need
to act at peak efficiency if any of us are to come
back alive. Under these circumstances any
civilian, especially a civilian whose only
business is politics, will be so much excess
baggage. Do I make myself clear, Mr.
Kent?"
"For all the reasons you give, Captain, this
mission needs to be recorded."
"We have logs, sir."
"Not good enough."
"Good enough for Starfleet."
"My point exactly."
"The answer is no, Mr. Kent." Kirk
stood again and said, "Gentlemen, I believe that this
time we really have overstayed our welcome. Good
night, Mr. Kent."
As Kirk walked out he heard McCoy and
Spock making hurried good-byes. Spock again
complimented Kent's Rigellian husk. And then
they were out in the corridor. Kirk was exhilarated
by the drama of his exit, but he knew the feeling
would wear off and he would just be angry. Angry at
Kent for making an impertinent request, angry
at himself for allowing the impertinent request to rile
him so.
McCoy said, "I didn't think you were ever
going to stop being that man's doormat."
"I'm not sure I've stopped yet. Putting
Ms. Payton on the Enterprise is
evidently important to Kent. I suspect
we haven't heard the last of this."
"Indeed, Captain. We know he has the ear
of many highly placed people at Starfleet Command.
Surely it is only a matter of time before you
hear from one of them."
Kirk strolled toward the transporter with
Spock and McCoy on either side of
him. Bemused, Kirk said, "There's always
mutiny, of course."
Spock said, "You are already known as something of a
free spirit, Captain. However, till now you have
managed to avoid disobeying a direct order. Do
you really wish to begin?"
McCoy said, "Don't worry, Spock.
I think the captain is just indulging in a little
healthy fantasy."
"I do not worry, Doctor. I am only
concerned about Starfleet losing its finest commanding
officer over a triviality."
"Thank you, Mr. Spock," Kirk said.
"But there's no need for concern. Dr. McCoy
is right. Just a little fantasy."
"What are you going to do?" McCoy asked.
"The usual, Bones. What seems like a good
idea at the time."
When they returned to the Enterprise the only
crew members awake were the night watch. Before
he went to bed Kirk checked some reports and
saw that the ship was ready to go. As was often the
case, Mr. Scott had, with his own enthusiasm,
whipped everybody into a frenzy of preparation.
The next morning Kirk was dressing when the
call came in from the bridge. Admiral
Nogura wanted to speak with him. Kirk
grunted. He knew what Nogura wanted, but
Kirk would not give it to him without a fight.
"I'll take it down here," Kirk told the
communications officer on duty.
A moment later the tight Oriental face of
Admiral Nogura came up on the screen.
He was looking down at his folded hands as if they
had a message for him. Suddenly he looked up
at Kirk as if surprised to see him. "Ah,
Kirk," Nogura said. He actually seemed
to be embarrassed. Perhaps Nogura was not prepared
to order, but only to request. If that was the case,
Kirk might win this one after all.
"Good morning, sir," Kirk said.
A few seconds went by before Nogura
responded. Starbase 12 was a long way out, and
even a subspace radio signal took
noticeable time to make a round trip.
"Is it morning there?" Nogura checked a
memoboard and said, "Of course. It would have
to be." He smiled at his own forgetfulness. People
who did not know Nogura sometimes assumed that he
was a little scatterbrained. If they
tangled with him, they found out the hard way that they were
wrong. "How are things, Kirk?"
"Fine, sir. We'll be underway in less
than an hour."
"Good. Good. I've been speaking with
Councilor Carter."
"The chair of t he committee on Starfleet
Operations."
"Yes." Nogura looked uncomfortable.
"She sends greetings and asks a favor."
"She asks that I take Hazel Payton
when the Enterprise goes to search for the mysterious
weapon."
"Yes."
"Admiral, I've already been through this with Mr.
Kent. This mission is likely to be very
dangerous, and it is no place for a civilian
with a camera in her head."
"Exactly what I told Ms. Carter. Will
you take Payton?"
Kirk doubted if Nogura had said anything like
that to Ms. Carter. He said, "You can order me
to take her."
"Damn it, Jim, don't force me do that. It
would look bad for both of us. I'll say only
that Ms. Carter and her friends can make things very hot
for Starfleet."
Kirk drummed his fingers on the table but said
nothing.
"Listen, Jim, I know how you feel. But the
truth of the matter is that taking Payton would be
good for Starfleet. Let her record anything she
likes with that implant of hers, show Mr. Kent,
Ms. Carter, and the rest of the Federation that
Starfleet has nothing to hide."
"Take the air out of Mr. Kent's
crusade."
"Exactly."
"The mission is still dangerous."
"Ms. Payton has already signed a
release. She doesn't expect to be coddled."
Nogura stared at Kirk. The smile was gone.
Nogura thought this was serious stuff, and perhaps it
was. Kirk was not happy that he could see the
virtue in Nogura's argument.
Kirk said, "All right, sir."
"Very good. Spaceman's luck, Kirk."
"One more thing, Admiral, if I may."
"Yes, Kirk?"
"Have you heard anything from the Klingons
lately?"
Nogura smiled and said, "You want to know how
they took Kent's denial that a Federation weapon
was causing their ships to disappear."
"Then you have heard from them."
"Indeed we have. And as you might expect, they
took Mr. Kent's little joke very badly. Before
they stopped shouting we were forced to show them proof that
Federation ships were disappearing as well. Then they
wanted your exploratory mission to be a joint
venture."
Kirk stiffened. The idea of a Klingon, even
a Klingon scientist, walking around freely on
his ship was repulsive. Kirk asked, "What was
finally decided?"
"We talked them into accepting a complete log
of your mission, including all scientific data
and any bright ideas any of your staff might have."
Kirk let out a breath he hadn't even been
aware he was holding. He said, "A person who
believes that toying with the enemy is a fun idea
doesn't seem like the kind I'd want for
president, let alone the kind of person I'd
allow to decide who I should carry aboard my
ship."
"I cannot speak for the presidency, Kirk, but as
for Ms. Payton, I'm afraid you're stuck.
Anything else?"
"No, sir."
"Very well. Nogura out."
Kirk called the bridge and asked the
communications officer to send captain's compliments
to Ms. Hazel Payton and request that she come
on board at her earliest convenience. The
Enterprise would get under way at
oh-nine-hundred hours ship's time, and stragglers
would be left at the dock.
Despite the fact that Kirk was not getting
anything he wanted, he was relieved that the
subject was closed. He no longer had to fight
Kent. He could concentrate on commanding the
Enterprise and getting the crew home alive.
It was possible that Nogura was right about the
recordings Payton was sure to make; but even
if he was not, let her take her pictures and do
with them what she would.
Kirk rode the turbolift to the bridge, where
things were deceptively quiet. The air was charged
with tension, as it always was just before a mission began.
Everything that could be done had already been
done, and now it was only a matter of Kirk
giving the ^w, of giving the Enterprise the single
swift kick that would send it over the cliff and
into the void.
Kirk settled into the command chair and felt the
reins tightening in his hands as departments reported
that all was ready. On the main screen Starbase
12 was pinned to the velveteen blackness of
space.
Behind him Uhura said, "Ms. Payton has
just requested permission to beam aboard."
"Granted. And Professor Omen?"
"Professor Omen beamed in half an hour
ago with what Mr. Kyle describes as a ton
of equipment."
Spock said, "I am certain Mr. Kyle
exaggerates."
It would have been polite if Omen had asked
Kirk's permission to board Enterprise.
Evidently Omen did not believe in such
niceties. "Where is the professor now?"
"He's in the physics lab. Ensign
Plumtree is helping him set up his
equipment."
"Very good. Please advise them that we get under
way in five minutes."
"Aye, Captain," said Uhura.
The turbolift hissed open, and a moment later
Payton came down next to Kirk's command
chair. She turned her head slowly, surveying
the scene as if she really were a camera. Even in
the subdued bridge lighting the sensory enhancer
sparkled in her hair.
Spock was of the opinion that by having the cranial
interface implanted Payton had allowed herself
to be mutilated. But Kirk could see a certain
logic--he smiled at the familiar ^w--in
having instant access to information, in having the
ability to record under difficult or even
life-threatening circumstances. But that didn't
mean he wanted Payton on his ship. Though,
he allowed, having her there was preferable to having a
Klingon aboard.
Sulu and Chekov glanced at Kirk,
willing, he knew, to follow his lead. The fact
that they wanted guidance indicated that they were no more
comfortable with the woman's presence than was Kirk
himself.
Kirk nodded at them reassuringly, and they
went back to work. He said, "Ms.
Payton, you are distracting my crew."
"I don't mean to, Captain. And if I
am going to make a complete record of this
voyage, I need to start from the beginning."
By her own lights she was right, of course. And
by Nogura's lights as well. Kirk had
accepted the situation, but now that he was
face-to-face with it he found it difficult
to live with. He said, "All right. Just try to stay
out of the way."
"Yes, Captain."
Had Payton smiled? Was she enjoying his
discomfort? The smile bothered Kirk, and perhaps
bothering him had been Payton's intention. She
worked for Kent, and though that did not necessarily
mean she agreed with his stand on Starfleet, that was the
way to bet, despite her obvious feelings about
Commodore Favere. Maybe she saw him as the
exception that proved the rule or some other such
foolishness.
"Captain," said Sulu, "we have one minute
and counting."
"Thank you, Helmsman. Are we cleared for
departure, Lieutenant Uhura?"
"All clear, sir."
"Very well. Mr. Sulu, all tractor
beam moorings and check lines away."
"All tractor beam moorings and check lines
away, aye," said Sulu.
"Helmsman, ahead one quarter impulse."
"One quarter impulse it is, sir."
Starbase 12 and the Enterprise became a
demonstration of simple relativity. Kirk
felt nothing, but on the main viewscreen
Starbase 12 slowly moved to one side, and then
stars poured toward him. A few minutes later
Chekov said, "We are away from Starbase 12
and free to navigate."
"Course to sector 412 laid in?"
"Aye, sir."
"How long until we arrive?"
"Six hours, twenty-three minutes at warp
four."
"Thank you, Mr. Chekov. Mr. Sulu,
engage warp drive. Warp four for sector
412."
"Aye, Captain."
The warp engines engaged, and Kirk felt a
new harmonic vibrating in his bones in so
subtle a way that if he did not
concentrate, he did not notice the vibration at
all. In a few minutes he would forget all about
it, it would become part of his being; but for the moment the
single bass note was like thunder continuously rolling
through every organ in his body.
Kirk stood and said, "Mr. Spock, will you
accompany me to the physics lab?"
"Aye, Captain," Spock said. He pushed
a few buttons on his library control board,
stood, and followed Kirk to the turbolift.
With some annoyance Kirk noticed Payton
coming after them. "Going to make a complete record
of Mr. Spock and me greeting Professor
Omen?"
"Yes, sir."
The answer was entirely without guile, but
Kirk still found it easy to dislike Payton's
attitude. "Very well," he said, sighing. If
Ms. Payton continued to be preoccupied with such
inconsequentials, she might not serve
Admiral Nogura's purpose, but she also
might be too busy to bother Kirk and his people while
they did their work. Let Conrad Franklin Kent
make a report out of formal greetings and rec
room gossip.

Chapter Six

The silence in the turbolift was nervous.
Kirk would have enjoyed asking Spock if he was
excited about meeting Professor Omen at last
--the gentle tweaking of Spock was usually
entertaining, a sport that both he and McCoy
enjoyed--but with Payton along for the ride such
tweaking was ill-advised. It would probably be
interpreted as a sign that Starfleet mistreated
its crew members.
Spock looked at Kirk speculatively,
eyebrow up. Kirk strongly suspected that
Spock enjoyed verbally fencing with him and McCoy
and was just as disappointed by Kirk's silence as
Kirk was. After all, the space between stars was
enormous, and even at warp speeds a starship could
travel for weeks or even months without encountering
anything more interesting than a hydrogen atom.
Recreation was where one found it. Sharpening one's
wit was a welcome diversion, even from reading,
three-dimensional chess, or a workout in the gym.
The ride was a short one because the science labs
were on the deck immediately below the bridge.
In the time it took to travel to Deck 2 Kirk
thought of a way to give Payton back some of her
own. At the closed physics lab door Kirk
stopped them and said, "Ms. Payton, as far as
I'm concerned, you can take a picture of anything
on the ship, but Professor Omen is a
civilian consultant, not a member of
Starfleet. I suggest you ask his permission before
you record anything." If Omen was as
secretive as he seemed to be, Kirk
suspected that Payton would never get that
permission.
Payton nodded.
Inside they stood at the door looking across the
wide expanse of the lab. One wall was a large
window that could be adjusted to transmit or block
any ray or particle known to Federation science.
Normally it filtered out the dangerous stuff. The
room was filled with big machines, dinosaurlike
viewers, counters, sorters, and analyzers that
dwarfed the men who worked on one of them at the far
end of the room. One wore the blue shirt of the
science section, and the other a simple gray
coverall.
Spock asked, "Are you getting all this,
Ms. Payton?"
Kirk knew he would deny it, but he
suspected Spock was being sarcastic. In any
case, Spock's question succeeded in surprising
Payton. She said, "Why, yes, thank you."
The two men did not look up as Kirk,
Spock, and Payton approached them. Kirk
had met Plumtree once or twice. He was
a thin man with sandy hair that seemed more like a brown
cloud resting around his head than real hair. He
was entirely human, but he constantly wore the
expression of a worried turtle.
For a few seconds they watched Omen and
Plumtree hold a machine by two handles and
point the flashing probe among the circuits
inside a tall metal column that supported a
large cone circled with radiation rings. The metal
column was as big around as an elephant's
leg. The probe rang like a tiny bell as it
flashed.
"May I be of assistance?" Spock asked.
The older of the two men, the one in the coverall,
looked at the three of them, apparently noticing
Kirk, Spock, and Payton for the first time. He
was a little taller than medium height,
with a muscular build and the face of a determined
Pan. Beards were not popular in the Federation at
that moment, but this man wore one. It framed his
face in black, making him look sinister. Even
his pleasant smile could not entirely dispel
Kirk's impression that this man--certainly
Professor Omen--generally found a way to get
what he wanted and didn't worry about his
methods. Kirk wondered idly who would win a
test of wills between Omen and Payton.
"No, thank you. We'll manage." It was the
same cultured voice that Kirk had heard
speaking with Bahia Slocum. Omen sounded a little
tired, as if speaking to mere mortals was
difficult and not worth the energy used. He and
Plumtree pulled out their probes, and Omen
pushed a button that lowered the cover plate.
Kirk officially welcomed Omen and then
introduced himself and Mr. Spock. When he
introduced Payton she shook Omen's hand and
said, "How do you do, Professor? I will be using
my cranial interface to record the search for
whatever is destroying our ships. I hope that you
will allow me to feature your part." She waited,
watching him carefully.
Omen merely glared at her. He had the
blackest eyes that Kirk had ever seen. He
seemed to look through her face into her mind, into her
soul, into that place that held the thing that made her
what she was. Payton was a beautiful woman,
yes, but Omen didn't seem to be entranced by her
beauty. He studied her the way he might study
a natural phenomenon he was seeing for the first time.
It was a powerful stare, and Payton had to look
away.
Kirk expected him to refuse Payton in
no uncertain terms, but instead Omen said, "Of
course, my dear. Posterity must be served."
"Thank you."
"Well, Professor," Kirk said, "do you
have any idea what we might be up against?"
"Theorizing in the absence of data is always
fruitless, Captain. I have suspicions.
Nothing more."
"Mr. Spock has a similar attitude
toward theorizing. I'm sure the two of you will get
along."
Now Omen's gaze raked over Spock.
Spock withstood it--the immovable object to the
irresistible force of Omen's stare.
Omen said, "You are a Vulcan, are you not,
Mr. Spock?"
"I am."
"Vulcans are known for their pacific ways.
I am always surprised seeing one serving on a
warship."
"The Enterprise is not a warship, sir.
Our mission is peaceful. We explore the
galaxy, help beings whenever we can, bring Federation
civilization to those who want it and would benefit
by having it."
Omen said, "You forget that I designed the
weapons aboard your ship, Mr. Spock. I
know a warship when I see one."
"Your attitude is most unusual."
"So you say."
Omen obviously did not agree with Spock,
yet he seemed unwilling to argue, maybe for the
same reason he sounded so weary. Maybe he was
just bored by anything he couldn't reduce to an
equation. But neither Omen's boredom nor his
intelligence explained the attitude Spock
described as "most unusual." Kirk only
wished it were unusual; it seemed very much like Conrad
Franklin Kent's attitude. Starfleet was
apparently surrounded by enemies where it might
reasonably expect to find friends.
Hoping to change the subject, Kirk said,
"Conrad Franklin Kent led us to believe that your
information about the disappearances was more than
suspicion."
A smile appeared briefly on
Professor Omen's lips. He said, "I know
only that the weapon used does not belong to the
Federation."
"I see. Mr. Kent agrees with you on that,
anyway. He assured me that you had some
theories."
"Mr. Kent and I briefly discussed the
matter of the disappearances. Perhaps he drew
conclusions that I failed to see."
Kirk considered Omen's supposition to be
unlikely. Had Kent lied, or had he merely
been mistaken? Was Omen lying to Kirk now?
Impossible to know, under the circumstances. Kirk
knew only that he didn't like being lied to, no
matter who the liar was or what the reason. And he
found Omen's ignorance suspicious.
Short of dragging Omen down to security for a
lie-detector test, Kirk had few
options, and even fewer that appealed. He could
bicker with Omen, send an angry message
to Kent, or merely allow the situation to unfold.
He was not by nature a patient man, and yet
Kirk knew a hopeless state of affairs when
he saw one. He could hope to learn more only
by keeping his eyes and ears open. He said,
"Perhaps. Congratulations on your new shield
generator."
With surprising distaste Omen said, "Thank you,
Captain."
Spock said, "I am curious to know how you
achieved a protective field of that density and
strength. The reports are vague on that
subject, but I assume you have learned how
to alternate the polarity of the screening fields."
For the first time Omen seemed excited. Of
course, they were discussing a technical problem.
"No, Mr. Spock. I have actually done
something much more elegant. Instead of alternating the
field as was once the custom with electric
current, I actually switch the field on and
off thousands of times every nanosecond."
"I see," said Spock. "That would allow the
generator to establish a stronger deflector
field without burning out the coils. You must have
modified the delta hyperdyne."
"Exactly, Mr. Spock. Look here."
He walked to a computer terminal and began to type
furiously. "As you can see, the third integral
becomes indeterminate when the subfrequency is
high enough."
Spock nodded. "Absolutely
brilliant."
"Gentlemen," Kirk said, "I'd like to stay and
watch you tiptoe through the mathematics, but I have a
ship to run. We reach sector 412 in something
less than six hours. Will you be ready to cast your
sensor net by then, Professor?"
"If you can spare Mr. Spock."
Kirk counted it a triumph that Professor
Omen had thawed enough to accept Spock as a worthy
coworker. "I think we can get along without him for a
few hours. Ms. Payton, what's your
pleasure?"
"I'd like to stay and observe for a while."
"Very well."
While Kirk rode back to the bridge alone
he thought about the nest of mysteries in which he was
sitting. There was the main mystery of the
disappearances, of course. After that the minor
mysteries crowded around, each demanding an answer.
Who was lying about what, and why? Why had
Professor Omen, a man who disliked
publicity so much he would not show up at a dinner
thrown in his own honor, allow Payton
to record his activities? And why had Omen
almost spit when Kirk complimented him on the
successful test of his new shields?

A few hours later Spock and Omen came
up to the bridge talking to each other in language
so technical, Kirk did not understand one ^w in
three, and the ^ws he did understand dredged up
concepts he remembered only vaguely from
Academy science classes. Payton followed
at a respectful distance, and she missed nothing.
At the library computer console Spock and Omen
began adjusting the sensors to take advantage
of the machinery down in the physics lab.
Chekov said, "Entering sector 412 in ten
minutes, Captain."
"Very good. Mr. Spock, are you and the
professor ready?"
"Aye, Captain."
"Sulu, when we enter the sector, drop
to full impulse power."
"Aye, sir."
"Mr. Spock, you and the professor may
proceed at will."
"Aye, Captain."
On the main viewscreen was the star-filled
void. Kirk knew that the senses of the
Enterprise would soon stretch through the emptiness
to their limits, feeling, seeing, hearing in many
registers, in many frequencies, at many levels
of being. If anything was out there, Spock and Omen
would find it; Kirk was confident of that. He was
less confident that the Enterprise would be able
to handle whatever it was. Starships that disappeared
without a trace had obviously encountered something very
powerful and unusual indeed.
For a while everyone on the bridge was
vigilant, watching and listening like sailors hoping
for landfall. But the tension and expectation relaxed
with time. Chekov sang out as each sector was
covered and abandoned; people became bored with the
repetition.
Payton left the bridge--fffind more exciting
subjects for her implant, Kirk
supposed. The search continued.
"Engineering to Captain Kirk."
"Kirk here, Scotty. What is it?"
"It's that woman, sir. She won't leave
my people alone. If I didn't know better,
I'd say she was also upsetting the engines."
Kirk smiled. "Is she actually preventing
anyone from working?"
"No, sir, but she's making everyone nervous.
We're engineers, not performers."
"Steady as you go, Scotty. Ignore her if
you can."
"Aye, Captain," Scott said
uncertainly.
The search went on all that day, leaving Kirk
with very little to do. Every so often the tedium was broken by a
call to the bridge from some section leader who would
complain that Payton was poking around--asking questions,
recording whatever the crew members were doing. Every
time, Kirk told them approximately the same
thing he'd told Scotty. He hated putting his
crew through this, but Nogura had suggested it was for the
ultimate good of Starfleet; an admiral's
suggestion had to be taken seriously.
The watch changed, and the night crew came on
duty. Spock set the sensors on
automatic. If they detected anything they could
not identify, he and Omen would be called immediately.
Kirk went down to the officers' mess with the rest
of the day watch. He found McCoy there sullenly
sipping coffee. Kirk got the meat loaf dinner
and coffee from the replicator and sat down
opposite him. He said, "What's the matter,
Bones, lose a tongue depressor?"
"I just gave Ms. Payton and her implant
a tour of sickbay."
Kirk put the best light he could on it. "Not
entirely unpleasant, Bones. Ms. Payton
is a very pretty woman."
"She's damned impertinent. She questioned everything
--my methods, my equipment, my staff. According
to her, everything we have either costs too much, is
outdated, or has not been properly tested. According
to her, the most modern medical facility in
Starfleet is a chamber of horrors. I finally
ran her off."
"I see."
"Now she's over there with that bearded man, thick
as thieves. I didn't know beards were
regulation."
Kirk looked in the direction McCoy had
nodded and said, "That, my good doctor, is
Professor Omen." Omen and Payton were
whispering to each other with some urgency.
"Spock must be in hog heaven."
"It's difficult to tell."
"Yeah." McCoy drank more coffee and went
on. "What do you think they're talking about?"
Kirk had been wondering the same thing. It was
possible that Payton was merely interviewing
Omen, but the conversation had the wrong rhythm for that;
an interview usually consisted of short questions and
long answers. Payton looked around as she and
Omen spoke in short, hurried bursts. Not
even as captain of the ship did Kirk feel
authorized to demand to know the contents of a private
conversation.
"Probably plotting the violent overthrow of the
Federation," McCoy said.
"Probably not. Listen, Bones, I don't
like having them around either. But Payton is a guest
of Starfleet, and Omen is the most respected
weapons expert in the Federation. They're
authorized to be here, and each of them has a
function." He thought of Payton and Kent
putting their little documentary together. "I
suppose."
"I don't know about Omen, but evidently
Ms. Payton's function is to drive us all
crazy."
"You exaggerate."
"Give her a few days and see if I
exaggerate."
Kirk went to bed half expecting to be
summoned to the bridge at any time. He lay in
his bunk with his eyes open. But nothing happened, and
after a while he used a Vulcan technique
Spock had taught him and was able to fall
asleep.

When Kirk arrived on the bridge the next
morning he found Spock and Omen already at work
making minute adjustments to the pattern and
sensitivity of the sensor net. Payton was there,
too, catching everything with her implant.
He'd barely sat down when Spock said,
"Captain, we have something."
Every muscle in Kirk's body tightened.
"On screen."
The view changed, and the screen showed
what looked like a rock approaching them slowly.
Kirk studied it for a moment before he asked,
"What is it, Spock?"
Blue light shone up into Spock's face as
he peered into the sensor readout. "It is an
asteroid approximately five kilometers
across. It is composed mainly of iron, nickel,
and traces of lead. Sensors also indicate that it
is fitted with a good deal of manufactured
equipment."
"What sort of equipment?"
"Unknown, Captain. The readings are
inconclusive."
"Magnification five," Kirk said.
The picture rippled, and the rock became an
asteroid covered with sensor dishes, warp
cylinders, weapons bays, and spikes,
plates, and bumps that Kirk could not identify.
"I don't recognize most of that gear,"
Kirk said, "but it doesn't look alien."
"Indeed not, Captain. Definitely of
human design."
Kirk asked, "Could this be what we're looking
for, Professor Omen?"
"I think I can guarantee it, Captain."
Kirk turned around. Omen was standing next
to Spock watching the asteroid approach with a
placid, nearly beatific expression on his
face.
"Guarantee it, Professor? What do you
mean by that?"
"I built everything you see there, Captain.
That asteroid is my home."

