Worlds in Collision (67 page)

A page handed the Speaker a note. The Speaker read it, nodded again at the President, then approached Spock once more.

“Spock, it has been brought to the Council's attention that you are expecting others to join you in your address and that those others have not yet arrived. Therefore, the Council suspects that this disjointed history lesson which you are presenting to us is nothing more than an attempt to make the Council wait for the arrival of your missing associates. I point out to you, Spock, that if that is your intention, then you can be held in contempt of this body and asked to leave.”

Spock had anticipated that this interruption would have occurred two minutes earlier. Perhaps he had caught their interest.

“Mr. Speaker, each point I have raised is a necessary step in the presentation of an important matter to the Council. I ask for five more minutes of your time to prove that this is so.”

The Speaker sought clues to any future disturbance in Spock's face but apparently found none. “Very well, five minutes. No more.”

Spock calculated it would take three.

“In the case of the planet, Talin IV—”

The Council chamber erupted. They had been waiting for this.

“Murderer!”

“Worldkiller!”

Other insults and curses were shouted in a variety of languages. Spock tried several times to resume speaking, but the clamor of the Council members drowned him out each time. It took the Speaker most of those five promised minutes to quiet the Council to the point where Spock could continue. The response had been far stronger than Spock had anticipated. He hurriedly made cuts in the rest of what he had to say so the timing he had worked out would still hold.

“In the matter of Talin IV, a planet which is home to a species which the Federation had predicted would be ready to attempt an interstellar colonization program within the next fifty to one hundred standard years, fully forty-eight planets within a twenty-five parsec sphere have been set aside, in trust, for their future use.” He paused, but his unruly audience had already been chastised by the Speaker. The members remained silent and hostile.

“Recognizing this existing, formal arrangement on behalf of the planet of Talin IV—a planet that has recently experienced a terrible disaster—I charge the Federation to provide immediate emergency relief and long-term aid in order to help this world and its people to full recovery.”

After a second explosion of clamorous protest, the President of the Federation at last stood to take part. She took a small pair of antique wire-framed glasses from a case on her desk and slipped them on as she waited for the Speaker to once again bring order to the chamber.

“Mr. Spock,” she began in a voice of quiet authority. “The planet, Talin IV, is under the protection of the Prime Directive. No aid can possibly be sent to it. I am surprised by your actions. The son of Sarek should know better.”

Spock stepped forward into the center of the chamber. “Madame President, with respect, I submit that the Prime Directive does not apply to Talin IV.”

The President adjusted her glasses. “Spock, this act of desperation does not become you, nor does it bring honor to your world. The Prime Directive holds with all worlds which are not part of the Federation.”

Spock moved closer. “Madame President, with respect, I submit that Talin IV is
already
a member of the Federation.”

President Hirashito lost her composure as she gaped at Spock. “On what grounds do you make this claim?” The Speaker could no longer restrain the other members. Dozens of them began to shout similar questions to Spock.

Spock raised his voice above the din. “I submit that by virtue of the planet Talin IV having assigned to it forty-eight planets held in trust for future exploitation, that it shares in the rights and privileges of being a member of the Federation and therefore
is
a member of the Federation.
To which the Prime Directive does not apply.”

Despite the best efforts of the Speaker and the President, the Council members did not subside until Ambassador Sytok walked out to face Spock in the center of the chamber. This time he was wearing his official garments, and the gems of his achievements gleamed in rich and colorful panels on both sides of his robe.

“Madame President, Mr. Speaker,” Sytok said, raising his hand to each of them in turn. “I claim the right to speak with Spock, citizen of Vulcan, whom I charge with abusing his rights and obtaining credentials under false pretenses.”

Spock ignored the Vulcan ambassador. “With respect, Madame President, the Council has not authorized my request that immediate aid be sent to Talin.”

“Mr. Spock!”
The Council hushed instantly at the shocking sight and sound of a Vulcan who had raised his voice in apparent anger. Sytok looked around, realizing what he had done, then composed himself. “Madame President, please allow me to address Spock's request.”

“Please do,” Hirashito said. She sat back down.

“Mr. Spock,” Sytok began again more calmly. “I will admit that there is some logic in your request. A case can be made for claiming that Talin IV is a
de facto
member of the Federation by virtue of its property held in trust.”

“Thank you,” Spock said. By his admission, though he was not yet aware of it, Sytok had just guaranteed that Talin would be helped.

“However,” Sytok continued sagely, “beyond that facile argument, your logic has faltered badly.”

“I look forward to your correction,” Spock said, adopting the words of a student to his teacher.

