STAR TREK LOG TEN Alan Dean
Foster Based on the Popular Series Created
by GENE RODDENBERRY ED 1bbtilde A Del
Rey Book BALLANTINE BOOKS
[*thorn] NEW YORK For EYTON G.
MITCHELL, good friend, doctor to the sick, minister
to the helpless, who realizes that the only difference between
a hand and a paw is a little fur
  Sale of this book without a front cover may be
unauthorised. If this book is coverless, it may
have been reported to the publisher as "unsold or
destroyed" and neither the author nor the publisher may
have received payment for it.
  STAR TREKS is a Trademark of Paramount
Pictures Corporation registered in the U.s.
Patent and Trademark Office A Del
Rey Book Published by Ballantine Books
Copyright tilde 1978 by Paramount Pictures
Corporation
  All rights reserved under International and
Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published
in the United States by Ballantine Books, a
division of Random House, Inc., New York,
and si- multaneously in Canada by Random House
of Canada Limited, Toronto.
  This book is based in part on the short story
"The Soft Weapon," by Larry Niven. Copyright
tilde 1967 by Galaxy Publishing Corporation.
  Library of Congress Catalog Card
Number: 74-8477 ISRN 0-345-27212-9
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition: January 1978 Second
Plinting: September 1991 Cover Art
by Stanislaw Fernandes
  STAR TREK LOG TEI] Log of the
Starship Enterprise Stardates 5538.tilde
5539.2 Inclusive James T. Kirk,
Capt., USSC, FC, ret., Commanding
transcribed by Alan Dean Foster At the
Galactic Historical Archives Ursa
Major Lacus stardated 611 1.3
  For the Curator: JLETTER
  SAVER WEAPON (adapted from a script
by Larry Niven) Stardate 5538.6.
Transmissionstprivate-personal. Code
to officer annual allotment Can-5539,
personnel budget U.s.s. Enterprise, on
patrol in sector (censored) to: Mr./mrs.
Alhamisi Uhura, rural route 5, Kitui
province, Kenya state, Africa, Earth
100643.
  Begin transmission:
  Dear Mom and Dad:
  Not much new from out here, since the scenery doesn't
change too quickly. By the time this letter reaches you,
Dad, the harvest should be in. I hope the corn
has done well, because I understand that hog prices are
fairly high and are expected to go higher, so you and
Mom ought to be able to do very good business this year.
  How is everyone else back home? I am
fine, Hanks, and so is everyone else on board.
We are enjoying a little routine, quiet patrolling
for a change. Quite a relief after all me trouble we
had with the Pandronians. I'm sure you read about that
business in the local news. While I'm not at
liberty to discuss details, take my word for
it mat there's more to that story than you've heard. We
almost lost Mr. Spock to a (details deleted,
ship compucensor).
  Dr. McCoy has promised to send brother
David some interesting information on the
multiple-community Pandronian life systems
(at least, anything which Star Fleet doesn't
censor). It's purely biological material and
should be passable for communication. David could get a
paper or two out of it, I mink. Dr. McCoy
will send it to David's office at Makere
University Hospital in Kampala instead of to the
house there, so it can be transmitted as official
business.
  I'm still enjoying my work tremendously and am doing
what I really always wanted to do[*thorngg'help

  4 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  push back the frontiers of knowledge just a little bit.
I've never been sorry for going into Star Fleet
or for having specialised in communications.
  Do you realize, Mom, that when I'm on duty
on the bridge I'm the only one who knows what's
going on all over the ship? That's because I'm
constantly monitoring interlevel and
interdepartmental communications as well as
deep-space transmissions. What other career could
offer me anything to compare in excitement with what I'm
doing right now?
  Well, got to go now. This letter will use up all
my personal communication's allowance for the next
month, so you won't be hearing from me again before then.
  Your loving daughter,
  Uhura signed the message, punched it into the
ship's computer for deep-space transmission, and
drifted off into a daydream. She remembered killing
the lion.
  It was the day after her sixteenth birthday. The
midsummer East African sun turned the soil
to dust. Motionless regiments of hybrid corn grew
higher than a man, hiding any glimpse of the towers
of now-distant Kitui or the parched veldt ahead.
  Uhura sat pouting beside her father as he guided the
car over the lightly traveled roadway. She
held the elaborately decorated spear
indifferently, though she was careful not to let the sharp
point scratch the transparent bubble-dome of the car.
There was a certain boy she could have been picnicking
with, and she would have far rather been there than here.
  "I still don't see why I have to kill a
lion, Dad."
  Her father looked over at her, smiled through his
neatly trimmed beard. "It is traditional.
Once upon a time the tradition applied only
to manchildren. B"[*thorngg'and his grin grew
  wider[*thorn)'"...y women changed that a couple
of hundred years ago. So now the ritual
applies to you as well."
  "I didn't change it." She folded her arms,
looked exquisitely bored. The air-conditioning was
crawly on her body. The short skirt she wore
provided little warmth.
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 5
  "Besides, it's cold in here. Can't I put my
shorts and halter back on?"
  "Tradition should be upheld, Uhura. Sometimes
that's all one has to remind one of the past.
Tradition says that to prove you have become a
woman, you must kill a lion with a single spear,
by yourself. Since you must do this in the manner of your
ancestors, that means you must do it wearing their archaic
attire also."
  She fingered the heavy metal and bead
  necklaces which hung awkwardly from her neck.
"Can I at least take these off? How could
anyone fight while wearing five kilos of
jewelry?,"
  Her father tried to soothe her. "Come now, it's not that
bad. This will all be over with soon enough. You will do
well, too. Your grandfather has foretold it in the
bones."
  "Chicken bones don't indicate the future."
The lithe young girl snorted derisively. "They
only indicate the former presence of an unlucky
chicken."
  "Your grandfather has more respect for ancient lore
than most of his contemporaries, and certainly more than
you children today' One day you'll admire him for it.
Besides, he does no worse with his bones than the
computer does when it comes to forecasting longrange
weather."
  "He loads the tapes," she said, but
  unconvincingly. Grandfather Uchawi was a lovable but
peculiar old man.
  Her father turned his attention back to the road.
"besides, you've always been a straight-A student in
physical education. I trust in that even more than in
your grandfather's bones."
  Humming silently, the electric vheicle
turned off the main roadway and moved down
a much
  narrower path. Traffic here was infrequent. They
had emerged from the yellow-green ocean of corn and were
traveling over undulating, grassy plains:
cattle country. Shining like milk quartz in the
noonday sun, the benign crown of white-capped
Kilimanjaro gazed down on them. Soon they would
leave private land and cross force barriers into the
Serengeti.
  Uhura regarded her spear again, wishing the cere
  6 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  monial feathers tied just below the blade were sewn
to one of her summer dresses. Matching feathers were
tied behind her, to the base of the oval shield and to the
second spear she was permitted. This extra spear
was a concession to the times. Since the ancient skills
were so rarely practiced, she would be permitted two
chances instead of the traditional one. Both weapons,
however, looked much too fragile to challenge the
tawny king of the veldt.
  Her father reached the Serengeti force barrier and
turned down a road paralleling it, until they
reached a game-park gate. The path beyond was not
paved. None of the paths in the vast parkland were.
  He exchanged greetings with the automatic
gate. It confirmed their names and appointment time and
admitted them. For another hour they drove on,
passing through rugged brushland. The area looked no
different from pictures Uhura had seen of this
country as it had been a thousand years ago.
  Eventually the land cruiser slowed to a halt,
settled gently to the ground. Her father slipped out,
helping her with the bulky shield and second spear.
Slinging one spear across her back, Uhura, by then
resigned to her fate, hefted the shield in her
left hand, the other spear in her right, and faced the
high thornbrush across the way.
  "How will I find the lion?"
  "Don't worry, my daughter. The lion will
find you. Be ready at all times, don't panic,
and remember what you were taught in school."
  With that he bestowed a brief, affectionate kiss
on her forehead and returned to the land cruiser. She
watched it rise, turn, and disappear down the path
they'd come.
  She stood alone, listening to the warbling of
secretive birds.
  Her nose itched, and she rubbed it with the hand holding
the spear. Clear of the land cruiser's air-conditioning,
she was no longer cold. If anything, she was
rapidly becoming hot standing in the sun. Then she
began to
  understand the appropriateness of her
dress[*thorngg'or rather the lack of it.
  STAR TREK BOG TEN 7
  With the disappearance of the vehicle, more birds sang
freely in the surrounding trees and brush. Sounds of
larger creatures moving about reached her. Monkeys,
most likely. The sun was beginning to bother her, but
she remembered what her lore instructor had told
her, and hesitated before retreating into the shade. If
there were lions about, the shade was a likely place for
them to be resting.
  Something brushed a bush on her right. She turned
to stare at it, saw only branches. It was
probably another monkey. If so, then this would be
a safe place to escape from the sun. No monkey
would move close to the ground in the vicinity of a
lion. But it wouldn't take much to make sure.
Finding a suitable rock nearby, she cleared it of
ants, aimed it, and threw it into the rustling copse.
  Something that sounded like a demolished building
crumpling to the earth shook her ears. Though she had
heard that thunder on many tapes, the real thing stiDo
paralyzed her. A shape the size of a
small land cruiser erupted from the brush, an umber
nimbus framing a vast mouth full of flashing white
fangs.
  In place of coherent thought, months of
practice at school took over. Instantly
Uhura dropped to her right knee. The shield stood
braced against her left foreleg as she wrapped both
hands tightly around the shaft of the spear, left hand
over right as she ground the spear-butt sharply into the
dirt.
  The lion leaped.
  A terrific concussion traveled along her arms
and shoulders as the lion came down on the blade of the
spear.
  A Lining strike first time was as much a combination of
luck as skill. Uhura had been lucky. She
wouldn't need to use the second spear. The point of the
first had missed the ribs, slid between them to pierce the
heart.
  Even so, her posture was not quite perfect and the
lion's trailing leg caught her, knocked her
over backward, and sent the shield tumbling. But as
she rolled to her feet and fumbled for the second spear
she saw that the great cat was already Iying stin on its
side. Her first spear protruded brokenly
from its chest.
  8 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  So fast had the attack come that she had the
remainder of her allotted hour free. She was
sitting in the shade enjoying her sparse lunch when her
father finally arrived to pick her up. He emerged from the
land cruiser as it settled to the earth. Curious, he
inspected the motionless fomm of the lion, then came
over to greet her. Pride glistened in his eyes and
she felt a little embarrassed.
  "You did very well, child."
  "Thanks," she replied. "I'm glad it's
over, though." She checked her wrist chronometer.
"If we hurry I might still make the end of the
picnic."
   "That boy again?" He smiled. "All right,
we'll hurry."
  She pointed to the corpse as they walked toward the
vehicle. "I hope I didn't break anything.
It hit pretty hard on the spearpoint."
  "Don't worry." Her father put an arm around
her and playfully tugged the traditional Masai
braids that hung from her head. "The operative
motors, the generator, and the controlling elements are
well protected in the head and legs.
I've seen the insides and they're beautifully put
together. Made to take a lot of punishment, too.
See? The hour's up and they're starting it up again."
  Sure enough, the lion rose as they watched. It
used one paw to pun the spear free. There was no
blood. Just a few shreds of tom plastic. The
simulacrum walked over, politely handed
Uhura her spear, and loped easily back into the
brush.
  "What happens, Dad, if somebody misses a
kin with both spears?"
  "In that case, sugar, the lion comes over,
pats you on the head, and goes back into the forest
to wait for the next tester like yourself. If you fail, you
get to try again in six months."
  He regarded the veldt silently for a moment, then
added, "In the old days, if you missed with your
spears, you never got a second chance."
  Another land cruiser had pulled up alongside
theirs. Two sixteen-year-old boys jumped out,
accompanied by an older man and woman.
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 9
  "We'd better leave. We're running into someone
else's testing hour, and the simulacrum won't begin
its stalk until both cars have left."
  Uhura trotted alongside her father as they
returned to their land cruiser. Both boys eyed her
curiously but said nothing. The one nearest her was
pretty goodlooking, but their minds were elsewhere and she
couldn't say anything to them anyhow. That was against the
rules.
  As she climbed back into the chilled cab of the land
cruiser and reached gratefully for her everyday
clothes, it struck her that according to modern tribal
tradition she was now a fully adult woman.
Probably she was supposed to feel
  different[*thorngg'excited or something All she
felt was relief that the ordeal was over.
  The ritual hadn't been as boring as she had
expected, however. The simulacrum of the lion had
been very real, much more so than the ones she had
practiced against in school. But her primary emotion
was impatience to return to town.
  As the land cruiser hummed smoothly toward the
park gate, she wondered for an instant what it must
have been like hundreds of years ago, when Masai
youths had to go out on their own and confront real
lions, not a composite of fluids and metals and
circuitry. Ones with real teeth, which could cut through
a shoulder in a single snap or crush a
skull like an eggshell. She shuddered a little, and this
time it wasn't an effect of the air-conditioning.
  She had often gazed on the wild lions hunting
out in the Serengeti. What made her queasy
wasn't the thought of being eaten by one, but the concept of
slaughtering one of the magnificent creatures
simply to prove a point about aging which she found
upsetting. Thank goodness she didn't live in such
superstitious times, although her grandfather would have chided
her for such disrespect.
  10 STAR TREK LOG TEN

  Something beeped in her ear. Uhura woke with a
start and activated the incoming call.
  "Message from Starfleet headquarters,
relayed, priority coded, Captain."
  Kirk turned in Uhecommand chair to face her.
"Restricted access, Lieutenant Uhura?"
  She checked Uhe signal code. "It
doesn't say here, 6*."
  "Put it on the main screen then,
Lieutenant."
  Uhura complied, and a portrait took shape on
the main viewscreen forward. The uniform
  beneath was not that of a military man but of a
United ['ederation of Planets diplomat.
Spock's brows lifted slightly in puzzlement.
It was highly unusual for diplomatic information
to come directly to them without belong shuttled Uhrough
Starfleet channels. Then the scene enlarged
slightly to reveal a commodore sitting alongside.
Spock relaxed. The situation had changed from
unusual to simply curious.
  "Captain Kirk," said the man *tion the
diplomatic attire, "I am Joseph
Laiguer, personal envoy and ambassador
plenipotentiary to She systems of Briamos. I
suggest a moment to familiaAze yourself with the basic
details of BA-AMOS as supplied to all
Starfleet vessels."
  "Well, Mr. Spock?" Kirk glanced across
at his science officer, who replied sofay.
  "A fairly recent ['ederation contact,
Capta*tion, on the fringe of explored
territory. There are three closely aligned
solar systems containing five inhabited worlds
comprising the government of Briamos. The
Briamosites are technologically advanced and
possess the* own modest space fleet. They are
humanoid, though they average a third of a
meter taller than human or Vulcan norm and
are reputed to be a polite but
  suspicious people."
  STAR TREK LOG 1 1
  "That matches what I can recall about them.
Thank you, Spock."
  "You have now had time to discuss Briamos with your
officers," the ambassador continued as if no
pause in their conversation had taken place. "You may
already have asked yourself why I am contacting you
directly; also why I am calling from Starfleet
headquarters if I am ambassador to these worlds.
The answer to both is that I was called back for
consultation, unfortunately."
  "Why unfortunately?" Kirk asked.
  "Because," the ambassador said, leaning forward
intently, "it seems that the Briamosites
abruptly decided the other day to hold a conference
on their homeworld during which they will decide whether or
not they will enter into a preliminary
alliance[*thorn)'social, cultural, and
military[*thorngg'with either the Federation . . . or
the Klingon Bmpire."
  What had thus far been a fairly ordinary
communication was one no longer. Although no one
on the bridge neglected his assignment duties,
everyone delegated a portion of his attention to the
figure speaking from the viewscreen.
  "Observers and representatives of both the
Federation and Klingon Bmpire have been invited
to participate in the conference and to present their
respective positions regarding the
  Briamosites" intentions."
  "And you can't be there," said Kirk, filling in
blanks. "Why not?"
  "Among other things," the ambassador
  explained, "the Briamosites are noted for their
impatience." He named a date. "As you can see,
it would be impossible for me to reach Briamos from
Starfleet headquarters anywhere near the time set for the
opening of the conference."
  "Are the Briamosites so impatient they
wouldn't delay the start of such an important
conference until you could arrive?" Impatience was one
thing, Kirk thought, but this bordered on downright
rudeness.
  The ambassador was slowly shaking his head. "It
is important to them, Captain Kirk. According to the
Briamosite way of thinking, we will be the ones
guilty of
  12 STAR TREEBN
  an insult if we do not arrive in time for the beginning
of their conference. Therefore," and he rustled some papers
before him officiously, "since the Enterprise is
patrolling in the Federation sector nearest
to Briamos you are directed to proceed there,
Captain, empowered to act as
ambassador-at-large for the Federation with all due
powers and rights in my absence and to act forand in the name
of the United Federation of Planets." He dropped
the papers, regarded the viewscreen pickup
solemnly.
  Kirk shifted uneasily in his chair. He would
far rather have been informed he could expect to deal with a
rapacious alien life form than with the intricacies
of diplomacy.
  As the ambassador concluded his talk, Spock
turned and began speaking softly to his computer
pickup. There were important preparations to be
made, and he was commencing such activities already.
  "That's all I have to say." The ambassador
looked to his right. As he did so, the view widened
to include the officer sitting next to him. "But
Commodore Musashi has a few comments to add, I
believe."
  Kirk had never met the diminutive commodore
now gazing out at him, but he knew of him
by reputation: an old-line officer famed for
directness and the brilliance of his tactical
solutions to logistical problems. With the Romulans
on one side and the Klingons on the other, plus
assorted bellicose organisations in be- tween,
the United Federation of Planets had special
need of men with Musashi's particular analytical
talents. So, while the older officer would no doubt
have preferred a ship command to a desk job, the
requirements of the Federation kept him tied
to Starfleet he ad quarters .
  Kirk could sympathise with what he had heard.
Only loyalty kept Musashi active. In
Musashi's position, having to battle figures and
charts and petty bureaucratic interference, Kirk
probably would have resigned. The fact that the
  commodore remained to serve the Fleet despite
personal feelings only made Kirk pay
particular attention to what the man was about to say.
  "I cannot overemphasise the importance of this as
  STAR TREK TEN 13
  signment to you, Captain Kirk," the commodore
began earnestly. "You must keep in mind at
all times that these Briamosites are not only not just
your average cluster of primitive aborigines, but
are one of the most advanced races we have contacted in
a hundred years." Spock turned his attention from
various science readouts to pay attention as me
commodore paused for effect, then continued.
  "Starfleet intelligence has estimated that the
five worlds of Briamos have a combined population of
well over seven billion. In terms of natural
resources these five worlds and the uninhabited
satellite worlds of their Free systems are quite
wealthy. Here at Starfleet me impression of me
Briamosites themselves is one of a competent, highly
industrious people. It goes without saying mat they would be
a welcome addition even on a limited-alliance
basis to the United Federation."
  Musashi leaned back in his seat, sighed
deeply. "Unfortunately, they could also become a
  powerful ally of the Klingons. From what we know of
their natural temperament, which borders on
brusqueness at times, they could blend in as well with the
Klingons as with
  us.
  "Should the Briamosites decide to link
  themselves with me Klingon Bmpire and should that
relationship be cemented in me future, it would do much
more than simply gain the
  Klingons a powerful friend. Because of their position on
the flank of Me Bmpire, me Briamos- ites
could be counted on by Me Klingons to anchor mat
portion of Heir empire and protect it from
attack. Doing so would free their ships immediately
to create considerably more mischief elsewhere."
  "The term "mischief" is imprecise, but I
have no doubt as to the commodore's true meaning."
  Spock glanced over at Kirk as he spoke.
  "I don't think anyone would, Mr. Spock,"
Kirk agreed.
  Once again the pickup concentrated on the
ambassador. "There you have the situation, Captain
Kirk. We of the Federation Diplomatic Corps
wish you luck and know you'll carry out your assignment
to the credit of us all. I wish only that I could be
there in person to as
  14 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  sist you, but space and time preclude it." He
paused, obviously trying to think if he'd forgotten
anything.
  "Again, keep in mind always the Briamosites'
natural impatience. We've already
contacted them and informed them that our
  representative[*thorngg'meaning
you[*thorngg'w arrive in time for the conference. What
else could we say?" He shrugged slightly. "They
replied in their gruffly polite fashion that our
representatives would be most
welcome[*thorngg'indeed, would be anxiously
  awaited[*thorngg'b that the conference date is
set and will proceed whether or not the Enterprise
arrives on time." Another pause, and when he
resumed it was in a low, almost warning tone.
  "I need hardly tell you, Captain, that the
absence of the Federation representative at the conference
would be tantamount to an expression of disinterest on
our part, if not an outright insult. Nothing could be
better calculated to drive the Briamosites
into the orbit of the Klingon Empire than for the
Enterprise to arrive after the conference is scheduled
to begin."
  Kirk bridled at being so openly chided, but
held his silence.
  "You will proceed to Briamos by way of
  Starbase Twenty-Five. There you will receive
additional briefings and more detailed
  information on what you can expect upon arriving
at Briamos. You should have ample time to attend all
the scheduled briefings and still reach Briamos well
before the conference begins." The ambassador thought for a
moment, glanced briefly over at the commodore, then
said almost absently to the pickup at his end, "That's
all, then, Captain Kirk. We of the
Diplomatic Corps are with you in spirit if not in the
flesh."
  The picture faded. As it did so, Kirk thought
he detected the barest hint of a reassuring grin on
Commodore Musashi's face. It was a smile that
said, Don't-
  mind-the-ambassador-he's-upset-because-he-can'
t-be-
  there-for-his-moment-of-glory-so-just-ignore-him
comanddo-your-job.
  "End transmission, Captain," Uhura
announced formally as the last vestiges of image
faded from the screen.
  STAR TRER L tilde TEN 15
  Kirk considered all he had just seen and heard,
then swiveled to regard his first officer. "Well,
Mr. Spock, I'd just as soon not engage in any
professional word fighting, but we don't seem to have
any choice. We're prisoners of our
spatial position. At least we'll get to meet
the
  Briamosites. They sound like an interesting people.
I only wish we didn't have to be civil to a
bunch of Klingons at the same time."
  "I also have been intrigued by the little I have heard of
Briamos and its inhabitants, Captain,"
replied Spock. "I am looking forward to the
starbase sessions we will be attending."
  Kirk nodded in reply, turned to face the
helm. "Mr. Sulu, set a course for Starbase
Twenty-Five."
  "Yes, sir," Sulu responded, turning
to his console.
  "Standard cruising speed, Mr. Sulu." Kirk
hesitated, then asked, "By the way, do we have
coordinates for Briamos? In the event we run
into trouble, we might have to bypass the starbase and
proceed directly to Briamos."
  SuIu made a rapid check of the navigation
computer. "Coordinates for Briamos were entered
last input session, sir. If we have to, we can
get there from here."
  Kirk relaxed a little at that information.
  "Anticipating difficulties, sir?"
Lieutenant Arex inquired from his position at the
navigation station.
  "Lieutenant, given the importance of this conference
to both the Federation and Klingon, I'd be surprised
if we didn't run into a little interference."
  "Yes, sir," the Edoan acknowledged in his
quiet way. "Dense of me not to see that, sir."
  "Excuse me, Captain."
  Kirk frowned slightly, glanced over a shoulder
toward communications.
  "What is it, Lieutenant Uhura?"
  "Sir, I h"[*thorngg'she sounded a bit
uncertain, which was unusual in
xf[*thorn)'"...another priority message coming
in."
  It was Spock who voiced the most obvious
objection. "Are you certain it's not a ghost of the first
message, Lieutenant?"
  Uhura was rapidly checking several readouts.
"No
  16 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  sir, absolutely not. I haven't quite traced the
place of origin, but it's definitely not coming from
Starfleet coordinates."
  There was silence on the bridge while
Uhura fought with abstract math. As usual, she
won. "The signal is very weak, Captain." Again
delicate hands moved in an attempt to coax the
incoming message to greater clarity. "Odd." She was
staring at a single readout now. "According to my
instrumentation the signal is emanating from a system
known as Gruyakin."
  "Mr. Spock?" But Kirk needn't have urged
his first officer, who was already reading the requisite
information from the science computer screen.
  "The Gruyakin system consists of twelve
planets circling a K-6 star, Captain," he
reported. "Two of the dozen worlds are reported
to be marginally habitable, but there are no settlements
of any kind. The only item of interest stems from
reports of a vanished civilisation on one of the two
inhabitable worlds."
  "Then who," Kirk wondered aloud, "is
  broadcasting a message strong enough to reach this far?"
  "I don't know, sir, but I have an acceptable
signal now."
  "Let's see it then' Lieutenant." Kirk
turned his attention once again to the main screen.
  Despite Uhura's best efforts and some heroic
image enhancing by the communication
  computers, the picture that appeared there was fuzzy
and distorted. But amid the interference everyone could
make out a tired and
  none-too-clean, middle-aged human woman.
They could also discern a few details, including
prematurely grey hair, deep-set blue
eyes, and an expression awash with worry and grave
concern.
  "Does anybody . . ." she said, obviously
in the middle of repeating a by-now-old message.
Abruptly she noticed an unseen control on her
left and looked into her own pickup out onto the
bridge of the Enterprise. Kirk wondered if her
view of him was as weak as his own was of her.
  "Sorry if we've startled you," he said, "but you
were broadcasting on a priority Starfleet
frequency."
  "I know what we're doing!" she replied, a
mite tes
  STAR TREK LOG 17
  lily. Then it was her turn to apologise as she
ran a hand over her forehead to brush aside several
trailing hairs. "Excuse me, whoever you are.
We've all been under a tot of pressure here.
We still are.
  "My name is Shannon Masid. I'm in charge
of this expedition to Gruyakin Six." She used a
thumb to gesture sharply over one coverall-clad
shoulder.
  "One of the two inhabitable worlds in the Groyakin
system, Captain," Spock whispered to him.
  Despite the poor quality of the transmission,
Kirk could just make out the curving wall of a
transparent dome behind the woman and a very little bit of the
landscape beyond. A few hardy, thin plants showed
against the dome, as tired and beaten as the topography
they grew upon. A lake so dull and black it
might have been the source of the Styx lay in the distance.
  "What expedition is that?" Kirk wanted to know.
"According to our information there are no outposts in the
Grayakin system."
  "Not so fast, sir. Who might you be?"
  Kirk was a little peeved at what sounded almost like
an accusation. This was evident in his reply, which was a
touch sharper than he meant it to be. "I'm
Captain James T. Kirk, commanding the
U.s.s. Enterprise, en route to Starbase
  Twenty-Five."
  "Enterprise . . . Starbase l tilde
enty-Five." The woman appeared
relieved, then said importantly, "Captain,
I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to alter your
course.
  "Alter our[*thorn]?" Kirk was speechless.
  "I am sure Ms. Masid has a reason,
sir," Spock said gently.
  "I'm sure she does, Mr. Spock,"
Kirk replied firmly, "and Em sure it's
valid[*thorn)'ffher." He directed his voice
to the command-chair pickup.
  "Ms. Masid, the Enterprise is on a
mission of vital importance to the Federation. I can't
imagine any circumstances under which we could alter our
course. If you're in some difficulty, please
explain its nature and we'll see that relief is
sent to you promptly. But I'm afraid we
c[*thorn]"
  18 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  "How do I know you're who and what you say you
are?"
  For a second Kirk's outrage threatened
to overpower his reason. Then he considered the
suspicion and fear in the woman's tone. His
exasperation gave way to curiosity. This Masid
did not look or sound like a fool. Then it
came to him something he had noticed as soon as she'd
appeared on the screen but had only placed just now
  She wasn't just frightened. She was terrified. That
had not been immediately obvious because she was fighting
to keep her emotions under control.
  "How do I know," she continued anxiously, "that
you're not in some kind of disguise, that your appearance
isn't meant to fool us?"
  "Mr. Spock, play the visual pickup around
the bridge," Kirk directed.
  Spock did so, and the woman's darting eyes on
the screen showed that she was following
  everything intently.
  "Satisfied?" Kirk asked when the pickup had
completed a circuit of the bridge.
  "Almost. If this is a ruse, it's an
elaborate one. Just one question," she went on
rapidly. "Who won the Federation tridimensional
hockey
  championship three years ago in the
  double-overtime final game, and who was named most
valuable player?"
  "Really, Ms. Masidl"
  "I'm dead serious, Captain," she replied.
"That information isn't likely to be in an
enemy's computer banks."
  "Her seriousness appears genuine, Captain."
  Spock was convinced of the woman's sincerity. "If
you'll wait a moment I'll check the computer
files in the recreation section and[*thorn]"
  Sulu interrupted him as he prepared to recover
the necessary information.
  "That's not necessary, Mr. Spock." The
  helmsman put himself on the pickup. "The
  EITHER-RIDANI Gryfalcons," he said. "Most
valuable player was canter-forward-up Shawn
Ge-Yourmis."
  "[thank you, whoever you are. That's right." The
  STAR TREK 19
  woman on the screen smiled gratefully.
Sulu glanced at the science station, and Spock
nodded approvingly in return.
  "That's as conclusive a test as I can think of,"
the figure on the screen declared. She folded her
hands on the battered worktable before her. "I've got
to accept that you're who you say you are.
  "Our expedition isn't large or permanent enough
to qualify for outpost status," she explained.
"That's why we're not listed in your computer. I'm in
charge of Pederation
  Archeological Expedition Four-Six-Two,
in- vestigating the remnants of a dead civilisation
on Gruyakin's sixth planet."
  "That matches the information we have,
  Captain," Spock declared.
  "The civilisation of this world," and she gestured again
at the desolate, unimpressive landscape
barely visible through the dome behind her, "was not
particularly important, nor does it seem to us
to have been especially impressive. Nevertheless, it was
a civilization and all such are deemed worthy of
study and investigation."
  "I'm familiar with the motives of the Pederation
Science League," Kirk commented drily. "You still
haven't explained your reason for utilizing a
priority distress frequency."
  "We've found something here which is
  impressive, Captain. It's the reason for our
signal, for my unfrly attitude, and for my
caution in dealing with you. We couldn't risk having an
unfrly power learn what we've unearthed here.
Captain, we've found a sealed Slaver stasis
box."
  Silence on the bridge.
  Kirk turned to his first officer..
"Mr. Spock, what are the odds of finding a
Slaver stasis box on . . ." He stopped,
waved diffidently.. "Jo, never mind. All that
matters is that such a box exists."
  "We've been broadcasting our priority call
ever since we found the box, Captain." The
reasons for the archeologist's tenseness became clear.
"Going on two weeks now. We haven't much of a
  transmitter here. Your ship is the first that's
passed within hailing distance." She
  20 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  smiled slightly again. "This isn't a heavily
funded expedition. As I said, Gruyakin's not
thought to be very important.
  "You see now, Captain Kirk, why you must
change course. As far from developed Federation worlds
as we are, I've been frightened that some unfrly power
or unprincipled group of humans might stumble on
our discovery. A sealed Slaver stasis box, of
course, is beyond price."
  "I understand now, Ms. Masid." Kirk
regarded her sympathetically. "You were right to be so
cautious. The temptation would be enormous even for
an honest man. We'll be there as soon as possible
and we'll relieve you of that box."
  "Thank you." She was so obviously happy that it
was embarrassing. "I can handle responsibility, but
this is a bit too much for me, Captain. We'll
be anxiously awaiting your arrival here."
  "Your pardon, Captain," Spock began
urgently, but Kirk hushed him.
  "I'll be glad to see the damn thing gone,"
Shannon Masid was saying. "So we can all get
back to some simple, uncomplicated excavating.
We'll have our beacon set to provide you with
beam-down or landing coordinates. Grnyakin Six
out . . ."
  "Captain, you cannot afford to miss the orientation
sessions at Starbase Twenty-Five and still
expect to make credible and accurate
ambassadorial decisions." Spock regarded the
captain expectantly. The hoped-for suggestion was
not long in coming.
  "No, I can't, Mr. Spock. But you can."
  "That was my thought as well, Captain."
  Kirk completed a mental outline. "You,
  Lieutenant Uhura, and Lieutanant Sulu
win travel via shuttlecraft to Grnyakin Six
and take custody of the stasis box. While you are
doing that, I'll be undergoing briefing sessions
on Briamos at Starbase Twenty-Five.
We'll depart from Briamos upon completion of those
sessions or immediately on your arrival from Grnyakin,
whichever falls nearest to the time set for the beginning of the
conference." He paused thoughtfully, added, "I'd rather
have you undergo those same sessions, Mr.
  STAR TREK
  Spock, but I'm confident that as long as one of us
attends them, he can fill in the other on
Briamosite protocol and such with the aid of
tapes."
  "I believe I can cope with the material
sufficiently, prior to our arrival at
Briamos, Captain."
  Kirk smiled imperceptibly. "I'm sure you
can, Spock." The smile vanished. "I wouldn't
consider sending you three," and he gazed in turn at
each of the three designated officers, "prior to so
vital a conference if an unopened stasis box
wasn't of nearly equal importance."
  "Captain?"
  "Yes, Spock?"
  "Rather than have Lieutenant Commander
  Scott substitute in my place, Captain,
and have someone take over in turn for him, I
request permission to have Lieutenant Vedama of
  Sciences handle my duties in my temporary
absence. I'll have little time to brief him, but he's a
highly competent officer who deserves the
opportunity to gain some experience in a
  command position. He has served as chief science
officer on smaller Starfleet vessels. For him
to take over for me on short notice, even for a
week or so, will be excellent training."
  Kirk nodded approvingly. It was like Spock to have
the interests of a younger officer in mind even as he was
about to embark on a serious mission of his own.
  "I haven't heard anyone speak ill of the
officer you mention, Mr. Spock. Request
approved. You'll detail the lieutenant
personally before you depart."
  "Of course, Captain."
  Rising from the command chair, Kirk met with the three
department officers near the turbolift doors.
"You'll leave as soon as possible. If you reach
Gruyakin and have even a suspicion that another
vessel might be in your spatial vicinity, get in
touch with us immediately."
  "What could you do in such a situation, Captain?"
Spock wanted to know. "You still cannot deviate
from your appointment with the briefers at Starbase
Twenty-Five."
  "One crisis at a time, Mr. Spock." He
went on more seriously. "I really don't know. Much
would depend on
  22 STAR TRBK BOG TEN
  our exact position relative to Gruyakin and the
base, and the position of the other ship, its markings, and
so on. The difficulty stems from the fact that the
contents of a Slaver box might be worth more than an
alliance with Briamos, or they might be worthless.
Let's hope no such problems arise. Just pick
up the box and get out of the Gruyakin system as fast
as you're able."
  All three officers acknowledged the captain's
orders, then hurried to their cabins. Only the
minimum of personal effects would be taken. A
shuttlecraft had very little spare room. But they
wouldn't be gone very long and nothing beyond the basics was
required.
  Not long after leaving the bridge, they were clustered in
the shuttlecraft bay. Engineer Scott was waiting
to greet them, having just finished a personal checkout
of the tattle shuttlecraft Copernicus.
  "Have a nice trip, Mr. Spock,
Sulu, Uhura," he said. "Bring back lots of
pictures."
  "From what I've seen of Gruyakin Six,
Mr. Scott," Spock replied perfectly
deadpan, "visual mementos would not be of much
interest.
  However, I'm certain you'll find what we're
going after of considerably more interest."
  "And what might that be? I was only told
to make the shuttle ready for a fast flight."
  "Everything's been happening all at once, Mr.
Scott," Sulu explained. "An archeological
expedition on Gruyakin Six has found a
Slaver stasis box."
  "A Slaver[*thorn]" Scott let out a
long whistle, looked impressed. "No wonder the
captain's in such a hurry. Why isna the ship
gain"?"
  "The Enterprise must reach Starbase
  Twenty-Five by a certain date, Mr.
Scott." Spock was making his own, inevitable fast
inspection of the shuttle. "Sending out a shuttle
to Gruyakin is the only way everything can be
properly
  accomplished in the time remaining to us. The
sooner the stasis box is aboard the Enterprise,
the better it will be for the Federation."
  "Aye, Mr. Spock. Here to Gruyakin
to Starbase Twenty-Five. I dinna think I'd
care to be makin' that trip myself."
  STAR TREK LOG 23
  "I share your concern, but we have, as I've ex-
plained, no choice."
  Scott gestured at the shuttle. "Well,
there's no need to worry about the Copernicus.
I've
  triple-checked everything myself and you've got
long-range supplies bulging every storage locker.
If you have to stay out longer than you plan, you're
equipped for it."
  "I hope not." Uhura looked anxious.
"I'm curious to see what these controversial
  Briamosites are like. I've never heard of
Starfleet speaking so highly of a new civilisation
or potential new ally. They must be something
special."
  "They can hardly be more special than a sealed
stasis box," said Sulu fervently. "I've
heard about them all my life, read about them on
tapes, seen pictures of them, but I never
expected to see one in person."
  "In appearance," Spock commented as they entered the
shuttle, "a stasis box is not particularly
impressive. The knowledge of what lies inside more than
makes up for any abstract esthetic
deficiencies, however." He turned in the
doorway, looked back out into the shuttle bay.
  "Good-bye, Mr. Scott. We'll be seeing you
again very soon."
  Scott waited until the shuttle door had
sealed itself, murmured a heartfelt, "Amen to that,
Mr. Spock." Then he jogged to the near wall and
punched an intercom switch.
  "Attention, attention! Chief Engineer Scott
speaking. All personnel are directed to clear the
shuttlecraft bay. Clear the shuttle bay for
launch."
  He thumbed another switch, was rewarded by the
clamor of the bay alarm, then hit the
  communications nub once more.
  "Bridge . . . Shuttle bay."
  "Kirk here. That you, Scotty?"
  "Aye, Captain. Clearing the bay. I'll be
out myself in a second."
  "Thanks, Scotty. We'll take it
from here. Bridge out." He turned to the communications
station, now manned by Lieutenant M'ress.
  "Communications check, Copernicus,
Lieutenant."
  24 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  "Checking, sirr," The Caitian officer
purred back at him as she studied her console.
"Channel open."
  Kirk spoke into his chair pickup. "Mr.
Spock, this is the captain speaking."
  "Communications check good, Captain," came the
clear reply. "All shuttle systems check out
normal. Ready for departure."
  "Stand by." Kirk turned to face the slight,
nut- brown little man seated at the science station.
"Open the shuttle-bay doors, Lieutenant,
  Vedama."
  "Opening shuttle-bay doors, sir." The
science of- ficer's voice was almost as gentle as
Lieutenant Arex's, but clipped at the end of
heavily consonanted words. Vedama's ancestors
had fought for a subsistence existence outside a
bloated city on Earth named Bombay. Now the
great-great-grandson of those struggling peasants commanded
more knowledge at his fingertips than had all his
ancestors combined.
  At the stern of the Enterprise vast metal
panels slid ponderously aside. There was no one
in the chamber, now open to space, to see the few
wisps of unreclaimed atmosphere puff out into
  emptiness. Several lights flashed on and then
off, were matched by smaller telltales on the ship's
bridge.
  "Shuttlecraft away, Captain," Vedama
reported.
  "Close bay doors."
  "Closing doors, sir."
  Kirk turned his attention to the main
  viewscreen. "Lieutenant M'ress, give
me shuttle channel and the view from aft scanners."
M'ress nudged certain controls and a picture of the
Copernicus, floating behind the Enterprise,
appeared on the screen.
  "Mr. Spock?"
  "All shuttle systems continue to function
normally, Captain," came the instant reply.
"Preparing course to Gruyakin."
  "Mr. Spock," Kirk continued more softly,
"I meant what I said earlier. If you encounter
another ship in the Gruyakin system,
notify me immediately. Don't try to save time
by coping with an intruder yourselves. You're not equipped
for it."
  "I understand, Captain. Hopefully we will see
noth
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 25
  ing but subsolar shuttles at our destination. We
will rendezvous with the Enterprise at Starbase
TwentyFive at the appropriate time.
Copernicus out."
  "Enterprise ... out." Reluctantly, convinced
he had forgotten something, Kirk switched off.
  After a while he considered beaming the shuttle again,
but he had really nothing more to add. Spock was not the
reckless type, but[*thorngg'Then it struck him
what was actually bothering him. He wanted to be on
board the Copernicus, racing to Grnyakin. Not on
his way to sit like a schoolboy again before a set of
repetitive lectures.
  There were no such things as adults, he mused
idly. Only older children . . .

  From the time it left the Enterprise, the
Copernicus was traveling at maximum shuttle
speed. Spock intended to retrieve the
Slaver stasis box as fast as possible, both
to insure its safety and to make sure that they would
reach Starbase Twenty-Five in time for them to sit
in on the last of the Briamos briefings.
Consequently, it wasn't too long before they had
entered the Grnyakin system and taken up orbit
around its sixth planet.
  That world was no more impressive from orbit than it
had been when seen on the main screen of the
Enterprise. It was clearly a tired, worn
globe, an old world with no high mountain ranges and
only shallow oceans. Yet at one time in the
distant past it had been home to a hopeful
civilisation. Perhaps the people of Grnyakin had also
yearned to reach the stars, only to fall back in
failure. Galactic archeology had long ago
proven one thing: Those races who reached the stars
  expanded, advanced, and grew. Those who did not
often fell to squabbling among themselves over petty
tribal differences, only to disappear long before their
natural time.
  26 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  The same thing might have happened to Vulcan. It
had come very near to happening on Earth.
  Yet down there among the dead cities and
forgotten memories lay one of the most valuable
single objects in the galaxy, a Slaver stasis
box. How and why it had come to be in this
  unimportant place was a question the
  archeological expedition might answer in the fu-
ture. For now, it was important to place that box
and its as-yet-unknown contents under more protection than
a group of scientists and researchers could offer.
  "I've located their beacon, Mr. Spock."
Uhura glanced up from the Copernicus's modest
console.
  "Homing in," reported Sulu, as he angled
the shutdecraft in the direction provided by the
beacon.
  Uhura made adjustments to another section of the
console, Hen announced with satisfaction: "Audio
contact."
  "Identify yourselves," a strident voice demanded
in the small cabin of the shuttle. "Our main phaser
batteries are trained on you! Identify yourselves."
  Sulu chuckled, but Spock spoke normally
into the pickup. "You can drop the subterfuge,
Gruyakin Six. This is the shuttlecraft
Copernicus from the U.s.s. Enterprise, here
to pick up . . . cargo. Commander Spock
speaking. Is that you, Director Masidl"
  An audible sigh reached Uhem over the
  speaker. "Yes, it is, Commander. Excuse our
bluff. It's not much, but it's the best we could think
of."
  A pause, then: "We're mighty glad you're
here. The Enterprise isn't with you?"
  "No. This is the only way we could satisfy
two vital commitments within a limited time."
  "What difference does it make?" Uhura
looked askance at Sulu, who shrugged.
  "You have our beacon?" the director asked.
  "Yes. With your permission, we will land immediately."
  "The sooner the better. Grnyakin out."
  Spock thought to ask a question, but decided not to call
back. They would be down on the surface soon enough and
he could ask it in person. He was feeling some of the
same concern as Uhura. There was some
  STAR TREK Ed TEN 27
  thing going on down on the blighted surface of this
world . . .
  It wasn't often Sulu had the chance to pilot a
shuttlecraft, much less to make a planetary
landing. The transporter was a far simpler and faster
device. But one couldn't have told this from the
smoothness d their touchdown, which was a silent, safe
tribute to the lieutenant's training and natural
ability.
  He brought the shuttle to a halt alongside the
dark lake they had first observed during the initial
transmission from Grnyakin to the Enterprise.
Black volcanic sand along the narrow beach
extended out indefinitely into the water and explained the
lake's grim coloration. Ruined buildings,
testaments to a forgotten alien ar- chitecture, lined
the far shore of the lake.
  Immediately to their left and slightly farther from the
shoreline shone the familiar bubbles of pressurised
domes. In the bleak setting they provided a
comforting, if spartan, reminder of civilisation. The
expedition's quarters were far from luxurious. Love
of science and the quest for knowledge could often enable people to endure
hardships no sensible person would otherwise
willingly submit to.
  "Peculiar," commented Spock as he regarded the
horizon near the domes. "They knew we were coming
right down. I'd think there'd be someone here to meet
  us."
  Sulu frowned as he studied the terrain. ""Not
a pretty world." He checked instruments,
gazed at readouts. "Atmosphere is breathable, which
is to be expected, but thin. Altitude
equivalent of roughly three thousand meters on
Earth. That might explain why no one's running
to greet us."
  He peered closer at an isolated dial.
"Judging from the content of certain trace gases, I
don't think this world's going to smell very good, ei-
ther."
  Uhura squinted and then raised a hand to point.
"Here they come. There's a vehicle of some kind."
  A small, oval-bodied crawler was speeding
toward them from the general region of the domes.
  28 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  "Driver's a little reckless," Uhura observed
disapprovingly.
  Covering the intervening ground at high speed, the
vehicle whined to a stop before the shuttle as Sulu
let down the ramp. The atmosphere which now filled
the shuttle had a faint flavor of overripe
vegetation tinged with sulfur. Sulu tried not to look
pained as they moved to meet their greeters.
  Spock recognized the woman getting out of the far
side of the crawler as expedition director
Masid. Two men followed her toward the
shuttle.
  "They appear worried," he said
speculatively. "I'd have thought they would be
relieved by our arrival. I'm anxious to learn why
they're not."
  Uhura's nose twisted as they started down the
ramp. "Phew! I think I'd wear a
life-support belt here, even if the air is
considered fit for breathing."
  "An injudicious waste of energy,
Lieutenant," Spock chided her as they walked
toward the approaching threesome. His own nostrils
twitched as a particularly noxious odor brushed
them. He had to confess privately that Uhura's
idea was not without merit.
  Masid noted his insignia, went straight up
to him and extended a hand. "Commander Spock."
  Her grip was surprisingly firm.
  "Director Masid." He took in the
expressions of the two men who were accompanying her.
All three humans wore expressions akin to those
who had recently placed large bets on a sure
thing, only to learn that it wasn't so sure and that they
had three minutes to withdraw their bets.
  More significantly, the taller of the two
men had a recent phaser burn scarring the left
side of his neck.
  "You've had trouble," Spock said. It was not
exactly a question.
  The director was panting heavily, fighting for
air and not because of Grnyakin Six's thinner
atmosphere. It was clear she had been running
hard. "It's the box," she said reluctantly.
"It's been stolen."
  "Stolen!" Sulu couldn't believe it.
"Didn't you have it under guard? Something that
valuable[*thorn]"
  "Please, Mr.... ?"
  STAR TREK TEN 29
  "Lieutenant Sulu," he replied.
  "Lieutenant," she explained wearily, "try
to understand my situation here. This is purely a
scientific expedition. I'd thought that I could
believe the psychological profiles in our
records. Those profiles were accurate save for
one man. Even gnen the poss tilde combility that
one of my people might conceivably be tempted by the
wealth the box could represent, I thought that our
isolation here, with no way for anyone to get
off-planet until the relief ship
arrives, would prevent any criminal action toward
the stasis box. Well, I was wrong The
psychologists were wrong."
  "You had best fill us in on exactly what has
taken place," Spock suggested gently.
  "The man's name is Jaiao," she began
tiredly. "One of our excavators. Just because he's
not as bright as some of our scientists was no reason
to suspect him of barbering dishonest thoughts. Jaiao's
difficulty is not unique. He simply feels
he's not as wealthy as he would like to be." Her face
twisted into a sardonic grin. "That's the problem."
  "He stole the box by himself, then?" inquired
Spock. "He is acting alone?"
  "As far as we can tell." Masid gestured
toward the distant domes. "Leastwise, no one's
rushed to help hen so far."
  The criminal bent of certain humans never ceased
to perplex Spock, and the present situation appeared
founded on less logic than most such incidents.
  Masid shook her head. "Be stunned if I
know what came over him." Again she gestured at the
domes, taking care to indicate the bulge farthest from
their right. "He's locked himself in a storage
dome."
  "Have you tried to reason with him?"
  She eyed the first officer strangely. "For some
five minutes, until it became clear the devil
himself couldn't talk him out of his foolishness. We also
tried exhausting the air in the dome, but he has a
life-support belt and plenty of power packs for
it, so that didn't work."
  "What can he do against you, to keep you from simply
rushing him?" Sulu asked.
  "He has a weapon in there, a model 6BB
  displacer.
  30 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  That's one of the portable tools we use for
excavating the ruins. It's clumsy compared to a hand
phaser, but in the hands of someone like Jaiao, who knows
how to use it, it makes a pretty nasty weapon,
as Charlie here can tell you."
  The man with the ugly burn mark on his neck
nodded. "He's not fooling with that thing. He didn't
miss me by much[*thorngg'and I don't think he was
trying to miss me at all."
  "If you tried exhausting the air in his dome,
he'd just cut his way out into thinner but still livable
atmosphere," Sulu pointed out. "You must have some
weapons, or at least other displacers and people
who know how to run them. How
  many of you are there here at the station?"
  "I know what you're thinking, Lieutenant."
  Masid nodded. "It won't work. I didn't
mean to imply that Jaiao is stupid. He's not,
he's just not as brilliant as some of our
higher-ranking professionals here. But he knew
what he was doing before he took the box, had his
strategy pretty well planned out. He went
straight for the storage dome, with its ample supply
of water, power, and food.
  "If we rush him," she finished somberly,
"he's threatened to use the displacer to try and open the
stasis box."
  "If we could be certain there was nothing in the box for
its mechanism to protect . . ."
  "Oh, it's sealed all right, Commander," she told
him.
  "Isn't there some way we can neutralize the
field without him knowing about it, Mr. Spock?" The
helmsman looked hopefully at his superior.
  "I fear not, Mr. Sulu. An unopened,
sealed box maintains its stasis field by means we
still do not understand. Inside that field, time stands still,
perfectly preserving whatever its original
owners wished to put inside.
  "There are methods of safely opening a stasis
box. It has been done a number of times. But if
the opening is not carried out with the utmost care and proper
instrumentation, the results can be disastrous. I
personally know of one stasis box that was opened
hastily and im
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 31
  properly. It contained a variety of disrupter
bomb. It may also have contained many other things, but we
will never know of them. When the box was tampered with in that
sloppy fashion, the bomb went off.
  "I have heard of other means, equally lethal, which
the Slavers employed to assure the security of their
boxes. This person's threat to open this one in a
hasty, crude fashion is a very real threat
to anyone nearby."
  "Sorry. I apologise, Director
Masid." Sulu looked contrite. "I should have
guessed you had reasons for not having made a
direct attack on him already."
  She smiled back at him. "We're researchers
here, not members of the military. We don't know how
to proceed or what to do next. We do have one
shuttlecraft, located far on the other
side of the domes, for emergency use. Our main
relief ship isn't due for another three months.
There are several inhabited systems within the range of
our own shuttle."
  "I can imagine what he is demanding," said
Spock knowledgeably.
  She nodded, once. "F'ree access to the
shuttle and a guarantee of noninterference until he
reaches it. He won't get that from me. We'd
sooner have him break the box seal and destroy the
whole base rather than let him slip away to maybe
sell the box to someone with belligerent intentions."
There were murmurs of agreement from the two men
flanking her.
  "Of course," Spock pointed out, "the box may
not contain anything that might be of use to such people. Neither
weapon nor weapon-adaptable device."
  "But we can't take that chance . . . of course."
  Masid eyed Spock approvingly. "We think
alike, Commander."
  "I will accept that to a certain point," Spock
agreed cautiously. "I still believe our best
attempt to, ah, defuse the situation is
to reason with the man."
  "It's hard to reason with someone who has
most of his sense in his back, Commander," declared
Masid firmly. "Maybe you can do better than
we have, but I doubt it." She eyed him with
suspicion.
  "We must at least give the appearance of
negotiating in good faith." Spock looked
  thoughtful as he glanced
  32 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  toward the domes. "I want to see what the
physical situation is, before deciding how
to proceed. In order to do that we must convince him
to talk with us."
  "All right," agreed the director. "The fact
that you're Federation military might have some effect on
him. I'm afraid he's convinced himself that he's
gone too far to back out now."
  "I don't think so," Uhura disagreed. "So
far he's guilty of nothing worse than simple
theft."
  "And assault with intent to kill." That came from the
unforgiving-sounding man on Masid's left, the one
with the burn from the displacer.
  "Perhaps he will talk to you." Masid appeared
ready to half persuade herself that something might be done
before someone was killed. "Just remember that
Jaiao has visions of endless wealth running through his
head and he figures this is his one chance in life
to get it."
