Star Trek The Original Series From History's Shadow (19 page)

“So, we’re in the clear again?” Ian asked, pausing to kiss her forehead before leaning against the edge of her desk. He reached up to cover his mouth in a vain attempt to stifle a yawn.

“For now, anyway.” Per their instructions, she and Ian were to continue monitoring the site and preserve it from any outside contamination. The revelation of a Vulcan spacecraft on Earth in this time period would prove problematic, to say the least. Likewise, Cynthia and Ian also had been directed only to observe the crashed ship’s surviving crewmembers, with no permitted assistance or other interaction. The Vulcan scientists, as the Aegis described them, had been sent to Earth to monitor what human history one day would call “the dawn of the Space Age,” brought about by the Soviet Union’s launching of the
Sputnik 1
satellite. It had been the latest in a series of clandestine reconnaissance missions to study Earth as humanity’s knowledge progressed to the point of harnessing atomic energy. Even after the formal first contact between humans and Vulcans took place more than a century from now, it would be some time before the truth of Vulcan’s prolonged interest in Earth was revealed to humanity.

As for
Sputnik
, the planet’s major powers still were
coming to grips with the reality of space as a possible new realm for expansion and perhaps even conquest. Even now, the United States military was laboring to replicate what the Soviets already had done, with Project Vanguard on a track for launching its own satellite within the next ninety days. Once the Americans were able to show the world that they could go head to head against their Russian counterparts, the race for space supremacy would only accelerate.

Knowing this as well as what the future held, the Aegis had begun sending agents to Earth with a new, larger mission requiring more than simple observation. Cynthia and Ian were the first agents dispatched to the planet for this purpose, with their long-term assignment being the monitoring of technological, political, and sociological developments and undertaking whatever surreptitious action was deemed necessary in order to assist humanity through the turbulent times they soon would face.

“I’ve had the computer working on a better sensor we can install,” Ian said, crossing his arms. “It’ll have a greater range, and also will alert us of any aerial reconnaissance that might find the ship.” Shrugging, he added, “I doubt that’ll be a problem, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful. More importantly, it’ll let us know if the Vulcans return to the site.”

Cynthia nodded in agreement. “Good thinking, though I’m guessing the Vulcans will continue taking all necessary steps to conceal their presence. We know they have a communications device, and they’re sticking close to the crash site just in case their distress signal was picked up by someone.”

“What if no one
did
hear it?” Ian asked. “What if it ends up that they’re on their own so far as any drawn-out survival plans? The longer they stay here, the greater their risk of
being discovered. If that happens, we might not be in a position where we can do anything to contain the situation.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Cynthia reached over to pat Ian’s knee. “For now, we’ve got enough to worry about, just protecting the ship and crew from discovery.”

Still, Ian’s was not an unreasonable notion. She had considered the same possibility more than once, and even had furthered that concern on to her superiors, but so far had received no response. If no directions were forthcoming, and she and Ian were left to their own devices and judgment so far as how to deal with the Vulcans, would that help or hinder Earth’s future? Such scenarios, in the abstract, had been a significant part of her training, given the likelihood of field agents having to make momentous decisions without support. Whereas words like “discretion,” “restraint,” and “proportional” were bandied about the classroom with great frequency, theoretical discussions often lacked the nuance encountered in real-world application of such hypotheses.

Ian reached down to place his hand atop hers, which still rested on his knee. “You’ve been up all night, too. It’s Veterans Day, and all government offices are closed. There’s nothing on the schedule so far as Pearson-Thorne is concerned, so why not take the day and get some rest?”

“I thought I told you to do that?” Cynthia asked, twisting her hand so that her fingers could interlace with his.

Shrugging, Ian smiled. “I will if you will.” He leaned forward and she stretched so that her lips met his.

The idea of a quiet, recuperative day had definite appeal, Cynthia decided. She and Ian had been lovers for nearly a year prior, during the last phases of their training, and it was a contributing factor toward their pairing for assignment on Earth in this time period. That was fortunate, considering
how long they might be here, hiding in plain sight among those who always had called this world home. An intimate relationship with a contemporary human was out of the question, given the need for strict secrecy with respect to their true identities and mission.

Her thoughts of leisure—and other things—were interrupted by a muted, almost musical string of tones sounding from the other side of the office. Breaking their kiss and pulling back from Ian, Cynthia swung her chair around to see a section of the room’s opposite wall swinging open toward her, revealing the master control console for their computer, the Beta 4.

“That thing’s timing is impeccable,” Ian said.

Unlike the office’s other fixtures and appointments, there was nothing at all contemporary about the machine’s appearance, design, or functionality. The console, molded from a black glass deca-polymer composite, housed an array of keyboards and other controls as well as six small display screens, all of which were dominated by a larger rectangular screen comprising the console’s upper portion. As the wall finished swinging open, the console was already flaring to life, all of its screens activating to depict a selection of images from local morning news broadcasts as well as scrolling readouts of information captured from the teletype transmissions of numerous prominent news organizations located around the world.

“
Computer on
,” said the computer, speaking in a clipped, masculine tone that reminded Cynthia of the awkward, clunky robots from low-budget science fiction movies. “
Recognize Agent 6. Recognize Agent 42
.” A self-sufficient computing system possessing what its creators called “artificial intellect,” the Beta 4 was the cornerstone of the agents’
activities here on Earth. Capable of interfacing with all of the world’s communications mediums, the computer had constant access to almost anything transpiring anywhere across the globe, so long as it was being documented or reported in some fashion. Interfaced with the translocator, it could send the agents anywhere in the world at a moment’s notice, and it also was the agents’ primary connections to their superiors more than one thousand light-years across the galaxy. In the event an abandoning of their assignment was necessary, the Beta 4 would be their lifeline back to the Aegis homeworld, after which the machine would destroy itself to prevent discovery and possible exploitation by anyone here on Earth.

