Crisis of Consciousness (12 page)

Spock sent,
“Ambassador. This is a test. If you are aware of this message, please indicate receipt in some overt way.”

Before Pippenge could react, Sciver was upon them.

“Why have you done it?” the Kenisian demanded, his cheeks flush green with anger. “Can we not trust you in even the smallest way?”

Pippenge sprang from his seat so fast that Sciver was startled. “Forgive us! We did not know it was wrong!”

Brows furrowed in confusion, the Kenisian looked at Pippenge as if he was mentally unbalanced. “Sit down. We are not addressing you.”

“I—oh.” The ambassador took his seat, still looking like a bundle of nerves, but at least quiet for now.

Sciver turned his attention only to Spock. “Explain your actions.”

“Which actions in particular?” Spock asked coyly.

“Toolkit thirty-three.”

Maintaining a rather blank look, Spock nodded, accepting that the topic was toolkit thirty-three despite being offered no context. “What of it?”

“You used it, but did not put it away,” Sciver explained, his complexion still blushed with pique. “That is unacceptable to us. Some of these instruments are powered. It is neither safe nor wise to leave them unattended.”

Bowing his head, Spock acted properly chastised. “You have my most sincere apology.”

After a single curt nod, Sciver turned away. Before Spock and Pippenge could even share a glance, however, the Kenisian twisted back.

“What were you using it for?”

“Pardon?”

“The toolkit,” Sciver pressed. “Why were you in need of it?”

Without hesitation, Spock presented an earnest façade. “Uncertain of the tools available to me, should the need to use them present itself, I thought I should familiarize myself with the lab as best I can.”

Sciver looked uncertain as to the honesty of that answer.

“Occasionally, knowing one’s options in advance can hasten solutions when problems present,” the Vulcan added.

Seeming satisfied, Sciver nodded and turned away a final time, leaving them relatively to themselves.

Glancing at Pippenge, Spock found the ambassador looking quite shocked. There were anecdotes that suggested Vulcans were incapable of lying, and the Maabas may have heard those tales.

Many had misinterpreted the Vulcan disdain for mendacity to mean that they would never speak falsely. Such a tenet, however, would be illogical on its face, as there were times when telling a fiction was the most moral act one might take. Knowing the widespread acceptance of this fable, Spock had bent the truth on a number of occasions.

Explaining this would be an interesting discussion to have with Ambassador Pippenge later. For now, Spock sent the following to the ambassador’s implant: “
We must amplify this signal in a method that will not be noticed.”

Spock had an inkling about how to achieve that, but with the opportunity would come great risk.

WHEN THE
ENTERPRISE
tilled uncharted space, there was an exhilaration to it that spoke to Kirk’s soul. It was contained excitement, always promising something new, something interesting just ahead.

Now, as they headed into the unknown, following a thin thread of plasma radiation that might, or might not, lead to Zhatan’s ship, the exhilaration had been replaced with anxiety.

It wasn’t merely that a Kenisian fleet might be waiting for them. There was no telling whose territory they were invading. There could be a hostile reaction to their pursuit, by one or more powers. It wasn’t the way the Federation liked to make first contacts.

The most frustrating part was that there was no way to know if they were on the right track. Events had moved so quickly that the path Chekov found could have been where the Kenisian came from as much as where she’d gone. If it wasn’t to the same location, and they were now tracking back to her point of origin, there would be little time to pick up her trail again.

The captain still wasn’t sure how he knew Zhatan’s task was so urgent, but he did.

Had Spock been present, he might have pointed out how illogical it was to trust such a feeling. Although, after some years serving together, the captain knew there was more to his Vulcan friend than just logic.

What if he’s dead?
Kirk wondered for a quick moment, then caught himself and scuttled the negative thought.

He looked down at his right hand and found it curled into a fist. Rather than releasing it, he brought it to his chin and bounced it there a few times.
Spock will find a way to communicate. He’ll find a way.

“Captain?”

Uhura’s voice drew Kirk from his darker thoughts.

“Yes?” Coiled with tension, the captain sprang toward her station, just as the lift doors opened and McCoy stepped onto the bridge.

“Jim?”

The captain waved him off and looked at Uhura.

“I have a signal on subspace four-oh-seven, sir,” she said.

“Jolma,” Kirk called to the ensign at the science station. “Track it.” Excitedly, he motioned to the speaker on Uhura’s console. “Let’s hear it.”

“Spock?” McCoy asked.

Ignoring the doctor, Kirk gestured to her speaker again.

She shook her head, one bright green earring waggling against her earpiece. “It’s character based and encoded, sir.”

