Worlds in Collision (13 page)

“It was Dr. McCoy's idea,” Kirk replied as he crossed to the cell's writing desk.

“Indeed.” Spock watched dubiously as McCoy held a sparkling scanner in front of his chest, keeping track of its readings in the display window of the medical tricorder.

“What's all this, Spock?” Kirk asked as he stood by the desk. It was covered with large stacks of bound hardcopies from the ship's printers.

“The commodore has denied me access to the ship's computer. I find I must carry on my work with printed materials.”

“That's terrible,” Kirk said with a frown, and he meant it. It was one thing to sit in a chair with the weight and warmth of a real book and be transported by fiction, or philosophy, or the inspiring words of beings from far away or long ago. But to actually have to
work
with them, scan through them a page at a time, without the speed of a display or the computer's indexing abilities, seemed barbaric.

“I do find it most inefficient,” Spock agreed.

“Did the commodore give a reason for denying you computer access?” Kirk asked, glancing at the titles of Spock's hardcopies; agriculture and economics journals for the most part, though he didn't understand how they fit into Spock's duties.

“No,” Spock said, rolling up his sleeve to let McCoy take a sample of blood for later analysis. “Though it is logical to assume that she does not want to risk me overriding any of the bridge or engineering controls.” He watched as his green blood filled the ampoule on the end of McCoy's vacuum syringe.

“Can
engineering and bridge controls be overridden from a remote terminal?” Kirk frowned. They
did
share the ship's computer as the main processing unit, but still…

“I have always thought it would be possible, given enough time to work out the programming techniques,” Spock said. “And since the commodore has forbidden me access, I assume that she also suspects or knows it can be done.”

Kirk made a mental note to request a system improvement in his next general report. If someone did manage to work out the programming techniques, the
Enterprise
could be at the mercy of any passenger, or invader, who had access to the most common type of computer terminal in the ship.

“Assuming the commodore won't object to a simple library reader, is there anything else I can get for you?” Kirk sat down at the desk and indicated that McCoy and Spock should join him.

“I would very much appreciate the opportunity to meet with Academician Sradek,” Spock said as he pulled out a chair and sat.

“And he with you,” Kirk said. “The academician came to my cabin the night you were confined to your quarters, asking the same thing.”

McCoy looked at Kirk triumphantly. “Can't wait for the emotion of a teacher/student reunion, right, Spock?”

“On the contrary, Doctor. I believe I still have much to learn from Sradek.”

“Why is that, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asked.

“Sradek is an eminent historian who excels in identifying patterns from the past and applying them to modern situations. His analysis of the dynamics that led to the political unification of the Jovian colonies in your own system led directly to his successful peace proposals for the civil war on Katja Two.”

“And earned him the Peace Prize nomination,” Kirk added.

“Exactly. However, shortly after the cessation of hostilities on Katja Two, the academician was asked to sit on the Sherman's Planet famine board of inquiry.”

“Isn't that old news, Mr. Spock?” McCoy asked. “We delivered new grain stocks there years ago.”

“Quite right, Doctor. But the new grain did not take hold on the planet as quickly as had been projected. The economic ramifications in that quadrant were serious. Even more serious is the evidence of the Sherman Syndrome appearing on other agricultural worlds.”

“The Sherman Syndrome? Sounds like a viewscreen act,” Kirk said.

“It is quite in earnest, I assure you. The name refers to a complex pattern of crop failure, political mismanagement, and faulty economic planning on colony planets. An entire analysis division was set up at Memory Gamma to investigate the syndrome, though, to date, no useful conclusions have emerged. Cause and effect are extremely interconnected and difficult to isolate.”

McCoy was unimpressed. “If you mean that sometimes not every new agricultural colony turns into a golden breadbasket the first time out, I don't see any reason for concern. That's just the risk of farming. Give the colonists enough time to figure out the intricacies of their new world and the yields will go up.”

Kirk intervened. “Spock, does this have anything at all to do with the charges against you? If it doesn't, I think we should put it aside for now.”

“I was merely explaining why I was looking forward to meeting with Sradek so I might question him about his reasons for denying the Sherman Syndrome hypothesis. My logic does not grasp the basis of his arguments and I wish to be enlightened.”

“Fair enough,” Kirk said, trying to roll things along. “Sradek is looking forward to enlightening you about that also and—”

“The academician is not aware of my interest in the subject. I have not communicated with him since the last time I was on Vulcan.”

“Then maybe he wanted to say hello just to be polite,” McCoy suggested.

“I see no need to insult a respected Vulcan scholar, Doctor.”

Kirk held his hands up. “Shall we get to the point, gentlemen.
Please?”

And they did. Once again, Spock recounted his activities from the time Commodore Wolfe boarded at Starbase Four and he was interrogated and confined to his quarters. Kirk went over Spock's eidetic recall of the interrogation and agreed that the commodore's troopers acted as if they had only indefinite suspicions to go on, not hard facts. But no matter how many times they analyzed the situation, not even Spock could reason out a logical conclusion.

In the end, all they were left with was a series of facts and a string of unanswered questions. Someone
had
stunned the two troopers standing guard outside Spock's quarters. That person or an accomplice had then gone to the dilithium lab and switched off the accelerator field's shielding just as Scott's tour group was in an area where they might have been killed by the resultant dilithium reaction,
if
the ship's dilithium crystals had still been on line.