Chapter Seven

Kirk was so astonished that for some seconds he
did not know what to say. As he
surreptitiously touched the button on the arm of
his chair that would bring a security team to the
bridge, he asked, "Your home?"
"Yes, Captain." Omen spoke calmly.
"I call it Erehwon."
Spock said, "After the ideal commonwealth in
Samuel Butler's book of the same name, I
assume."
"Very good, Mr. Spock. I see that you are a
well-rounded Vulcan."
Kirk suddenly remembered Khan and his
preoccupation with John Milton. Why
did the crazy ones always have an interest in the
classics? Maybe large egos needed
to identify with large work--it allowed them to feel
superior. Maybe they felt it added
credibility to their causes.
Payton watched all this with wide worried
eyes, but she did not seem surprised by what
Omen had said.
Spock said, "The asteroid has stopped
relative to us and one thousand kilometers off our
bow."
Omen continued to stand casually next to Mr.
Spock, who was watching as if Omen were part of a
play, with interest and yet with detachment.
Kirk stood and turned to confront Omen. "You
said you knew nothing about the disappearances."
"No, Captain. I said the weapon used
does not belong to the Federation, as indeed it does
not. It belongs to me."
Two security men swarmed onto the bridge,
and Kirk said, "Escort Professor Omen
to the brig."
The lead security man nodded. He and the other
man approached Omen, phasers drawn.
"The military mind is ridiculous," Omen
said.
With a single deft squeeze of Omen's shoulder
Spock dropped him to the deck.
"Thank you, Mr. Spock. Security,
take him to the brig."
The security men lifted Omen between them and
carried him away. Meanwhile Spock looked
into his sensor viewer.
"Ridiculous is as ridiculous does, eh,
Spock?"
"As you say, Captain."
"Anything new from Erehwon?"
"Erehwon is showing minimal power readings of a
nature I cannot identify."
"Are we in any danger?"
"Unknown, Captain, but the amount of power in
use is very small. I suggest it is maintaining
status."
"Understood. Is anybody over there?"
"I see trees and what may be other
decorative plants, but no intelligent
life."
"Very well. Mr. Sulu, you have the bridge.
Uhura, please ask Dr. McCoy to join
Mr. Spock and me in the brig. And
tell him to bring a medikit."
"Aye, sir."
Payton followed Kirk and Spock to the
turbolift. Kirk was going to forbid her to come with
them but then decided against it. She would only argue
with him, and besides, he had a few questions for her.
In the turbolift Kirk asked Payton,
"How much do you know about this?"
The surprise that Kirk had missed in
Payton's face before came up now. She said,
"Why do you ask?" Kirk was aware that everything
any of them said or did was being recorded. He
wondered if Payton remembered--she looked
pretty shaken up.
"For one thing, Omen allowed you to record him.
For another, you seemed to be expecting that asteroid
or something like it."
"Ask Professor Omen your questions."
"That's what Mr. Kent always said."
"I'm saying it, too. Omen will explain
everything."
Kirk looked at her dubiously.
"Really," said Payton.
Kirk felt that they were reaching some sort of
climax, and that Payton might be right. He would
get answers at last, if not from Omen, then
certainly when they explored Erehwon. With the
arrival of the asteroid the game was certainly up;
keeping secrets would be pointless. Kirk
wondered if by this time tomorrow they would be on their way
back to Starbase 23 and shore leave. He said,
"What do you think, Spock?"
"Nothing yet, Captain. Except to observe
that Professor Omen obviously has his own
agenda, and the technical knowledge to carry it out."
"So far."
"Yes, sir. But I must point out that we have
no idea what Professor Omen's asteroid
is capable of doing."
"Care to comment, Ms. Payton?"
Payton hugged herself and leaned into the wall of the
turbolift. She might know what was going on, but
Kirk judged that she did not agree with it
entirely. Though she was still recording, at the
moment she was apparently recording the floor of the
turbolift.
McCoy was waiting for them down in the brig.
He glanced at Payton with distaste and said,
"What's going on, Jim?"
"It seems that Professor Omen
is responsible for the disappearance of the starships."
"You don't say," McCoy said. The
revelation seemed to please him. He said, "I
hope that Kent is in on it, too." He looked
in through the security field at Omen, who was
sprawled on the sleeping shelf in the cell.
"Any comment yet, Ms. Payton?" Kirk
asked.
She shook her head.
"Bones, would you awaken Professor Omen?"
"What's wrong with him?"
Spock said, "I found it necessary to render him
unconscious."
"The famous Vulcan nerve pinch. I see."
He nodded to the security man at the doorway,
and the field disappeared with a snap. McCoy entered
the cell and touched Omen's neck with a hypo. It
hissed, and a moment later Omen sat up
groggily. McCoy stood near him, watching.
Kirk knew that as far as McCoy was concerned, a
patient was a patient; he didn't play
favorites. McCoy waved the rest of them in,
and the guard raised the field again.
"How do you feel?" Kirk asked Omen.
"I maintain, Captain. I maintain. How
was it done?"
"Knocking you out? Ask Mr. Spock."
Spock said, "It was merely a matter of
applied humanoid physiology."
Omen smiled weakly. "Ah, the Vulcan
nerve pinch. I have heard of it but never expected
to experience it. Very interesting." He mused for a
moment. Kirk became impatient with the tea-party
atmosphere the interrogation was taking on. He
said, "We want some answers, Professor."
"Yes. Yes, of course. I am prepared
to give you all the answers you are capable of
understanding."
"Thanks," said Kirk dryly. He'd had a
bellyful of smugly superior passengers.
"But perhaps," Omen said, "Ms. Payton would
care to begin."
Payton looked startled and sat down on the
shelf at Omen's feet. Omen went on,
"Oh, yes, Ms. Payton. You are not just
along for the ride. As Conrad Franklin Kent's
chief aide you have a certain responsibility
to uphold the cause."
"Cause, Ms. Payton?" Kirk asked.
Payton shuddered as she drew herself
together. She said, "As you certainly know,
Captain, Mr. Kent feels that Starfleet
has more interest in starting wars than in preventing
them."
"I've heard his theories, Ms. Payton."
"He thinks they'll help him become
president of the Federation Council," McCoy
said.
Payton said, "He's a politician. He
can't help having a plan for becoming president
any more than the captain can help having a plan
of battle. Floundering around would be idiotic."
"All right," Kirk said. "I think we're
getting off the track. What do Mr. Kent's
theories have to do with that asteroid out there?" He
hooked a thumb at the bulkhead.
Payton waited for Omen to say something. When
he did not, she went on. "Mr. Kent made
no secret of his feelings. Professor Omen
came to him and offered to give him proof that he was
right."
"What sort of proof?"
"I don't know. I don't think Mr. Kent
knows either."
Kirk said, "Then as far as Conrad Franklin
Kent was concerned, our mission was never to find the
source of the new weapon, but to contact Omen's
asteroid."
Payton shook her head. "Not exactly. I
didn't know about Omen's asteroid, and I don't
believe that Mr. Kent did either. Professor
Omen said he had proof, and Mr. Kent sent me
to record it. That's all I know."
"Funny priorities you people have," McCoy
said.
"I didn't intend to attempt to keep
Enterprise from searching for the weapon. As far as
Mr. Kent and I knew, Professor Omen
had no such intentions either."
Despite Payton's convincing arguments,
Kirk felt disgust growing. When too many people had
their own secret agendas, someone was bound to wind
up with the short stick. Kirk disliked the
suspicion that in this case he was the one. He
asked, "Who else knew our real mission?
Favere? Nogura?"
Payton fidgeted and said she didn't know.
"Professor Omen and Mr. Kent had been
communicating for a long time. My guess is that when
they heard about the disappearances
Professor Omen and Mr. Kent used them as
an excuse to get us all together out here."
"Out here for what?"
"Out here to be part of Professor Omen's
proof."
"Which you still don't know," McCoy said.
Kirk wondered if anything Payton said was
true. At this point, perhaps it didn't matter.
Who knew what when did not concern Kirk as much
as what he would do about the situation as it stood.
After allowing a moment of silence to pass
Spock said, "It seems, Professor, that it
is your turn to speak at last."
Omen rubbed his forehead, and McCoy set a
hand on his shoulder. Omen said, "That's all right,
Doctor. My head is quite clear."
"Go on," said Kirk.
"Patience, Captain. I will tell you in my
own way, and in my own good time." He rubbed the
spot where Spock had pinched him. "Very
interesting," he said again. "I intend
to demonstrate the proof of Mr. Kent's thesis
by remedying a long-standing error in my judgment."
"And that is?" Kirk asked.
"As you know, Captain, I've spent the
major part of my adult life supplying the
Federation with weapons of great destruction."
Kirk was inclined to argue that those weapons had
been used for defense, but he didn't want
to sidetrack the conversation again. "And the error in
judgment?"
"Designing those weapons of war, of course.
I have remedied my error by designing a weapon of
peace." He half closed his eyes, then leaned
over to ask Payton if she was all right. She
said she was fine and waved him away.
Kirk refused to rise to Omen's bait, and
apparently Spock felt the same way. Kirk
was certain that before many minutes passed Omen would
no longer be able to endure keeping the explanation
to himself, and it would burst out of him. His ego would
demand it.
McCoy said, "Are you going to tell us what a
weapon of peace is, or do we have to guess?"
Good old Bones.
Omen was only partly successful suppressing
a smile, and he said, "In a manner of
speaking, I have built a better mousetrap. I
have invented an Aleph."
They waited again. This time McCoy
merely folded his arms.
Spock said, "Cantor used the aleph, the
first letter of the Hebrew alphabet, to notate the
transfinite number, any part of which is as large
as the whole."
"Quite correct, Mr. Spock. It is also
an ancient cabalistic symbol for the godhead.
It is also said to be the shape of a man pointing
to both Heaven and Earth, in order to show that the lower
world reflects the higher."
"If you are trying to be obtuse on
purpose," Kirk said, "you are succeeding."
Omen did not look at Kirk but said with
annoyance, "I am speaking of difficult
abstract things. I hoped that by grounding them in the
culture of Earth they would be easier to understand.
Perhaps I should not have tried."
"Perhaps you should get to the point," McCoy said.
"Very well, my impatient friend, I will. My
Aleph is named after a literary construct in a
story by a twentieth-century writer named
Borges. He described his Aleph as a
single mathematical point, a nexus where all
parts of the universe touch, and perhaps all parts of
all universes touch."
Kirk was entirely at a loss, but Spock
said, "Fascinating. I have read about such things, but
only as theoretical demonstrations designed as
entertainment. The reality would be"--he stared at
Omen--?a topological nightmare."
"Only for those who do not understand it," Omen said.
Kirk was always in awe of people who read
mathematical journals for recreation. He could
pilot a starship without a computer if he had to,
but his mathematics was a tool that he used to solve
particular problems, just as a screwdriver was
meant to tighten or loosen screws. For Kirk,
abstract mathematics was just so much smoke,
mirrors, and tap-dancing. "Nightmare or
dream," Kirk said, "I don't see how a
mathematical abstraction can be used as a
weapon."
"The mouse rarely understands the trap,
Captain. Would you be less confused if I told
you that I sent every missing starship--Klingon,
Romulan, and Federation--through an Aleph?"
Kirk's level of confusion was not something he
cared to discuss with Omen. He asked, "Where are
they now?"
Spock was about to say something. Perhaps
he knew from his reading where starships sent through an
Aleph would go. In any case, he did not say
but allowed Omen to answer.
Omen said, "Gone."
"Just gone?" McCoy asked. "That's a little
vague, isn't it?"
"It is my best answer, Doctor. I'm not
really certain myself where they go. The mathematics
remains inconclusive. But I know this I
killed no one. The ships just go where they will no
longer bother anyone."
"And the crews?" Kirk asked.
Omen sagged, and when he spoke he sounded
tired. He said, "They are not my concern. In
sacrificing their hundreds of lives I am
saving thousands, millions."
"Still," Spock said, "the crews did not have a
choice."
"No more than did the beings who were fired upon
by Federation starships."
Kirk thought he saw a pattern forming, but parts
of it were still missing. He asked, "How much did
Kent know about this Aleph of yours?"
"Nothing. I promised him proof that
Starfleet was warlike. That was all."
Everyone was s ilent for a moment.
"But there is no proof," Spock finally said.
"No proof," Omen agreed. "Only my
new method for ridding the galaxy of war."
Kirk tried to be reasonable when he said, "I
can understand your desire to stop war. Believe it or
not, Professor, we all want to stop war. But
don't you think your method is a little extreme?"
"War and peace are extremes. Why should my
method be any less so?"
Omen was obviously crazy. Still brilliant,
but something had pushed him over a psychological
edge. He was already in the brig, which Kirk
considered to be a good first step toward preventing him
from carrying out whatever his plan was. If they could
get him back to Starbase 12, he would get the
care he needed. Very few mental illnesses were
untreatable.
Spock said, "So far, sir, you have acted in
secret. It is obvious from Ms. Payton's
presence that you have decided to publicize your
activities."
"Correct, Mr. Spock. And that is why
I so carefully used Mr. Kent to maneuver the
Enterprise into its present position."
Omen's admission triggered something in Kirk.
Suddenly he knew why Omen had gone to all the
trouble. He said, "The Enterprise is the
flagship of the fleet. It is the most desirable
mouse of all."
"I hope the truth does not swell your head,
Captain."
McCoy said, "I hope, Ms. Payton,
that you realize you and Mr. Kent have gotten us
into one fine mess."
"Mr. Kent is very sincere about his position."
"What about you, Ms. Payton?" Kirk
asked.
"I am only a camera, Captain. You and
Professor Omen would be doing pretty much what
you're doing now even if I were not here."
"But," said McCoy, "it wouldn't become part
of Kent's political campaign."
Payton met McCoy's gaze and held it.
They were both certain they were correct, and in the
universe of discourse, perhaps there was room for both
points of view.
Payton had a reputation as a woman who
got the job done. At Kent's bidding she had
begun the process that had led the Enterprise
into the dangerous position in which the ship now found
herself. Payton claimed that she hadn't known what
Omen had in mind, and that in fact, Kent hadn't
either. Did that make her less guilty? Kirk
didn't know. But he was so astonished by this whole
business that he momentarily felt justified
blaming anybody for anything.
On the other hand, what was Payton to Kirk
or Kirk to her? She owed her loyalty to Kent,
just as the crew of the Enterprise owed its loyalty
to Kirk. But wouldn't that change if Kirk went
crazy? Wasn't it the responsibility of a
crew to stop taking orders, to stop being loyal,
if the orders of the person in charge stopped making
sense?
Apparently Kent's orders still made sense
to Payton. Or they had until this conversation.
Payton had never declared her own opinion of
Starfleet, and that caused Kirk to suspect that
she was less sympathetic to Kent's crusade
than she pretended. However, even if Payton
was more or less on Kirk's side, he balked
at the idea of depending on her goodwill to save
his ship.
And given her feelings, Kirk
wondered why she worked for Kent. Many answers were
possible, and though Kirk was curious,
ultimately the answer didn't matter. Not
now, anyway. Not at the moment. He said,
"Kent was right about one thing, anyway. You,
Professor Omen, were able to explain everything."
Omen nodded formally.
"Mr. Spock, have Scotty take the
Erehwon in tow. We leave for Starbase 12
immediately. Best speed."
"Aye, Captain."
Omen stopped Spock from moving toward the
corridor by saying, "Despite our discussion,
Captain, you continue to underestimate me. I will
give the orders now."
"Oh, really? And what are your orders?" He
knew that Omen was powerless, yet his cold
certainty disturbed Kirk.
"You will wait here until I am ready to deal
with you." Before any of them could move to stop him
Omen pulled back the sleeve of his uniform
to reveal what appeared to be a heavily jeweled
bracelet. He touched a green gem, and a cloud
of transporter sparkle enveloped him.
Seconds later he was gone.
"I thought the brig was insulated against
transporter beams."
Kirk knew McCoy was correct. He
asked, "Spock?"
"Omen's transporter effect appears to be
quite different from standard Federation issue.
Obviously the differences are more than
cosmetic."
The ship shook once, convulsively. Kirk
strode to an intercom, pounded the button with his
fist, and said, "Bridge, this is the captain.
What's going on up there?"
"Sulu here, sir. We're being held by some
kind of tractor beam."
"Come on, Spock."
"What about her?" McCoy asked.
Kirk looked back at Payton. She
seemed to be uncertain of her status, and the truth
was that Kirk also had his questions. He went with his gut
feelings and said, "For better or worse, she's
still a guest of Starfleet." He and Spock ran
for the turbolift. McCoy was not far behind. The
three of them rode to the bridge, where Kirk
called, "Status, Mr. Sulu?" as they
walked to their stations. McCoy stood
next to Kirk's chair. They all studied the
asteroid on the main screen.
"No change, Captain," said Sulu.
"We're being held."
"Spock?"
"Confirmed that the source of the beam is Omen's
asteroid." He turned the readout selection
wheel on the side of the hood and went on. "It
is several orders of magnitude stronger than
any known Federation tractor beam, and the energy
signature is a type with which I am
unfamiliar."
"Our fish seems to have caught us," McCoy
said.
"All the worse for the fish. Chekov, plot a
course back to Starbase 12."
Chekov pressed a few buttons and said,
"Done, Captain."
"All right." He looked at Mr. Spock,
who rewarded him with raised eyebrows.
"I hope you know what you're doing, Jim,"
McCoy said.
Kirk gave a tiny shrug for McCoy's
eyes only and said, "Mr. Sulu, ahead one
quarter impulse."
The ship vibrated, first at a level that was
nearly imperceptible, then more strongly. The
impulse engines began to labor. The picture
on the screen remained the same.
"We're not moving, Captain," Sulu said.
"One half impulse."
The vibration became a definite shuddering. The
impulse engines moaned like a wounded animal.
Kirk held on tight as he said, "Three
quarter impulse."
"Scotty to bridge. Captain, we're
shaking apart down here!"
Spock said, "Our results are nil,
Captain. And we will soon permanently damage
the ship."
Kirk glanced in Spock's direction.
Kirk knew that expression. Spock was waiting
for him to make the logical decision. And why not?
Kirk had no hunches this time, so he succumbed
and did the logical thing. "All right, Mr.
Sulu. Cut all engines."
"Aye, Captain."
The vibration and the noise went away. They were still
dead in space relative to the Erehwon, and
none the better off for their attempt
to pull it. Unless Omen had found something out there
to hang on to, what he was doing was impossible.
"Is he just matching his engines against ours,
Spock?" Kirk asked.
"Sensors show no engine activity."
"Then how is he holding us in place?"
Kirk asked.
"Omen suggested a theory in a recent
publication that might account for it." Spock
became lost in a theoretical haze.
"Spock?"
"Yes, Captain. I was merely deliberating
on how the theory might apply."
"And your conclusion?"
"Professor Omen spoke of a
hyper-anchor. In theory, he could hold us with a
tractor beam and attach Erehwon to the very
fabric of the space-time continuum."
"It is not possible," Chekov said.
"Evidently, Ensign," Spock said, "you
are mistaken."
For a moment nothing happened. The bridge was
filled with waiting. Then Kirk said, "Spock,
can you pinpoint the source of either the tractor beam
or the hyper-anchor?"
"Aye, Captain. I have the tractor beam
generator on sensors."
"Give the coordinates to Chekov. Fire
phasers on my command."
"I have the coordinates," Chekov said.
"Ready with phasers."
"Fire."
Kirk heard the familiar warbling of the phasers
as they struck out at the asteroid. The spot where
they touched flared up through the spectrum and then
turned black. Kirk was reminded of the
deflector test back at Starbase 12.
"Hold fire. Spock?"
"We are still being held, Captain." He
turned to look at Kirk and said, "Apparently
Professor Omen did not wait for the official
test results before equipping his asteroid with his
new shields."
Kirk knew that he had little chance of destroying
the tractor beam generator or the hyper-anchor
--even if he could find its source--with any
weapon aboard the Enterprise. Omen would have
made sure of that. But Kirk could not give up
without a fight.
Was he thereby proving all of Omen's
theories about Starfleet? Kirk had to believe in
himself and in his good intentions. He was fighting to free
his ship and no more. Omen could make of that what he
would.
"Uhura, send a message to Starbase 12
informing them of our position and our status. Tell
Commodore Favere that Professor Omen's
asteroid is the source of the weapon."
Surprised, Uhura said, "Aye, sir."
"Tell him we will attempt to restrain Omen
from taking any further action, and that we will
transmit updates as we learn more."
Bold talk, Kirk thought. Why had no other
ship sent such a message? He said, "Ready
photon torpedo, Mr. Chekov."
"Aye, sir."
"Captain ..."
"I know, Spock. Fire at will, Mr.
Chekov."
The photon torpedo whooshed deep in the
bowels of the ship, and a deflector field
appeared around Erehwon. The torpedo exploded
as it struck the shield. When the glare faded ,
everything was as it had been.
"Tractor beam?"
"Still holding, sir," Chekov said.
Uhura said, "Captain, I'm
transmitting, but nothing is getting through. Some
sort of interference from Erehwon."
Kirk rubbed his chin and said, "It really is
pointless, isn't it, Mr. Spock?"
"That is my best guess, Captain."
When Payton stepped down to stand next
to McCoy, Kirk said, "I hope you're
getting some interesting recordings, Ms.
Payton."
"Captain, I don't know what you think of
me, but I assure you that I am as appalled as
you are."
"I doubt if that's possible, Ms.
Payton. Mr. Sulu, let's try shearing off
at right angles to the beam. Full impulse
power."
"Aye, Captain."
Uhura said, "Captain, I'm receiveg a
message from the asteroid."
"Belay that order, Mr. Sulu. Put it on
screen, Lieutenant."
The asteroid and starscape wavered and were
replaced by the tired, sour face of
Professor Omen. He said, "Are you quite
finished, Captain Kirk? You are wasting time and
energy for which both of us have better use."
"Free my ship."
"That is quite impossible, Captain. The
Enterprise is destined for a more historic role
than your humble return to Starbase 12."
"You can't withstand the pounding of a Constitution-class
starship forever." Kirk was only guessing, and he
suspected that Omen knew of Kirk's
uncertainty.
Omen said, "I designed the weapons on your
ship, Captain, and I guarantee that I can.
With the new technology I have developed around the
Aleph, I can do as many as six impossible things
before breakfast."
Now the guy was quoting Through the
Looking-Glass. More classics. Kirk
wondered where it would end.
Omen said, "No Federation ship of any class
has been able to escape the Aleph. The
Romulans could not escape. The Klingons could not
escape. And neither will you." The screen went
blank.
"End of transmission, sir," Lieutenant
Uhura said.
"It looks," said McCoy, "as if we are
about to go where no one has gone before."