  "All I require is that you tell him who we
are and aid us in getting to talk with him." Spock
started toward the car. "The sooner we begin, the
better it will be. We are on a tight schedule
ourselves."
  The cargo compartment of the battered little land vehicle
was spacious enough to hold them all without crowding, if not
in comfort. Once inside, Masid piloted the
vehicle over a circuitous course across the
surprisingly rugged terrain. Lava had flowed here
in the recent past and there were cracks and rills to be
avoided.
  On the way they passed other members of the
expedition. All of them worked hard at being interested
in their assigned duties, but they glanced
furtively and often in the direction of the car and the new
arrivals within. Sulu noticed several of the anxious
faces. He couldn't blame them. If the
undoubtedly nervous man in the storage dome tried
to force open the stasis box, everyone nearby might
instantly vanish from existence.
  The lock leading into the domes was simple
in design and fragile in execution, and
heavy-duty seals weren't necessary. The lock was
present for convenience only, to permit the expedition
to maintain the slight comfort of normal atmosphere
within its living quarters. On dour Gruyakin, even
the slightest luxury was worth a little extra
expense, the helmsman mused.
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 33
  Inside, they followed a corridor to where a man
and woman were crouching behind a
  tripod-mounted device of metal and plastic.
Spock recognized it as a displacer of a type
similar to the one Director Masid had already
indicated was in the hands of the thief. Such a device
was designed to move modest quantities of earth and
stone with fair precision. His own small hand phaser
contained more destructive power. The displacer could still
neatly remove a man's head from his body, however.
  As they approached, the woman rose, eyed the
thme officers speculatively, and addressed the
expedition head. "He's still holed up in there,
Director. He's been very quiet."
  "Asleep?" Spock queried.
  She looked up at him. "No. We heard some
crates being opened. He's using the time
to build up his easily accessible supplies, I
think."
  "We thought of that too, Commander," Masid said
regretfully. "I told you Jaiao had this
planned out. He says he's set up an alarm
system to warn him if anyone gets within three
meters of him. That's not much warning, but I don't
want to risk the lives of any of my people finding out
how fast his reaction time is. Anyhow, we can't
tell when he's sleeping and when he's not. He
blew out the visual monitors in the dome's roof,
and he stays out of sight."
  "Sounds like he's ready to settle down for a long
stay," observed Sulu as he moved forward.
  Masid took a couple of quick steps, cut him
off. "Take it a little slower here, please,
Lieutenant. Jaiao's shown a tendency to be a
bit
  trigger-happy." She gestured upward and they
saw the dark streaks on the tough dome material where
blasts from the displacer had struck.
  Keeping close to the near wall, they moved cau-
tiously toward the storage dome. They reached a
place where the corridor opened into a
  two-story-high single large chamber. In
places, it was stacked almost to that curved ceiling with
tubes, cylinders, and crates of all sizes and
colors.
  Sulu was in the lead and cautiously peeked around
  34 STAN LOG TEN
  the last bend in the corridor. "I can't see
him," he whispered back to the others.
  "A little to the left of room renter," Masid
advised him. "He's built himself a nice little
barricade with a couple of big gas tanks in
front."
  Sulu shifted his gaze slightly, located the
bulky metal cylinders. "Still can't see him . .
. He's well hidden, all right." The helmsman
kept an eye on the disconcerting arrangement of
containers. One of the brightly colored shapes moved
slightly. "I see him now. He's staying down
low, Mr. Spock. I don't think we could get
a phaser on him clean."
  "What about reflective surfaces, Mr.
Sulu?"
  The helmsman stared long at the makeshift
fortress in the center of the room. "No good, sir.
Everything that's piled close to him is plastic,
ceramic, or some other dulled material.
Nothing polished enough to risk bouncing a beam off."
  "I didn't think of that." Masid looked
impressed. "But don't attribute it
to Jaiao's intelligence. I don't think he's that
smart. We just don't have much stored in metal or
glass cases, that's all."
  Spock started forward. "Let me have a look,
Mr. Sulu."
  The lieutenant hugged the wall as he edged back
into the corridor, trading places with the first officer.
Spock peered around the corner, immediately located the
thief's makeshift ramparts.
  "What is his last name, please?" he asked.
  "Beguin," Masid told him.
  Spock nodded, turned, and leaned as far into the
room as he dared.
  "Jaiao Beguin," he called sharply. No
answer. He tried again. "laiao Beguinl"
  A rustling sound reached them from the jumble of crates
and cylinders, though no face appeared among them.
"You know what I wantl I'm getting
impatient!" The voice was high-pitched, angry.
  Sulu leaned over, whispered to Uhura. "Not
even Mr. Spock's going to be able to reason with this
one. The director's right: He's a little
crazy."
  Ignoring the byplay behind him, the first officer of
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 35
  the Enterprise concentrated on analyzing the
reply to his call, dissecting every nuance, building a
temporary psychological profile of the speaker out
of a couple of short, terse statements.
  "This is Commander Spock of the Federation cruiser
Enterprise. I am in command of a landing party from that
ship. We are here to recover the Slaver stasis
box, which is valuable property belonging to the Federation
government and all its peoples.
  "At this very moment, heavy phasers are trained on
you both from my position and from outside this dome. You
cannot escape. We can kill you if we have to,
instantly, before you can damage the box[*thorngg'andthe
box and its contents will not be affected.
  "Thus far you can only be charged with simple theft
and assault. If you turn over the box and
surrender, it will go much easier on you."
  The reply to Spock's carefully worded
  combination of promise and threat was a peal of barking,
none-toostable laughter that bordered on the
hysterical. "I don't believe your" it declared
imperiously. "If you could kill me and not
damage the box you would have done so already, without giving
me any warning. Who do you think you're fooling with?"
  Spock could have answered the man's question, but it would
do no good to antagonise him further. Besides,
Spock hadn't expected the man to give in
readily.
  "Didn't you hear our shuttle land?" he
called.
  "Yeah, I heard it," Beguin admitted, his
voice a bit ofter and more speculative now. "You
could have a cannon trained on my forehead for all I
care. I've got the box right in front of me, between
my legs. It's sitting on the workplate of a
compacter. You know what that means?"
  Masid looked startled, and whispered to Sulu and
Uhura. "Our compacter is a device for crushing
rocks and other material for detailed analysis of
their constituent parts. It's got an idle control.
If it's running and he trips the trigger for fast
release, it'll throw about a thousand kilos of
pressure onto the stasis boxl"
  36 STAR TREK L tilde TEN
  Sululooked worried. "Is that enough to crack the
box, Mr. Spock?"
  "It is possible," the first officer finally
replied after considering the problem thoroughly,
"depending on the strength of the field inside the box
and how much of it shields the box material itself. I
would prefer not to risk it."
  The nervous, taunting voice of the thief
interrupted them. "Go ahead and shoot, why don't
you, Mr. Spock of the Enterprise? Why don't you
shoots You might kill me before the auto-release
I've set on the compacter can trigger it . . . but
I don't think so. In any case, I'm betting
my life that you're not willing to take that gamble.
I'm going to bet that you're not going to risk the lives
of all the people in this station, including your own."
  "You are quite correct," Spock shouted back at
him, "but neither can you escape with the box. It is a
stalemated situation you cannot win."
  'I don't see why not." Bravado mixed with
assurance in the man's voice. 'Tve planned this
pretty careful. You can't do anything to me without
having me throw the compacter pressure onto the
box. And while you sit and make up your minds I
can get along nice, thanks."
  'iWhat about sleep?" Spock countered. "All
the food and water in the world won't help you when you
need rest, nor will your imaginary warning
device if we rush you from several sides
  simultaneously."
  "1 figure with the stimulants I've found,"
Beguin responded, "y can stay awake
operating efficiently for another forty hours or
80. But you're right, Commander Spock. You could
make trouble for me if I fell asleep. So this
is what we're going to do: If I don't hear
something positive about my request for the shuttle in
forty hours, and I find myself falling asleep,
I'll just have to assume you've an outsmarted me.
That'll mean all my work's been for nothing, won't
it? I'll be very discouraged and depressed. I
think," he
  concluded, his voice rising slightly, "that in that
event I'll just let the compacter go on the box
anyway, to see what happens."
  Spock and the others ignored the laughter drifting
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 37
  out of the room. "We now know how much time we have
left to work in."
  "What happens if the forty hours are up and we
haven't figured out how to pry him loose from that
box?" Uhura stared straight at Spock.
  "We will deal with that eventuality in
thirty-nine hours, Lieutenant," Spock informed
her crisply.
  "He's got it all planned out, all right," she
observed. "He's smarter than I thought."
  "There is a difference, Lieutenant, between true
intelligence and animal cunning. The latter is the
virtue our opponent possesses and it is that we
must cope with."
  "Whatever, it's working for him," she argued.
  "True enough." Spock turned his gaze to the
attentive director. "Are there any other
entrances or exits to this storage dome?"
  "NO, none," Masid informed them.
  Spock nodded knowingly. "Given the care with which this
theft has been carried out thus far, I would not be
surprised if that is yet another reason why he
retreated here. Did you consider cutting another
entrance?"
  "We did," she confessed. "I decided there's
no way we could do it without Beguin hearing or seeing
us, or both, and the last thing I wanted to do was panic
him."
  "Quite right." Spock eyed his companions. "I have
a thought . . . but I would prefer an idea with a
better chance of success than I postulate
for my own."
  "What about inducing some kind of odorless,
colorless gas into the dome's ventilation system?"
Uhura proposed. "If it was seeped in
gradually, it might knock him out before he knows
what's happening."
  "I would almost consider that, Lieutenant,"
Spock admitted, "save for one drawback. If
he is staying as close to the compacter and the box as he
insists he is, then I would be surprised if he
is not keeping a hand close by the compacter trigger at
all times. The danger of knocking him out without
anyone else around is that his hand or body might
fall on the compacter trigger." He glanced
briefly back into the chamber.
  "Somehow we must get someone dose to him, so
  38 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  that he cannot possibly throw the compacter switch in
a last futile, defiant gesture." He
paused. "I see one possibility. There is a very
large container just to the left and rear of his likely
resting place." He glanced backward. "What
does it contain, Director Masidl"
  She crawled forward, peered around the corner. "I
see the one you mean, Commander, but I don't
know what's inside. I can't keep track of
everything that comes in in the way of supplies. Just a
minute."
  She retreated, climbed to her feet, and
disappeared down the corridor. Several minutes
passed before she returned with a tall man in tow, the
one with the scar on his neck.
  "Charlie's our quartermaster. It's his
bailiwick that Beguin appropriated. That's how
he got that burn." She gestured to him and they both
  managed to glance into the room. "The big crate
on Beguin's left, Charlie . . . what's in
it?"
  "Give me a second." The man leaned farther
into the room, squinted at the container in question. Just as
he ducked back into the corridor, a faint but
lethal bolt from the displacer scored the floor where
he had been a moment before.
  "That's just to let you know that Em still watchingI" a
loud voice warned them. "Lucky for you I'm not
asleep, or the whole place would go upl"
  Leaning back against the corridor wall, Sulu
eyed the smoking trench in the floor respectfully.
  'if do not think we can reason further with him,"
Spock announced.
  ""I knew that in the first place." Uhura
sniffed at the odor of burnt duraplastic.
  "Nevertheless, it had to be tried. One is always
hopeful[*thorn]"
  Charlie cut him off. "I remember now. I
wanted to be sure. The crate holds bulk food
rations, Commander. Should be mostly small containers of
raw proteins, natural sealed meats and stuff."
  "Nothing that would make much noise if it fell within
the crate?" Spock asked.
  "No . . . I wouldn't think so."
  STAR TREK LOG 39
  Masid's gaze narrowed. "What are you
planning, Commander?"
  Spock gestured just behind them, at the couple
manntag the makeshift weapon. "You have other
displacers besides that one?"
  "Sure," she said quickly. "They're all out at
the various sites we're working but[*thorn]"
  "How long to bring two of your best ones in and set
them up near here?"
  She still didn't quite believe what Spock was in-
directly proposing. "Within an hour, I guess.
But I thought we already ruled out any attempt at
cutting through[*thorn]"
  "Not to cut," Spock corrected her, "to dig.
We will position the displacers precisely and
tunnel beneath the dome. The tunnel will come up under the
box very slowly and quietly. We'll make a little
natural background noise, but the ground will muffle
the sound of the displacer, which I understand is a
relatively silent instrument when operated at low
power."
  "That's so," Masid admitted.
  "Whoever goes through the tunnel can cut through the
bottom of the container manually. A phaser set on
low power should slice through the plastic container
material quickly and with little noise. Then he can pass
the contents of the container back through the tunnel.
Simultaneously we will engage Mr. Beguin in
conversation."
  Masid gave him a very querulous look.
  "I had not expected enthusiasm," Spock
  confessed. "It is far from an ideal plan. I
am not pleased with it myself. But in the absence of any
alternative . . ."
  No one said anything for a long moment. Then the
director nodded to Spock. "All right, Commander.
This sort of work is more your job than mine. I
don't like it, but we'll try anything."
  The displacers were brought in. After careful
calculating, they were set in place and turned on.
Their efficient operators had muffled the
already-quiet devices with insulating material and they
dug in near silence. Nor was there any noticeable
vibration.
  40 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  Nonetheless, to be absolutely certain Beguin
didn't grow suspicious[*thorngg'and to try
to wear him down a little mentally[*thorngg'Masid
and the three officers from the Enterprise took turns
arguing, threatening and appealing to the barricaded thief.
Helpfully, he argued back, seeming to enjoy their
futile attempts to cajole him out of his
hideaway. Occasionally he would fire a blast from his
displacer in their direction, apparently for no other
reason than because it kept him amused.
  Spock had no illusions about what would happen
when the drugs started to lose their effectiveness and
Beguin found himself growing drowsy. His maniacal
humor would fade
  concurrent with his alertness.
  At the moment, the first officer was watching the dirt
and rock emerge in buckets from the rapidly
lengthening tunnel. It would take longer this
way, but a conveyer would be dangerously noisy.
  Uhura studied a small diagram, drew some
lines on it, and compared them with calculations scribbled
in the diagram's margin. "They should be in position
any minute now, Mr. Spock."
  "Yes. I'll want both you and Mr. Sulu
to cover the area as best you can with your phasers.
Don't fire unless you're certain he's clear of the
stasis box and the compacter. Don't worry about
hitting me. I'll try to get him away from the
compacter trigger, and then[*thorn]"
  "Excuse me, sir." Sulu took the liberty
of interrupting his superior. "I think I ought to be
the one to go."
  "This was my idea, Lieutenant, and I'll be the
one to take the necessary risks, since I'll be the one
responsible for this attempt's success or
failure."
  "Exactly, sir," pressed Sulu urgently,
"and that's the very reason I should be the one to go."
  "Explain yourself, Lieutenant."
  "Mr. Spock, you can hold this man's attention
better than any of us. That's the really critical
part of the operation: not charging him from behind but distracting him
from the front. If we can do that
effectively, then anyone can jump him."
  "He's right, Mr. Spock," Uhura agreed.
  The first officer considered the objection only
briefly. "I do not like the proposal but I cannot
counter your
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 41
  arguments. Very well, Lieutenant Sulu. You
will be the one to attack from inside the crate. Take
special care with your phaser setting when you get
ready to cut through the container bottom. It is
imperative Mr. Beguin not hear you. As time
passes without our meeting his demands, he grows
progressively more unstable."
  "Don't worry, sir," Sulu assured him.
"I've seen what his displacer can do. I don't
want it pointed in my face when I come out of there .
. ."
  IV
  The displacers finished their work quickly. After a
final conference with his companions and a wish of "Good
luck" from Uhura, Sulu found himself crawling on
hands and knees through the smooth passageway.
Half-fused earth slid by under his palms.
  Small lights had been placed at regular
intervals in the tunnel by the excavators,
so he had no trouble seeing his path. Nor did he
have to be told when he was nearing his destination, since the
tunnel floor and ceiling turned sharply upward.
The excavators had used their displacers to cut long
notches in the floor there. Otherwise the
intermittently slick surface would have offered poor
purchase for ascending.
  Aware that he was under the storage dome now and that the
highly excitable Beguin was
  somewhere above and just to his right, Sulu continued with
greater caution. He passed the last emplaced
light, which threw just enough
  illumination for him to make out a dark mass ahead:
the bottom of the crate.
  Edging close to it, he removed his pre-set
phaser and trained it on the dark, thick material.
Silently, the low-power beam cut through the
dull-surfaced substance. Sulu had to move
slightly, hugging the wall of the tunnel, to avoid
drops of liquid, hot plastic dripping out of the
steadily widening hole.
  When he had enlarged the gap enough for a man to fit
through, he turned off the phaser and replaced it at
  42 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  his waist. All was silent above, save for
distant voices. Spock and the others were doing their
part, arguing with Beguin and keeping his attention
focused elsewhere.
  Carefully, Sulu edged upward, began the
dangerous task of removing the smaller packages
from within the crate. Working fast and
  efficiently, he soon emptied the crate of a
substantial portion of its contents, sliding them
down into the tunnel. Then, a short
pull[*thorngg'and he was on his knees inside.
  For the last time he rehearsed his next moves in his
mind. First, he rechecked his position. Beguin ought
to be off to his right, through that wall of his crate
container, mere. Sulu shifted more containers, giving
himself a clear path to the crate wall in the
opposite direction from Beguin's position. Then
he activated his phaser again.
  Gently Sulu applied the soft, short beam
to one of the crate walls, near the top. Once more the
preformed material softened, ran down into the crate.
Fortunately, the plastic melted without an odor,
as Spock and Masid had assured him it would. He
reminded himself that there was no reason for Beguin to go
for a stroll and every reason for him not to, but he still
worried that the thief might somehow notice
what was going on behind him.
  As the hole appeared and widened and
  lengthened, the distant voices became clearly
audible. Spock was arguing with Beguin, using all the
semantic forces at his command, trying to convince him
to surrender the box. Chances of that were slim, but the
critical thing was to keep the thief occupied long enough
for Sulu to slip clear and make a good run at the
compacter and its half-hysterical guardian.
  With a top line cut through, Sulu started curving the
phaser beam down along one side. That done, he
switched to the opposite side, still straining for the sound
of footsteps outside the crate. As the opening
enlarged, he found he could follow the details of the
conversation taking place behind him. Spock's steady,
calm words alternated with the irregular, high-pitched
retorts of Beguin.
  STAR TREK Ed TEN 43
  Then the phaser began cutting across, parallel to the
bottom of the container. Sulu slid his fingers slowly
into the nearest vertical crack, gripped firmly.
It wouldn't do to have the thick slab of plastic tumble
outward to the dome floor. A final snick and the
opening was complete. Steadying the cut section with his right
hand, the helmsman switched off his phaser and
set it down. Then both hands gripped the cutout and
pushed. It slid neatly outward and he laid it
quietly on the dome.
  If his position had been properly gauged,
Beguin should be on the exact opposite side of the
crate from him. A cautious glance showed only
stacks of cylinders and containers ahead.
  After a minute had passed without a displacer beam
abruptly roasting his container, Sulu crawled out and
readjusted his phaser. A first glance around the tall
black square revealed additional piles of
material, containers of all sizes and shapes
scattered about. There was a hint of motion and he drew
back, still watching.
  A head and gesturing arm appeared. "Why don't
you quit trying to talk me out of here?" Beguin
shouted warningly. "I'm not giving up the box."
  "You are not leaving Grnyakin with the box in your
possession," Spock's distant voice countered
immediately.
  Beguin was beginning to sound tired. "You already know
what happens then. If I don't get what I
want in"[*thorngg'there was a brief pause "in
twenty-one hours, I open the box with the compacter and
we all die."
  "Not necessarily," Spock objected. "We
do not know for certain that this box contains a disrupter
bomb or other destructive device. In that
case, you will be the only one to die."
  "Maybe you're right," Beguin conceded readily.
"I've heard that some of the stasis boxes that were found
were undefended. But it doesn't matter, because you can't
take that chance, can you?" Beguin concluded with an
unholy chuckle.
  Everything indicated that the thief's attention was
concentrated solely on the one entrance to the storage
dome and that he suspected nothing. Sulu began his
  44 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  approach, working his way patiently across the
floor using scattered crates and containers for
cover. If anything he was being over-cautious. He
would have been difficult to spot even if Beguin had
been looking for him.
  Very soon he was crouched directly behind the small
wall of piled crates and cylinders Beguin had
shifted for his own protection. Starting immediately he would
have to be extra careful. He wouldn't have any cover
inside the circle of containers.
  He considered his options once again. At such
close quarters, it would be difficult
to miss Beguin with a phaser burst. But there was still the
chance the thief's limp body could fall across the
compacter trigger, so phaser fire remained a last
resort. Somehow he had to find a better way
to get the man away from the compacter controls.
  At first he had been glad of the jumble of
cylinders and crates. They had made his approach
to this point fairly easy. But they no longer served
a useful function. He hoped to find a gap in the
container barricade that he could rush through, but as he
inspected the piled boxes he could find no such
break in the wall. Certainly he couldn't start
pulling crates away. Beguin wouldn't be so
distracted by Spock that he would fail to notice
someone pulling his ramparts down behind him.
  There had to be an opening somewhere in the barricade.
Moving on hands and knees and
  keeping as close to the floor as possible, Sulu
started off to his left. He had circled almost the
entire barricade and was dangerously close
to Beguin himself before deciding that this half of the wall was
impenetrable. The ongoing dialogue between Spock
and the thief formed a surreal ac- companiment to his
explorations.
  Returning, Sulu repeated his search to the
right of his original position, with similar results.
  One place, where the wall was rather low, was the best
he could find. As long as Beguin remained
distracted, there was a chance Sulu could scale the
wall there and reach the
  compacter before the thief could trigger it. Once he
cleared Beguin from the controls, the com
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 45
  motion would bring Spock, Uhura, and the others
running.
  Returning to his chosen spot, Sulu leaned
against the crates and started edging to a standing position,
positioning his right leg for the jump he would have to make.
The conversation had faded, but he would wait until the
arguments resumed before making the leap.
  Sulu's head meanwhile slowly came up and for the
first time he glanced into the center of the circle of
containers[*thorngg'straight into the startled eyes of the
thief! Beguin was gobbling provisions from an opened
storage crate. Both men were
  paralysed for the briefest of seconds.
  Then Beguin whirled, made a dive at the
compacter. Desperately Sulu made a jump for
him, but even the adrenaline suddenly surging through his
body didn't provide him with enough lift
to clear the barrier completely. His right foot caught
on an upthrust cylinder and sent him sprawling to the
floor in a clatter of dislodged crates.
  "Wait," Sulu shouted frantically.
"Don'tr'
  Beguin, his eyes wild, and perhaps temporarily
not sane, was at the compacter. He threw himself onto
the trigger. Voices yelled in the distance as Spock
and the others, having heard Sulu's shout, began
charging the barricade.
  They could not outpace the compacter. With a whirr the
sides of the device engaged, slammed into the stasis
box. A peculiar bone-tingling screech resulted,
like a thin metal point dragging across a piece of
slate. The sound increased until Sulu's teeth
hurt. One edge of the stasis box appeared
to crumple slightly inward. Fascinated, Sulu
could only stare at what might prove to be the
cause of his imminent annihilation.
  He had no place to run to, of course.
  Instinctively he threw an arm across his face
to protect his eyes. But if a disrupter bomb were
presently being engaged within the box, his arm would make
no difference.
  Out of the corner of an eye Sulu saw
something rise from the surfaces of the box. He was
certain the lid hadn't opened and no crack appeared
in the smooth metal sides. There was no explosion,
no sudden disinte
  46 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  "ration of matter within the storage dome. Instead,
there was a short, soundless, actinic dash that
temporarily blinded the helmsman.
  The sound of running feet and anxious voices
reached the barricade, people swarming over it. Someone
bent over Sulu, helped him to his feet.
  "Are you all right, Lieutenant?"
  "Sulu! What happened?"
  He blinked, and tiny suns faded as rods and
cones adjusted to the normal light. Spock and
Uhura were supporting him, one at each arm.
  "I'm okay." He blinked again, rubbed at his
eyes with both hands. "What did happen?" Then he
was staring apologetically at Spock. "I'm
sorry, sir. I couldn't stop him from throwing the
trigger. He was standing right next to me when I looked
inside for him."
  Spock didn't appear angry. On the
contrary, his reply was more curious than reproving.
"It appears not to maker, Mr. Sulu."
The helmsman noticed that the first officer was no
longer looking at him, but instead was staring at something
else nearby. "This stasis box is defended, but not
by a disrupter bomb. It acts only upon those in its
immediate vicinity who try improperly to open it.
Look."
  Sulu finally did so, turning to stare in the same
direction as his superior. The stasis box, to all
outward appearances unaffected, still rested in the
paralyzed jaws of the compacter. One of the scientists
was standing next to the device, which had been turned off,
cautiously inspecting the tightly held box.
  Jaiao Beguin stood nearby, a surprised
  expression on his face. He appeared to be
completely encased in a softly glowing, silvery
material like chrome paint.
  "What happened to him?" Sulu asked, gaping at
the statuelike figure of the thief.
  "It would seem," Spock theorised, "that anyone
who attempts to open this particular stasis box is
promptly enveloped in a stasis box of his own."
  "It's not a fatal method of defence, then," said
Sulu, unable to keep from staring in fascination at the
frozen silvery figure of the unfortunate Beguin.
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 47
  "Not technically, no," Spock agreed. "Our
thief will remain conveniently frozen in time, as would
anything encased by a stasis field, until such a
time as a stasisfield disrupter can be used to release
him safely. It will be quite a useful method of
restraining him until a Federation expedition can
arrive here with a disrupter and release him from his own
field." He added firmly, "At that point he will
be transferred to a less exotic but equally confining
place of imprisonment."
  "If that's all the box does, Mr. Spock,
why can't we try and open it ourselves? The worst that could
happen would be that the opening device or its operator
would also be encased in another stasis field."
Uhura eyed the box excitedly.
  "Not necessarily, Lieutenant," Spock
hastened to correct her. "We do not know by what
method the box's defence system decides on who
is trying to open it improperly. This time it encased
only the immediate operator of the opening device. We
cannot assume that if we attempt the same thing the
box will not decide to encase the entire station. We have
no idea of its limits."
  Uhura looked downcast. "We'll have to wait
to see what's inside it, then."
  Spock nodded. "At least until we rejoin the
ship, Lieutenant. I am certain Engineer
Scott can construct an adequate stasis-field
disrupter." He walked over to the compacter,
exchanged a few words with the scientist inspecting it.
The woman threw a small switch and the sides of the
compacter moved away from the box. Spock
  picked it up. It rested inert and innocent in his
arms. He turned to his two companions.
  "First, we must get to Starbase Twenty-Five
and rendezvous with the ship. The captain and I allowed
ample time for us to reach here, pick up the box, and
make rendezvous, so I do not think our unexpected
delay will be of any consequence. We still have plenty of
time to reach the base before the Enterprise is required
to depart for Briamos. Nevertheless, I wish to get
there as quickly as possible."
  Uhura concurred. "I've got to admit I'll
feel a lot more comfortable back on board myself."
  48 STAR TREK TEN
  "And I'll feel comfortable," Sulu added
fervently, "only when t"[*thorngg'he pointed
at the quiescent cube resting in Spock's
grasp[*thorn)'"...is safely on board the
Enterprise . . ."
  "I want to thank you, Commander," Director
Masid was saying as the three officers prepared
to board their shuttlecraft, "for relieving us of
responsibility for that," and she indicated the stasis
box. "Its potential for causing trouble is too
explosive for us, even if its defensive
mechanism isn't."
  "There is no need to thank us, Director
Masid," Spock replied from his position atop the
boarding ramp. "We were fortunate, and that is no
  substitute for being skilled. We were all lucky
that the box contained something besides a disrupter bomb
to defend itself with. Good-bye for now, and good luck with
your digging."
  "Thanks to you," she murmured as the
  shuttlecraft thundered into the dark sky, "I think
I may be able to enjoy it for a change." She turned
to the car waiting to take her back to her office in the
administration dome.
  It's amazing, she resected, how a reprieve
from expected death can make formerly ordinary work
seem fresh and exciting . . .
  V
  "Captain? Captain Kirrk!"
  Kirk swung the command chair and looked
toward the communication station. "What is it,
Lieutenant M'ress?"
  The Caitian communications officer who had taken
over for the absent Lieutenant Uhura had one paw
pressed to the left side of her head. She was
slightly bent over in her seat and it looked
to Kirk as if she was wincing.
  "What's the matter, Lieutenant? Are you in
pain?" He was immediately concerned.
  STAR TREK LOG 49
  "No, not exactly, sirr. I . . . I'm not
surre what's wrong, but something . . . is. I
feel very peculiarr all of a sudden. Dizzy.
It's almost familiars, like something I've felt
beforre, but . . . I can't place it." She rose
unsteadily in her chair. "I'm afrraid I have
to ask to be excused frrom duty, sirr."
  "You don't have to ask and there's no need
to apologize, Lieutenant. I only hope it's
nothing more than a bad headache."
  "It . . . doesn't feel like a headache,
sirr."
  "Report to Sick Bay immediately," Kirk
ordered her. "Lieutenant Talliflores will
take over for you."
  "Yes, sirr." M'ress made a few
adjustments to the controls on her console, her hands
moving with unaccustomed awkwardness over the familiar
instrumentation.
  At that point Kirk was out of the chair and striding
over to her. "Never mind contacting your relief," he
said, worried. "I'll do that myself. Just get
to Sick Bay. Think you can make it by yourself?"
  "I believe so, sirr."
  Despite her assurance, Kirk helped the
  lieutenant to the turbolift. He left her with a
reassuring smile, which turned instantly to an
expression of troubled concern when the doors closed
behind her.
  Back in the command chair, he activated the
intercom. M'ress's relief was on recreation time
now and probably wouldn't be in his cabin. He set
for shipwide general broadcast.
  "Lieutenant Talliflores, Lieutenant
TaDiflores. Report to the bridge immediately."
  That task concluded, he leaned back and mused
over M'ress's sudden ailment. Why it should trouble
him so, he couldn't say. It was only natural that
occasionally one of his bridge crew should take sick,
despite their usual exemplary
  healthiness. Perhaps it was because M'ress was always so
vibrant and alive. Try as he could, this was the first
time he could recall the
  communications officer falling ill.
  And yet . . . hadn't she indicated that her
symptoms were akin to something she had
  suffered before?
  50 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  He was still mulling over the incident when
Lieutenant Talliflores arrived, worried and
out of breath.
  "I'm sorry, sir, if I[*thorn]"
  "Never mind. There's no problem." Thus
  assured, the swarthy officer. "I'm going to have
to ask you to take over the remainder of Lieutenant
M'ress's shift. You can do double duty until she
returns, Talliflores. Your recreation time will
be accredited accordingly."
  "Yes, sir." Tallifores moved to take up
station at communications. In the middle of his standard
checkout of the instrumentation, it occurred to him to ask why
he was taking M'ress's normal position. "If
I may inquire, sir, is anything wrong?
Lieutenant M'ress and I went sliding only
yesterday. I didn't notice anything
wrong with her."
  "She complained of not feeling well, and of being
dizzy." Kirk offered the officer reassurance he
couldn't feel himself. "Probably just a headache.
It didn't seem serious, Lieutenant. I
expect her back before her shift is up."
  "That's good to hear, sir." Tallifiores
looked relieved. He was a close friend of both
M'ress and Uhura. That was only natural since
they shared the same station, performed identical duties
on different shifts.
  But after several hours had passed without the
reappearance of M'ress, Kirk felt compelled
to check on her condition. He thumbed the
  intercom.
  "Sick Bay, this is the captain speaking."
  "Sick Bay, Nurse Chapel speaking."
  "How is Lieutenant M'ress, Chapel?"
  There was a brief pause before McCoy's
  assistant replied. "Fine, as far as I know,
Captain. Why?"
  Now it was Kirk's turn to hesitate. Something
was wrong here. "What do you mean, 'As far as I
know"?" he finally replied. "What was wrong with
herd Or hasn't Bones made a
diagnosis yet?"
  "Diagnosis, sir? As far as I know Dr.
McCoy hasn't seen Lieutenant M'ress
except in the officers' mess or maybe in the
recreation section."
  Chapel's tone turned abruptly from one of
puzzlement to concern. "Why, is
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 51
  something wrong with her? If there is, this is the first
I've heard of it."
  Lieutenant Arex glanced back from his place
at the navigation-helm. His quizzical stare was
matched by that of lieutenant Vedama, who looked
over from the science station.
  "Chapel," Kirk finally asked, "didn't
Lieutenant M'ress report for treatment of a
mild cerebral disorder?" He checked his
command-chair
  chronometer. She ought to have been in Sick Bay
for several hours by now."
  "Just one moment, sir. I haven't been here
long. Let me check today's records." There was a
pause while Kirk fidgeted impatiently at the
delay
  "No, sir," Chapel eventually informed
him. "I see no record of Lieutenant
M'ress checking in for observation or any other
reason. I believe I[*thorngg'Just a moment,
sir."
  A new voice sounded over the intercom. "Jim,
what's this about Lieutenant M'ress?"
  "Bones, M'ress left the bridge over three
hours ago. She was complaining of dizziness and other
unidentifiable difficulties. She was having
difficulty her equipment, but she insisted she could
make it down to Sick Bay on her own." He
took a deep breath. "Apparently she couldn't."
  "It doesn't look that way, Jim. I just
came on duty myself. I haven't seen her and if
Chapel says the records don't show her checking
in, well, then she didn't check in."
  "That's bad. Hang on a minute, Bones."
Kirk turned to communications. "Lieutenant
  Talliflores, give me security in the
officer's section, Deck Five."
Tallifiores did so.
  "Security Deck Five, Ensign Atete
speaking."
  "Ensign, this is the captain. Lieutenant
M'ress is missing. Check her cabin.
You have permission to break the lock seal if necessary,
to enter."
  "Yes, sir," the ensign responded alertly.
"A mo- ment."
  There was a wait, first while the lieutenant
checked to make certain it was indeed Kirk who was
speaking
  52 STAR TREK TEN
  to him, and then a longer one while he
  performed the necessary check.
  "No, sir," he finally reported back, "the
lieutenant is not in her cabin."
  "She may be ill," Kirk told him. "It's
possible she fell behind something."
  "I made a thorough check, sir. She's nowhere
in her quarters."
  "Thank you, Atete. Bridge out."
  Kirk switched back to his chair
communicator, where Sick Bay was waiting on
hold. "Bones, she's not in her quarters."
  "You said she complained of dizziness and that she had
trouble with her instruments, Jim," McCoy repeated
carefully. "Did she seem to be in pain?"
  "I couldn't tell, but if she was she didn't
complain about it," was the captain's reply.
"She just said she was feeling peculiar, and that she thought
it was familiar. I'd say she was as much confused as
sick."
  "It doesn't sound like a headache, Jim. I
could be wrong. I hope I am wrong. I'll
check our Caitian references. The important
thing is to find her. If she's Iying unconscious
in a corridor somewhere . . . Let's hope she's
just sitting somewhere in a daze."
  "I'm going to find out, Bones. Stand by at your
end." He faced communications. "Lieutenant
Talliflores, give me shipwide broadcast."
  "Aye, sir." Talliflores adjusted
controls, then signaled to Kirk, who directed his
voice to the commandchair pickup.
  "Attention, all personnel. Lieutenant
M'ress of communications was scheduled to report
to Sick Bay some time ago. She did not do so. The
lieutenant was suffering from dizziness and possibly more
severe disorder as well. Lieutenant, if you hear
this and can respond, please go immediately to the nearest
communicator and check in with either the bridge or
Sick Bay. If you are unable to respond
verbally, try to make yourself visible.
  "While not neglecting your assigned
duties, all personnel are requested to keep an
eye out for lieutenant
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 53
  M'ress and to notify Sick Bay as to her
location and condition upon seeing her."
  He switched off general broadcast, spoke
to Sick Bay again. "Unless she's hidden herself
somewhere, Bones, that should find her for us quickly."
  "I hope so, Jim," the Enterprise's chief
physician replied slowly. "It doesn't sound
serious . . . yet. But it sure sounds peculiar.
Sick Bay out."
  "Funny," Kirk mused after McCoy had
clicked off, "that's exactly how M'ress
described it . . ."
  In a quiet section of the small forest that formed part
of the Enterprise's recreational area on Deck
Eight, a strolling off-duty food technician
paused to listen to the Captain's urgent message
even as he was curiously eyeing an indistinct form
crouching behind a large shrub in front of him,
slightly off the main pathway.
  As soon as the message ended, he walked toward
the bush. "Hey, you there!" The form didn't move out
into the open. The technician continued walking
toward the bush.
  "Say, aren't you Lieutenant M'ress?" he
inquired when he got near enough to make out the
individual's outline. "Didn't you hear the
captain?" Still the figure gave no sign of
moving. "You're supposed to report in immediately."
  Uncertainty gave way to sudden concern. "They
said you were supposed to report to Sick Bay. Are
you all right, Lieutenant? Can I help?"
  He reached out a hand toward the figure. "I said,
do you need any[*thorn]"
  Rising in one motion, the figure spun
violently on the startled crewman. Wide, glaring
cat eyes blazed at him, nostrils flared
widely, and the slim figure was puffed to more than
normal size. It was not the appearance the
technician expected from a ranking officer.
  Slowly he took a step backward, away from the
heavily breathing figure. "Now take it easy, just
slow down a moment, ma'am. If you've got some
kind of sickness or something . . . I don't think
I'd better[*thorn]"
  The technician whirled, turned to run. His mouth
opened as he framed a call for help. As it
developed,
  54 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  he managed neither a shout nor retreat.
  Lieutenant M'ress fairly exploded off the
grass. As she landed on the man's back her hands
went around his neck and both squirming, struggling
shapes fell hard to the ground.
  Vl
  Like a dull white copepod swimming in some
unimaginably vast ocean's black depths, the
shuttlecraft Copernicus raced for Starbase
Twenty-Five and its rendezvous with the
  Enterprise. Within the shuttle's control room the
Slaver stasis box, fifty centimeters on each
side but considerably larger in import, gleamed
metallically in the center of the single rest table.
  Spock was pacing back and forth near the table while
Sulu manned the tiny craft's controls. Uhura
stood near him, staring out the fore port at the slowly
changing panorama spread out ahead of them.
  They were back on schedule, which meant they had
plenty of time to reach the Starbase before the Enterprise
was required to leave for Briamos. But that was small
comfort to Spock. He was regretting every hour of the
learning sessions Kirk must be attending on
Briamos and its inhabitants, sorry for
every detail he was not present to absorb firsthand.
  In addition, he was as anxious as Uhura and
Sulu to learn what the enigmatic stasis box
contained. Only on board the Enterprise could he and
Engineer Scott assemble a proper stasis
disrupter for safely opening the ancient
  container.
  Bored with the view forward, Uhura turned to the
less spectacular but more intriguing object resting
on the table. She gazed speculatively at the
box. With ample time to do nothing but reflect on
what it might contain, she had managed to conjure any
number of incredible wonders[*thorngg'though they were
wonders no larger than fifty centimeters on a
side.
  Inside that unimpressive cube of metal time
had
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 55
  stood still for perhaps a billion years. Certainly
whatever relics lay so magnificently preserved
had to be valuable, as the contents of stasis boxes
usually were. And maybe dangerous as well, as they
often were. She no longer had any doubts about the
value of whatever lay inside. The box's unique
method of protecting itself all but stated that
something inside was well worth defending from the casually
curious.
  Spock was making notations in his pocket
recorder when he noticed Uhura's stare.
  "Speculation is no less intriguing for usually
being inaccurate, Lieutenant."
  "I was wondering what might be inside, Mr.
Spock. I know a little about the Slaver Empire,
but not enough to make an accurate guess."
  "You have a great deal of company,
  Lieutenant," the first officer assured her.
"Our entire store of information concerning the empire
of the Slavers is sketchy at best. We know that they
were masters of all the intelligent life in this part of the
galaxy a billion years ago. That is a long
time for anything in the way of reliable information to have
survived. It's hardly surprising that so little
has."
  "Masters of the galaxy until a billion years
ago . . ." Uhura murmured wonderingly.
"Until one race finally mounted a successful
revolt. It must have been a time of chaos." Her
gaze went from Spock back to the stasis box.
"Are these the only sources of information we have about their
empire?"
  Spock turned away, eyed the blaze of stars
forward. "The only factual ones. Even rumors
die in that length of time. But we have learned a little."
  Uhura turned to listen, moved forward again. In
doing so, she missed the sudden appearance of a
slightly blue glow that materialised around the box.
Its teardrop shape was silent. The tip of the
azure halo pointed forward.
  "The Slavers," Spock declared, ignorant of the
mysterious aura which had enveloped the box behind him,
"and all their subjects were
  exterminated in the war that followed that cons-old
revolt. Intelligent life had to evolve all
over again in this part of the galaxy." He fell
silent, thoughtful. "So far," he eventually added,
"the
  56 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  stasis boxes are the only remnants we've
been able to find of those many lost and doubtless great
civilizations."
  He frowned, noticed Uhura staring as if
mesmerized behind him. "Something wrong,
  Lieutenant."
  By way of answer, she pointed. "Why is it
glowing like that? It wasn't doing that before."
  Spock whirled and saw for the first time the
unmistakable aura which had encapsulated the box.
Moving to his right, he noted its shape, let his
gaze travel naturally from the point of the teardrop
shape back out the front port. Ahead and drifting
slowly to starboard was an
  impressively radiating spiral, a stellar
object sufficiently spectacular that it had to be
on the charts. He thought he recognized it.
  His attention turned back to the no-longer-inert
stasis box. The point of the teardrop, he was con-
vinced, was not stable but instead was shifting slowly. Not
unexpectedly, it was changing to a starboard
direction.
  "Mr. Sulu, what is our current position?"
  Sulu executed a fast check of his instruments and
glanced back over a shoulder as he spoke.
"Passing Beta Lyrae, sir. One hundred and
forty-two degrees northeast of the galactic
plane."
  At this point he noticed the glowing blue cloud
enveloping the box. "Where did that come from?"
  The point of the blue aura was still moving steadily
to starboard, tracking the changing position of Beta
Lyrae as efficiently as any instrument.
  "We do not know where it comes from or how the box
produces it, Mr. Sulu, but it is not a
unique phenomenon. I have heard of such a thing
happening before. Most unexpected and most
fortuitous."
  "Fortuitous? I don't understand." The helmsman
looked understandably confused.
  "The motion of the blue aura surrounding our box,"
Spock explained, "would indicate that there is
another stasis box orbiting Beta Lyrae."
  Uhura was equally new to the phenomenon
described by Spock. "Another one!"
  Spock appeared baffled, almost hesitant
to answer.
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 57
  "It is, as I said, unexpected. Your
surprise is well justified, Lieutenant
Uhura. It seems most illogical for a stasis
box to remain in this vicinity, undiscovered, for so
long. Beta Lyrae is one of the most impressive
sights and one of the rarest in the explored galaxy.
Every ship that passes by would likely slow to observe and
enjoy its spectacle at leisure.
  "Still, the only known stasis-box detector is
another stasis box. Detection is,
obviously, by means of that blue aura. Perhaps none
of the many vessels passing Beta Lyrae possessed
a stasis box. But given the number of observers,
both casual and scientific, who must have spent a
good deal of time this vicinity, I confess to being
puzzled that a stasis box's peculiar characteristics have
remained undiscovered for so long."
  He broke off to take another look at the
glowing box. By now the point of the teardrop had
shifted around to a position facing forty-five
degrees aft of the shuttle. Rapidly, he
considered the time and date, made some hasty
calculations. As important as it was for all three
of them to attend the Briamosite briefings at
Starbase 25, this was something that they could not ignore.
While their presence at the pre-conference briefings was
desirable, it was not critical.
  "Mr. Sulu . . ." he began, reaching an
inevitable decision once all the relevant facts
had been considered.
  Sulu glanced back at him hopefully.
"Yes, sir?" That was all he said. No
suggestions were offered, no arguments presented. They
weren't necessary. Spock could tell by the expressions
on their faces how the two other officers
felt. Not that they influenced his decision. His new
orders were based solely, as always, on logic.
  "Bring us about," he directed the helmsman,
ful- filling the latter's hopes. "We will
investigate the Beta Lyrae system and attempt
to locate the source of the activity affecting our own
stasis box."
  Sulu couldn't repress a pleased smile.
"Aye, aye, sir."
  Coming around in a tight arc, the Copernicus slowed
and plunged deep into the double-star system of Beta
Lyrae.
  58 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  Under Spock's direction, made after a careful
study of the shifting stasis box aura, Sulu brought
the little ship close in. The closeup view of the
unusual binary was as awesome and beautiful as anything
in the galaxy. Their viewport was filled with the
nebulous yellow giant star, which was the most obvious
feature of the system. It was somewhat flattened by the
force of gravity and rotation. A line of fiery red
hydrogen joined it to its smaller companion, a
brilliant dwarf star that shone like a sapphire
cabochon. A whirlpool of thin crimson like a
streamer of fringed crepe spread out from the
blue star in an expanding spiral. The hydrogen
faded from pigeon-blood red to dull maroon to a
smoky blackness. Even the blackness announced its
presence by blotting out the stars lying behind it.
  "It's a beautiful universe," Uhura
murmured as she drank in the overpowering sight, "and a
varied one."
  "The beauty's in the variety," Sulu added,
equally entranced.
  Spock was talking less poetically into his
recorder and did not comment so blatantly on Beta
Lyrae's attraction, though he admired it as
well. Besides its obvious chromatic effects, there
was an inherent attractiveness in the order and balance
of gravitational and other forces, in the precision of the
system's mathematics. Nor was that view
exclusively Vulcan. Many human
  scientists would have found the physical con-
struction of the binary more impressive than its mere
visual appearance.
  At the moment he was explaining their course into his
recorder. "Stasis boxes and their contents are the
only remnant of a species powerful enough to have ruled,
once, an entire section of our galaxy," he
dictated. "Their effect on our sciences
has been incalculable. In one box was found the
flying belt which was the key to the artificial gravity
field presently employed on starships.
  "Hence my decision to forgo the briefings
preparatory to the conference on Briamos in favor
of pursuing a positive lead to another such box in
the Beta Lyrae system." He clicked off, put
the recorder aside. They were moving near to the
object that the Coperr tilde icus tilde s
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 59
  compact but efficient instrumentation had long since
located.
  It was a frozen, almost airless world, a dull
white globe too far out to receive appreciable warmth
from either of the twin suns. It was as ordinary and
unimpressive as the binary was stupendous. In any
case, they were not searching for life or a world
to colonize but, instead, for another of the Slavers'
valuable bequests, the box which was simultaneously
inheritance and
  tombstone.
  "Beginning final approach," Sulu announced
mechanically, "preparatory to orbital insertion."
  Soon they were circling the equator of the chill
planet. Measurements indicated that in
  comparison to the surface rotating beneath them,
Earth's most inhospitable tundra was a vision of
Elysium and its South Pole a veritable
paradise.
  "Now, Mr. Sulu."
  The helmsman didn't have to look behind him. He
knew that the point of the teardrop aura must be stabbing
straight down through the mess table.
  "Commence landing approach," Spock continued
formally. "Try to take us down in as tight a
descending spiral as you can, Lieutenant."
  "I'll do my best, sir," Sulu assured
him, his attention riveted on his readouts and
controls.
  "That will minimize our searching," Spock informed
them, "if we can keep the point of the aura
perfectly perpendicular with the surface below us. The
second stasis box should be directly under us when
we land, or at the very least within walking distance." He
moved to stand by the front port.
  "If the box is out in the open, visual
  identification before we touch down is vital. We
must take care in that event not to set down on top
of the box. In addition to the inconvenience, the box
mechanism might interpret our touchdown as
an attempt at opening it improperly. We could
conceivably find ourselves in the position of our boxed
thief back on Gruyakin Six."
  "Don't worry, sir," Sulu replied
tersely. "I have no intention of standing around for the next
billion years,
  60 STAR TREK LOG
  no matter how healthy or well-preserved a
stasis field keeps me."
  They dropped through the thin, almost
  nonexistent atmosphere. Sulu brought the
shuttle to a smooth stop on a jumbled, frozen
plain. Spock assured him they had not set down
on the box itself. At the last moment the point of the
teardrop had shifted slightly to port, indicating
that they would land clear of it.
  Faint wisps of as-yet-unidentified gases
drifted overhead, the only indication that anything lay
between the roof of the shuttlecraft and the killing emptiness
of interstellar space.
  Spock walked back to the stasis box as the
helmsman cut the engines. He studied it
intently. "What would you say, Lieutenant
Uhura?"
  She bent over, stared beneath the table where the
point of the blue aura penetrated. "It's
certainly not pointing straight down. I'd say it's
inclined slightly in . . . that direction." She
rose and pointed.
  "I agree." Spock moved forward and stared hard
out the port in the direction the aura point
indicated. "Yet . . . I see no sign of
another box, at least not nearby. It is there,
however. This is not surprising, in view of the
unevenness of the terrain. Life-support belts."
  They moved to the single large storage locker,
slipped the belts around their waists. Spock
checked Uhura and Sulu's belt operation with a
compact device taken from the locker. Then Sulu
checked Spock and Uhura; and then it was
  Uhura's turn. Thus doublechecked and assured
that all systems were functioning properly, the three
officers entered the Coperrucus's airlock, each
encased in a lime-yellow aura no denser than the
mysterious blue one surrounding the stasis box they
had taken with them.
  Sulu and Uhura each had their phasers out and
ready[*thorngg'a standard precaution. They had had
little time for pre-inspection of this world and experience had
shown that a planet which seemed devoid of
life could often provide as many unpleasant
surprises as a far more fertile and hospitable
globe. Spock was carrying the stasis box,
flanked on the right by Uhura and by Sulu on the
left. The blue aura now pointed straight
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 61
  ahead. The lock cycled, and a brief puff of
unreclaimed air escaped into the alienness beyond.
  The three exited into a frozen hell. They saw
no hint of any life, malignant or otherwise.
Not a plant, not an insect, only an icy plain
bordered by rippling, jagged hills and distant
mountains of ice-bound stone that had likely never
felt the weak warmth of the distant binary. It was
difficult for any world orbiting a twin sun
to support life, due to the often erratic nature
of its planetary orbit. The frozen emptiness of
Beta Lyrae I appeared to be no exception.
  As they walked across the ice-covered ground the glow
from the stasis box in Spock's arms intensified,
turned almost azure. In contrast, the lime-yellow
halos projected by their life-support belts
remained constant. As always, Uhura reflected on
how feebly inadequate these seemed, to be the only
thing holding back the monstrous cold and
airlessness pressing tight around them.
  In many ways the stark, dead landscape they were
crossing was more forbidding than empty space. The
interstellar void was merely sterile, while the
corpse of a world on which life could exist, given a
few changes in atmosphere and location, was almost
palpably threatening.
  Uhura was not afraid to give voice to her
feelings. Besides, it was reassuring to hear another
voice in that desolation, even if Spock and Sulu
were right next to her. "I never did like these barren little
worlds. They always make me feel as if I'm
walking on one huge grave."
  "We're not tourists here, Lieutenant,"
Spock commented firmly. "Kindly keep your mind
on the business at hand."
  Uhura bristled at the harshness of the
  reprimand. However, Spock's intention had not
been to reprimand her but only to take her mind off the
depressing landscape surrounding them, which he succeeded
efficiently in doing.
  "Mr. Spock?" Sulu stepped lightly over
a miniature crevasse. "If it takes one
stasis box to find another stasis box, how did
they find the very first one?"
  62 STAR TREK too TEN
  "I would like to say that its presence was deduced,
Lieutenant Sulu. I would like to relate that it was
discovered after a great deal of study based on
material carefully assimilated by a number of
highly competent researchers utilizing the most
modern technology. However," he
  continued drily, "that is not what happened.
  "The first Slaver stasis box was discovered the
same way as so many truly unique phenomena
are[*thorn)'"accident." He turned slightly
to his left, following the compass point of the blue
aura toward a low rise topped with freshly
cracked ice.
  They mounted the rise. Spock halted, retraced
his steps several meters, moved a little to his right.
At that point the apex of the blue glow jabbed
straight down. All that lay visible below their feet
was hard-packed frozen gas and water vapor.
Sulu pushed at the surface with a
  life-support, aura-shielded boot.
  "The other box appears to be almost under us, or at
least very close by," Spock announced. "If I
recall correctly what is known about the
  inter-stasis box relationship, then
judging from the hue and sharpness of the field this one is
projecting," and he motioned with the stasis box in his
hands, "I would guess that the other lies perhaps thirty
meters below us. Considering," and he indicated the
surrounding tortured topography, "the evidence of
violent tectonic disturbances in this region, that
is hardly surprising. We should be grateful the
box is buried no deeper than it is."