He nodded. “Decode and translate to audio, Lieutenant.”

After Uhura flipped a series of switches, the computer read the message aloud:
“
Enterprise,
this is Spock, authentication Victor nine-six-five-six Eta Nu. Please respond in like code
.
”

McCoy grinned at Kirk, who quickly motioned to Uhura. “Respond.”

Having already configured the computer to translate the code and character, Uhura spoke, “
Enterprise
receives. Authentication Baker seven-three-one-two Omega.”

Throat dry with anticipation, Kirk bounced slightly on the balls of his feet.

McCoy smiled, but Kirk couldn’t. There were too many unknowns. Where was the message from? Was there a delayed send? Was Spock able to reply? Kirk trusted his first officer to overcome such scenarios, but until they heard back, the captain would worry.

Come on, Spock. Be there
.

The captain twisted toward Jolma, who was peering into the sensor cowl. “Ensign?”

“Not enough to go on, sir.”

Adjusting her earpiece, Uhura smiled. “Reply incoming, Captain.” She tapped at her board to put the message through.

“The ambassador and I were abducted to assist Kenisians in use of
na’hubis
weapon. Current location and course unknown
.”

“Uhura, send this: Continue contact as long as possible. Tracking signal to source. Report status.”

She sent the message.

They waited. Kirk looked from Jolma to Uhura for a sign that something had changed. The captain paced between the science and communication stations.

McCoy stood just beyond Uhura, leaning close into her station, chewing softly on his thumb.

“Was he caught?” the doctor asked.

Kirk shook his head. Perhaps the message merely came from farther away than they imagined? Tracking the signal would tell them distance soon enough—
if
they could get a lock on it.

Although the captain hadn’t envisioned the Maabas ambassador would be swept up, his plan was mostly working as he intended. Kirk thought
he
would be in Spock’s place, but considering the circumstances, this way was probably better. It didn’t mean that the captain liked it.

“Receiving,” Uhura called, and Kirk was instantly by her side.

“
Sending full report burst
.
”

“Well,” McCoy said, “he’s all business.”

That
, Kirk thought,
would be Spock
.

Uhura’s slender fingers swiftly worked at the controls. “Capturing report, sir.”

“Send this,” Kirk ordered. “How close are Kenisians to testing prototype weapon?” Doubtless that information was in Spock’s missive, but Kirk didn’t have the time to skim through it now.

As they waited for the response, Kirk stalked back over to Jolma at the science station.

“We are on the right course, Captain.”

“Location?” Kirk asked.

“Not yet, sir,” Jolma said.

“It’s in line with the course we’ve taken?”

“Yes, sir. Definitely.”

“Good,” McCoy said. “That’s good, right?”

The captain huffed out a semirelieved breath. “It isn’t bad, Bones.”

“Getting another message, sir.”

Kirk turned back to Uhura’s station.

“Kenisians will test weapon in battle against their ancient conquerors. Situation grave. Destruction could reach Beta Quadrant
.
”

“Beta Quadrant,” Kirk mouthed silently.

Uhura drew in a sharp breath, not quite a gasp, but she, too, was shocked.

“What the devil?” McCoy’s eyes met Kirk’s.

“Worse than we thought,” the captain said, more to himself than McCoy. He looked toward the main viewscreen, past the points of light which appeared to speed away and outward. In the abyss of black beyond the visible stars, trillions and trillions of life-forms lived.

One act might end them all. One insane act of rage.

That wasn’t really what Zhatan wanted, Kirk knew. Once again, he wasn’t sure
how
he discerned that, but he was certain of it.

Wasn’t he? Could that be a side effect of a Kenisian meld? Did he
feel
that he knew her and was that a weakness she’d passed to him purposely?

Kirk didn’t have any answers. He hoped that his willingness to ask meant that he wasn’t under any outside influence.

“Send to Spock.” Kirk turned back to Uhura and placed his hand on the back of her chair. “We are on intercept course—”

Jolma interrupted, “Sir, I haven’t pinpointed—”

The captain continued, silencing the ensign with a glare. “We are on an intercept course. Will need consistent contact to pursue from a distance. If we are unable to reach you in time, you must take sole action to keep the
na’hubis
weapon from being used. Up to and including General Order 23.”

Kirk noticed that every head on the bridge snapped up for a second, but only for a second. Starfleet General Order 23 mandated the destruction of an enemy vessel at any cost, including personal. It was issued only in the most dire of occasions. This was surely one of them.

Working the
Enterpris
e’s scanners, Jolma hurried to make sure the captain was able to keep his promise.