Chapter Eight

Payton said, "Mr. Kent was right about one thing
at least. Federation starships cannot perform
miracles."
McCoy said angrily, "Give Jim
Kirk and the Enterprise some time, and they'll
perform miracles that'll make your head spin."
"Thank you for that vote of confidence, Doctor.
Meeting in the briefing room in five minutes.
Lieutenant Uhura, get that historian--
what's his name, Foss?--ffattend. And Mr.
Scott. Mr. Spock? Doctor? You come
along, too, Ms. Payton. I wouldn't want
you to miss anything interesting. And Uhura--get
through that interference."
"Yes, sir."
A few minutes later Kirk was sitting at
the head of the briefing room table. Foss was a
tall, thin man who peered around him as if he
needed old-fashioned glasses and had mislaid
them. He kept nervously looking at Payton,
remembering where he was, and then hastily
scratching notes on his memoboard with a stylus.
Kirk ordered Foss to find out everything he could
about Professor Omen. "I want to know what
makes him tick. I want to know his strengths and
weaknesses. See Mr. Spock or one of his people
if you need help with any of the technical
information."
"Aye, sir."
"Well, get to it, Mr. Foss."
"Aye, sir." Foss leapt from his chair and
hurried from the room.
"Options, gentlemen?" Kirk said.
Scott said, "I've read all the engineering
abstracts on Professor Omen's work. If
half his theories are correct, and he's built
weapons based on the correct half, we're just
not equipped to fight him."
"Mr. Spock, can you be a little more
optimistic?"
"No, Captain. I believe that Mr.
Scott has described the essence of our
situation. Professor Omen has intimate knowledge
of our weapons and deflectors. We have no knowledge of
his, except for the small amount of information
we've gleaned trying to escape. I suggest we
parley."
"No technical solutions, Spock?"
McCoy asked with some surprise.
"Not at this time, Doctor. But the problem
does merit further study."
"Doctor? Ms. Payton?"
Payton said, "I would be delighted to record
one of those Starfleet miracles for posterity,
Captain."
"I'll see what I can do. Disappointing
Mr. Kent would give me great pleasure.
Doctor?"
McCoy studied Spock for a moment and then
said, "I know what you're thinking."
"Why, Doctor," Spock said, "I had no
idea telepathy was among your skills."
"You're thinking that Professor Omen's idea
is logical. It makes a lot of sense.
Without starships there can't be any wars."
"There is a fallacy in your argument,
Doctor, and in Professor Omen's also. The
members of many species were killing one another with
clubs long before the invention of the photon torpedo
--among them, yours and mine. If starships no
longer existed, beings would find some other way
to deliver their weapons. The Organians tried
to bring peace to the galaxy using methods
considerably more sophisticated than Professor
Omen's, and even they have not yet been entirely
successful."
Kirk smiled. He said, "You think that he who
lives by the Aleph will die the same way?"
"I think that Professor Omen has not thought
his premise through completely. Such lack of
rigor frequently causes one's plans
to explode in one's face."
Kirk said, "So he's not perfect. Omen
may be smart, but he's neither a god nor a
superman. I have confidence that anything he can
invent, you and Mr. Scott can figure out."
"Aye, Captain," said Scotty.
"Practical experience may work in our
favor."
"See that it does, Mr. Scott. Make
Professor Omen's plans blow up in his
face. And hurry. We don't know his timetable."
"Aye, Captain." He stood up. "Are you
coming, Mr. Spock?"
"On my way, Engineer."
"Bridge to Captain Kirk," Uhura said.
Kirk held up his hand, and Scott
and Spock waited at the door.
Kirk punched the intercom button and said,
"Kirk here."
"Message from Erehwon."
"I can't wait," McCoy said.
"Pipe it down here, Lieutenant."
"Aye, sir."
The three-way screen in the center of the table
lit up to show Omen, who said, "I assume,
Captain, that you are still attempting to break away
from my tractor beam."
"Assume anything you like, Professor. Did
you have any other announcements? We're busy."
"I only wanted to assure you again that escape
is impossible. Your ship does not have the
equipment."
"You'd be surprised what sort of equipment
we have, Professor. If you're going to destroy
us, then do it. Your gloating gives me a
headache."
The infinite weariness came over Omen again.
He said, "You continue to think of me as some sort
of megalomaniacal villain of the popular
thrillers. I am not. I do what I must neither for
recreation nor for personal gain."
"At the moment, Professor, your reasons
interest me less than your intentions. Let my
ship go, and I will gladly listen to you wax
philosophical all the way back to Starbase
12."
"I have a counterproposal for you. I invite you
and Ms. Payton to Erehwon, at which time I will
make it clear even to you, Captain, that what I
am doing is not only desirable but necessary."
Kirk wondered if by his going to Erehwon the
situation could get any worse. Except for
wanting to be understood, Omen evidently already had
everything he wanted, so holding Kirk or
Payton for ransom would not be necessary. On the other
hand, such a visit would certainly give Spock
and Scotty more time, and Kirk might learn something
useful.
Kirk touched the mute switch and said, "What
do you say, Ms. Payton?"
"I'm willing if you are."
Kirk nodded and spoke again to Professor
Omen. "We'll beam over immediately."
"Very good. I am sending coordinates now.
Andfor both of our sakes, Captain, please come
unarmed. Omen out." The screen
blanked.
Kirk said, "He has a need to explain
himself."
"Yes," said Spock. "He may drop a
clue that we will find helpful in overcoming him."
"I'd rather cure him than conquer him. Any
ideas, Doctor?"
"I certainly can't cure him by long distance.
And not by using a single hypo full of any drug
I know about, either. Psychiatry has come a long
way since Freud, but it's still a subject in which
a certain amount of guesswork, talent, and luck
are important. In any case, Omen needs
therapy, and therapy is still not instantaneous."
Kirk said, "Then we'll have to arrange it so that
modern psychiatry has all the time it needs
to deal with the professor." Kirk saw no way
to arrange this at the moment, but he'd learned
to play his cards one hand at a time. Though the
future was unpredictable, to this point an
opportunity to survive had always presented itself.
Kirk got a communicator from stores. A
communicator was not a weapon, so Omen might not
be able to detect it. As Kirk climbed onto the
transporter stage next to Payton he told
Mr. Kyle to keep a lock on them. "You may
have only seconds to beam the three of us out."
"Three of you, sir?" Kyle asked.
"Yes. Let's see if we can't get Omen
back to the Enterprise and make it stick this
time."
"Understood."
"Energize, Mr. Kyle."
Kirk felt a moment of euphoria and
disorientation as the transporter room broke up
and was replaced by a room so large that at first
Kirk had the impression he was on the surface
of a planet.
He and Payton had materialized near a
circular control station in the center of the room.
Above a flat, open space atop the station was a
viewscreen that currently showed a
three-dimensional image of the Enterprise, its
running lights flashing languidly. Red
buttresses met high above the image. Three
steps down from the control station a thin forest of
delicate trees with silver leaves extended to the
wall of the circular room. They stood in
odd-shaped plots of open soil. Small
creatures sang as they flew from tree
to tree.
The place made a starship seem cramped.
Not to be impressed was impossible, but Kirk
tried not to show it.
Omen had added a short brown cape to his
conservative gray jumpsuit. He rose from a
chair at the circumference of the control station and
said, "Welcome to Erehwon. Would you care for
some refreshment?"
"I didn't come here for small talk,
Professor. Say your piece and have done with
it."
"I see, Captain, that like all starship
captains, under the uniform and the training you are a
barbarian. Perhaps I made a mistake thinking that
any explanation would move you."
"Perhaps you're right. If you'll call my
transporter chief, Ms. Payton and I will
beam back to the Enterprise right now and we can
all get on with our business." Kirk was
bluff+, of course.
Omen stared at the three-dimensional image of the
Enterprise for a moment and then said, "Come along,
Captain. I promised you an explanation, and that
is what you'll get."
Without another ^w Omen led them into a long
hallway that shot off the main chamber like the spoke
of a wheel. It was an art gallery where intricate
sculptures of light and wire stood on small
wooden tables, and paintings of aliens hung on the
walls.
"Beautiful," Payton said.
"My daughter, Barbara, did all these."
Omen indicated a holograph of a blond
woman. She was a charmer, grinning and holding a
speckled blue flower.
Payton strolled a ways down the
corridor, looking from side to side. She said,
"Your daughter is very talented."
As far as Kirk could tell, Payton was
correct. He was not an artist, but he knew
what he liked. He would actually have bought
pieces of Barbara Omen's work for his own
collection of oddly matched artifacts from around the
galaxy--the ultimate compliment, as far as
Kirk was concerned.
He was about to make his feelings known when Omen
said, "Was very talented, Ms. Payton,
was. She is dead."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"Yes, she was a lieutenant aboard the
Federation scout ship Crockett. She was
blasted into her atomic components," Omen said with
growing anger, "during a starship battle with
Klingons." Omen glared at him as if Kirk were
personally responsible.
Kirk said, "Nobody is drafted
into Starfleet. Your daughter took her chances just
like the rest of us. She obviously thought the risk was
worthwhile."
"Why she was murdered is not the point. She is
dead."
"You can't bring her back, no matter how many
starships you destroy."
"No, but I can save others like her."
Kirk shook his head. "You can't stop
Klingons from attacking if they're so inclined."
"In my universe, Captain, no one would be
armed."
"We're not talking about the destruction of
armament, are we, Professor? We're talking
about the destruction of starships full of people,
individuals as innocent as your daughter."
"Thousands suffer so that millions may live."
"Intellectual poppycock."
"You refuse to understand." He shrugged. "Perhaps
it is really of no consequence."
In fact, Kirk was convinced that he did
understand. Before, he'd called Omen crazy, but that
was only a metaphor for Kirk's conviction that
Omen was terribly wrong. Now it was clear that
Omen was attempting to bring back his daughter
by eliminating the weapons that had killed her--
weapons very much like the ones he himself had designed.
The action was futile, of course;
intellectually, even Omen had to know that. But
guilt, and the desire of a father to save his daughter,
were strong forces and not alt rational. McCoy had
been correct Nobody on the Enterprise
had the time or the expertise to cure Omen.
"Yes, the understanding of one starship captain is
of no consequence," Omen said.
"And the destruction of one starship?" Kirk
asked.
"Granted, it is only a symbolic action.
But we are speaking of the Enterprise, the
flagship. After it is gone Ms. Payton will
interview me. I will explain my reasoning so that
anyone who cares to listen cannot help but understand."
"That's where Conrad Franklin Kent
comes in," Kirk said.
"Precisely. A man in his position will
make my ultimatum much easier to deliver."
Kirk was confused. Omen wanted the galaxy
to live in peace, but he wanted to do it by destroying
any starship that flew by. He could try
justifying that to the parties involved, but Kirk
didn't think that any of them would be particularly
sympathetic. He asked, "Ultimatum?"
"Yes, Captain. Certainly you don't
believe that even I would be so callous as to throw
starships into the Aleph without giving their crews a
chance to reform."
"Reform?"
"Have I reduced you to single-^w questions,
Captain?"
Kirk was peeved by Omen's amusement. He
said, "Answer them if you can."
Omen sighed and said, "Through the report that Ms.
Payton will write for Mr. Kent I will offer the
fleets of the galaxy a choice. If they will
completely disarm, I will not destroy their ships."
Certainly the Klingons and Romulans would not
go for Professor Omen's plan, which meant that
even if Starfleet were inclined to send ships out
unprotected, it would be constrained to ignore that
inclination. Kirk tried to explain this prediction
to Professor Omen.
Omen said, "Then what happens next will be on
their heads, not mine." Omen walked back down the
gallery, stopping now and then to appreciate a work
of his daughter's art.
It seemed to Kirk that they had reached an
impasse, and that he would learn no more from Omen.
He was also curious to know how Spock and
Scotty were doing. If they had succeeded in finding
a way to escape the tractor beam, Omen's
crackpot arguments were moot. At the very least,
Uhura might have found a way to send a message
to Starbase 12.
Kirk was about to reach for his communicator when
Payton called, "Professor?"
Omen turned and blinked at her as if he'd
been awakened.
"I'm not staying."
"What?"
Kirk was surprised, too.
Payton said, "I've watched the crew of the
Enterprise at work, and I've listened to your
arguments, and I've decided that no one
in Starfleet is as crazy as you are. I will not
write the report--at least not with the slant you
want--s you might as well let all of us go."
"You are making a grave mistake, Ms.
Payton."
"I don't think so. Captain, I hope
it's not too late to request permission to stay with the
Enterprise."
Kirk smiled and nodded. "Welcome aboard,
Ms. Payton." She was not the toady he'd
thought her to be. Evidently, despite her
feelings for Conrad Franklin Kent, she knew
her own mind and had the courage to follow it.
Omen remained halfway down the gallery, as
if he suspected their ideas might be contagious.
He said, "Mr. Kent cannot become president
of the Council without my support."
Payton said, "We'll see. Mr. Kent's
political future doesn't matter as much the
continued existence of the Enterprise andof
Starfleet."
Omen shook his head sadly. "Then I must go
on without you. As must Mr. Kent. Prepare
to return to your ship. You are about to receive firsthand
experience of the Aleph." He walked toward the
main chamber.
"Stay close to me," Kirk whispered
to Payton. He pulled his communicator out and
flipped it open. "Mr. Kyle."
"Ready, Captain."
"What are you doing?" Payton asked.
Kirk spoke into the communicator. "On my
command, Mr. Kyle. Three to beam up."
"Aye, sir."
They caught up with Omen at the entrance to the
main chamber. Kirk grabbed him by the arm, and
Omen turned, astonished. "Now, Mr.
Kyle," Kirk cried.
The beaming effect began, and seconds later
Kirk was back in Enterprise's transporter
room gripping nothing. Payton stood on the
transporter plate next to him, but Omen was not
there.
"What happened to Omen?" Kirk cried as he
leapt from the transporter stage and took in the
displays on the control lectern.
Kyle was hurriedly making adjustments. "I
don't know, Captain. I had him, but the carrier
beam just slipped off."
"Slipped off?"
"I don't understand it myself. He seems to be
shielded in some way."
"Lucky he couldn't shield us," Kirk
said.
"Yes, sir."
"Or maybe it just never occurred to him to try."
The idea appealed to Kirk. It was another
indication that Omen was neither perfect nor as smart
as he thought. Kirk reached over the wrong side
of the lectern and hit the intercom switch. "Kirk
to bridge. Anything from Omen?"
"Not yet, sir. And I'm still trying to find a
way through the interference."
"Keep me posted. I'll be in engineering with
Spock and Mr. Scott."
"Aye, Captain."
Kirk turned to where Payton still stood on the
transporter stage. "You impress me,"
Kirk said.
"I'm glad somebody feels that way," said
Payton. "I just feel stupid. I've lost a
job and a husband in one stroke."
"A husband?"
"Yes. Before we left, Commodore Favere
asked me to marry him. I told him I'd think
it over." She shook her head. "He'll have
to understand. A woman has to do what a woman has
to do."
"I hope you won't escape the commodore that
easily, Ms. Payton. Scott and Spock
may have some answers for us."
"Us?"
"Absolutely. You started making a report.
You might as well finish it. Mr. Kent will be
interested in how we perform our miracles."
"Delighted, Captain."
They hurried to engineering, where they found Spock
typing numbers into a terminal and then reading
calculated values to Mr. Scott, who entered
them into the d eflector shield matrix.
"Report," Kirk said to Lieutenant
Foss, who was watching them worriedly.
"Captain," Foss said with surprise.
"I'm waiting, Foss."
"Yes, sir. I think I've found the source
of Professor Omen's aberration, if I may
call it that."
"You may. What is it?"
"He had a daughter who died in action aboard
a Starfleet vessel."
"I know about the daughter," Kirk said.
"Anything else?"
He'd astonished Foss, but Kirk didn't
feel obligated to explain how he'd known about the
daughter. Foss drew himself up straight and said,
"Mr. Spock thinks so. One of the popular
scientific journals reported that when
Professor Omen finished perfecting his phased
deflectors he was going to work on something
entirely new, a weapon using the small
dimensions."
"Small dimensions?"
"I'm a historian, sir, so I don't
pretend to understand these things myself. But Mr.
Spock tells me that it's the key to the entire
problem."
"Very good, Mr. Foss."
"Thank you, sir."
They watched Spock and Scotty work.
Spock remained calm, but Scotty became
increasingly harried as he inputted the long
numbers that Spock read to him. At last
Scott stopped alt and cried, "Can you not slow
down a little, Mr. Spock? I'm only
human." His Scottish accent was very thick now.
It always thickened when he felt pressured.
Spock said, "Your humanity is not in question,
Mr. Scott. But may I remind you that we have
no idea how limited our time may be?"
Scotty looked pleadingly at Kirk, and
Kirk said, "What's this about small dimensions,
Mr. Spock?"
Spock folded his arms and said,
"ation-dimensional mathematics postulates that our
universe extends in many directions beyond the three
of space and one of time. Only our physical and
mental limitations prevent us from experiencing them.
Dimensions eleven through twenty-seven are said to be
the small dimensions because they do not, in fact,
extend at all."
"I don't understand. How can they be dimensions
if they don't extend?"
"I assure you, Captain, these conclusions
emerge directly from the mathematics."
He'd heard Spock's mathematical
lectures. Kirk's head sometimes rang for days
afterward, and he was none the wiser. "I'm sure they
do, Mr. Spock," Kirk said. "How does
all this help us?"
"I am working on the assumption that
Professor Omen's Aleph is the weapon he
was speaking of in the journal, and that it is based on
his work with ation-dimensions."
"And?"
"And using what I know of ation-dimensional
geometry, Mr. Scott and I are readjusting
the shields so they will deflect the Aleph. Rather
than engulfing the ship, the Aleph's impact will
knock the Enterprise free of the tractor
beam."
"You're sure of this?" Kirk asked.
"We are confident," Spock said.
Kirk looked at Scotty, who shrugged.
"Very well, gentlemen. Get on with it. I'm
going to the bridge. Ms. Payton?"
"I've seen enough here."
"Come along, then."
Kirk used the time on the turbolift to study
Payton. She had surprised him more than once
with her ingenuity and courage. She was, as Kent
had told him, a woman who got the job done.
Kirk felt his admiration warming into affection, but
he knew that such feelings were pointless. If they
survived the Aleph, she would be going back
to Favere. If they did not, time was very short.
At the moment Payton appeared to be
worried, which was surely the rational reaction to what
was going on. Kirk smiled and said to her,
"We've gotten out of worse messes."
"Mr. Spock said he was only confident, not
certain."
"I'd sooner bet my life on Mr.
Spock's confidence than on somebody else's
certainty. As a matter of fact, I have.
We'll be fine."
"And if not?"
Kirk opened his hands as if releasing the thought.
He said, "It will cease to matter."
"To us, anyway."
Kirk nodded. Those who were left behind sometimes
suffered the most.
McCoy was already on the bridge, speaking in
low tones with Uhura. When Kirk sat down in
his command chair McCoy stepped down to stand at his
left hand. "You can cut the tension on the ship with a
knife, Jim."
"Not much longer, Bones." Kirk bit a
knuckle as he studied Erehwon floating
among the stars. He couldn't destroy the thing; he
couldn't run away from it; arguing with Omen
was useless. What clever maneuver was he
overlooking?
"I suppose Spock and Scotty are
hammering together some machinery of salvation down in
engineering."
"They are, and--"
"Captain?" Uhura said. "Message from
Professor Omen."
"On screen."
"It's for Ms. Payton."
"On screen will be fine, Lieutenant,"
Payton said.
Omen appeared looking sadder and more tired than
usual. Or maybe he was just bored. He said,
"Ms. Payton, I will offer you one more chance
to return to Erehwon."
"And I will offer you one more chance to return with us
to Starbase 12."
"I'm sorry, Ms. Payton. Captain,
if you have prayers to say, I suggest you say them
now."
Uhura came up to Kirk's right-hand side and
whispered in his ear, "Mr. Spock reports that
he and Mr. Scott are ready."
Kirk made a small nod and said, "Thank
you, Professor. Any other bits of advice
you have for us?"
"You're dying for a good cause, Captain."
Kirk no longer wanted to speak with Omen.
He no longer wanted to look at him or even
think about him. Kirk had rarely been in a
situation where he felt more helpless. He said,
"Opinions differ on that, Professor. Kirk
out."
Omen was replaced by Erehwon and the stars.
"Ten," Omen said.
"Spock to Captain Kirk."
"Nine," said Omen.
"What is it, Spock?"
"Eight."
"I wish to recalibrate the sensors to better
record the Aleph."
"Seven."
"No time, Spock. Seven ... six
seconds and counting."
"That is unfortunate."
"Five."
Spock went on, "This is an unprecedented
opportunity to confirm various theories of
ation-dimensional geometry."
"Four."
"Some other time, Spock. You are the best first
officer in the fleet." Kirk gripped the arms of
his chair. Everyone he could see--McCoy,
Payton, Sulu, Chekov--braced themselves any
way they could.
"Three."
"Thank you, Captain."
"Two. One. Farewell, Enterprise."

Chapter Nine

A tiny bright spot appeared on Erehwon.
As it rushed toward Enterprise it grew into a
spinning diamond. And then Kirk saw that the
spinning was an illusion. Moving across the surface
of the diamond were uncountable objects, scenes, and
people. The Aleph came quickly, so Kirk did not
have time to study it, but in the few seconds he had
it showed him Lieutenant Foss down in his
cabin, a green hill on some planet like Earth,
the glare of a star's interior, colorful spider
creatures crawling across bare rock in a single
line that extended to the red horizon, a child with an
ice cream cone, shattered and abandoned domes on
Earth's moon--all this and more, all without confusion,
all without overlapping, all at a single point.
And then the Aleph struck the Enterprise with
such force that the ship leaned to one side like an
ocean-going vessel hit by a tidal wave.
Lights flickered, and the superstructure moaned.
Suddenly the Enterprise snapped free from the
tractor beam, causing Erehwon to seem to fly
off one side of the main viewscreen.
Kirk cried, "Sulu, ahead full
impulse, any course."
"Aye, sir. Sir, navigational sensors
inoperative. Shields down."
"Get us out of here now, Mr. Sulu."
"Aye."
The impulse engines hummed as the stars
crawled across the main screen. Apparently only
visible light sensors still worked. That was fine.
Scotty would repair the sensors and the shields.
But the Enterprise had to get out away from
Erehwon before any repairs could be done, andforthe
first time Kirk allowed himself to believe that they had
actually made it.
"Is everybody all right?" Kirk asked.
They were all shaken up but uninjured.
Kirk hit the button that would put him through
to engineering. "Gentlemen, you did it," he said.
"Aye," said Mr. Scott, "but my poor
shields will never be the same."
Spock said, "I assure you, Captain, that
returning the shields to their original state is a
simple matter."
"Is there any advantage to doing that?"
"None as far as I can determine, Captain.
Our protection from the Aleph did not cost us
efficiency in other areas."
"Very well. Get started on repairs.
Kirk out. Mr. Sulu, take us back
to Starbase 12, warp six."
"Aye, sir."
Chekov said, "Incoming, Captain."
Kirk gave his attention back to the screen and
saw a bright point of light approaching. As it
grew into a spinning diamond Kirk's heart
sank. Without shields of any sort the
Enterprise was a sitting duck.
"Warp six now, Mr. Sulu."
The stars sprang away from them, but the Aleph
stayed on their tail. The damned thing could follow
the ship into warp space! Small dimensions,
indeed. In warp space their ability to maneuver
was limited.
"Mr. Sulu, drop to full impulse and
take evasive action."
"Aye, Captain."
The stars jumped in crazy patterns, but the
Aleph never wavered. As it rushed toward the
Enterprise the surface of the diamond became
the discrete bits of the infinite universe.
This time, when the Aleph struck the ship,
Kirk felt no impact, as if the Aleph was
a hole that had engulfed it.

The main viewscreen remained empty. And
yet it wasn't blank. It was the color Kirk
saw when he closed his eyes in a dark room.
The color on the screen had depth and
near-solidity. It was hypnotic.
The impulse engines were still running, but now they
were laboring, chugging along almost like the gasoline
e ngines of the twentieth century. Kirk yawned.
He suddenly felt very tired. He'd been under a
lot of stress lately, but that would not entirely
explain the fatigue.
"Have we lost visible light sensors,
too, Mr. Chekov?"
Chekov plodded to Spock's station and looked
into the viewer. "No, sir. Main viewscreen
is functioning properly."
"Then where the hell are we?"
"I don't know, sir."
Kirk punched the intercom button on his command
chair and said, "Mr. Scott."
"Here, Captain."
"How long will it take you to repair the sensors
and the shields?"
"I have a team working on each of them now,
sir."
"How long?"
"I canna say, sir. The shield
generators--well, we can have them on line in a
few minutes. But most of the sensor receptors
are gone, and that beastie burned out entire banks
of circuits. It could be days."
"Make it hours, Scotty. Our survival
may count on those sensors."
"Aye. We'll work 'round the clock.
Scott out."
Kirk tried to think, but his mind seemed thick
and unresponsive. He asked Uhura if she
had gotten through to Starbase 12.
She said, "No."
Without a squawk, then, the Enterprise would
seem to have vanished as mysteriously as the other
missing ships. Kirk said, "Mr. Sulu,
take one minute to turn the ship three-sixty
degrees."
"Aye, sir."
Nothing changed on the main screen, and Kirk
had to ask if the ship was moving. His body felt
as if it were made of lead.
"Inertial guidance says we're turning at
one rpm."
Spock arrived on the bridge, and Chekov,
looking grateful, went back to the navigator's
station. The Aleph edged onto the screen.
"Range?"
"Unknown, Captain," Spock said.
The ship continued its sweep, and the Aleph
crawled off the screen. Eventually Sulu said,
"Inertial guidance says we're back where we
started."
"Speak to me, Spock," Kirk said.
"Without sensors I would be only guessing."
"Guess then."
"We are in a universe in which only two things
exist the Enterprise and the Aleph that brought us
here."
Kirk said, "Omen has been sending ships through
the Aleph for months. Where are they?"
"Maybe out of visual range," Uhura
said.
"Doubtful, Lieutenant," Spock said.
"The mathematics suggest that the other side of any
Aleph will be a random point inside the universe
of universes."
"You mean that each ship will come out in a different
universe?"
"Each ship can do that. There is a small
probability that two ships will meet on the far
side of two different Alephs. Remember, the
destination is random."
So they were probably alone, without even the
cold comfort that came from sharing a disaster with another
ship. If they were to be saved, they would have to do it
themselves. Kirk said, "Then we can't even go back
through the Aleph."
"We can, Captain, but we have no assurance that
we would be any better off than we are now."
"Or any worse off," said McCoy.
"Indeed, Doctor. The mathematics of the
Aleph's geometry offer us little hope either
way."
"What do you know about hope?"
"I know that you humans value it highly,
particularly when you have nothing else."
Kirk said, "It's not logical, Mr.
Spock, but we will continue to hope." He wished
that he saw cause for optimism, but strain as he
might, he couldn't even force his brain to work very
well. Everyone on the bridge seemed to be as
tired as he was. McCoy was leaning against the arm
of his chair, and Payton was watching the main
viewscreen while she sat on the steps to the
upper level with her head resting on one fist.
Kirk had complete confidence in Mr. Scott and
his teams, but if they were suffering from the same numbing
fatigue as everyone on the bridge--and he had
no reason to believe they were not--then everything would
take longer. Even Scotty's prediction of
days might be overconfident.
Suddenly McCoy said, "It's like the
negative energy zone around that giant amoeba
we blew up."
For a moment everyone considered
McCoy's statement.
Then Spock said, "Doctor, you may have
accidentally said something useful." He turned
to study the readouts at the bottom of his viewer.
McCoy smiled for a moment and then asked
Kirk, "What did he mean by that?"
Kirk shook his head. He wondered what
Spock could be looking at. The sensors had been
burned out by the Aleph, and even if they had not,
Spock himself had admitted that there was nothing but
emptiness around them. It was possible that Spock
had a hunch, and, being a Vulcan, he would never
admit it. Vulcans believed in
probabilities, not hunches. When the hunch
became something Spock could support with facts,
Kirk would hear about it.
"If Dr. McCoy is correct, where are
the amoebas?" Chekov asked.
"Where indeed?" said Kirk.
"What amoebas?" Payton asked,
entirely bewildered.
A few hours ago Kirk might have kidded
Payton about not keeping up with Starfleet
reports, but she had chosen to be there. She was one
of the crew now, as much at risk as any of them,
and a straight question deserved a straight answer.
Kirk organized his thoughts, but only with
difficulty. He said, "In sector 39J
we encountered a single-celled creature that was many
thousands of kilometers across. It generated a
black zone much like the stuff outside." He
gestured vaguely at the viewscreen. "The zone
absorbed all energy generated inside it.
Including metabolic energy. Bones, could that be
happening to us again?"
McCoy continued to stare straight ahead.
"Bones?"
"Oh, sorry, Jim." He shook his head.
"I must have been daydreaming. Yes, it certainly
could be happening to us again. I hope not. I almost
ran out of stimulants last time."
Kirk smiled and said, "You should have been here,
Ms. Payton. We pulled off one of our
famous miracles." He really needed a nap.
"I still say Spock botched the acetylcholine
test."
Spock said, "I fail to see why bringing that
up continues to please you."
"You're right, Spock. Childish of me."
McCoy winked at Kirk.
"But you are quite correct in comparing the amoeba
incident and the situation in which we find ourselves."
"What is it, Spock?" Kirk asked.
"At this time, Captain, my theory is only
partially formulated. But I will say this The
doctor is likely to run out of stimulants."
"Run out," McCoy repeated. He shook his
head once more and said, "I'd better get down
to sickbay and see if anybody needs me."
He walked to the turbolift like an old man,
frowning as if he were trying to remember something.
"I'll be back," he said before he left.
"You'all will need stimulants, too." The
turbolift doors closed.
"Should we expect amoebas, Spock?"
"Impossible to say. Without sensors we are
limited to what we can see on the main screen.
Computer analysis is impossible. However, the
lack of stars would indicate that the situations are
comparable, whatever their origins."
Payton said, "Maybe the amoebas ate
everything and then died of starvation. Over the
millennia they disintegrated back into the fabric
of space."
"It is possible," Spock said. "But without
sensors to tell us whether the space around us is
truly empty or filled with microdebris, we
cannot say for certain."
"We will all die," Chekov said calmly.
"Belay that talk, mister," Kirk ordered.
"As long as we're alive and thinking, we have a
chance. We're not amoebas. Spock, get down
to engineering and help Mr. Scott's sensor
team. With sensors we might be able to learn something
useful from the proper study of the Aleph. There must
be a way for us to control our destination on its other
side."
"You may be right, Captain," Spock said as
he headed for the turbolift. Despite his
Vulcan constitution, even he was slowing down. The
unspoken corollary to Spock's statement was,
of course, that Kirk could be wrong. After all,
Kirk couldn't be the first starship captain to suggest
his science officer try to get them home.
"A better mousetrap," Kirk said with
disgust.