  Sulu was adjusting his phaser setting as he
spoke. "In that case it shouldn't be too long before
we can dig it out, especially if this is mostly ice
beneath us." He finished setting the phaser, pointed it
downward. "In this low pressure the ice should boil
away as soon as our phasers melt it, and on this
low a setting"[*thorngg'he indicated his own
weapon[*thorn)'"...we don't run any risk of
  damaging the box. We ought to be able
to[*thorn]"
  He stumbled as the ground heaved. A violent
explosion burst the surface behind them, sending ice
fragments flying. Stunned, they turned as soon as
they could recover their balance. Uhura remembered
what
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 63
  Spock had said about severe earth
disturbances in this region.
  But the explosion had been too localized for a
quake, too modest for a volcano, and it was immediately
apparent that the cause was artificial in nature.
A concealed tunnel or cave had appeared in the
ice. A half-dozen space-suited figures
flew toward them from the opening, propulsive
backpacks powering them toward the three shocked
officers.
  Sulu caught a glimpse of who wore those
suits and knew instantly he would have preferred a
volcano.
  Each suited figure was a little over two and a
half meters long. Their pressure suits were
armored to withstand both phaser charges and solid-core
weaponry. The bubble helmets topping the suits were
fully transparent. The suits themselves could have been
designed to
  accommodate human beings, save for their
  unusual size and the long, twisting segmented
sections which extended from the base of the spine. They
indicated tailed creatures.
  Only one known race fitted those particular
proportions.
  "Kzinti!" Uhura, crouching and raising
her phaser simultaneously, let go a blast. The
energy charge glanced harmlessly off the armored suit
of the nearest alien.
  Another of the Kzinti fired at Sulu. There was
a flare of darker light against his life-support
aura.
  The aliens had surrounded them. One landed just behind the
helmsman, tried to lock massive arms around him.
Sulu slipped partially clear, wrestling
desperately with his much larger opponent.
  Behind the helmet a startlingly feline face stared
angrily down at him. The alien tried to pin
Sulu's arms while keeping a grip on its
phaser, a standard-issue Federation weapon which looked
grotesquely tmy in an armored, four-digited
paw that could easily have enclosed both of Sulu's
hands. Bright pink ears that resembled the amputated
wings of some tiny flying creature fluttered on the
alien's head as it battled in frustration to secure
a binding grip on its smaller but agile
opponent.
  64 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  Despite Sulu's agility, this was a fight which
could have only one outcome, since the three Federation
officers were both outsized and outnumbered
by their alien attackers.
  Two other Kzinti landed behind Sulu, and he was
unable to avoid them all. They soon had him pinned
between them.
  Just before one phaser blast partially
  penetrated her life-support aura and knocked
her unconscious to the chin surface, Uhura was
certain she glimpsed Spock standing calmly
nearby, watching the fight. He still held the stasis
box in both hands, instead of a working phaser.
  As she fell, she saw him handing the invaluable
stasis box to one of the huge Kzinti. Her mind
refused to accept the evidence of her eyes. The
impossible thought that Spock could be a coward or
worse occurred to her as the alien
  environment her life-support aura held at
bay seemed to close in tight around and blot all
thinking and speculation from her mind.
  Sulu had been phaser-stunned when he refused
an order to stop struggling. Now the Kzinti muttered
among themselves, their attention shifting constantly from the
stasis box to the two crumpled humans. They
kept a watchful eye or two on Spock. The
Vulcan made no move to
  resist when one of them asked gruffly
over his helmet frequency for the phaser the officer still
wore at his waist. Spock handed it over as
docilely as he had the stasis box.
  Once their last possible opponent had been
rendered helpless, the aliens relaxed a little.
Spock took the opportunity to study the
  motionless forms of his companions. Both Sulu and
Uhura seemed to be breathing regularly. Their
lime-yellow auras remained intact and strong,
indicating that the belt mechanisms hadn't been
damaged. That meant they were in no
  immediate danger. Their life-support belts would
sense the change in their metabolisms and adjust
accordingly, just as they would if the two officers had fallen
asleep instead of having been stunned
into unconsciousness.
  Spock's thoughts were mixed but steady as always when,
by gesturing, the Kzinti indicated he should
  STAR TREK LOG 65
  move toward the tunnel they had appeared from so
unexpectedly. Other Kzinti hefted the
  unconscious forms of Uhura and Sulu, while
one more picked up the coveted stasis box. There was
a good deal of recognizable chortling over the
prize, which indicated the presence of something
far more elaborate than a casual trap.
  A short march down a phaser-cut tunnel
  brought the party to an open airlock. One Kzinti
gave Spock an ungentle shove into the open
chamber. The first officer made no protest, offered
not even a hint of displeasure at the rough treatment.
  It took three cycles for every member of the group
to be transferred into the fresh air of the Kzinti
ship. The design of the lock and numerous other
aspects of construction immediately indicated to Spock
that they were boarding a vessel, and not a totally
unfamiliar one at that. But then, most of Kzinti
technology was derivative of Federation or
Klingon engineering.
  Further marching through the powerfully scented a*
brought the party to what appeared to be a crew ready
room. In keeping with the requirements of Kzinti
physiology, the room was huge by Federation standards.
An oddly shaped table large enough for several Kzinti
to sit comfortably around dominated the center of the room.
Lockers and instrument panels lined one entire
wall. Again, nothing was remarkable about the instrumentation.
Much of it looked familiar, although altered in some
cases to accommodate the size of the Kzinti hand.
  Gently, almost reverently, a Kzinti
put the stasis box onto the massive central
table. The rest of the group gathered around and began an
animated discussion of their booty.
  Spock watched them silently, occasionally
glancing sideways at Uhura and Sulu to make
certain their condition didn't suddenly take a
change for the worse. In his own mind he had already
taken full responsibility for the catastrophe.
But that was unfair, as any outside observer would have
insisted.
  True, he had pointed out the unusual
  circumstance of another undiscovered stasis box
Iying within an oft
  66 STAR TRBR L tilde TEN
  visited system like Beta Lyrae. He should have
exercised greater caution in their search for the second
box, should have seen the clues to the Kzinti presence
even though they were concealed beyond the detecting ability of
any mortal.
  Kirk would have been the first to point out that Spock
had no choice but to pursue the possible existence of the
second box, and that he could not possibly have foreseen
or guessed at the presence of the waiting Kzinti.
But Spock was ever more critical of his actions than
anyone else could be.
  But an event detrimental to the interests of the
Federation had occurred as a result of his decisions.
He was guilty and condemned[*thorngg'unless the
error could somehow, unlikely as that seemed, still be
rectified before permanent damage was done. The
Kzinti possessed the stasis box he and the others
had traveled so fast and far to pick up. Its
contents now became
  doubly important. Not only would they not be used
to benefit the peoples of the Federation, but in the hands
of the belligerent Kzinti they could be employed to bring
only harm.
  How much harm depended on the exact nature of
those contents.
  Spock was anxious to see inside. He had a
perverse desire to know exactly how much
  damage his actions had caused the people of the Federation
and the Federation itself.
  A human experiencing the same thoughts
  might have screamed and damned himself,
  begging for his captors to shoot him in
  punishment for his mistake. Spock merely stood
quietly. He faced the theft of the box as calmly
as he had its acquisition. An observer would not be
able to tell from his demeanor that the Kzinti
had even arrived. Only his mind was operating much
faster than before, and that was not visible.
  Moans came from nearby. Sulu and Uhura
  were beginning to stir, recovering from the stun effects
of the phasers. As soon as they were able to stand by themselves,
a pair of Kzinti moved to assist them roughly in
rising all the way. They escorted both groggy
officers
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 67
  over to Spock and left them standing next to the first of
ficer.
  Spock had already noted the surface on which he
had been directed to stand, and on which Sulu and
Uhura now swayed unsteadily. Roughly five
square meters of a thick metal mesh, it resembled
a carpet woven of steel instead of fiber. He had
recognized it as soon as they'd entered the large
room. It was a police web, one identical to those
used by Federation authorities for restraining
prisoners without damaging them. The webs were portable
and much simpler to maintain than an energy- or
solid-barrier cubicle. When not needed, the jail
"cell" could simply be rolled up and tucked away
in a locker somewhere.
  His observation was immediately confirmed. A
Kzin nearby touched a wall control. Spock
instantly felt himself paralyzed from the shoulders down.
The force field generated by the mesh held him as
firmly as any visibly bonds. The field was
strong enough to retard perspiration in a prisoner, but
given the cool climate of the ready room and the fact
that their incarceration was likely to be brief, he
didn't expect that would be a problem. As a
bonus, the field kept the still unsteady Uhura and
Sulu from falling over.
  It took an effort, but Spock managed to turn
his head enough to see his companions. They were beginning
to regain full control of their nervous systems,
including their minds. When they came around completely
there would be questions, and Spock prepared himself for some
awkward ones.
  Uhura blinked, tried to take a step toward
him, and found she was unable to move so much as a toe.
Her head also came around slowly. "Mr. Spock
. . . where are we?"
  "Inside a Kzinti spacecraft,
Lieutenant. Of what size and capability I have
been unable to determine."
  "Just a minute." Sulu was taking in their
surroundings, eyeing the cluster of arguing
Kzinti around the table. "Something doesn't make
sense here[*thorngg'Wait, I remember now.
Kzinti aren't
  supposed to have hand phasers, let alone space
armor. Where did they get
  68 STAR TREK LOG TON
  those weapons?" He gestured at the nearest Kzin
and the pair of phasers slung at its hips.
  "I don't know, Mr. Sulu, but you are quite right
about their possession of weapons." Spock recited,
"The Treaty of Sirius does not permit them any
weapons capabilities at all, beyond the operation
of a few police vessels. Obviously, the
treaty has been broken."
  The Kzinti left the room, still growling and
grunting among themselves.
  "This severe violation must be reported," Spock
went on, "as soon as we reach Starbase
  Twenty-Five."
  Sulu's expression was more eloquent than words,
as if to say, You mean, if we reach Starbase
Twenty-Five. But he didn't say that. Instead,
his attention shifted to the grated surface they were standing
on.
  "Police web. We won't be able to do
anything unless we can turn it off somehow."
  They were left alone to discuss their plight for some
time, before equipment-laden Kzinti
  re-entered the room. Under the direction of one
Kzin with engineer's markings they deposited the
equipment around the central table.
  Devoid of their pressure suits they looked a
lot like plump orange cats, save for their
fanlike ears and the furless, pink, ratlike tail
that twitched and moved restlessly behind each of them.
Each was of considerable bulk, and an unmistakable,
if feral, gleam of intelligence shone behind every pair
of blazing yellow eyes.
  As they chattered among themselves and
  moved equipment and instrumentation about, Spock
concentrated on noting differences
  between individuals. For the most part these were slight.
One Kzin had a bright patch of white on its
nose. Another's fur was colored to form a pair of
dark stripes over both eyes. These minor
differences made the startling appearance of the last Kzin
to enter the room all the more striking. In contrast to the
healthy, robust girth of its companions, the
newcomer was thin[*thorngg'downright scrawny.
Instead of twitching restlessly about, its
tail drooped to drag listlessly on the deck, and the
pink batlike ears curled
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 69
  flat against the head as though soaked by a month's
rain.
  Along all of one flank, the dense orange
fur was twisted and matted beyond combing, as if the Kzin
slept exclusively on the same side and never
moved. The fur resembled the gnarled hair of a
dog, repeatedly washed and dried, who broke the
cycle by rolling in mud. Nor was the expression of the
newcomer normal. Instead of the other Kzinti's
usual fierce or proud demeanor, this one wore a
look of perpetual disillusionment.
  Uhura decided that the scrawny arrival was either
dreadfully unhappy or haunted by some
as-yet-unknown affliction. "What are they up to now,
Mr. Spock?" She gestured with her head at the
compact but complex machine that was being erected
alongside the central table. "What's that?"
  "I cannot be positive." Spock had to raise his
voice to make himself audible over the increasing yowls
and "rumblings of the orange-colored assembly.
"But from the haste and excitement with which they are
supervising the construction of the device, I
would guess that despite differences in design and
crudeness of engineer- ing, it is a stasis-field
nullifier."
  "They're going to try to open the box, then, and
there's nothing we can do to stop them." Sulu was
simultaneously angry and downcast.
  "It is the logical thing to do[*thorngg'and you
needn't whisper, Lieutenant. At the moment they
seem to have absolutely no interest in us. So we can
talk normally, without much fear of being abused, although
a certain amount of caution in what we discuss would be
advisable."
  He gestured with his head toward the far side of the
room. "You see the lean, bedraggled Kzin, the last
one to enter the chamber?"
  "You mean the one back there in the corner?"
Uhura asked.
  "Yes. He is a reader of minds, a
telepath."
  "I thought I'd heard something about that."
  Ubura looked satisfied. "I remember
reading that all Kzinti telepaths were unhappy
neurotics who'd just as soon
  70 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  not have their special talents." She
nodded ruefully. "That one sure fits the
description. What a miserablelooking creature."
At her last words, the telepath cringed. That also was
typical of his condition. A normal Kzin so
slighted would be on top of Uhura by now, frothing
at the mouth.
  Spock warned them again. "There is no sure way
to guard our thoughts from him. Orally we can say what
we wish, but mentally we must be constantly on
guard." He paused a moment, thoughtful, then added,
"Lieutenant Sulu, the telepath is not likely
to concentrate much on Lieutenant Uhura or
myself. For different reasons, she and I are considered
by the Kzinti to be inferior beings.
  "It will be helpful to keep in mind that the Kzinti
are meat-eaters. If you sense that ugly one probing
your thoughts, there are better things to concentrate on
besides visions of resistance or hate. I believe it
would be more effective if you were to concentrate at such
moments on enjoying a raw vegetable. The thought of
eating anything not-meat is repulsive in the
extreme to a Kzin. Even the most perceptive
among them cannot think rationally if afflicted with
overpowering nausea, and I expect that to hold true
for telepaths as well."
  "Yes, sir. I'll concentrate on wallowing in
salad." Sulu looked pleased at the thought.
"Maybe I can goad them into revealing
  something of their intentions, besides opening the stasis
box, of course."
  "There is one other things we should all keep in
mind." Spock fought his own neck muscles in
order to turn his head to look at the Enterprise's
chief communications officer. "Lieutenant
Uhura, what I am about to say may be
critical, and it will be difficult to comply with.
While we are in the presence of the Kzinti, do not
say anything, do not suggest anything, do not do anything
  inventive. You must strive to look harmless,
ignorant, virtually inanimate."
  "Any special reason, sir?"
  "Are you forgetting that Kzinti females are no more
than dumb animals?" Spock tried to tell
whether or not the scraggly Kzin telepath was
concentrating on him, then decided that if anything he
was still wholly abet
  STAR TREK TEN 71
  sorbed with monitoring his fellows and possibly
also Sulu.
  "In an emergency," he reminded
Uhura, "the Kzinti may forget that a human
female is an intelligent creature, capable of
original thought and activities beyond the merely
instinctive ones of eating and sleeping."
  "Thanks," snapped Uhura. "Thanks a
lot, sir."
  Spock was patient. The lieutenant's gut
reaction was only to be expected. "Lieutenant
Uhura, I value your intelligence highly. So
does Lieutenant Sulu, and everyone else on
board the Enterprise. But we may be able to seize
an opportunity to escape if the Kzinti believe
you have none. This is not a time for emotional reactions.
Let the Kzinti react emotionally, as they are
inclined to do. Our chances lie in calculation and
reason . . . and in being ready."
  Uhura replied much more softly this time. "Yes
sir . . . You're right, of course." She smiled
a dangerous little smile. "Don't worry. I'll
do my damnedest to convince our captors that I'm
nothing more than an automaton."
  V11
  Kirk moved continually between the command chair, the
science station, and the helm-navigation console. Under the
guise of inspecting readouts and information,
he was really disguising his nervousness. Having places
to walk to concealed the fact that he was in a mood
to pace the floor.
  Another distraction was me lay thing he needed.
He should have been able to concentrate all his attention
on the upcoming conference, save for wondering how
Spock, Sulu, and Uhura were progressing in their
expedition to pick up the Slaver stasis box. Now
he had a fresh, utterly unexpected problem on
his hands. There was still no word on the whereabouts of
Lieutenant
  M'ress, and the Caitian communications officer
hadn't reported herself in to Sick Bay.
  72 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  He didn't know it, but his troubles were about to be
complicated a dozenfold.
  "Captain?"
  Kirk slid heavily into the command chair, swung
to face communications. "Yes, what is it?"
  Lieutenant Talliflores looked confused and
unhappy. "I have two reports just in, sir."
  Kirk perked up a little. "They've found
Lieutenant M'ress?"
  "No, sir. One report is from Engineering.
Com- mander Scott says that one of his
warp-drive techs, an ensign M'viore, has
disappeared."
  Talliflores checked his recorder readout.
"The other report is from Security, but it has
nothing to do with Lieutenant M'ress. One of their
own ensigns engaged in the search, name of R'leez,
has vanished and does not acknowledge her orders."
  "Both Caitians," a concerned Kirk declared
after a brief pause. "That makes three of them:
M'ress, and now this R'leez and M'viore."
  Swiveling in the chair, he looked to the science
station.
  "Mr. Vedama, I don't believe we have
any other Caitians in the crew, but would you check,
please?"
  "Aye, sir," Vedama responded in his soft,
lilting voice. It took only a few seconds
to run the check through the computer. "You're right, sir.
Those three are the only representatives of the
planet Cait listed in the personnel records."
  "Obviously we're dealing with a Caitian
racial malady, then," Kirk announced. "But
what? Some kind of disease, maybe, but how could they
all be affected 60 fast? None was near the others
when they were stricken. How could a disease be
communicated so quickly throughout the ship? Unless
Caitians are subJect to periodic attacks of
madness. But I've never heard of anything like that
affecting them."
  "Neither have I, sir," his acting science chief
added.
  "Excuse me, sir." It was Talliflores
again.
  "Now what?"
  "A report coming in from Sick Bay, Captain.
Dr. McCoy wants to talk to you."
  Kirk allowed himself a sigh of relief. "At
least Lieu
  STAR TREK LOG 73
  tenant M'ress has made it safely to Sick
Bay. Maybe Bones has some idea by now of
what's causing the Caitians to act this way." He
flipped on his chair intercom. "Bones, how is
shed"
  "How is who, Jim?" McCoy sounded
unusually tense and irritated.
  Kirk's spirits sank. "Didn't Lieutenant
M'ress report in to you yell"
  "No, she hasn't, Jim. And now I
desperately wish she would, because I have
reason to believe she isn't going to."
  "You sound awfully positive, Bones. What
makes you so sure?"
  "Jim, I've got a food technician here,
an Ensign Sanchez. He insists that he found
Lieutenant M'ress crouching under a bush in the
recreation forest area. She didn't respond when
he called out to her, so he walked over to see if
he could help. He heard your broadcast and thought
she
  might've been too sick to respond."
  "Go on, Bones," urged Kirk tensely.
  "Not only wasn't she too ill to respond,
Jim, but when he approached her she attacked
him."
  Kirk felt dazed. He conjured up an image
of the communications officer in his mind: calm,
efficient, usually in complete control of herself . .
. It didn't fit.
  But neither did her not reporting to Sick Bay.
  "Bones, is he certain it was M'ress?"
  "Just a second, Jim. You can ask him yourself."
  A shaky voice replaced that of Dr.
McCoy. "Sir, Ensign Sanchez here. Yes,
sir, I'm positive it was Lieutenant
M'ress."
  Even as he listened, Kirk found it hard
to believe. He was even willing to go as far as
to ascribe the incident to a delusion on the ensign's
part, except that M'ress was missing. While
Sanchez sounded upset, he was perfectly
coherent. There was no reason to discount his description
of the encounter.
  But Kirk was still incredulous. He had to be
certain M'ress's actions were the result of some
aberration on her part. "You say she attacked you,
Ensign? I've known Lieutenant M'ress ever
since she was assigned
  74 STAR LOG TEN
  to the Enterprise. She's a competent,
responsible officer, hardly the type given
to irrational acts and especially to an act of
violence against another crew member. You're
positive you did nothing to provoke her?"
  "Provoke her, sir?" In spite of his
condition, the ensign managed to sound suitably
outraged. "Sir, all I did was repeat to her
what she must have heard herself, that you'd directed her
to report to Sick Bay. The moment I made a
move to touch her she gave me this crazy
look. I started to back off, intending to call for
medical help, and that's when she jumped me. I
swear, sir, all I did was offer to help her, and
when she made it clear she didn't want any
help, try to get away."
  "I can verify Ensign Sanchez's story,
Jim," said McCoy, cutting in. "He has a
substantial number of pretty deep scratches.
Even well-trimmed Caitian claws can inflict
rugged damage if they're used in anger. They're
much thicker than human fingernails."
  "Captain." It was Sanchez again. He sounded
almost defiant. "I'm sorry to have to say this about a
superior officer, but I don't think the
lieutenant is quite sane. She didn't respond
to any of the things I said, either before I approached her
or while we were fighting."
  "Did she say anything at all, Ensign?"
By now Kirk had reluctantly accepted
Sanchez's story. The scratches detailed
by McCoy were the final convincer.
  "Only in Caitian, sir, a lot of yowling and
screeching it seemed like to me. I don't know the
language, but she sounded as angry as she was acting.
Frankly, sir, from the look in her eyes
I thought she was ready to kill me." Sanchez
paused a moment, added emphatically, "It was raw
emotion I saw in her face, sir. The kind of
expression you expect on the face of a crazy
animal, not a superior officer.. That's only my
im- pression, of course, and I couldn't get too
analytical about things. I was too busy trying
to keep from being cut ups'
  "I understand, Sanchez." The ensign could be
forgiven, Kirk felt, for exaggerating his
impressions in the hysteria of the moment. Kirk was about
ready to give vent to some emotions of his own.
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 75
  "Bones, you can finish treating the ensign and
release him. Sanchez, lust question for you."
  "Yes, sir," said the ensign.
  "You told me that you thought Lieutenant M'ress
was ready to kill you. Why didn't she? Did you
fight her off? I presume neither of you was armed."
  "No, sir. At least, if she had a weapon,
she didn't show it. But me, fight her off? On the
contrary, sir. I'm about her size, maybe a little
bigger, but it was like tangling with a small tornado.
No, sir, I didn't fight her off. It was
pretty funny, now that I think back on
it. She just kind of stopped all at once, gave
me this real peculiar look . . ."
  "What kind of look, ensign?" This was McCoy
speaking.
  "It's hard to describe, sir. Like she was
sorry for what she'd done and yet she'd do it again in
a minute. Then she took off and disappeared into the
landscaping."
  "Do you think she's still down in the recreation area?"
Kirk thought to ask.
  "I couldn't say, sir." Sanchez sounded
exhausted. "I didn't hang around to look for her.
All I could think of was getting out of there with the rest of
my skin intact."
  "All right, Lnsign. Thank you. Bridge
out."
  "Sick Bay out," McCoy responded.
  Kirk turned to his science officer..
"Lieutenant Vedama, what do you make of all
this? First, Lieutenant M'ress disappears and then
two Caitian ensigns, and now I learn that one of
my most trusted officers is running around silently
attacking other members of the crew."
  "Sir," Vedama announced apologetically,
"I'm no expert on the Caitians."
  "My second in command of communications goes
berserk, without any visible reason, and no one knows
anything!" Kirk sounded
  understandably peeved "Lieutenant Vedama,
see what you can find on Caitian social
patterns. Dr. McCoy will be researching possible
medical causes. Maybe it's not a medical
problem."
  76 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  "Yes, sir." Vedama turned to the science
computer, began his searching.
  Kirk's attention shifted forward. "Mr. Arex,
are we still on course schedule for arrival at
Starbase TwentyFive?"
  "Slightly ahead of time, sir," the Edoan
navigator replied. "Shall I change our speed?"
  "No. We'll resolve this trouble before we
arrive. Maintain heading and warp-speed." He
glanced back at communications.
  "Lieutenant Talliflores, relay a
message to Security. Tell them I want search
teams on every deck to hunt for Lieutenant
M'ress and the two absent ensigns. Inform them that
all three Caitians are probably dangerous,
prone to violent response if
approached, and possibly not
  responsible for their actions.
  "Under no circumstances are any of the three to be
assaulted with anything stronger than a phaser set for
stun. Emphasize to all teams that the three crew
members are likely to be suffering from a
noncommunicable racial disease as yet
unidentified, and that they haven't turned traitor
or anything as ridiculously imaginative as that.
When captured all three are to be taken
directly to Sick Bay for treatment."
  "Yes, sir." Talliflores operated
instruments. "Relaying, sir."
  In the absence of further information, Kirk leaned
back in the command chair and pondered what had happened
so far. In the following silence he had ample time
to consider and abandon at least a dozen theories
concerning the Caitians' actions, none of which seemed
even marginally probable.
  His chair intercom buzzed for attention.
  "Jim," the voice from the speaker announced,
"McCoy here. I've received two more
casualties."
  "What?" Kirk sat up straight in the chair.
  "That's right, two more. From different
decks. One thinks he was attacked by Lieutenant
  M'ress. The other identifies his attacker as
Ensign M'viore."
  "Meaviore, too." Kirk felt dazed.
"Bones, what the hell's going on here?"
  "I wish I knew, Jim. Caitians are
normally a very
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 77
  controlled people. This is the first incident of its kind
that I can recall taking place aboard the
Enterprise or for that matter any other ship I know
of, in which Caitians were involved. It doesn't
make any sense."
  "I know that already, Bones. What about temporary
insanity?"
  "Occurring simultaneously in three different
personalities? Highly unlikely, Jim.
I've been checking their records in the medical
computer. All three crew members have a history
of perfectly normal health, both mental and
physical. Not one of them has ever shown any
tendency toward mental instability, let alone all
three of them. Sorry, Jim, but it has to be
something else."
  "Anything we could have brought on board,
Bones?" Kirk wondered. "Maybe something that could
have contaminated their food, affecting them and no one
else?"
  "I'll check their diets as best I can, Jim,
but it's impossible to know exactly what they've
eaten lately, never mind for the past few weeks or
months. If it's something they did eat, the
responsible substance might have been ingested long
ago and is only now manifesting itself. There's only
one way to check that out and that's to submit all three
of them to a detailed bio- chemical body
analysis, to find out if there is a foreign substance
affecting their stability."
  "To do that, Bones, we have to catch them."
  "And that's the immediate problem, Jim. In order
to cure them, we've first got to find them."
  There were three members in the search party. All
had their phasers out and set for stun. Ordinarily that
would be enough to give them a quiet confidence, but this
situation was different from any in recent memory.
Even when the quarry was a member of the ship's crew,
at least one had some idea what to expect. This time,
no one from the captain on down seemed to have any
idea what was happening. All they knew was that they were
searching for three Caitian crew members
who had possibly gone crazy.
  Presently they were combing the recreational forest
  78 STAR TREK LOG
  on Deck Eight, having started from the section where
the missing officer M'ress had last been seen.
Other security parties were performing similar searches
both on this deck and elsewhere on the ship.
  "Hasmid," whispered one of the security men
to his friend on his left, "I understand that Caitians
are supposed to be able to move unheard and unseen
through this kind of terrain. Just because it's located in the
middle of a starship doesn't mean they can't function
as efficiently as they can on the surface of a
planet."
  "Quiet, Kasuki!" the other responded
sharply. "You're makin' me nervous. And this isn't
any kind of terrain. It's only the recreation
area."
  "Shut up, you twol" snapped the officer in
charge of the little group.
  They were traveling in a line through a particularly
dense clump of vegetation. In spite of their
attentiveness, they hardly had time to react when the
three Caitians hit them simultaneously.
  Kirk's chair intercom yammered for
attention again. Kirk jabbed the acknowledge button
almost viciously. "Kirk here."
  "Jim, McCoy again," came the concerned
  response. "One of our patrolling security
details got beaten up. It looks like our three
fugitives have joined together somewhere down on Deck
Eight."
  "One minute, Bones." Kirk switched over
to 6hipwide frequency. "Affention, all
security personnel. All security personnel,
this is the captain speaking. Seal off Deck
Eight. Shut down all turbolift service
to Deck Eight. Personnel on Deck Eight
are instructed to continue with normal duties. The
three Caitians are apparently now operating
together, but they've shown no tendency to perform wanton
attacks on individuals, and react violently
only if approached.
  "If you see any of the three crew members in
question, do not attempt to restrain them yourselves. Contact
the nearest security team and give details of your
sighting." Kirk thought a second, then added,
"Use extreme caution when approaching the three
Caitians. They have already overpowered one security
unit.
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 79
  Henceforth, all security teams will operate in
groups of not less than eight per team."
  Kirk switched back to the Sick Bay
frequency. "Sorry, Bones, but I had to relay
some information to Security right away. Go on."
  "Jim, there's something else peculiar about this.
None of the three Caitians are especially large
or strong. The contrary, if anything. Yet they put
a whole security team out of commission, a team of
personnel whose business is restraining the unruly.
The three are all marked up: bruises,
scratches, cuts, the works. Ensign Trancas
is one of them."
  Kirk knew Trancas, a big, burly
wrestler type from a slightly high-gravity world.
Hardly the sort one would imagine a trio of
sylphlike Caitians could overpower, much less
beat up.
  "They encountered only the three Caitians?" he
asked in disbelief, "and they were unable to subdue
them?"
  "Subdue them! Jim, you ought to see these three.
Trancas was in charge of their group. He told me
they never had a chance. They thought they had the
three fugitives spotted, and approached them with
phasers ready. Trancas says they should have beamed
them on sight. Instead, when the Caitians showed no
sign of ag-
  gressiveness, they tried to move them physically.
That's when they were jumped, too fast to use their
weapons. We know the Caitians are fast, but this
other thing has me confused. Trancas says he
tried to wrestle M'ress to the deck and she threw
him into a clump of bushes."
  "M'ress?" The communications officer had never
displayed any unusual strength. "Bones, do the
Caitians have some special reserves of energy they
can call on at will? Perhaps something we don't know
about?"
  "I wouldn't think so, Jim. At least, I never
heard of any such phenomenon, and the Caitians are
a fairly well documented race. They've been
members of the Federation long enough for any peculiar
abilities to have manifested themselves. I think we're
still stuck with our original hypothesis: that something
they've eaten has affected their body chemistry.
The unusual strength is
  undoubtedly a byproduct of whatever's af
  80 STAR LOG TEN
  feeling them. Whatever they ingested isn't sitting
well with them."
  "It's not sitting well with me either, Bones.
Keep hunting, and let me know the instant you think you
might've found the chemical that's causing all the
trouble."
  "If that's what it is, Jim. Sick Bay
out."
  "Captain?" Talliflores glanced over from
communications. "A new report coming in. From a
yeoman Loo. He's certain he spotted
Lieutenant M'ress and at least one other
Caitian on Deck Six."
  "Already? They must have slipped away before we sealed
off Deck Eight."
  "If anyone could avoid patrols it would be the
Caitians, sir." Vedama sounded half
apologetic. "With their speed and agility, coupled
to a natural talent for selfconcealment, they will
prove difficult to corner."
  "I'm fully aware of the capabilities of
Caitian physiology, Mr. Vedama."
Kirk's frustration made his reply sound more biting
than he intended it to be. "More than I want to be,
at the moment." He sighed.
  "Mr. Talliflores, redirect security
personnel to cover all decks, with particular
emphasis on Deck Six."
  "Yes, sir." He paused, listening at his
headset. "Another report coming in. They didn't
slip through unnoticed. They confronted another
security patrol under the command of yeoman
O'Hyour. They're on their way to Sick Bay
now."
  Events were becoming more complicated
  instead of less so, Kirk mused. "All eight
of them?"
  "All but three, Captain," Talliflores
reported. "Yeoman O'Hyour is among them. But
Ensigns
  Suarez, Hilambo, and Chevalier were not injured
and are presently in pursuit of the fugitives,
having delayed only long enough to report in and check
the severity of their companions' injuries."
  "So three of them weren't hurt, and the Caitians
backed off. Whatever's affecting them hasn't made
them omnipotent, then. They haven't suddenly
become invincible." He hesitated. "Still, five out
of eight put out of commission without so much as capturing
one
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 81
  fugitive isn't very encouraging either. But at least
no one's been seriously hurt or killed yet."
  "True, sir," Arex commented from his position at
the navigation-helm. "But they will have phasers now,
taken from the assaulted security team."
  "Mr. Arex, I'm sure they took phasers from
the first trio of security personnel they confronted,
and yet they haven't so much as fired to stun anyone.
That doesn't make any sense either. If nothing
else, the Caitians are acting consistent in their
inconsistentness." Kirk stared at the vacant
viewscreen, which all too soon would be displaying a
picture of Starbase 25.
  Probably the base had several Caitians in
its complement, which meant that M'ress and her
companions had to be captured and treated before anyone
from the Enterprise could leave the ship. A human
might not be affected by whatever had possessed the
Caitians, but that didn't rule out the
possibility of Kirk or anyone else of another
species serving as a carrier. If it was some kind of
racial malady the Caitians were suffering from, he
couldn't risk infecting the Caitians at the
starbase. Besides which, the Caitians had
to be caught so they could be kept from harming themselves, not
to mention other personnel.
  "Whatever's affected them hasn't driven them
completely crazy, Mr. Arex, or they wouldn't have
a thought about employing weapons, not to mention severely
injuring anyone else. They've been very careful about
that." A new thought occurred to him.
  "In fact, their recent movements are a
testament to their continued sanity. Have you noticed,
Mr. Arex, Mr. Vedama, that the Caitians
aren't just traveling in a random pattern to avoid the
security teams? They're moving upward through the
ship. Why, I can't imagine. But if they persist
in their movements, and there's no reason why they
shouldn't[*thorngg'at least, none I can
hypothesize[*thorngg'then maybe we can make it
work to our advantage. The bridge is the one
level on the ship where we can isolate them and
eliminate any possible chance of escape."
  "True but risky, Captain," Vedama
pointed out.
  82 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  Kirk replied tensely. "I have three valuable
members of my crew running amok, Lieutenant,
and if we can stop them before they severely
injure any of their fellows or irrevocably
incriminate themselves, I'm going to take a chance or
two."
  "Captain," Lieutenant Arex noted, "if
we permit them to reach the bridge unopposed and they
are, as you state, not insane, then surely they will
suspect something."
  "Not if we're careful not to give them reason
to, Lieutenant. All bridge personnel will
continue to perform their usual duties, as if nothing
is amiss. Mr. Vedama, signal Starbase
Twenty-Five and find out what they know about
periodic maladies among the Caitians. Give
them a detailed
  breakdown of their aberrant behavior lately,
plus personal resumes. See if the medical
computer there has any information we might use that's not
in our banks. And if there's a Caitian or two
serving at the Base, try and contact them directly
and explain our problem. Maybe they'll know
exactly what's wrong."
  "Yes, sir. We are still a considerable distance from
the base and there is no deep-space relay between.
There will be time between questions and reply," Vedama
declared.
  "Sick Bay calling bridge," the speaker at
Kirk's elbow announced. "McCoy here. The
injuries to the five members of the last security
team are[*thorn]"
  "Not now, Bones," Kirk interrupted him. "The
Caitians are moving upward through the ship. I have a
hunch they're going to try and reach the bridge."
  "Why would they do that? Surely they have no
illusions about taking over the shipI"
  "We don't know what they might want,
Bones."
  "Well if you're fairly sure they're coming
there, then I'm coming also. They've already
  demonstrated they can exercise much more than their
usual strength. Several of the injured ensigns are
positive they hit at least two of the Caitians
with phaser bursts when it seemed they were going to be
overpowered. They're convinced that's what drove their
attackers off, but they don't understand why the bursts
didn't stun them
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 83
  into immobility. All I can guess is that their
increased strength may also be coupled to an ability
to at least partially withstand a phaser set to stun."
  "I'll believe that, Bones, when I
fire point-blank at M'ress and don't see
her fall on the deck."
  "Maybe so, Jim, but I'm going to bring
  something of my own along. It's more powerful than a
phaser stun burst, but no more lethal.
Ke'eloveen. It's a general tranquilizer that can
be adjusted specifically for several different kinds
of mammalian metabolism. It won't take
long to concoct a batch gauged specifically for
Caitian physiology."
  "Sounds promising, Bones. Be glad to have you."
  McCoy arrived on the bridge shortly thereafter.
He carried a small plastic pistol with a
multiple barrel. Walking over to the command chair,
he showed it to Kirk, reached into a waist pouch and
brought out a handful of tiny transparent darts filled
with a thick golden liquid.
  "Each dart holds enough ke'eloveen to put out
several Caitians, Jim. The pistol can fire
four darts together or individually. I hope I have
enough time to fire one dart at a time. I can fire a
quadruple spread in an emergency, but three
darts or more striking the same person would create the
danger of overdose reactions."
  "I'm hoping[*thorngg'unreasonably
[*thorngg't you won't have to use them, Bones."
Kirk found the prospect of facing an attack
by three of his crew sobering, where others might have found
it ludicrous.
  McCoy placed the pistol in a ready position
at his waist. "Any indication of where the three are
now?"
  "No. We haven't had any reports on their
whereabouts for some time, Bones. Hopefully a patrol
will capture them before they can reach the bridge. If
not, we have one advantage: They don't know that
we're expecting them here."
  "How can you be so sure, Jim? They probably
know that you've been receiving reports on their
movements. They might assume that you do know they're
heading here and change their direction accordingly."
  84 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  "I don't think so, Bones." Kirk leaned
forward earnestly. "Everything they've done so far has
been with a singlemindedness of purpose."
  "So you think there's a method in their madness? That
they have some definite goal in mind?" McCoy
seemed skeptical. "That doesn't sound like any
kind of disease function I ever heard of."
  "Bones, they've got to be working toward
some end. I admit I don't have much grounds for
believing that, but their actions almost hint that they're being
controlled by something they're unable to resist, some
compulsion they can't fight. I don't think they'll
consider that we might be waiting for them, because I
don't think that whatever's driving them leaves them much
room for that kind of abstract speculation. I just
wish I knew what they wanted, and why."
  "We'll find out soon enough, Jim." And he
added, so softly no one else could hear,
"Provided we don't have to kill all three of
them." McCoy moved away, leaving Kirk to his
own thoughts. He took up a stance near the
communications console, checking to make certain the
tranquilizer pistol was still in place, ready to be
pressed into hurried service.
  "Remember," Kirk informed the rest of the bridge
personnel, "no one is to make a hostile move
or indicate that anything out of the ordinary is taking
place unless the Caitians provoke us. If that
happens, use your phasers on stun."
  A chorus of "ayes" sounded in varying degrees
of assurance from around the bridge.
  "Anything from Starbase Twenty-Five,
  Lieutenant Vedama?"
  "No, sir. They should have received our communication
by now. No doubt they are trying to find something
to report to us."
  Kirk turned to communications once more.
"Talliflores, any new word on the present
location of the Caitians?"
  "No, sir, nothing. None of the patrolling
security teams reports a sighting since the last
one identifying them from Deck Six[*thorngg'and
no word from any other
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 85
  personnel, although everyone on the ship must be
looking out for them."
  "They're probably not even halfway to the
bridge yet," McCoy commented. "Maybe they
changed their minds or their imaginary unknown
purpose, and are heading in a different direction."
  "Maybe, Bones," Kirk conceded, "but I
still[*thorn]"
  The turbolift doors opened abruptly.
Everyone on the bridge tensed, then relaxed. It was
only a couple of ensigns wearing science department
insignia. And also wearing, Kirk noted curiously
after starting to turn away, oddly matched blank
expressions.
  "Bridge[*thorn]!" he started to shout.
  Both technicians fell forward, unconscious.
Two Caitians emerged from the lift behind them,
moving low and incredibly fast and firing phasers of
their own.
  "[*thorngg'alert!" Kirk finished, even as
he was ducking down in the command chair and reaching for his
own sidearm.
  The order was hardly necessary, since everyone had
heard or seen the two bodies of the
  technicians falling to the deck in front of the
lift. Moving forms and flashing beams of phaser power
set for stun filled the bridge. That included the
phasers of the Caitians, who still displayed a caution
entirely out of keeping with their actions. Several
members of the bridge complement were quickly
immobilized by the Caitians' surprise
attack.
  Shielded by the command chair's bulk, Kirk was able
to aim a touch better than some of his crew. One
blast from his phaser struck Ensign R'leez
square in the left side, under her arm. She
stumbled[*thorngg'b didn't go down. They had
been correct in assuming that whatever was affecting the
Caitians had also given their bodies the
ability to withstand a low-power phaser burst.
  But Kirk couldn't consider increasing the power of
any weapons to killing intensity. No one had been
killed or seriously hurt by the rampaging
Caitians. Of course, if it appeared that it was
going to be a choice between hurting one of the Caitians
and letting them take over the bridge . . .
  86 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  Arex was crouched behind the navigation-helm console
firing regularly. Holding a paralyzed left
forearm tight against his side, Lieutenant Vedama
provided a crossfire from the region of the science
station.
  One of the Caitians, R'leez again, made a
rush for the command chair and Kirk. The Captain fired
at the charging ensign, then rolled out of the feline's
path. But it was immediately clear she wasn't after him
or the command chair. She rushed past Kirk,
ignoring him as she headed for the helm controls.
  Arex caught her with another phaser burst. She
staggered but again somehow managed to keep her feet.
She was almost on top of the console and its
protective, tripodal operator when she
unexpectedly collapsed and fell across the
helmsman's seat.
  Kirk had rolled back behind the command chair,
panting. Now he noticed the tiny glint of plastic
reflected off the syringe-dart sticking out of the
Caitian's back. McCoy had shot her with one
of his tranquilizer darts.
  Then something knocked him aside, moving at
incredible speed. It was Ensign M'viore, the other
Caitian who had arrived in the lift.
  "Bones! Fire, Bones!"
  Why didn't he fire?
  M'viore leaped for the controls, and Arex emerged
to meet her. The Edoan threw three arms around her,
wrestled her off. His additional arm prevented her from
dealing with him as easily as she and her companions had
dealt with the members of the various security teams.
Spitting and Hawing while a silent Arex held
on desperately, she tumbled to the deck on top of
him.
  "Bones!" Kirk looked around frantically for the
doctor. Then he saw why McCoy hadn't fired
at M'viore and why he didn't answer now.
McCoy was Iying sprawled on the deck, stunned
by a burst from one of the Caitians'phasers.
  Half crawling, half stumbling, Kirk ran
to his side, picked up the half-loaded
tranquilizer gun. Arex and M'viore rolled
over twice before the Caitian came up on top and
raised her claws for a swing at the exhaust
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 87
  ednavigator's face. Vedama and
Talliflores hunted for a clear shot at her.
  Kirk turned, aimed the unfamiliar but simple
device, and fired. The syringe-dart snicked
into M'viore just beneath her upraised right arm. She
sat perfectly still for a moment, then rose and glanced
at her side uncomprehendingly. For a brief
instant the expression on her face was almost
normal. Then she crumpled to the deck.
  A shaken Arex climbed slowly to his feet.
Kirk moved to stand beside him, still holding the dartgun.
  "Her reserves of strength were startling, sir,"
Arex told him, "much in addition to what the reports
claimed. It was one thing to listen to them, quite another
to experience what they were referring to. I found myself
being rapidly overpowered." Long, high whistling
  sounds[*thorngg'Edoan
wheezing[*thorngg'issued from the
  navigator's mouth.
  "I thought she was coming for me," a puzzled Kirk
murmured. "She was looking straight at
me, and then[*thorngg'something more important seemed
to take control of her. She forgot me completely in
her rush to get at the helm. R'leez was heading for the
helm also."
  "That's funny, sir," a puzzled technician
replied, from across the bridge, "I thought she was coming
after me."
  "I wonder why the helm as a final destination.
Where could they want to go so frantically?"
  "We'll find out when they wake up." Arex
regarded both limp feline forms thoughtfully.
  "I hope so." Kirk glanced around quickly, but the
bridge and turbolift were devoid of the one figure
he sought. "I wonder where M'ress is?"
  The Caitian communications officer was closer
than Kirk knew. She was in a dark, dark
place. It didn't bother her. She was not
subject to claustrophobia, and the faint glow from the
pocket light she carried in one hand provided more
than enough illumination for her cat eyes to make out her
surroundings. It was blissfully quiet where she was
working, but she wasn't calm and relaxed. The pounding
of her heart and the raging
  88 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  emotions controlling her kept both her
hands and mind moving desperately.
  Nurse Chapel arrived with other Sick Bay
technicians. The two Caitians and the members
of the bridge crew who had been paralyzed by their
phasers were carried from the room.
  One particular casualty concerned Kirk, not because
he was more severely injured than any of the others, but
because his invaluable advice would be sorely missed.
"How soon before Bones will recover?" he inquired
as McCoy was carried off the bridge.
  "It doesn't look as if he received the full
force of a beam, Captain." Chapel considered the question
briefly. "Not very long. In fact, he may be the
first one to recover since he only absorbed a
glancing blow. He'll recover faster if I
give him a countering neurodrug, but he'll feel
the effects twenty-four hours later."
  "I need him most in the next twenty-four
hours," Kirk told her. "What would Bones say
if he was able?"
  "To give him the drug," Chapel replied without
hesitation.
  "Right. Do so. What about the Caitians? I've
got to know what's affected them and what M'ress is
likely to do on her own, now that her two
companions have been caught."
  "I understand, sir. I've been working with Dr.
McCoy trying to find out, and we've several
members of the ship's organic fabrication staff
working with us. If anything unusual got into their
food, they'll find it. It's slow going, though,
backchecking everything that's been processed in,
say, the past several weeks. They've found nothing
in the way of a foreign substance so far that might be
responsible for the trouble."
  "Keep them at it, Chapel. Do the best you can.
And contact me the moment Bones is conscious."
  She smiled. "He'll do that himself, sir."
  When the last motionless crew member had been
removed and the medical team was on its way down
to Sick Bay, Kirk resumed his station at the command
chair. Talliflores, Vedama, and himself were the
only ones who had escaped the Caitians'
assault.
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 89
  But that wouldn't do, especially not with M'ress still
unconfined.
  "Lieutenant Talliflores, contact
appropriate sections and have them designate
on-duty
  qualified personnel to replace the
technicians who were stunned. We need a maximum
complement here, in case of any new surprises.
Have backups report immediately."
  He turned to Vedama. "I wonder why
M'ress didn't join her friends in their attack.
A third charge might have successfully reached the
helm."
  "It is possible, Captain," the science officer
theorized, "that M'ress might have disagreed with her
companions in their approach. Or she might feel
different compulsions, have differing motives, and therefore
didn't accompany them. Or," and he looked around
with concern, "their seemingly well-planned assault
on the bridge might only have been a diversion so
M'ress could reach some other part of the ship."
  "Possible, Lieutenant. Talliflores,
give me shipwide channel again."
  The communications officer complied and Kirk once
more addressed the command chair pickup. "All
personnel, this is the Captain speaking.
  "Two of the three renegade Caitians have now
been tranquilized and are on their way to Sick
Bay to receive treatment. Lieutenant M'ress has
not been located and presumably is still
moving freely about the ship. It is possible that the
recent, nonfatal attack on the bridge which you will
shortly be hearing rumors of was an attempt
to divert our attention from some other deck. Security
teams will continue searching on their own levels and all
personnel will continue to remain alert for the
lieutenant's presence. Thank you."
  "If M'ress has any sense left,"
Vedama
  commented, "she'll realize that she can't hope
to accomplish whatever bizarre intention she and her
companions had."
  "Relief personnel are on their way up,
Captain," Tallifiores announced smoothly.
  "Good. Hopefully this will all be over soon."
  Kirk regarded the command chair chronometer. They
still had plenty of time to[*thorn]
  The lights went out.
  90 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  Everyone spent a nerve-wracking couple of
seconds in near-total darkness until the
  self-contained emergency lights cut in, filling
the bridge with an eerie, dim glow that was
  punctuated only by the brilliant but localized
illumination of the instrumentation faces and
dials.
  "I believe, Captain," said Vedama
slowly, "that we now know the whereabouts of Lieutenant
M'ress."
  "Mr. Talliflores," Kirk said crisply,
his eyes darting from dark corner to half-hidden
  bulkhead, "any communications from elsewhere on the
ship as to her pos6ible presence?"
  "Checking, sir." Talliflores turned to his
console. A peculiar expression came over his
deeply tanned face. He rapidly adjusted
several controls, but these actions served only
to deepen his uncertainty.
  Eventually he turned back to the command chair. His
tone was grim. "Sir, all on-board communications
are dead. I can't reach any part of the ship, and if
there are incoming calls I'm not picking them up."
  "Lieutenant Vedama, try through the science
section. See if you can raise anyone," Kirk
ordered.
  Vedama likewise operated one switch after
another before turning sorrowfully to face Kirk.
"Sir, not only can't I contact any one, I
can't contact any thing. All links with the main computer
have been blocked off."
  "So now we know exactly where M'ress is."
Kirk found himself slowly inspecting the surrounding
walls and the ceiling. "She's got to be in the
service crawlway encircling the bridge." He
couldn't, despite the seriousness of the situation, keep
a touch of admiration from his voice.
  "While M'viore and R'leez were attacking the
bridge, she was busy cutting controls and
connections. We were intentionally kept too busy
to use any of the bridge instrumentation, or even
to consider that the attack might be diversionary."
  His most important remaining question was directed
to the only other officer in the room. "Mr. Arex,
we've lost communications and
  computer access. I hope that's all we've
lost."
  "I follow your meaning, Captain," the Edoan
navi
  STAR TREK TEN 91
  gator acknowledged. "I am glad to report that
we are still on course and maintaining speed. The
engineering conduits, which are the most heavily sealed of
all bridge-ship linkages, are too strong for her
to break."
  "Or maybe she doesn't want
to break into them," Kirk commented thoughtfully. "If the
Caitians' purpose is to take over the ship,
they'll want it in operating condition." He leaned
forward in the chair, added sharply, "None of this means
we can't get reinforcements in here. Lieutenant
Vedama, try the turbolift."
  The science officer nodded, left his station, and
moved to the lift. He touched the controls. The
doors did not swing aside.
  "Nothing, sir. Not even an acknowledgment light
on the panel."
  "I retract my statement on reinforcements.
Ap- parently Lieutenant M'ress isn't
dazed enough not to think things through." He smiled
ruefully. "It's always pleasing to see an officer
demonstrate such competence. I only wish it were under
different circumstances."
  "There's still the way she got here, Captain,"
Vedama pointed out as he moved back to his station.
"Up through the service passageways."
  Kirk shook his head. "You can bet that when she
entered the serviceway around the bridge,
Lieutenant, she took care to block off the
approach behind her. The Caitians have
  demonstrated too much thoroughness so far,
to forget something so obvious.
  "However, the moment someone tries to contact the
bridge[*thorngg'if they haven't
alr[*thorngg'and finds out that its sealed off,
they'll guess what's happened and act accordingly.
Even if M'ress has used a phaser to melt and
seal the door to the
  serviceway, it won't take long for someone
else to get a torch from engineering and cut through.
  "And that means," he finished, hefting the
tranquilizer gun tightly in one hand, "that if she
still expects to accomplish whatever crazy end she
has in mind, she'll have to act very soon."
  But they waited in silence. There was no sound nor
  92 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  sign of movement from any of the several
  serviceway hatches lining the interior wall of the
bridge.
  "Biding her time," Kirk muttered softly,
"waiting for some special moment. I wish I knew
what was driving her and the other Caitians to do this."
  A nervous Talliflores suddenly voiced an
unspoken concern. "Sir, what about our
  life-support systems? Couldn't she take
over by interrupting our air supply1"
  Kirk replied just a smidgen more confidently than
he felt. "I've already thought of that, Lieutenant.
She could cut our atmosphere, but I don't know
if she could restore it for her own use. But
M'ress is no engineer. I don't think she could
modulate the air supply just enough to knock us out, and
I don't believe she'd chance killing us. That would
be counter to all their actions thus far. No, I think
she'll try and take the bridge without doing anything
so drastic."
  "I admit they haven't killed anyone so far,
sir," Tallillores conceded, "but if M'ress
is pressed for time and feels someone breaking in behind
her, into the serviceway[*thorngg'I just wish I
knew why they're doing this!"
  "Easy, Lieutenant," Kirk urged, trying
to relax the officer.. "If we knew that, I think
we'd have the answers to an our questions."
  "If you're right, sir," Talliflores mused,
"why wait here for her to attack us? She's had the
element of surprise with her ever since this business
began."