Sytok made his pronouncement. “You are not properly accredited to this Council to request aid for a member world, Spock.” The Vulcan ambassador swung his arm around the Council chamber to include every member. “If Talin is a member and requires aid, then where are its duly appointed representatives—or its ambassadors—to make such a request of us?”

“Is that all that stands in the way of aid being sent to Talin? A formal request?”

Sytok gripped the collar of his robe in his hand. “It is enough.” He turned his back to Spock and began to walk from the center of the chamber.

Spock looked back to the waiting area by the speakers' entrance door. Marita and Penn stood there with accusing looks of betrayal in their eyes. Spock had spoken against the Prime Directive as he had said he would, but only in relation to a single planet. Spock looked at Marita, knowing that if anyone in her organization would understand his intentions, she would. He motioned to her to open the door.

He saw her nod as she adjusted Alexander against her shoulder and stepped over to pull on the bronze wreath. The massive door opened slowly and Spock saw the last pieces of his presentation waiting behind it—all five of them.

“Ambassador Sytok!” Spock called out.

Sytok halted and looked over his shoulder. Then he turned slowly and fully around. The sound growing among the Council members mirrored the ambassador's most un-Vulcan look of surprise.

Spock turned to the rest of his associates. First, Dr. Richter walked into the chamber, cane clicking on the hard marble. Then came Carole Mallett and Mario Cardinali of the FCO, both gently guiding two tall figures in sweeping gray robes which swayed with the graceful rhythms of a powerful gait.

“I present to this Council,” Spock proclaimed, “their excellencies—Seerl ti'La and Orr ni'Li—”

All the Council members rose, speaking in all the languages of the Federation at once.

Spock continued, knowing that at least the automatic recorders would hear what he said for future playback. “—joint representatives of the two nation states of Talin IV known as Green and Brown—”

Mallett and Cardinali stopped when they reached Spock. Powerful, pebble-skinned arms burst out from the guests' robes to flip back their hoods.

Seerl ti'La's cranial crest bristled crazily as he flushed deep scarlet and stared at the extraordinary gathering of alien creatures who surrounded him. Beside him, flushing to a deep turquoise hue, Orr ni'Li blinked her large yellow eyes. Both creatures' heads turned back and forth with quick birdlike movements. Mallett and Cardinali kept their hands on their guests' arms, constantly speaking assurances to them.

“I charge you with kidnapping these creatures!”
Sytok accused.
“Shame and dishonor!”

The Talin linked arms, seeking protection in each other from the threatening confusion of the Council's upheaval. Spock saw the small silver speakers of miniature translators attached to their hearing membranes. He wondered how much of what was being shouted the machine would be able to translate for them. But at least from their meetings with him, the Talin knew what he was going to say.

“—who left their planet by their
own choice
and in a space vessel of their nations' design,” Spock continued, countering Sytok's charges. He raised his consular documents above his head. “To become, by the authority of these open credentials, provided by the Vulcan Embassy, the duly appointed ambassadors
to
the Federation
from
the member world of Talin. And who now respectfully ask this Council for aid to rebuild their world.

“As is their right.”

The
Ian Shelton
traveled at sixty-four times the speed of light, but to James Kirk it still wasn't fast enough. He sat at the ship's navigation console as if by pushing on it he could coax a few more kilometers per second out of her.
Three more days to get there,
he thought. He was used to ships that traveled a lot faster.

Kirk heard an avalanche of small feet behind him and braced himself for the assault he knew would follow. Nogura was the first to jump up on him. Fitzpatrick and Komack took second and third place by rubbing around his legs.

“Ah,” Gauvreau said as she followed her cats onto the bridge, “the captain and his loyal crew.”

Kirk edged Nogura off his lap with a helpful shove and kept the other two at bay by moving in closer to the console. He had been in a similar situation before on the bridge of the
Enterprise,
but at least tribbles couldn't jump.

Gauvreau stood at his side. “So what did you want me to look at?” she asked.

Kirk pointed to a nonstandard sensor display in the upper left-hand corner of the control board. It wasn't included in the online manuals and he hadn't been able to determine which system drove it. Up to five minutes ago, he hadn't been concerned about not knowing what it was because it consistently had shown a flat reading. But now it was displaying peak numbers.

“Whatever this is set to look for,” Kirk said, “it seems to have found some.”

Gauvreau looked pleased. “Welcome to the mercenary world of the freighter captain. That's my salvage scanner. It's always sweeping for lost ships, old probes, that sort of thing.”

Kirk thought such a scanner might make sense farther in toward the center of Federation space. But, out in this sector, there had yet to be enough traffic for there to have been many lost ships. Besides, most of the ships passing through this region followed established trade routes such as the one the
Shelton
traveled now.