By the end of the ship's day Enterprise energy
levels were down fifteen percent, and Kirk was
certain that his own energy levels had
dropped considerably more than that.
His weakness and lack of energy depressed him and
made him angry. Kirk was a man who had always
taken good care of himself--eating the recommended
foods, working out in the gym when his schedule had
allowed. Now all his hard work--it seemed--had
gone for nothing, stolen from him by this universe, this
infinite expanse of nothing. This universe brought
him and the laziest of creatures to the same level,
as death brought all creatures to the same level.
He did not normally have such thoughts. A starship
captain must be an optimistic and clever person,
in addition to the other attributes he or she
might have. For one thing, Kirk was a philosopher
king, a supreme and benevolent leader in his
twenty-three-deck realm. And like any man,
Kirk had his theories about the rules of life,
many of them--z Spock had pointed out--m
whimsical than rational. Rules came and went
over the years. For instance, Kirk had not believed
for a long time that pulling the bed covers over his head
would save him from monsters. One of the few rules
that remained a foundation of his life was that he must
believe in himself above all. This universe
attempted to drain that belief from him, but he fought
against it even as he fought the depression and anger.
Kirk had Uhura shut off the viewscreen.
This not only saved a small amount of power, but the
dead screen was an improvement It was only
blank; it did not show them the unnerving darkness of the
universe outside. And the Aleph was hypno tic;
watching it, the bridge crew quickly became
spellbound and forgot about their jobs. There wasn't
much to do on the bridge at the moment, but Kirk
liked to have his on-duty personnel alert even so.
They had no call to use up power running either
warp or impulse engines. As Chekov had
pointed out, when each point outside the ship was
exactly like all the others, the concept of motion was
meaningless anyway. Chekov sighed and, with a smile
on his face, recalled a dark, crowded
nightclub in Moscow where the concept of motion had
also been meaningless, but for a different reason.
Sickbay was a mob scene, and McCoy had
taken to sending all but the worst cases of
fatigue back to work full of stimulants. Some
crew members returned to sickbay terrified
by what they had seen. Nightmare creatures
climbed from access holes in the decks to menace
them, only to disappear along with their
holes as they were about to set fang, claw, or
tentacle on the crew member. Other crew
members reported seeing bulkheads run like
waterfalls, or strangers looking out at them from
mirrors.
As tired as he was, Kirk walked the ship,
giving comfort and encouragement where he could. Down in
engineering he tried to help repair the sensors
until Mr. Scott suggested, in the most
diplomatic way imaginable, that his talents
might be better used elsewhere.
Ms. Payton followed Kirk everywhere, always
recording, though if the recordings were filtered through
her senses, they could not be any too clear or
even coherent. Despite the stimulant
McCoy had given her, her progress became
more and more sluggish. The truth was, they all came
to move like small children on their way to bed after a
busy day. Kirk liked Payton more and more all
the time, for her bravery, for the strength of her moral
conviction, for the tenderness with which she treated fragile
crew members.
Down on Deck 17 Kirk and Payton were
horrified to discover a ragged hole blasted in the
outer bulkhead of the ship's hull. They could look
directly onto the blankness. A crewman was
looking at it, pointing to it, laughing hysterically.
Payton rushed to him and put a hand on his
shoulder. "It's all right. It's all right. The
hole isn't really there. Is it, Captain?"
She sounded uncertain.
Kirk could not remember having been so tired,
and without making a constant effort he might have slid
into hysteria himself. But at the moment he was
fascinated by the hole. It could not really be there, of
course, or this entire section of the ship would have
been open to hard vacuum and sealed off.
Carefully, slowly, he reached out a hand. And
sure enough, when he touched what seemed to be open
space the hole was briefly replaced by the face
of a snarling Klingon, and then by blank bulkhead.
The crewman continued to laugh, and Payton
hugged him. The laughter stopped, but the crewman
began to shriek and cry. Kirk could see that
Payton's methods were not working, and eventually he
had to slap the crewman to get him to stop.
"Go to sickbay," he ordered the crewman.
Solemnly the crewman stumbled off in the right
direction.
Some hours later Kirk called a
meeting in the Deck 7 briefing room. When he
got there the table seemed to be sagging at both ends
as if it were made of taffyou. It reminded him of a
painting done a few centuries before, with clocks
draped over tree limbs. He blinked, and the
table became as flat and solid as it had ever
been.
Soon after, Spock, Scott, and McCoy
arrived, as well as Ms. Payton, implant
still in place. Kirk had entered commendations for all
of them in his log. If the Enterprise got
home safely, Payton would supply Conrad
Franklin Kent with quite a document, though not the one
he'd expected.
After they had gathered they sat hunched over the
table, breathing with difficulty, as if they had just
run a long distance.
Kirk said, "Did that hysterical crewman
get to sickbay all right?"
"Which hysterical crewman?" asked McCoy.
"I've seen a bunch of them this morning."
Kirk was about to describe the crewman he and
Payton had helped and then decided that it
didn't matter. A sick crew member could not
wander the corridors of the Enterprise for long before
somebody helped him or her to sickbay.
"Report, Mr. Scott."
Scott looked up at Kirk and said, "Power
levels are down twenty-seven percent and continue
to fall at a few percentage points an hour."
"Then we have time to find a solution."
"Aye, Captain. We have time, but we may not
have the strength."
"Scotty's right," McCoy said. "The
crew's metabolic processes are running
down at about the same rate as the ship's
batteries. The difference is that long before the
batteries are dead we will all have fainted. I'm
doing what I can for everyone, but it isn't much."
"Stimulants have only a limited
usefulness."
"Right. On the drugs, we're using up the
energy we have much more quickly--essentially robbing our
future in order to work now. Eventually we'll
all just burn out."
Kirk and the others contemplated the future that
McCoy presented them with.
McCoy said, "The simple fact, Jim,
is that we don't belong in this universe. But
we'll die here if we don't leave
soon."
"You know, Bones, I look back fondly
on the simple days when all we had to do was
destroy a giant spacefaring amoeba."
"Aye, Captain," said Scott. "As tired
as I am, I'd throttle the beastie with my bare
hands."
"I appreciate your willingness, Mr.
Scott. What about the sensors and the shields?"
"Sensor components are fused into a single
block. Working at our present rate, you won't
have them for several hours. Shields are about ready
now."
"Shields have never been so useless," McCoy
said.
"Best speed, Mr. Scott. Spock, do you
have anything to add to our list of disasters?"
Spock was bearing up better than any of his
human crew mates, but even he drooped in his
chair and leaned on the table with his elbows. He
said, "I have no new disasters to report,
Captain. Not as such. I will only add that the
hallucinations crew members have been reporting,
and which I have experienced myself, lead me to believe
that this universe is causing a great strain on the
fabric of reality aboard the Enterprise."
Kirk said, "It's always nice to have one's
suspicions confirmed. Anything else,
Spock?"
"I hesitate to encourage you in any way,
Captain, but I believe I have found a
substitute for our sensors."
"You'll be able to study the Aleph?" Kirk
asked. It had been a long time since he'd
felt this much enthusiasm.
"Does that mean we can go home?" Payton
said.
"I do not guarantee a solution," Spock
said, "but I believe that using my method, we can
significantly improve our chances of escaping
from this universe."

Chapter Ten

"Don't keep it to yourself, Spock," Kirk
said.
"It will involve Ms. Payton's
cooperation."
"You have it, Mr. Spock. What is your
method?" Payton seemed surprised
that she had spoken to Mr. Spock in this way, and
she blushed.
"I believe," said Spock, "that by modifying
Ms. Payton's implant I will be able to use
it and her as a primitive sensor."
Scotty thought about that for a moment and then said,
"Aye. It might work. You'll have to use some of the
equipment Professor Omen left behind."
"Indeed, Mr. Scott. I will also require
your skills as a technician."
Kirk asked, "This will take less time than
repairing ship's sensors?"
"I expect so, Captain. In any case,
Mr. Scott's engineering team will continue
to repair ship's sensors while he and I
jury-rig Ms. Payton's implant. We will
not be competing, but I suggest that one of us will
surely finish before the other."
"And we're ahead either way. Very good, Mr.
Spock. Get up to the physics lab. And
remember ..." Spock, Scott, and Payton
stopped at the door and looked back at him.
They were tired. Everyone on the ship was tired.
"Remember that we're not just attempting to save
ourselves. We must get home and stop Professor
Omen."
Spock and Scott left with Payton.
Kirk and McCoy continued to sit at the table
breathing hard. McCoy said, "Omen's crazy,
isn't he?"
"The evidence seems conclusive. What's the
problem, Bones?"
"I've been a doctor all my adult
life. When I was a kid I wanted to be a
doctor. I never questioned whether curing the sick and
comforting the wounded was a good idea. But here we are,
trying as hard as we can to prevent somebody from
stopping war."
"You heard Spock, Bones. Omen won't
stop war. He's just destroying starships."
"Maybe destroying starships and stopping war are
the same thing."
Kirk was glad that Payton wasn't there
to record this conversation. How would McCoy's
arguments come across to the civilians back home?
Would everything he said make great propaganda for
Kent? Kirk decided that he had enough to worry about
without adding politics to the list. He said,
"Sorry you joined Starfleet, Doctor?"
McCoy thought for a moment and then said,
"No, Captain. Of course not. It's just that at
the moment I'm a little tired, that's all. Stopping
wars seems like a good idea."
"It is a good idea, Bones. Omen's just
going about it the wrong way. You can't stop wars
by killing people."
McCoy nodded for what seemed to be a long
time. Then he stood up slowly and briefly
supported himself on the table with his hands. He said,
"If it's all right with you, Captain, I'll
get back to sickbay. It's amazing, but sometimes
people feel better just going to a doctor, even if the
doctor can't do much for them but hold their hand and
tell them exactly how bad t hings are."
"Not logical, is it, Bones?"
"No. But it works. Sometimes it even works on
Vulcans, if they're in the mood."
Kirk said, "Go ahead," and he watched
McCoy stagger from the room. He was older than
most of the other crew members, and this universe was
harder on him. It hurt Kirk just to watch him
move, yet there was nothing Kirk could do for him.
As a matter of fact, until Spock and
Scotty made their modifications there was nothing
much Kirk could do for the Enterprise. It was
unlikely that he would be needed on the bridge
anytime soon. This universe was empty.
By definition, nothing ever happened in it. The
Enterprise and the Aleph were new, of course, but
Kirk doubted if they would be joined by anything more
of a similar magnitude.
Briefly he considered helping McCoy, but
having the captain mucking around in sickbay would
probably make McCoy nervous. Besides, as
captain, Kirk needed to maintain an air of
authority, and that would be difficult when carrying
bedpans, even if they were only metaphorical.
At last Kirk went up to the physics lab.
Watching Spock and Scott make progress
with the implant would give him something to do and make
him feel better. He could talk with Payton.
That would be a comfort, too.

Spock and Scotty finished modifying the
implant before the team down in engineering repaired
the sensors. Scott seemed hurt by this, as if his
people had, in fact, lost a competition, but he was
enthusiastic about the implant. The fact that
Spock also thought it would work was encouraging.
Spock went to Payton's cabin,
where she kept the equipment that monitored and
recorded the signal from her implant. Payton
came up to the bridge and sat in Spock's
chair. Her implant looked the same to Kirk,
but in this case, as in many others, appearances
weren't everything.
Spock's plan was for Payton's eyes
to act as primary sensors. Whatever she looked
at--in this case, the Aleph--wd be funneled
through Professor Omen's equipment,
evaluated, filtered, and sent to Payton's own
equipment in her cabin. There Spock would view
the Aleph and attempt to analyze it. He would
be helped by the limited computing power available
to Payton's monitor, but because there was no way
to automatically input Payton's sensory
data in the ship's computer, the work would move
slowly and perhaps ultimately prove to be
impossible. Still, it was worth a try--it was the
only chance they had.
Kirk walked over to her and asked, "How do you
feel?"
She smiled tiredly and said, "How do any of
us feel? Well enough to get the job done." She
glanced at the empty viewscreen.
Soon Kirk would order the screen activated
again. He would order his people to ignore the Aleph as
best they could, make it a priority to watch their
instruments, and hope for the best.
"Spock to bridge."
"Kirk here. Are you ready?"
"Yes, Captain. Ms. Payton's
equipment is quite elementary."
Spock's comment amused Payton.
Kirk walked up to stand next to her. He said,
"I won't let you fall into the Aleph too
far."
"What about Spock?"
Spock said, "I believe that my powers of
concentration are adequate for the task at hand."
"I'm sure they are," Kirk said. "Ready,
Ms. Payton?"
She nodded.
"All right, everyone. Attend to your instruments.
I don't want a bridge full of
somnambulists."
There was polite laughter among the crew.
"Lieutenant Uhura, let's have visual."
"Visual, aye, Captain."
And suddenly there was the Aleph spinning
and sparkling against the void. Even his limited
experience with the Aleph told Kirk that the spinning
and sparkling were illusions; he was seeing every component
of the universe playing itself out at a single point.
With difficulty he turned away from the Aleph
and looked at Payton. Her eyes were wide;
she seemed barely to be breathing.
"Ms. Payton?" Kirk said.
"It's beautiful, Captain. I see ...
everything."
She was still capable of answering him. They could
continue for a while yet. He called to Spock,
but there was no response.
"Spock," Kirk called, now worried.

"Here, Captain," Spock said. His body and
mind were functioning properly, which pleased him. The
pleasure did not have an emotional component, it
simply told him that everything was going according to plan.
The Aleph was fascinating but difficult to look
at. So many parts of the single point demanded his
attention. He recorded the Aleph and discovered
that the playback gave him only its gross
structure. All detail was lost. Apparently
Ms. Payton's equipment was not sophisticated
enough to pick up the Aleph's infinite
subtleties. Perhaps no machine was
sophisticated enough.
By changing the focus of his attention on the
direct input he could look at anything he
desired. The choice was almost overwhelming, even for
someone with the disciplined mind of a Vulcan. He
saw everything at a single point, with no confusion,
with no overlapping, with no crowding. Each thing,
each action was discrete, alone, a universe
among universes, an inspiration for new
philosophies.
He saw Captain Kirk pacing on the
bridge; crew members drinking coffee in the
rec room; his father pondering the ^ws of an
ancient Vulcan scroll; a part of the galaxy
where the stars seemed to touch and feed one another
swirling incandescent gases; creatures with great
teeth fighting under an alien ocean; teeming
cities; a mountain range reflected in a
single teardrop on a young girl's face; the
molten center of a planet; a bacterium; a
lizard creature using natural body acid
to lick its way out of its shell; a great black
space fleet. Spock could look over
his own shoulder.
"Fascinating."
"What's that, Spock?" Kirk asked.
"I am attempting to correlate my data,
Captain."
Spock felt himself drawn into the Aleph.
If he was having trouble maintaining his separateness
from the thing, certainly Ms. Payton would find it
more difficult. He touched a slider. Input from
the Aleph flowed into the monitor's computer as
well as into his own brain. Together they dissected,
analyzed, detected, deduced, calculated.
The interplay occurred faster than it could be
told, as fast as thought.
Spock erected geometrical models in his
mind. They looked like cubes, tetrahedrons,
tesseracts, and tesseracts of tesseracts,
shapes that extended along dimensions where
Spock's intelligence had never gone, had never
conceived of going. He rotated the shapes along their
small axes.
Suddenly the Aleph was gone, and, surprised,
Spock nearly fell off his chair. He held
on to the table tightly and used a Vulcan
technique to regain his mental equilibrium.
For some reason Payton had stopped looking at
the Aleph. Had she fainted? Had the captain
pulled her away from the viewscreen?
"Captain, I trust that everything on the
bridge is all right."

"Fine, Spock. Fine." Payton had
stopped answering when Kirk spoke to her, and the
irises of her eyes were open wide. She
didn't move. Kirk said, "Uhura, end
transmission now." The screen went blank.
He called for medics and then told Spock that
Payton had mentally fallen into the Aleph, and
he was taking her to sickbay. Seconds later
two orderlies arrived and carefully loaded
Payton onto an anti-grav stretcher.
Kirk followed them down to sickbay, where
McCoy got Payton situated on a
diagnostic couch and impatiently ran his hand
scanners over her. All the while McCoy
made the noncommittal grunting noises that
practitioners of his trade had been making for
hundreds, perhaps thousands, of years. When he was
done he pulled again and again at his lower lip.
"Well?" Kirk asked.
"She's fine, Jim. Exhausted, but other
than that, fine."
"Doctor?"
They turned and saw Spock, his face a
peculiar greenish gray, leaning against a
doorway. Kirk was startled by this. Spock liked
to keep up a strong front when he was sick, as
if germs and injuries affected him no more than
emotions. He made allowances for the frailties
and defects of others, but he claimed to have
complete control over his own body, and he saw
sickness as an impediment to doing his duty.
Kirk and McCoy helped him to a chair, and
Spock said, "I am quite all right, Doctor.
I merely came to sickbay because I was concerned
about Ms. Payton."
"She's fine. You'll stay in that chair till
I tell you you can get up." McCoy ran a
medical tricorder over him and said, "You're a
matched set with Ms. Payton, Spock. She
shows all the symptoms of a kid who's been too
long at the fair. Too much input.
Overexcitement--"
"Doctor!" Spock said, shocked.
"Overstimulation, then. Call it what you will,
you'll either rest now, or I'll strap you in bed
for a week."
"Threats will not avail you, Doctor. If I
rest now, we will certainly be dead in much less
than a week." Despite his prediction,
Spock did not attempt to stand.
"What is it, Spock?" Kirk asked.
Spock said, "Being in this universe does have
certain advantages. Because the Enterprise and the
Aleph are the only two significant
objects, discovering how the Aleph works is a
much simpler matter than it would be in a universe
such as our own, where the other masses would only
complicate my calculations."
McCoy said, "Only you could see an up
side to an empty universe."
"So our chances improve," Kirk said.
"Yes, Captain. But not enough. The doctor
has accurately diagnosed my physical
state. Though I fight against the characteristics of this
universe, I find myself progressively more
tired. My mind is not functioning at anything
near optimum efficiency. Processing the
images presented by the Aleph adds an
extraordinary load. Not even the
Vulcan mind is so constructed that it may look
on infinity with equanimity. Also, because of the strain
on the fabric of reality, I do not entirely
trust the evidence of my own eyes."
McCoy said, "At last we'll get a chance
to see if the computers work."
"The situation is not that simple, Doctor.
Because of the state of our sensors, I must select
and input the data manually. The amount of data
necessary is enormous."
"I don't understand," McCoy said angrily.
"We came through that Aleph. Our universe must
be on the other side."
"I remind you, Doctor, that Alephs do not
work in that fashion. We have no way to know what is
on the other side. The destination may be changing from
instant to instant. At the moment we go through, the
universe on the other side of the Aleph may be
even more incompatible than the one in which we find
ourselves. The physical laws of that universe may
cause us to dissipate, or even to explode
instantly, or they may cause us to suffer long,
painful deaths. The mathematics are not helpful
on this point."
Spock allowed them to absorb these facts.
Kirk knew that a good part of the hopelessness he
felt was caused by the nature of the universe they were
in; yet the picture Spock painted was not a
pretty one.
Spock continued his lecture. "My
preliminary work has shown me a still more unusual
fact Even if our universe is on the other
side of that Aleph, our presence in this empty
universe, a universe where we do not belong,
changes the system. And the changes are
cumulative."
"Meaning what?" McCoy asked.
"Our warp engines normally function at a
particular frequency, a frequency built into the
system by the dilithium crystals, the energy
conduits, and hundreds of other components. They
are all tuned by nature to their universe of
origin--our home universe. If the changes
I speak of did not occur, we might
reasonably expect that the natural frequency
of the warp engines would resonate most strongly with
our home universe, a universe that vibrates
at the same frequency. However, because the changes
between universes are cumulative, the natural
frequency at which our warp engines run
does not guarantee or even suggest the engines will
take us home."
"We'll have to retune them," Kirk said. In
his present condition the very idea seemed
overwhelming, like being asked to push boulders.
"Indeed, Captain. And every time we
translate from one universe to another it will be
necessary for me to start over again computing the correct
frequency. The more universes we travel through,
the more computing will be necessary at each stage. The warp
frequency needed is a function of where we begin
as well as of where we wish to terminate."
"Must you use that ^w?" McCoy demanded. He
evidently did not expect an answer, because he
went to see how Payton was doing. He ran a
medical scanner over her and said, "She'll
probably sleep for a few hours." He rubbed
his eyes. "We all should sleep for a few
hours."
"Do the calculations," Kirk said.
Spock said, "In my present state, even
assuming that hallucinations would not lead me astray,
I would not finish in time. Mr. Scott and I
working together would not finish in time. The monitor's
computer has neither the speed nor the memory
to make a significant difference."
"And without sensors the ship's computer is
useless."
"For this purpose, yes."
"Then we must go back through the Aleph now."
"The probability of our finding a more favorable
universe is not high."
"If we jump, we may die. If we stay
here, we'll die for sure. Given the
alternatives, I prefer to take a chance."
Kirk struggled to his feet and went to an
intercom. "Kirk to bridge. Mr. Chekov,
set course for the Aleph."
"Captain?"
"The Aleph, Mr. Chekov."
"Aye, Captain."
Kirk imagined Chekov and Sulu trading
speculative glances. The entire bridge
crew would feel the lift that came with a dangerous
but valiant attempt. No doubt they were glad
to be doing something besides just sitting at their stations.
"Take us home, Jim," McCoy said.
"I'll do the best I can," Kirk said.
It was anybody's guess whether his best would be
good enough. Their chances of striking the
correct universe were literally an infinity to one.
Not good odds in anybody's book. Their chances of
jumping to a universe at least as bad as this one were
better, a fact that Kirk did not find comforting.
But any chance they had was better than their chances
of living in this universe, which were a flat zero.
Besides, they did not need to get home to stay
alive; they needed only to find a more compatible
universe, and there must be plenty of those--at least
as many as there were less compatible universes. Must
be. He did not want to ask Spock's
opinion. A compatible universe would at least
give Spock and Scotty and the computer time
to calculate the proper warp engine frequency.
Time was what they needed most. Kirk was gambling
for it in the only game in town.
He gritted his teeth. Merely staying alive
was not enough. The Enterprise must return to its
home universe in order to stop Omen. The death
of Starfleet was too high a price to pay for an
uncertain and probably temporary peace.
Besides, it was clear to Kirk that the imposition of
peace was just another kind of war. For all his fine
talk, Omen was really no better than the people he
wanted to stop.
Kirk and Spock boarded a turbolift. It
groaned with the effort of carrying them, and the lights
dimmed once. As dangerous as it was, Kirk
did not regret his decision. They had to leave
now, or they probably would never leave. They would
deal with the next universe when they came to it.
Kirk took a deep breath as the turbolift
doors opened. With a great effort he strode to his
seat and said, "Report, Mr. Chekov."
"Course to Aleph laid in, sir."
"Main screen, Uhura."
The screen came to life and showed them the
Aleph. Kirk looked past its edge, hoping that
would save him from mentally falling into it. Should he
use the warp engines or not? Either way, Kirk
knew the probabilities were not in their favor.
Spock couldn't help him. Kirk would have to go with
his guts.
"Mr. Sulu, take us through. Full
impulse power."
"Aye, Captain."
Kirk could feel the strain on the impulse
engines, andwith body English he tried to help.
The ship approached the Aleph, and Kirk saw
a multitude of things, many of which he could
not identify. The Aleph seemed to open and open,
revealing more and more bits of the universe, and then the
ship was through.