  "How do you propose to take it away from her?"
Kirk could see along the lieutenant's intended
path and didn't like the option it presented.
At the same time, Talliflores was quite correct.
Kirk didn't see how he could object to it.
  The communications officer indicated a nearby
service hatch. "She could be anywhere around or above
us, sir. There are several entrances onto the
bridge from the serviceway. She could be right here
next to communications, or waiting by that one." He
pointed to the hatch beneath the main viewscreen. "But she
can't be behind all of them at once.
  "If one of us could get through a hatch, armed with a
phaser and in close quarters, he could probably
hold her off despite her speed and added strength.
Even an
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 93
  agile Caitian needs room to maneuver. One
of us could keep her busy while another cut through the
sealed downway to go for help. We might even
surprise her enough to overpower her before she could
react."
  "You saw what little effect phasers had on
ensigns M'viore and R'leez, Lieutenant.
Each of them took two or three bursts and still
didn't go down."
  "I know that, sir," Talliflores argued, "but
it did slow them down. If one of us used
a phaser and another was ready nearby with the
tranquilizers[*thorn]"
  Kirk was emphatic. "Absolutely not,
Lieutenant. Your idea has merit, but . . .
no. Keeping the tranquilizers ready right here is
one of our two remaining methods to insure that the
bridge is protected."
  "The other?" inquired the lieutenant.
  Kirk hesitated, finally voiced the one thing
he'd been fighting to avoid. "In that case,
we'll have to set phasers to kill."
  V111
  All the Kzinti save one were engaged in setting
up the stasis-field nullifier or in supervising
its construction. The single exception sat in the far
corner of the ready room looking miserable and
unhappy as always. But that didn't prevent it from
regularly scrutinising the Federation prisoners.
Sulu knew that it was concentrating only
  indifferently with its rheumy, sensitive eyes.
The dangerous attention it was lavishing on them
sprang from another organ. The telepath ignored
the excitement in the room. It spoke not to its
fellows, simply sat and watched and listened with its
mind, hoping for unconscious betrayal of
useful information from one of the captives.
  One of the largest Kzinti spoke a few harsh
final words to one of the others, then turned to walk over
and study the prisoners. Spock had already singled him
out as a leader among the collection of yowling aliens,
as much for his bearing and manner as for anything he
  94 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  had said. The gaze the Kzin lavished on the
immobile captives was more baleful than that of the
other Kzinti. His entire manner hinted at
impatience and a natural belligerence he did not
even try to suppress.
  That was fine with Spock. He preferred a
direct confrontation to the subtle spying of the
telepathic weakling hunched in the background.
  Eyes darting rapidly from one to the next, the big
Kzin examined them each in turn. Directing his
words to Sulu, he spoke. His standard Lnglish was
comprehensible enough, though pushed out in a rough, raspy
voice, as if the Kzin were speaking with a mouthful of
pebbles. The implied threat and harshness of his tone
needed no clarification.
  "I am Chuft-Captain. You will identify
  yourselves."
  So much for diplomatic courtesy,
Spock mused. Well, realistically they could
expect nothing better.
  Taking his cue from what the first officer had said before,
Sulu spoke up as if it were natural for him to be
in command. "Lieutenant Sulu of the Federation starship
Enterprise." He gestured with his head toward his
companions. "This is officer Spock."
  Chuft-Captain appeared to find nothing
  unusual in Sulu's failure to identify
Uhura. He regarded her once, only long enough
to assure himself that she was female, and then dismissed
her presence as if she did not exist.
  Spock, however, was evidently deserving of
somewhat more attention. "You are a Vulcan," declared
the Kzin, contempt dripping from every word. "I feel
no pressing need to converse with an eater of roots and
leaves."
  One eyebrow rose slightly, but Spock
didn't reply to the taunt. If Chuft-Captain
was trying to assure himself of Spock's placidity,
the first officer wasn't going to do anything to counter that
impression.
  Apparently satisfied, the Kzin commander turned
back to Sulu. "Humans are at least
omnivorous," he growled with the air of one
making a major concession. "You are prisoners
aboard the privateer Traitor's Claw, a
stolen police vessel."
  Sulu had a questioning response ready, but having
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 95
  delivered himself of this information,
  Chuft-Captain showed no inclination to pursue the
conversation. Instead, he turned away from the
captives.
  His subordinates had almost finished the basic
assembly of the nullifier and were beginning to place
ancillary instrumentation into the complex framework. As
the odd-shaped device took shape, the various
members of the Kzin crew displayed increasing
excitement.
  One Kzin took no part in the construction of the
stasis-field nullifier. His attention was reserved
solely for the stasis box itself. It rested on the far
end of the huge central table. Even with the former owners
of the box secured within the police-web field, the
guard showed no sign of relaxing his vigilance.
  If the Kzin commander was reluctant to
  converse, then it was up to Sulu to persuade him.
"Stealing must be a habit with you. The police
vessel . . . two stasis boxes . .
." The helmsman managed to sound impressively
contemptuous himself.
  Chuft-Captain spun to face him. Since
contempt and insult was a normal component of
Kzinti communication, Sulu's manner had no
effect on him at all.
  "Both boxes are the rightful property of Kzin.
One we found was empty. We will soon see about the
one your trespassing archeologists found. Yes, we
knew of those on Gruyakin[*thorngg'andofthe box.
We intercepted one of their broadcasts, you see."
  He looked proud. "We did not know of the box
until they contacted your ship.
  "Rather than assault the entire
installation[*thorngg'an attack which would no doubt
have been successful but difficult
to conceal[*thorngg'we waited for the box to be
transported off the planet. Little could we hope that
only one man and two others would be sent to recover
it. With that known, we hastily arranged this trap.
Your disappearance," he added matter-of-factly, "will
be much simpler to disguise. As for the second box,"
and he gestured at the glowing cube on the table, "it
is rightfully the property of Kzin."
  "What's all this garbage about
trespassing and Kzin property?" Sulu sounded
outraged.
  "Gruyakin is an open system."
  96 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  "A system long claimed by Kzin," snapped an
imperious Chuft-Captain.
  "The Kzinti make it a habit to claim half
the planets im the galaxy," sniffed Sulu.
"It's one thing to stake a claim, another to prove
rightful ownership. Saying Grnyakin belongs to Kzin
is not the same thing as owning it."
  "Both boxes are the property of Kzin!"
  Chuft-Captain's idea of rational debate
apparently consisted of stating that which he believed over
and over again, as if his claim would gain validity through
force of repetition.
  "The stasis box we found some time ago was
empty," he explained, "but it served well as
bait to draw you here. Now we await the inheritance
rightfully ours." He gestured at the box,
evidently enjoying himself. "The Slavers possessed
weapons that could devastate a civilisation. If the
gods are with us, there will be one such weapon in that
box."
  Automatically Sulu's eyes
traveled to the glowing container they had recovered with so
much difficulty. The box itself was harmless as long as
one took care[*thorngg'unlike the unfortunate
Jaiao Beguin, back on
Gruyakin[*thorngg'n to try to open it
incorrectly. Sulu fervently wished that the
Kzinti stasis nullifier wouldn't work properly.
It would be a pleasure to watch the box's defensive
system promptly envelop every member of the Kzinti
crew in a silvery stasis field of their own.
  Across the room, the Kzinti telepath frowned.
Let him. Sulu grinned viciously. They had
nothing else to threaten him with.
  However, judging from the expertise with which the Kzinti
technicians were assembling their own nullifier,
Sulu's hope was wishful thinking at best. Again he
could only glance at the box and pray that its contents
proved as innocuous as its exterior.
  Sulu had already assumed an aggressive,
angry pose. Might as well maintain it. He
continued to lace his comments with contempt. "The Kzinti
fought four wars with humankind and lost them all," he
declared. "The last one was two hundred years ago.
It seems that you haven't learned a thing since."
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 97
  That touched a nerve. A violent howl rattled the
interior of the ship. It was as brief as it was
extreme. Aware that he had been provoked
  beyond control, Chuft-Captain quickly bit off the
roar, though it took him several moments longer
to regain his composure.
  When he finally, dangerously responded, his
comments were phrased almost carelessly. "Guard your
speech, man. None of my crew has ever tasted
human meat as did our ancestors. We would
welcome the opportunity."
  Belligerence had its place. So did common
sense. Realizing he had pushed Chuft-Captain
too far, Sulu refrained from responding. The
Kzin's threat was not made idly. There was nothing
to be gained by advancing the time of their death. While
they lived there was always the chance, however faint it
seemed at the moment, of recovering or at least
destroying the stasis box and its unknown contents.
While their present status mitigated against that, they
could do even less from inside someone's stewpot.
  "Always," Chuft-Captain was saying, "you and your
Federation have had superior equipment and technology.
We've sought a weapon for a long time which would enable us
to defeat you at last."
  Sulu jumped on that. "So much for your story about
being a privateer. You've just declared that you're really
working for the government of Kzin."
  One of the other Kzinti, possibly an
  intermediate officer, looked up from the work
proceeding at the table to snarl at Chuft-Captain,
who growled back.
  "You are presumptuous," he rumbled at
Sulu. "All records will show that the Traitor's
Claw is a stolen police ship. If we are
captured, the Highest of Kzin will repudiate us."
He smiled, showing sharp white teeth. "No matter
what happens, no one except you could possibly
prove that this is anything but an illegal privateer
crew. And you will not be alive to offer any evidence
against us."
  A low growling interrupted him. The Kzinti were
stepping back from the now-completed nullifier.
  Chuft-Captain snarled a reply, started toward
the table. He glanced back with a final word for
Sulu. "If
  98 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  we succeed and are not captured or intercepted, you
wild be meat for our tables.""
  There was an exchange of grumbles and
  gestures. A couple of the Kzin technicians
made some last-minute adjustments to the nullifier.
When everyone had stepped clear, the engineer in charge
pulled a single switch.
  The mood in the room, among captives as well
as Kzinti, was one of anticipation mixed with caution.
While the stasis nullifier looked efficient and the
Kzinti had clearly taken every precaution with its
construction and design to insure that it would operate
exactly as intended, no one could predict with one
hundred percent certainty exactly what a stasis
box might do in any sit- uation. For example, it
might turn out to be a very intricate Slaver
booby trap designed to look like a stasis box.
  These fears were overcome by fascination as the
nullifier acted on the box. As the nullifying
field strengthened, so did the blue aura
  surrounding the mirror-surfaced cube.
Abruptly, the box flared with a light so bright that the
Kzinti had to shield their eyes and the prisoners shut
theirs tightly.
  The powerful hash lasted only an instant, faded
as quickly as it had appeared. In its place rested
an unremarkable-looking metal box devoid of its
original blue halo. Chuft-Captain
gestured curtly.
  In response, one of the low-ranking Kzinti ap-
proached the table. He eyed the box warily. This was
a duty he would have preferred to avoid, but under
direct order from Chuft-Captain such a thing was
unthinkable.
  Very carefully, very slowly, he pushed the metal
lid up and back. Nothing erupted from the box
to shatter its opener or anyone else. No stasis
field appeared to freeze the Kzin in time for the next
billion years. For all the reaction its opening
produced, the box might as well have been made of
plastic in the Enterprise's nonorganic
fabrication section.
  As soon as it was evident that nothing
  dangerous was going to happen, Chuft-Captain
shouldered his crew out of the way in his eagerness to peer
into the
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 99
  box. He reached the table, looked into the box . .
. and stood, staring quietly.
  Sulu, Spock, and Uhura all watched
  closely[*thorngg'the two humans with
apprehension, Spock with an intense curiosity.
  Chuft-Captain reached into the box and
  withdrew an object. It was small and pulsed with
an inner light of its own. Sulu stared at the form,
which was vaguely reptilian in outline and somehow
conveyed the impression of considerable size. He
blinked. The "size" was a mental suggestion,
built into the shape. The glowing object was as small
as ever.
  A certain amount of awe came into Sulu's
voice. "Could that be a solid simubologram of a
Slaver?"
  "If so," Spock whispered back to him without
taking his eyes off the object as Chuft-Captain
set it on the table, "it is the first representation of a
Slaver ever discovered. An important
historical find."
  Again Chuft-Captain reached into the stasis box.
This time he drew out a small square of what was
unmistakably raw meat. It was wrapped in a
peculiar, nonplastic transparent substance.
Chuft-Captain examined it, turning it over in his
fingers, and spoke to several other Kzinti. They
appeared to agree with him as to its
  identification.
  "It looks like fresh meat," Uhura murmured
wonderingly. "Over a billion years in
that box, and it looks fresh. I wonder what it's
doing in there."
  "It may have been left inside accidentally,"
theorized Spock. "Or perhaps whoever placed it
inside intended to come back shortly and reopen the
box, and left itself a fresh snack."
  Uhura glanced sharply[*thorngg'z sharply as
she could, restrained as she was by the police
web[*thorngg'at the Enterprise's first officer,
but there was no hint of humor in his expression and had
been none in his words.
  Chuft-Captain set the little cube of meat down
next to the solid simahologram, which might or
might not be a portrait of a Slaver. Sulu thought
he put the meat aside a little reluctantly. He
could understand that the possibility of tasting
billion-year-old meat was very tempting to a
carnivore. But Chuft-Captain was not so foolish
as
  100 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  to consume an alien substance without ample
pretesting. That was a pity. If they were lucky, it
might have poisoned him.
  Across the room, the telepath frowned again.
  Anyway, more important revelations were
at hand. Suddenly Chuft-Captain bore a look
of great excitement. This time his hands fairly
swooped down into the box. They emerged like a hawk
with a kill in its claws.
  What the Kzin commander withdrew resembled nothing
organic, however. It consisted of a silver-surfaced
bubble some seventeen
  centimeters in diameter. Attached to it was a
heavy pistol grip. In form it was awkwardly
made, and though not designed for human or Kzinti
hands, it was unmistakable as to purpose and function.
  A slot ran down one side of the
hand[*thorngg'or claw, or tentacle, or who
knew what[*thorngg'grip. Sulu could make out
six settings notched along the slot. Beside each
setting were markings in an
  unfamiliar script. A small toggle ran the
length of the slot. At present it was at the slot's
topmost setting.
  Wordlessly, an enthused Chuft-Captain turned
the device over and over in his hands.
  Anticipation spread rapidly among the other
Kzinti as they realized what Chuft-Captain
might be holding. They growled and snarled with
animation, acting like a bunch of schoolchildren
at vacation time, sounding like a section of a Federation
zoo.
  It was a deceptive demonstration. Their
unrestrained enthusiasm masked their natural
viciousness. ChuftCaptain turned, using the
object to threaten the prisoners.
  "Nothing like this has ever been found before in a stasis
box. It can only be a weapon. It must be a
weapon. A Slaver weapon! And we of Kzin are
the only ones who have it. Look close at it,
human!" He walked up to the police web, shook
the device almost under Sulu's nose. "This may
mean the end of your flatulent Federation of pacifists
and root-eaters!" He turned, walked back
to display the device to the rest of the curious group.
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 101
  "Is he right, Mr. Spock? Could he
possibly be right?" Sulu's voice had fallen
to a worried whisper.
  "I fear it is very possible, Lieutenant," the
first officer replied. Then he added a note of
caution. "However, I do not as yet see any
solid reason to share Chuft-Captain's
assurance. Certainly the device looks like a
weapon. Yet we know so little of Slaver
physiology and technology. It may not be a
weapon but something else entirely.
  "I find little comfort in that, however," he added.
"Cliven the design of the device, even allowing for
alien vagaries of technology I
m/gg*thorn]" He slipped sideways a little,
then righted himself.
  Sulu and Uhura moved, half stumbling, before
recovering their balance. They found they could now move
from the waist up. Their arms moved slowly, as
long-frozen muscles struggled to obey mental
orders.
  "They have relaxed the police web," Spock
noted aloud. "Preparatory to doing something
unpleasant with us, no doubt. Switch on your
translators."
  The three officers, their hands now free,
activated the tiny devices at their waists. Now
they could understand the Kzinti without having to rely on the
obsidianedged English of
  Chuft-Captain.
  The Kzin commander was still speaking to several members of
his crew. "Have the humans moved to the surface. Be
sure they are secured there in the police web. We
will utilize Hem to test the weapon."
  "Yes, Chuft-Captain." That response from
one of the other Kzinti, another subofficer. He
executed an odd sort of salute, then departed.
Probably, Sulu thought, to locate a suitable
place above for the . . . demonstration.
  Several other Kzinti prepared to leave with
ChuftCaptain. That worthy paused. For the first time
since Sulu had regained consciousness, he saw
Chuft-Captain talking to the forgotten member of the
crew. Scratching at the scraggly, drooping
whiskers on his face, the Kzin telepath gazed up
at his commander sadly.
  "You have had time to observe the aliens,"
ChuftCaptain said to him. "Can you read their minds?"
  The telepathy voice matched his pitiable appear
  102 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  ance. It had none of the power or strength of his
brother Kzinti. Its most distinguishing
  characteristic was a distinct whine.
  "I can read the one called Sulu with
difficulty, Chuft-Captain. The other human
is only a female. Consequently I have not wasted
my efforts on her." ChuftCaptain made a
grunting sound to indicate he understood. "The third
is a pacifistic herbivore." The whine
was augmented by
  pleading. "Surely you would not force me to delve
into such a brain!"
  "If it is necessary," was the Kzin commander's brutal
reply. "I do realize that you need time to recover from
each effort at probing." That was as far as
Chuft-Captain could go toward expressing concern for a
fellow creature. The telepath did not seem very
grateful for it.
  "Prepare to move them to the surface." At this
order from Chuft-Captain, the remaining Kzinti
spread out and drew phasers. One Kzin moved to a
nearby wall panel and touched a control. The
remainder of the police web deactivated.
  Several moments passed while the prisoners were
permitted to exercise their cramped leg muscles.
Under Chuft-Captain's direction they were surrounded
by the armed Kzinti and
  marched back out the way they had entered. Other
Kzinti rolled up the police web and carried it
behind, along with a portable power unit and set of
remote controls.
  There was a wait at the lock while the Kzinti
donned their suit armor and the prisoners were permitted
to reactivate their life-support
belts. Then in small groups they passed via the
lock to the icy ground outside.
  Once more Spock studied the terrain, only now
it was with different thoughts than the ones which had run through
his mind when they had first arrived on this world of Beta
Lyrae. Pressure ridging and earth movements had
broken and buckled the ice plain.
  they had an opportunity to break free of their
captors, they had ample cover to run to.
  After setting up the police web, most of the
Kzinti returned to the ship. That left only
Chuft-Captain, Telepath, and two others.
  Apparently the Kzinti felt
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 103
  confident of their ability to control their prisoners.
And why shouldn't they? There was really only the human
Sulu to watch. The root-eater and the female
animal could be ignored.
  Chuft-Captain responded to a buzz in his
helmet. 4"Yes"...tilde ,
  A raspy voice sounded over the suit intercom
from inside the Traitors Claw.
"Chuff-Captain, chemistry has finished
analyzing the meat that was in the stasis box. The
wrapping is composed of an unknown polymer
of metal-ceramic. The meat itself is fully
protoplasmic and is poisonous to Kzinkind."
  That last was disappointing. Chuft-Captain glanced
down at the hoped-for Slaver weapon, inspected the
silvery bubble shape thoughtfully. "What of the
simulacrum"...'7
  The response came this time not from the ship but from one
of the suited figures standing next to the commander. "The
human Sulu," the telepath said, "believes it
to be a three-dimensional representation of an
actual Slaver."
  Sulu was startled. He had almost forgotten the
presence of the telepath. It was the first time the
ragged-looking Kzin had actually given proof that it
could read their thoughts. The helmsman found it gave
him an uncomfortable, dirty feeling, as if someone
was rummaging with impunity through his private
possessions. All he could do was glare menacingly
at the telepath.
  "I agree with the human's assessment."
  Chuft-Captain was recalling the shape of the
simubologram, the impression of size and strength
that radiated from it. "It would have made a worthy
foe. Secure the prisoners."
  Helplessly Sulu, Uhura, and
Spock watched as the police web was unrolled,
charged, and activated. The test completed, the web was
turned off until the three captives were standing on
it. Then it was switched on again and all three
officers found themselves immobilized once more.
  Meanwhile, Chuft-Captain had walked to a
nearby rise of ice and roek tilde lIe wised
  tilde h tilde siive tilde be device.
It took
  104 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  him several clumsy tries to pull the trigger,
since the grip wasn't designed to fit his hand.
  Nothing happened.
  "Perhaps the small toggle," one of the watching
Kzinti suggested.
  Chuft-Captain nodded brusquely, moved the
toggle in the handle slot down toward the first notch and
its untranslatable hieroglyphs. The toggle
slid easily and freely, slipped into place as
though just lubricated. But as soon as the toggle
slipped home, the device started to twist in his hand
as if it were something alive. Chuft-Captain made
a startled sound halfway between a hiss and a snarl.
The other Kzinti and the three captives were equally
surprised.
  To his credit, Chuft-Captain did not drop
the device. The distorting writhing soon stopped. The
silvery sphere had vanished. In its place,
attached to the same unchanged hand grip, was a
small parabolic mirror with a silvery knob
located at its focal point. A series of
markings with little toggle switches of their own ran across
the back of the mirror's surface.
  After a brief examination of the device's
unexpected new configuration, Chuft-Captain
aimed it at the horizon and pulled the trigger set
in the hand grip. Again nothing happened. He lowered his
aim until he was pointing the mirror at the ground
in front of him and held the trigger down. There was
no hint of radiation or any sign that the device was
doing anything at all.
  Snarling in frustration, the Kzinti commander raised
the device until the mirror was centered directly
on Sulu. Uhura made a shocked sound.
Spock didn't say a word.
  The helmsman stood quietly, assumed a
  resigned, outwardly unaffected expression.
Chuft-Captain held the trigger down again. There was
still no indication that the device was performing any kind of
function. Perhaps, Chuft-Captain thought,
the device was acting in some fashion not readily
visible.
  "Telepath." he asked, still holding the trigger
down and centering it on Sulu, "am I not affecting
him at all? Is the life-support belt
interfering?"
  Concentrating hysterically, Telepath looked more
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 105
  man normally miserable. Uhura almost managed
to feel sympathy for the poor creature. He had not
wished his talent on himself.
  "No, Chuft-Captain," Telepath
reported, a bit too loudly, a touch too fast.
"He hears a faint whine but feels no ill
effect. There is a vibration in the material of his
metal accoutrements but[*thorn]"
  Telepath winced suddenly as if struck by a
solid blow, and reeled backward several steps.
When he recovered, he stared wild-eyed and
pleadingly at his commander. "Chuff-Captain, he is
too alien. He makes me taste yellow root
munched between flat teeth. I am made sick,
Chuft-Captain. Please!"
  "You may stop[*thorngg'for now," the Kzin
commander informed him. Grateful beyond words, the
  telepath turned away and was ill inside his
suit. "Be glad you need not read the Vulcan's
mind."
  Looking closely at the parabolic mirror and the
settings on its obverse, Chuft-Captain rumbled
musingly to himself and his subordinates, "It may be a
communications device of some kind. Or perhaps the
vibrations it produces are designed to adversely
affect members of a race now extinct. Another
setting, perhaps."
  With a thick furry finger he shifted the hand grip
toggle down to the next setting. This time he didn't
jump as the device blurred and curled like a ghost
python in his hand. The parabolic mirror
metamorphosed into a backward-facing screen
arrangement with a small lens facing forward. Several
knobs were set around the entire
  assemblage.
  Again Chuft-Captain pointed the front of the
device at Sulu and pressed the trigger. Again the
helmsman displayed no reaction. But the device
did. The screen lit softly to show Sulu standing on
the police web.
  Chuft-Captain experimented with the knobs on the
back of the screen and below it. One touch
brought a good, sharp-edged closeup of the stiff-legged
human into view. Raising his arm, Chuft-Captain
produced a magnified view of the sky above. He
lowered the device, stared at it admiringly.
  106 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  "A good, versatile, portable telescope.
They built very well, these Slavers."
  "Yet it is of no importance to us," one of the
onlooking Kzin crewmen pointed out. "We
  already have several types of good small
  telescopes."
  Chuft-Captain made a curt gesture of
  agreement, touched the toggle control once more.
Again the device convulsed. When the Kzin commander saw
the third configuration, he permitted himself a slight,
toothy smile. This one looked much more promising.
Set into the handle and trigger grip was a long
metallic tube. Several meldings and protrusions
blistered the sides of the tube, which ended in a small,
thick lens.
  Following his previous pattern,
Chuft-Captain aimed the end of the tube at
Sulu. At the last moment he shifted it slightly
to one side before pulling the trigger.
  A dense red beam of coherent light
emerged from the lens. It contacted the ground just to the right
of Sulu's feet and the police web. Ice
fragments exploded into the thin air and steam boiled
upward where the beam struck.
  Chuft-Captain released the trigger and the beam
disappeared. A modest, still-steaming hole showed in the
ice where it had struck.
  Sulu had not flinched, despite the proximity
of the small explosion. Chuft-Captain fired again,
the beam moving closer but still avoiding both the
helmsman's boots and the police web. Again
Sulu didn't move.
  The Kzin commander was moved to admit
  grudgingly, "I give you credit, human. You
are not afraid to die."
  "I'm never afraid of the familiar," Sulu
replied calmly, nodding at the Slaver device.
"That's simply a laser, and not much of one at that.
The Federation has had more effective weapons for over
a hundred years."
  Chuft-Captain permitted himself to look
annoyed. Rather angrily he adjusted the toggle to a
new setting. Once more the device contorted, as
solid in its change as a dream before awakening.
  It solidified into a short cylinder.
A flared aperture of fair size appeared at its
far end. Two flat metal projections extended
well downward from the near end of the cylinder. They
  resembled stirrups so closely that
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 107
  Uhura couldn't repress a start of
recognition. If the downward-pointed surfaces
had been attached to a small saddle, the device
would have closely resembled the ostrich saddles she
had used as a child.
  Chuft-Captain found the device's latest
manifestation far less intriguing[*thorngg'or
familiar. He bemoaned the lack of a gunsight or
anything resembling one while realizing that nothing so
lethal had adorned any of the device's previous
forms. Nothing for it but to try this new setting and get
on with the next.
  He pulled the trigger.
  Instantly he was shooting backward across the ice
in a seated, undoubtedly uncomfortable position.
Traveling at a respectable velocity he had
to exert all his strength simply to hold on to the
device.
  The other three Kzinti scrambled to clear a path
for the errant Chuft-Captain. One bit of
flame from the gushing Slaver
  whatever-it-had-become washed across the
  slower-moving telepath. He screamed in pain.
Completely out of control, Chuft-Captain shot
across the police web, straight at the three
imprisoned officers. His force was more than
adequate to carry him through the comparatively mild
restraint field the web generated.
  Unable to dodge, Uhura was struck on her
side. The impact was sufficient to overcome the
withholding force field. It knocked her off the web.
Clear of the web, she rolled over, scrambled to her
feet, and sprinted for the nearby
  Copernicus.
  Meanwhile, one of the two remaining Kzinti
noticed the injured telepath. The scorching exhaust
of the Slaver device had ruptured the smaller
Kzinti's suit. Scooping up the lighter
telepath, the Kzin turned and raced frantically
for the lighted tunnel leading to the buried ship.
Telepath was howling over his suit mike, trailing
a fog of freezing atmosphere behind him.
  "Telepath's suit has been cut," the
remaining Kzin called out to Chuft-Captain.
  "Never mind that!" The Kzin commander lay
just past the police web. Having finally succeeded in
shutting off the runaway device, he was climbing
slowly
  108 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  and painfully to his feet. He gestured toward the
Federation shuttlecraft. "The female is
escaping, fool!"
  Puzzled, the remaining Kzin's gaze traveled
to the sprinting communications officer. "What of it?"
  "Idiot!" Chuft-Captain was trying to find his
own phases. "Human females are
intelligent!"
  The remaining Kzin fought to assess this piece of
incredible information. Though he knew it to be true, it
was no less difficult for him to cope with. But he was
a Kzin warrior. Time enough to muse later. Act
now.
  Drawing his phaser, he aimed it carefully.
Uhura had almost reached the shuttlecraft when the
stun burst caught her neatly in the small of the
back. Her body arced spasmodically; she took
another couple of steps and slumped to the ground.
  Replacing the phaser at his waist, the Kzin
trudged off to pick up Uhura's recumbent form.
Meanwhile the Kzin who had thoughtfully
carried the injured telepath into the ship was returning,
moving at a fast jog.
  "What report, Flyer7" asked
Chuft-Captain, showing more concern for the neurotic
mind reader in the latter's absence than he had
previously.
  The Kzin called Flyer responded worriedly.
"His suit lost considerable pressure before I could
get him into the ship, Chuft-Captain. But he will
live."
  "Good. We will need him later."
Chuft-Captain proffered the new configuration of the
Slaver device, handling it gingerly. Flyer
examined the complex arrangement of struts and tubes.
  "Doubtless a personal rocket motor, some form
of one-being transportation device. One could place
one's feet on the pedal shapes, there, and balance
carefully. With practice, one could obtain great
individual mobility."
  "In any case, it is certainly not a
weapon," con- cluded Chuft-Captain.
  The two argued over the precise function of the
new setting as the other Kzin returned with Uhura.
They broke off their discussion long enough to guard
Spock and Sulu while the other warrior
placed the still-unconscious
  communications officer on the police web. He
retreated quickly and the web field was restored.
Uhura
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 109
  slumped slightly before the field caught her,
held her upright.
  "Uhura!" Sulu called as best he could with his
head pinned. He turned slowly to look at her.
"Lieutenant Uhura!" Her eyelids
fluttered, finally opened. She stared across at him,
recognition that she had failed dawning rapidly.
  "Nice try," Sulu attempted to reassure
her.
  It did not. "I'm slowing down." She sounded
bitter. "I used to run the hundred in record
time. How long have I been out? Did I miss
anything?"
  "Not much," Sulu told her. Unexpectedly,
he chuckled. "A lot of good they'll get out of that
propulsion setting. I wonder how much fur
Chuft-Captain lost off his backside, suit
armor or no suit armor!"
  "We have been fortunate," Spock said more
somberly, "that none of the settings thus far
employed have revealed anything superior to known
Federation technology."
  "Thus far. Look." Uhura tried to point, but
found that she couldn't, of course. Her arm was once more
held tightly motionless by the police web. Sulu
and Spock turned to watch the Kzinti again. It
appeared that Chuft-Captain had moved the toggle
control, because the Slaver device was writhing in his
hands for a fifth time.
  The new shape was a total surprise. Not
only didn't it resemble a weapon, or something
familiar like the parabolic mirror or the laser
tube, it didn't resemble anything at all.
Spock had to blink to assure himself the device had
indeed finished changing, because it looked as if it had
frozen in the middle of its new transformation, neither
complete nor incomplete but some
  non-Euclidian nebulosity in between.
  The shape should not have been. As he
  watched, it seemed to alter regularly without
moving, to twist and curl in and about itself in a bizarre,
topologically impossible fashion. And yet, it
possessed the appearance of a solid shape.
  "No gun sight," Chuft-Captain murmured
softly, revealing a fixation on a single
thought. "No evident way
  110 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  to aim it. Still, it must do something." Lifting the
device, he pulled the trigger.
  Both subordinate Kzinti were staring fixedly at
the clump of ice-covered rock Chuft-Captain was
aiming at. So none of the three warriors noticed that
as soon as their commander pulled the trigger, the yellow
glow from the tunnel behind them winked out like a drowned
candle.
  Uhura nearly fell, then caught herself and stayed
motionless. "Mr. Spock, I can move."
  "So can I," an excited Sulu whispered,
  experimentally edging one foot back and forth. "The
police web is off."
  Spock flexed the fingers of his left hand just enough
to make certain he too was no longer trapped. "The
fifth setting seems to be some sort of energy
absorber. Fascinating. We've had no indication
the Slavers possessed anything along such lines."
  "Mr. Spock, shouldn't we[*thorn]?"
  Spock cut the helmsman off. "Yes, but in
concert. When I give the word, run for the shuttle.
Remember to present as irregular a target as
possible. You traveled in a straight
line, Lieutenant Uhura, and while you cannot
outrun a phaserburst there is a chance to avoid
one."
  "Don't worry," Uhura assured him
grimly. She had no intention of being stopped so
easily again.
  "Ready?" warned Spock. "G.r'
  Adrenaline substituted for starting blocks as
Sulu and Uhura fairly exploded toward the
shuttle, twisting, dodging, zigzagging across an
imaginary obstacle course. Tired from her
previous sprint and still suffering lingering aftereffects
of the recent phaser burst she had taken, Uhura
fell behind.
  Spock wasn't even close. He had chosen a
different path toward the shuttle, one involving a
slight but critical detour. Before the startled
Kzinti could react, the first officer was racing toward
them.
  By the time their attention shifted from the nonexistent
destructive effects of the Slaver device's
fifth setting, Spock was on top of
Chuft-Captain. The Kzin commander turned a
second too late to defend himself.
  STAR TREK LOG 1 1 1
  Spock wasn't fooling with anything as subtle as
a Vulcan nerve-pinch. Both legs came up as
Spock leaped. His full weight was behind them,
  multiplied by his velocity, as he slammed
both feet into the Kzin commander, high up on the
feline's rib cage.
  Chuft-Captain doubled over as he began falling
backward, let out a loud moan, and dropped the
device. Landing on one hand and both feet, Spock
grabbed the Slaver artifact before it could bounce
twice, and was off and racing for the shuttle.
  Sulu looked behind him. Three Kzinti were now
firing their phasers, one aiming at Spock, the other
two at the more distant humans. A rise of broken
rock and ice loomed nearby, just to the helmsman's
left. Seeing that he wouldn't be able to make the
shuttle, he swerved sideways and took shelter
behind the hillock.
  Uhura tried to follow him but she was too far
behind. A burst from one of the phasers caught her again.
She stumbled toward the ground, her last conscious
thoughts filled with anger more than disappointment.
  Clutching the Slaver device tightly in one
hand, Spock continued his erratic, weaving course
across the icy surface. Phaser beams
repeatedly struck the ground where he had been heading
only seconds before. But the first officer was still running
hard and fast, and the Kzinti were unable to guess which way
he would head next.
  Deciding that the Vulcan was too far out of
range, Flyer moved to aid Chuft-Captain. The
commander was still Iying on the ice, doubled-up and clutching
at his side.
  "Chuff-Captain, what happened?"
  "I would rather not discuss it," came the sharp but
pain-ridden reply. "Help me into the ship."
  Flyer helped his commander to his feet.
Chuft-Captain winced, nearly fell as he
  straightened. Flyer said nothing. It was
  unthinkable to show sympathy.
  They started toward the tunnel leading to their ship.
As they walked, it became clear to Flyer that
ChuftCaptain had been badly hurt, for he
couldn't have walked without help. As the airlock
cycled around their
  112 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  suits and Chuft-Captain's painful wheezing
sounded in his suit helmet, Flyer was still trying
to visualizethe unthinkable.
  It had been quiet on the bridge for
long moments. The emergency lighting remained on,
bathing instruments and the four wait-oBicers in its
eerie, subdued glow. Communications with the rest of the
ship remained dead, as did computer control. The
Enterprise was still on course toward Starbase 25,
but she was flying blind.
  Kirk idly regarded the stun setting on his
phaser, resting ominously at his waist. He hefted
the tranquilizer pistol firmly. Their phasers
would remain set on stun. Lieutenant M'ress
and the other captured Caitians were as much a part of his
crew, as much personal friends, as anyone else he
worked with.
  But . . . the ship had to come first. It seemed
impossible that the four of them, alerted and
expectant, would be unable to overcome a single
slim Caitian female. However, everything else
that had happened so far had seemed impossible also.
With their communications and computer controls out, he
couldn't even switch control of the ship to the secondary
bridge.
  The phaser controls seemed to grow larger in his
eyes, the extreme end of the setting
  beckoning to him hypnotically. But before he would
change that, he'd try any alternative.
"Lieutenant Tallifiores, Lieutenant
Arex, if you two would like to try Talliflores's
plan, keeping your phasers set on stun and without
utilizing the tranquilizer pistol, you have my
permission."
  "I'd rather have the tranquilizers, sir,"
responded a doubtful communications officer..
  Kirk shook his head emphatically.
"Absolutely not."
  "We'll try anyway' sir."
  "Good luck." Kirk turned to the science station.
"Mr. Vedama, if this fails, and Mr.
Talliflores and Mr.
  SlAR TREK LOG TEN 113
  Arex fail to return . . . set your
phasertokill."...He had trouble finishing the sentence.
  "Yes, sir," his science officer said
solemnly.
  Talliflores palmed his phaser, then left the
useless communications console to stand next to a ready
Arex. "Since we have no idea where she is, sir,
we'll try the hatch closest to the accessway leading
to the deck below us."
  Moving as quietly as possible, Talliflores
and the Edoan navigator edged over the
service hatch. Kirk kept the tranquilizer
gun trained on the hatch as Arex set about undoing
the catches. The resultant opening would be large enough
for a good-sized human to fit through. The tripodal
Arex would find it a tighter squeeze, but Kirk
estimated his navigator should also be able to squeeze
through into the serviceway beyond.
  "Lieutenant Talliflores," he called
abruptly, as the two officers were preparing
to release the last catch.
  "Sir?" Talliflores was Iying flat on the
deck, working at the hatch cover.
  "You'll move to cut through the sealed doorway to the
lower decks, if it is sealed. If not, you'll go for
help. Lieutenant Arex will cover you."
  "But sir, I'd hoped to . . ."
Talliflores began.
  Kirk cut him off firmly. "Sorry,
Lieutenant. Mr. Arex has already tangled with
one of the Caitians and come off considerably better
than anyone else." He suppressed a smile.
"Mr. Arex has the advantage of being half again
as dextrous as a human."
  "Very well, sir," Talliflores
reluctantly replied.
  The last catch was released. Carefully the two
officers removed the hatch plate. When neither
phaser bolt nor squalling Caitian emerged from
the opening, Talliflores leaned forward and peered
into the dim crawlway beyond. He glanced once back
at Kirk, who no.ed[*thorngg'there could be no
talk on the bridge now, not with the hatch opened.
Talliflores crawled through, vanished into the
darkness. After a last glance back at Kirk,
Arex followed.
  It was as silent as a Klingon consulate on
Federation Day. Suddenly someone, probably
Talliflores, shouted. Muffled yelling and sounds
of a struggle followed.
  1Ibled SlAR TREK LOG
  Vedama took a step toward the hatchway.
Kirk ordered him back to the science console.
  If Arex and Talliflores couldn't overpower
or outmaneuver M'ress in the cramped
serviceway, sending in the diminutive Vedama would
only result in the loss of another officer..
Nor could he enter the fray himself and risk losing the
tranquilizer pistol, their only proven means of
stopping a berserk Caitian.
  The hidden battle continued more quietly.
Only an occasional curse, grunt, or
peculiar
  low-pitched feminine yowl punctuated the quiet.
Once, Kirk thought he heard Talliflores
cry out, but he couldn't be sure it wasn't
M'ress.
  Then it was silent on the bridge again.
  Hesitantly, hopefully, Kirk called out.
"Mr. Talliilores, Mr. Arex?"
  No response.
  Sadly, Kirk turned to face Vedama,
gestured significantly at the officer's waist.
Vedama drew his phaser, made the agonizingly
painful
  adjustment of the setting . . . and sat back
to wait.
  "Let me take the first shot, Mr. Vedama,"
Kirk instructed him. "If I miss . . ."
He didn't have to finish the directive, and had no
desire to.
  "Lieutenant M'ress?" He directed his
voice to the square black eye of the hatchway.
Again, no response. "Lieutenant M'ress, this
is the captain. I don't know what you think you're
doing, Lieutenant, but whatever you have in
mind can't be allowed. Your two companions,
M'viore and R'leez, have already been captured and
can't help you. You haven't got a chance,
Lieutenant."
  The black orifice stared back at him
mockingly.
  He tried a different approach. "Listen,
M'ress, I know you're not doing this of your own free
win. You've got to realize that yourself. Whatever's
compelling you to act this way, I understand. I'm not
holding you and the others responsible for your actions. But
this has to stop, now. You've got to fight whatever's
gripping you, M'ress! You've got to break this
madness before . . . we have to stop you."
  By ,,
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 1lSo
  It was a faint, barely audible sound, and for a
second Kirk felt he had imagined it. But a
quick glance showed that Vedama had heard, too. It was
more a cry than a challenge, and sounded as if it had
been forced out against terrific odds.
  "What is it, M'ress?" Kirk called
eagerly. "I'm listening. Talk to me, talk and
fight it."
  "I'm angrrry . . . confused. I .
. ." and she mumbled something in broken Caitian which
Kirk didn't understand. The Caitian had been
mixed with English.
  "dis . . can't . . . stop . . . myself," she
moaned, as if fighting with her own voice. "Must .
. ."
  "Must what, M'ress?" Kirk had to keep her
talking. "Tell me what you need and maybe something
can be worked out."
  "Must . . . go home. Go to Cait."
  "Your homeworld? But why?" Kirk had felt
sure mat when the Caitian's purpose had been
  revealed, it would clear up the rationale for their
bizarre behavior. He was wrong. The knowledge only
added one more confusing aspect to the whole incident.
  "Can't ... Must go to Cait-rrrr[*thorn]"
Her voice changed, overtones of anger replacing
the desperate striving for understanding. "Must go to Cait
now, fast. Give me contrrol of the ship,
Captain. Orr . . . change courrse forr
Cait."
  Kirk threw Vedama a querulous look, saw
that the science officer was equally bemused at the
imperious request. "M'ress, we can't
possibly go to Cait now. Have you forgotten
the Briamos
  conference? We have to be there on time, to represent the
Federation, or the Briamosites will probably
align themselves with Klingon. You don't want that
to happen, do you, Lieutenant? I know you're not a
traitor."
  "Must . . . go now to Cait!" It came out a
half-order, half-sob. Conflicting desires were
tearing M'ress apart.
  "You're not being sensible, M'ress was Kirk
countered, aware that none of the Caitians had been
acting sensibly recently. "It's impossible and you
know it. We can't miss the conference. Listen, give
yourself up peaceably, right now, and after the conference I
give you my word
  116 STAR TREK LOG
  we'll go directly to Cait. You don't even
have to give me a reason.
  "Captain," Vedama began, "other Starfleet
or- ders[*thorn]"
  "Lieutenant, I have the authority to overrule
any subsequent Fleet orders in order
to respond to any emergency threatening my
ship[*thorngg'barring a Federationwide danger."
He turned back to the open hatchway.
  "Did you hear that, Lieutenant?" he asked,
raising his voice slightly. "I have the authority
to order the Enterprise to Cait immediately following the
conference's conclusion. I'll put it in the official
log, if you want." No response. "Are you
willing to bargain, M'ress? Will that satisfy you?"
  "Can't . . . help," came the threatening yet
pitiable response from somewhere beyond the hatch. "If you
will . . . not orrderr us to Cait now, give . . .
contrrol to me. Orr . . . I will . . . I must
. . . take overr yourr brridge."
  "You can't do it, M'ress." Kirk sounded more
positive than he felt. "I know that you're
partially immune, somehow, to phasers set for stun.
Lieutenant Vedama's phaser is set to kill.
He won't shoot except as a last resort.
I'm holding a tranquilizer pistol, M'ress.
Dr. McCoy prepared a serum keyed to the
Caitian metabolism. That's how we knocked out
M'viore and R'leez. The serum will do that to you,
too.
  "You can't possibly overwhelm two of us from the
serviceway and take over the badge before a
security detail finally gets here. They're
probably on their way right now, running the
turbolift on bypass controls and power, or coming
up through the serviceway access below us. They won't
have my orders to restrain them, M'ress," he said
desperately. "They won't have their phasers set for
stun, or wait for me to fire first. Don't you
see? You can't possibly win. There's no way you
can take over the bridge."
  "Tell . . . that to . . . Arrex and . . .
Talliflorres," came the half-taunting,
half-sorrowful reply.
  "Captain?"
  "Just a minute, Mr. Vedama. Lieutenant
  M'ress, let me think about your demand. Give
me just a minute."
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 117
  "Don't want to . . . hurrtanyone,"
M'ress insisted, sounding as if she meant it. "But
must go to . . . Cait . . . now!"
  "What is it, Vedama?" Kirk whispered.
  "I've bypassed normal communications and
computer network, sir," he murmured tightly.
"We have intership communications again. Several
sections are calling steadily, trying to contact us.
Several sound frantic."
  "That's not surprising. If we can just
stall her a little longer . . . Give me
Security."
  "Try your chair pickup, sir."
  Kirk directed his voice toward the command chair
pickup, his gaze never leaving the gaping hatchway.
"Security, this is the bridge."
  "Yeoman Dickerson here, Captain. It's
good to hear from you. What's going on up there?"
  "Lieutenant Talliflores and Lieutenant
Arex have been stunned. Mr. Vedama and I are
  holding off Lieutenant M'ress. She's in the
serviceway encircling the bridge. You must try
to break through the serviceway door or come up the
turbolift. She's cut all bridge power. Under
no condition, except as a last resort to preserve
the integrity of the ship, is anyone to use a phaser
set higher than stun. Is that understood?"
  "Yes, sir, but[*thorn]"
  "Is that understood, mister?"
  "Yes, sir." The voice sounded disappointed, but
the acknowledgment sent a wave of relief over
Kirk.
  "Then get moving, Yeoman. Bridge out."
He glanced quickly back at Vedama. "Who
else is calling, Lieutenant?"
  "Sick Bay has priority, sir."
  "Put them through."
  A pause, then an anxious familiar voice
sounded over the chair speaker. "Jim, are you all
right? Jim?"
  "I'm okay, Bones. So far. M'ress has
us pinned down here, but I think we have her trapped as
well. What's been happening at your end?"
  "Jim, we've been doing frantic research on
Caitian disorders. That's been part of the problem."
  1 1 tilde STAR TREK LOG TEN
  Kirk frowned. "I don't think I understand,
Bones."
  "We've been looking for a disease, a physical
malady, something rare and unusual. It took a
while for me to realize that while the Caitians'
behavior might be extreme, it might have a
perfectly normal cause."
  "That sounds contradictory, Bones."
  "Jim, I think I know what's causing them
to act the way they have. Has it occurred to you that all
the seriously injured
personnel[*thorn)'security and
otherwise[*thorngg'h been men? Or rather, male?
And that the women who were part of the
  eight-person security team that was assaulted were
incapacitated but not harmed? Listen to this, Jim."
  There came a pause, and then a horrible
screeching and yowling sounded over the
  speaker. It was a frantic, uncontrolled din,
and yet somehow it seemed sorrowful rather than
ferocious.
  "Bones, what the[*thorn]?"
  "That's M'viore and R'leez, Jim," came
  McCoy's reply. They're both conscious again.
I've got them both strapped down so they won't
hurt themvs[*thorngg'or anyone else. Needed
extra straps to keep them from breaking free. Jim,
the level of Caitian-equivalent adrenaline in
their blood is unbelievable! But what's most
important is their Caitrogen hormone level.
Absolutely crazy. Sent my diagnostic
indicators right off the graphs.
  "I've given them the moderating dosage
  necessary to bring their hormone levels back to normal
. . . the dosage they should have received normally. They
should both be sensible in a couple of hours."
  "Dosage they should have received?" Kirk thought he
saw motion at the hatchway, but decided he was
imagining things. The tension had grown worse
with the passing minutes. "What are you talking about,
Bones?"
  "When we couldn't find anything physically wrong
with them, I tried to imagine what could induce a
Caitian to go insane like they did. Caitians
usually control their emotions fairly well. I
thought about drugs, the presence of certain stimulants
in their food, maybe
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 1 l9
  even accidental self-hypnotism. But the
chemists couldn't find anything foreign in their recent
menus.
  "That's when it occurred to me that maybe they weren't
ingesting something they regularly took, instead of having
eaten something they shouldn't have. The chemists were put off
because their blood tested normal, except for the
excessive hormone level. I tied that in with the
suddenly realized fact that all the badly injured
security personnel had been male, Jim.
Couple that with the fact that our three Caitians all
happen to be female[*thorn]"
  A definite shadow appeared at the hatchway.
Kirk fired reflexively. The syringe-dart
struck metal somewhere beyond the blackness and the shadow
vanished.
  "Neither of the ensigns is coherent enough to give me
any help, but their behavior fits what I
discovered in the limited Caitian biology
references in the medical records. They take
biannual doses of a drug called pheraligen, which
moderates their body's production of Caitrogen.
And that in turn suppresses the otherwise extreme
reactions Caitian females used to have at this time
of the year."
  "This time of year . . ." Kirk finally had the
answer to the mystery.
  "Apparently," McCoy continued, "the
  pheraEgen is programmed into their diets in
innocuous-tasting supplements, Jim. They're so
used to receiving it without having to think about it, they
didn't realize what was happening to them. Since the
regimen is in no way a treatment for a disorder, I
didn't know about it. Pro- gramming it becomes the
responsibility of the science life-support
section, not medical."
  Vedama had turned pale. "My department,
Captain, my department. But I've never had
to[*thorn]"
  "And Spock isn't here to check on it.
Probably the facts are resting right in his
daily work-log: Caitian female personnel,
semiannual pheraligen dose due. So that's why
they've been acting the way they have."
  "Right, Jim. All it takes is a standard
dose of pheraligen to counter the excessive hormone
production and they'll return to normal."
  "That's all very well and good for M'viore and
  120 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  R'leez, Bones, but what am I going to do with
M'ress?"
  A phaser bolt erupted from the upper
  right-hand corner of the hatch opening. Aimed with
difficulty, it struck several centimeters from
Kirk's right foot. Nerves tingling from the nearness
of the beam, he abandoned the
  command chair and limped around behind it. Vedama
crouched lower but didn't abandon the science console.
  "Bones, M'ress isn't sensible enough to understand
what you've been saying, though I think she's trying
to. She can't control herself, and I think maybe
desperation's making her frustrated enough to kill. She
wants to take over the bridge and change course for
Cait."
  "Not surprising, Jim," came McCoy's
voice over the open bridge speakers.
"She's only reacting the way primitive
Caitian physiology's instructing her to, and
there are no Caitian males on board. If there
were, none of this trouble would have happened. That's why
our security personnel were attacked, and then not
killed. Even with their hormone level driving them
insensible, they still retained enough knowledge of who they were to stop
before committing murder. The injuries to our security
teams were inflicted out of frus- tration, not malice.
You've got to get one of those tranquilizer darts
in her."
  A second phaser burst poured from the
  hatchway. This time Kirk couldn't be sure the
beam was still set to stun.
  "She's becoming hysterical, Bones!" Kirk
tried to spot me elusive lieutenant, saw
only black in the hatchway opening. "She
doesn't dare use too powerful a setting, though.
If she damages the controls, she won't be able
to try turning us toward Cait."
  "Captain, if you've no objection . . ."
  "What's that? Who's speaking? Scotty, is that
you?"
  "Aye, Captain. I've got an idea
I've been working on since Dr.
McCoy found out what was wrong with the two ensigns.
With your
  permission, I'd like to give it a try. I know this
business isn't my department, but[*thorn]"
  Kirk ducked as a phaser beam scored the top
of the
  STAR TREK BOG TBN 121
  command chair. "Anything nonlethal, you've got
my permission, Scotty. Go ahead with it."
  Kirk didn't know how long they could continue
to stall M'ress. In between useless exchanges of
phaser fire he conjured up every argument he could think
of. None of them would have done any good, save for the
fact that M'ress retained just enough sanity and sense
to respond to them. So she listened and reacted, even
if her
  comments were not particularly sensible.
  Of course, Kirk knew he might be deluding
himself in thinking that he was keeping her mind busy. She
might be waiting for him to grow so involved in his
chatter that he would drop his guard and allow her a
reasonable charge at the command chair. Eventually, he
knew, she would have to come to the inevitable decision that he
wasn't going to voluntarily relinquish control of the
ship, and that her time was running out.
  That moment came sooner than she expected or
Kirk had hoped.
  A hissing noise reached the bridge. It came
from somewhere beyond the open hatchway.
  "Captain," M'ress yowled, "call . . .
them off. Tell them to . . . stop trrying to cut
. . . in."
  "I can't," he lied. "They're operating
  independently of my orders, M'ress."
  Her voice rose unsteadily. "I'll use my
. . . phaserr on the firrst one who comes thrrough
the opening!"
  "Lieutenant, you haven't killed anyone yet!
Fight what's controlling your mind. We know what
your trouble is now!"
  Not surprisingly, M'ress refused to listen.