Kirk knew they were on the right track and that any location pinpointed
now
wouldn’t be useful when
Enterprise
arrived at those coordinates. If the Kenisians were planning an attack, they wouldn’t be heading in the most direct course.

And just in case the Kenisians were eavesdropping, Kirk wanted them to know that the
Enterprise
was on her way.

The captain knew if the
Enterprise
couldn’t arrive in time, Spock would have to destroy the Kenisian vessel. If he could.

Continuing his attempts to find the first officer, Jolma was frustrated. “I need one more contact, Captain. Just one more.”

Kirk nodded, appreciating the ensign’s dedication.

They waited for Spock’s acknowledgment—two minutes, then five, then seven, then ten.

“He’s fine,” McCoy told Uhura as the captain left them for the command chair. “Just delayed. Someone walked in or . . .”

It sounded to Kirk as if McCoy was reassuring himself as much as the lieutenant.

When he looked at the chronometer for the sixth time in as many minutes, the captain noticed seventeen minutes had passed since Spock’s last contact.

Would Zhatan kill them if they were found to be acting against her?

Was she really a murderer? If so, why not kill Kaalburg and Ottenbrite on the planet? Why not leave Tainler and the
Enterprise
landing party for dead?

By definition of her Kenisian condition, there was more to Zhatan than met the eye. Kirk hoped the depth he’d seen within her wasn’t an illusion she’d implanted to confound him.

Somewhere deep in his gut, the captain felt he was missing something. He rubbed his chin and tried to imagine where the lost puzzle piece could be.

“Uhura,” he said suddenly, spinning about, “get me in touch with Ambassador Pippenge’s assistant, Tainler.”

She nodded and set to work as McCoy stepped down toward Kirk.

The doctor motioned toward the chronometer that sat between Sulu and Chekov. “Been a long time.”

Too long
, Kirk thought.

NINE

“You are taking too long, Mister Spock.” Zhatan’s demeanor was that of an impatient proctor to her student, as if she’d asked her captive to solve a simple equation for the class, and he was purposely dawdling.

He was. But that made the equation no easier to unravel.

“I am unsure what exactly you expect.” Hands clasped behind him, Spock stood as Zhatan strode around him, perhaps in a manner she thought intimidating. Certainly Pippenge, still sitting at his computer console, was sufficiently unsettled.

“We expected a new approach. Sciver has reviewed your notes, and all we see are diligent appraisals of what we already know.” Zhatan stopped, stood in front of him, and mimicked his posture. “We are not looking for evaluations. We need breakthroughs.”

“Scientific innovations do not occur on a timetable,” Spock said.

Frustrated, Zhatan stamped a foot in a childlike manner. “They can! Did you not—with only minutes to perform the task—once formulate a matter/antimatter intermix procedure that saved your vessel from a decaying orbit after her engines had been in cold shutdown?”

Resisting the urge to show shock, Spock merely raised a curious brow. “Interesting.” There was no way to have that information unless the Kenisians were far more familiar with the Federation—and Starfleet—than they had let on. “I must now assume the timing of your arrival within the Maabas system was not happenstance.”

He hadn’t framed that as question, because the answer was obvious.

At first Zhatan hesitated as if caught in a lie. After that, she simply nodded.

However, Sciver looked quite taken aback. Eyes narrow, he sought the commander’s gaze. “Is this true?”

She silenced him with a sharp glare, and he bowed his head in recognition of her authority.

“I don’t understand,” Pippenge said.

Turning to face the ambassador, Spock explained. “Commander Zhatan has just revealed that she has classified Starfleet intelligence. Either she sought out this information previous to the
Enterprise
’s arrival in the Maabas system—”

“The Kenisian system,” Sciver corrected.

Spock tilted his head toward Sciver and nodded. “As you wish.” Turning back to Pippenge, the Vulcan continued. “Either the Kenisians surveilled the
Enterprise
and researched its crew, or they sought out an individual of specific scientific abilities who is assigned to the
Enterprise
, and it was serendipity that we were dispatched for this mission.” He turned to Zhatan, hoping she would indicate which was true.

“We have been monitoring the Maabas for some time,” she admitted, her voice now softer, but her posture straightened with pride. “When the Federation ventured within the system, we began to investigate Starfleet as well.” She shrugged. “Your ship frequents this sector. It was important to learn about your captain, you . . . all those who could be in command and might stand against us.”

“And within my past accomplishments you saw an opportunity to help you meet your ends.”

Zhatan nodded.

“Within you reside four hundred thirteen minds?” Spock asked. “How many of those have worked on the very weapon you seek to re-create?”

“There is a degradation—”

“Commander!” Sciver snapped. Whatever Zhatan was about to reveal, he obviously considered it inappropriate to do so.