Everyone but Spock cheered when they saw the
stars. Spock only raised an eyebrow and
nodded. For him that would serve for a cheer.
"We made it, Spock," Kirk cried.
He felt better already. And he must not have been
kidding himself about his sudden vitality, because the
impulse engines sounded normal, too.
"Perhaps, Captain. Many universes must have
stars."
"McCoy to bridge. Did we make it
home, Jim?"
Kirk said, "There still seems to be some question about
that, Doctor. I'll get back to you." Without
navigational sensors, and unless they had
incredibly good luck, doing a star-by-star match
would be impossible. He looked at Spock and
said, "But at least we have time."
Kirk felt better with each passing minute.
Though he did not know whether or not they were in their
home universe, he was encouraged by the fact that the
very nature of this universe was not hostile. The
combination of renewed good health and a stretch of
useful time made him optimistic. He felt like
singing, but he was not a singing man.
"Yes, Captain. I will begin." Spock
stood and walked toward the turbolift but was
stopped by what he saw on the viewscreen.
Kirk turned to look at what had so
surprised Spock. He stiffened, and the smile
fell off his face.
On the viewscreen before them was a Klingon
warship.

Chapter Eleven

"I need sensors now, Mr. Scott,"
Kirk cried into the intercom.
"We're working as fast as we can down here,
sir," Scotty said. He didn't mind pushing
himself and his people, but Kirk knew that Scott hated
mistreating his machines.
"Now, Mr. Scott," Kirk said.
"Aye, sir. You'll have them."
Kirk studied the Klingon ship. At first he
decided that by the greatest good fortune they had leapt
into their home universe after all. Then
he noticed details on the Klingon ship that
caused him to question his first determination. For one thing,
he'd never seen a Klingon ship with the main sensor
painted a dusty rose. The triform symbol of the
Klingon empire was missing from the warp pylons,
replaced by a simple diagram of a single
circling planet, or what might have been a
hydrogen atom. The shape of the disrupter cannon
was slightly different from what he recalled.
What, if anything, did all these small
differences add up to?
Just beyond the Klingon ship the Aleph
fulminated. Would the Klingons let them at it?
The Klingons that Kirk knew would not allow the
Enterprise to pass without a fight, and yet
Kirk was not ready to throw the first punch until he
had more information about these particular Klingons and their
faintly peculiar ship. Maybe throwing a punch
would not even be necessary. He swallowed and said,
"Hail them, Lieutenant."
"Captain, they're hailing us. But they're not
using a standard communication channel or a standard
hail."
After what he'd seen, Kirk was not
surprised. "Not nasty enough, eh,
Lieutenant? Put it on the screen. And see
if you can sweet-talk Mr. Scott into giving
me some sensors."
Uhura didn't even try to hide her smile
when she said, "Yes, sir," and she moved
to comply.
The picture of the Klingon ship was replaced
by what must have been the ship's captain. Kirk
goggled.
The first unusual thing he noticed about the
Klingon was that he didn't seem to be angry.
He seemed more--Kirk searched for the right ^w--
surprised. The Klingon's uniform was also
different from what Kirk had come to expect.
Instead of a severe and sinister outfit of darkly
colored leather and rough cloth, this Klingon was
wearing a costume of thin flowing stuff that was a
pastel green. Lace crossed one shoulder and
suspended a fringe of gemlike red teardrops.
The Klingon gaped at Kirk and said something
incomprehensible.
"What is that, Uhura, some Klingon
dialect?"
Uhura said, "I'm familiar with a few of the
Klingon dialects, sir. This
doesn't sound like any of them."
"Renegades, Spock?"
"Unknown, Captain."
"Lieutenant, put the universal
translator on line."
"Aye, sir."
Kirk said, "This is Captain James t.
Kirk of the Federation starship Enterprise.
Please identify yourself."
Seemingly near hysteria, the Klingon captain
shrieked something. The translator could make
nothing of it.
Kirk said, "We are on a peaceful mission.
Please identify yourself." Kirk knew that what
he said probably meant no more to the Klingon than
what the Klingon ^ws meant to him, but Kirk
hoped that his tone of voice would calm the Klingon,
convince him, at least momentarily, that his intentions
were not belligerent.
The Klingon spoke again, but this time he wasn't
hysterical. Of course, he wasn't angry
either, which was what Kirk would have expected under these
circumstances. The Klingon seemed more
petulant, like a fussing child. It didn't
matter. The universal translator needed
samples to work from, and Kirk was provoking the
Klingon into giving them samples. The Klingon
continued to speak. Occasional ^ws came through, but not
yet enough to give Kirk even the gist of the conversation.
Payton stepped down next to Kirk, and he
said, "I see that you escaped Dr. McCoy."
"He let me go. He couldn't find anything
wrong with me. Can I help?" She appraised
what was on the screen.
"Not unless you're an expert on rare Klingon
dialects."
"We have partial sensors," Spock said
quietly.
The Klingon stopped speaking and looked at
Kirk expectantly. Kirk held up an
open palm in what he hoped was a universal
gesture of peace and said, "Is it a Klingon
ship, Spock?"
"We know very little about the internal design of
Klingon ships, but the exterior is within ten
percent of known norms for the Kreega class."
"Ten percent. That's rather a wide deviation,
isn't it?"
"For a military vessel, yes."
"Armament?"
"Impossible to say at this time. Sensors
detect various structures and power usage
curves with which I am unfamiliar, but they follow
the general Klingon pattern for deflectors and
weapons."
Kirk liked to know what he was tangling with, but
it seemed not to be. He said, "What about the
crew? Are they Klingons?"
"As far as I am able to determine. We are not
yet capable of making a full sensor scan."
Evidently the translator had digested enough
of the language, because when the Klingon spoke again,
Kirk understood.
"Who are you? The planet is ours. Please
go away."
"I never heard a Klingon say
"please"'," said Uhura with some amazement.
Neither had Kirk, but at the moment he was more
interested in the planet the Klingons claimed than
he was in their etiquette. If the planet was on
the Enterprise books, it would tell them where they
were. Again Kirk said, "This is Captain
James t. Kirk of the Federation starship
Enterprise. Please identify yourself."
The Klingon said, "I am Captain Iola
of the Klingee Association. We know of no
Federation."
Kirk was certain that giving Iola the
textbook description of the Federation would do none
of them any good. He said, "We are part of a
partnership of space explorers, like yourselves."
"We are the only space explorers. The
planet is ours. Please go away." That
seemed to conclude the matter for Iola.
Kirk asked, "What do you mean, "only
space explorers"'?"
"Don't be stupid," Iola said. "We are
the only ones because there are no others. The Klingee
are the masters of all, from our home planet
to Kardoma's Wall at the end of the universe,
beyond which no man sees."
"A moment, Captain," Kirk said, and he
gave Uhura the signal to cut off the outgoing
audio. He leaned on the rail around the upper
level of the bridge and asked, "What do you think,
Spock? Are they just bragging, or what?"
"It is possible that they overstate their own
position, Captain, but the Klingee's uniqueness
in this universe would explain much their speech
patterns, their manner of dress, their
attitude toward us, and their dusty-rose
sensor."
"Then they have no combat experience."
"Perhaps not. Perhaps they fight one another.
Humans fought one another for centuries.
However, the pattern we see here is not generally that
of a militant race."
They were right back where they started, confronting an
unknown enemy in an unknown universe. "What
about the planet, Spock?"
Spock spoke while looking into his viewer.
Blue light washed his face. He said, "We
are within three standard planetary distances of it. From
all indications, it is the planet Earth.
Geographical features match to within one
percent."
Spock's announcement shocked Kirk, andfora
moment he could not speak. He wet his lips and
said, "The Klingons--er, Klingees--h conquered
Earth?"
"Perhaps, Captain, but not in the usual sense.
Sensors read plant life and some simple
animal forms. No artificial structures,
no electromagnetic radiation other than the
planet's natural magnetic field, and no
chemicals in the air to indicate industry of any
technical level."
"Humans never evolved?"
"Evidently. Nor any other creature."
Despite Spock's assurances, something in
Kirk wanted to save this Earth. That the Klingons
--Klingees--shd exploit it seemed obscene.
And yet, Kirk told himself, what the Klingees
did with the planet below did not matter. There were no
Earth people to harm.
Perhaps a more important interpretation of
Spock's discovery was that the Enterprise could not
possibly be in its home universe. And
Klingees were certainly not Klingons. Kirk
hoped that the differences would be in their favor. So
far, it seemed to be the case.
Captain Iola said, "What are you talking
about? I demand to know."
Kirk nodded at Uhura and said to the screen,
"We have no interest in the planet. But we must have
free access to that whirling body behind you."
"That's ours, too," Iola said. "Everything
is ours. It's all ours."
"We'll see about that," Kirk grumbled. He
was not impressed with what he'd seen of the
Klingees so far. They had a ship, and probably
weapons, but he doubted if they'd had much combat
training. Even if they fought among themselves, it could
not be much of a contest. Still, Kirk did not like
to shoot first and ask questions later. He said,
"Captain Iola, our need of the whirling body
is only temporary."
"That does not matter. It's ours, and you can't
have it." The screen went blank and a moment later
showed the Klingee ship again.
"We're dealing with children," Payton said softly
to Kirk.
Kirk nodded. The Klingee were bullies, used
to having their way. Maybe, like bullies, they could
be frightened by a show of force where they expected none.
He said, "Let's see how the lords of creation
react to a challenge. Mr. Chekov, fire a
low-energy phaser burst across the bow of the Klingee
ship."
"Aye, Captain."
"Fire when ready."
The phasers warbled as the needle of brilliant
light shot out, narrowly missing the Klingee ship.
Captain Iola's voice came over the
audio channel. "You shouldn't have done that. You'll
be sorry now."
Spock said, "Radical change of power
usage aboard the Klingee ship. I believe they
are readying a weapon."
Kirk barely had time to call for shields when
a spiral of orange fire twisted toward the
Enterprise. The spiral struck with a loud
gonging and caused the ship to heave when the inertial
compensators were momentarily overloaded. Stars
whirled across the viewscreen, and Kirk closed his
eyes against the dizziness he felt.
"Full impulse," Kirk commanded. The
damned thing must have grabbed the ship and flung it
away like a big, flat stone.
"Helm won't answer," Sulu cried.
Kirk had to stop the ship from spinning out of
control, and he called for microsteering verniers.
These were capable of making only small but very
precise adjustments and were generally used only for
maneuvering in and around spacedock. They were on
an entirely different control system than the
free space helm.
The stars slowed to a casual drift. A gabble
of damage reports came in.
"Uhura?" Kirk asked.
"Minor damage all over the ship. A lot
of bumps and bruises. Dr. McCoy
doesn't sound happy."
Kirk smiled. At any minute McCoy
would charge up there complaining about how he ran the
ship. After catching his breath Kirk called into the
intercom, "What's going on down there, Mr.
Scott?"
"Whatever hit us knocked out primary helm
control."
"Can you repair it?"
"This time, Captain. Another shock like that and
we might not be so lucky." Kirk had to prevent
the Klingee from attacking again. Of course, they
might have no intention of attacking again, but did a
bully ever quit while he was ahead? He said,
"Soon, Mr. Scott."
"Aye."
" Can you tell us where we are, Spock?"
"Aye, Captain. Local constellations are
within two percent of resembling the formations around the
planet Earth in our universe. We were thrown
approximately five hundred thousand
kilometers."
Half a million kilometers was not far
compared to interstellar distances, but it might as well
be parsecs if the Enterprise couldn't
navigate back to the Aleph. Kirk
reconsidered the Klingees. Evidently they had
a weapon that no one at home, not even the
Klingons, had yet perfected. However, if the
Klingees had it, the Klingons might be close
to perfecting it even now. One more reason they had
to get home to warn the Federation about the Klingons'
possible new weapon.
"Message coming in from the Klingees,
Captain."
"On screen."
The starfield on screen was replaced by the
smirking face of Captain Iola. "I guess
we showed you, Captain James t. Kirk. You
better not come back here, either. Our fleet will
arrive soon, and it'll take care of you
permanently."
"Captain--" Kirk said.
"No more talking. Stay away or we'll use
our cyclor on you again." The starfield returned
to the screen.
"What do you make of that, Spock?"
"Only the obvious. They are
threatening us to keep us away from their property."
"If they have that cyclor of theirs, why do they
need the fleet?"
"Unknown, Captain."
Kirk shook his head. There was no better
straight-line thinker than Mr. Spock, but he
had little talent for deviousness. Kirk said,
"I've suggested that you take up poker, Mr.
Spock."
"I assume your comment has some bearing on our
current situation."
"You may so assume."
Spock shrugged and said, "I derive
sufficient amusement from three-dimensional chess.
It is a game of logic and skill. Poker is
a game of chance."
"Yes, but poker can teach us lessons that
three-dimensional chess cannot. Such as why the
Klingees need the fleet."
"Indeed, Captain?"
"Yes. I think they're bluff+. I think that
the cyclor is either a one-shot weapon or a
weapon that takes time to build up a charge before it
can be used again. The Klingees want to make sure
we don't attack before their fleet arrives because
they cannot defend themselves. A fleet would give them
an acceptable margin of protection. What do you
think?"
"It is a viable theory," Spock admitted.
"We might test it by attacking them again and
observing their response."
"And risk the ship. If I'm wrong, we could
permanently lose our ability to navigate. I
have a better idea. Ms. Payton points out that
the Klingees are like children."
"Human children."
"Yes, Mr. Spock, human children. I
suggest that we can frighten them away, Iola's ship
and the entire fleet, if we convince them that we are
too powerful to fight, all-powerful."
"Perhaps," said Spock. "The problem will be in
convincing them."
"I don't think so. Using the Aleph, we can
see literally everything in the universe, maybe in
all universes. Surely I can discover a
secret aboard Iola's ship that they think we have
no way of knowing."
"Given the little we know of Klingee
psychology, such a plan might work. But I must
insist that I be the one to search the Aleph
for the secret."
"Keeping all the fun for yourself, Spock?"
Spock frowned. The man couldn't take a
joke. Or he was determined to pretend that he
didn't know a joke when he saw one. "No,
Captain. As a Vulcan, I am the only
crew member on the Enterprise who has the
mental discipline to maintain his own identity while
looking into the Aleph, and therefore the only one who
has any chance of completing the mission. The fact
is, sir, that we cannot afford to lose you."
"You won't lose me."
"The probability of your completing the mission
is less than one in three thousand. The chance that
your psychological makeup will be permanently
impaired is much greater."
Where did Spock get these numbers? Did the
recitation of probabilities constitute
Vulcan humor? Numbers with a three in them are
funny? Kirk said, "I'm not asking for your
permission, Spock."
Spock pressed his lips together. Kirk knew
he didn't want to argue with his captain, but as
first officer, Spock felt it was his duty to point
out all likely dangers. Moreover, Kirk
knew that Spock was probably correct.
Payton had not been able to maintain her sense of
self for long, and even Spock had had
difficulty. The truth was that Kirk was curious.
He wanted to abandon himself to the Aleph,
experience it fully. He felt that he would never
have a better chance. And yet Spock .was
probably right.
Kirk said, "Let's compromise, Spock.
I'll search the Aleph, and you can stay with me the
whole time, pull me back if I seem to have
gone too far."
Spock considered that, eyebrows up. "Very
well, Captain. And Dr. McCoy can do the
same for Ms. Payton."
Payton nodded.
Kirk said, "We have sensors now. Do we
need Ms. Payton?"
Spock said, "In their present condition,
ship's sensors are not sufficient to study the
Aleph from this distance. Therefore, while you watch
Ms. Payton's monitor, it is necessary that
Ms. Payton once again watch the main
viewscreen. Her implant will send the image
down to Professor Omen's equipment,
and then to her monitor."
Kirk had not counted on Payton's
involvement. "What about the records of the Aleph
we made?"
"Not sufficiently detailed for our
purpose."
"Very well," Kirk said, resigned to putting
Payton through the mill once again.
"I will make the proper adjustments to Ms.
Payton's monitor," Spock said, and he
left the bridge.
"Doesn't give an inch, does he?"
Payton asked.
"His stubbornness," Kirk said, "is both his
pride and his curse."

Kirk sat in the chair before Payton's
monitor, amused by McCoy's discomfort.
"So you're going to take a look for yourself,"
McCoy said mournfully.
"You act as if I'm about to die, Doctor."
"I just don't want to lose you in there."
"Mr. Spock is my guardian angel. You
will be ministering to Ms. Payton. She's on the
bridge waiting for you."
To Spock McCoy said, "Pull him away
if he sinks too deep. I'll do the same with
Ms. Payton."
"Understood, Doctor."
"Get out of here, Bones. We're wasting time.
We don't know when that Klingee fleet will
arrive."
After a last worried look at Kirk
McCoy left.
"He's as bad as you are," Kirk said.
"We are both"--Spock searched for a ^w--
"concerned."
"I appreciate that. Let's get started."
Presently the monitor showed the face of
Lieutenant Uhura. She was saying, "No,
actually being communications officer is more than just
answering the phone. It can be very exciting." The
view swung around when McCoy came in through the
turbolift and he said, "They're ready down
there, Ms. Payton. How about you?" Kirk
watched through Payton's eyes as McCoy
conducted her to the command chair. Kirk had seen the
bridge thousands of times under many conditions, and
yet, watching it on the monitor screen, he was
fascinated, as if he'd never seen it
before.
Spock pushed a button on the desk
intercom and said, "Ms. Payton, you may
begin."
"Let's see the Aleph, Uhura,"
Payton said.
The stars shifted, and a prick of bright light
appeared in the middle of the monitor screen. It
was the Aleph. Spock made an adjustment and
brought the image of the Aleph closer. Being a
point, it increased only in intensity, not in
size.
Spock said, "Concentrate, Captain. It
is the only sure way to success."
"I'll be fine, Spock."
For the first time Kirk gave himself up to the
Aleph entirely. He saw the face of every
crew member on the Enterprise, the contents of
their closets (enough to make a captain blush),
the harsh and nervous dazzle inside the warp
engines, the lattice structure of dilithium
crystals, and individual dilithium
molecules. He tried to shift his point of
view to the Klingee ship, where he could find something
hidden, something private and unknowable.
He lost the sense of his chair, and then of his own
body. He felt his self-awareness lighten and
diffuse from a near-tangible thing to a dissipating
cloud. Kirk tried to catch the edges of the cloud,
to keep it confined, but with less success as time went
on. And soon holding the cloud in the bowl of his
consciousness didn't matter. He took in
everything the Aleph showed him, without prejudice,
without selectivity, without question. And soon after that the
visions in the Aleph were all that existed.

Spock stood next to Kirk's chair,
looking only at him. At this time he could not
afford to fall into the Aleph himself. Kirk's
eyes were open, staring, sucking in the image of the
Aleph.
"What is your condition, Captain?" Spock
asked.
"I am everywhere."
The answer did not assure Spock overmch,
but the fact that the captain could answer at all was
encouraging.
The sound of the bosun's whistle came from the
intercom, followed by the voice of Lieutenant
Uhura. "Bridge to Captain
Kirk."
"Spock here. The captain is unavailable."
"You'd better get up here, Mr. Spock.
The Klingee fleet is closing on us."
"I will be there momentarily, Lieutenant.
Spock out."
Spock had two alternatives. He could
pull Kirk out now, or he could command the bridge
himself. Judging by Ms. Payton's condition after
her first session, the captain would need at least an
hour's rest after being pulled out of the Aleph.
Spock's only logical choice was to go to the
bridge now. After all, his first duty was to the
ship. That had been true even when his father's life
hung in the balance. Yet Spock could not leave
the captain alone.
"Spo ck to Nurse Chapel."
"Here, Mr. Spock."
"Please attend to Captain Kirk. He is
in Ms. Payton's cabin. Enter without
announcing yourself. If he is drawn too
deeply into the Aleph, you must extract him
immediately. And I must stress that under no
circumstances are you to look at the Aleph
yourself."
"Yes, Mr. Spock. But what if--"
Spock knew that his instructions were vague,
insufficient for the situation. He would have to trust
what had been called Chapel's "maternal
instincts." Spock said, "I have no time,
Nurse. I will be on the bridge if you need
me."
"Yes, Mr. Spock." She still sounded
unsure.
Spock punched off the intercom and left
hurriedly for the bridge.