“Hello,” Cynthia answered. “What have you got for us?”

“
Since launch of the second
Sputnik
satellite,
” the Beta 4 replied, “
I have continued to monitor American and Russian military communications networks. I have detected considerable message traffic in response to a report submitted last week to President Eisenhower.
”

“Gaither’s report?” Ian asked, and when Cynthia looked at him he had his arms folded once more across his chest, frowning as he rubbed his chin with his left hand.

The computer said, “
Correct, Agent 42. Analysis of classified communiques dispatched from Pentagon to high-ranking government and military officials indicates that plans are already in development to conform to several of the report’s recommendations
.”

“We knew this was coming,” Cynthia said. She had spent the previous Thursday evening reviewing the same report read by President Eisenhower earlier that same day.
Deterrence & Survival in the Nuclear Age
, authored by Horace Rowan Gaither, a civilian attorney and founder of a policy institute providing strategic research and analysis for the
Department of Defense, recommended a significant increase in military spending with an aim toward solidifying the United States’s ability to employ and defend against nuclear weapons.

Ian nodded. “
Sputnik
isn’t to blame, not by itself, but when you combine nuclear arms proliferation with the Russians’ perceived advantage so far as exploiting space goes, it makes sense that the United States is going to be taking their own measures.”

The Beta 4 replied, “
Based on report’s recommendations and other orders disseminated through the highest echelons of American military leadership, primary focus will lie in the area of deterrence through means of amassing superior weaponry to deploy against the Soviets. Similar reports and directives from Russian government indicate their armed forces will mount a similar initiative
.”

“According to Gaither’s reported projections,” Ian said, “the total Soviet arms proliferation effort is already on par with America’s, and it will only increase in the coming years. They may not have all of the financial resources of the United States, but they’re pumping a larger chunk of what they
do
have into their military. The world could be facing nuclear annihilation in as little as five years.”

“That’s consistent with what we’ve been told,” Cynthia replied, recalling the limited information they had been given regarding future human history. The Cold War that already had gripped the United States and the Soviet Union for a decade was heating up, and it would have direct as well as subtle effects on people, nations, and events around the world for years to come. What did that mean for her and Ian?

It means we’re going to be busy
.

SIXTEEN

U.S.S. Enterprise

Earth Year 2268

Kirk willed the turbolift to move faster.

“
Red Alert. All hands to battle stations. This is not a drill
.”

Leaving Roberta Lincoln to conduct her own interviews with Gejalik and Mestral, he and Spock now were enduring what to Kirk seemed an eternity as the turbolift carried them to the bridge. Finally, the whine of the lift’s transit slowed, and Kirk felt his muscles tensing in anticipation as the doors opened, flooding the car with the familiar, almost soothing background sounds of the
Enterprise
bridge.

“Report,” he snapped, stepping out of the lift and getting his first look at the image on the main viewscreen. At the moment, only stars greeted him.

Though he had the conn while Kirk was off the bridge, Sulu still was seated at his helm console. “Sensors detected the approach of an unidentified vessel closing on our position at high warp speed. They’re due to arrive in about fifty-seven minutes, sir. Our scans show the vessel is armed, and their weapons are active.”

At the science station, Ensign Chekov turned from the console, a Feinberg communications receiver inserted into his left ear. “A single ship, sir. It has ignored all our hails to this point, and they’re still on an intercept course. I have
identified it as Tandaran in origin, and its configuration suggests it’s a military vessel.”

“Tandaran?” Kirk asked, frowning. “That doesn’t ring any bells.”

Spock, moving to relieve Chekov at the science station, said, “That is not surprising, as Starfleet’s contact with them has been very sporadic since our first recorded contact more than a century ago. They are a humanoid race, and their homeworld is listed in the library computer as Tandar Prime, located in an area of non-aligned space adjacent to Gamma Ceti. The original first contact report, as well as subsequent survey missions, notes that the Tandarans are a somewhat militaristic race, though not so severe as the Klingons or even the Romulans. Reports indicate that while they do not avoid or reject contact or trade with other governments, they prefer to confine their activities to the region of space they control. So far as I am aware, there has never been any hostile action between our two peoples.”

“What’s their level of technology?” Kirk asked.

Clasping his hands behind his back, the first officer replied, “Comparable to ours. Sensors indicate their weapons could pose a threat. Their shields are capable of repelling any attack we might invoke, at least for a time. According to the records in our data banks, this type of vessel is designed for fast attack missions, with a crew complement of twenty-seven persons.”

“And they’re still coming full speed?”

Chekov nodded. “Affirmative, sir.”

“Without further details and given their apparent reluctance to communicate with us,” Spock added, “I am hard-pressed to classify their conduct as anything other than aggressive.”

Stepping down into the bridge’s command well as Chekov resumed his post at the navigator’s station, Kirk said, “Let’s have a look at them, Mister Sulu.”

“Aye, sir,” replied the helm officer, keying the necessary controls. At the center of the main viewscreen’s computer-generated image now appeared a vessel. It was sleek and angular, presenting a compressed profile that to Kirk indicated the spacecraft might also be designed for travel within a planet’s atmosphere. Dark hull plating covered the vessel from stem to stern, rendering it almost invisible against the backdrop of space save for the enhancement provided by the viewscreen’s imaging processor. Kirk saw nothing indicating running lights or even exposed portholes.

It’s a combat ship
.

Continuing to study the Tandaran vessel as he leaned against the helm and navigation console, Kirk already was considering various tactical scenarios should the situation call for him to take action. “Any indications they have scanners of their own? Can they see that our shields are up and our weapons are active?”