Commodore Wolfe had come on board believing that Spock might be planning some treachery just like that. When it had happened, she was convinced of his guilt. But there were no fingerprints, no witnesses, no computer logs. Only suspicion.

As they appeared to be running out of alternatives, Kirk brought up Wolfe's enigmatic reference to T'Pel.

Spock's expression hardened. “Indeed,” he responded. “Did the commodore give a context for the term?”

“No,” Kirk said. “Though I got the impression it was a name.”

“Anyone you know, Spock?” McCoy asked.

Spock lifted an eyebrow. “Among Vulcans, the name T'Pel is rather common, Doctor. I believe I know several T'Pels and am related to four others.”

Kirk nodded. “The ship's computer came up with more than fifteen thousand references, almost all of them Vulcan females.”

“And the others?” McCoy asked.

“Words from various languages. Lots of dialect terms meaning ‘to drink.' Acronyms, product names, literary references.”

“I assume you investigated further,” Spock said.

“Of course. I asked the computer to pull out every T'Pel reference that could be cross-referenced to you.”

“And?”

Kirk shrugged. “I got biostats on your four cousins.”

“Did you try cross-referencing T'Pel to any illegal acts or threats?” McCoy asked.

“That was my next search,” Kirk said, “and I got nothing.”

McCoy's eyes narrowed. “Out of fifteen thousand references?”

“Illegal acts and threats are not part of the Vulcan heritage,” Spock said. “That is a logical finding.”

By the end of the meeting, it was McCoy who was most upset. “For someone facing court-martial for attempted murder, you certainly aren't acting worried, Mr. Spock.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Spock said.

“Since you're so calm,” McCoy continued, “I take it you believe that the commodore's case is so weak that you have no reason to think there is anything for the rest of us to worry about?”

“I mean nothing of the sort,” Spock said. “Though the case against me is weak, someone on board this ship did try to disable the
Enterprise
and kill one or more of the prize nominees. While I am in custody, the person or persons responsible will be free to try again on Memory Prime.”

“And that's nothing to worry about?” McCoy said, amazed.

“Logically, Doctor, there is no reason to be worried. On the other hand, there is every reason to use whatever means possible to stop such an act.”

“What act?” Kirk asked.

Spock stated it like an elementary class lesson. “The act of killing the Federation's top representatives of virtually all sciences and plunging uncounted star systems into a new dark age.” Kirk decided he would worry enough for the two of them.

 

In engineering, Scott watched the main display board with relief as the engines stepped down to sublight and the
Enterprise
returned to normal space. Despite the jury-rigged repairs and the hours-long strain of factor seven, the circuits had held. Now his people had a full week of scouting around the Jefferies tubes, taking the time to do the repairs properly. And perhaps add a few more of my refinements to the system, Scott thought, though he knew they'd all groan at that. It had come to be a standing joke that the only similarity between the official
Constellation
-class equipment manuals and the
Enterprise'
s manuals was the line about manufacturers' warranties being voided by tampering. In the
Enterprise'
s case, Mr. Scott had voided all the warranties years ago.

Scott left engineering for his quarters. With his main concern out of the way, it was time to turn to the others. He supposed that Spock should top that list, but the science officer had extricated himself from worse situations, and Scott was certain something would work out. It wasn't that he had such absolute faith in the Starfleet judicial system; it was that he had absolute faith in the captain.

The person that he focused on instead was Mira Romaine. She had been the sanest, smartest, and nicest woman who had ever come on board the
Enterprise.
And, he thought, the prettiest.

From the moment he had seen her in the briefing room to go over the installation procedures for the new equipment for Memory Alpha, he had felt the spark pass between them. He remembered having difficulty concentrating on her report that day. It was simple, yet brilliant, and showed an impressive grasp of logistics, combined with an intriguing new programming methodology that could save days in the initialization stages. Reviewing the report later, Scott had seen that the brilliance of Mira's eyes was more than matched by the brilliance of her mind.

At first they'd both been tentative, the differences in their age and rank glaringly apparent. But slowly the hesitations became slighter, the false starts fewer in number. The closer they came to Memory Alpha the stronger the bonds between them grew, as if the threat of loss at mission's end sped up the processes of love.

Aye, love. That was the word for it,
Scott thought lyrically. There had been others in his life, but a true love was rare as heather mist a hundred light-years from home.

He had realized the full strength of the glorious hold that Mira had claimed on his heart when she had been possessed by the Zetarians. To see the light of her eyes replaced by the alien energies of an ancient, deadly life-form; to hear her sweet voice corrupted by the obscene utterances of entities that planned to possess her body by displacing her mind; it had almost destroyed him.

That night, after she had recovered from the multi-atmospheric pressure that had driven the Zetarians from her and the ship, he had discovered in her arms that she had felt the same terror within her. Not the fear of death, but the fear of losing someone who had come to mean so much to her.

The next two weeks at Memory Alpha had been a whirlwind of love and work. Scott was dazzled by her intellect and her playfulness and he realized with the poignant feeling of impending separation that he had met the first woman who could keep up with him in his field, and the first woman who challenged him to keep up with her.

The last day had been an agony. A team of Vulcan technicians had arrived to begin the recovery attempt of Alpha's burned-out cores. Mira was to remain with them. The
Enterprise
was to move on.