  There sounded a sharp span" of stressed metal
giving way. Any second Kirk expected to hear
the slight, deadly hum of M'ress's phaser as
she made good her threat on whoever was coming through the
opened serviceway.
  Instead, he heard a strange yowling from the
Caitian unlike anything heard thus far. It was
followed by a distinct phut, then silence.
  A figure started to emerge from the
hatchway opening. Kirk raised the tranquilizer
pistol, then hesitated.
  122 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  So did Vedama. The figure that stepped into the
dim light of the bridge would have caused them to fire
instantly, except for the fact that it was carrying its
head beneath one arm!
  "Scotty! It worked."
  "Aye, Captain." The Enterprise's chief
engineer looked relieved. He gestured back
toward the hatchway. Sounds of moving feet came from
behind it. "Dr. McCoy's inside now. And a whole
crew of techs. If the damage M'ress caused
isn't too serious, and I Diana think it could
be, bridge functions should be"[*thorngg'the
regular lights abruptly came back on and
Kirk blinked at the bright, familiar
illumination[*thorn)'"...restored quickly." Scott
permitted himself a slight smile of professional
pride.
  "What about Lieutenant M'ress?"
  "Dr. McCoy says she'll be fine,
Captain," Scott replied, "as soon as the
pheraligen takes effect on her system and she's
had a couple of hours' rest."
  Walking forward, he deposited an object in his
right hand on the navigation-helm console. It was a
twin to the dartpistol Kirk still held.
  As he approached, Kirk grew conscious of a
peculiar, powerful odor emanating from the chief
engineer. His nose twitched. Scott noticed it and
grinned.
  "Strong stuff, Captain. That smell's the
only thing that made it work. Dr. McCoy
synthesised the appropriate male Caitian
pheromones to complement this costume." He indicated
the furry, catlike suit he was wearing. I'm not
so sure the costume alone would have let me get within
shooting range, but the pheromones fooled
her[*thorngg'or overpowered her. We only had
to dis- tract her for a couple of seconds, long enough
for me to get a syringe into her." He gestured at the
dart-pistol resting near the helm controls.
  Kirk was putting his own weapon down. The
crisis was all over, but the tenseness drained slowly
from him. "What ever made you think of such a crazy
idea, Scatty?"
  The engineer looked embarrassed. "From a costume
ball I went to, Captain, several years ago.
I went dressed as a Fiorellian and a
real female Fiorellian mis
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 123
  took me for a male of her species.
To complicate matters, she was costumed as a human
female. So it was doubly disconcertin'."
  "I can imagine," agreed Kirk, slowly
resuming his position in the command chair.
  "Captain?"
  Kirk looked over at the science station. "What
is it, Mr. Vedama?" When he saw the
lieutenant's position, he swiveled fully
to face hirn, frowning. "What's wrong?"
  Vedama was standing stiffly before his console,
unsmiling. "I hereby present myself for arrest,
sir."
  "At ease, Lieutenant." Vedama
relaxed, but only slightly. "It wasn't your
fault. It wasn't anybody's fault, except
maybe the Slavers'. They had the poor timing
to present us with one of their stasis boxes at a time
when Mr. Spock had to be two places at
once. I'm sure that by tomorrow or the next day, in
routinely checking over his schedule, you would have
spotted the instructions to program the pheraligen
into the Caitians' diet. It was bad
luck and timing that their metabolism chose this
particular time to shift into high gear.
  "In fact, it's surprising you haven't
overlooked more than one thing. You're doing your best,
Lieutenant, and so far that's been quite
  satisfactory. Resume your post."
  "Yes, sir." Vedama's salute was crisp.
  Scott had slipped out of the suit. "Bloody
hot, Captain. I don't understand how the
Caitians can stand their own fur."
  "They probably wonder, like all naturally
furred creatures in the Federation, how we humans
can run around almost naked, by their standards."
  Kirk stood as several figures emerged from the
hatchway. A limp form was passed to one tall
medical technician. He handled the comatose
M'ress easily. Her eyes were closed tight,
arms and legs dangling like pale vines.
  "Sick Bay immediately, Ensign," ordered a
muted voice from somewhere behind the
  hatchway.
  "Yes, Doctor," acknowledged the tech, moving
toward the turbolift doors.
  124 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  Kirk was about to ted the ensign that the lift
didn't work, when the doors slid aside
obediently at the man's request and shut behind him.
At the rate they were going, it wouldn't take
Scotty's crew long to have the bridge functioning
at full efficiency again.
  "They'll all be all right, Bones?" he asked
the figure emerging from the hatchway.
  "I think so, Jim. Except for the mental
incon- venience they might suffer for a while."
  "How do you mean, Bones?"
  McCoy walked over to retrieve first
Scott's discarded tranquilizer pistol, then
Kirk's. "Consider what they've done, Jim.
They've tried to take over the ship. In the
process they put a respectable number of their
fellow crew members in Sick Bay with assorted
scratches and other wounds. Generally they've behaved
in a very im- mature as well as aggressive
fashion.
  "Of course, they had no control over their
actions. Matter of fact, when they come around in a
few hours I doubt that any of them, M'ress
included, will remember much of what they did. The
difficulties will come," he continued after a brief
pause, "when their companions tell them
what they've been up to.
  "That will upset them enough, but it's the reason behind
their actions which will trouble them the most. M'ress will stand
it better than M'viore and R'leez because she's
an officer, but I don't doubt that the two ensigns
will take a good deal of kidding about what happened. I
think we're going to have to cope with three very
embarrassed Caitians."
  "But everyone will know," Kirk said, "that they weren't
responsible for their actions, that they had no control
over the way they were acting."
  "Easy to say, Jim, but then we're not the ones
who have to handle the fact that we lost all composure and
intelligence and spent a day acting like, well, like
animals."
  Kirk turned to the blank viewscreen, thought
hard. "I think the Caitians will handle any joking
competently, Bones. After all, they can always use the
argument that we humans act like
  animals all the time."
  STAR TREK LOG 125
  X
  Sulu found himself running deeper and deeper into the
jumbled landscape, dodging nervously around towering
blades of ice, scrambling atop
slick-surface boulders to whom the proximity of
organic matter was a radical if nonperceived
event.
  The terrain grew steadily more grotesque in
outline, the horizon increasingly tortured. One
would have thought two rivers of ice had rushed headlong
into one another here, jammed together like massive white
wrestlers. Ice and stone pressed and piled over and
atop each other to create a chalcedony desert
flavored by Bosch. At least the chaotic
topography favored Sulu's retreat. No
phaser beam stabbed at him from behind. Let the Kzinti
follow him if they could[*thorngg'he'd have them
ambushing each other.
  Sulu turned another ice block half the
size of the shuttlecraft, only to see a figure
rushing at him. Startled, he tried to back away.
Then he recognized the familiar shape and began
moving toward it.
  "Mr. Spock!" Sulu let out an exhausted
but relieved sigh as the first officer neared. "y
thought you were one of the Kzinti."
  Spock replied simply by holding up the
object he carried. "I have the device,
Lieutenant."
  "Yes, but they've got Uhura. At least, I
expect they do. I'm sure I saw her fall before
I got out of the open. They've also got subspace
radio and have us cut off from the Copernicus. If
they want to, they can wait for us to starve while they
call for help from the nearest Kzinti base."
  "No, they cannot," Spock informed him with re-
markable self-assurance, "or rather, they will not."
  Sulu re-examined the options open to the Kzinti
that he had just voiced, and bewilderedly could find no
reason why they could not do exactly what he'd
claimed. "Why can't they?"
  126 STAR TREK
  "Because I kicked Chuft-Captain." When
Sulu showed no sign of comprehending, the first officer
elaborated. "Consider, Mr. Sulu.
  Chuft-Captain has been attacked by an
  herbivorous pacifist, an eater of roots and
leaves, one who according to Kzinti tradition not only
does not fight, but does not resist. Furthermore,
I gave the ultimate insult subsequent to my
suc- cessful attack, by leaving Chuft-Captain
alive."
  Spock moved to the far corner of the monolith,
peered cautiously around it.
  "Chuff-Captain's honor is at stake,
Lieutenant. Before he can seek outside help he
must have personal revenge in order to absolve
himself."
  "Now I understand, sir. That gives us some time,
then." Sulu hesitated, eyeing the first officer
intently and with admiration. "You did plan it that
way?"
  "Of course." Spock seemed surprised that
Sulu should think of any other possibility.
  "Then as long as you stay free, the Kzinti can't
or won't do anything until Chuft-Captain's
had his chance to regain his reputation." He looked
suddenly concerned. "But they could use
  Lieutenant Uhura as bait to trade for the
Slaver device."
  The first officer examined the enigmatic construction
he held. "That is so, Lieutenant. However, to this
point we have not seen it display anytlung more powerful
than devices and
  instruments Starfleet already has. I would actually
go so far as to say that in several cases present
Starfleet equipment is superior to some of the
device's manifested forms."
  "Maybe so." Sulu looked thoughtful.
"But I have a feeling, Mr. Spock, that that won't
hold true. It doesn't make sense for it
to hold true. All those different settings," and he
pointed to the toggle gauge, "those different
functions. Why so many varied ones and why conceal them
behind the initial, inert, bubble shape?" He was
studying the device and thinking hard.
  "What do you think, Mr. Sulu? What could be
behind such careful concealment of functions and their
multiplicity?"
  "I'm not sure, but I can imagine one
possibility. Suppose this thing belonged to a spy
or espionage
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 127
  agent of some sort? He could carry the bubble
shape around openly. Maybe the bubble shape
corresponds to some billion-year-old personal
ornament or decoration, like a bracelet, for instance.
And a spy would be just the one who could make good use of
something that looked harmless but could be made to serve as
an energy absorber, a telescope, perhaps a
communicator of some kind, a personal
transport."
  "I acknowledge your expertise in the field of
weaponry, Mr. Sulu," said Spock
readily, "but I do not see how you can determine a
possible
  ownership classification."
  "Just look at it, Mr. Spock." Sulu was
convinced of his own supposition now. He took the
device and held it up to the faint light.
Lime-yellow gleamed on its metal surface,
reflecting the life-support aura of both
officers. "All these settings. I admit we
don't know that a common Slaver soldier or even
an ordinary citizen couldn't handle them all, but
to what end? For a soldier, only the laser is an
effective weapon. The other functions aren't necessary
for an ordinary warrior's single objective:
to kill the enemy. An ordinary Slaver citizen,
if there were such a creature, wouldn't require that a
multitude of functions be so cleverly disguised.
But they are disguised.
  "For that matter, it wouldn't be necessary for a warrior
to have such an elaborately concealed set of
functions. If the device produced a shield,
well, that would be useful. Possibly the
telescope, and certainly the energy absorber. But
a
  communicator, a telescope, and the
rocket transport? A soldier might have need of
them all, but why put them all into a single device
of tremendous technological complexity? No, the
thing is too intricate[*thorngg'unless intended for
someone who has to hide all those functions in a
single place."
  "Assuming it is a dangerous device intended for
use by someone who doesn't wish it to look like that,"
Spock finally replied, with equal
  thoughtfulness, "the Slavers would have wanted to keep
its secrets a secret. They would never have wanted
a potential enemy to know that the device was anything
other than a silvery bubble attached to a handle.
If so, and if we follow
  128 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  your reasoning through to its logical conclusion, it
seems reasonable to assume that the device
possesses a self-destruct setting also."
  Sulu indicated the toggle switch, which rested at
the bottom of its slot. "But we've seen all the
phases, all five manifestations of the device."
  "Perhaps not." Spock took the device back,
turned it over in his hand. "There is the null
setting."
  "Null setting, sir?"
  "The first one, where the toggle was originally set.
It is marked with a hieroglyph." One finger traced
the strange writing while Sulu looked puzzled.
"The device appears to be without function, at this
setting. But then why should that setting be present in the
first place?" Spock had the look of a mathematics
professor on the trail of an errant ingredient
in a catastrophe-theory problem. "Why not simply
leave the device set at the telescope setting?
There is no reason an ordinary person, Slaver
or Vulcan or human, could not carry a small
telescope about with him. Nor does the first setting
correspond to a safety lock of any sort,
since Chuft-Captain was able to move the toggle
easily to the other five settings."
  Sulu shrugged, took the device back, and
indifferently nudged the toggle up to the top of its
slot. Immediately the device dissolved in his hands, the
fifth mode returning once more to the featureless
silvery bubble shape.
  It certainly looked harmless enough.
  "Maybe," Sulu began thoughtfully, "it's the
key to some kind of hidden setting, Mr. Spock.
Maybe this manifestation is intentionally innocent.
If we[*thorn]" He stopped as a
rumble like a distant earthquake sounded.
  Beneath them the ground trembled. They
  turned in the direction of the sound.
  Just over the rim of the highest ice block, a
shallow cone shape with a flat base was rising
steadily spaceward. Boulders and huge chunks of
ice fell in a sparkling rain from its flanks. It
was the Traitor's Claw, the Kzin ship, hatched
from its place of concealment.
  Narrow projections protruded from the edge of the
cone. They looked suspiciously like weapons,
weapons
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 129
  which a mere police vessel shouldn't be quipped
with. Sulu and Spock hugged the protective
overhang of the massive boulder next to them, trying
to slip their revealing life-support auras wholly
beneath the shielding mass.
  Within the observation room of the ship,
Chuft-Captain glanced back once to assure
himself that the human female remained frozen on the
police web. She glared back at him with
sufficient animation to tell him that she was alert and
fully cognizant of what was taking place around
her.
  In one massive paw he held a
communicator, standard StarDeet issue. He
addressed himself to it while staring out the main port, which
provided a moving view of the jumbled ice plain beneath
the slowly moving ship. Neither of the two escaped
prisoners, either the Vulcan or the human Sulu,
were visible. That was hardly surprising. They were not
fools and must have heard the Traitor's Claw
lift. By now they should sensibly be well concealed in
the crazy-quilt rocks below.
  It would do them no good. Being familiar with human
and Vulcan psychological orientation,
Chuft-Captain knew that the possession of the human
female was sufficient to bring the Slaver device
once more into his hands.
  "This is the Traitor's Claw calling
Lieutenant Sulu," he said into the communicator.
  "Chuff-Captain speaks to you. We have the
female prisoner. She is in good health, a
condition dependent solely on your next actions.
Will you bargain with us for the Slaver device or must we
take harsh action to convince you?"
  There followed a respectable pause during which no
response was forthcoming. That did not bother
ChuftCaptain. Any warrior would first
consider every possible alternative before surrendering.
He expected no less of the human.
  "If you do not reply," he said into the
communicator when a reasonable amount of time had
passed without an answer from below, "it will not be
pleasant for her."
  Uhura might have given Chuft-Captain a
reply, but it wouldn't have done her any good. She
stood paralyzed
  130 S1AR TREK LOG TEN
  on the police web, kept silent, and considered
her predicament. It was probably fortunate for
her, despite Chuft-Captain's patience, that
Telepath was not present to inform him of her hostile
thoughts.
  The Traitor's Claw cruised back and forth
over the icefields in a regular spiral
pattern, searching the ragged formations below for traces
of the escaped prisoners.
  "Still no sign of them, Chuft-Captain,"
Flyer reported from his position at the controls.
  Chuft-Captain snarled his acknowledgment, tried
to repress a stab of pain and keep it out of his
voice as he spoke into the communicator again. "I
repeat, Lieutenant Sulu, we have the
female human as hostage. You have something that we
want. We will trade her life for the Slaver
device."
  Spock and Sulu remained well hidden beneath the
overhanging lip of weathered rock. Together they had
listened intently to Chuft-Captain's demands. Now
Spock stared meaningfully across at his companion.
  "Chuff-Captain's offer neglects certain
important details, Lieutenant Sulu.
Answer him."
  Sulu palmed his own communicator, flipped it
open, briefly considered his reply before speaking.
"This is Sulu. You've taken care of
Lieutenant Uhura. What about Mr. Spock and
myself? If we're not included we can't consider your
offer."
  "You must surrender anyway," the Kzin com-
mander's raspy voice said over the tiny speaker
grid. "You cannot reach your shuttlecraft. There is
no escape for you. But I will give a chance. I
offer Mr. Spock single combat."
  "Not interested," Sulu said immediately.
  Spock only nodded. "Chuff-Captain must
fight me. They could beam this entire region on low
power, probably kill us without damaging the
Slaver device. But he cannot risk letting me
die without regaining his personal Donor."
  Back on board the Traitor's Claw,
  Chuft-Captain's claws contracted
reflexively as he clutched tightly at the arm of
his seat. Leaning to his left partially concealed the ends
of the pale bandages and his uni
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 131
  form hid the the rest. His tail switched lightly
above the deck, projecting backward through the slot
provided by the Kzin chair.
  "Why do you refuse? I am as the Vulcan
left me," he informed the communicator, "with two
ribs broken. I have not had them set. He may
conceivably kill me."
  Sulu hesitated, shut off the communicator
while he watched his superior. Spock's attention
was still on the sky, searching for the patrolling ship, but the
kelmsman knew that Spock had heard
  Chuft-Captain's words as clearly as he had.
"What about what he says, Mr. Spock? Could
you?"
  "I kicked him over one heart, but Kzinti
ribs have vertical bracing in addition to the
horizontal bracing found in humans and
Vulcans. His injury would still be severe, but far from
crippling." He thought a moment, then added, "I
compute the odds of my defeating Chuft-Captain in
  hand-to-hand combat at sixteen to one against, and that
is assuming his injuries are as he claims."
  Sulu flipped the communicator on again.
"Sorry, offer refused," he said tersely.
Putting the deactivated communicator away, he
resumed his examination of the Slaver device,
puzzling over Spock's suspicion of the innocent
silver bubble shape.
  Chuft-Captain stared out the fore port, at the
endless fields of ice and ragged stone. Eventually,
he turned his attention to the figure standing silent and
frozen behind him. Uhura glared back at him.
  "They think very little of you."
  "Wrong." She wished she could scratch her right
thigh. "They don't think much of you."
  That provoked a vicious growl from the Kzin
commander. Uhura wasn't impressed. Let them
continue to consider her a dumb female like those of their
own species. She would never give them an excuse
to call her a coward. When
  Chuft-Captain turned his baleful gaze away
from her and back to the fore port without saying
anything else, she felt as if she had won a
small but significant victory.
  Sulu leaned back against their concave shelter, his
  132 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  life-support aura compressing to a thin
  lime-yellow line against his back. Again he
examined the Slaver device in great detail. Again
he found nothing faintly resembling another toggle
switch, hidden button, or any other kind of
control that could conceivably activate some unknown
setting.
  Turning the device once more, in the vague hope
he might still somehow have overlooked something, Sulu
became conscious of something he had not noticed before.
He had had the hand grip in his right hand and the silver
sphere in the other. When he'd turned the device this
last time, he was certain the sphere had moved
slightly. He used his right hand again on the argent
globe. Yes, it definitely moved!
  Excited, he stood clear of the rock wall.
Gripping the sphere firmly this time, he twisted
sharply to one side. Nothing. He twisted in the
opposite direction. This time the globe not only
moved, it turned halfway around on its axis.
  The familiar blurring distorted the
device. This time, when it coalesced, the sphere was
gone. In its place was a cone with its apex facing
outward. The cone had a rounded base that blended
  smoothly into the hand grip. The configuration was so
simple that Sulu almost shrugged it off as merely
another disguise form and twisted the sphere back. But
maybe the thing did something, despite its innocuous
appearance.
  One small, added shape gave credence to that thought.
A tiny, round transparency was
  emplaced between the cone and the hand grip. A
peculiarly arranged series of tiny lines were etched
into it. They resembled an asterisk more than anything
else.
  Spock leaned forward as soon as the sphere shape
had given way to the cone. Now he ran a finger over
the strangely engraved little lens.
  Chuft-Captain, he knew, would also have
interpreted that tiny but significant transparency
at first glance. "A self-destruct mechanism would
not have a gun sight."
  "No, it wouldn't," agreed Sulu readily.
"Let's see what this setting does." Widening his
stance, he raised the device as if it were an
old-fashioned pistol. Aiming at a
point on the distant horizon, he pulled the
trigger.
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 133
  An intensely blue beam sprang from the point
of the cone, crossed into space. Slowly the
helmsman lowered his arm until the blue line, which
remained constant as long as he held the trigger
down, touched the lowest ridge of rock and ice. There
was a brilliant Dare of pure white light.
Sulu shut his eyes, blocking out the powerful
radiance, then took his finger off the trigger. The
glare vanished slowly, like a dying ember. In its
place appeared a thick, rising cloud of dense
gas and smoke mixed with vaporized ice and stone.
  Sulu opened his eyes, stared in horror at the still
growing pillar of boiling gases.
  "We can't let them have tst"
  "Fascinating," was all Spock said immediately. His
attention was held by the tower of carbonized solids.
"No laboratory in the Federation has ever
produced a hand weapon of such power." He squinted
into the distance. The cloud was finally beginning to dissipate,
and he could see through it a little.
  "The entire crest of the ice monolith you fired
at appears to have vanished. Total conversion
of matter to energy at this distance, and by a simple hand
weapon."
  "An army of Knin warriors armed with these would be
invincible," Sulu observed in awe, gazing at the
simple cone shape he held. "One man could
fight off a small ship. The whole galaxy would be
their dinner table."
  "And it was, Mr. Sulu, it was. I do not
imagine they were called Slavers because of their benign
dispositions."
  "If we . . ." Sulu started to add, but something
he saw caused him to pause. A rising wave of
ice particles and small gravel was racing toward
them like a dark cloud from the region of the
  destruction, carried on a disturbed wind front
by the shock of the vaporisation.
  "Hit the dirt!" he yelled.
  Both men curled up beneath their overhanging boulder,
tried to press themselves into the solid stone. But like the
power of the Slaver weapon, the shock wave when it
arrived was far stronger than either had imagined. Both
men were lifted from their places and slung through the
  atmosphere. Sulu did something to the
  134 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  Slaver device just before he hit the
ground hard. Spock landed nearby, no more gently.
A faint reverse shock whistled over them a moment
later, stirring both immobile bodies like sawdust
on a plate. They did not move.
  A few minutes later a slim, Battened
shape thrummed overhead. In its observation chamber,
one seated Kzin let out a snarl of triumph at
something just glimpsed below.
  "There they are, Chuft-Captain!"
  The injured commander leaned forward,
  recognised the two motionless bipedal shapes.
"Peculiar. There must have been a ground-level
aftershock. They were too exposed to cope with it." He
grinned. "How fortunate for us. Set down as
close to them as you can manage, Pilot."
  "Yes, honored one." The pilot operated
  controls and the Traitor's Claw began a slow,
smooth descent. The "stolen" police vessel
touched down only a few meters from where the bodies
of Spock and Sulu rested unmoving on the icy
surface.
  Chuft-Captain glanced over at Flyer.
"Bring them in. Carefully."
  "Yes, Chuft-Captain." Flyer saluted,
turned, and headed for the airlock.
  While he was gone the rest of the Kzinti waited
anxiously in the observation chamber. Uhura
regarded the aliens with interest. She had hopes that
Sulu and Spock were feigning
  unconsciousness, perhaps in a bold attempt
to get themselves taken on board the Kzinti ship, where
with the aid of the Slaver weapon they might have a chance
to overpower her captors. So she received a rude
shock when the party of suited Kzinti returned,
carrying two limp forms that showed no hint of
consciousness.
  "They are alive, Chuft-Captain," Flyer
reported to his commander as the other Kzinti stood the
two former prisoners back on the police web, which
had been turned off to allow them to be placed, but which
was then quickly switched back on to keep them upright.
  "They have sustained some bruising, mostly internal,
from what our physician told me," Flyer said.
"Their
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 135
  life-support belts cushioned them enough to keep
them alive. Without those belts, I am sure they
would have been scattered in pieces across the ice."
  "Some bruising, yes." Chuft-Captain's right
hand rubbed at his cracked ribs, touched
gingerly at the bandages wrapped around his chest.
Flyer handed him an object and the commander gazed down
at it speculatively. "Meanwhile we have the
problem of this."
  His uncertainty was understandable. Before being knocked
unconscious, Sulu had managed to twist the cone
shape. It had once more reverted to the maddeningly
familiar silver sphere.
  Both officers regained their senses together. Sulu
saw that the Kzinti had no interest in them for the moment.
The whole crew were offering suggestions dealing with the
Slaver weapon. Much yelling and growling was
evident. Everyone held a different opinion, it
seemed. But eventually, simply by fiddling
incessantly with the device, one of them discovered the
sphere twist. Or rather, a sphere twist. Somehow it
seemed to Sulu that the globe had been turned in a
manner different from the way he had done it.
  Expectedly, the silver ball vanished. But the
cone shape did not appear. Instead, the sphere was
replaced by a smaller, rose-hued globe. A
small grid was set into the top of the ball.
  None of the formerly talkative Kzinti
  volunteered an opinion as to the possible function
of this new manifestation. The device had
proven too many wrong already, and none of them
  wished to be embarrassed in front of
  Chuft-Captain with an inaccurate appraisal
of the device's capability.
  So it was Chult-Captain who finally had to ask for
theories. "What would this be?" He pointed a thick
finger at the small, reddish ball.
  "I have no idea," Flyer said quickly. He
glanced thoughtfully at a gauge set into the side of
his armored suit. "Whatever it does, it generates
power."
  That revelation produced more confused
  yowling and growls from the assembled Kzinti.
  Nor were they the only ones speculating on the
device's newest, and most surprising,
  manifestation.
  136 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  "There's a grid set into it," Spock said
to Uhura and Sulu. "It may be another
communications setting. Possibly related in some
way to the first communicator shape keyed by the first
notch in the toggle slot, but," and he almost frowned
slightly, "that would seem redundant, and out of
keeping with the Slaver's oftdemonstrated efficiency.
Not to mention the economical,
many-functions-in-one nature of the device itself.
If we[*thorn]"
  A new[*thorngg'startlingly
new[*thorngg'voice spoke in the observation
chamber. It spoke in Kzinti, or at least something
very close to Kzinti. It had the distortions common
to an out-of-town rural visiting a large,
cosmopolitan metropolis and trying to converse in
the local dialect. That meant it was comprehensible,
but spiced with a notable yet not quite definable difference.
  It was immediately clear that the voice did not
emanate from the mouth of any of the assembled
warriors; this was confirmed by the manner in which they
abruptly ceased all conversation among themselves. The
voice sounded again. It had a faint crackle in it,
like carbonation in liquid. All at once it became
evident to everyone that the voice came from the little grid
on top of the Slaver device's newest
configuration.
  "Whatever it is, it sure has the Kzinti
frightened," Sulu observed with satisfaction.
  "That's not surprising." Spock's placid
expression showed that it wasn't. "The Kzinti, if
I recall correctly, have many legends of
weapons haunted by their original owners."
  Uhura stared, fascinated, at the device.
"Could it be a voice-response control, requiring
verbal direction?"
  The Kzinti had clustered closely around
Chuft-Captain and the device, and the muffled sounds of
conversation were all the frustrated officers could make
out.
  "I think not," said Spock. "Somehow it actually
appears to be conversing with them." He paused,
listening. "Yes. It gives replies to direct
questions, and reasons abstractly where appropriate.
A reasoning computer so small, capable of
  independent analysis and reply? Even with the
subminiaturization that modern Federation technology
has achieved, that is hard to be
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 137
  lieve.a computer, yes, of any tiny size you
want. But one capable of reasoning and
  decision-making? An incredible accomplishment."
  "Are you sure, Mr. Spock?" Sulu asked.
  Spock listened for a while longer, then nodded
affirmatively. "It is much more than a computer.
Its logic circuitry must be infinitely more
sophisticated than anything we have yet developed,
save for huge reasoning computers such as the
main one on board the Enterprise. This one appears
capable of similar activity, and it is
unbelievably smaller."
  The crowd of Kzinti, their initial excitement
beginning to fade, spread out from one another. So when the
voice spoke again, it became loud enough and clear enough
for the translators hanging from each of the prisoners"
waists to interpret.
  "How long," Chuft-Captain was asking the tiny
rose sphere, "since you were last turned off?"
  "I do not know," the stilted voice of the Slaver
device promptly replied. "When I am off I
have no sense of passing time."
  "Very well." The Kzinti commander opted for another
tack. "What is the last thing you remember?"
  "We were on a mission." Spock couldn't tell
from the awkward inflection in the machine's voice
whether it was referring to several Slavers, or the
device and a single owner, when it said "We." "I
may not tell you of the mission unless you know certain
coded terminology."
  Flyer spoke up. "If you could describe to us
the positions of the stars above the last ship or world you were
on, we would be able to guess how much time has passed
since then."
  "Without certain code words," the computer voice
informed them evenly, "I may not describe the
location."
  Patience was not one of the Kzinti's finer
qualities. Chuft-Captain couldn't keep the
irritation out of his voice when he next addressed the
device. "One of the settings on you was a
maffer-conversion beam of tremendous power. We know that,
having observed it in operation." He glanced back,
smiling victoriously at
  138 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  the frozen prisoners. "We all saw what it can
do."
  He turned back to the device. "Tell us how
to find that setting on you."
  There was a pause, then, "Move the toggle
until you reach the original null position."
  This affirmative response, without a single
reference to code words, produced an excited,
anticipatory chattering among the assembled
Kzinti, so much so that their yowling drowned out everything
else the computer was saying.
  "That's the end, then," said the despondent Sulu.
"They've succeeded in communicating with the device."
  "There must be something we can do." Uhura
fought against the invisible bonds restraining her, found the
police-web field strong as ever. Then she
noticed Spock. The first officer was never
demonstrative, no matter how serious the
  situation; but considering the gravity of their present
predicament, he appeared even more phlegmatic
than usual.
  "Mr. Spock, you know what's happened," she
called to him. "Don't you have any suggestions?"
  Spock apparently did not. He was staring
blankly at the excited cluster of milling
Kzinti. "Most peculiar," he murmured, and that
seemed to constitute his final words on the matter.
  Uhura stared back at the Kzinti, but saw
nothing to inspire such a comment from her superior.
  Chuft-Captain raised the Slaver weapon,
brandished it aloft triumphantly. If Uhura
had no inkling of why Spock was so fascinated,
Sulu did, the moment he set eyes on the weapon
again.
  It had changed, obviously in response
to Chuft-Captain's request. But it had not changed
into the matterconversion configuration. At least, not
into the weapons mode Spock and Sulu had used
piror to their recent recapture. Not one
cone but a pair projected from the hand grip now.
Neither apex faced outward. Instead, the two points
faced each other. They came close to touching, forming
a distorted dumbbell shape.
  Still chattering enthusiastically among themselves, the
knot of Kzinti trooped from the chamber, moving
toward the ship's airlock.
  STAR TREK L00 TEN I39
  "That was not," Spock said decisively, "the
total conversion beam. We must assume the weapon
gave them directions for employing still another new
setting,"
  "But if it wasn't the conversion beam . . . ?"
Sulu hesitated, glanced anxiously around at the
exit taken by the departing Kzinti.
  Uhura, meanwhile, was shifting her attention from
one officer to the other, their statements only serving
to confuse her further instead of providing enlightenment.
  Followed by Plyer and the rest of the Kzinti,
ChuftCaptain marched outside. The Kzinti
  commander still walked in pain, leaning to his left and
occasionally clutching at his cracked ribs. The party
of armor-suited aliens moved a respectable distance
from the Traitor's Claw. Having already observed the
power of the Slaver weapon,
  Chuft-Captain wanted to be well clear of his
ship before activating it again.
  Once they had ascended a jumble of shattered ice
blocks, he inspected the re-formed weapon. The
double-cone arrangement looked little more like a weapon
than many of the device's previous manifestations.
  "Like the other configurations," he informed his
subordinates, who stood below and slightly behind him,
"this new one appears to be devoid of a gun
sight."
  "It may be a broad-beam weapon," Plyer
  suggested, "For use on distant or rapidly
moving or multiple targets. We saw its power.
There may be only a need to aim it very generally in a
target's direction. It is definitely a
weapon. I suggest you fire at a very distant
subject."
  Chuft-Captain concurred. "Very well." He
assumed as formal a marksman's stance as he could
manage with his damaged ribs.
  "We can't let them have that weapon." Uhura fought
the police web frantically. Though she exerted
all the energy in her body, shoving in every direction
including straight up, she was unable to move a
centimeter and remained frozen in place.
  Spock's reassuring comment was delivered with an
  140 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  eerie calm. "They're not about to get it,
Lieutenant. I think you are worrying needlessly."
  She stared at him uncomprehendingly. Sulu
did likewise, but the helmsman had a glimmering
of what the first officer meant.
  "Why aren't they?" she asked.
  "Assume you are a Slaver war computer,
  Lieutenant Uhura. A small one, to be
sure, but a war computer nonetheless. You have been
  deactivated, you do not know for how long, but when you
were deactivated there was a war in progress.
Assume furthermore that it is likely, as Mr.
Sulu has suggested, that you are a secret weapon
in the truest sense of the term, on a secret mission
of some sort." He paused a moment, continued when
Uhura had had time to digest this.
  "Now you are abruptly awakened by aliens you have
never seen before and retain no memory of. They do not
know any of the military passwords. They are
certainly not recognizable as belonging to the hierarchy of
possible Slaver allies. They ask you so many questions
it's obvious they know little about you and are trying to find
out a great deal more, particularly anything
involving weapons settings. Your true owner is
nowhere about." He turned to eye her expectantly.
  "What would you think?"
  Uhura didn't have to consider long before replying.
"I'd think that I'd been captured by the enemy.
Or at least by a non-ally."
  "And when they asked you," Sulu prompted
eagerly, "how to find your most powerfully
destructive setting, what would you give them?"
  Uhura and the helmsman exchanged
  meaningful glances while Spock merely stood
staring thoughtfully out the main port, wishing the Kzinti
were in view and yet very glad they weren't.
  Chuft-Captain aimed the double-cone
  arrangement as best he could. Focusing on a
distant hilltop, he pulled the trigger on the
Slaver weapon.
  Chuft-Captain vanished. So did Flyer and the
rest of the Kzinti standing with him. So did several
tons of ice and stone beneath them, and so did part of the
hull of the Traitor's Claw.
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 141
  In fact, everything within a radius of twenty
meters of the former Chuft-Captain simply
disappeared[*thorngg'including, naturally,
the Slaver weapon. As Spock had surmised, the
war
  computer built into the device had reasoned that the
Kzinti were not entitled to operate it. Instead of the
weapons setting discovered by Spock and Sulu, it
had provided Chuft-Captain with its self-
destruct setting.
  Portions of three rooms on board the Kzinti
vessel had been opened to space. The control
room, a storage chamber, and the crew common room
now looked out onto a near vacuum. Walls,
equipment, and the ground they had rested on had
completely vanished. The conversion had extended to within
half a meter of Spock's left leg.
  There were no aftereffects. The self-destruct
setting operated much in the manner of normal
atmospheric lightning: a million-volt bolt
could strike a tree and a man a few meters away
might not be harmed. Similarly, though the
imprisoned officers had been standing frozen on the very
edge of the disruption field, they had not been touched.
Within the disruption field, however, everything for a
radius of twenty meters from Chuft-Captain had
been converted. A violent whoosh of air escaping from
the Traitor's Claw was the only sound
produced by the disappearance.
  Spock barely had time enough to say clearly,
"Activate life-support belts!" Having
cut into the control room, the self-destruct field
had sliced through the police web and its power
supply. The three prisoners found they were able
to move. Hands touched controls at their waists.
Three lime-yellow auras sprang instantly
into existence in the dim light of the powerless observation
room.
  Uhura was studying the smooth-sided,
  round-bottomed crater in front of them with
interest. "Total-disruptor field." She
wasn't worried about an attack from any remaining
Kzinti. If any remained aboard, they would be
too busy trying to lock themselves into airtight
compartments and find alternate sources of atmo-
sphere to bother offering hinderance to escaping
prisoners.
  142 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  "Yes," commented Spock. "Another
  conventional weapon. It would seem that the
total-conversion beam Lieutenant Sulu and I
discovered was the only thing the Slavers had that we do not
also possess, in one form or another."
  Sulu walked to the edge of the sliced-open room.
It had been cut, he noted, as neatly as with any
industrial phaser.the sides and bottom of the
crater were smooth as glass, marred only by a few
unbalanced boulders and chunks of ice that had fallen
into the pit and gathered at the bottom.
  "No sign of the weapon, of course." He stood
straight, sighed in disappointment. "It would have looked
nice in some museum."
  "It would never have remained in a museum long,
Lieutenant," Spock observed quietly. "There
was too much power in that single unique setting. If
not the Kzinti, then the Klingons or some other
warlike species would have tried to possess it,
to copy it, and to duplicate its destructive
potential." His gaze lifted and he stared across the
open pit. On the far side of the pit and intervening
icefield the shuttlecraft Copernicus waited.
Only the gaping glassy depression in the ground
indicated that anything out of the ordinary had occurred on
the barren planet of Beta Lyrae. The depression
. . . and a small police vessel sliced as
neatly as an apple by the knife of some titan.
  "Strange," the first officer of the Enterprise
mused aloud, "how the past sometimes breaks
through into the present. A war a billion years old
could have sparked a new conflict between the Federation and the
Kzinti." He turned to face his companions.
  "I think it's time for us to leave. The weapon is
now history, along with the Slaver Empire. We have
a conference to attend. But while we don't have the
weapon, Lieutenant Sulu, at least we have
something that might grace your imagined museum."
  He gestured nearby. The stasis box that had
contained the Slaver weapon rested near one half of a
tilted table in the room. The other half of the table
and the Kzinti's own empty stasis box had lain within
the self-destruct disrupter field and had vanished.
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 143
  "The box isn't much," Spock observed, "but
even though empty it will excite those who see it.
They can fill it with their imaginations."
  Uhura nodded, leaned over the table's remains and
tucked the box which had caused them so much time and trouble
loosely under one arm. Devoid of its contents, it
was only an ordinary metal container. An ordinary
metal container over a billion years old.
  Moving carefully downward, they made their way out
of the hulk of the Traitor's Claw. They skirted
the slick rim of the pit, a
technological rabbit hole down which had vanished
the
  belligerent dreams of Kzin. Once more on
solid ground, they made their way steadily toward the
Copernicus and a distant rendezvous with their ship,
their friends, and a new race to whom the Slaver
Empire was more tall tale than truth . . .
  Xl
  The commander of Starbase 25 greeted them
personally when the Enterprise had finished docking
procedure. "Jarrod Shulda, Captain
Kirk," the deceptively ordinary-looking man
introduced himself. The two shook hands, turned and
stared down the extended docking tube leading into the
body of the station.
  "We know what your mission is, Captain,"
Shulda said volubly, "and we've been preparing for
your arrival." He checked a wrist chronometer and
smiled. "Glad you made it on time."
  "Was there any reason to assume we wouldn't?"
Kirk wondered aloud as they turned down a
corridor.
  Scott and M'ress accompanied him. The
Caitian communications officer appeared unaffected
by her recent unfortunate experience.
Soon after the pheraligen had taken effect, she and
M'viore and R'leez had resumed their normal
duties and shifts. Their mental readjustment was
helped by Dr. McCoy's instructions to all
personnel to extend sympathy and understanding
  144 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  to their three temporarily deranged shipmates,
while mentioning any actual incidents or
  encounters as little as possible. The order was complied
with, even by the security personnel whom the three
berserk Caitians had put in Sick Bay.
  "No offence,. I wasn't impugning your
vessel's efficiency. I'm glad you arrived on
time because it will take some of the pressure off us, here
at the base." Shulda tried to add some humor to a
vitally important, serious situation. "Starfleet
Command's mighty nervous about this whole Briamos
  business. They've been talking our ears off here,
asking for confirmation of your arrival. I'm happy
I can finally send that. Frankly, Captain, you could
have arrived here the day after you received your orders and I
suspect we still would have had half a dozen worried
inquiries from anxious bureaucrats concerned over
your slow pace."
  "Well, we're here now," Kirk said
easily. They were entering a small conference room and the
captain added softly, "Most of us, anyhow."
  Now who was worrying needlessly? He was no
better than those back at Command, continually thinking
about the unknown progress of the three officers on
board the shuttlecraft Copernicus.
Resolutely, he shut all thoughts of Spock,
Sulu, and Uhura from his mind.
  It was an effort.
  A florid, plump little woman with oriental
features and the air of a society matron was standing
next to a small podium going over a handful of
notes when they entered. She turned, saw them, and
scurried crablike across the floor to greet them.
All her movements were quick, her gestures
expansive as a courting blue jay, voice
brisk and prying.
  "Captain Kirk." She extended a smooth
palm, thimble-thick fingers extended. "I'm Chu
Leiski, sociologist by trade, diplomatic
adviser by necessity."
  "So you're the resident expert on our
  friends-to-be, the Briamosites?" Scott was
eyeing the woman uncertainly.
  "Lieutenant Commander Montgomery
Scott," supplied Kirk, "my acting
second-in-command, and Lieuteant M'ress,
acting communications chief."
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 145
  "My, my, Captain, but to a stranger you'd
seem to be running a thespianic enterprise. But as
they say, all the universe is a stage. Please
take some seats, any you like, and we'll get started.
I'm please to meet you all. We've a great deal
to brief you on."
  A little breathless with trying to keep up, Kirk
slid slowly into one of the chairs in the conference room.
Sociologist Leiski moved to stand behind the
podium. She put down her notes and activated
the electronic readout set into the podium top.
  "None of the information I'm going to impart to you is
critical by and of itself, but I've included everything we
know on the Briamosites. No telling, no
telling when during the conference some obscure chunk of
information will become crucial. The Briamosites
are a very thorough people, and they admire that thoroughness in
others. So that's how these briefings will
run[*thorn] thorough in execution and thorough in
content. You have to explore a whole pool in order
to find the school of minnows, sometimes."
  Shutting out the homilies, Kirk asked, "Just
how big is that pool? How much have we been able
to learn about the Briamosites, Chu Leiski?"
  "Not a great deal, Captain. Certainly not as
much as we'd like to before you have to go off to this conference. That's
why," and she smiled at Scott, "despite your
chief engineer's compliment, I can't pass myself off
as the resident expert on the Briamosites. There
are no experts on Briamos and its people."
  She leaned both elbows on the podium. "In
fact, we're hoping that you and those of your crew who
attend or participate in the conference will learn all
they can, so they can come back here and lecture
me[*thorngg'and all the other so-called experts."
  Quite suddenly, she dropped her chatty, informal
manner and exchanged it for that of the dignified
instructor.
  Moving to a large screen, she touched a control.
The screen lit up, but no pictures or words
appeared on it yet. "My connection with the
Briamosites comes from the fact that I was an
assistant to Ambassador Laiguer. I was half
observer, half adviser to him on personal
Briamosite interactions. That was my
specialty."
  146 STAR TREK L tilde TEN
  "Since you served as the ambassador's
assistant and have spent more time among them than any of
us, why aren't you coming with us to the conference?" Scott
wanted to know.
  She smiled again, briefly. "I'm not an
official diplomat, nor a member of
Starfleet. Just a civilian technician. I have
no diplomatic credentials to present
to BA-AMOS. As I said, the Briamosites are
a very thorough folk. They're as thorough about
protocol as anything else. My presence in the
official negotiating party would be considered
insulting."
  "You don't have to be part of the actual negotiating
group." Scott could be persistent. "Why dinnaye
just come along to give us
  on-the-spot information?"
  "I have to stay here, much as I'd like to go,"
Leiski told him. "I've been assigned
to relay all information on the progress of the conference
from here, as it arrives from Briamos and the Enterprise
back here to Starbase Twenty-Five. I'm
to provide my own comments and analysis to accompany
your reports, and in turn I'm to convey
back to you any suggestions or orders they might come
up with." She ruffled her notes.
  "I told them I could comment, albeit a little
slower, from Briamos via deep-space beam, but it
apparently was considered vital in certain circles
to have a knowledgeable intermediary between Starfleet Command
and Briamos while the
  conference was taking place. ThaPs me. Besides,"
she added convincingly, "in a few days you'll all
know as much about the Briamosites as I do."
  The lectures proceeded smoothly. Despite
her pose of self-deprecation when it came to her
professional accomplishments, Chu Leiski
proved an adept and efficient teacher. Occasionally
Kirk brought other personnel along, from Sciences,
or Communications, or other departments, as
  Leiski's subject matter shifted to bear
particularly on one section's specialty. But as
the days passed with no communication from the
Copernicus, Kirk found his attention wandering when it
should have been fixed on this or that aspect of
Briamosite culture.
  Finally, after the last lecture, questions were put to
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 147
  Chu Leiski by Kirk and other
officers. She replied with answers and questions of her
own.
  As the room was emptying, Leiski drew Kirk
aside. "I know you'll do the Federation proud,
Captain. I wish I were going with you."
  "Obviously Starfleet thinks you're more
important to them here," Kirk told her. "I know
you'd like to be part of the conference, and you will be, an
integral part. You just won't be there in body."
  "Oh, it's not that, Captain." Leiski was
cleaning the nails of her left hand with a nail on the
right and she didn't look up at him. "I hope the
conference is a success, naturally, but I don't
especially care if I'm a part of it. I just like
Briamos and its people, that's all, and I want
to make sure I have the chance to go back." She
looked up now, smiled fitfully. "Do well,
Captain Kirk, so I can go back?" She turned
and left.
  Alone in the room, Kirk felt confident for the
first time. No matter how temperamental and
difficult professional diplomats such as
  Ambassador Laiguer found the
Briamosites, they had to be a people worth knowing if
they could inspire such affection and interest in
a woman like Chu Leiski . . .
  Kirk was resting in the command chair,
  brooding silently. He and McCoy had been
  discussing items of no particular
importance[*thorngg'a rare luxury for them both
[*thorngg'when Kirk suddenly said, "You
realize, Bones, that if they're not here by fourteen
hundred tomorrow we'll have to leave without them. We can't
delay departure."
  "I know, Jim. I'm sure Spock, Sulu,
and Uhura know it too, wherever they are."
  Kirk turned, stared at the blank viewscreen.
His hand tightened slightly on the arm of the command
chair, but only McCoy noticed.
  They should have reported in by now!
  M'ress was already at her post when Kirk entered
the bridge the following morning. He glanced over
at her, framed a wordless question. She shook her head
slowly. The message he had hoped for had not
arrived.
  Almost, he asked for something she could not give.
  148 STAP TREK LOG TEN
  Then his lips tightened and he took his seat half
angrily. "Mr. Arex, Mr. Vedama,
prepare for Briamos departure."
  "But, Captain," Vedama began, "can't
we[*thorn]?"
  "The one thing we can't do, Lieutenant, is be
late for that conference. We depart at fourteen
hundred. I won't risk traveling at maximum
velocity and the chance of an engine malfunction
delaying our scheduled arrival, in order to wait
any longer. You know the Briamosites" fanatic
attitude toward punctuality. You attended many
of the lectures yourself."
  "Yes, sir. I did." Discouraged, Vedama
turned away.
  Arex commenced programming their course, frowned his
odd Edoan frown, and called back over a
shoulder, "Captain Kirk?"
  "Yes, what is it?"
  "Captain, our detectors show an
unidentified shuttlecraft coming in."
  "Check with starbase communications, M'ress,"
Kirk ordered quickly, hardly daring to believe.
  "Yes, sirr." A pause, then she said
excitedly, "They arre not expecting any
shuttles, sirr. And none of theirr own arre out."
  "We're too far from any well-populated worlds
for easy shuttle transportation," Kirk
mused.
  "Call coming in, sirr," the Caitian
  communications officer announced. She added without
waiting for an order, "Acknowledging incoming
signal."
  This one time, Kirk did not reprimand her.
  "Shuttlecraft Copernicus to Enterprise."
Spock's lean, relaxed tones gave no hint of
anything amiss on board the overdue shuttle.
"Request docking."
  "M'ress, put me through." He waited while
she nudged the necessary controls and then he spoke into the
chair pickup. "Spock, this is Kirk here."
  "Hello, Captain."
  Kirk waited, until it was evident his first
officer didn't intend to expand on his greeting. was
"Hello, Captain"? Is that all you have to say,
Mr. Spock? You're three days overdue." He
tried to sound accusing, but came out appearing worried.
"What happened to you in Gruyakin?"
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 149
  "We had to cope with the fact that the stasis box had
been stolen prior to our arrival, Captain."
  "Stolen?" Kirk twitched violently.
  "Yes, Captain," came Spock's
confirmation, calm as ever. "We recovered it only
after the stasis box had placed the would-be thief in a
stasis field of his own."
  "Stasis field of his own?"
  "That's correct, Captain. However, that was a
minor problem, compared to the trouble the Kzinti caused
us."
  "Kzinti? Kzinti!"
  "It is not like you to respond to every statement with a questioning
echo, Captain." The first officer sounded mildly
reproving without being outright insubordinate.
  "It's not like anyone, Mr. Spock, to go after a
stasis box, and then have it stolen, and then run
into[*thorn]" He stopped, took a deep
breath. "Mr. Spock, I will expect to see you in
my cabin as soon as you've docked and gotten yourselves
squared away[*thorngg'and bring that stasis box."
A sudden thought moved him to ask quickly,
  "Lieutenants Sulu and Uhura are all
right?"
  "Yes, sir," "Yes, Captain," came the
almost simultaneous replies from both officers.
  "Good. You can both report to me along with Mr.
Spock. Maybe the three of you together can come up with
one sensible explanation for your delay."
  "I'm sure you'll find both the stasis box and
our explanation equally intriguing, Captain,"
Spock assured him.
  As usual, Spock understated Kirk's
reaction. All four sat in his cabin. Spock was
concluding their story. He had related it all, without
pausing. Kirk simply sat at his desk, shaking
his head in response to one part of the tale, nodding at
another, staring in disbelief at still a third. The first
officer did most of the talking, while Sulu and
Uhura occasionally broke in to provide emotional
coloration of their own. The stasis box rested on a
table between them.
  "And that is how the box has come to be here empty,
Captain," Spock finished.
  Kirk stared at the metal cube for a long moment.
  150 STAR TREK LOG
  "My congratulations to all of you. Merely being here
is proof of how well you carried out your
assignment."
  "I beg to differ with you, Captain," said
Spock. "We lost the contents of the box, the
Slaver weapon."
  "That was unavoidable, Mr. Spock. While we
don't have it, more importantly neither do the
Kzinti. Furthermore, the Federation still has the
three of you." He studied the box. Its silvery
surface shone metallically in the cabin light.
"There ought to be something we can[*thorn]" He
broke off, and a slightly mischievous, slightly
satanic grin appeared on his face.
  "We'll take it to the conference," he announced.
"Mr. Spock, you and Chief Engineer Scott can
rig a small device to place inside for generating
an imitation Slaver field. The box itself," he
went on, leaning forward, "is every bit as
impressive as any discovered. With an aura
surrounding it, no one would know it's been opened. No
need to tell the Briamosites, or the Klingons,
and I don't think any of them will rush to open it
manually, in front of all the others."
  "That would be deceitful, Captain," Spock
observed disapprovingly.
  "Diplomatic, Mr. Spock, simply
diplomatic. Remember, the Briamosites will
choose between the Klingons and the Federation. I am not
going to stick to Marquis of Queensberry rules when
something as vital as an interstellar alliance with a
race as important as the Briamosites is at
stake. And especially not when the matter also
involves Klingons."
  "Pardon, Captain . . . Marquis of
Queensberry rules?" Spock asked.
  "They have to do with boxing, Mr. Spock," Sulu
informed him.
  "Oh yes, boxing. One of the ancient barbarous
human martial arts." Sulu bridled and Spock
hastened to add, "No offence, Mr. Sulu. I was
referring only to the primitive, unrefined
techniques of human warfare, not to fencing or the more
sophisticated forms of self-defence."
  Sulu looked uncertain, but relaxed.
  was "Barbarous" is the right word when negotiating
with Klingons, Spock." Kirk had turned grim.
"You know the Klingon watch phrase when it comes to di
  STAR TRBR LOG TBN 151
  pIomacy: "That which is expedient rather than that which
is truthful." So well bend the truth a little bit
ourselves. We may not actually have to lie. If no one
asks us whether the stasis box has been opened, I
see no reason to volunteer the
  information that it has."
  "You are rationalising, Captain." Spock
refused to be argued out of his stance. "But considering the
importance of the conference, I find,
reluctantly, that I must concur with your
methodology. We must show ourselves as
  adaptable as the Klingons."
  The Enterprise was well on its way
to Briamos from Starbase 25 and approaching the
limits of Federation territory, when an
unexpected
  buffeting struck the ship. One moment they were
cruising along easily[*thorngg'the next, the
ship was shuddering as if afflicted with metallic
pneumonia. As suddenly as the disturbance began, it
stopped.