Chapter Twelve

Kirk awoke. He was himself again, and yet an
odd discomfort remained, one that he'd never
experienced before. He felt as if his consciousness
were limited somehow, enclosed. As if,
psychologically, he were living inside an egg.
He opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling.
It was much like every other ceiling aboard the
Enterprise. Behind him was a familiar slow,
rhythmic sound. What was that sound? His heartbeat.
No, not his heartbeat, but an electronic
representation of it. He must be on a
diagnostic couch in sickbay.
He called out, "Bones," and he was aware that
he'd made no sound. He'd called out only in
his head. He tried again and succeeded only in
making a sound like a frog.
Then McCoy was standing over him, waving his
scanner as if it were a magic wand. "You just lie
there, Jim. Spock has everything under control."
What needed to be under control? Had the Klingee
fleet arrived? Had it attacked? Kirk
croaked again.
"You'll be catching flies any minute,
Captain. Rest. That's doctor's orders."
Kirk was going to argue with McCoy, but he
lost track of what he was going to say. The next
thing he knew, he jerked awake. Until then
he wasn't even aware that he'd fallen
asleep. After he was awake he remembered that
he'd dreamed about the Aleph. Only in his
dream, instead of seeing the pieces of the universe
with sharp clarity, he saw them as revealed through
swirling holes in a thick, ominous fog.
He opened his eyes and saw Nurse Chapel
standing over him, a concerned expression on her
face. Maybe she would answer some questions. He
swallowed and found his throat sleeved with sandpaper.
He swallowed again. Better. Kirk meant
to ask what was going on but managed to bleat only
the first ^w.
"When Mr. Spock went to the bridge I
watched you until Dr. McCoy called me.
I made sure you hadn't swallowed your tongue
and then got you down to sickbay as quickly as I
could."
If Spock had left him in Chapel's care
without taking time to fully explain what Kirk was
doing, maybe the Klingee fleet really had
arrived. He had to get up to the bridge. While
he struggled to sit up, Chapel, the traitor,
called McCoy. Before McCoy arrived Kirk
noticed that Payton was sleeping on the couch
next to him. Poor kid; she probably hadn't
bargained for this kind of abuse when she'd had that
implant installed.
McCoy rushed in and pushed Kirk back
onto the couch. "You'd never make it across the
room, let alone all the way to the bridge."
"Spock--"
"Spock told me to tell you that the Klingee
fleet arrived, but it seems more interested
in that empty Earth than in the Enterprise. The
ship is in no danger."
That was good news, if it was true. Spock
wouldn't lie, but McCoy might, to keep him in
bed. And Spock would know McCoy might. Even
if the report was true, Kirk knew that the
situation could change in seconds. He tried
to sit up again. McCoy called, "Nurse,
bring me the really large anesthetic mallet."
Kirk knew that McCoy was kidding about the
mallet, but he also knew that McCoy would fill
him full of sedatives if he didn't
cooperate. Kirk said, "I want to see
Spock."
After a moment of consideration McCoy relented
and called the bridge. A few minutes later
Spock stood next to Kirk's couch and said,
"I trust you are well, Captain."
"I feel like a ghost inside my own body."
"It'll pass," McCoy said. "It did with
Payton."
Neither Spock nor McCoy volunteered
any more information. They watched him as if they
expected him to evaporate at any moment.
Perhaps they were just being kind, not wanting to rush his
recovery, but their actions made Kirk tense and
impatient. He asked, "How's the ship?"
"We can now navigate. And Mr. Scott
progresses with his sensor repairs."
"We still have partial sensors?"
"Yes."
"That's something, I guess. What about the
Klingee fleet?"
"The fleet seems to have no particular interest
in the Enterprise as long as it does not
approach the Aleph or the planet."
"You experimented?"
"Aye, Captain. None of the Klingee paid the
least attention to the Enterprise until, on my
command, we approached the Aleph at one quarter
impulse."
"And then?"
"Captain Iola warned us away. I chose
to take his threat seriously."
"Prudent, Mr. Spock. But the result
is we still don't have anything with which to impress the
Klingee."
"No. However, my time has been well
spent. Using my own observations and the recordings
made by Ms. Payton's monitor,
I have made progress toward finding a proper
formula for retuning the warp engines."
"I thought the recordings didn't have enough detail
to be useful."
"Not useful for spying, Captain, but they do
suggest certain facts about the geometry of the
small dimensions, facts I found very useful
indeed."
Leave it to Spock to get blood from a
turnip. Kirk asked, "How close are you?"
"Very close. But once I am finished, Mr.
Scott will need nearly an hour to adjust the
engines to my specifications. By normal engineering
standards the specifications are rather bizarre."
"Mr. Scott won't be happy."
"I am aware of that, Captain."
Kirk sat up, and McCoy moved toward him
as if Kirk were made of glass and in danger of
falling to the floor. "I'm all right, Bones."
He looked at Spock and went on, "But if
we can't get to the Aleph, all of your work will have
been for nothing."
"Indeed, Captain. If every one of the Klingee
ships is armed with a cyclor--and I have no reason
to believe they are not--then the Enterprise is
hardly a match for the fleet."
"If we can't outfight them, we'll have
to outthink them."
"Mr. Kent won't be happy," Ms.
Payton said.
Kirk and Spock looked at her. Kirk had
forgotten she was there. She was sitting up with her
legs dangling over the edge of the couch. McCoy
ran a scanner over her and said, "The machine
says you're feeling fine. What do you say?"
She smiled and said, "Who am I to argue with the
machine?"
Spock said, "Despite Ms. Payton's
apparent fitness, I hesitate to ask her
to look deeply into the Aleph for a third time."
Payton bit her bottom lip and frowned, but
she said nothing.
Kirk said, "I would be delighted to consider an
alternative."
Spock looked at Payton and shook his
head. "I have none. I am sorry."
Payton shrugged and said, "That's all right,
Mr. Spock. I don't think it hit me quite so
hard the second time."
"Bones?"
"It hit you hard enough, Ms. Payton.
Captain, you can't put this woman's life in
danger again. Why not use those partial sensors of
yours?"
Spock said, "They are only partial
sensors, Doctor, and not capable of taking in the
great volumes of information required for our search
to be meaningful."
"There must be some alternative," McCoy
said.
Spock said, "The captain asked for
suggestions. Unless you have one, we must proceed as
planned."
Kirk nodded and said, "Ms. Payton, if
Conrad Franklin Kent fires you, I think we
can find a place for you in Starfleet."
Payton said, "Thank you, I guess," but
she was smiling when she said it. The woman had a
lot of charm. Once again Kirk was sorry that she
was spoken for.
When Kirk began to get up McCoy tried
to stop him again. But Kirk said, "If Ms.
Payton is going to risk her life one more time,
the least I can do is take my post on the
bridge."
McCoy could see that he was fighting a losing
battle. He said, "All right. I'll be along
after I tie up some loose ends here. All of you
be careful."
Spock stared at McCoy for a moment, single
eyebrow raised. Kirk only said that they'd do
their best. Payton kissed McCoy on the
cheek, which pleased him for a moment, and then he
remembered how upset he was, and he merely
seemed confused. As they left sickbay Kirk
thanked Chapel for saving him from the Aleph. She
seemed a little puzzled about what had actually
happened but was willing to accept the gratitude.
As Kirk, Spock, and Payton walked to the
turbolift Kirk said, "You were right, Spock.
The Aleph sucked me right out through my eyes."
The truth was, even now Kirk was not
entirely comfortable inside his own skin. Everything
he saw looked familiar, not just because he'd
walked along this corridor many times before, but because
he'd seen it and thousands of other corridors in the
Aleph. Because of the Aleph his memory was
deeper, more profound. In his mind, briefly, for
no more time than a star takes to twinkle once, this
corridor between sickbay and the
turbolift became the archetype, the fundamental
model for all corridors.
And then, though the profundity was gone as quickly
as it had come, the memory of what he'd seen in the
Aleph remained. He remembered not only the
corridor itself, but the electronics buried in it
and the electrons flowing through the electronics,
living pricks of light always in a hurry; he
knew the nearly invisible nick in the interc om
button at the corridor's intersection; the
microscopic layer of organic molecules
laid down against the wall by the respiration of his
crew; the excited atoms in the glow bars in the
ceiling.
And when crew members passed Kirk knew
them, too, and what they kept in their closets, and
how some of them picked at their fingers when they were
alone, or pulled their ears, or rubbed their chins.
He had seen everything in the Aleph, and when he
saw something in life it reminded him of the
millions of other events or actions or
artifacts like it or around it, reminded him as if
it were something he had experienced but forgotten till
now.
"The Aleph is engaging, Captain."
"It's damned hypnotic." Kirk smiled
ruefully. "I wonder if anything will ever again
surprise me."
"It all looks familiar, doesn't it?"
Payton commented.
"Henry the Fifth," Spock said.
"What?" Kirk and Payton said together.
"Henry the Fifth, by your Earth playwright
Shakespeare. I quote

his... Can this cockpit hold
The vasty fields of France? Or may we
cram
Within this wooden O the very casques
That did affright the air at Agincourt?"

Kirk said, "The Aleph is Shakespeare's
wooden O? I suppose so, if we allow for
poetry."
Payton had been staring at Spock ever since
he'd mentioned Shakespeare. Now she said, "I
had no idea that Vulcans had an interest in the
arts."
"We are generally self-conscious dancers,
Ms. Payton, but in the other arts the
Vulcans' love of logic does not preclude
our appreciation of beauty."
The turbolift came, and they walked aboard.
The captain said, "Deck 5," and the lift began
to whine. It arrived at Deck 5, and Kirk
put a hand on Spock's arm. He said, "Be
careful, Spock. At the moment you're the most
valuable officer I have."
Spock jerked around as if Kirk had succeeded
in surprising him. "I, sir?"
"Among the crews on the ships that have
disappeared, you're the only Vulcan science
officer. That gives the Enterprise a chance not
enjoyed by the other ships Omen sent through the
Aleph. You're the only one with enough mental
discipline to remember your mission while inside the
Aleph. The Enterprise could never get out of this
without you."
"May I remind you, sir, that we are not "ou
of this"' yet?"
"No. But we will be."
"Wishful thinking, Captain?"
"No, Mr. Spock. Trust. Trust in you
and Ms. Payton and in the Enterprise."
"I will endeavor to be worthy."
"Me, too," said Payton.
Spock hurried off to Ms. Payton's
cabin while Kirk and Payton rose the few
decks to the bridge. Kirk wondered who he was
kidding, or if he was kidding anybody. Even
Vulcans liked to be appreciated, but neither
Spock nor Payton needed a pep talk.
Both of them understood the importance of what they were
trying to do.
Spock's presence did in fact improve
their chances of getting home, but it did not
guarantee that they would. There were many factors
to consider, and certainly factors they knew nothing
about. He trusted his people, believed in them, but they were
not magicians.

On the main viewscreen Kirk saw a
planet that was not Earth--not their Earth, anyway;
a single twinkling light that had to be the Aleph--
too far away to be either useful or dangerous;
and the Klingee fleet arrayed in what he assumed
was a battle formation. Or maybe the pattern just
satisfied their esthetics. Considering the little he
knew about them, either guess could be correct. In
any case, he counted only fifteen
ships. He wondered if that was the entire fleet.
It didn't matter. If they were armed with
cyclors, fifteen was more than enough. He tried
to identify Iola's ship but couldn't. Every
Klingee ship had a dusty-rose main sensor.
McCoy came onto the bridge and without a
^w went to stand next to Ms. Payton. She was
sitting in Spock's chair rubbing her palms on
her legs and biting her lower lip. Kirk hated
putting her through this again, but even Spock admitted
that using Payton's enhanced senses was the only
way for them to get the look at the Aleph they
needed.
"Mr. Spock is signaling ready, sir,"
Uhura said.
"Very well. Ms. Payton?" He looked
over his shoulder.
"Ready, Captain," Payton said.
McCoy nodded.
Kirk said, "Mr. Sulu, give the
Enterprise a nudge toward the Aleph.
Let's see how close we can get without alarming
somebody."
"Aye, sir."
Very slowly the planet and the fleet moved to one
side of the screen, and the Aleph grew brighter in the
center.
"Message coming in, sir."
"All stop. On screen, Uhura."
A Klingee Kirk had not seen before appeared.
He was dressed in some flimsy blue stuff, and
he had more droplet-shaped jewels dangling from his
shoulder lace than did Iola.
The Klingee said, "I am Ruho, commander of the
Klingee fleet. The spinning thing is ours. The
planet is ours. Go away, or we will use the
cyclor again."
Kirk wondered if any of them had actually
looked at the Aleph, or if they were concentrating
on the planet. Could their brains comprehend what
they saw in the Aleph even as well as humans
did? Maybe as far as they were concerned the Aleph
was just a "spinning thing."
"Do we have magnification?" Kirk asked.
"We do, sir," said Sulu, "but only up
to magnification three."
Kirk wished Scott would hurry. A starship
without full sensors was like a blind man with his hands
tied behind his back. "Magnification three, then."
They were some thousands of kilometers
closer to the Aleph than they had been before. Perhaps
they could get even closer, but Kirk didn't
want to push the Klingee now, with their plan ready.
"Would you like to sit closer to the screen, Ms.
Payton?"
"I'm fine, Captain."
"All right. Any time you're ready."
Nothing much happened on the bridge for a while.
Kirk went up to help McCoy keep watch
over Payton. She quickly fell into the
trancelike state that characterized someone studying the
Aleph. Bridge machinery boinked and hummed and
twittered. Crew members concentrated on their
boards and shuffled their feet. Kirk didn't know
what he would do if Payton dived too deep
before Spock told them he'd located what he was
looking for. He hoped he would not have to find out.
Time passed slowly. When Mr. Spock's
call came Kirk was certain that hours had
passed. That was not possible, of course. McCoy
turned Payton away from the Aleph, and she
collapsed. He called for orderlies and a
stretcher.
"I'll see how Spock is doing," Kirk
said.
McCoy promised to come up after he got
Payton settled. "Not even Spock's
Vulcan constitution can stand much of this." The
orderlies arrived as Kirk left.
Kirk found Spock with his head down on the
desk in front of Payton's equipment. He
immediately sat up straight when Kirk entered.
"Are you all right, Spock?" Kirk asked.
"I am fatigued. It will pass."
"I want McCoy to have a look at you."
"It is unnec."
"He'll be here soon. Wait for him. That's
an order."
Spock gave a small nod, as if no.ing were
a great effort.
"You found what we were looking for."
Spock said, "I believe so," and he told
Kirk all about it. Kirk agreed that it would do the
trick. Neither of them was certain, of course;
guessing what an alien would find valuable or
embarrassing was difficult, but Spock and Kirk
had dealt with many kinds of beings, and their guess was
an educated one. Or at least an experienced
one. The very fact that they knew of this object's
existence might be all that was necessary to frighten
Captain Iola.
"Did you finish the formula?"
"I did. The answer is surprisingly
simple. The mathematics allows many components
to cancel."
"All the better. After McCoy sees you,
get it to Mr. Scott and tell him to start tuning
the warp engines immediately. If our plan works, I
want us into the Aleph and away before the Klingee have
second thoughts about our omnipotence."
"Understood, Captain." With difficulty
Spock stood.
Once more Kirk was about to order Spock
to wait for McCoy when the bosun's whistle
came over the intercom and Mr. Scott's
voice said, "Engineering to Captain Kirk."
"Kirk here, Scotty. What is it?"
"You have the full range of sensors,
Captain."
"Well done, Mr. Scott. Mr. Spock
will be down in a few minutes with some unorthodox
tune-up specifications. Please follow them
exactly."
"Exactly how unorthodox, sir?" Scott
asked suspiciously.
"Mr. Spock will discuss that with you."
"Aye, Captain." Scott did not sound
happy, but he could be counted on to implement
Spock's instructions.
McCoy came in looking worried.
"How is she, Bones?"
"She'll live, but that last bout was much more
difficult for her than she pretended. I wouldn't
be surprised if she slept for a few days."
"See that she gets all the rest she needs.
We have sensors now. She won't have to do it again."
McCoy studied Spock with critical
detachment and said, "For a Vulcan he looks
positively decrepit."
"Thank you, Doctor. Is that a
professional opinion?"
"No. That was just a friendly observation. The
professional opinion comes after the examination."
"Hurry up, Bones. Spock has to get
down to engineering."
McCoy ran some scanners over Spock and
pronounced him fit, but ready for a long nap.
"Vulcan physiology being what it is, he can
probably go without the nap for a while."
"He'll need to, Doctor.
Thank you. Come on, Spock."
Kirk and Spock went down to engineering. In the
turbolift Spock sagged against the wall.
"Can you do this?" Kirk asked.
Spock stood away from the wall and clasped his
hands behind his back. "I am in control,
Captain."
K irk was aware that Spock had not answered his
question, but surely it would soon answer itself.
Though the Klingee were leaving them alone for the
moment, that situation might change. Back in the
home universe Professor Omen was making
demands, sending other ships to their deaths through other
Alephs. Time was their enemy just as surely as
space and the geometry of small dimensions.
Even so, Kirk could not ignore the suffering of his
friend. He said, "If you need some time, Spock
..."
"Captain, we must do this now, as soon as
possible. My calculations are rather vague on how
long an Aleph remains stable, but I believe
that the one we have been traveling through is nearing the
end of its life."
"Anything we can do about that?"
"The theory of small dimensions presents us with
intriguing possibilities. But without further
study they remain only possibilities."
Once again time was their enemy. They had entire
universes to play with, and yet time was limiting their
choices, boxing them in.
When Kirk made no comment, Spock went
on. "I suggest we work as quickly as we can. If
that Aleph loses cohesion, it will tear itself apart
and break up in seconds. We will be marooned in
this universe."
Kirk swallowed hard. It was amazing how
calm Spock could be while making these dire
pronouncements. He asked, "How long do we
have?"
"Hours. Perhaps less."
"We can't make another one?"
"Professor Omen is some years ahead of
me in designing an Aleph generator.
Reproducing his work is possible, but I would need
a similar amount of time, perhaps longer."
The situation was even more desperate than Kirk
had imagined. While the ship remained intact he
had hope, but he'd rarely felt so cut off from
civilization. He was an explorer, something of an
adventurer in the mode of earlier
centuries, when men sailed beyond the edge of the world in
wooden ships. Satisfying one's own curiosity
had its rewards, but ultimately exploration was
meaningless unless one could report home.

The turbolift seemed to take forever to get to the
engineering level, but it arrived at last,
distracting Kirk from his gloomy thoughts. When
Spock told Scotty what he had in mind
Scotty went pale and said it was impossible.
Spock assured him that it was not only possible but
necessary.
"Aye, but it'll tie the warp engines
into knots."
"Let's get to it, Mr. Scott," Kirk
said.
"Aye," said Scott unhappily, but he
set to work with a will. Spock brought his calculations
up onto a terminal and read off settings
to Kirk and Scott. They ran from station to station,
resetting controls and studying how the changes
affected gauges. Scott continued to shake his
head and mumble about his poor bairns.
Kirk could sympathize with Scott. After
all, the Enterprise was his ship, too, and
Scotty felt that Spock was hurting it. Kirk
smiled. Sometimes, late in a party where
Starfleet officers gathered, talk turned to the
question of self-awareness of Constitution-class
starships. Just how complex did a ship need to be
before it took an interest in its surroundings, before it
felt an emotional responsibility for the crew
it carried? Everyone had heard unsubstantiated
stories about how a ship had saved its crew,
seemingly without the action of any living being.
Still, for his own peace of mind, Kirk had
to believe that merely feeding the Enterprise
unusual parameters would not hurt her or make
her unhappy or please her, for that matter.
Despite his rational arguments, Spock's odd
settings made Kirk as nervous as they made
Scotty.
When Spock was finished Scotty looked at
the mish-mash of settings he and Kirk had just
entered into the warp engine controls and shook his head.
Kirk said, "Wait for my command, Mr.
Scott. When you get it I'll need warp speed
immediately."
"Aye, Captain. If Mr. Spock's
settings don't have us trotting up our
own backsides, you'll have it."

While they rode up in the turbolift Kirk
said, "You seem pensive, Mr. Spock."
"I am not pensive, Captain, merely
thoughtful."
"You don't think my plan will work."
"I can concoct no better one. Yet your
plan does seem to rely overmch on
theatrics."
"You have no confidence in my ability to play
poker."
"On the contrary, Captain. My confidence in
you is great. I lack only confidence in the
ability of the Klingee to appreciate your
efforts."
Kirk had not considered that possibility, but now
that Spock had said it, Kirk feared that it might
be true. But he had hope, too. And if
Spock was right, hope was their only comfort.





Chapter Thirteen

Kirk and Spock entered the bridge and went
to their stations. Kirk studied the viewscreen. He
saw the other Earth, the Klingee fleet, and the
glimmer of the Aleph under the filter Uhura had
put over it. Like many weapons, the Aleph had
its own nasty beauty.
Feeling as if he were leaping into darkness, Kirk
said, "Open a channel to Captain Iola."
"Aye, sir," said Uhura.
A moment later Iola appeared on the
screen. He looked surprised and amused, like a
kid who knew he had the upper hand and didn't
mind flaunting his superiority. "Asking for the
spinning thing again is pointless, Captain. We
Klingee are heartless brutes."
Kirk doubted that. They had one good weapon and a
bully's bluster. Of course, Kirk was not above
using a little bluster himself. He said, "We have been
patient, Iola, but our patience is at an
end."
"Hah," Iola exclaimed. He smirked and
crossed his arms.
"You and your fleet will depart now, or
we will destroy you. To show you that we are merciful as
well as powerful, we are willing to give you a
demonstration of our omniscience and power."
Iola glanced to one side. He was desperate
to turn around, see how the rest of the crew was taking
his performance, but he dared not show that weakness. For the
purposes of this discussion he had to pretend that he
didn't care what anybody else thought.
Iola said, "^ws can't hurt us."
"Perhaps," Kirk said coyly.
"What will you do?"
"You'll know it when you see it." Kirk made
the cutthroat motion to Uhura, and Iola
disappeared.
"How am I doing, Spock?" Kirk asked.
"The Klingee does seem to be intrigued."
"We're being hailed, Captain."
"Count to thirty and then open a channel."
"Aye, Captain," Uhura said with
pleasure.
Half a minute later Iola appeared on the
screen again. He said, "If you have ^ws to say,
say them."
"Very well. A component of your cyclor is
defective."
Iola smiled and said, "You are making that up.
You don't know anything about our cyclor."
"The component is a particle accelerator. It
is about this size"--he held up his fist--?and
has three red bumps on one end. On the other
end is a long curved pipe."
"How did you know about that? Who told?"
"Nobody told. We see all." Kirk
finished ominously, "And we tell all. For
instance, we know about that thing in your cabin. It is
small and brown."
Iola's eyes widened.
"It is soft and has lumps all over it.
On top is a blue circle, and at the other
end is--"
"What about the accelerator? You said it was
broken." Iola was obviously more horrified
by Kirk's second revelation than by his first.
The small brown thing would obviously be a source
of great embarrassment to Iola if his crew found
out about it.
Kirk let the small brown thing ride. It
had done its job. He said, "Not broken.
Defective. The pipe has a microscopic
crack in it. Eventually the crack will
cause your cyclor to fail."
"You lie. There was no crack before. You put the
crack there."
Kirk liked Iola's guess. It was a
wrinkle Kirk hadn't thought of, but it made the
beings aboard the Enterprise seem even more
powerful. Kirk shrugged. "I didn't lie about
the small brown thing, did I?"
The Klingee gaped at him and ended the
transmission.
"Did it work?" Chekov asked.
"We'll see in a moment," Kirk said.
"They need time to pass the ^w that their lives are
open books."
"It would horrify me," Sulu said.
"Teddy bear on the bed, Mr. Sulu?"
Kirk asked.
"You got me, sir," Sulu said.
"There they go, Captain," Uhura said.
The fleet was leaving with, Kirk supposed,
Captain Iola's ship in the lead. They sailed
under impulse power for a few seconds and then, like
snapped rubber bands, disappeared into warp space.
"Set course for the Aleph, Mr. Chekov."
"Course has been laid in for hours, sir."
Kirk punched his intercom button and demanded,
"Now, Mr. Scott."
"Aye."
"Ahead warp one, Mr. Sulu."
"Aye."
They approached the Aleph, it flashed around
them, and then the stars returned. Kirk could not
tell if they were the right stars or not.
"Spock?"
"Sensors indicate an exact match with
navigational benchmarks. We are in the correct
universe, and very near the spot from which we departed."
"I have subspace chatter, too, sir,"
Uhura said.
Kirk felt a surge of relief. Chekov
and Sulu shook hands and then, like Kirk and the
others, took pleasure in watching the friendly stars
pour toward them.
"You did it, Spockffwas Kirk said.
"Thank you, Captain, but I did not guide
us home alone. Mr. Scott was of immense
service, and we are fortunate that Ms. Payton
and her implant were aboard."
Kirk mused on that for a moment. Scotty's
usefulness was never a surprise. But
Conrad Franklin Kent would certainly be
chagrined if his chief aide earned a commendation from
Starfleet. Payton deserved it, though, and the
chagrin of Mr. Kent would be one of the benefits,
as far as Kirk was concerned.
"How is it possible that we have n ot moved?"
Chekov asked.
The paradox of the situation was striking. Kirk
said, "We've been to two alien universes, but
we didn't actually move much in normal
terms." He turned to Spock and said, "Anything
on Professor Omen's ship, Erehwon?"
"Nothing, Captain. But the Aleph is still with
us, and our sensors are now fully functional.
With your permission, I will search the Aleph for
Erehwon's present course and speed."
Kirk knew that Spock had been through a lot
lately. It was understandable that his posture was not quite so
straight nor his voice so firm as usual. He
asked, "Are you all right, Spock?"
"I recover rapidly, Captain. Besides,
I find that looking at the Aleph through ship's
sensors is not the raw experience it was when looking
through Ms. Payton's monitor."
"You already looked?"
"It was necessary to test the sensors."
"I see." Kirk had to smile. "So now you
intend to look over Omen's shoulder at his
navigational telltales."
"Yes, sir."
Kirk found it pleasing that after giving them so much
trouble the Aleph was, at long last, going
to help them. He said, "While you're at it, you
might study the inner workings of his augmented
tractor beam generator and his Aleph
generator. And see if you can discover why we
couldn't beam him over here when we tried before."
"Aye, Captain. Such an investigation would
surely give us the clues we need to counter
Omen's tractor beam and his Alephs. As for the
transporter, that may be a more complicated
matter."
"More complicated than the Aleph?" Kirk
asked with surprise.
"I fear so. The Aleph is really only a
complex twist in the space-time continuum. On the
other hand, a transporter beam is composed of a
great many parts all working together. Using the Aleph,
I may discover what wave cluster he blocked,
or what combination of clusters, and we may
be able to modify our beam accordingly. However, the
modified beam may no longer be safe to use.
We may beam him to the Enterprise only
to discover that in the process we have seriously
distorted his body or even killed him."
"I see. Then we will have to think of some other
way to lure him over here."
Spock nodded and looked into his sensor
scanner.
"Uhura, call Commodore Favere at
Starbase 12 and advise him of our status.
Ask him to send as many starships as he can round
up. I don't want to deal with Omen alone."
"Aye, sir."
A few minutes later Uhura said,
"Captain, I have Commodore Favere. He
wishes to speak with you."
"On screen, Lieutenant."
When Favere's image came up, he said,
"How is Ms. Payton?"
Kirk had been so preoccupied with catching
Omen that he'd assumed Favere would want
to talk about Starfleet matters. But he decided
that Favere's question should not have surprised him.
Kirk had been in love more than once, and he
knew how the feeling could consume a person. He
wondered, then, how honest he could be without
unnecessarily frightening Favere. He decided
that Favere would not thank him for watering down the
news. "She's in sickbay. She had a rough
time, but our Dr. McCoy says that all she
needs is rest."
"What happened?"
"That's a very long story, Commodore. I'm
sure Ms. Payton will want to regale you with it
herself. Meanwhile, we need those ships."
Favere's jaw tightened, and his lips worked in
and out. Kirk knew he wanted to know every detail
of Payton's adventure.
Kirk said, "Trust me, Commodore, she's
fine."
Favere apparently made a decision. He
nodded and said, "The nearest ships will take some
days to arrive at your present position. I
gather you will not be there for long?"
If Kirk admitted the Enterprise was
hunting for Professor Omen, he would have a lot
of explaining to do, and Kirk didn't feel like
explaining at the moment. He didn't have the time.
He said, "We know the source of the
starship disappearances, and we are going to stop it."
"You sound certain."
"I am."
"I see. Well, good hunting. And bring
Ms. Payton back to me."
"That will be my pleasure."
Kirk's final statement was not entirely the
truth. He continued to wonder what might have
happened between himself and Payton if Favere had not
been around. It was an idle speculation, and in some
ways more romantic than the reality, because Kirk
knew that the relationship would never be tested.