Zhatan didn’t care. “You’re dismissed, Sciver.”

“Commander—”

“Dismissed,” she said through gritted teeth.

Sullen, the Kenisian scientist skulked away toward one of the labs.

Zhatan took a deep breath and continued, “I give you truth, Spock, but we want truth in return.”

An interesting mixed usage of “I” and then “we.” Was the individual that was at Zhatan’s core promising him honesty, and the collective of her different personalities asking for his reciprocation as payment?

Spock nodded his agreement and waited patiently.

Zhatan looked at Pippenge, perhaps deciding whether he should be present for whatever admission she was going to make. Turning away from the ambassador, Zhatan had obviously decided he could stay.

“We are not,” she said slowly, “always . . .” Her sentence trailed off unexpectedly, and she sighed.

“Honesty can be disquieting,” Spock told her, releasing his hands from behind his back and allowing them to hang effortlessly at his sides. “But it is often preferable to falsehood, nonetheless.”

Clearing her throat, Zhatan hesitated.

She is,
Spock thought
, so very young, despite all the ancient minds within her.

“The whole is not
always
greater,” she said finally, “than the sum of the parts.”

“I understand.” Spock nodded, and he may have allowed a bit of pity to seep into his voice.

She looked calmed, he noted. Relieved that she need not relate to him all she intended.

However, Pippenge was confused. He looked from Spock to Zhatan. “Forgive me, Commanders . . . but
I
do not understand. Please explain.”

“Any mind, even a highly ordered and resilient Vulcan mind, can be taxed to its limits,” Spock said. “The life essence of an individual normally resides within a single physical brain. There have been instances where one’s consciousness was stored in another, or even in an inorganic vault of sorts. But there is no record of someone acquiring several such consciousnesses—let alone hundreds—without going mad.”

“We are not mad,” Zhatan protested, but she sought Spock’s eyes only a second before looking away.

“No,” Spock agreed, “but you are troubled.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand as much as you thought.”

“Then by all means, clarify.”

Fingers to her temples, Zhatan massaged them a long moment before speaking. She shifted her weight anxiously from one foot to the other, then began. “As I tried to explain, there is a degradation of faculties. Even with the support of archives and prototypes . . . we lack . . . certain . . .”

“You lack total comprehension,” Spock concluded, noticing that she again used the word “I” rather than “we.”

Zhatan nodded. “Among us are the scientists who worked on the original weapon. But the science is lost to us,” she lamented. “We know it
is
possible to limit the destruction. But we do not understand enough of the physics to re-create it.” She looked at Spock, meeting his eyes for the first time since she’d revealed her truth to him. “You
must
help us.”

“You want his help to destroy us?” Pippenge asked.

Zhatan had been so intent on Spock, she seemed startled by the ambassador’s question, if not his presence altogether.

“Our only interest in Kenis Prime was the
na’hubis
. We would not seek to remove you from the planet.”

Pippenge didn’t believe her. “Then why threaten us?”

Half sighing, half shrugging, Zhatan seemed to offer an honest answer. “After much reconnaissance, we thought you weak and easy to manipulate. Threatening you was a means to an end, not the end in itself.”

Covering his mouth with a fist clenched so tightly that it began to shake, Pippenge cried. Within seconds his entire body quaked with sobs. Tears of anger, or tears of relief? Spock could not decipher which.

Nevertheless, having lived his entire life with emotional beings within his orbit, Spock could understand the ambassador’s pain. He reached out his left hand and placed it on Pippenge’s right shoulder, steadying him.

“You will excuse me,” the ambassador said, clearing his throat. “But I thought my people would die in the tens of millions.” He looked up at Zhatan, a bitter expression tightening his face. “My people still believe that. You have terrorized, abducted, absconded—”

“Immaterial.” She waved off his concern and his emotional torrent. As if a switch had flipped, her heart was again hardened, and she turned to address only Spock. “Now, it is time for your truth.”

“What truth do you seek?”

“We believe you’ve been purposely dilatory in your efforts to control the
na’hubis
compound. Will you work with haste toward our end, or are you dooming us to the great unknown?”

Spock opened his mouth to reply, but Zhatan interrupted.

“Not using the weapon is an unacceptable choice to us.” Straightening her tunic and standing taller, as if suddenly emotionally bolstered from within, she stared him down. “Your only alternatives are to assist us, and lower the risk of the outcome none of us desire, or deny us, and doom yourself and the galaxy to uncertainty and possible death.”

“
Probable
death,” Spock corrected.

Zhatan nodded. “Then you know what you must do.”