  "Now what could have caused that?" Kirk won-
dered, then added more loudly, "Lieutenant Uhura,
damage report."
  "All stations all decks report no damage
and secure, Captain," she reported in a few
minutes. "Several sections want to know what
happened."
  "So do I. Mr. Spock?"
  The first officer was bent over his readouts, then
looked up. "I am not certain, Captain. It could
have been caused by any of several
  phenomena, external or internal." He touched
a control. "Engineering, Mr. Spock
here."
  "Aye, Mr. Spock," replied Chief
Engineer Scott. "What the devil was that?"
  "You do not know, Commander?" Spock asked.
  "No sir. I was hopin' you'd be able to tell
me."
  "I am attempting to find out by eliminating
possibilities, Commander. Bridge out." Spock
made several more fast checks, looked back at
Kirk.
  "It would appear to be an external problem,
Captain." Spock appeared to hesitate. "As
far as outside causes[*thorn]"
  Further buffeting, not a repeat of the last but
stronger this time, rocked the Enterprise again. It had
enough force to jolt small objects loose from their
  152 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  places at desk and console. It also lasted
slightly longer than the previous shaking, and stopped
just as mysteriously.
  Uhura relayed the gratifying no-damage
reports from each deck and section while Spock
worked feverishly now at the science computer.
  "I think I have it' Captain." He glanced
up finally from his instrumentation. "If the
information compiled by our long-range sensors is
accurate, we would do well to immediately[*thorn]"
  He never finished the suggestion. A giant hand
slapped the Enterprise sideways, flung Kirk
from the command chair. He barely caught himself in
midair to keep from being thrown against the
navigation-helm console.
  All across the bridge, other crew members were
slung from their positions. Only Spock, who was
half prepared for the shock because of what the sensors had
told him, clung tightly to his seat and absorbed
the buffeting. But this time the shaking didn't stop. It
fluctuated from dangerous to irritating, but never
ceased entirely.
  Kirk crawled carefully back into the command
chair. "Mr. Sulu, all ahead warp factor
eight! Emergency power!"
  "I'm trying, Captain," Sulu shouted after a
frustrating struggle with the controls. "She's not
responding properly. We're caught in something."
  "Energy storm," Spock announced loudly,
over the noise of the shaking. "Captain, sensors
report a variable pulsar in the immediate spatial
vicinity. That's what's causing the uneven buffeting.
It's rotating at a high rate of speed,
throwing out intermittent, unpredictable bursts of
tremendous energy. I should have recognized the cause
sooner but[*thorn]" He broke off,
concentrated on keeping his seat as a violent span"
sounded through the fabric of the ship's hull.
  Kirk thought of a hammer pounding on a metal
pail[*thorngg'and they were inside the pail.
  "Captain!"
  Kirk instantly recognised the urgent voice
shouting over the chair intercom.
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 153
  "Hang on back there, Scotty."
  "What's going on, sir? The strain on the
engines tryin' to hold us to a course through this is
makin' my stress gauges look drunk. And the
hull's showin' strain, too."
  "Variable pulsar, Scotty."
  "What? But how did we get so close?
Shouldn't . . . ?"
  "I know, Scotty. Let's wonder about that
later. Bridge out." He rolled to his right,
remembered the sensation so well described in books
of sea captains of old. "Mr. Sulu, change
course. We can't fight through this. Compute
to[*thorn]" He held on, gritting
his teeth, forearm straining as another violent jolt
battered the ship. "Compute position of pulsar,
utilizing sensor readings, Mr. Sulu. Engage
course directly opposite to plotted wavicle
flow!"
  "Aye, Captain!" A brief pause was long
enough for the Enterprise's superfast navigation computer,
operated by Lieutenant Arex's skilled three
hands. Then Sulu fed it to the helm. Abruptly the
Enterprise came about, although there was no sensation of
turning on the bridge: The curve the ship was making
was far too gradual for it to affect the artificial
gravity field.
  The buffeting gentled, the galactic storm falling
to a electromagnetic zephyour, but didn't cease
completely.
  "How are our shields holding, Mr. Spock?"
  The first officer checked his instruments. "Still
holding, Captain. I would be surprised if we have
not suffered some external damage, though. We were
caught utterly unprepared, and our shields are not
designed to absorb that kind of intense radiation
bombardment anywhere but at different spots at a
time, as in a phaser attack. The storm enveloped
us completely."
  He checked his readouts again. "We absorbed
saturation-level bombardment for nearly two
minutes." Someone on the bridge whistled in awe.
"We are fortunate to still have power."
  "I know we've been lucky, Mr. Spock.
But if we'd struck that storm at a sharper angle,
plunged deeper into it before we realized what was
happening, we'd have less than power." Everyone
knew what Kirk was implying. A variable pulsar,
at close range, could put
  154 STAR TREK TEN
  out more than enough energy to fry the
  best-shielded vessel in space. The
Enterprise had barely escaped being turned into a
vast, metal coffin.
  It was a nervous moment as another tsunami of
energetic particles rocked the ship. This was the last
one of any kind, powerful or gentle. Seconds
later the warp drive had outpaced the wave front
assaulting them.
  "All right, Mr. Sulu." Kirk discovered
half the muscles in his body were still contracted, forced
them to relax. "Compute a new course and bring us
back toward Briamos . . . and keep a slight
curve out on the new heading." That ought
to keep them clear of the receding pulsar's most powerful
outbursts.
  "Damage reports coming in, sir." Uhura
  listened a moment, then added more quietly,
"They're not negative this time."
  "I don't doubt it." Kirk readied himself.
"Anything of real significance?"
  "Several sections on Decks Seven and Eight
report external structural damage in their
area, sir. Estimate is that a portion of hull
plating will have to be replaced."
  "Contact Engineering and inform Chief
Scott[*thorn] though he may know about it already.
Tell him to put a couple of crews to work on the
damage. They'll have to rig something temporary as
best they can. We can't afford the time to go back
to Starbase Twenty-Five for formal repairs."
  "Our appearance when we arrive in orbit around
Briamos will not be the best, Captain," Spock
pointed out.
  "I know, Spock, but I'd rather show up looking a
little bruised than not show up on time. According to what I
heard during our briefings, if we're late we
might as well not show up at all."
  "I have already examined a part of the briefing
material in detail, Captain, and I concur."
The science officer turned his attention to the fore
viewscreen, which showed only steadily burning
normal stars forward. "A near thing. We should take
time to report the hazard."
  "That's right." Kirk turned, glanced over his
shoulder. "Lieutenant Uhura, give me
Starbase Twenty-Five contact."
  STAR TREK LOG TEN I SS
  Uhura worked busily at her console. Kirk
waited . . . and waited. "Lieutenant, what's
the delay?"
  "I'm sorry, sir. Apparently some of our
external communications facilities were damaged by the
energy storm. I've finally gotten through to the base,
but I can only receive audio at the moment."
  "That'll do, Lieutenant. Inform Engineering and have
Scotty get on that damage also."
  "Starbase Twenty-Five," came a
pleasant, mildly concerned voice over the bridge
speakers. "Lieutenant Jorgenson speaking. Go
ahead, Enterprise."
  "Mr. Spock, you have the coordinates?" The first
officer nodded. "Tell them, then."
  Spock switched on his own pickup.
"Lieutenant Jorgenson, are you recording this
transmission?"
  "Yes, sir."
  "Very well. We have just ridden out a violent energy
storm, radiation put out in ship-crippling bursts
by a variable pulsar of," and he read off several
figures, giving galactic position and the pulsar's
estimated frequency of critical-intensity
outbursts.
  There was an unexpected silence at the other end.
Kirk and Spock exchanged puzzled glances. "Do
you copy, Starbase Twenty-Five?" Uhura
finally asked.
  "We copy," came the lieutenant's voice,
"but . . . would you mind giving those figures again
please, sir? Especially making certain of the
coordinates?"
  "The coordinates were correct the first time,"
replied Spock evenly, "however," and he repeated
the entire sequence of identifying numbers.
  "But that's impossible," Jorgenson insisted.
"Those figures can't be right!"
  "I assure you that it is not impossible and that our
figures are correct." Spock sounded just the
faintest bit peeved. "Are you denying that
we just experienced the situation described?"
  "No, no . . . it's not that, sir. I've
counterplotted your figures against the base charts and
we have that pulsar clearly marked. There are four
beacons of deep-space broadcast capability
set well clear and equally spaced around that pulsar
to warn approaching ships of the danger well in
advance."
  156 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  Kirk's thoughts tumbled over one another. "This
is Captain Kirk speaking, Lieutenant. We
certainly weren't warned. We picked up no
beacon transmissions." He glanced sharply to his
left. "Lieutenant Uhura?"
  "No, sir!" She looked shocked. "You can't
miss an emergency deep-space beacon. Not even
if I wanted to. I didn't pick up as much as
a
  cautionary beep."
  Kirk hesitated, but Spock spoke into his
chair pickup. "Are you sure about those four
beacons, Lieutenant?"
  "Positive, sir," came the reply,
crackling with static due to the Enterprise's
damaged
  communications network. "It says here in the
manual that they're fourthdegree amplitude
broadcast, too, and were serviced only two years
ago. You should have picked up at least two signals
well in advance of any potentially damaging energy
surge."
  "It seems most unlikely, Captain, that two
recently serviced beacons of that type should fail
simultaneously." Spock sounded unusually
grim.
  "True, Mr. Spock." Kirk chewed his lower
lip, looked thoughtful. "Still, there can't be many ships
passing this way. They could have failed."
  "Possible, Captain," Spock conceded. "I
am not denying that, only saying that the odds are large
against it. Deep-space warning beacons are powered and
designed to remain operative
  without inspection for a hundred years. That two of
them should fail together in so short a time . . . I
find that a difficult concept to accept."
  "So do I, Spock. But at that moment that's one
of only two possible explanations I can think of.
And I don't like thinking of the other one."
  "That the beacons were intentionally tampered with?"
  "Yes. Although I admit that seems little
more reasonable than a simultaneous double
failure."
  He paused, then directed his voice to the chair
pickup once more. "Starbase Twenty-Five . .
. Are you still there, Lieutenant?"
  "Yes, sir."
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 157
  "Report that at least two of the four beacons and
possibly more apparently have become
  inoperative."
  "l tilde operativeeasir? But that's
impossible also."
  "There's no other explanation, Lieutenant. Not
unless all our external sensors and
  communications equipment has been rendered
completely useless." Uhura shook her head
violently. "And I'm assured that's not the case.
  "Put in a report and have Starfleet
  maintainance get a repair team out here to check
those beacons as soon as possible." He paused, and
added even though he knew the answer, "Could those
beacons have been destroyed by an energy surge from the
pulsar itself, Lieutenant?"'
  "No, sir. According to the manual here, those four
beacons are Class-AA'-SHIELDED.
Nothing short of a full nova would knock them out.
I just don't understand this, sir."
  "Neither do we, Lieutenant, although we have a
suspicion and it's not pleasant.
However"[*thorngg'he took a deep
breath[*thorn)'"...we are still on course for
Briamos and expect to arrive slightly delayed
but still within the time parameters set by the
Briamosites. You can report that back
to Starfleet Command for us."
  "Will do, sir. And, sir?"
  "Yes, Lieutenant?"
  "If there's negligence proven in this case,
someone's going to pay for it."
  "I have news for you, Lieutenant," Kirk
replied. "If fthertehis go negligence proven,
someone's going to pay
  X11
  Other than the unexplained incident involving the
unbeaconed pulsar, the flight to Briamos was
devoid of surprises. That pleased Kirk just
fine. One near disaster before the conference had even been
convened was quite enough.
  158 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  Briamos's main system, containing two
  populated planets including the
Briamosites" homeworld, was impressive. And
Briamos itself was as beautiful a world as any in the
Federation. Its twin world of Niamos, orbiting
farther out, was smaller but equally attractive.
  Clearly the Briamosites had not squandered the
natural opportunities nature had given them.
The deep-range scopes and sensors on the
Enterprise indicated highly developed
populations on both planets. With Niamos, an
inhabitable world, hanging only seventy-five
million kilometers off in space, the ancient
Briamosites had been gifted with a natural
reason for developing space travel.
  While they did not possess warp-drive
  capability as yet, and journeys between the three
close Briamosite solar systems
involved[*thorn)'"Federation
standards[*thorngg'unconscionably long times, the
vessels that Kirk saw when they approached
Briamos were superbly designed and very
  efficient-looking. So much so that Chief Scott
was of the opinion that the Briamosite ships could be
adapted to warp-drive technology, and therefore fast
deep-space flight, with few
modifications. No doubt that capability would be one
of the first items the bargaining Briamosites would
seek in deciding who to ally themselves with. But it would
hardly be critical. Both the Federation and Klingon
could offer Briamos high-speed FTL
technology.
  No, the Briamosite decision was likely
to hinge on less definable reasons.
  Five warships, each nearly as large as the
ErZterprise, drifted out of low orbit to greet
them.
  "We're being scanned and hailed, Captain,"
Uhura reported.
  "Have a Rood time but check your weapons first,"
murmured Kirk as he admired the lines of the
approaching ships. "Let's keep in mind that
they're likely to be cautious at the same time
they're displaying impatience. Put them through,
Uhura."
  The screen cleared instantly and they saw their first
Briamosite. Their first live one, Kirk
reminded himself. He had studied those features at
lecture session after session. The actual sight,
therefore, was expectedly an
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 159
  ticlimactic. He now knew Briamosite
features as well as those of M'ress, Arex, or
any other nonhuman Federation race.
  Since the screen proportioned everything, one
couldn't tell from the portrait that the alien stood
over two meters tall, this being the Briamosite
average. Partly, the alien resembled a human being
who had walked in front of one of those ancient
amusement park fun-house mirrors (the one that
made fat women happy by squeezing them to an
unnatural thinness while stretching them to Watusi
heights). The forehead was high, the head itself long and
narrowed. But it was not a hollow-checked skull
face. The Briamosites were thin, they were not living
cadavers.
  The one regarding them now did not smile. Neither
did he frown. Not much could be told from that, one way
or the other. Even sociologist Chu Leiski
hadn't been able to learn much about Briamosite
expressions during her limited sojourn on their
world, and the shy people had been reticent to discuss the
meanings of their occasional facial grimaces and
twitches.
  One thing they did know, Kirk remembered: as
long as a Briamosite did not on first
greeting show lower canines and groan softly, he
or she was at least offering a neutral greeting.
  The eyes were stretched like the rest of the gangling
body. Ellipsoidal orbs peered out at Kirk,
their pupils eerily small. As if to counterbalance
the high, narrow skull the ears were wide pleated
shapes like the wings of a bat, and roughly that size.
They stuck out boldly at right angles to the nearly
hairless pate. A three-centimeter-high grey
fuzz ran in a straight line from the forehead down below
the back collar, much in the fashion once favored
by certain primitive Amerinds of Earth.
  The figure spoke. Considering the small size
of the mouth opening, the words that emerged sounded quite normal
in inflection and pitch. Now that he was speaking, the
Briamosite gestured freely with one hand or the
other, hands which ended not in fingers but in four small,
flexible tentacles, each tipped with a pointed claw
painted a color different from that of its seven fel
  160 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  lows. The ears moved also, in a manner which Kirk
recalled from his notes as signifying friendliness.
While the two arms were jointed much like human arms,
the weaving boneless tentacles gave them a decidedly
graceful, supple look.
  As the speaker moved, the pins holding his toga
to one high shoulder sparkled. Stripes which Kirk
recognized as indicating rank ran across the upper
folds of the garment. The skin beneath those folds was a
light gray-green, hairless but definitely not
reptilian in appearance.
  "To you greetings, Captain Kirk of the
  Federation ship Enterprzse. Am
I[*thorngg'I am
  Colonel-Greeter Pliver here to welcome you
to our system home and to conference." His ears swayed in
agitation like those of a nervous rabbit. "Worried I
was that you might not be here in time. You have arrived barely
six vilvits the polite side of deadline."
  "We're sorry, but we were delayed," Kirk
explained quickly. Then he recalled the view that the
Briamosite's portrait had replaced. "That's
quite a welcome you've given us[*thorngg'five
warships. You, Colonel-Greeter Pliver,
make me feel like an honored guest. But all those
weapons aimed in our direction kind of counter the
effect."
  "Apologies are extended," said Pliver.
  At first Kirk thought the Briamosite might be
struggling with an unfamiliar duty; but that
impression had changed swiftly. Already Kirk was
coming to regard the alien as a slickly
  professional diplomat the Federation
Diplomatic Corps would have been proud to match
wits with.
  "We felt it necessary to provide an escort,"
Pliver continued smoothly, "for your own
  protection."
  "Protection from what?" a new voice wondered.
Kirk glanced back, saw McCoy emerge from the
turbolift and stride onto the bridge.
  "Hello, Bones. I was just going to ask that
myself." He returned his attention to the viewscreen.
"We can take care of ourselves," he said meaningfully.
"Who do we need so much protection from?"
  "Why, from mutual enemies yours, the
  representa
  STAR TREK TEN 161
  fives of Klingon. They have been here for," and
Kirk thought he detected just a hint of reproach in
Pliver's voice, "three days."
  "Klingons . . . As I told you," Kirk
went on, "we ran into some trouble on our way here.
If you take a look at the damaged exterior of
our ship you'll have some idea of why we were
delayed."
  "I have already noticed the damage, during your
initial approach from deep space, on our
scanners." He didn't sound particularly
  sympathetic, Kirk noted. "Most
unfortunate. Assuming, I am, as little as we know
about you of the Federation, that you are telling me a true
story, Captain Kirk. I would hate to think that
Federation of yours thought so little of us as to send a
second-class damaged ship to represent them because
it was not needed somewhere more important."
  Almost, almost Kirk said the first thing that came
into his mind. But he recognised it as a clever
ploy, and a test. Pliver had deliberately
baited him, testing his patience, his pride, his
ability to maneuver mentally in a stressful
situation.
  Calmly, he replied, "The Enterprise
represents the finest class of ships in current
Starfleet operation, Colonel-Greeter Pliver.
I assure you that our damage is as genuine as it was
unwished. You may have the opt portunity of
inspecting it yourself, if you desire."
  "Perhaps sometime during the conference," Pliver
responded pleasantly, having tried
Kirk and not found him wanting
  McCoy leaned close, was careful to keep his
voice below pickup range. "They're a handsome people,
Jim, if this one's any indication. And sharp
operators." He turned, strolled casually toward
the science station as Pliver, with an excuse, begged
a moment's pause. No doubt to report the
results thus far to his superiors.
  "five warships to protect us from the Klingons,
eh? Mighty solicitous of our health, wouldn't you
say, Spock?"
  "I detect a familiar note of sarcasm in
your tone, Doctor," the first officer replied. "The
Briamosites, in preparing to ally themselves and their
future with either the Federation or Klingon, are only
exhibiting a
  162 STAR TREK LOG
  cautionary xenophobia natural in such a
  situation. Clearly the presence of these warships
is designed to insure that we do nothing
  unpleasant, should the conference not proceed in our
favor. We would not, of course, but the
Briamosites cannot be sure of that in their own minds.
I am certain a similar escort surrounds the
Klingon ship.
  "While they do not possess warp-drive
  technology, from the appearance of their vessels and
from Commander Scott's engineering
  analysis I would estimate they have ample
firepower to blast any unruly visitor from their
skies, be it Federation cruiser, Klingon, or
both.
  "Also, the presence of the warships constitutes an
important show of force for Briamos. They
naturally wish to impress us with their power and
potential so that we will make our most generous offers
of alliance and they will be able to obtain the best for their
systems." Spock paused a moment, added, "I
believe the presence of the five ships is best
described by an ancient human saying once
employed by the primitive tribes called nations.
"Showing the totem," I think it was." There was a
touch of disgust in the Vulcan's voice.
  ""Showing the flag,"" McCoy corrected
him. "What's the matter, Spock? Didn't
individual tribes on Vulcan ever show the
flag?"
  "Perhaps far in our past we did, Doctor,"
Spock conceded. "However, we disposed of our
  ritualistic slogans and totems much
earlier in our racial history than humanity
did."
  Pliver returned to the viewscreen. "Your
orbital coordinates are as follows, Captain.
They have been transcribed for your own instrumentation
systemology. You see, we have done our
  homework, too."
  As always, there was no evident movement of the mouth
beyond the minimum necessary to form the requisite words. But
Kirk was beginning to relate certain significant
hand and ear motions to what he had learned during the
series of lectures at Starbase 25, and if he
was interpreting them correctly now, it meant that
  STAR TREK LOG I63
  Pliver had, in addition to his sleek
diplomatic style, a well-developed sense of
humor.
  "I'm sure you have," Kirk complimented him.
"We've heard a great deal about your energy and
abilities." That ought to earn the Federation a
diplomatic point or two, he thought. "Mr.
Sulu, stand by to receive coordinates."
  "Standing ready for input, sir. Standing by,
Colonel-Greeter."
  Pliver looked pleased and a little startled
at being so acknowledged. His expression didn't
alter, but he read the coordinates with a definite
flourish. "These will place your ship in close
proximity to the Klingon vessel, Captain."
  "Just a minute," Kirk said hastily. "If we
may have any preference as to orbital
location[*thorn]"
  "It is preferred," Pliver broke in
smoothly but firmly, "that the vessels carrying both
  ambassadorial staffs remain in the same area.
This will simplify," he added reassuringly with a
friendly wag of batlike ears, "communications and
transfer of personnel from both ships to the
place-of-conference. That is located in a small
resort community a modest distance from our capital
city. It Is on the seacoast, which is a region
I am told you should find pleasant. The climate
may be somewhat warm for you, but not unduly so. It was
determined at high levels that it would be best to hold
the conference in one of our most desirable, exclusive
recreat tilde onal areas as opposed to a stuffy,
formal official structure in some city crowded.
Landing coordinates for shuttle or transporter will
be provided shortly. Until then, Captain
Kirk, a pleasant forward looking-to."
  Pliver switched off. Kirk couldn't be sure
whether that last twist of ears indicated expectation
or downright friendship, but either would be a sign that this first
contact had concluded successfully.
  End transmission, Captain," Uhura said
  formally.
  A snicker sounded from close by the science station.
McCoy wore a wide, half-sardonic smile.
"I like the Briamosites already, Jim. Some of their
top politicians have seen a chance for a free
vacation, so they're going to hold it on the Riviera
instead of in the capital,
  164 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  where their constituents could keep an eye on
them[*thorn] assuming they're ultimately
responsible to a constituency, of course."
  "I beg your pardon, Doctor. The Riviera?
That is a generalized human term, an adjective
and not a noun."
  "It wasn't always, Spock. Long time ago, it
referred to one specific site on Earth.
Nowadays any coast area on any world that proves
especially hospitable to settlement is known as a
Riviera site. Putting this conference in the local
version of it," McCoy chuckled, "is a
sign of the Briamosites" humanness."
  "Yes," said Spock, his disappointment evident,
"I'm afraid you're right, Doctor."
  McCoy responded cheerfully. "Don't
worry, Spock. One day soon we'll run across
a race that wants to join the Federation and behaves
exactly like Vulcans."
  "A day I look forward to, Doctor, with great
anticipation," the first officer replied. "However,"
he added in a more analytical tone, "It appears
that the Briamosites possess many admirable
qualities. I am looking forward with interest to the
conference."
  "On that, we both agree," finished McCoy.
  Under Sulu's direction, following coordinates
given by the Briamosites, the Enterprise was moving
slowly toward the orbital station assigned to it. The
five Briamosite warships shadowed the Federation
cruiser every kilometer of the way.
  "What the Colonel-Greeter Pliver said about
placing our ship and that of the Klingons close together in
order to facilitate transportation and communication
is undoubtedly true, Captain," Spock
ventured conversationally. "At the same time, a
superficial reason masks the real one."
  "Oh, there was never any question in my mind about it,
Mr. Spock." Kirk thoughtfully stared at the
viewscreen, which showed two Briamosite warships
shining between the scanner and the green-blue world farther below.
"They want both us and the Klingons together, nice and
neat and accessible, so they can keep an eye on us
all with a minimum amount of worry."
  "Approaching designated position, Captain."
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 165
  "Thank you, Mr. Sulu. Let's see what
our counterparts and fellow arguers look like."
  Sulu switched Oil the forward scanners. A
small dot appeared, barely visible against the great
cloud-covered bulge of the planet Briamos.
  "Increasing forward magnification," Sulu declared.
  The dot leaped at them. Sparkling in the
viewscreen was a Klingon cruiser, analog to the
Federation's Constitution class. It was an
immaculate technological vision, hanging in
space like an abstract jewel. Every centimeter of
its surface shone brilliant and mirrorbright. The
winged shape looked as if it had rested in a
Starbase vacuum dock for months.
  McCoy let out an appreciative whistle.
  "She really shines, Jim. The
Klingons must have polished her hull from bridge
to engines."
  Spock wasn't impressed. "I apparently have
more confidence in the Briamosites than you do,
Doctor, judging by your reaction. They seem too
intelligent to me to be overawed by such
  superficialities as mere appearance."
  "I tend to agree with you, Spock," Kirk
continued grimly. "But you have to admit that with the damage
we suffered from that pulsar we don't present a very
impressive sight alongside that." He paused,
leaned forward in the command chair, and squinted hard at
the viewscreen.
  "Jim, something the matter?" wondered McCoy.
  "The ship." Kirk was lost in some thought of his own
and spoke almost inaudibly. "I recognize that
ship . . ." Then he sat back, added loudly,
"The rogue planet, without a sun. The world of the
illusion-masters who tested us[*thorn]"
  "We're being scanned, sir," Uhura
interrupted, "by the Klingons this time."
  "Yes. If they have a hailing signal out,
acknowledge it, Lieutenant."
  "They do, sir," she reported immediately. "Making
contact."
  A face formed on the screen; dignified,
impressive, with a very un-Klingon bent toward
humor. Most iraportant of all, it was
familiar. Dangerously familiar.
  166 STAR TREK TEN
  "Jim," McCoy whispered, "you're right. I
remember the illusion-masters and our contest there. And
. . . I remember him. Isn't
that[*thorn]?"
  "Xumara," Kirk said sharply. "The Klingon
I went to the old experimental Interspecies
Academy with. Yes, that's him."
  "The Klingons have clearly," added Spock, who
also recognized the face, "chosen their best
to represent them."
  About that time the transmission must have cleared on
board the Klingon ship, for the Klingon captain's
eyebrows lifted in recognition. "Well,
James Kirk. A surprise to see you again,
Jim. Twice in the same year. A pleasure."
  "One we could do without," grumbled McCoy.
  Kumara glanced to his right, eyeing something
offscreen. "I am just studying my other forward
scanners, Jim, as you approach. It seems that
these Briamosites trust you no more than
they trust us. I'm glad to see their suspicion
isn't one-sided. I can tell you, it took quite an
effort to stay diplomatic in the face of their
arrogant reception for us. There are four warships
boxing my ship. Two against nine, then, if anything
should go wrong."
  "You make alliances as fast as you break them,
Kumara," Kirk replied tightly. "It seems
to me you talk awfully confidently[*thorngg'and
dangerously as well. How do you know they aren't
monitoring this frequency?"
  "Their vessels and civilisation are impressive
for a primitive race," Kumara admitted. "But
we tested this with a shuttlecraft of our own several
days ago. They do not possess the equipment to break
in and eavesdrop on this particular frequency."
There was a pause as the Klingon captain glanced at
something or someone out of view and made a disapproving
sound.
  "Dear me, Jim," he said when he turned his
attention back to the screen pickup, "it appears that
your ship has suffered a considerable amount of
damage. Not very appealing to look at, I can
assure you. What happened?"
  "We were caught," Kirk said slowly,
seeing no rea
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 167
  son to conceal the matter, "in a wavicle
barrage from a variable pulsar. A supposedly
beaconed variable pulsar. The damage almost was
severe enough to keep us from arriving here in time for the
conference." He leaned forward again. When he spoke,
his voice had assumed a low,
  threatening undercurrent of accusation. "I don't
suppose, Kumara, that you have any idea what
caused those beacons to malfunction?"
  The Klingon captain looked offended. "Am I
expected to know the position and disposition of every petty
Federation navigational device? I sympathise with
your concern, naturally."
  "Of course you do," murmured McCoy sotto
voce. "We can see that you're all broken up over
it."
  "So you had nothing to do with it, then?" Kirk
persisted.
  "To say that my ship was responsible for the
destruction of an interstellar navigation beacon is
inflammatory, besides being personally insulting,
Jim."
  "I could care less how you interpret
it," Kirk shot back. "Did you destroy those
beacons?"
  "We destroyed no navigational beacons,"
Kumara replied with great dignity. Then he added in
a slightly less formal voice, while finding
something of extreme interest in the underside of his
fingernails: "We were, however, patrolling
routinely on our way to this conference through the fringes of the
disputed territories. We did encounter a couple
of malfunctioning fragments of space debris,
hazards to navigation, actually, which we promptly
eliminated so as to prevent the possibility of an
accident to any vessel of Klingon or Federation."
  "Then you did blow out those beacons!" Kirk
slammed a fist down on one arm of the command chair,
glaring furiously at the calm face on the
viewscreen.
  "Hazards to navigation, Jim," Kumara
corrected him.
  "Your pardon, Captain."
  "Who's that?" Kumara looked to the right on his
screen, saw Spock's outline flickering in and out
of his view. "Ah, the inimitable Commander Spock."
  "I might remind you, Captain," said Spock
Datly, "that the destruction of Federation
property, in partic
  168 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  ular something of a nonmilitary nature such as a
navigational beacon, is in direct violation of the
Klingon-Federation subsidiary articles of peace as
appended to the Treaty of Organia."
  Kumara shook his head, looked very tired. "I
told you and will tell you for the last time, gentlemen, that
we destroyed no navigation beacons. We
torpedoed several nonfunctional pieces of
free-floating metallic debris, that's all."
  "The beacons," Spock continued, as if the
Klingon captain had said nothing at all, "would not have
been broadcasting unless there was something to broadcast
about. Specifically, imminent danger from a
high-intensity burst of radiation from the pulsar they were
placed around. So if you destroyed them at a time when
no such outburst was imminent[*thorngg'and there is
no other way you could have approached the
  beacons near enough to do so, without first receiving an
all-clear from them[*thorngg'then you could say they were
nonfunctional.
  "Furthermore," the first officer continued, "to say
in the first place that an object as small and low in
mass as a beacon could present a hazard
of any kind in the little-frequented section of space
where they were located is absurd. A starship
traveling at warp-drive would barely take
notice of the impact a beacon-sized object would
make against its meteoric shields as it dis-
integrated. And the chances of such a collision occurring
are small enough to border on the infinitesimal."
  "Ah," countered Kumara, wagging a cautionary
finger, "but they are finite, Commander."
  "That may be so," Spock began,
"but[*thorn]"
  "And no matter how slight the possibility, we
of Klingon always seek ways to improve the space
lanes and make them safer for travel by any ship."
  "Kumara," said Kirk softly, barely holding
his anger in check, "I am reporting your
destruction of both beacons to Starfleet Command.
An
  official protest will be registered with the imperial
government, and[*thorn]"
  "Oh, come now, Jim," the Klingon captain
chided him. "Why waste the power? There's no way you
can prove that my ship was responsible for the so-called
demise of your precious beacons. In fact, there
is no
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 169
  way you can prove we were even in the area, which," he
added quickly, "we were not, of course."
  "He's right, Captain." Spock looked
  disappointed. "Our claim is not supported
by fact, only by supposition and deduction."
  "Good enough for me, Mr. Spock," Kirk
  snapped, a mite testily.
  "True, Captain, and for myself also. However,
Starfieet will not regard it so. Certainly not enough
to base a protest on, one which could trigger a grave
interstellar incident. There would be charges and
countercharges, and without proof . . ."
  "Spock's right, Jim."
  Kirk didn't look around. "I know he's right,
Bones. But this is one time I wish he wasn't."
  "From what I can overhear of the discussion taking
place around you, Jim, involving some of your
officers, I would presume, you'd best heed their
advice. They are quite correct. You can't do a
thing." The Klingon captain sounded very pleased with
himself.
  "On the other hand, Kumara," Kirk mused
dangerously, "I could apply inferential logic of
my own regarding the destruction of the beacons
and use that as grounds on which to take appropriate
retributive action."
  Kumara's veneer of good
fellowship[*thorngg'never thicker than need
be[*thorngg'abruptly vanished. So did his
air of affected courtesy. No longer did he
resemble some peculiar hybrid. He had turned
thoroughly Klingon in expression and manner, although his
reply was still more controlled than the average Klingon
captain would have managed, considering the implications
of the threat Kirk had just made.
  "If it's a fight you're looking for, Jim,
we'll be most happy to oblige you."
  "No." Kirk leaned back in the command chair,
satisfied at the result his warning had produced.
"I was just getting tired of that oily grin of yours."
  As if on cue, the expression in question
reappeared. "Which oily grin, Jim? This one?"
Kumara had a real sense of humor, a genuine
rarity among Klingons, making him all the more
dangerous.
  170 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  Now that Kirk had indicated he had no
  intention of opening hostilities, the Klingon
captain once more relaxed. "No,
naturally we cannot fight, Jim. This conference is far
too important to interrupt with petty squabbling
among ourselves. Of course, once our friends and
allies the Briamosites learn firsthand of the
natural, ingrained duplicity of the Federation, then with
their numerous well-armed ships about to assist us, I
might reconsider."
  "Don't count on their help in anythung,
Kumara. They're not your friends and allies yet."
  "In good time, Jim. Merely a formality, as you
will discover. I have preparations to make. Until the
conference, then . . . ?" And without giving Kirk a
chance to reply, the transmission from the Klingon
cruiser terminated.
  was 'In good time," was Kirk muttered, mimicking
his Klingon counterpart. "In about twenty million
years, maybe, but not before."
  "I don't believe the Briamosites will be
around in twenty million years, Captain,"
Spock pointed out philosophically. "Most
species are[*thorn]"
  Kirk sounded tired. "I don't think they will
either, Mr. Spock. I wasn't being serious. I
only meant to say that[*thorngg'never mind.
Obviously
  Kumara destroyed those beacons. They have an
excellent intelligence service. Undoubtedly they
knew we were coming and which direction we were coming from:
Starbase Twenty-F'ive.
  "With that in mind, they eliminated the beacons so we
wouldn't know when the pulsar was going to emit a
dangerous outburst of radiation. All of which was
intended to prevent us from attending the conference. They could
have canceled the beacons and, traveling at maximum
velocity, still have arrived here three days ago as
  Colonel-Greeter Pliver informed us.
  "You saw Kumara's first expression, Bones.
He wasn't expecting us to show up at all. Thought
the pulsar would finish us." Kirk smiled grimly.
"Well, we've a few more surprises we can
spring on him."
  "The important thing is that we're here,"
McCoy pointed out. "We'll outmaneuver
Kumara at the conference. Klingons have a bulit-in
aversion to diplomacy
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 171
  that will eventually undo their standing in the eyes of the
Briamosites. That's for sure."
  "Not entirely sure, Doctor," Spock
cautioned. "One must realise that this Kumara
is not a typical Klingon. He appears capable
of subtlety and even courtesy. Furthermore, there
is the unsightly condition of the Enterprise. The
damage we have sustained has already given the
Klingons the first few points with the Briamosites."
  "I still can't buy that, Spock."
  "If you have studied the recordings of the lectures
given at Starbase Twenty-Five, Doctor, you
will recall that the Briamosites attach a good deal
of importance to personal appearance." He
indicated the main screen, which once again showed a
view of the gleaming Klingon cruiser. "A detail
to which Captain Kumara and his crew have clearly paid
much attention. The contrast between his vessel's
appearance and that of our own can only be to his
benefit. Remember," he added after a pause,
"humans originated the ancient saying about the
importance of first impressions."
  "Mr. Spock, even the Briamosites will pay
most attention to the last impression. That will be the
critical one, and we have something very
  impressive to demonstrate the power of the Federation
with. T." He pointed to the corner, where the empty
Slaver stasis box rested
  unobtrusively.
  "The artifact, Captain? You still intend
to employ trickery to convince the Briamosites that
the box is unopened and untouched?"
  "I do, Mr. Spock. Toward the
Briamosites arid the Klingons. You know firsthand
what a Slaver stasis field looks like.
Surely you and Mr. Scott can build a small
device which can fit inside the box and simulate such
a field?"
  "As I mentioned once before, Captain, that should not
be too difficult." Spock still didn't appear
enthusiastic about the idea.
  "No one will test the field," Kirk pointed out,
seeking to convince his first officer, "because the only sure
way to do that would be to open the box, and none of the
Klingon delegation is likely to be lugging a
nullifier around."
  172 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  "You really think the box will be that
  impressive to the Briamosites, Jim?" a
dubious McCoy asked.
  "I do. Not just the presence of the box, Bones, but
the fact that we would bring it down to an alien world with
us, just to demonstrate our friendship. The
Briamosites are very
  sophisticated, remember. We can't risk
thinking of them as an inferior race. In straight
in- telligence they're likely to be the equal of
any member race in the Federation. They have
  everything but war tilde drive technology.
  "I'm sure they know about Slaver stasis
boxes, if only by reputation. So I'm expecting
them to react toward our box exactly as we'd
react if some strange people came to negotiate with
us, carrying an unopened stasis box like a loaf of
bread, purely for us to admire.
  "It'll be even more impressive," he went on
enthusiastically, "because we've brought a stasis box
knowing that Klingons will be present. That fact should
impress the Briamosites more than the presence of the
box itself. A lot more than a shiny shipl" He
smiled expectantly. "Kumara will be even more
impressed and surprised than the
Briamositesjust as I would be if he'd brought
an unopened stasis box with him."
  "We have no formal treaty as yet with the
Briamosites, Captain," Spock reminded
him. "What certainty have we that they will not attempt
to take the box for themselves?
  Revelation of our prevarication when they
find the box is empty and its field a fake could
drive them into the Klingon orbit permanently."
  "If they steal the box, Mr. Spock, I'm not
sure they're the type of people the Federation would want as
fellow citizens anyway. But I don't see that
happening. Too many imponderables. For one thing, I
don't think they have enough familiarity with stasis
fields to construct a stasis nullifier."
  "iKlingons do," McCoy observed. "They could
simply ask the Klingons for help in opening the
box."
  Kirk grinned triumphantly. "And there's the
catch, Bones. Just because they steal the box from us
doesn't mean they'd want an alliance with
Klingon. Furthermore, in order to gain Klingon
aid in opening the box,
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 173
  the Briamosites would have to trust it to Kumara's
care more or less.
  "While the Briamosites have a lot of
firepower ringing both the Enterprise and Kumara's
ship, it's still possible that either of us could outrun them
before they could seriously damage us. And I don't
think the Briamosites are naive to trust Kumara
with a stasis box, either stolen or one of their
own.
  "Besides, theft of a stasis box from us would be
tantamount to an excuse for war on the part of the
Federation. As advanced as their civilisation is, I
don't think the Briamosites are ready
militarily to take on either Klingon or the
Federation, and I believe they're realistic enough to know
that.
  "No, their best bet is to be truthful and
straightforward throughout the entire conference, to play
fair with both sides and not risk their whole future
on something silly like stealing an archaic alien
artifact. They might envy us the stasis box, but
I don't see them chancing all their hopes on a
single theft."
  "Kumara won't feel that way, Jim,"
McCoy continued.
  Kirk shook his head. "Yes he will, Bones.
Consider: If he tries stealing the box, he'll have
to do so in front of, or at least with the knowledge of, the
Briamosites. That would constitute a breach of
Briamos's neutrality, not to mention an insult
to every high Briamosite offlcial attending the
conference. The result would be to drive Briamos
into the Federation."
  "I see now." McCoy nodded slowly.
"You're planning this whole incident with the box, half
hoping the Klingons will steal it."
  "That's the idea, Bones. Of course, once
Kumara discovers that the box has long since been
opened and emptied, he'll come running back
to Briamos squealing in outrage about the treachery of the
Federation and its deceitful minions[*thorngg't's
us. But by men it'll be too late, if I read the
Briamosites correctly. If I've learned
anything about them from all those lectures, it's mat
they're basically a decent, honorable people. Once
of- fended by the Klingons, I sincerely believe
they'd remain firmly allied to the Federation, no
matter what Kumara might claim after me fact."
  174 STAR TREK
  "Which makes it all the more important for us
to convince them to join with the Federation, Captain, in the
event that Kumara does not try to steal the stasis
box," Spock reminded them both.
  Kirk turned in the command chair. "I'm not arguing
that, Mr. Spock. How long will it take for you and
Scotty to concoct something to put inside the stasis
box that will simulate a Slaver field?"
  "In our spare time, Captain?"
  "No, this is a priority assignment, Mr.
Spock. You should begin immediately."
  "Very well, though the entire idea still strikes me
as tending too much to the childish . . ."
  "So was the Trojan Horse, Spock."
  The first officer didn't reply as he walked
over and picked up the box of Slaver metal. After
a brief examination to refamiliarise himself, he
turned to Kirk and said, "I estimate three hours
to plan the device and design the schematics and
another three or four to build and install it m the
box."
  Kirk looked satisfied. "Fine, Spock.
Go to it."
  Spock headed for the turbolift.
  As events developed, it was fortunate that the first
offlcer's estimates about the time required were
accurate. Colonel-Greeter Pliver called
now to inform them that the first meeting of the conference had been
scheduled to take place at 0900 ship-time the
following morning.
  Later, when the device had been designed and
computer-tested, Spock was able to leave the details
of construction to Scott and his
  engineering staff and head for his
cabin[*thorn)'ffsleep, and with worried thoughts about
the critical conference ahead . . .
  X111
  The Federation delegation consisted of four smartly
dressed officers: Kirk, Spock, Sulu, and
Uhura. They met in the main transporter room
the following morning.
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 175
  "This first meeting will probably consist mostly of
introductions," Kirk was saying as the four walked
toward the transporter alcove. "You know:
'Captain Kirk, meet the esteemed president of
Briamos's second stellar system. Esteemed
President, First Officer Spock. Captain
Kumara, greet Captain Kirk," and so on.
Everyone says much, means little, and generally uses the
opportunity to size up his counterparts. But just because
no vital issues are likely to be discussed
doesn't mean this opening meeting isn't
  important, Mr. Sulu." The helmsman,
who had been sunk partly in his own thoughts, looked
startled.
  "Your collar is folded in on the left side,
Mr. Sulu," Kirk said sharply. "Straighten
it."
  "Yes, sir." Sulu hastened to do so. "Do you
think the Briamosites care enough about
  appearances to have researched our uniforms so they can
check on our individual appearances?"
  "I don't know, Mr. Sulu," Kirk said
easily. "They might not know a Starfleet dress
uniform proper from an engineer's work coveralls.
But," he added quietly and meaningfully, "I do."
  The helmsman double-checked his straightened
collar.
  All four officers looked splendid in their
dress uniforms as they stepped up into the
transporter. Spock carried the Slaver stasis
box in both arms. The box was bathed in a
delicate blue aura; in appearance it was
indistinguishable from the cerulean halo the originally
unopened box had been enveloped in when Spock had
first seen it back on Gruyakin VI.
  Second Engineer Dastagir was manning the
transporter console. Kirk turned to him.
  "Engineer, you have the coordinates for setting down
which the Briamosites provided for us?"
  "Yes, sir," came the ready reply. "Already
pro- grammed into the computer, sir. Ready when you
are."
  Kirk nodded once. The four officers assumed
a waiting stance on four separate disks in the
alcove. As soon as they were properly positioned,
Kirk signaled to Dastagir. The second engineer
initiated transport.
  Gradually the four stiff figures were replaced
by four
  176 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  pillars of flickering metallic iridescence.
The figure-pillars began to fade . . . and
coalesce . . . and fade again. And coalesce
again.
  Startled, Engineer Dastagir hurriedly checked
dials and readouts. Everything read normal, all
instrurnentation reported proper functioning, yet .
. . the four columns of energy had still not vanished.
There was such a thing as abnormally slow transport,
affected sometimes by a
  surge-delay in the transporter equipment,
sometimes by localized planetary effects. But as the
seconds slid away, Dastagir could rule out either
of those possibilities.
  Something sparked from the console. A
  nervous, crackling sound filled the room.
Fragments of multihued energy broke from
the four fluctuating pillars and appeared to drift
between them, filling the transporter alcove with an
ilhlsion of rainbow snow. Pops and snarls filled
the room as confused mechanisms growled in frustration
at one another.
  Within the alcove the four figure shapes were
oscillating wildly now. A t the strongest point
of coalescence the four officers were discernible down
to individual characteristics. At the weakest, when they
had become amorphous
  cloud forms, they seemed almost to blend into a single
glittering sphere.
  Frantically Dastagir threw switches,
overrode, backed up, compensated for. Oscillation
  intensified but transportation did not take
place.
  Faced with a disaster of frightening
  proportions, Dastagir did the only remaining
thing he could. He threw the emergency control which would
freeze energy levels within the transporter
alcove in their present mode. Additional power
flowed on request into the transporter mechanisms
to lock the four
  fluttering, uncertain figures within the alcove in
place, together with the indistinct swirl of
energy surrounding them.
  Once the control had been cut in, nothing
changed. The four figures neither coalesced nor
grew any dimmer. Energy levels held
suspended. That gave Dastagir time to do what any
  intelligent engineer in his position should have done:
call for help. Sweating, fumbling at the intercom
control, he waited anxiously for a reply.
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 177
  It came promptly, its calmness contrasting
violently with his own excited' anxious self.
"Bridge here. Commander Scott speaking."
  "Commander, sir, this is Dastagir Engineer
Second, down in the main transporter room,
sir."
  "Slow down, Dastagir." Scott had immediately
detected something in the usually imperturbable
engineer's voice. He sat a little straighter in the
command chair. "Trouble?"
  "Yes, sir, I've locked them on emergency
hold and[*thorn]"
  "Calm down! Exactly what's the matter?"
A horrible suspicion was forming in the chief's
mind. "Did the captain and the others get down
yet7"
  "No, sir, that's just it. And I don't know
what's the matter. I've double-checked everything and the
transporter insists it's functioning properly and
it's not[*thorn]" Dastagir stopped, caught
his breath, rambled on rapidly. "I had the
Briamosite coordinates programmed in and was
  beaming-down Captain Kirk and the other of ficers
when something went haywire."
  "Haywire's not an acceptable engineering term,
Mr. Dastagir," said Scott sharply.
"Elaborate."
  "As near as I can make out there's something
producing a field distortion in the transporter,
sir. I couldn't beam them down and I can't pull
them out of it, so I threw in the emergency lock.
They're fieldfrozen now. And there's something else
happening I've never seen before, some kind of
energy-matter interaction taking place on the
transporter itself."
  "So you threw the field lock?"
  "Yes, sir." Dastagir sounded desperately
unhappy. "It was all I could think of to do."
  "Don't . . . do . . . anything . . .
else," Scott or- dered Dastagir, spacing the
words out for extra impact. "I'll be right
there." The chief engineer hit the off switch on the
intercom, spoke toward the navigationhelm console.
"Mr. Arex?"
  The Edoan looked back at him. "Yes,
sir?"
  "Assume command. We're experiencin' a
  malfunction with the transporter the captain's
usin'."
  "How bad?" asked Arex, worried.
  178 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  Scott was already racing past communications and a
curious M'ress on his way to the turbolift.
"It doesn't sound good. I canna tell for
certain until I see for myself.""
  Once inside the lift car, Scott pressed the
emergency override. This sent the car directly to the
transporter room, bypassing all other demands
on the car's service and producing puzzled stares from
several waiting crew
  members scattered about the ship as their
anticipated lift went racing past their
respective call stations without stopping.
  As the chief entered the transporter room his
gaze went first to the alcove. He saw the Dickering
silhouettes of sparkling wavicles
fluttering on the four transporter disks, noted
the energetic abnormality coloring the air around
them.
  Those observations were superficial. The real
definition of what lay within the alcove would be found in
readouts and dials on the instrument console. He was
checking them out immediately, balancing their stubborn
readings against the impossibilities registering
visually within the alcove.
  Dastagir stood helpless to one side, watching,
ready to assist if he was needed.
  "Any sign of any unusual activity in the
mechanisms before the trouble became apparent, Mr.
Dastagir?"
  "No, sir," the distraught engineer replied,
hands clenched tightly at his sides. "I tried
readjusting the matrix, canceling the initial
input[*thorngg'everything I could think of. Nothing
worked. They just continued to oscillate." He licked
his lower lip, gazed at the alcove. "It's the
blurring of the field parameters that has me really
worried, sir."
  "Probably nothing to get excited about,"
Scott lied. "Get Dr. McCoy and a medical
team up here." He nodded in the direction
of the alcove. "They might need some dressin' up
when we bring them back."
  If we bring them back, he added silently
to himself. Better not even consider that.
  He took a handful of tools no less
intricately formed than McCoy's surgical
instruments and dropped to a prone position, on his
back. Once the base panel in the
  STAR TREK TEN 179
  console was off, he slid his head inside, reached
in and up with baths hands, and set to work on
circuitry no less sensitive than the organic
variety McCoy operated on.
  At Dastagir's request, and explanation,
Dr. McCoy, Nurse Chapel, and several
meditechs arrived in the transporter room several
minutes later. An of them stared dumbfounded at the
particulate storm suspended within the alcove.
  "Scatty, what happened?" asked an anguished
McCoy.
  "Don't know for sure, Doctor," Scott
told him, his voice tinged with strain. His head did
not emerge from the bottom of the console. "I'm tryin'
to find out now."
  ""But Jim, Spock, the
others[*thorn]"
  "They're no worse off now than they were when this
started, Doctor," replied Scott. "Engineer
Dastagir had the sense to throw a lock on the
entire system when he couldn't figure out what was
happenin"."
  McCoy's thoughts were running down
  predictable paths. "The Klingons," he began
furiously. "They've done something
to[*thorn]!"
  "I dinna think so, Doctor," Scott's
cautious voice broke in. It reverberated
faintly inside the console. A couple of moments
later he emerged, holding several strange-looking,
gleaming tools in his right hand. Both hand and tools
looked damp with a transparent fluid thicker than
water and McCoy knew the engineer had been
adjusting fluid-state switches.
  "Damaged wavicle rectification system,"
Scott said tightly, wiping his wet palm on his
pants. "I hope that's all it was. Those
switches shouldn't ever bust, but once in a while they
do. Our luck these took a bad moment
to rupture." He turned to the console, put his
tools down, and glanced briefly at
Dastagir. "Let's bring "em back, mister."
  "Yes, sir." Dastagir moved to stand
alongside the chief and assist, while McCoy,
Chapel, and the rest of the medical team stood aside
and looked on anxiously.
  Dastagir threw a switch and Scott's hands
moved simultaneously on familiar controls. The
wavering,
  180 STAR TREK TEN
  banshee whine of the transporter abruptly
softened, steadied, and then strengthened. The background
field of waltzing energies vanished, leaving only
four cylinders of fire. Crackling and sputtering
no longer issued from the console.
  The four pillars in the alcove intensified,
melded into four recognisable, well-dressed
figures. Scott meanwhile kept his attention
fixed on one particular gauge. When its
luminescent pointer reached a certain number, he
threw a large switch.
  All four figures solidified. The envelope
of energy surrounding them vanished, and the whine from the
transporter dropped to nothing. The four collapsed
into various, sprawling positions on the alcove
disks.
  McCoy and the rest of the medical team were at their
sides instantly, Scott and Dastagir a few
seconds after. Scott leaned over the kneeling form
of McCoy. The doctor had rolled Kirk onto
his back and was passing a medical tricorder over the
motionless form of the captain. Scott saw no visible
damage, but he knew that any serious injury the
officers might have suffered would probably not be
easily noticeable.
  McCoy started at the top of Kirk's head,
grunted in what sounded like a gratified manner when
he had reached Kirk's neck, and continued passing the
compact device down the unconscious captain's
body until it passed over his feet. A few
readjustments to the instrument and McCoy repeated the
pass, moving from feet to head this time. Then he
relaxed visibly.
  "He's all right," he told the expectant
Scott, glancing back up and smiling in relief
at the engineer. "Heartbeat, brain functions,
involuntary muscular activity, everytlung, all
his vital signs read normal[*thorngg'adjusting
for his unconscous state, of course."
  "Same here, Doctor," reported Nurse
Chapel. She was bending over the lanky
shape of Spock.
  The reports were identical from the technicians
examining Sulu and Uhura. "They're okay,
then?" asked Scott.
  "Looks like." McCoy rose.