A few minutes later McCoy brought
Payton onto the bridge. She was pale and
hollow-eyed and frequently put her hand out for
support, on the railing, on a chair, on
McCoy. She looked and acted like a woman who
had been through a long illness but was perhaps on the mend
at last. She said that she was feeling better but
did not wish to look into an Aleph ever again. With the
air of someone changing the subject Payton
asked Kirk, "How is Spock?"
"Stubborn, as usual," McCoy said. "If
he doesn't get some rest soon, he's going
to fall over in his traces."
Spock looked up from his viewer and, ignoring
McCoy entirely, said, "I have Erehwon's
present position, course, and speed."
"How long to reach it?" Kirk asked.
"At warp six we will arrive in eight hours,
twenty minutes, forty-seven seconds."
"Will that give you enough time to modify our
deflectors and phasers?"
"With the help of Mr. Scott and his staff, I
believe so. The modifications are relatively
simple, involving as they do the mathematics of
only one universe."
"Very good," Kirk said. "Mr. Sulu, get
your navigational data from Mr. Spock and
engage warp engines immediately. Warp six."
"Aye, sir."
Kirk saw that Spock had not yet left the
bridge. Spock claimed that he had succeeded in
suppressing all his emotions, but still he had a
body language--the hands behind his back, the
height of his eyebrows, a thousand things Kirk had
not consciously cataloged--t told him that
Spock had more to say. Kirk said, "Something
keeping you from engineering, Spock?"
"Yes, Captain. I believe you have another
decision to make."
Kirk had no idea what that might be. It
seemed to him that until they caught up with Omen the
situation was covered. He said, "Decision-making
is my job. What did I miss?"
Spock stepped down and stood at Kirk's
right hand. "The Aleph. A ship that goes through an
Aleph pulls it into the universe where the ship
finds itself. That is why we haven't found an
Aleph at every point where a ship disappeared."
"Understood, Spock. But that seems to be a
purely technical matter."
"As you say, Captain. But the fact means that
on our return we pulled an Aleph into this
universe."
McCoy said, "Is there a point here,
Spock, besides at the tip of each of your ears?"
Suddenly Kirk saw the end of Spock's
line of reasoning, and it dismayed him. He said,
"The Aleph is not just a weapon, Bones. It
is also the ultimate spy apparatus. Whoever
has one can, with the proper equipment and training,
see anything."
"Indeed," said Spock. "However, the argument
does have another side. The Aleph is an
extraordinary topological construction
representing a unique scientific achievement.
It deserves study not by one person, or even
by two, but by a team of scientists and
mathematicians."
"Forget science for a moment, Spock,"
McCoy said. "Think of how your life would
change if Starfleet could look over your shoulder
any time without your knowing it."
"I have nothing to hide, Doctor."
McCoy leaned across Kirk and said, "Come
now, Spock. We all have our little secrets.
Vulcan secrets. Emotional secrets.
Hmm?"
Spock considered that for a moment and then said, "I
find your argument oddly compelling, Doctor."
Kirk said, "Are we talking about the Aleph
out there? I thought you said it was unstable."
"So it seems from the mathematics, and I thought
it best to move quickly lest I be correct. But
no one can instantly grasp all the
peculiarities of an object such as an
Aleph. Frankly, I did not expect the
Aleph to remain intact as long as it
has. My question remains--d we destroy it or
not?"
"What about Professor Omen's machine?"
McCoy asked.
Payton asked, "What about Professor
Omen himself? He could be looking in on us right now.
After all, he has unlimited access
to Alephs."
"Unlimited access, yes," said McCoy,
"but he is a single-minded man. My guess is
that as far as he's concerned, the Aleph is just a
weapon."
"Dr. McCoy's suspicion would help
explain why he was not here to meet us when we
returned to this universe."
Kirk asked, "Can we destroy Omen's
machine, Spock?"
Spock waited a moment, and then he chose his
^ws carefully. He said, "It can be easily,
uh, adjusted."
Kirk saw that he had a big decision
to make, not only for the Enterprise, but for the
Federation and perhaps for the entire galaxy. Once
Professor Omen's Aleph technology
became known, the secret of making Alephs would
undoubtedly spread, and soon privacy would be a
thing of the past. The Federation generally kept out of the
private lives of its citizens, but how long
could those in power withstand the temptation of taking just one
peek? And would not one peek lead to a second?
And would the Klingons and the Romulans bother
to ask such ethical questions? Would the Federation's own
criminal element?
Once introduced into the body of Federation
science, Kirk didn't think the Aleph could be
withdrawn. If they destroyed this Aleph and
"adjusted" the professor's machine, the
universe would continue much as it did presently.
Kirk said, "Just because we can do something
doesn't mean that we should do it."
"Agreed, Captain," Spock said. "But
modifying the phasers will take several hours. Do
you wish to give up that time to destroying this
Aleph?"
"You can't do it long distance?" Kirk asked.
"No, sir. We must be in range of the
phasers."
"Of course." Which was more important, catching
up with Omen before he sent another starship to its
death, or destroying this one Aleph which
might soon expire on its own? Kirk said,
"We'll postpone that decision for now. Uhura,
drop a marker buoy within a thousand kilometers
of the Aleph. Have it broadcast a wide-band
signal warning away all ships."
"Aye, sir."
"Get down to engineering, Spock."

There were eight hours and change during which not much
would be happening on the bridge. Kirk went
to his cabin for a nap, and he fell asleep
wondering what he would do with Omen when the
Enterprise caught up with him. If beaming him
aboard the Enterprise was out of the question, Kirk could
see only one other alternative. He hoped it
was clever enough.
He awoke and went over the plan in his mind.
He ran through it again in the shower, and then went to the
rec room on Deck 6, where he ordered the
replicator to make him a roast beef sandwich,
salad, and coffee. He turned around with his tray
in his hands and saw Payton sitting by herself at the
end of a table. She was taking slow sips from a
steaming cup. He walked over to her and asked if
he could sit down.
She smiled at him drowsily and said, "Of
course."
Kirk sat down and began to gnaw on the ragged
edges of beef around the outside of the bread. They
ate in companionable silence for a while, and then
Kirk said, "One of the few things that Spock and
McCoy agree on is that if you hadn't been
here, the Enterprise would have been stuck forever in that
empty pocket-universe."
"That's nice of them, but I think they give me
too much credit."
"I don't think so. Our sensors were shot.
The only effective method we had for looking
into the Aleph was through your implant."
"Credit the implant then."
"And credit your cooperation," Kirk said.
She smiled. "And my cooperation. From Hazel
Payton, the woman who gets the job done."
"Thank goodness," Kirk said. He liked this
woman a lot, and he could not help wondering again
what might have happened if Favere had not been in
the picture. He said, "Not many have studied the
Aleph."
"No. We have that in common." The thought that they
had things in common momentarily saddened
Payton. Without looking at Kirk, she said,
"I don't remember much of what I saw. More
of it fades all the time."
Kirk realized that she was right. The whole
Aleph experience seemed more and more like a dream.
He said, "I guess we have some surprises
left to us after all."
Payton nodded as she glanced around. Then she
peered at Kirk and said seriously, "But you and your
senior officers are much too modest. If they
hadn't known the capabilities of the Enterprise
so well, if they hadn't been so creative and
highly skilled, we'd still be in the pocket
universe, implant or not."
"I thought Starfleet was interested only in war
and conquest." Kirk opened his sandwich and began
to pick out shreds of meat and put them in his mouth.
"I guess," said Payton, "we both
learned something on this voyage."
"Another Enterprise miracle," Kirk
said, chuckling. He felt extraordinarily good.
Whatever happened, it was a pleasure to be sitting
there with Payton. The fact that he was delivering
her to another man did not change that.
"Not just a miracle," Payton said. "I
found out that Enterprise has an ethical man in
command."
Kirk was gratified, of course, but also
surprised Payton had thought to tell him this.
"How do you figure that?"
"I've had a chance to watch you with your crew.
These people like you and respect you. That sort of balance
is not easy to achieve. And then there's the matter
of the Klingee Association." She grinned at him.
"Oh?"
"Yes. You could have blown them away with that first
phaser blast, but you chose not to. You chose
to talk your way out of the situation."
"They had the cyclor."
"You didn't know that till they hit you with it."
"I guess not."
Kirk picked at his sandwich, and Payton
drank her tea. Crew members moved around them
but kept their distance. Soon Kirk would have
to return to the bridge and face Omen. Defeating
him would be a challenge, but he welcomed it.
That's why he'd joined Starfleet, why he was out
there he liked to test himself against challenges that no
one had met before.
When he was done eating Kirk left
Payton, still nursing that same cup of tea, and
went down to engineering. "How's it coming?" he
asked.
"Our work is nearly completed," said Spock.
"Aye," said Scott. "What a patchwork
you've made of my poor ship." He shook his
head.
"It's for a good cause, Mr. Scott,"
Kirk assured him. "You're sure Omen's
augmented tractor beam will not be able to get a
grip on our deflectors?"
"That is our goal, Captain."
"And our phasers will be able to destroy
Alephs?"
"So it would seem."
Damn Spock. Sometimes he could be so
noncommittal, his answers were less informative
than no answers at all. Brusquely Kirk
asked, "You've tested them?"
"As far as possible."
"Aye," said Scott. "Only computer
simulations, but fairly reliable for all that."
Kirk nodded and said, "According to Spock,
attempting to beam Omen over here would be
dangerous."
"Not to us," Scott said. The thought that the
attempt might be dangerous to Omen did not
seem to bother him.
"I'll need tractor beams to haul
Erehwon back to Starbase 12."
"Aye, we can do it," said Scott. "But we
might have better luck if we used an augmented
tractor beam of our own."
"Can we do that?" Kirk asked.
Spock said, "Omen's tractor beam is
based on the same technical innovation that
produced his new deflectors. The beam is
phased, switching on and off thousands of times every
nanosecond. It is, in fact, this phasing that will
allow us to escape his grip."
"I can have an augmented tractor beam on line
in a few minutes," Scotty assured Kirk.
"And have Omen slip away from us as easily as
we can slip away from him? I don't think so.
Give Enterprise's normal tractor beam
maximum power. If that doesn't work, we'll
try something else."
For a moment Spock and Scott considered
Kirk's idea. Scott said, "Aye. Sometimes
it's smarter to fight fire with water than
with fire."
Spock said, "I would not have explained my
position in such a colorful manner, Mr.
Scott, but essentially you state the case
correctly."
The bosun's whistle came on the air, and
Uhura called over the intercom, "Bridge
to Captain Kirk."
Kirk punched the intercom switch and asked
what was wanted.
"We have Erehwon in sensor range."
"Thank you, Lieutenant. Mr. Spock and
I will be right up." Kirk turned to Scott and
said, "I'll want those phasers and tractor
beams on demand."
"You'll have them, sir."
On the turbolift Kirk had some time
to consider the challenge that awaited him when he
reached the bridge. He was up against a genius
equipped with weapons a full step ahead of any
aboard the Enterprise. Weapons on the
Enterprise were jury-rigged to make up the
difference, but Scotty's comment about a patchwork was
more accurate than Kirk liked.
When Kirk and Spock arrived on the bridge
Uhura said, "We're being hailed by Erehwon,
Captain. Evidently Omen saw us at about the
same time we saw him."
With a sigh Kirk settled into his command chair
and allowed himself a moment to contemplate the stars on
the screen. It was a big universe, and
evidently an infinite number of universes
resembled it to some degree. In how many of them was
a starship like his about to meet an asteroid like
Erehwon? In how many of them would the starship
triumph? Kirk said, "On screen,
Lieutenant."
The face of Omen appeared on screen. He
made such a pretense of not being impressed by what
anybody else did, Kirk found gauging his
attitude difficult. Still, there were indicators
Omen's jaw was set, and a muscle ticked below his
right eye. Kirk said, "Surprised to see us,
Professor?"
"How did you do it, Captain? How did you
escape from the Aleph?" He had all the
attributes of a thirsty man demanding to know the
location of water.
Behind Kirk Spock spoke in low tones.
"Erehwon approaching, sir.
Estimated time of arrival three minutes,
forty-two seconds."
"Shields, Mr. Chekov."
"Aye, Captain."
Apparently Kirk's trap was working. "You're
not the only one who can do impossible things before
breakfast," Kirk said. "I'm sure Mr.
Spock and Mr. Scott would be pleased to show you
the mathematics."
"Bother the mathematics," Omen said. "How
did you find your way back here?"
"It's not a secret. Return with us
to Starbase 12, and we'll tell you everything."
Every part of Omen's face moved independently.
With an act of great will Omen got himself under
control. Still, curiosity worked strongly in him.
His need to know what had happened must have been almost
physical in its intensity.
The ship shook, and its hull rang as if a
god had struck it with a hammer.
"View forward," Kirk said.
Omen was replaced by stars, now stationary. A
light grew among them--.Erehwon.
Spock said, "Erehwon's augmented
tractor beam is holding the Enterprise,
Captain."
"Mr. Sulu, reverse one quarter
impulse."
"One quarter impulse, aye."
The impulse engines strained.
"We're moving, sir," Chekov said.
"That should irritate him," Kirk said to himself.
More loudly, he said, "All stop, Mr.
Sulu. Mr. Spock, prepare tractor
beam."
Immediately Spock said, "Ready, sir."
"Ta ke Erehwon in tow and proceed at one
half impulse."
The impulse engines began to grind again.
Chekov said, "Captain, we're not moving."
"Spock?" Kirk demanded.
"We are securely joined, Captain. But
I believe that Omen has once again employed his
hyper-anchor."
"Give me a channel," Kirk said.
"Open, sir."
"Omen, this won't do you any good. Most of
Starfleet will be here soon. You can't make
Alephs fast enough to trap us all." Would "soon"
be soon enough? Kirk wondered.
Favere had said it would be days before the first ships
arrived. Could he and Omen keep each other at
bay for days?
"Captain," Spock called. "Sensors
picking up a ship--closing fast."
Kirk whirled in his chair. "Already? Favere
said--"
"Not Federation, sir," Spock said.
"Klingon."
Real Klingons, Kirk knew. Klingons who
would not be impressed by a simple trick like the one
that had routed the Klingees.

Chapter Fourteen

Enterprise and Erehwon were locked together with
their hands at each other's throats. On the main
screen, near Erehwon, the Klingon ship
waited like a vulture, ready to pick the bones
of the loser. Kirk could not decide whether the
distraction of the Klingons' arrival benefited him,
Omen, or neither.
"We're being hailed by the Klingon vessel,
sir."
"On screen, Lieutenant."
"A moment, Captain," Spock said.
"Maintaining a hold on Erehwon is putting
considerable stress on the ship. Power levels are
down ten percent and dropping. Our tractor beam
was not designed for this kind of use."
Kirk did not like mistreating his ship this way,
but if he let Erehwon go, it would destroy more
ships before anyone could find it again. If they could
find it again. Omen was a clever man. He would
adapt. "Hang on, Spock, and please
advise Mr. Scott to do the same. Uhura,
put the Klingons on screen."
The disheartening tableau of Erehwon and the
Klingon ship was replaced by the face of an
angry Klingon. Even if he hadn't known what
universe he was in, Kirk would have been certain
that this was no Klingee.
"Torm," Kirk said with surprise. This was the
same Klingon who'd accused him of disintegrating
the Empire's ships. After all they'd been through,
what a joke that seemed.
Torm sneered when he said, "Now I know why
my science officer could not identify the energy
fluctuations emanating from these coordinates.
We've found your secret Starfleet
weapon!"
How could Kirk convince the Klingon he was
wrong about the Aleph? Desperately Kirk
said, "Torm, wait. It's not a Federation
weapon." Kirk sounded ridiculous, even in his
own ears. Torm had no reason to believe him.
And yet what could Kirk do? Enterprise could not
join in a firefight with Kormak without letting
go of Erehwon. In which case Erehwon would
certainly escape while the Enterprise and the
Kormak were busy taking shots at each other,
thus making their fight pointless. If only the
Klingon would listen!
Torm looked ready to spit. He said, "I
expected you to claim as much."
"It's not a Starfleet weapon, but otherwise
you're right. This is the source of the disappearances.
We've found it, and the man running the operation is
under arrest." It would do no harm for Kirk to ad-
mit this. If he was half as bright as advertised,
Omen had already guessed what Kirk had in mind.
"Federation arrest. A lot of talk, then three
months of coddling. I will do your job for you,
Kirk. End transmission."
"Torm!" Kirk cried.
Seconds later the hot blue tongue of a
disrupter beam licked out from the Kormak and
swept the space around the Erehwon. The
disrupter beam wasn't able to touch the asteroid,
repelled as it was by Omen's new shields. The
shields glowed softly, hardly bothered by the
Klingon attack.
After a moment Torm stopped wasting energy.
Kirk was frustrated. He could join
Kormak in its attack on Erehwon. He
could attack the Kormak in an attempt
to save the Erehwon, though at the moment the
Erehwon didn't appear to need saving. Neither
of these plans appealed to Kirk.
Perhaps the best course of action was to do nothing at
all. Allow Kormak to attack Erehwon
until Torm became discouraged. At that point
it was likely Kormak would attack the
Enterprise. But that did not bother Kirk. He
knew how to fight Klingons. Payton might
get her battle footage after all.
Of course, to save the Enterprise Kirk
would have to allow the Erehwon to escape; but given
that kind of alternative, only one choice was
possible.
Suddenly a spinning diamond bloomed on the
side of the Erehwon and rushed toward Kormak.
It was an Aleph. Torm fired at it, to no
effect, and Kirk cried, "Fire phasers at
the Aleph now, Mr. Sulu."
Sulu was acting even as he said, "Aye,
sir."
The phaser touched the Aleph, and the Aleph
shattered, tearing itself apart like an unbalanced
wheel. The shards flew away, turning, showing
scenes, objects, people, eventually fading, the
shards smoothing themselves back into the fabric of the
universe.
"We're being hailed by the Kormak,"
Uhura said.
"What a surprise," Sulu said.
"On screen."
"What was that?" Torm demanded.
"That was an Aleph," Kirk said. "It is the
weapon you're looking for." Let Torm believe
the Aleph was a disintegrator of some kind.
Kirk saw no reason to explain what the
Aleph really did.
"We did not ask for your help. By saving us,"
Torm said, "you insult our reputation as
warriors."
The famous Klingon pride. You couldn't even
do them a favor without their taking offense. Kirk
shrugged and smiled in a way he hoped would show he
was trying to be reasonable. He opened his hands and
said, "Let's just say you owe us one."
Torm was about to give some retort when Kirk
added impulsively, "You might tell us about the
cyclor, for instance."
Torm's eyes opened wide, and his jaw
dropped. His skin darkened. Kirk had never seen
a Klingon look so surprised. "How did you
..."
The channel went dead, and they were looking at
Erehwon and Kormak again.
"What happened, Lieutenant?"
"Kormak ended transmission, sir."
Kirk chuckled and said, "If you can't convince
them, confuse them, eh, Spock?"
Spock said, "You would have confused them more had they
not heard of a cyclor."
The Klingee and the Klingons had their obvious
differences, but they seemed to have similar
technologies. If the Klingons did not have the
cyclor now, they would probably have it
soon. Kirk said, "It was a good bet."
Spock raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Uhura said, "Sir, the Kormak is sending
a coded subspace message."
"I don't have to know the code to guess Torm
is informing the Empire that we know about the
cyclor."
"Undoubtedly," Spock said.
"How's our tractor beam doing?"
"Holding, Captain. So far."
"That's all I ask. Hail Omen,
Lieutenant."
"Aye, sir." A moment later Uhura said,
"No answer, sir."
Was Omen sulking or preparing a surprise for
them? Omen was a genius, and it would not do
to underestimate him. Kirk said, "I'll assume
he's listening. I'd be listening if I were him.
Broadcast on the frequency we've been
using."
"Aye, sir."
Spock said, "The Klingons are certainly
listening, too."
"I'm counting on it."
Kirk raised his voice and said,
"Professor Omen, this is Captain Kirk.
I'd advise you to surrender. If Starfleet
doesn't get you, the Klingons certainly will, andwith
less concern for your welfare."
Kirk waited, and what he'd hoped for
happened. Torm entered the conversation growling. He
said, "Kirk is correct. Your shields are
effective, but we will discover their secret and
carve you like a people'tach!" He pronounced the
Klingon ^w as if he were clearing his throat.
Still nothing from Erehwon.
Kirk said, "Listen to me, Professor.
We have data on your new deflectors, on your
augmented tractor beam, and even on your
Aleph. You are not the only weapons expert in
the galaxy. Trust me You cannot keep a step
ahead of the Federation forever. Or of the Klingons. Not
forever. Not even you."
Still nothing from Erehwon. Omen was leaving
Kirk no choice. He would have to destroy the
asteroid if he could, though he did not want to.
Kirk knew that Omen had the right idea. Peace
was the way. But Kirk didn't think that peace could
be imposed by anyone, no matter the intentions, no
matter the level of technology. And
how long would peace stick, even if Omen
succeeded? Until one being wanted something another
being had. In the minds of many, sweet reason would
never replace a quick jab to the chops.
This pessimism disturbed Kirk. As a
military man his goal had always been to put himself
out of business. But a deep, realistic part of
himself didn't think this was possible, any more than it
was possible for McCoy to put himself out of
business, whatever McCoy's wishes.
"Can we hold him till the fleet gets
here?" Kirk asked, though he knew the answer.
"We can hold him for another two hours
fourteen minutes," Spock said. "After that,
maintaining hull integrity will be increasingly
difficult."
"Omen," Kirk cried. "Are you listening
to me? There are other ways to work for peace."
Suddenly Omen appeared on the screen. He
looked as if he hadn't slept in days, but more
than that, Kirk judged his soul to be weary, as
if he'd been fighting his own nature. That was the
basic weakness in ethical men Even when they were
certain they were right, they still doubted themselves. A bit
of them was never convinced. And that caused them to lose
sleep and appetite.
"I hear you, Captain," Omen said, "and I
believe you are correct. The galaxy is full
of weapo ns experts, and sooner or later they will
discover my secrets. You already have the new
deflectors, and perhaps the augmented tractor beam
as well. They are trifles compared to what I have
in mind. And it is my mind that you want. If you
take Erehwon intact, you will study the plans
and prototypes aboard. If you take me
alive, you will force me to make weapons of war
again."
Kirk wondered if that was true. Would the
Federation force him to build weapons? Kirk said,
"Professor, I--"
Omen went on as if Kirk had not spoken.
"I cannot allow either of these things to occur. For the
sake of my daughter. For the sake of all the children.
Good-bye, Captain. Perhaps we will meet again in
a better universe."
The screen returned to the scene outside. With a
sudden fearful knowledge of imminent disaster Kirk leapt
for Spock's control board and pressed one of the
keys. As if a tug-of-war rope had been
suddenly cut, Enterprise flew
backwards, away from the Aleph that now spun where
Erehwon had been. Everyone was thrown forward
while the inertial compensators tried to make up
for the sudden movement. When he looked up Kirk
saw that the Aleph was gone, too, sucked
into whatever universe Erehwon now inhabited.
"Impulse power to compensate," Kirk said.
"Aye," Sulu said as he applied braking
power.
"Hail the Kormak," Kirk said, though he
had no interest in speaking with the Klingons. He was
tired. He'd just provoked a good man to commit
suicide as surely as if Omen had had a
painful and fatal wasting disease and Kirk had been
the first to tell him about it. It was possible that Omen
had gone to a universe where he could live and perhaps
even be happy. But Kirk's universe would never
see him again. Omen was shut behind the wall of the
Aleph as surely as a dead person was shut behind
the impenetrable wall that separated life from death.
Torm appeared on the screen, a crafty
expression on his face. Kirk tried to imagine
what Torm must be thinking. He did not trust
Kirk or anyone of the Federation. Yet it must
seem to him that Kirk had just solved one of the
Empire's problems. Was it a trick? Had the
entire drama been played out strictly for the
Empire's benefit? Torm said, "What
happened?"
"You had a free home demonstration of the
weapon."
"This Earther, this Omen, as you call him,
destroyed himself to prevent us from capturing him?"
In its simplest form he supposed that Torm
was right, and Kirk admitted as much.
Torm nodded and said, "He was a worthy
adversary. But what of the weapon?"
"What of it?"
"You were able to destroy the spinning fireball.
Perhaps you are also able to make one."
Spock could probably make an Aleph
generator, but he would not. Not everything that could be
made should be made.
Kirk said, "The secret died with Omen."
"We shall see," Torm said. He was about to ask
something else, perhaps how Kirk knew about the
cyclor. Instead he saluted Kirk in the
Klingon manner and ended the transmission.
"Power configuration of Kormak is changing."
For a moment Kirk thought that Torm
meant to attack them, but the Klingon ship turned
and shot away. It was soon no more than a moving
star among stars, and then even that was gone.
"His course is for the Klingon Empire,
Captain."
"Good news at last," Kirk said. "Mr.
Chekov, set a course for Starbase 12."
Chekov consulted the astrogation display,
inputted his coordinates, and said, "Course
laid in. Twelve hours at warp four."
Kirk thought of Payton and Favere and said,
"Warp six, Mr. Sulu. Engage."