“WHAT NEWS
of Ambassador Pippenge, Captain?”
A small line of static bisected Tainler’s image on the main viewer, but despite the distance, the picture was amazingly clear. Maabas subspace communication was more advanced than the Federation’s, and there was only minimal delay between locations.
“And of Commander Spock as well,”
she added guiltily.

“They’re alive,” Kirk said. “But not out of the woods.”

Her lips puckering in confusion, the translation of that idiom was clearly awkward. “
They have been taken to a forest?
”

“They’re still in danger,” Kirk corrected. “But with your help we may find a solution.”

Pursing her lips with exaggerated emphasis, Tainler was eager to oblige.
“I’ll help in any way I can, Captain. Any way I can
.
”

Like Pippenge, his assistant was equally ready to help. This was the Maabas hospitality Palamas had written of in her report. “We need access to whatever historical archives you have, going back as far as Maabas history goes.”

“The material on the ruins which Pippenge granted Mister Spock?”

Kirk thought on that a moment. “No, everything you have. The ruins, your time on the planet, even how you came to find it. Everything the Maabas have documented and recorded.”

Again, Tainler flattened her lips.
“I shall see to it. Please stand by.”
She rose from her desk and walked out of frame.

“MADAME PRESIDENT?”
Tainler flashed the door light again. “Are you present?”

After a long pause, the door to President Moberte’s office slid open revealing her ornate fixtures and baroque desk. She stood, pacing, talking, and put up a hand for Tainler to wait until she was done. Representative Lodi sat next to the window, drinking from a tall glass and looking out at the cityscape.

“Yes, I understand your point, Prefect Tyms. And I hope you appreciate mine. These are certainly troubled times, but I trust we shall be able to meet the challenges together.” She paused, listening to his end of the conversation, and then said, “Thank you. Please wish joy to your family for me. Yes. Good night.”

Tainler felt her face flush. Had officials as far down as the Prefects heard about the situation with the Kenisians? Secrets
were
hard to keep.

“My apology,” Moberte said, turning to greet Pippenge’s assistant. “Tyms, once again, is having his preelection palpitations.”

“Oh,” Tainler said, relieved. “Then he doesn’t know about—everything.”

Moberte chuckled at the thought. “I shudder to think how that conversation would go. No. There have been no leaks.”

“Yet,” Lodi added, still looking out the window.

“How may I be of service to you, Tainler?”

“Captain Kirk is requesting full access to our data archives. More than the information previously granted. He wants access to all our historical data, even previous to the migration.”

The president looked at Lodi, studying her. “Indeed?”

“An interesting request,” Representative Lodi said. “For what purpose?”

Hesitating, Tainler was unsure how to answer. She hadn’t even asked. Was she going to be in trouble for not getting full information? “I don’t know,” she told Lodi, then looked at Moberte. “I assumed it would not be a problem. Was I mistaken?”

Swallowing hard, the president exchanged a long glance with the representative.

“It may not present a problem,” Lodi said.

Why were they so concerned? Tainler searched their expressions for some clue, but they were politicians and skilled at hiding their true intent.

“Problem?” she asked, a bit more indignantly than she intended.

“No problem,” Moberte said. “Give them the access.”

Tainler pursed her lips. “There is more going on here than it seems,” she said. “Ambassador Pippenge’s life is at stake. What secrets are you keeping?”

Pinching the bridge of her nose for a quick moment, Moberte moved to her desk chair and settled into it.

I am to be relieved of my duties
, Tainler thought.

But then Lodi rose to stand behind the president. “Reveal it,” she whispered.

Reveal what?

“It could jeopardize our relationship with the Federation,” Moberte snapped. “Now is not the time.”

“If they’re looking for it, they already suspect,” Lodi said calmly. “If they’re not, they likely won’t find it.” She folded her arms, grasping each elbow between her thumbs. “If they truly are our friends, why keep this secret?”

“Because it shows subterfuge,” the president said guiltily.

“Did we lie to them?” Tainler asked incredulously as she stepped toward them. “Is that what this would reveal?”

Moberte pursed her lips. “In a sense, yes.”

“They’ll understand,” Lodi said. “Give them the access they desire, and we shall endure the consequences.”

Moving closer toward them, Tainler was determined to know what it was they feared. “What is this about? This situation is too serious to play such political games. Tell me.”

The president hesitated, but Lodi did not. “Long-range sensors detected the Kenisians some months ago. The Science Directorate was able to ascertain that their technology was similar to that found in the ruins.”

Stunned, Tainler backed away instinctively. “This is why we suddenly embraced the Federation.”

Pressing her lips into a thin line, Moberte admitted it tacitly.