  Kirk's eyelids were beginning to twitch and his head
to move from side to side. A low, tired moan
escaped
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 181
  his lips. McCoy knelt again on one side and
Scott on the other. Together they helped the groggy
captain to his feet. Scott looked briefly
at his wrist chronometer.
  "If you can certify them all right, Doctor,
we'll take them down to the bulk transporter."
  "But the Klingons[*thorn]" McCoy began.
  Scott shook him off. "I told you,
Doctor, the Klingons had nothing to do with this. Either it
was unexpected but plausible equipment failure,
or else we suffered some concealed damage from that
pulsar outburst we rode out. And the captain has
to be down on the surface within the hour, to attend that
conference. Remember the Starbase lectures. The
Briamosites make a religion of
punctuality."
  "But surely they'll accept a reasonable
explanation for a delay, Scotty?"
  "I wouldn't count on it. These people strike me as
bein" basically good folk, but they've got their
peculiarities. And I canna blame them for
bein' nervous about this conference. If the captain and
Mr. Spock and the lieutenants can be there on time,
they've got to try and make it."
  McCoy's reply was hesitant but positive
as they supported the swaying Kirk. "I don't
see why they can't go . . . so far, Scotty."
Looking over a shoulder, he saw that the other three
officers had also been helped to stand.
  Under the doctor's direction, the four stunned
officers were helped stumblingly out of the transporter
alcove. Kirk walked like a man drunk, as if
he couldn't find his balance. But by the time they had
walked-carried him as far as the console, he shrugged
off their support. Putting out both hands, he
braced himself on the console, then turned, leaned against
it, and raised his left hand to his forehead, wincing.
His eyes opened, and he seemed to see them for the first
time.
  "Mr. Scott, Doctor McCoy . . .
What
  happened?" There was an odd lilt to Kirk's
otherwise normal voice, as if the captain
hadn't yet regained full control of all his
faculties. Neither the chief nor McCoy paid much
attention to it. After the disturbing experience of being
frozen in a transporter field for an abnormal
length of
  182 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  time, a few mild side effects were only to be
expected. Scott explained. "There was a
  malfunction in the transporter, Captain.
Maybe due to damage received from that pulsar we
encountered. We had put you all in limbo for a while
until I could get it fixed. You gave us all a
bad scare."
  "Oh . . . I guess that explains it."
Kirk paused, then frowned and stared at Scott.
tilde "Captain" . . . you called me
"Captain." his
  Scott and McCoy exchanged glances.
  "Naturally, sir," said Scott, as gently as
possible.
  "Are you feeling all right, Jim?" McCoy was
watching Kirk closely.
  "Jimblea" Kirk's voice sounded a
touch higher, more tenor, than usual. Part of that could
be attributed to shock at his recent experience, but
not all of it. "Why are you calling me that?" Now the
captain sounded[*thorn] and looked[*thorngg'a
little
  scared.
  "What else should I call you, Jim? What's
wrong?" Privately McCoy was thinking:
  temporary amnesia But no . . . Kick
recognized his name and title, merely wasn't
identifying with them. Something else was wrong, then.
  The three officers stared at each other as if
paralyzed, until a new voice broke in:
"Scotty, Bonesl What in the name of the seven
black holes has happened?"
  Both men turned together. Sulu was eyeing them in a
most authoritative fashion. The helmsman
released himself, started toward Scott and
McCoy[*thorngg'and almost fell. Startled, he
looked down at his feet, registered surprise and
astonishment, and then came toward them again . . .
walking carefully as if treading on eggshells.
  "Jim? Sulu?" McCoy's dazed gaze
switched back and forth between captain and helmsman.
  Sulu's eyes traveled over his lower
body. He extended both arms out in front of him,
rotated them over and back. His hands went to his
face, felt the features as would a blind man touching
a friend. His eyes widened.
  "Oh my goal What's happened to us? What's
happened to me?" He gestured shakily toward the
body of
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 183
  the captain. "If I'm Kirk, in Sulu's
body, then who are you?"
  "I'm Lieutenant Uhura, of course,"
replied Kirk's body, in that peculiarly
modulated tone that was so like Kirk's normal
voice yet wasn't. Then Uhura-kirk looked
down at herself. She said nothing for long moments.
  "I'm here, Scotty, Bones. In Sulu's
body."
  Kirk-sulu eyed them both, amazed and stunned.
  "It would appear," put in the voice in
  Lieutenant Uhura's body very calmly and
  rationally, "that while we were in the
  malfunctioning transporter field a part of each
of us was switched."
  "A most important part," Kirk-sulu
agreed, staring over at the now-alien shape
of his science chief. "That is you, Mr. Spock?"
  The first officer spoke to them, from Uhura's
body, with Uhura's voice. While the tones were
unquestionably those of Lieutenant Uhura, the choice
of words and flatness of speech were those of Spock.
"It is, Captain." He started toward them,
stumbled for one of the few times in his adult life, and
moved on much more cautiously.
  "It would appear, Captain," Spock-uhura
said, addressing himself to Sulu's body, "that I am
not quite myself.)"' McCoy did a
double-take[*thorngg'he was beginning to wonder who
he really was[*thorngg'b Spock was serious as
ever. The joke was
  unintentional. "That is you in Lieutenant
Sulu's body."
  "It's beginning to look so." Kirk-sulu still
sounded overwhelmed by it all. Turning, he stared across
at the stolid form of Mr. Spock, who was
carefully inspecting himself, running hands over his
body, head, and, most particularly, a pair of
unfamiliar ears.
  "Since everyone else has been accounted for . .
." There was no need to finish the comment. But the voice
in Spock's body finished for him, and
confirmed the inevitable. "Yes, it's me, sir,"
admitted Sulu-spock. "I feel so strange,
sir. This body . . . so many subtle differences.
I feel different, altered. Not ill, exactly.
Just queasy."
  "I would sympathize with you, Lieutenant," said
  184 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  Spock-uhura, "but at least you have ended up in a
body of the proper gender. If you wish to compare
unnatural feelings," and at that
  Spock-uhura glanced down meaningfully at its
curvilinear form, "I believe mine far exceed
yours. Nothing could feel more awkward than this. I
find myself in a body of different sex and different
race. I believe I can cope sufficiently with the
mind, but the rest will take careful work."
  "Don't count on being unique, Mr.
Spock."
  Uhurakirk was experimentally walking in a small
circle, testing out a different arrangement of mass
and new, more powerful musculature. "I didn't
exactly end up in an
  easy-to-compensate-for container either, you know."
She almost stumbled again, caught
  herself, then grinned.
  "No wonder I nearly fell down the first time
I tried to take a step, McCoy. The captain
uses a longer stride than I'm used to."
  "The question remains, what can be done to put us back
where we all belong?" Kirk-sulu's attention was
focused on the wide-eyed face of the ship's chief
engineer.
  Instantly, every other eye in the transporter
room turned the same way.
  Scott collected himself, thought a moment, and
started to reply . . . to Uhura-kirk.
Correcting himself, he shifted to address the body of
Lieutenant Sulu.
  "Nothing right away, I'm afraid . . .
Captain," he told Kirk-sulu
apologetically. Turning, he bent over and reached
into the still-open console panel near the floor. He
withdrew a small rectangle, about twenty
centimeters long, which was filled with
microcircuitry. It looked like a piece of
metallic turf.
  As he spoke, his fingers wove an intangible
web over the battered, damp panel. "Everything
that's been damaged on this I've either bypassed or
replaced. The key to the personality-mind
switch you've all experienced is locked in place
on this panel.
  "To put you all back to your original bodies,
I've first got to figure out exactly what went
wrong. Then I have to trace the one minuscule
portion of the damage that produced the
  personality switch and change cur
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 185
  rent flows, matching energy levels and duration
precisely all the way, mind you, so that when you go
back into the transporter the personality changes will
reswitch themselves without doing further damage to some
other portion of your bodies or minds."
  He let the panel dangle carefully from one
palm. "It's not," he added meaningfully, "a
five-minute job for a maintenance tech to perform with a
hammer and chisel."
  "Wait a minute," said an excited
Sulu-spock. "The transporter computer bank
holds memories of all our transporter
patterns. Why can't we just go to another
transporter, desolidify ourselves, and then have the right
patterns punched into the transporter so that when
we're recombined it will be in the correct pattern
. . . and proper bodies?"
  "I dinna think it's that easy, Lieutenant,"
Scott began to explain. "If you'd been
completely dematerialized in the transporter and
then fully rematerialized elsewhere, I might be
willin" to try it. But that didn't happen. Only
part of your patterns were switched, and it was before full
dematerialization had taken place." He shook his
head. "No, I dinna think it's a good idea. It
might even make things worse than they are now."
  "I don't believe any of us could stand that, Mr.
Scott," said Spock-uhura.
  "That's for certain," agreed Kirk-sulu.
"Things are going to be hard enough to cope with as they stand."
He faced Scott again. "I don't expect
miracles, Scotty. How long before you can
localise and repair the troubled sections?"
  Scott glanced down at the tiny panel, which had
suddenly assumed enormous significance. "I
kinna say for certain, sir. At least a couple of
days. I dinna want to take a chance with you all in
the transporter until I'm sure as I can be that
I've fixed it."
  "A couple of days?" Uhura-kirk glanced
down at her
massive[*thorn)'ffher[*thorngg'line
ar shape. "I don't know if I can handle a
couple of days in this body, Mr. Scott."
  "I'm afraid you'll have to, Lieutenant,"
said Kirksulu meaningfully. "We'll all have
to."
  "But what about the conference, sir?" she wondered.
  186 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  McCoy nodded. "That's right, Jim." He
checked his own chronometer. "You're supposed to be
down on Briamos for the conference's opening session in
twothirds of an hour."
  "They're expecting Mr. Spock and myself,"
noted Kirk-sulu. He pointed at first
Uhura's body, then Sulu's. "That means that the
four of us are still going to have to attend. It's too
late to change designated envoys, and I don't
think the Briamosites would accept anyone below
captain's rank as a designated ambassador."
  "But how are we going to manage, sir?"
  wondered Sulu-spock. "It doesn't seem
possible."
  "It has to be possible, Mr. Sulu. We
can't ask for a postponement of the conference time without
offending the Briamosites, and even if we could
there's no guarantee that Scotty will be able
to fix the transporter and put us back in our own
bodies," and he added hastily, unable to leave so
grim a thought without hope, "in a reasonable amount
of time."
  "What precisely do you propose, Captain?"
Spockubura looked on with interest.
  "Mr. Spock, the captain and first officer of the
U.s.s. Enterprise wit1 be present at this
conference." His gaze wandered to his own body (how
strange to be staring at a self that was not a mirror
image), now inhabited by the personality of
Lieutenant Uhura, and to that of Mr. Spock, in
which Lieutenant Sulu was currently residing.
"So will Lieutenant Sulu[*thorngg't's me.
And
  Lieutenant Uhura[*thorngg't's you, Mr.
Spock."
  Uhura's head nodded once. "What you and I do
is not particularly important. We're
lower-ranking officers, attending our superiors.
We won't be closely watched.
  "Mr. Sulu, you and Lieutenant Uhura will be
acting as principals in this little play. So your
imitations will have to be much more convincing. Mr. Sulu,
at least you're in a body of proper
gender, one not unlike your own in build and
musculature." He turned his attention to his own
ghost shape. "The success of this pantornime,
Lieutenant Uhura, and of the entire conference, rests
on your shoulders[*thorngg'even if they happen
to also be mine." His own eyes were staring back at him
ex
  STAR TREK LOG TBN 187
  pectantly.to his surprise, he found he had
to repress a slight shiver.
  "For one thing," he went on, "you'll be operating
under the constant scrutiny of the Briamosites. Now,
Captain Kumara knows me, but not
  intimately. I don't know how much he
remembers in the way of personality traits and
habits from our time together at the defunct
Interspecies Academy. Probably not a great
deal. But you'll have hormonal and other physical
responses, the normal reactions of a male
human body, to cope with. Some of them may
surprise you at
  unexpected moments. Somehow you're going to have
to act natural, nonetheless."
  "y don't see that I'm going to have it that much
easier, sir," objected a concerned
Sulu-spock. "At least Uhura's in a human
body. Talking about unexpecte
  hormonal reactions, I'm in a Vulcan
body. Already I'm feeling, well, itchy."
  "It should not be overly difficult,
Lieutenant," Spock-uhura insisted quietly.
"All you have to do is act sensibly."
  "That's easy for you to say, Mr. Spock,"
countered Sulu-spock testily.
  "And you'll have to learn to control your facial
expressions," Spock-uhura warned the
lieutenant. "Those grotesque distortions of lips
and mouth, the unnecessary head gestures must be eliminated
if you halfway expect to . . . to . . ."
  Spock-uhura halted in midsentence, staring at
nothing in particular. "Most peculiar," the first
officer finally murmured in Uhura's bell-like
voice. He looked up at Dr. McCoy. "I
presume, that my near outburst just then is what
might be called an emotional response."
  "Possibly, Spock. If so, it was very
mild." McCoy considered carefully. "You raised
your voice, but that's not necessarily an indication of
emotional coloring."
  Spock-uhura placed both hands against
his fore- head, winced at something that was not pain. "I
feel most unusual, Doctor. My self
appears reluctant to follow directions."
Abruptly, the hands dropped and
  188 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  Spock-uhura looked at Kirk-sulu
primly. "This is going to be more difficult than I
first assumed, Captain."
  "It's not going to be easy for any of us, Mr.
Spock." Kirk-sulu sounded firm. "But it has
to be tried. Otherwise Briamos will ally itself with
Klingon. I'm willing to chance anything to prevent that
from happening.
  "We have a couple of things going for us, however.
Briamosites know very little of human behavior.
Our ambassador," he added drily, "didn't
strike me as your average human being anyway. So
much of our seemingly aberrant behavior can
probably be explained away, if we do anything
awkward. It will be more difficult to fool the
Klingons, but they think all humans are a little
crazy in their behavior anyhow."
  "That is not entirely a Klingon assessment,"
noted Spock-uhura pointedly. "The present
situation would only tend to reinforce that
belief."
  "We might stall the Briamosites for an hour
or so now, Mr. Spock." Kirk-sulu looked
thoughtful. "We have to. We're going to need that hour
to give ourselves a crash course in each other. But for
several days? No, never." He walked over
to confront his own body.
  "Lieutenant Uhura?"
  "Yes, sir," his own voice, but an oddly
higher tenor, responded promptly.
  "You are going to have to become me. At least, you're
going to have to well enough to fool the Briamosites and the
Klingons. At least our voices weren't switched.
You're speaking with my vocal cords and my lungs.
You've served as acting captain several times. This
is another of those times, only you're going to have to be
more than just acting captain. You're going to have to be
Acting Captain James T. Kirk."
  "I'll do my best . . . Lieutenant," she
replied. Both of them smiled.
  It was good to see himself looking so confident, Kirk
thought a little crazily. He still felt as if he were
talking in a dream. Any minute now they would all
wake up, back in their own bodies, ready for the
conference[*thorn] everything all right again.
  Then he realized his exuberance might be due in
  STAR TREK BOG TBN 189
  part to the fact that he was in a more youthful,
responsive body. They would have to watch for subtle
as well as blatant differences like that during the
conference.
  "We're all going to have to exercise some to get
used to our new bodies," he went on. "Our
strides, as Lieutenant Uhura has pointed out,
are
  different now. So are our reaches. I can't have
myself, meaning you, Lieutenant Uhura, reach for a
stylus only to miss it and clutch empty air. Enough
errors of that sort and sooner or later the Klingons
would catch on that something's
  definitely wrong with us. Once that happened, they
would find ways to take advantage of us, to our
detriment regarding the Briamosites."
  He turned to Spock's watching form. "As for you,
Lieutenant Sulu, you're going to have to talk like a
Vulcan, think like a Vulcan, act like a
Vulcan."
  "I'll manage somehow, sir," Sulu-spock
replied calmly. "I mean," and he seemed to stand
a little straighter, "I will endeavor
to execute my assignment to the best of my
abilities, Captain."
  "There is no need to overdo it, Lieutenant,"
cautioned Spock-uhura mildly.
  "Let's move to the main briefing room,"
Kirk-sulu instructed them. "We'll work on our
individual acclimatizing there." He turned
to regard the watching McCoy and Scott.
"Scatty, you get to work on that panel." He
indicated the tiny board which had caused all the
trouble.
  "Requisition all the technical assistance you
need."
  "Aye, Captain. Maybe we'll get
lucky." There was more enthusiasm in his voice than in
his thoughts.
  Kirk-sulu's gaze shifted. "Bones?"
  "Yes, Jim."
  "What kinds of side effects can we expect
to encounter from now on?"
  "Besides the obvious ones of getting used to a
strange body, Jim, of walking easily and reaching
normally and other physical activities, there may
be mental shifts of the kind Mr. Spock just
experienced." He looked helpless. "I
can't predict what else might happen."
  "I know that, Bones, but speculate the best you
can."
  190 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  The Enterprise's chief physician thought a
moment, aware of concerned eyes on him, eyes that were
slightly haunted. "You personally shouldn't have too
much trouble, Jim. You're in a human male body
not greatly different from your own. You might have
to concentrate on restraining yourself in certain
situations."
  "Restraining myself how, Bones?"
  "You're operating a considerably . . . well,
not considerably," he hurriedly corrected himself,
"but younger body than the one you're used to. It will
react faster, move more rapidly than your
own[*thorngg'z excellently conditioned as that one
is.
  "You already brought up reaching for
  something and coming up short. It works both ways. You
have to be careful not to reach for something in a hurry. Your
hands are liable to get there before your mind thinks they will.
You could hurt or at least embarrass yourself."
  "What else?"
  "Listen. I think you can all cope with the
physical changes," McCoy said convincingly.
"It's the other problems that worry me. Your mind,
Jim. How do you feel mentally! Can you
  remember everything?"
  "Everything I try to," Kirk-sulu informed
him.
  McCoy looked pleased. "Then the personality
transfer extends to full memory as well. That
should make things easier. You'll have it easiest of
all, Jim."
  "What about the others?"
  McCoy walked over, confronted Spock's
body. "Lieutenant Sulul"
  "Yes, sire"
  "I wish I had some practical advice
to give you, but I don't. How do you feels"
  "A little funny, Doctor. But it's not
  overpowering me. I can handle it." He frowned,
then hastily wiped the expression from his face. "I
just feel generally . . . well, not depressed,
exactly. But dull[*thorngg'z if, as if I
can't get excited or sad about anything. It's not that
the laughter isn't in me. It's there, in my mind.
But . . . for instance, I was trying to think of something
funny to say just now, when you spoke about
retaining our memories. I thought of an old joke
that applies, and
  STAR TREK TBN 191
  it's one that usually breaks me up. I
recognized the humor in it, recognized it's as
funny as ever, but . . . I couldn't laugh."
  "Vulcan control," said McCoy, without a
trace of a smile. "Try, Sulu. Think of the
joke again. I want to make certain your own mind
isn't in danger of being submerged in something alien you
can't handle. See if you can consciously override the
endocrinal suppression."
  Sulu struggled with himself. Then a faint smile
appeared on the face of Mr. Spock. It widened
slightly, and the first officer laughed. It was a little
forced, but a laugh nonetheless.
  "Please don't do it again, Lieutenant,"
Spock-uhura requested. "The unnatural sight
makes me ill."
  "I don't think he will, Spock,"
Kirk-sulu told his first officer. "Bones, does
that convince you that Sulu will keep control of his
thoughts?"
  McCoy nodded.
  "Good. From now on, Lieutenant
Sulu, you're going to be a model Vulcan,
aren't you?"
  Sulu-spock nodded, once. "As phlegmatic
and poker-faced as possible, sir."
  Spock said nothing. McCoy turned, walked
over to confront Uhura's form. He had
to consciously lower his gaze, so used was he to staring up
at the first officer.
  "And what about you, Spock? How are you cop-
ing?"
  "Adequately, Doctor," came the lilting
response from Spock-uhura. "But some of the
sensations I am experiencing are truly remarkable.
It is an intriguing experience, one filled with
ample opportunities for discovery. But I fear
I may experience some physical difficulties,
contrary to your primary concern over our mental
reactions. My thoughts are reasonably lucid, my
control over them seems firm. But this physical
configuration is sufficiently, radically different from
my natural self. I'm afraid I find it a
bit clumsy."
  "Clumsy?" Uhura-kirk looked upset.
"What do you mean, 'clumsy," Mr. Spock?"
  "No offence is intended, Lieutenant.
It is clumsy only to me. For example, I
find that I must cope with a
  192 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  considerably different and to me not especially
efficient distribution of mass. It's a question of
leverage and muscular control. I do not think I could
ever master it, but I believe I will' with
practice, be able to manage
  "Speaking of distribution of mass . . ."
  Uhura-kirk began accusingly.
  "That's enough, Lieutenant," Kirk-sulu said
sharply. "You're not reacting the way I would, are
you? You're the captain now. Don't forget it."
  Kirk's face assumed an expression of
  embarrassment. "Sorry, sir. I forgot myself,
for a moment."
  "If it helps," Kirk-sulu added with a grin,
"consider your predicament a temporary
  promotion."
  "If this is what I have to go through to make captain
someday," Uhura-kirk replied with a shy little
smile, "I think I'd just as soon stay in
communications. Don't worry, sir," she finished
briskly. "I'll make an efficient you."
  "I'm sure you will, Lieutenant.
Neither Kumara nor his staff knows us well enough
to recognize personal idiosyncrasies, so your
imitations won't have to be letter-perfect. The way I
sometimes rest my chin on one hand when I'm thinking, for
example." Uhura-kirk promptly placed her
chin on her right hand and looked pensive. "Or the
way Mr. Spock raises his eyebrows when something
surprises or especially interests him."
Sulu-spock promptly lifted both brows and
assumed a
  distinctly supercilious look.
  Kirk sounded pleased. "That's the idea,
Lieutenant. Only keep Mr. Spock's
comments in mind and don't overdo it. Better to act
like a humanlike Vulcan as opposed to a
caricature." He hesitated, then went on.
"It'll be best all around for us to keep
everything[*thorngg'our words, our
  movements, everything[*thorngg'z simple and
brief as possible. That will help to minimize
opportunities for error. Opportunities the
Klingons can only turn to their advantage.
Let's go."
  He turned and headed for the turbolift, walking
carefully and working to adjust his pace
to Sulu's slightly different way of walking.
  "Bones," he said, glancing back at
McCoy, "if you
  STAR TREKBN 193
  can think of anything else we ought to watch for, let
us know in the briefing room. And, Scotty, no
matter where we are, even if we're down on
Briamos and in conference, you get in touch with
me[*thorngg'meaning Lieutenant
Sulu[*thorngg'the instant you've corrected the
transporter and are ready to try switching us
back."
  "Aye, Captain, you can be sure I'll do that.
Even if it means insultin' our sensitive friends the
Briamosites."
  Moving dike a quartet of drunken ensigns on
leave, the four officers entered the turbolift. When
the doors had closed behind them and the telltale
alongside indicated the car was moving on its way,
Scott turned his attention from the wavicle
rectifier to the introspective Dr. McCoy.
  "Did you mean what you said, Doctor, about them
being able to handle their transposition?"
  "I didn't see any reason to be overly
pessimistic, Scotty." He looked
concerned. "But I don't know, I just don't know .
. . There are several psychology tapes I've
got to run through. In case any problems do arise,
I want to be prepared to treat them as best I can.
Let's just say," and he gestured at the little
rectangle of complex circuitry Scott was
holding so carefully, "that the best thing for them would be
to fix the transporter and put an of them back in
their own bodies." He turned, his gaze traveling
to the turbolift doors behind which his fellow
officers[*thorngg'and frs[*thorngg'had departed.
"Dual-personality delusions are easily
treatable, Mr. Scott, but when there's a
physical as well as mental basis for a
psychosis, then I can't help but worry . . ."
  Neither officer said another word. McCoy led
Chapel and the rest of the murmuring medical team into the
returned turbolift. Scott turned to the
second engineer standing expectancy nearby. He
held the almost-dry circuit panel up to the light,
turned it slowly over in his hands, tilting it this way
and that. Then he lowered it, and sighed.
  "Dastagir, tell Loupas and Krensky we've
got a little job to do. Tell them I'll be right there
to detail what's got to be done. Tell
them to forget about their off-time. No one in
Fngineering's going off-time until this cursed piece
of electronic guts is turned right-side up
again."
  194 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  "Yes, sir." Second Engineer Dastagir
moved to the intercom to relay the chief engineer's
instructions. Scott moved toward the
  turboliftdoors.
  And far below, the anxious Briamosites listened
unhappily to the asked-for hour delay and wondered
about the courtesy of their maybe-allies of the Federation
. . .
  XIV
  Nearly an hour later the frenetic discussions
filling the main briefing room were interrupted by an
apologetic beep from the room intercom.
Kirk-sulu moved to the desk, thumbed the
  receiver switch and acknowledged the call.
  "Yes, what is it?"
  "Mrr. Sulu, I[*thorngg'Oh, I'm
sorrry, Captain. We werre told and it was all
explained forr us, but[*thorn]"
  "Never mind, Lieutenant M'ress,"
Kirk-sulu told her. "No need to be
embarrassed. Sometimes I get confused myself as to who
I am now. It's hard enough for us to cope here." [le
looked back into the room at the three familiar and
yet not familiar forms, all discussing matters of
great import among themselves. "I'm not sure any of
us are easy at mind. That's our problem, not yours.
We have to convince the Klingons and the
  Briamosites, not our fellow officers."."
  "That's what I'm calling about, sirr," the
communications officer purred. "We just
  rrcvd communication from below. I spoke with that
Colonel-Grreeterr Pliverr, the
  Briamosite liaison? He was concerrned that
ourr delegation had not beamed-down yet."
  "Concerned or angry, Lieutenant?"
Kirk-sulu asked.
  "My imprression was of a perrson willing
to extend concessions, sirr, but at the point of losing
patience."
  Kirk checked his, or rather Sulu's, wrist
chronometer. "We still have a few minutes, according to the
extension the Briamosites granted us, but Pliver
has our interests in mind by reminding us,
Lieutenant. Contact
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 195
  Pliver and inform him we're on our way to the
transporter room and should be greeting him in person
in a very few minutes."
  "Yes, sirr. Brridge out."
  Kirk clicked off, called for attention. The
discussion ceased and the other three looked at him
expectantly. "We're out of time. Mr.
Spock."
  Sulu-spock nodded. "Lieutenant Uhura."
  Spock-uhura smiled . . . weakly.
"Captain Kirk?" Uhura-kirk said, "I'm
ready, Lieutenant."
  Kirk-sulu looked grimly satisfied.
"Let's go to the masquerade, then." He led the
way to the door and they left the briefing room.
  Kirk-sulu and Spock-ubura stopped in the
hallway. The other two officers did likewise.
There was an uncomfortable pause. Then
  Uhura-kirk muttered, "Oh," turned down the
hall, and started for the turbolift. Sulu-spock
fell in alongside her, his stride natural and
seemingly unaffected. The two "lieutenants," as
was proper, followed.
  "That's better, Ueutenant Uhura,"
Kirk-sulu told her. "How are you
handling me?"
  "All right so far, sir," Uhura-kirk
replied. Kirk still felt he was listening to an echo
everytime she spoke with his voice, his lips. "But it
seems a little more difficult to concentrate." They
entered the turbolift. "It's fighting the tendency of
my body to pull me one way, when my mind tells
it to behave another. The hormone differences, I
think. I keep feeling emotions that I know are
unnatural . . . but for this body, theire perfectly
natural."
  "Your mind," Spock-uhura told her, "is
battling the captain's instincts. We will have to be on
constant alert against doing anything without thinking first.
One of us could be in full mental control over our
present bodies, but while thinking of something else that
body might react naturally, producing an
awkward situation. This is a war with ourselves. We must
take care never to let down our vigilance."
  The turbolift deposited them near another of the
personnel transporters, on the opposite side
of the ship
  196 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  from the damaged one. Scott awaited them there.
He had left reconstruction of the
critical panel to his subordinates long enough
to handle the beam-down of the captain and the others
  personally, this time.
  Uhura-kirk marched over to the console, said
firmly, "All right, Scotty, we're ready for
beam-down."
  "Very good, Captain. I[*thorn]" Scott
stopped, startled, to stare in disbelief at the
captain's face. "Are you[*thorn]?"
  "No, Scotty, I'm still over here, where you
left me." Kirk-sulu gestured with a hand.
"You're speaking to Lieutenant Uhura."
  "What do you think, Mr. Scott?"
Uhura-kirk asked hopefully in the captain's
familiar voice.
  "I think," a dazed Scott muttered, "You'd
better get that wavicle rectifier fixed in a
hurry or there won't be a sane person left
aboard this ship." He waved an arm weakly. "Go
ahead, I'm ready."
  The four officers moved away from the console and
took their places in the transporter alcove.
  "Is there a possibility, Mr. Scott,"
wondered Spockubura, "that we could be
reintegrated into our proper forms when we
emerge on Briamos?"
  Scott shook his head slowly. 'ally seriously
doubt it, Lieu[*thorngg'Mr. Spock.
There's no question that in order to return you all to your
own bodies you have to be reassembled through the altered
path of the original rectifier. But if it means
anythin"," he added, "I hope I'm wrong,
Mr. Spock, and you're right."
  "We can hope," Kirk-sulu murmured as the
chief engineer energized the transporter.
  "I hope you set down in a nice, quiet
chamber somewhere where initial observation will be by as few
Briamosites as possible, Captain," Scott
said. Kirk barely had time to nod Sulu's head as
the transporter took effect.
  He felt the usual disorientation, the blurring of
vision and thought. It was joined by an
  unexpected sense of fear. But it passed, and
along with it Kirk's momentary worry that their
experience had given them all a phobia against using
transporters.
  They rematerialized on the surface of
Briamos. Kirk started to slump, caught
hmf[*thorngg'and stood erect more
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 197
  rapidly than he normally would have. Since he
had been learning the past hour to compensate for a
strange body, handling the slightly higher gravity
of Briamos was easy. He saw the others adjust
with equal swiftness.
  Sadly, Spock did not get his wish.
Unspoken ex- changes between him and his companions
  indicated that they were still firmly ensconced in the
wrong bodies.
  Nor was the chief engineer's hope fulfilled.
Instead of the nice, quiet reception room they had
all hoped for, they found themselves standing on a tall
reviewing stand covered with a green canopy and lined with
pennants and banners, facing four tall,
attenuated Briamosites, whose slimness was
accentuated by their attire, making them resemble more
than ever animated scarecrows.
  All four aliens were elegantly clad in bright
emerald uniforms. Red striping sliced across the lower
third of both jacket and pants legs. They
wore, male and female alike, decorative
tiara crowns. Each of these was cocked at a
different but rakish angle on their high skulls, and
sparkled with multicoloredcabochons of different
stones. Whether the tiaras were a badge of
office, a sign of rank, or simply an
article of clothing Kirk couldn't decide.
  Less attractive by far were the five figures
standing on the other side of the Briamosites.
Captain Kumara was flanked by four of his own
officers.. They wore their own dress uniforms and were
a blaze of barbaric design and colon Perhaps they
were more colorful, Kirk mused, but they were certainly
less dignified, even a bit childish. Whether
they would appear so to the Briamosites, of course,
was another matter.
  Kumara made a Klingon sign of greeting,
smiled slightly at Uhura-kirk. "Greetings
to you, Jim. We were worried that you wouldn't be able
to join us."
  "Hello, Kumara," Uhura-kirk said, even
as Kirk caught himself. He had almost replied to the
greeting. The transition from the familiar surroundings
of the Enterprise to this vast open plain and reviewing
stand had been abrupt enough to unbalance his carefully
prepared Sulu-image. He had spent so much time
helm
  198 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  ingUhura learn to act like himself that he'd nearly
slipped up. Fortunately, Uhura was
prepared, and she'd handled herself well already.
  "In fact," she added, "I was worried about how
depressed you'd become if we didn't arrive.
You are sure you're feeling all right?"
  Kumara responded with a tight-lipped little
smile.
  Kirk felt a surge of elation inside.
Kumara showed absolutely no suspicion that
anything was wrong. They just might carry the incredible
impersonations off[*thorngg'if their luck held.
  "Greetings to you, Captain Kirk." Kirk
  recogmzed the by-now-familiar face of
  Colonel-Greeter Pliver as the tall
Briamosite moved to gesture at Uhura-kirk.
"Sorry are we for whatever problem delayed you from
arriving at the appointed time, and certain am I that it
will not so trouble you again."
  This was a veiled warning about punctuality, Kirk
knew, which they'd better heed. They had already
presumed on the Briamosites' version of
courtesy once. Another such request would push them
into the poorly understood realm of local insult.
  "We had some trouble with one of our
  transporters," Uhura-kirk explained
truthfully, without going into details.
"I'm sure it won't happen again. Our delay
bothered us as much as it did you,
Colonel-Greeter. If there's one thing I can't
stand it is people who can't keep their appointments."
  A derisive snort sounded. It came from the
knot of Klingon officers around Kumara.
  "It's not," Uhura-kirk went on, "that we had
any desire to minimize the pleasure of your
company, you understand. It was only that our transporter
operator disobeyed orders. He was reluctant
to indict the distasteful company of certain others on
us. The person's intentions were worthy, but his
insubordination could not be tolerated." She glanced
toward the Klingons and made a face. Kirk was
amazed at how disgusted he could look when he wanted
to.
  Her insinuations struck home. One of the Klingon
officers bridled at the hidden insult, but was
restrained by a dour Kumara. A tall
  Briamosite standing behind
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 199
  Pliver made a small muffled sound that Kirk
took to be local laughter. He forced himself to keep
from smiling. Uhura's story had not only
  explained away their hourlong delay, it
had apparently made them the first winners in the
exchange of greetings. Of such tiny asides were
powerful alliances forged.
  "This is Sarvus, Leader of all the
Briamosite systems, final arbiter of
multiple-world decisions."
  Pliver introduced them to the elegantly
appointed, two-and-onehalf-meter-tall
Briamosite who had stifled his laughter at
Uhura-kirk's comment. "And Vice-Leader
Chellea," Pliver continued, indicating the tallest
member of the naturally towering alien delegation.
  Leader Sarvus stepped forward, leaned like a
willow to his right. His right arm curved downward
to slap lightly against his slim right thigh.
  "Pleasure in making your acquaintance," said
Uhura-kirk. Kirk watched as his own body
  imitated the formal Briamosite
bow-and-greeting, arm hooking down, back of the hand
rapping the thigh. Uhura had gained considerable command
of Kirk's musculature by now and she performed the
subtly difficult movement with admirable
smoothness.
  Kirk started to relax just a little. Inspection showed
that Kumara and his companions still suspected
nothing. He found himself really believing that they just
might be able to bring off the masquerade.
  Uhura-kirk turned to face him and Kirk forced
Sulu's body into an attitude of attention.
"My executive officer, Mr. Spock."
Sulu-spock stepped forward, nodded slightly in
typically perfunctory Vulcan fashion, and said
nothing. That was just as well, and in accordance with their
plans prior to beam-down.
  Uhura, occupying Kirk's body, would be forced
to do a lot of talking. But there was no reason why the
rest of them couldn't remain as quiet as possible.
The less they said, the fewer the opportunities for
making a fatal mistake.
  "My helmsman, Lieutenant Sulu,"
Uhura-kirk went on. Kirk stepped forward,
felt his strange body bow respectfully. "And
communications chief, Lieutenant Uhura."
Spock manipulated Uhura's body, stepping
  200 STAR TREK BOG TEN
  forward to bow and in the process nearly falling
over. Clearly he still hadn't quite mastered the
intricacies of feminine musculature,
particularly chat of Lieutenant Uhura, which would
require more adjustment to handle than the
average female form.
  He caught himself, dropping to one knee and then
rising hastily before falling flat on his face.
Kirk forced himself not to move. Instead, he watched
for the expected reaction among Uhe
Klingons[*thorngg'and got a pleasant
surprise. None of Hem were looking in his
direction. They were chattering sofay among themselves and
hadn't noticed Spock's slip.
  But why should they be paying attention? Kirk
reminded himself. Uhura and Sulu were only
subordinate officers, hardly worthy of notice.
Kirk and Spock had already been introduced.
Kumara was looking over a shoulder and conversing with one
of his aides. Maybe their present situation would have
more advantages Han disadvantages, Kirk
mused. He and Spock could observe the Klingons
closely, washout being subjected to similar
attention. Kumara and his associates would be watching
their original bodies, now inhabited by Sulu and
Uhura.
  He tried to overhear their whispered
  conversation, and failed. It didn't seem
important, Though. One of the officers was smiling the
particularly unhumorous Klingon smile.
Certainly Here was no sign Hey regarded
Spock-uhura's slip as anything odder Uhan a
simple stumble.
  Nor did the near fall appear to have bothered the
Briamosites. Perhaps Hey weren't quite as
sensitive as Kirk had been led to believe.
  "Leader Sarvus will now speak," announced
ColonelGreeter Pliver portentously. This was
Uhe signal for Klingon and Federation officers
alike to forgo Their own conversations and stand
  attentively.
  The Briamosite leader withdrew a small book
from one breast pocket, opened it to the first page, and
began to read. The speech was long, but He pages
turned quickly. It was a carefully worded, Thoughtfully
prepared speech. It
  expressed feelings of friendship for bodh Uhe
Federation and Klingon peoples, declared a
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 201
  desire for extensive future relations of
mutual benefit, and promised not so much as a grain
of sand to either side in return for concessions and
benefits the Briamosites were seeking for themselves.
  Clearly the local precepts of diplomacy were
as fully evolved as Briamosite
technology. They were in no hurry to join either the
Federation or Klingon, and it would take considerable
persuasion to change their minds. Nor could they be
fooled. But Kirk knew that the pressures both
sides were bringing to bear on Briamos to join one
side or the other would eventually force them to do so.
  The Leader finished, closed the back of the tiny
book. There was silence. The Briamosites
  appeared to be waiting for something. Uhura-kirk
turned, glanced back helplessly at Kirk, which was
a mistake, though it would probably have been worse
for all of them to continue facing each other quietly,
grinning like idiots.
  Kirk knew what should be said. "Yes, sir, a
wonderful feeling which we would greet our hosts with in
kind," he murmured expressionlessly. Uhura
recovered quickly, turned and repeated what the
captain had just said, in somewhat different words so that it
wouldn't smack of an echo.
  But the damage had been done. As Uhura-kirk
spoke, Kirk saw Kumara eyeing the "captain"
uncertainly. Kirk began to sweat, though it did not
show.
  "And so we thank you for your magnificent wel-
come, Sarvus of Briamos,"
Uhura-kirk was saying. Kirk felt the words
sounded a little stilted, but he doubted the
Briamosites would notice. "We extend to all
of Briamos and its sister worlds the best wishes and
hopes of the United Federation of Planets. I,
too, hope that our future dealings may always be this
pleasant, enjoyable, and relaxed, and that together we
may continue as equals to extend civilization a
bit farther into the galaxy."
  Kirk let out an internal sigh. Uhura had
remembered all the speech, once he, as Sulu,
had jogged her memory. He'd kept the formal
reply purposefully short, eliminating many
flowery phrases the psychodiplomats at
Starfleet Command had thought would appeal to
  202 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  their hosts. The couple of sentences were
enough[*thorngg'and Uhura had still almost forgotten them
entirely.
  The Briamosite officials appeared
satisfied, though, despite the brevity of
Uhura-kirk's response. As she had recited
the speech, Kirk had seen the initially suspicious
Kumara relax and lose his puzzled expression.
But . . . it had been a near thing.
  His worst suspicions were confirmed as soon as
Uhura finished. Kumara was always more
  dangerous when relaxed. "It looks like you're not
feeling too well, Jim," he murmured to
  Uhura-kirk. "A bit nenous, perhaps?"
  "As a matter of fact," Uhura-kirk
replied quickly, "my big problem is that I might
be too relaxed, Kumara. I don't have anything
to be nenous about . . . unlike some people I kr
tilde ow."
  The speed of her response was good, but the wording
sounded a touch bitchy to Kirk, and was hardly the way
he would have replied. But it seemed to sense where it
counted most, among the Briamosites. They sensed
strength instead of Kumara's implied uncertainty.
Fortunately, Kumara didn't have a chance to follow
up his initial accusation, or he might have succeeded
in rattling Uhura.
  Colonel-Greeter Pliver stepped physically
and verbally between Kumara and Uhura-kirk. "We have
prepared a parade somewhat. We call them something
else, but "parade" will seine. This is our way of
displaying for you, Captain Kirk and Kumara
Captain, part of our culture in a way we hope
is entertaining to you all." He waggled his
ears, and Kirk recognized the Briamosite
version of a chuckle.
  "If paraders seem they especially happy, is
not because they are glad to see you necessarily. For
purposes of parading, today was declared local
metropolitan holiday so paraders could take off
workings to participate. Are being compensated for not
working."
  Uhura-kirk nodded slightly. That was the
correct response. Kirk was permitted the
luxury of smiling, although it was with Lieutenant
Sulu's face.
  Every time the Briamosites hinted at their sense of
humor, Kirk was elated. It was one area where the
  STAR TREK LOG 203
  Klingons couldn't hope to compete, lacking much of
any kind of humor other than the sadistic.
However, he cautioned himself, the grin fading, it would be
better not to count on the aliens reacting in any
predictable fashion until the conference got underway
and he had a chance to see how their hosts reacted
to serious matters.
  A great fanfare of brassy but bizarre music
rolled across the grassy sward in front of the
reviewing stand they stood on. It sounded
hke violins and organs competing with damp
bagpipes. At a signal from Pliver, the
visitors followed the Briamosite leaders out from
under the concealing canopy. Kirk took in their
surroundings.
  The metal-and-wood reviewing stand was
  nothing extraordinary, a simple construction
designed to be functional rather than impressive.
Across the open green-blue field Kirk saw
spires, lofty and attenuated like the Briamosites
themselves, rising from the distant resort town where the
conference hall was located. A curving slice of
deep azure, hke a blue plate viewed almost
edge-on, showed where the ocean of the northern
hemisphere backed onto the town.
  The fanfare became a rather dizzy march.
Variously dressed ranks and clusters of
  well-organized Briamosites strode back
and forth in front of the parade stand. Their long limbs
swung supplely as they walked.
  The four Briamosite leaders beamed
approvingly as each new group appeared. Uhura,
using Kirk's body, dutifully tried to mimic
their appreciation. It wasn't easy. Nothing was
spectacular about the parade, though the
Briamosites appeared to feel otherwise.
  After the parade had run for half an hour and there
was still no end in sight to the flag-waving, uniformed
ranks before them, the inflexible Klingons were beginning
to twitch noticeably. Kirk knew that the sight of
"inferior" beings passing in seemingly unending waves
before them was
  enough to crack even Klingon selfcontrol. One
officer snapped at another who was crowding him too
closely, and only a harsh, single word whispered
by Kumara kept them from fighting on the stand.
  The parade continued for another two hours. By
  204 STAR TREK TEN
  then Kirk could almost feel sympathy for Kumara,
who looked about ready to scream. When the last rank
of marchers had faded across the plain, the final banner
receded into the distance, Leader Sarvus turned to both
visiting captains. He wore a blank
expression but his ears fidgeted happily, the
Briamosite version of a politician who has just
surveyed his constituents and seen a healthy majority
of favorable votes.
  "Gentlesirs, what think you? You have just seen
forty-five (untranslatable noun) representing
all the continents of the several worlds of the
United Systems of Briamos."
  "Very impressive," Kumara lied quickly, always
first to flatter.
  "Very much so," said Spock-uhura, "I wish
only we could see it over again."
  The comment produced pleased fluttering from the ears
of the four Briamosite officials.. It engendered
the exact opposite reaction from Kumara and his
cohorts. The prospect of sifting through a repeat
of the just-endured parade was almost more than they could bear.
  Nevertheless, it gave Kumara an opportunity
to display his remarkably un-Klingonlike
diplomacy. "We also would enjoy a repeat," he
said with a perfectly straight face, "but too much
pleasure in a single day dulls one's mind for more
serious endeavors. Hopefully another day."
  "No doubt you are right," an impressed Leader
Sarvus admitted. "Until tomorrow, then, at the
conference hall within the town, at the appointed time. You
will transporter coordinates for the conference place be
given."
  One of the Klingons stepped forward to huddle with
Colonel-Greeter Pliver. After a moment's
hesitation, too brief to cause comment,
Kirk-sulu moved to join them to record the
coordinates.
  "These will bring you down by the lakeshore, in the
chamber itself within the building," Pliver told them after
they had both noted the series of numbers that would
tell their respective
  transporter computers where to set them down. "The
structure itself is not an official
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 205
  one, but part of a large recreational complex, so your
surroundings may a bit informal seem."
  "We are looking forward," Leader Sarvus was
saying to Kumara and Uhura-kirk, "to hearing the
arguments and persuasions of both your
  governments." For a moment the supreme leader of the
Briamosite peoples looked troubled.
"Actually we do not seek an alliance so soon, but
external considerations seem to be forcing us
inexorably in that direction. I need hardly tell
you both," he cautioned more firmly, looking at each
captain in turn, "to present the strongest argu-
ments you can muster. The Council of Greater
Briamos will base its decision on the evidence you
present to us in these coming few days. Once concluded,
we of Briamos will abide permanently by that
decision."
  "All of us are looking forward to the first session,"
said Sulu-spock.
  "Until tomorrow-time, then," murmured
  Uhura-kirk softly.
  "Yes, until tomorrow." Kumara responded now
to one of his officers, who called for him to move
aside so they could be transported up to their ship.
Unable to resist a last stab, Kumara half
smiled at Uhura-kirk. "We are in a hurry
to return to our ship so that we may supervise
maintenance procedures, Jim. That is a function
treated with notorious sloppiness in the Federation, a
characteristic of most Federation
activities[*thorngg'z anyone can tell
by looking at the Enterprise."
  "Our damages would not have been incurred,"
Uhura-kirk responded loudly, for the benefit of
attentive Briamosite officials as much as for
Kumara's ears, "despite interference with
navigational beacons, if we hadn't been so
involved with the recent recovery of an interesting
artifact. An artifact," she said, directing her
words now to the Briamosite leader Sarvus, "which we
will present for your edification and inspection during the
conference, sir."
  Kumara looked dubious and curious all at
once. "What sort of artifact?" But
Uhura-kirk didn't get the opportunity
to reply.
  The Leader was speaking. "We not really are
interested in archeological matters right now,
Captain Kirk.
  206 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  There are far more important matters to be dealt
with."
  "I believe you'll be interested in this artifact,"
Uhura-kirk insisted. "It is, in a way, part of
our presentation. A means of showing you the
  thoroughness with which we of the United
  Federation explore our own worlds and those around us.
The artifact will not take up much space, and will be
an interesting diversion to all attending the conference."
She noticed the Klingons staring at Kirk's
body. "You should find it interesting also, Captain
Kumara."
  The Klingon commander looked interested in spite of
his attempts to appear otherwise. What sort of
trick did Kirk have up his braided sleeves this
timed Why haul an old bottle or some such
relic into as critically balanced a conference
as this one?
  Kirk-sulu noted the effect of Uhura's words
on the Klingon captain, but didn't smile. They
had already gotten something out of the Slaver stasis box,
and without even having to display it. Kumara was worried
about the mysterious
  artifact. Good! The more it troubled him, the less
ordered his dangerously fertile mind would be, and the
fewer opportunities for creating mischief of his
own he would have.
  "As you say, Jim," the Klingon finally finished
lamely.
  Kirk-sulu watched with his companions while the
four Klingons dissolved, taking with them a Kumara so
rattled that he had forgotten that by leaving now, Kirk
would have the last word with their hosts.
  True to her training, Uhura didn't waste the
chance. "You must excuse our friends the
  Klingons," she said. "Anything new and alien
to their own culture makes them uneasy."
  There, that was a suitably neutral statement, but
one loaded with overtones they would begin to work on the
Briamosites' minds after this day was done.
  They were ready to beam-up. Kirk almost pulled out
his own communicator. Fortunately,
Sulu-spock reacted fast and did the same a
step ahead of him.
  "Mr. Scott?" Sulu-spock said into his
pickup.
  STAR TREK L tilde TEN 207
  "Yes . . . Mr. Spock." Scott's
response was broken by an infinitesimal pause.
  "You may beam us aboard," Sulu-spock
  informed the distant chief matter-of-factly. "I
have new coordinates to program in for our
  beam-down tomorrow."
  "Very good, Mr. Spock. Standing by."
  "Tm[*thorngg'with expectations of benign
  developments," Colonel-Greeter Pliver
told them with that odd little sideways bow of the
  Briamosites. His words and attitude were as
warm as official neutrality permitted, but Kirk
felt confident that the Greeter was on their side.
  However, he reminded himself, it was not Pliver's
vote that counted, but those of the three distinguished aliens
conversing in low tones behind him.
  XV
  Somewhere elseness became the norm for a moment or
two. Then they were greeted by the familiar surroundings
of Transporter Room 3. A smiling
chief engineer rushed around toward them from behind the
transporter console as soon as the four had fully
coalesced.
  He went straight toward Kirk's body.
"Captain?" His voice was hopeful, hesitant.
  "Sorry, Scotty," Kirk had to say.
Scott looked over at Sulu's shape, where the
words had been generated. "I'm still in Mr.
Sulu's body. All four of us are still switched
around."
  Scott fought hard not to look disappointed. "I
tried a couple of little things, sir, with the console
levels. As much as I could without risk of makin'
things worse." He shrugged. "It was an
  unreasonable hope."
  They stepped down out of the alcove, walked over
toward the turbolift doors. Scott stopped
to gaze longingly at the transporter.
  "We're still workin' on the original damaged
rectifier, Captain," he informed them. "I've
also been
  208 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  workin' with the computer, on Mr. Sulu's
  suggestion that we use your original recorded
patterns to beam you out and then back
  in[*thorngg'hopefully back in your proper
bodies." He shook his head sadly. "I still
don't think it'll work, Mr. Sulu." He
directed his words to Spock's watching form, where the
helmsman's mind was still housed. "But if the
realigned rectifier should fail for some reason, then
we'll have no choice but to try it anyway.
  "Still, I'm afraid that if I send you all out and
bring you back, and you're still not correctly
reintegrated, you might never be able to get your own
bodies back. Overlapping pattern fixation on the
false patterns you're now using would prohibit ever
reversin' the situation."
  "We'll try it as a last resort only then,
Scotty," Kirk-sulu agreed.
  "I hope we dinna have to, Captain," the
chief engineer told him. "You might all end up
frozen in these bodies for the rest of your natural
lives."
  Spock-uhura glanced down at himself, at the
body of the communications chief. "The prospect of
remaining forever locked in this form is indeed appalling,
Mr. Scott."
  "I'm not thrilled about it either, Mr. Spock,"
Uhura-kirk told him firmly. "I'd
like nothing better than to, to repossess my own
body." Her hands gestured at herself. "The
chemical balance of this male envelope initiates
some of the most absurd reactions."
  "We'll all be glad when"[*thorngg'he was
careful not to say "if"[*thorn)'"...we're back
where we belong,
  Lieutenant," Kirk assured her soothingly.
"Keep us posted on progress with the rectifier,
Scotty. Oh, how's the stasis box coming along?
We'll probably take it down with us tomorrow."
  Scott Divas glad of the chance to report some
good news. "All ready for you, Captain. It's
on the bridge. I couldn't put it in your cabin,"
he added a mite apologetically, "without forcin' the
door seal, and I didn't want to do that."
  "It's just as well, Scotty. There's nothing
to hide from the crew, and I don't think I can get
into my own
  STAR TREK LOG TBN 209
  cabin myself now. The voice and retinal patterns
that the door lock would recognizebelongto that
body," and he pointed at Uhura, "not to Mr.
Sulu's, where I'm presently residing. If I
need to get into my own cabin, Lieutenant
Uhura's going to have to come along."
  The four officers took the turbolift to the
bridge. Although everyone on board the Enterprise
had by now been thoroughly apprised of the quadruple
body switch[*thorngg'mind switch,
rather[*thorngg'x still took personnel encountering it
for the first time a few minutes to get used to addressing
Captain Kirk as Uhura and Sulu as Captain
Kirk, and so on.
  As Scott had promised, the stasis box was
waiting for them. It rested on a small stand next
to the left arm of the command chair. Kirk-sulu walked
over to it, and was joined by Spock-uhura. "It
certainly looks real enough, Captain," the first
officer said.