That evening after his watch, after dinner, Spock
went to his cabin--ffmeditate, he said. Kirk
hoped it would be as satisfying to him as a
well-deserved nap would be to a human. Kirk
had eaten with him, but conversation had been sparse.
Sometimes it was like that after a mission. Everything had
been said, and they would not think of new things to say
till time insulated them from their most recent
trials.
Kirk went to the observation lounge on Deck
10 of the ship's dorsal. He looked out at the
rainbow smudges that passed for stars in warp
space. The smudges closed behind them, as if
Enterprise were a burrowing animal, grabbing the
medium of warp space in front and flinging it
back to fill behind. Kirk knew this was all
romance, of course. The mathematics of the warp
drive mentioned no burrowing, no flinging. And yet
the illusion was, in its way, very convincing and not
without its comfort. For when she was a billion
kilometers from anywhere the notion that the
Enterprise was an animal with some concern for her
symbiotic crew was as comforting as it was
ridiculous.
He became aware of the air blowers, andofthe
unusual mix of odors--plastic, metal,
cleaning compounds, fabric, alien bodies,
cooled and recycled air--t made a starship
smell the way it did.
For many hours he'd been thinking about Omen and his
weapons of peace. He'd learned that
second-guessing himself was always a frustrating
business, even after he reminded himself that being a
starship captain should be a learning experience. This
time Kirk could see nothing that he'd done wrong,
nothing that he would have done differently, nothing that would
have ended in saving Omen. Everything had
seemed like a good idea at the time. That was all he
could ask of himself. All anyone could ask.
As was sometimes the case, the safety of the ship
had come down to depending on the swift action of one
man. It was not always so, but in this case it was the
action of the captain that had counted. His job was
to throw one switch, to disconnect the tractor beam
and thereby prevent the ship from being sucked with
Erehwon into the Aleph.
Kirk let his mind run free. War, peace,
and Erehwon circled like fish in the aquarium of
his head.
"Excuse me, Captain," McCoy said.
Kirk turned and saw him and Payton standing
at the door to the lounge, uncertain whether they should
enter.
"Come in, Bones, Ms. Payton. I've
been alone with my own thoughts long enough."
McCoy said, "And Spock?"
"Meditating."
"Ah," said McCoy, as if that one ^w
explained everything.
"How are you feeling, Ms. Payton?"
Kirk asked.
"Much better, thank you, though I can't seem
to convince the doctor of that." She smiled as she
spoke, taking the sting out of the ^ws.
"Oh, I'm convinced," McCoy said. "But
where is it written that a doctor can't take an
af-dinner stroll with his patient?"
They watched the rainbow smudges for a long time.
Then Payton said, "I'm really sorry,
Captain. I feel as if I committed treason
or something."
"Treason?" asked Kirk. It was a new
idea.
"Yes. Mr. Kent and I were colluding with the
man who was destroying ships. Because of us, the
Enterprise almost vanished forever."
McCoy was about to say something, but instead he
waited and looked expectantly at Kirk.
Payton's question made Kirk uneasy. He
liked her and had even succeeded in convincing himself that
Conrad Franklin Kent was wrong but sincere.
Treason against the Federation was a crime so heinous
he could barely comprehend that someone he liked would
consider herself capable of it. He said, "I don't
think so."
Kirk's statement opened the floodgates of
McCoy's impassioned opinion. "Of
course not, my dear," he said. He went on
to argue that neither Payton nor Kent had known
exactly what Omen had in mind when he offered
to prove that Starfleet was more interested in war than
in exploration--Omen had admitted that himself--and
therefore neither of them could be held accountable. He
went on, piling argument on top of argument, as
if Payton herself were a judge who had to be
convinced.
At the start of McCoy's speech Payton
seemed mystified, but as he went on she brightened
up, and by the end of it she was laughing at
McCoy's overwhelming enthusiasm and increasingly
outrageous hyperbole. At last she was pleased
to agree that McCoy was right.
"I told you I didn't think so," Kirk
said, and they all shared a laugh. A moment later
he said, "Now I have a question for you."
Payton made an interrogative noise.
"You originally came on board to write a
report for Conrad Franklin Kent. Is that still
your intention?"
Very seriously Payton said, "Yes, it is."
"I see." Kirk looked at the floor. As
far as he could tell, very little had happened on this
voyage that Kent could use as ammunition in his
crusade against Starfleet. But he also had enough
experience with diplomacy to know that facts could be
manipulated. In this respect he imagined that
politics and show business were not much different--f
each other or from diplomacy. If Kent wanted
to knock Starfleet, he would do it with the materials
at hand, no matter what they were.
Payton said, "I am, after all, a woman
who gets the job done."
Kirk and McCoy nodded.
"It's just too bad that Mr. Kent will
certainly not approve of my report."
They looked at her with surprise. "He'll
fire you," McCoy said.
"Maybe. But I've known Mr. Kent for a
few years, and I think that something else will
actually happen. I think he'll read my
report, see the error of his ways, and change his
mind about Starfleet."
As much as Kirk liked Payton--or maybe
because he liked her so much--he was able to see the
other side, her side. For this reason also he was
still not convinced that she would put together a positive
report from her implant recordings.
Self-preservation might become a higher
priority than saving Starfleet, and if it did,
he could not fault her. Why be loyal
to Starfleet, just another branch of government, a
branch that should be sawed a way if it was rotten?
And he was even less confident about Kent's
flexibility.
Kirk said, "That would be a pleasant
surprise."
McCoy said, "If he does change his
mind, I might even support him."
Kirk grunted. He did not care to comment on
McCoy's statement. Who a man supported for
president was a citizen's private business.
But, Kirk thought, there was such a thing as going too
far to make a point.

Chapter Fifteen

As Enterprise approached Starbase 12
messages flashed between them. Some came from
Commodore Favere and were official. After asking
whether the mission had been a success Favere
asked about the safety of crew and passengers.
Kirk knew Favere's question was a thinly veiled
plea to know if Hazel Payton was all right, and
Kirk obliged him by reporting that she was.
When Favere asked about Omen Kirk
hesitated for a moment before he said, "He is no
longer with us."
"You mean he's dead?" Favere asked,
astonished.
"Not dead," said Kirk. He did not want
to be evasive, yet he felt the fact of
Omen's final destination was less important
than the understanding of the incidents that had forced Omen
to take such drastic action. Any answer,
Kirk knew, was bound to be incomplete and
unsatisfying and would only lead to more questions. Kirk
said, "Commodore, you can do us both a favor and
wait for my official report."
"If you wish," Favere said a little stiffly.
Other messages were from Conrad Franklin
Kent and, though not official, asked many of the same
questions. Kirk was less inclined to answer them. He
did say, "I think you'll find Ms.
Payton's report to be unlike anything you had
in mind."
Kent chuckled down in his warm inside
cupboards and said, "I think you're
wrong, Captain. Ms. Payton is not a
likely candidate for brainwashing."
"Mr. Kent, I assure you that brainwashing was
never an option."
"Let me speak with her."
"You can talk to her all you want on Starbase
12." In Kirk's mind his present conversation was
haunted by the ghost of an earlier conversation in which
Kent had refused to answer questions, saying only that
Professor Omen would tell Kirk everything he
wanted to know. Turnabout was fair play, as far as
Kirk was concerned.
When he found that Kirk would not part with any more
information Kent angrily broke the connection. This
gave Kirk a certain amount of satisfaction,
for which he could not bring himself to feel guilty.
As Enterprise navigated close
to Starbase 12 Spock pointed out the sorry
condition of the class-J freighter that had been the
object of the deflector test.
"Are you sure that's the same freighter?"
Kirk asked with surprise. It seemed
unlikely. When last seen the freighter had been
dented from its years of service, but undamaged
by everything Enterprise could throw at her. The
freighter they were passing looked as if she had
encountered a cloud of acid. Large jagged holes
yearned toward one another as if the hull were made
of paper and had been touched here and there with a lighted
match. Most of the tail section was gone, leaving
only the framework of the vertical stabilizer, a
basket in which to catch nothing. Deep in the hulk
short-circuits occasionally sparked, briefly
lighting corridors and machinery, casting shadows that
took little imagination to make into massive and
ill-proportioned monsters.
"I remember the serial number clearly,
Captain," Spock said.
"I'm sure you do, Mr. Spock. But if
that's the case, what happened?"
"What indeed?"
A few minutes later Kirk, Spock, and
McCoy stood in the transporter room waiting
for Ms. Payton. Spock was idly watching
Mr. Kyle check settings on the transporter
control board. McCoy had assured Kirk that
Payton could do nothing but write a favorable
report and now was going on about his intentions toward
a buffalo steak smothered in mushrooms and onions.
"Why can't Scotty program our
replicators for that kind of food?"
"I'll speak to him about it," Kirk said. He
was in total agreement about the steak, but other,
less certain matters crowded his mind. The
condition of the freighter was only one of the things
Kirk was considering.
He was not worried, precisely, but he could not
help wondering what Payton had finally written
in her report; she had refused even to discuss the
matter except to say that she was working on it.
Kirk felt McCoy was something of a romantic
in his view that Payton was certain to write a
favorable report.
Admiral Nogura would certainly not be
pleased that Kirk was responsible for the virtual
suicide of one of the Federation's leading
scientists. Nogura could be made to understand, of
course. He was not an unreasonable man. After
he understood, Nogura would probably give the
crew of the Enterprise medals. But Kirk did
not look forward to the intensive examination that was
sure to come before understanding occurred.
The doors slid open, and Payton entered
carrying a small gray duffel bag from one
shoulder. And something was missing from her hair--the
implant. If Payton felt recording
everything was no longer necessary, then the mission really was
over.
Mostly for Payton's benefit, Kirk
asked, "Everybody ready?"
Nods all around. They climbed onto the
transporter stage, and Mr. Kyle energized.
The transporter room broke up like a bad
signal, to be replaced by the transporter room
of Starbase 12. They might still have been aboard
the Enterprise but for the Amerind ceremonial
drums on the back wall, the absence of Mr.
Kyle, and the presence of Mr. Kent and
Commodore Favere.
Kirk nodded at Kent and said it was good to see
Favere again. He handed Favere the gold wafer
on which a copy of the ship's log was recorded and
said, "I think this will answer all your questions. If
it doesn't, you might try reading the report
Ms. Payton has prepared." He could not
prevent an edge of sarcasm from sharpening his
voice.
"I will keep that in mind."
Favere watched with hungry anticipation while
Payton greeted Kent and handed him the
blue wafer that held her report. She said,
"I think you'll find it interesting."
Kent nodded and smiled. He did not wink
knowingly, which disappointed Kirk a little. It seemed
to him to be a lost opportunity. Kent said, "I
hope this explains what happened to Professor
Omen."
"It does," Payton said.
She went to Favere and took both his hands. The
public familiarity seemed to astonish him, but
happily so. The formal manner in which he
proceeded to welcome her to Starbase 12 made
McCoy smile. Kirk smiled, too,
despite his feeling a little jealousy at
Favere's good fortune. Timing, Kirk decided
again, was everything. Kent frowned but said nothing.
Spock merely seemed content to watch the scene
play itself out.
Payton said, "I want to make this
announcement in front of the people who are closest
to me."
Payton shocked Kirk. He tried
to remember if he'd ever heard her speak of
family on Earth or anywhere else in the
Federation. He couldn't remember one way or the
other.
She looked Favere in the eye and went on as
if no one else was there, "Before we went out on this
mission you asked me to marry you. I had some
problems with that and gave you an evasive answer.
But in the last week or so I had occasion, more
than once to believe I would never see you again,
and the thought hurt me so much I could barely stand it.
I learned my lesson. So if you're still
interested, I am saying "yes."'"
For a moment Favere appeared to be too
astonished to reply. He stared at Payton
wide-eyed andwith his chin a little slack, then nodded as
he slowly regained control. Offhandedly he said,
"I guess you could say I'm still interested," and
he grinned.
The tension was broken. Kirk, feeling very noble
indeed, congratulated Favere and Payton.
Kent forced himself to shake hands with Favere and
managed to croak out a "Congratulations" in
Payton's direction. McCoy insisted on
kissing the bride, though he claimed the right to do it
again at the wedding.
Kent said, "If you'll excuse me, I have a
report to read." He rushed from the
transporter room as if he were about to explode
and did not want to do it there.
"Well," said Kirk, "I'm sure that Ms.
Payton and the commodore have a lot to discuss."
Spock said, "Indeed. Commodore Favere will
also want to read the ship's log."
"Of course," said Kirk. After living all
these years among humans, Spock still missed some
of the nuances. Or perhaps he only enjoyed playing
the somber Vulcan even as McCoy enjoyed
twitting him for it.
Kirk flipped open his communicator and told
Uhura to start shore leave rotation. He was
pleased to be giving his crew some time off at last.
Hell, he was pleased to be getting it himself.
Lacking another emergency call, Enterprise
would be at Starbase 12 for at least a week.
Favere said, "Mr. Spock is right. Duty
comes first. We'll meet again with Mr. Kent in a
few hours. I'm sure he'll have some comments
to make."
"I love Starfleet," Payton said, and she
punched Favere gently in the shoulder.
"Thank you, Commodore," Kirk said. He
turned to Spock and McCoy. "Who's for
Enyart's?"

Kirk, Spock, and McCoy settled in a
dim alcove of the Starbase 12 Enyart's.
Kirk ordered English beer, McCoy had a
champagne cocktail (to celebrate surviving
yet another trip on the transporter, he
said), and Spock had tea. It was not Vulcan
tea, but, with his customary stoicism, he made
do. Shortly Kirk and McCoy were enjoying
buffalo steaks smothered in mushrooms and onions.
In the spirit of the occasion Spock agreed to have
mushrooms and onions , but only mushrooms and
onions.
Conversation centered around what Payton's
report might say and how Kent might react
to it. At first Spock refused to be drawn in,
protesting that he didn't have enough data to make a
determination. But McCoy goaded him a little, and
at last Spock admitted that experience with his mother
assured him he had no idea what an Earth
woman might do in a given situation.
McCoy threw an arm across Spock's
shoulder and said, "My pointy-eared friend, you are not
alone."
A moment later McCoy asked, "What about
your log, Jim?"
"What about it?" Kirk answered a little
defensively. He knew what McCoy had in
mind and had been thinking about it himself.
"Do you present Payton and Kent as
traitors or not?"
"I present the facts, Bones. As always."
Spock said, "And yet the doctor poses an
interesting question. Mr. Kent forced you to take Ms.
Payton on board for a purpose other than the
one stated."
Kirk's arguments were ready. He'd thought about
them while preparing his logs for Commodore
Favere. He said, "Ms. Payton never
prevented us from searching for the weapon. It was the
arrival of Erehwon that temporarily
sidetracked us. And if we are to believe Ms.
Payton, neither she nor Mr. Kent knew about
the Aleph before we did. As far as they were
concerned, Omen was just going to help them with their
anti-Starfleet campaign."
Spock folded his arms and said, "I might
add that if Ms. Payton and her implant had
not been aboard, we would still be in the empty
universe."
"I'm with you two," McCoy said
expansively. "All Payton and Kent are
guilty of is a little bad judgment. It's something
we're all guilty of from time to time."
"True, Doctor," said Spock. "It is
a common human failing."
"Vulcans never make bad decisions?"
McCoy asked.
"They never make illogical decisions.
Logic saves Vulcans from the worst of
judgmental errors."
The conversation continued, with first McCoy and then
Spock taking the upper hand. Kirk only half
listened. He was thinking about Payton's report
and the meeting to come.
Presently, in the way of such things, all they
had before them were dirty plates. Coffee came for
Kirk and McCoy. Spock had more tea. Around
them crew members of the Enterprise ate and
drank with their friends. Kirk and the others returned
nods and greetings when they were offered.
At the sound of the bosun's whistle the noise
level momentarily dropped to a muffled drone,
and a voice said, "Captain Kirk and
party are invited to the commodore's office at their
earliest convenience. Repeating ..."
While the voice repeated the message Kirk
said, "Here we go."
On their way to Commodore Favere's office
Kirk reflected that this would probably be a
dress rehearsal for the meeting he was sure to have with
Nogura. As such, he would take full
advantage of it.

They were shown into Favere's office to find
Payton and Kent already there. Payton and
Favere tried not to be engrossed in each other, but
they could not help sharing small smiles; their
pleasure in being together was almost palpable. When not
distracted by Payton Favere pushed around a
small brass bullet on his desk. Kent's
expression was neutral, unreadable. He
knocked the blue wafer against one crossed
ankle.
"Please sit down, Kirk," Favere said.
Kirk settled into the remaining empty chair.
Spock and McCoy stood at their customary
positions on either side. Before the main event
began Kirk took the initiative and asked a
question to which he wanted an answer. He cleared his
throat.
"Yes, Kirk?"
"On the way in we passed the test freighter.
What happened to it?"
"That's right," Favere said. "You left before we
got the bad news." He took the bullet up
in his fist as if to squeeze an answer out of it.
"Bad news?" Spock asked.
Favere explained, "Shortly after you left,
the freighter began to fall apart. I am told the
process is continuing even now." Responding
to Spock's raised eyebrow, Favere went on.
"While Omen's phased deflectors are
effective against phasers and photon torpedoes,
they also have an unpredicted side effect. The
field changes the crystalline structure of
metal, and the ship quickly disintegrates. Omen's
first assistant, Bahia Slocum, is working on
the problem, but"--Favere shrugged--?we were hoping
Professor Omen could find a remedy for us."
He dropped the bullet onto his desktop and
pursed his lips at it for a moment, giving everyone
a chance to consider Omen's sins and the fine mess those
sins had gotten him into.
"If I can be of any service--" Spock
began.
Favere said, "Thank you. I will inform Ms.
Slocum of your offer."
It was odd, Kirk decided, how Omen's
professional luck had turned. He had
perfected the phaser and the photon torpedo, but his
later work was not nearly so successful. The
deflectors didn't work because they caused the
ships they protected to fall apart. The augmented
tractor beam didn't work because its very nature
allowed its target to slip away. Only the
Aleph worked, and ultimately it was the only one
of his inventions that Omen needed to work. Perhaps it was
just as well that Omen had absented himself. His
recent failures would surely cause his
reputation to suffer, and Omen would not have liked that.
Despite science, despite logic, the
universe remained unpredictable even for such men
as Omen.
Even for the members of Starfleet. For a moment
Kirk was impressed and a little frightened by how
dangerous his job really was. The chill passed
like a cold gust of wind, and all that remained of the
feeling was the spice of danger, of new discovery,
of challenge, the things for which he'd gone into space.
With new confidence Kirk said, "Don't worry.
Those phased deflectors probably wouldn't stand
up against a cyclor anyway."
Kent frowned, and Favere appeared to be
uncomfortable. Favere said, "Mr. Kent informs
me that the Federation has known for some time that the
Klingons were developing a cyclor. But the
information is top secret."
Kirk shrugged. Lightly he said, "The
existence of the cyclor is not the only secret my
crew and I know, Commodore. I assume Mr.
Kent trusts Ms. Payton?"
"I do," Kent said.
"Then your secret is safe. Commodore,
you'll notice that my log has the most complete
sensor report of which Enterprise was capable at
the time of the cyclor attack. I suggest you turn
it over to Bahia Slocum. In the absence of
Professor Omen, she is the best person
to analyze it."
"She's working on the deflector problem at the
moment," Kent reminded him.
Kirk smiled and said, "It was only a
suggestion." For the moment he was in control
of the meeting. He asked the questions and had many of the
answers. He wondered if he'd only beaten
them to the punch, if either Kent or Favere would
eventually have gotten around to asking him about the
cyclor, or if they'd decided among themselves not
to mention it in the hope that Kirk would not realize
its importance and soon forget it. Their hope was
vain as far as Kirk was concerned.
With a loud click Kent set the blue wafer
on Favere's desk and said, "If Captain
Kirk is through asking questions, I'd like to talk about
Ms. Payton's report."
"I'm through," Kirk said. He steeled himself for
what was to come.
"Would you like to start, Commodore?"
"No, thank you, Mr. Kent. You go right
ahead."
Kirk shifted in his chair. This overly
polite passing him up and back made him
nervous and a little irritable. He felt like "x" in
a game of keep-away.
Kent harrumphed and cleared his throat. He
picked up the blue wafer again and held it
delicately between thumb and forefinger. When he had
everyone's attention he said, "I must admit that the
contents of this report came as a surprise
to me."
Kent was silent for a long time, but his comment did
not seem to merit a reply.
Kent went on. "And though I am not pleased,
I am moved by this amazing story. Miracles
indeed!" He smiled philosophically and shook
his head.
What was Kent getting to? Kirk wondered.
Kent contemplated Kirk for a moment and then
said, "I know what you think of me, Kirk. You
think I am a bombastic old fool who has
taken on Starfleet only to attract attention,
to get myself named president of the Federation
Council."
Kirk could not help smiling at the accuracy of
Kent's analysis.
"But," Kent went on, "you're wrong. It's
true that I am a politician, and I look
for the main chance. As a starship captain you can
certainly appreciate that."
"Certainly." They were just two men of the galaxy
agreeing on obvious principles of life that
eluded lesser folk.
"But though I am stubborn, I am not
stupid. When somebody shows me facts I weigh
them, and, if necessary, I change my mind." He
set the blue wafer on the desk and tapped it with
one finger. "This changes my mind."
"Meaning what?" McCoy asked
impatiently.
"Meaning first, that I regret my association with
Professor Omen. I knew nothing of his
attacks. Still, if in any way I encouraged
him to destroy the ships of any species, I
made a tragic error."
"You didn't know," Payton said. "Even
Omen admitted that."
"Oh, yes," Kent said, "One may make
excuses. If I had supported Omen in his
activities, I guarantee that I would have been
smarter than to send Hazel Payton out
to investigate." He chuckled and shook his head.
"And second?" Favere asked.
"Second," Kent said, "I am very
impressed by Captain Kirk's actions in this
matter. Swift thinking and best use of available
equipment allowed Enterprise to escape from the
pocket universe. You did no t destroy the
Klingee ship even when you thought your chances of doing
so were good. You offered Professor Omen a chance
to surrender and, according to Ms. Payton's report,
were genuinely upset when he chose not to accept your
offer. I admit it, Captain. I am
impressed."
Kirk was so surprised by Kent's speech, he
was not sure he'd heard right. He said, "Mr.
Kent, you overwhelm me."
"I'm sure I do, Captain." He turned
to Ms. Payton and said, "You know what this means,
don't you?"
Payton's grin had broadened during Mr.
Kent's speech. After all, she knew what was in
her report. Only her boss's reaction to it
had been in doubt. She said, "Don't make me
guess, sir."
"Very well. My dear, it appears that I've
been wrong about Starfleet. It is now obvious
to me that its members are not all boneheads and
warmongers. Many of them are intelligent
peacekeepers with the best interests of the Federation at
heart. Prominent among these sterling souls is
Commodore Favere. If you want to marry him,
you have my blessing."
Favere dropped the bullet. It
rolled to the edge of the desk and onto the floor, but
he did not move to pick it up. He was
transfixed.
Payton took Kent's hand in hers and said,
"Thank you, Conrad. I don't need your
approval, but it's nice to know I have it."
Kent took back his hand and waved a finger at
her. Gruffly, as if embarassed by his own
benevolence, he said, "But you can plan your wedding
later. At the moment, we have a more immediate problem."
"Of course," said Ms. Payton. "You can't
accuse Starfleet of warmongering any longer.
You'll need a new cause."
"I'm afraid our problem is more extensive
than that. Damage control is necessary."
"Your little joke on the Klingons," Kirk
said.
Kent looked at Kirk with amazement.
Kirk said, "The Klingons lodged a formal
protest with the Federation. Keeping that sort of thing
quiet is difficult. Admiral Nogura and
I discussed it."
"Yes. I'm afraid my thoughtless ^ws cost
me the presidency." He sighed.
"I'm sorry, Conrad," Payton said, and
she touched his hand.
"I brooded about it while you were gone, and I'm
starting to get used to the idea." Still frowning, he
stared at the floor. He looked at Payton and
said, "But I'm still a councilor, and that still counts
for something." He shrugged. "Maybe I can still do
some good."
"Of course you can still do good," McCoy said.
"Days ago I suggested an area that needs work."
Kent stared at McCoy and said, "You interest
me, strangely. What was this area?"
It delighted Kirk that Kent had either forgotten
what McCoy had said or had not listened to him in
the first place.
McCoy said, "I told you The methods the
Starfleet Medical Corps uses to approve
new drugs and medical techniques are over
twenty-five years old!"
"Important stuff," Payton said. "Noble
stuff."
"Indeed it is, Ms. Payton." Kent
stood and said, "Come, Dr. McCoy. Walk with
me."
"Captain?"
"Go ahead, Bones." As Kirk
watched Kent and McCoy leave together he
realized that Starfleet now had a powerful friend where
once it had a powerful enemy. Errors in
judgment could sometimes be corrected by someone willing
to admit he was wrong, even while those errors
prevented someone from becoming president. Kirk
could not make up his mind about Kent.
In any case, McCoy had been right about
Payton all along. Sometimes being a romantic
worked out.
Kirk stood and said, "Mr. Spock, I
believe the meeting is over."
"Unless the commodore has anything further
to discuss."
Favere was lost in Ms. Payton's eyes.
"Commodore?" Spock said.
Favere jumped as if he'd been awakened.
"No, Mr. Spock. We have nothing further
to discuss."
Still, Spock seemed reticent to leave.
Kirk was sure it seemed to him that many questions had
been dropped without being fully examined. But
unless someone insisted they return to business,
Payton and Favere were obviously content
to consider other things. There would be time for Mr.
Spock's questions, time, as some poet once said,
"to murder and create." Eventually any board of
inquiry would certainly be required to talk about
those things; after all, murder and creation had been
Omen's line of work.
Kirk said, "Come on, Spock. Let's go
mind the store."