“What have you found with it?” Kirk asked. “I mean, all the way out here?”

“You'd be surprised,” Gauvreau said, adjusting the salvage scanner's sweep to a finer focus. “I'm always coming across some of the old impulse-powered probes from Earth, you know, the Voyagers, the Nomads, that stuff. Remember that after four or five years of full impulse at point nine nine cee, those suckers had a fifty-fifty chance of tunneling into warp space. That's why they lost so many of them, and that's why they're still turning up thousands of light-years away from Earth.” She stabbed her finger at a locking button. “So far I've sold three to the Smithsonian.”

Kirk watched the display home in on whatever the scanner had detected. “Is that another?” he asked. The scanner's readings were cruder and less sensitive than the sensors he was used to from the
Enterprise.
As far as he could tell, it might be picking up anything from an antique probe to a rogue planet.

“Too soon to tell,” Gauvreau said. She stood back from the board with her hands on her hips. “Small and metallic, definitely. Could be another ship…but there aren't any power readings.” She pursed her lips. “I got fifty kilocredits apiece for those probes.”

Kirk checked the coordinates. He estimated that a five-hour deviation would put them close enough to positively identify the signal. He appreciated the fact that Gauvreau appeared to be leaving the final decision to him.
It's only five hours,
he thought. He just hoped Scott wasn't about to pull another one of his miracles and take the
Enterprise
out of the Talin system ahead of schedule.

“All right,” Kirk said. “Let's change heading and track it down.” He didn't wait for Gauvreau's reply. He simply entered in the new course and watched as the stars swung by on the viewscreen.

Four and a half hours later, Kirk knew enough about the salvage scanner to have it work with the main sensors and deliver a thirty percent increase in sensitivity.

“Not bad,” Gauvreau said as she studied how Kirk had realigned both sensor systems to function together. “There's nothing like that in any of the manuals.”

“Out on the frontier, you'd be surprised how quickly you learn to improvise,” Kirk said, continuing his fine adjustments of the newly enhanced scanner. “When we get to Talin, we should try to have Mr. Scott take a look at your matter-antimatter intermix chambers. I'd bet he could get another half factor out of your drive for the same power consumption figures.” He pressed the control that sent the sensor data to the viewscreen where the computer would reconstruct a visual image. “There, this should tell us what it is we've found.”

A slowly expanding cloud of gas filled with spinning flat pieces of metal appeared.

“Debris,” Gauvreau said with dismay. “It's got to be a ship.”

“And it's not old,” Kirk added. “Less than a day.” The cloud of escaped atmosphere hadn't dispersed more than two hundred kilometers and the metal fragments were still close enough together to have returned the strong scanner signal the
Shelton
had detected. Kirk had the computer track and map the largest pieces of what he guessed were hull plates, then reassemble them in memory to try and determine what type of ship had been destroyed.

A wireframe reconstruction of the vessel slowly filled in on the screen.

“Merde,”
Gauvreau said as she and Kirk recognized the half-drawn graphic at the same time. “A freighter.”

“An old one,” Kirk confirmed. “The DY series.” He had become quite expert in recognizing them.

Gauvreau reset the sensors for organics and got nothing. “Must have been a robot ship,” she said with relief. “No sign of bodies.”

But Kirk didn't agree. “Look at the oxygen reading from the gas cloud. No ship would carry that amount of atmosphere unless someone were breathing it.”

Gauvreau reset the sensors again. “Scanning for lifepods and shuttles.”

The sensor alarm chimed. “That's a positive contact,” Gauvreau said. She squeezed closer to Kirk at the navigation board as they both worked the sensors together. The cats watched patiently from the chairs at the other, empty stations.

“But it's not a lifepod,” Kirk said. “And not a shuttle, either.” He punched in a new command line. “It's a waste trail…?”

“Radioactive,” Gauvreau confirmed. Her tone became flat. “First-stage matter.”

Kirk felt a sudden burst of anger. Only one class of vessel left that unique signature of radioactive waste in its wake. “Orion pirates.”

“Bastards,” Gauvreau said bitterly.

“What weapons system does the
Shelton
have?” Kirk asked.

Gauvreau looked away from him. “You know it's illegal for a freighter to be armed, Kirk.”

Kirk looked at her steadily.

“Photon torpedoes,” Gauvreau conceded. “They're surplus but they're still at seventy percent power.”

“How many?”

Gauvreau looked embarrassed. “Three.”

“How do you launch them?”

“I, uh, sort of modified the forward waste-jettison tube.”

Kirk nodded. He turned back to the board to trace the Orion's trail.

