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."

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