“Now wait just a minute, Kirk. The
Shelton
isn't the
Enterprise.
We're not taking on a pirate. No possible way.”

Kirk didn't look up from the controls. “Don't worry, I know. But we have to get close enough to him so we can make a sensor ID that we can pass on to Starfleet when we get to Talin.”

Gauvreau relaxed, but only for a moment. “Then why were you asking about weapons?”

Kirk laid in the new course that would take them after the fleeing pirate.
Good,
he thought,
he's almost on a direct heading to Talin himself. This won't cost us any more time.

“I said: Why were you asking about weapons, Kirk?”

Kirk stood up from the board and stretched. “I estimate we'll be within optimal leading sensor range of the Orion within three hours.”

“So?”

“Which means there's a good chance that we'll be inside his trailing sensor range within
two and a half hours.”
He smiled at Gauvreau to try and reassure her. “Relax, it makes it easier to decide to run away when I know we've got the weapons to stand and fight.”

But Gauvreau looked anything but reassured. “Tell me more about the running-away part,” she said.

 

Two hours and forty minutes later, Kirk watched as the tracking sensors indicated that the Orion vessel was slowing and changing course.

“It's about time you started paying attention to your stern,” he said, watching the sensor blip.

Gauvreau sat at the environmental station where she could control the modified waste-jettison tube, if required. “Are they coming about?”

“Not yet,” Kirk answered. “We're dead in their waste trail so at this distance there's a chance we might only be a false return. They're just running a minor deviation to see if we follow or stay put. As long as we stay put, they'll think we're an echo.”

“So we're staying put, right?”

“For now, we are.” Kirk watched as the Orion's course changed by five degrees, held for a few minutes, then resumed its normal heading. “That's it,” Kirk said. “We're an echo. That gives us at least another twenty minutes to get closer before they'll—what?”

The sensors showed that the Orion ship had suddenly dropped out of warp to relative rest. Kirk punched at the warp cut-off switch, but by the time the
Shelton
hit normal space, the Orion vessel was going to warp three at a ninety-degree deviation to its original course.

Kirk swore and Gauvreau looked with concern at him in alarm. “What happened? What did he do?”

“He's sharper than I thought,” Kirk admitted. “By pulling that maneuver, he was able to get a cross fix on us. Damn. I didn't think the Orions knew about that one.”

“What now?”

“He knows we're here, so we might as well keep going.” Kirk entered an intercept course and the
Shelton
jumped back to warp four.

“Why?” Gauvreau demanded. “He blew up that freighter.”

“Exactly,” Kirk agreed. “And I'll only take us close enough to get an ID scan and then we're heading straight for Talin. We'll still be hours ahead of him.” He looked up as Gauvreau headed for the ladderway. “Where are you going?”

“I'm going to put the cats in the lifepod. Let me know if the Klingon Armada shows up.”

 

“I'm not getting anything that makes sense,” Kirk said an hour later as he started his sensor scan again. “It's almost as if they've rigged their own sensor systems to relay false readings to us.”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Gauvreau said. “Even I've heard of that strategy before.”

The
Shelton'
s captain was back at the environment station. This time she wore a pressure suit and orange micrometeoroid overalls. Her helmet was slung at the side of her chair. Kirk wore the same outfit. After Gauvreau had described to him the minimal power ratings of the
Shelton
's deflector shields, it had seemed the prudent course to take. The pressure suits would give them enough time to get to the lifepod in the event of sudden decompression.

“A strategy is one thing,” Kirk said, sliding the sensor controls back and forth, “but to carry this off, they'd have had to rewire their com system into their sensors. Unless they've got a couple of communications geniuses onboard, I don't see how they could have done it so quickly.”

“Maybe they did it earlier?” Gauvreau suggested. “Before they knew we were here.”

“Possible,” Kirk said, “but not likely they'd want to limit their own com system to just short-range transmissions out in deep space. There's something very strange about that ship. Damn it!”

“What, Kirk?”

Kirk slapped his hand on the console. “They've disappeared again…no…there…I don't believe it. They managed to broadcast a perfect phase delay to us so our sensors showed no return signal for a few seconds.” He turned to look at Gauvreau. “Just when did Orions get so smart?”

“Why not stop underestimating them? Let's give them some of their own back.”

Kirk smiled in swift response. He liked that idea. He went to work on it immediately.

Thirty minutes from intercept, the
Shelton
blazed through space, straight for the Orion vessel. Abruptly, it dropped from warp, flipped to a full reverse heading, then vented its impulse baffles at point nine nine cee. When the relativistically compressed vapor cloud cleared from around the ship, the
Shelton
rotated slowly, stern over keel, running lights out.