  Kirk had to admit that it did. Using Spock's
descriptions of the original box, the engineering
department had inserted something into the box which produced
an encapsulating blue aura. The top of the box
had been resealed by some exotic weldfill
technique, as much art as metallurgy, so that with his
face only tilde aeacentimeter away Kirk
couldn't see where the box had been opened.
  Reaching out, he picked it up, his hands feeling a
faint tingle from the false stasis field.
"I'm convinced, Spock. But will it fool the
Klingons?"
  "Even sensor equipment will produce
  information insisting that the aura," and Spock-uhura
indicated the box, "is a genuine Slaver field.
The Klingons will not be given an opportunity
to inspect the box closely. Fur- thermore,
Klingon has encountered only one stasis box in its
entire history of stellar exploration, and that was
several hundred years ago. They are not as
familiar with the artifacts as we are and so are
unlikely to know enough to expose the fraud."
  With that, the first officer resumed his position at the
science station. The ensign he replaced couldn't
help staring as he moved aside. He knew
Spock was taking over, but all he could see was
Uhura.
  This caused Kirk to look around the bridge. The
  210 STAR TREK roe
  captain was manning communications, and he, as
Sulu, was seated in the command chair while Spock was
serving as helmsman and Uhura was at the science
station. That view of the bridge would be certain to set
Kumara thinking. Instead, Kirk decided to give his
Klingon counterpart
  something else to dwell on.
  "Lieutenant Uhura."
  "Yes, Captain," she replied in his own
voice, from her position at communications.
  "If you pick up any transmissions from
  Kumara's ship, or from the surface, acknowledge
them but do so mechanically. Under no
  circumstances provide visual communication. And
if the Briamosites or Kumara desire to speak
to me, Lieutenant, you'll have to answer."
  "I understand, sir," she replied. Kirk
didn't think he could ever get used to conversing with
himself.
  So far everyone had performed admirably under
impossible circumstances. Uhura had played
Kirk reasonably well. It said something for the
camaraderie that normally existed on board that they could
imitate each other so efficiently.. Kirk had
to stay alert constantly, though, to make certain those
imitations never degenerated into caricature.
  They had succeeded in avoiding any serious
psychological problems. Those might still lie
ahead, he knew. Give the body's normal
  endocrine system long enough and it would begin to affect
the minds housed in unfamiliar
  surroundings. The sooner the conference below could be
concluded successfully, he knew, the better their
chances would be. Meanwhile, they could only remain
vigilant and hope Dr. McCoy's worries
found no basis in fact.
  Spock was walking back to his own cabin, musing
on the intriguing but distressing events that had left
him imprisoned in this cumbersome, awkward form.
Thus far he'd been able to repress anything
seriously upsetting. He could
imitate[*thorngg'z long as nothing terribly
drastic was
  required[*thorngg'human reactions. But he
was still very much himself.
  Before leaving for rest and recreation period, until
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 211
  they beamed-down tomorrow, an four of the officers had
gone over their personal needs with that other mind
inhabiting their natural bodies. All indication of
amusement absent from her voice, Lieutenant
Uhura had warned Spock above all not to forget
taking the several monthly capsules her system
required, which he would find in the dispensers in her
cabin. Spock assured her he would not.
  It was difficult enough to face the
possibility that he might have to live the remainder of
his life in this human body. He was not about to risk
getting it pregnant. Not that, he had hastened
to assure her, his own mind could in its wildest
moments conceive of permitting that to happen. But she made
him promise to take the
  supplement capsules nonetheless. Spock could have
quarreled with her on personal grounds. But since the
communications chief regarded the subject so
emotionally, he decided to humor her.
  He stopped. Someone was standing in his way. Spock
moved to go around him. The man, a tall ensign from
organic fabrication whom Spock didn't
recognize, moved to block his intended path.
  "In a hurry?" the ensign said, grinning in a
moronic fashion not becoming to a member of
Starfleet forces. He leaned on one hand against the
corridor wall.
  "If you will kindly let me pass," Spock said
with a touch of irritation.
  "Hey, now!" The man shifted to block
Spock's new attempt to walk around him. "I
know you're a superior officer and all, but I
didn't think you'd already forget about . . ."
  It suddenly occurred to Spock that
possibly all the crew, certainly not all those on
long sleep cycles, had learned of the transformation
of the four officers into different bodies. This
ensign's familiar attitude toward a superior
officer was decidedly unbecoming, but that was a matter
between him and Lieutenant Uhura, a matter in which
Spock had no particular desire to interfere.
  Fighting the peculiar hormone reaction all at
once surging through the body he
inhabited[*thorngg'a fight which required the most
vigorous
  application of mental disci
  212 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  pline[*thorngg'he tried to explain. "I am
not Lieutenant Uhura, Ensign."
  The man stared at Uhura's face, heard
Uhura's voice. His initial bravado turned
to confusion, puzzlement. When he spoke he sounded a
little hurt.
  "Now, what's this all about?" the ensign broke
into a wide grin. "You didn't always used to stand on
rank."
  Spock rushed on, hoping to spare this
  unfortunate individual any further
embarrassment. "There was a transporter
semifailure. It resulted in the transfer of the
minds of your captain, your executive officer, and
Lieutenants Sulu and Uhura into the wrong
bodies upon reintegration. That is the present
disturbing state of affairs. They will remain this way
until Engineer Scott can trace and correct the
trouble with the dam- aged transporter."
  "Oh, come on, Uhura! What are you feeding
me? You're Uhura . . . Lieutenant," he
added, a touch accusingly. "Tell me I don't
know how to recognize[*thorn]"
  "I happen to be Commander Spock," Uhura's
voice informed the ensign frostily. "Presently
I am inhabiting Lieutenant Uhura's body.
Lieutenant Uhura's mind is located in the
body of Captain Kirk. If you will take the time
to contact the bridge, or any of your fellow
shipmates who doubtless heard the announcement while
you did not, you will find that what I am telling you is
the truth."
  The ensign's face ran through a remarkable gamut
of expressions in a short time. "You're joking with
me, aren't you? This is some kind of game you're
playing." The man didn't sound as positive as
before. "Look, if it was something I
sd[*thorn]"
  "There's an intercom." Spock-ubura
indicated the grid-and-panel set into the corridor
wall. "Contact whomever you wish and check what I
say."
  "All right. All right, I will," the ensign
responded, with the air of one about to call a bluff.
"We'll call this joke off fast." He thumbed the
intercom.
  "Excuse me, is Yeoman Anderson there?" A
pause, during which the ensign smiled faintly and
Spockubura stood quietly waiting. "Yes,
  Anderson? This is
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 213
  Ensign Kearly. Hey, did something go wrong with
one of the transporters recently? I heard this
hysterical story that the captain, Mr. Spock
and[*thorn]"
  A strong female voice at the other end spoke
from the grid. "Yes. Don't you know about it,
Kearly? Damnedest thing . . . I guess you must
have been deep in sleep cycle. Seems that in
trying to beam down to Briamos there was some kind of
problem with the transporter. Rumor up from Engineering
says that it was caused by that pulsar wave we
ran through a while ago." The ensign's face, as
he listened to this, was drawn.
  "Anyway, it seems like everyone trying to beam
down got all shifted around, wrong mind in the wrong
body. It's hard to believe, I know, but I've
personally[*thorn]"
  "Never mind, Yeoman." Ensign Kearly
sounded a bit shaky. "I just wanted to confirm it."
He clicked off, turned to stare at IJ-HURA'S
form. He looked, and sounded, as if he were confronting
a ghost. "Then . . . you really are Commander
Spock?"
  The first officer replied as gently as he could.
Still, he was unable to keep all the irritation out of his
voice. "Believe me, Ensign Kearly, this
present situation is not more palatable to me than to you,
or to anyone else[*thorngg'least of all
Lieutenant Uhura."
  "Yes, ma'am[*thorngg'I mean, sir." The
ensign executed a hurried, harried salute,
excused himself, and moved rapidly away. Spock
was allowed to
  continue on uninterrupted, with ample time to consider
the peculiarities of human
  interrelationships.
  Spock's comment to the ensign about the
unpalatability of the present arrangement was an
understatement as far as Uhura was concerned.
Presently, the communications chief was resting in her
own cabin. A technician with special
  clearance had had to open it manually for her, since
Kirk's face and hands wouldn't key the door seal
any more than his tenor would substitute for her higher,
more delicate voice.
  Although the captain's body she was
  imprisoned in was in excellent condition, compared
to her own she found it awkward, clumsy, and oddly
immobile. Funny,
  214 STAR TREK LOG
  she thought, leaning back on her bed, how one could
grow so accustomed to something like a body. After all,
what was it but an envelope of nesh to provide
mobility for the mind?
  Experimenting in the privacy of her cabin, she
tried to sing a favorite song, the one she had
composed for her grandfather back on Earth. In place
of her beautiful, throaty tones the room filled with
an excruciatingly harsh, unmelodic gargling
noise. It might have passed as a cry for help, but
certainly not for music. She sat up in
amazement that so grating a sound could issue from her
throat.
  There were any number of other things about her present
body that made her feel
  uncomfortable. The best thing she could do would be
to ignore them and try to relax. She lay back
down again. The sooner she had her own body back,
the better. The thought of spending the rest of her life
in this lumbering masculine shape appalled her at
least as much as did the prospect of spending the rest
of his life in her body did Mr. Spock.
  By the following morning, Engineer Scott could
only report that the sensitive work on the damaged
rectifier was proceeding as fast as he dared permit.
  Kirk-sulu carried the stasis box in a large,
unadorned container as the four prepared to beam down
for the second day of conference, and the first real
negotiating session. To hide their deception, the
container had been made large enough to hold both the box
and the false field it was generating, since a true
Slaver stasis field would have appeared outside the
walls of a smaller container.
  A familiar but never comfortable instant of notbeing,
and the four officers found themselves in a modest but
impressive domed chamber large enough
to hold a hundred people easily. The floor was
composed of slabs of irregularly cut stone
resembling gold-veined marble. The entire wall on
their left was made of long slim panes of some
transparent glassy material. Kirk noted that it
appeared to lighten and darken to match the changing
sunlight pouring into the chamber. There
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 215
  were probably occasional clouds outside today, he
thought.
  They walked toward the window-wall and he saw that
the chamber and the building they were in were set on a hill
overlooking a broad swatch of ocean and beach.
Towering sandstone cliffs streaked with horizontal bands
of brown, orange, and maroon lined an imposing
headland in the distance. Small craft of unusual
design and construction swarmed like insects within the
quiet water of the bay.
  Kirk recalled what Colonel-Greeter
Pliver had told them about this being a very popular
resort area, within reach of the capital city. Trying
to imagine himself one of the happy, thin aliens
cavorting in sand and water below, he wondered how many
of the local honeymooners[*thorngg'assuming
Briamosites had
honeymoons[*thorn] partygoers, or ordinary
vacationers realizedthat an interstellar conference was
taking place only a couple of kilometers away
from them. Or if they cared.
  Come to think of it, if a similar work-halting
conference were being held on Earth, the average citizen
would shrug and wonder if he might squeeze out
another day of vacation without offending his boss. After
all, the future of the universal civilisation was a
trifle compared to the travails and adventures of
everyday life. Fortunately, Kirk knew, there were
those who took the business of civilisation somewhat more
seriously. They became philosophers or artists.
  Or they joined Starfleet.
  A long U-shaped table was set up near the
windowwa11, just out of reach of the invading sunlight.
The rest of the chamber was empty of furniture,
giving it a spaciousness one usually felt in far
larger halls. The two prongs of the U faced into the
room while the curve backed against the window-wall.
  Leader Sarvus and Vice-Leader Chellea sat
at the apex of the U-curve. They were flanked
by ColonelGreeter Pliver, who now rose as the
Federation representatives approached, and several
other undoubtedly important members of the
Briamosite hierarchy whose faces were new
to Kirk. One of them sat particularly stiffly..
His clothing and manner marked him as a
  216 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  military man. Empty seats, four to a side,
lined the outside of both horns of the table.
  "Greetings, Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock,
and Lieu- tenants," said Pliver, walking around the
table to shake hands human-fashion with each of them.
He conducted them to their chairs on the near side of the
U. The seats were a bit tight and narrow for the human
pelvis, but the four officersthough Spock, in
Uhura's body, had a difficult moment.
  Pliver glanced curiously at the large box
Kirk was carrying. "What does the lieutenant
carry, Captain?" he asked, talking to Kirk's
body. "The artifact?"
  "Yes," replied Uhura-kirk. "We'll
unveil it later."
  As Pliver seemed satisfied with that and didn't
press for details, Uhura wisely kept
quiet.
  Kumara and his attending officers arrived a few
moments later. They took the four seats on the
horn of the table opposite their Federation
counterparts.
  The Briamosites promptly opened the
  conference by reasserting their humanlike characteristics.
Every offlcial present, lips firm and ears wagging
like flowers in a strong breeze, delivered a
substantial speech, including Sarvus and
Chellea. No one intended that his part in this
important occasion should fail to be entered
into Briamosite history. In addition to a sense of
humor, it was clear the inhabitants of Briamos
were developed politically. So Kirk, Kumara,
and the other guests listened while the officials of
Briamos detailed variously the importance of the
conference: what they hoped might be achieved by it, their
desire to maintain friendly relations with both
governments no matter which one they eventually entered
into alliance with . . .
  The self-important speeches, Kirk knew,
were a characteristic common to immature races. Even the
member races of the Federation hadn't entirely
outgrown the juvenile aspects of government.
  "I now declare open this conference," Sarvus
declaimed at last. "We of Briamos look
forward to hearing from each of you at length." Kirk
tensed. The time had come for formal
presentations, and serious business.
  It was the signal for the opposing executive
officers,
  STAR TREK LOG
  in this case Sulu in Spock's body, to rise
in turn and deliver long prepared presentations. For
Sulu-spock, the words had been constructed by the best
Federation psychopoliticos at StarDeet Command and
Men relayed out to Starbase 25. Sulu-spock
read the sentences mechanically, spelling out as
clearly and persuasively as possible the
advantages which would accrue to Briamos if they
aligned themselves with the Federation.
  Kirk knew the speech would have been more
impressive and had greater impact if it had been
delivered half extemporaneously by Spock
himself, since Spock had the words fully
memorized. But that wasn't possible. Kirk
noticed that Spock, in Uhura's body, was
following Sulu's recitation closely.
  The Briamosites didn't appear offended
by Suluspock's reading of the prepared statement. As
Kirk had hoped, they seemed more interested in content
than form. All Sulu had to do was maintain a
posture of Vulcan detachment, keep his
voice a monotone. That was easy enough. The only
problem in rehearsing the speech back aboard ship
had been to restrain Sulu during the more emotion-charged
sections of the speech. After much practice he had
been able to recite the words without overly emphasizing
any of them. Just as he was doing now.
  If anything, it was even flayer in tone than
Spock would have presented it. They had decided to err
on the side of reality rather than risk having Sulu
reveal anything by trying to drive a particular point
home.
  From Leader Sarvus and Vice-Leader Chellea
down to the lowest-ranking official present (a
representative from one of the outlying Briamosite
worlds), the assembled alien officials received the
address quietly. Occasionally they would nod or
jerk their heads in meaningful but indecipherable
fashion, or lean over to whisper briefly to some
colleague. They did not interrupt, with either
applause or boos, or with questions or comments.
  When Sulu-spock concluded the speech and sat
down, Chellea responded with a short paragraph of
thanks, then asked Kumara to present his side. The
Klingons' executive officer acknowledged his
captain's
  218 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  nod, rose, and loudly proclaimed the
Klingons' hopes and intentions.
  Kirk bristled at some of the claims and outright
falsehoods contained in the speech, but restrained
himself. First it wasn't Lieutenant Sulu's
place[*thorngg'the body he
occupied[*thorn)'ffraise objections unless his
comments were specifically requested. Secondly,
Kirk knew that they would have ample time later to counter
the Klingon arguments and make objections of their own.
  Looking smug and satisfied, Kumara's first
officer concluded his speech in a burst of fiery
rhetoric accusing the Federation of intending everything for
Briamos from child-stealing to slavery, and resumed his
seat. His smile shrank considerably when, much to the
surprise of both parties, the Briamosite
officials removed tiny devices from beneath their
portion of the table. On touching controls, each
instrument regurgi- tated long scroll-like strips
of plastic opacity imprinted with dots and dashes and
curlicues. Both Kirk and Kumara expected that
their words would be somehow preserved, but they hadn't
expected each official to make his or her own
personal record. It displayed a
thoroughness Kirk had not given the Briamosites
credit for. He should have.
  After thoughtful inspection of their individual
scrolls, the officials looked up at their
visitors. And the questions began. They favored neither
side. The assembled Briamosites fired questions
rapidly, almost impatiently, at the respective
speechmakers.
  Both Kumara's executive officer and
Sulu-spock responded as best as they could.
Once, another Klingon officer replied to a question from
Vice-Leader Chellea when the executive officer
seemed at a loss for words. That was what Kirk had
been hoping for. When the Briamosites offered no
objection to the new speaker, it meant that he, in
Sulu's body, and Spock, in Uhura's, could
now offer their own expertise during the questioning.
  So as the questioning continued relentlessly, when
"Spock" or "Kirk" appeared slow to respond
or unsure of certain answers, Kirk felt this was
more than made up for by the impressive speed with which the
two
  STAR TREK
  subofficers, Lieutenants Sulu and Uhura,
  answered the queries. Indeed, even the
Klingons appeared impressed by the literate,
thorough responses the two Federation lieutenants
provided in response to certain difflcult questions
posed.
  Once, a particularly unsubtle inquiry was
made by one of the Briamosite officials in regard
to the depth and preparedness of the Federation's armed forces,
in reference to something the Klingon executive officer
had mentioned in his speech. Everyone was surprised when
communications officer Lieutenant Uhura
responded. They were more than surprised, they were
astonished at the lengthy list of impressive
figures, details, and
placements[*thorngg'all
unclassified[*thorngg'wh were
  provided, seemingly with effortless recall.
  Kumara in particular eyed Uhura curiously,
wondering at the apparently unrehearsed expertise
she had demonstrated in a matter not related
to communications.
  "Isn't it a fact, Lieutenant," Kumara
said quickly, when Spock-uhura had finished reeling
off the stunning array of statistics, "that the starship
grouping monitoring Starbase Fourteen was removed
only two months ago because that section and the
races in it weren't thought worth protecting
by Federation offlcials?"
  Kirk watched Spock-ubura closely without
trying to betray his concern. Kumara had concocted a
tricky question. It was true, as the Klingon had
claimed, that Starfleet forces had been withdrawn from
that sector recently. But that had nothing to do with not
wanting to extend protection to federated peoples in
that area. However, it did show the extent and
efficiency of Klingon intelligence.
  Actually, the ships had been transferred
to airdock for normal maintenance and overhauling and were
scheduled to return to their positions in another two
months. But it looked, if one viewed the matter as
Kumara did, as if the Federation was guilty of
indifference to the people of Sector 14, or at least of
gross negligence. Kumara could argue that the
reappearance of Starfleet vessels m that sector
now would be a Fed
  220 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  oration attempt to cover their error and curry
favor with the Briamosites.
  Sometimes, however, when the best-laid plans of
mice and men went awry, they could lead to equally
efflcacious new plans. Such was the case
now, as Spock turned a physical disadvantage
into an advantage. "I cannot answer you, Captain
Kumara," Spock-uhura claimed. "A
  communications officer is not privy to such detailed
information about military maneuvers. Since it
doesn't pertain to my specialty, I can't
confirm or deny your report. Ship movements are
more in the province of navigation."
  Kirk promptly picked up his cue. "I'll
be glad to check on unclassified movements in
Sector Fourteen and report back to this
assembly," Kirk-sulu declared. "I do know that
ships are often called from duty for standard
maintenance."
  He looked at his own body. "Isn't that
true, Captain?"
  "I am not permitted to confirm information of such a
sensitive military nature," Uhura-kirk
replied, fast enough to earn an order of merit.
  There! Those multiple responses countered
Kumara's accusation while leaving the facts
sufficiently ambiguous to forestall the need of a
specific reply.
  Kumara accepted his semantic defeat with good
grace. It was only one of dozens of
similar verbal battles that would be contested across the
conference table before the day's session drew to an
exhausted end.
  The session went on into the early Briamosite
evening, which was later in arriving than that of a normal
twenty-four-hour human day. The
  setting sun of Briamos was turning the sandstone
parapets across the bay to ribbons of grainy flame,
and lights were winking on on the pleasure craft
circling beneath them, by the time the questioning finally came to an
end.
  Uhura-kirk rose. "If there are no more
  questions from our hosts[*thorn]"
  Kirk-sulu broke in hurriedly, "One more
item on today's agenda . . . Captain."
  Uhura-kirk recovered quickly. "I was about
to bring
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 221
  it up, Lieutenant." She remained standing,
gestured toward him. "The presentation and display."
  Kirk-sulu felt relief he didn't show.
Standing and picking up the crate they had brought from the
ship, he moved between the table horns.
  "A stand or small pedestal of some sort will be
helpful, sirs," he told the Council,
directing his voice toward Pliver.
  The Colonel-Greeter wagged his left ear,
touched a switch set into the table before him. A section
of seamless wall slid aside, revealing a pair of
huge, armed Briamosite soldiers. The
Colonel-Greeter barked instructions at them.
They vanished into the wall, reappeared moments later
with a single-stemmed pedestaltable.
  Kirk wasn't surprised by the presence of the armed
troops. Such grim visages were present
to imsure that in the event the conference didn't continue
in an atmosphere of sweetness and light, the
Briamosite hosts would be protected from
Klingon-Federation belligerence. Automatic
weaponry would have been more efficient, but the presence of
live troops would be effective enough, he knew.
  "You can show it at any time, Lieutenant
Sulu," Uhura-kirk told him.
  "Yes, sir."
  Picking up the container, he placed it on the
pedestal and began unsnapping the side and top
panels. When the last latch had been flipped, he
touched a switch in the base of the container.
Dramatically, the top and all four sides fell
away simultaneously, revealing the glowing
stasis box.
  Expressions of amazement filled the chamber.
They came not from the phlegmatic Briamosites,
but from Kumara and his officers.
  "What is this artifact you have brought to show us?"
Leader Sarvus inquired, eyeing the box intently.
  Kirk-sulu went on to explain about the ancient,
extinct civilisation of the Slavers and the isolated
relics of their culture, the stasis boxes, which were
occasionally discovered in scattered parts of the galaxy.
As the story continued, several of the Briamosite
officials
  222 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  wagged their ears in recognition and appeared more and more
impressed. That meant that the wonders of the stasis
boxes were at least known to the people of Briamos.
  "As you can see," Kirk concluded, gesturing with
Sulu's hand at the softly glowing cube of Slaver
metal, "this stasis box has not yet been opened.
It could contain an ultimate weapon, any kind of
valuable device, or nothing at all. But to show you
our good faith and our confidence in the people of Briamos,
we've brought it here for you to see."
  "Even though," Uhura-kirk added meaningfully,
"we knew there would be Klingons present."
  "It's a fake!" Kumara rose angrily,
trying to divide his attention between Kirk-sulu, the
box, and Leader Sarvus. "They wouldn't dare bring
a real, unopened stasis box here to display on an
unallied world. Especially," he added with a loaded
grin of his own, "knowing that there would be
representatives of Klingon present."
  When neither Sulu-spock, Spock-uhura, or
Uhurakirk elected to respond to Kumara's
  accusation, Kirk decided to risk appearing a
bit authoritative.
  "If one of your officers has at his waist a
standardissue imperial science "corder, you can see
for yourselves."
  Kumara stared curiously at Sulu's form for a
moment, then shrugged, his mind too busy with more
important matters to follow up the
  impossible suspicion that had briefly occurred
to him. He eyed one of his subordinates.
"Kaldin. Let him use yours." He looked at
Sulu. "I assume you'd prefer to run the
analysis yourself, Lieutenant, rather than let one of
my men near your precious 'stasis" box?"
  Kirk-sulu nodded, walked over to the Klingons,
and took the compact instrument from the glaring
officer who proffered it. Carefully he passed the
device over the box, making certain the setting on
the instrument was not set too deep, where it could pick
up traces of the metal within, modern metals which
Scott had used in constructing the Slaver-field
falsifier. He also
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 223
  avoided the edges around the top of the box, where
Scott had resealed it.
  Then he turned and handed it back to the Klingon
officer, walked back to stand next to the pedestal, and
waited. There was a chance he might have mispassed the
"corder, that it might have detected a hint of the
chief engineer's handiwork.
  Apparently he hadn't. The Klingon officer
read the readouts on the device, performed a few
hasty calculations with a separate instrument, conferred
with the other subofficer on his left, and turned a
grim, solemn gaze on his captain.
  "Sir, the box is Slaver metal."
  "You're certain of that, Kaldin?" Kumara asked
tensely.
  "There can be no mistake with these readings,
Captain," Kaldin insisted, gesturing with the
'corder. He extended the hand holding the
device. "Slaver metal cannot be faked. Even if
it could, the metal readings translate according to their
nuclear bonds as being over a billion years
old, and that certainly cannot be faked. To last unfit
now, any metal would have to have been encased in a
Slaver stasis field. Check the readouts for
yourself, sir."
  Kumara wrenched the small instrument away from the
officer, glanced briefly at the readings and handed it
back. When he looked up at
  Kirk-sulu again his expression was more
  speculative than anything else. "Very welt.
So you do dare. But how can I be certain that it is a
real unopened stasis box? Simply because it's
Slaver metal is not proof enough."
  The conversation was beginning to revolve around Kumara
and Kirk-sulu, a dangerous
  development. Uhura-kirk recognized the
danger, spoke quickly to the captain. "Mr.
Sutu, Captain Kumara is doubtful that we're
telling the truth. Why don't we produce some
facts he can't argue with. Let's open the box for
all to see[*thorngg'right here, right now."
  "Yes, sir," Kirk-sulu acknowledged.
Turning, he took a small cutter from his
waist and extended it into the field. Evidentatty
he was going to use the thumbsized flamer on the
box's upper rim.
  224 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  The reaction was uncertainty among the
  Briamosites. Among the Klingons, who were
familiar with stasis boxes and their properties, the
reaction was much more predictable. They were on their
feet, staring in disbelief, except for one officer
who was hunting frantically for a plact to hide.
  All of Kumara's usual poise temporarily
deserted him. He was waving both hands wildly, his
gaze switching nervously from Uhura-kirk to the
ready Kirk-sulu. "Wait . . . to Jim, have
you gone mad?"
  Kirk-sulu activated the miniature cutter and
moved the high-intensity, dark blue flame closer
to the metal of the box.
  Desperately Kumara whirled to face Leader
Sarvus. "Sir, I beseech you, stop this! The
humans have gone crazy. You can't Just open a
Slaver stasis box with some crude tool. It could
set off a disrupter bomb or some other ingenious
Slaver trap within the box. A special device
is required to open the box safely."
He turned disbelieving eyes back to Kirk-sulu
and the threatening little flame. "We could all be
killed!"
  "You want proof, we're going to give it to you,"
said Uhura-kirk indifferently. "Existence is a
game of chances. We're not afraid."
  "Just the same, Captain Kirk," urged Leader
Sarvus, a mite shakily, "we would prefer that if
there is any truth in what Captain Kumara
says, you do not demonstrate your courage so
  recklessly. There is no need." He indicated
the box with a long, graceful arm. "I believe you."
  "As you wish, sir was Uhura-kirk looked
toward the box. "Never mind, Lieutenant
Sulu."
  "Yes, sir." Kirk-sulu flicked off the
cutter, replaced it at his waist. He fought
to keep from grinning at the look of relief that
appeared on Kumara's face. Well, he could
hardly blame him. If their positions had been
reversed, he doubted he would have been crazy enough
to try and call the box bluff.
  "It is true, honored leader," Uhura-kirk
was telling Sarvus, "that a Slaver stasis box must
be opened carefully. But there is no need
to be concerned when the openers have confidence in their
abilities. A stasis box
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 225
  is nothing more than a simple technological
toy. Its age doesn't imbue it with any mystic
  properties. It's all a matter of basic
physics." She glanced back at Kirksulu.
"Isn't that right, Lieutenant?"
  Kirk-sulu nodded, then reached out and gave the
stasis box an impressive little shove. The box
and aura fell to the hard, polished floor. This was a
calculated risk, designed to demonstrate beyond
argument for the benefit of the Briamosites how
courageous and self-assured the representatives
of the Federation were.
  Of course, if Scott's aura-simulator
should break loose inside the metal container, and the
aura vanish without any other sign of disruption,
Kumara and his colleagues could turn from frightened
to threatening. But Kirk was worrying needlessly.
Mindful of the captain's pre-setplans, the ship's
chief engineer had secured the box's fake
components tightly. The box bounced, but its blue
halo continued to glow steadily.
  The two Klingon subofficers yelped
despairingly and dove behind their seats. Kumara's
executive officer winced visibly, but held his
position. Kumara did likewise, but his hands
tightened on the edge of the table.
  Kirk-sulu approached the box. He gave it
a short kick. It went bumping and bouncing toward the
Federation side of the table, while a couple of
Klingon officers orchestrated each bounce and tumble
with appropriate moans.
  "I do wish," Kumara finally felt compelled
to re- quest, "that you wouldn't let him do that, Jim."
  "All right." Uhura-kirk smiled. "I think
we've amply demonstrated relative values
of, well, not courage, but confidence."
  "Insanity, you mean," Kumara whispered by way of
reply, his eyes still fixed to the box.
  "Lieu ten ant? his
  Kirk-sulu picked up the stasis box, placed
it on the table in front of his chair, and sat down.
  Glowering furiously but helpless to do anything, the
Klingon officers resumed their seats.
  Leader Sarvus rose, placed both hands and
long, limber fingers on the table before him as he
regarded Kirk and Kumara. "The Council will
retire for private
  226 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  discussion of today's session, gentlebeings.we must
debate among ourselves all that has been told and .
. . shown to us. Everything will be considered. If you
desire them, refreshments will be brought to you. Since
we may require
  additional information or elaboration of material
already put to us, we request that you do not leave until
we formally adjourn this meeting."
  "That's fine with us," said Uhura-kirk
pleasantly, after a rapid and unnoticed glance
over at Kirk-sulu, who nodded confirmation of the
Leader's request.
  "And to us," rumbled Kumara, still eyeing the stasis
box as if he expected it to leap across the open
space between them and blow up in his face.
  "We will return in," and the leader named a
figure that corresponded to about two Federation
hours. If Kirk's suspicions regarding
Briamosite politics were even partly correct,
the figure Sarvus mentioned was decidedly
optimistic. He didn't expect the
Briamosite council to conclude their deliberations
in double the indicated ffme.
  Not that that bothered him. He was prepared
to wait. Events had proceeded well for the Federation.
A glance at Spock-uhura showed that his first officer
was also optimistic about the outcome of the conference.
  There was a rustling of soft-legged chairs as the
various Briamosite officials slid away from the
conference table. A panel in the curving wall slid
aside and the officials disappeared into an
unsuspected chamber. That left the four Klingons
and four Federation officers seated quietly facing
each other.
  Kumara had turned and was huddled with his
subordinates. They conversed in whispers. Kirk and
his companions did likewise, glad of the
opportunity to drop their mimicry for even a few
minutes.
  "Captain, I've never been so terrified in my
whole life," Uhura confessed in Kirk's own
voice. "I never used to know what stage fright was.
Now I do."
  "You were terrific, Uhura," Kirk assured
her. "And you, Mr. Sulu. You make a very convincing
Vulcan."
  "Thank you, sir. I had an excellent
instructor."
  "I must add my own congratulations,
  Lieutenant," said Spock in Uhura's
mellifluous tones. "You've imi
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 227
  fated me quite convincingly. I must say it is a
strange sensation to attend a conference and watch while
one's own self replies to arguments, answers
questions, and moves about independent of one's own thoughts.
It is very much like a dream."
  Kirk's estimate of Briamosite
decision-making ability was correct. At least
four hours had passed before the assembled knot of
gangly aliens filed back into the conference chamber and
resumed their seats. They looked exhausted, mentally
worn, but satisfied. Clearly they had reached
agreement on one or more points.
  Leader Sarvus alone did not sit down.
Instead, he made a complex gesture with both hands,
his amazingly flexible hearing organs dancing like the
sails of toy boats in a spring breeze. "The
Council of Briamos has decided."
  Kirk leaned forward in surprise. So did
Kumara. Neither captain had expected a final
dispensation this quickly.
  Sarvus noticed their heightened attentiveness,
smiled with his ears. "We of Briamos do
not do things in haste, but we like to do them without of time being
wasteful. We do not feel further information is
warranted or necessary. Enough has been presented, combined
with what we already have learned, for a lasting decision to be
handed down.
  "Toward the unsuccessful side, we wish no
animosity." Kirk tensed in spite of himself.
"We wish to remain friends with all. But it has been
determined that it is in the best interests of the United
Systems of Briamos to ally itself with the United
Federation of Planets."
  Kirk began to smile broadly. He glanced
to his right[*thorngg'and what he saw killed the
smile instantly. Fortunately, the Klingons were so
outraged and excited at the Briamosites"
announcement that they didn't notice Spock was also
smiling. If they had noticed that inexplicable
anomaly. . .
  "Sssf! Mr. Sulu!"
  Sulu-spock looked down at the insistent
whisper, the smile fading curiously. Kirk
grinned back, hugely, grotesquely, and pointed
casually to the "science officer's"
  228 STAR TREK Ed TEN
  mouth. Sulu-spock looked blank for a
moment, then shocked, as he realized what had
happened. The smile vanished instantly from his face
and he resumed the dour expression more suited to a
Vulcan executive officer.
  Kirk returned his attention to the rest of the
chamber. No one had seen the unnatural smile.
Certainly none of the Klingons had, or they wouldn't
be raving with such single-mindedness at their
Briamosite hosts.
  "Sorry I am," Leader Sarvus declared in a
firm, no-nonsense voice. "But Council its
decision has made. We have all the factors
considered and balanced in objective fashion. We
see no reason to change that decision. Nor can you
present any additional evidence which would lead us to do
so." He paused to let the Klingons absorb that.
"Until tomorrow when we will an official
  leave-taking have for both sides, is suggested
strongly we[*thorn]"
  "I have some suggestions of my own," a furious
Kumara broke in. He was wholly Klingon now,
his veneer of carefully cultivated gentility
obliterated by the brusque finality of the
Briamosite decision. "Since you have chosen
to display the irrational obstinacy of so many
of the more primitive races, you leave me no choice
now but to[*thorn]!"
  Kirk had his communicator out and was in the
process of activating it. He was too late.
Kumara had come to the conference prepared to deal with any
eventuality, including the Briamosites'
announced decision. The Klingon did not bother with a
communicator, with orders or directions, but
simply touched a switch at his waist.
  A vast humming filled the chamber, the
  heartbeat of a huge yellow glow that enveloped
various sections of the room. Members of the
Briamosite council scattered in confused
panic. At their cries, wall panels slid
aside and armed, alert Briamosite guards rushed
into the chamber. But there was nothing for them to do, no one for
them to arrest, no antagonists for them to subdue.
  The Klingons, the four Federation
  representatives, and Leader Sarvus of the
United Systems of Briamos had vanished with the
glow.
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 229
  Kirk realized what was happening before they
rematerialized on board the Klingon cruiser. So
incensed was he at Kumara's action that he
nearly spoke out of turn[*thorngg'and out of character.
Luckily, his companions were as furious as he
was.
  Sulu, carefully maintaining his Vulcan pose,
spoke first as waiting Klingon guards herded the
prisoners out of the transporter alcove. His
angry but controlled comments reminded the others that they
were still imprisoned in the bodies of their friends and
shipmates. "This is a direct violation of the
Federation-Klingon treaty," Sulu-spock
declaimed. "Such an action is tantamount to a
declaration of war."
  "I would hardly go that far," countered Kumara
thoughtfully. There was no humor in his words, but he
seemed less apoplectic now that he was safely
aboard his own ship and once more in control of events.
  The prisoners were escorted down a corridor and
into an elevator shaft. "The
  Federation-Imperial treaties have power only within
Federation[*thorngg'Imperial space," Kumara
declared pleasantly. Kirk badly wanted
to respond to that statement, but forced himself not to. It
wasn't his place.
  Uhura-kirk had to speak for him. "The systems
of Briamos lie within the areas covered
by treaty."
  "That's so," conceded Kumara as the elevator
moved. "However, within an inhabited,
  intelligencedominated, technologically advanced
system such as Briamos, the treaties have no force.
Briamosite independence takes precedence over
outside agreements. If we were acting outside the
region claimed by Briamos, then all treaties
would be in effect. Within their system, Briamosite
jurisdiction has precedence," he added smugly.
"We're prepared to argue the point with the
Briamosites, not the Federation."
  "You're basing this kidnapping on a legal
technicallity," Spock-ubura risked adding.
"Submitting your specious argument to
  jurisprudence will reveal holes in it large enough
to drive a starship through, Captain Kumara."
  Kumara eyed Uhura's form curiously. "You
  dabble
  230 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  in interstellar law in addition to handling
communications, Lieutenant?"
  "A hobby only7" replied Spock-uhura,
promptly shutting up. It was exceedingly painful,
but Spock was going to have to force himself not
to reply to the Klingon commander's continued perversions of
logic. Lieutenant Uhura wasn't supposed
to know about interstellar law.
  "Don't talk to me of technicalities,"
Kumara countered.
  "Technicalities!" Uhura-kirk exclaimed
in disblief. "You call the abduction by force from a
treaty conference of your counterparts a
  technicality? Not to mention the kidnapping of the
leader of an independent system."
  "By force?" Kumara's lips curled in a
Klingon grin. "No one has touched anyone. As
for the other, we'll argue about it later. I have no more
time to waste on subtleties."
  That casual comment was far more chilling than any
direct threat could have been.
  The elevator doors slid aside and they were
ushered onto the bridge of Kumara's ship.
Several Klingon officers looked back briefly
from their respective stations. One called out
urgently, "Honored Captain, the Briamosite
security vessels are converging on your position."
  "They have received word then that we've invited their
Leader to be our guest," Kumara murmured.
  A curt alien sound, midway between a
cough and a grunt, came from the vicinity of the
Briamosite leader. Translation was not necessary. Its
meaning was abundantly clear.
  Kumara made a gesture and two of the
  Klingon soldiers prodded the tall leader. He
moved forward reluctantly. Kirk watched,
  thinking frantically, cradling the stasis box under
one arm. It had been beamed aboard with him, and there was
nothing more he could do beyond grabbing it before some Klingon
plucked it from its resting place in the transporter
alcove. He wondered how much longer it would be before
Kumara's attention switched from the viewscreen
forward and the
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 231
  closing Briamosite ships, to the softly pulsing
box Kirk held tightly next to his left
side.
  "Give me an open channel," the Klingon
com- mander instructed his communications operator,
"to the Briamosite ships."
  A few adjustments to his instrumentation and the
Klingon nodded to his captain. Kumara indicated
that the Briamosite leader was to come forward, where he
would be within range of the bridge visual pickup.
When the leader refused, he was "assisted."
Not especially gently, Kirk noted
tight-lipped.
  "They're your ships," Kumara said, indicating the
converging shapes on the main viewscreen. "Tell
them that you're in good health and that as long as they keep
their weapons quieted you will not be harmed."
  "Why to my people should I lie?" The Leader stared
over Kumara's head, entwined his flexible fingers in
resignation.
  "If you insist on playing the martyour, then
naturally I can't stop you," said Kumara
shrewdly. "You can always be one later. I think we
can resolve our present situation, if you don't
find our hospitality pleasing. So let's discuss
before we come to any final, fatal decisions, shall
we?" He indicated the viewscreen again.
  "They can attack any time. Why rush your
  death?"
  Leader Sarvus looked uncertain. He glanced
back at Kirk-uhura for advice.
  Uhura grew frantic, tried to look at
Kirk-sulu without looking at him. But they had
several simple, prearranged signals for
communicating in emergencies without giving their altered
identities away. One tap on the
floor would indicate a negative, two taps
positive. Kirk-sulu's boot stamped twice,
nervously it seemed to any onlooker, and Uhura
hurried her reply.
  "Go ahead and tell your ships to hold back,
sir. Let's see what Kumara has in mind,
first."
  The Leader's ears twitched sharply. "It shall be as
you say, Captain Kirk." He turned back
toward the screen, his gaze passing over and utterly
ignoring Kumara. "As we have little experience in
dealing with the things of Klingon, we must rely on the
advice of those who know them better."
  232 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  Leaning forward over the pickup, he gave the
order not to attack. There was a wait. A report
came from the Klingon science station.
  "Scanners show that all alien vessels continue
to maintain their positions, Honored Captain."
  Kumara looked up warningly at Sarvus.
"Tell them to pull back. They can keep us within
range if they like, but they're close enough to make me
nervous."
  The Briamosite leader spoke into the pickup
once more. Then the viewscreen showed the
warships, now numbering an impressive dozen,
moving away from the Klingon cruiser.
  Kumara appeared satisfied, and turned his
attention to Uhura-kirk. "Now it's your turn,
Jim. You'd better talk to your own people. As soon
as they discover you're not down on the surface, and
learn what happened, they're liable to panic instead
of reacting sensibly."
  "That'd be hard on you, wouldn't it?" a bitter
Kirksulu said. Kumara ignored the lieutenant.
  "Any attack would of course result in your
death, Jim, and that of your companions.
  Needlessly, as you'll soon see. Either that or
we'd destroy the Enterprise. Neither possibility
can be to your liking." He barked an order at the
communications officer, who promptly switched
to standard Starfleet intership frequency.
  Kirk-sulu's foot struck the deck twice
again. Uhurakirk didn't even look in his
direction this time as she absorbed the instruction.
"Enterprise?" she said into the aural pickup.
  "Scott here. Is that you, Captain?" The chief
engineer's worried voice gave no sign that he
knew he was speaking to Lieutenant Uhura and not
Kirk himself.
  "Yes, Mr. Scott. We have been kidnapped
by the Klingons."
  Scott started to reply, sputtering, but
Uhura-kirk cut him off quickly. "Remain
calm, Mr. Scott." (how fortunate, Kirk
mused, that Kumara wasn't aware Kirk commonly
called his chief engineer Scotty.) "We have not
been harmed. So far, it seems we are not going
to be. We are going to . . . discuss the situation
soon.
  "Leader Sarvus of the United Systems of
Briamos
  STAR TREK LOC TEN 233
  has been abducted with us." She added, for good
measure and for Kumara's edification, "If it was
only myself involved I'd have you arm all weapons and
engage, Mr. Scott. However," and she looked
back at Sarvus, "with the Leader of our new
allies on board, we cannot risk a confrontation."
  Kirk mentally wrote out a commendation for Uhura.
She had managed to confirm officially that the
Briamosites had now formally joined
  themselves to the Federation.
  "Are you certain, Captain?" Scott inquired,
em- phasizing the "Captain."
  "Mr. Scott," Uhura-kirk replied,
"Mr. Spock, Lieutenant Sulu, and
Lieutenant Uhura are all here with me. If
any of them could speak, I can assure you they would
give exactly the same orders."
  That satisfied Scott that Uhura was acting with
Kirk's approval. "Verra well, sir. But
tell the Klingons not to try movie' a single
planetary diameter farther out than they are now.
If they do, we're gain' to open their ship up like a
  pre-stressed package of carbonated beverage."
  Kumara chuckled. "Such belligerence!" The
amusement didn't last but a couple of seconds.
"That's enough," he instructed his communications
officer. "Keep monitoring both Enterprise and
local frequencies. I want to know if and when
any of the involved parties contemplates aggressive
action."
  "Yes, Honored Captain," the communications
chief replied efficiently.
  Another officer called out. "The Enterprise is
raising defensive screens, sir. Energy readings
indicate that she is activating her phasers!"
  "Calm down, Kivord," the Klingon commander
said. "They're just warning us not to do anything
without informing them first of our intent." His gaze
traveled to Uhura-kirk and Leader Sarvus.
"We have no intentions of trying anything without your knowledge .
. . and consent."
  Leader Sarvus recogruzed a negotiating cue
when it was offered to him. "You mentioned we might to an
arrangement come," he murmured resignedly.
"What
  234 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  sort of arrangement? You must know there is nothing
I, a single individual, can do concerning the decision
of the Council."
  Kumara took his time, walked away from them and
sat down in the command chair. "I realize that we cannot
force Briamos to rescind its verbal agreement with the
Federation, no matter how much more beneficial an
alliance with Klingon would be."
  This time Sarvus didn't bother to sneer.
"Whatever chance the Klingon Empire might have
retained for future assignations with Briamos has
been obliterated forever by your actions this day of," the
Leader said woodenly.
  "I'm aware of that." Kumara sounded disgusted.
"Those who are foolish enough to join themselves to the Federation
rarely manage to extricate themselves from their
entrapment. The
  Pederation has numerous exceedingly devious
methods for insuring that captive peoples never
regain their independence of action. Once snared
by Pederation lies, a race can never free itself from that
efficient network of agents, lies, and deceptions.
  "However, we can do something else. If we cannot
convince Briamos of the efficacy of aligning itself with the
Empire, at least we can prevent you from making the
fatal error of joining the Pederation. You, Leader
Sarvus, will sign treaty forms declaring yourselves to be
permanent neutrals. You will make no alliance,
mutual agreement of cooperation, or material
exchange of any official sort with either the Pederation
or Klingon." Kumara leaned forward intently.
  "Furthermore, Jim," he told
Uhura-kirk, "you and your executive officer
Spock will
  acknowledge witnessing this treaty. You will sign, in
your official capacity as
ambassadors-designate, treaty forms to the
effect that the Federation will not violate Briamosite
neutrality or attempt in any way to induce the
Briamosites to ally themselves with the Federation any time
in the future." He sat back in the command
chair.
  "I think that's a reasonable request, considering
your present situation, Jim. If you consent to do this,
then upon the signing and registering with relay stations of
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 235
  the treaty articles, you will all be permitted
to return to your ship and you, Leader Sarvus, to your
world, free and unharmed."
  "I . . . I don't know what to do." Sarvus
looked hopefully at Uhura-kirk.
  She responded, staring straight at Kumara, with the
same words she thought her captain would use. "You
expect us to give in to political blackmail,
Kumara? If you kill us, the Enterprise will you
apart deck by deck. If the Enterprise fails, the
Briamosite fleet surely won't. The
Briamosites will know what you've done because you'll have
to kin Leader Sarvus also. Once that's done, their
alliance with the Federaffon will become stronger than ever.
And there will be trouble on a scale you can't begin
to imagine."
  "Oh, I can imagine it," Kumara responded,
unperturbed by Uhura-kirk's stormy reply.
"A just don't think what you postulate could
happen."
  "You seem to place a great deal of confidence in the
Federation's unwillingness to go to war."
  Kumara executed the Klingon equivalent of a
shrug. "A few officers lost here, a couple
kidnapped there. That's not sufficient grounds for
intergalactic war. Besides," he continued, smiling
humorlessly at each of them in turn, "future
political possibilities and the legality of the
treaties you sign need not overly concern us here.
What is actually at stake, now, here, this moment,
is far simpler to grasp and balance: your lives.
But there's no need," he added more easily,
"to consider such extreme possibilities." The
smile returned. "I can see that in order to convince
you to see clearly, some persuasion beyond mere logic
is going to be necessary . . ."
  XVI
  The Klingon bridge was silent save for the steady
thrumming of instruments as the prisoners considered that
first direct, ominous threat.
  236 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  "This is the so-called civilization you considered
allying yourselves with," Uhura-kirk said sadly to the
towering Briamosite leader.
  "Forgive us," Sarvus replied. "We
were ignorant of true facts. That has now
changed."
  "One of our respective moral codes is not
necessarily better than the other," Kumara
observed, "simply different." He turned his
gaze on Uhura's form. Spock regarded the
Klingon commander calmly out of Uhura's eyes.
  "Say what you mean," snapped Uhura-kirk.
"Your attempts at rationalising criminal
behavior aren't fooling anyone."
  Kumara ignored her, glanced at the
Briamosite leader. "I think we can
demonstrate the sniveling sentimentality of the
Federation races in the face of danger, Leader
Sarvus. It will serve to illustrate the
undependability of the Federation in difficult
situations. For example, it is enlightening to know,"
he went on, his attention returning
to Spock-uhura, "that humans are absurdly
irrational when it comes to threats to females of their
species. All I need to do is threaten one of
them. That one," and he pointed suddenly at
Spock-uhura, "with bodily hartn, and they will
rapidly capitulate to the most
  unreasonable demands. Are those the kind of
people you wish as allies?"
  Kumara looked around the bridge, beckoned to one
of the guards standing near the elevator doors.
"Kora. Present yourself."
  A massive Klingon ensign left his station and
marched over. He was a young, hugely muscled
specimen and stood nearly as high as Leader
Sarvus's shoulders, towering over everyone else on
the bridge.
  "A little demonstration can be entertaining as well as
instructive," Kumara said easily.
  Uhura-kirk looked outraged. "This is
barbaric, Kumara!"
  "Perhaps. Sometimes old methods are best,
however." Kumara glanced up at the waiting, silent
ensign, then pointed across the bridge. "That one, the
female."
  Kora nodded, grinning wickedly.
  "Not too fast, mind you," Kumara instructed the
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 237
  bulky soldier. "I have to give our guests
plenty of time to change their minds about my
proposal."
  Sulu-spock took a step in front of
Uhura's body. "You can't let this go
further."
  "Why not?" Kumara appeared to be enjoying himself
thoroughly. "I see no one who is going to stop
me."
  Several other guards now focused their
  weapons on the other three officers.
  "It's all right, sir," insisted Spock with
Uhura's voice, as he stepped out to confront the
Klingon fighter. He looked at Kumara. "Let
us proceed."
  "Brave lady," the Klingon commander said. Pri-
vately, he was disappointed. She should be cowering in
terror, as obviously outmatched as she was.
Well, Kora would change her attitude fast
enough, and perhaps her face as well.
  "Don't try to interfere, Captain," said
Spock-ubura to the real owner of the body he was using
"I'll . . . take care of things."
  Kumara stepped down out of the command
  chair, gave further instructions to his fighter.
"Remember," he whispered, "I don't want her
killed. Rearranged convincingly, yes, but not
killed."
  "I will be careful, Honored Captain," the
soldier insisted. Kumara nodded, then
stepped out of the way. The huge Klingon advanced on
Uhura's body, arms outstretched.
  "You can stop this any time you wish, Jim," he
told Uhura-kirk, "by agreeing to my requests."
  Uhura-kirk looked agonized over the
situation. Actually, it was a cover to allow Uhura
a covert glance at Kirk-sulu. When the captain
appeared content to let events take their course, she
wiped the concern from hersthis face and watched the open
space in the middle of the bridge.
  The Klingon reached out with a long, thick arm.
Spock-ubura's leg whirled up and around in a
peculiarly forceful kick Hat battered the
grasping arm violently to one side. The kick was
followed by a hand that thrust straight at the Klingon's
solar plexus. Even
  238 STAR TREK LOG
  with Uhura's lighter musculature behind it, the
well-directed strike carried plenty of impact.
  Kora whooshed, looked surprised, and backed
away clutching at his middle.
  "Don't fool around, Ensign," ordered an
irritated Kumara.
  "I was not, Honored Captain," Kora
growled. Glowering ferociously at
IJ-HURA'S form, he approached more cautiously.
The combatants warily circled each other.
  This time the Klingon feinted with a kick of his owns
Before he could withdraw the feint,
  Spock-uhura's hands came up in a strange
way and caught the leg. They twisted, applying
leverage as well as force. With a crash the Klingon
fighter tumbled to the deck. Several of the other
Klingon crew members murmured in confusion among
themselves.
  Breathing hard, Spock-uhura stepped back as
the ensign slowly climbed to his feet. If
Spock had been using his own body, Kora would not
be getting off the deck. He was trying to compensate for
lack of strength with skill.
  "Watch him, Uhura," Uhura-kirk warned.
  It was a deserved warning. Doubly embarrassed
now in front of his crewrnates and captain, the
ensign had turned an apparently routine
  assignment into a personal vendetta. He
  advanced carefully, giving Spock-uhura all
the respect he would a Klingon male.
  Spock-ubura thrust with an arm. A Vulcan
arm would not have been blocked, but Kora just barely
managed to deflect Uhura's slimmer
limb. Forsaking any hint of subtlety, the much
bigger, heavier Klingon rushed past the extended arm,
charging blindly into the communications officer's body.
  They fell to the deck. Powerful arms locked around
Spock-uhura's waist and began to tighten.
Spock knew he would have to do something fast or the
body he was inhabiting would soon pass out.
  Bending and moaning as if in dire distress, he
reached back with one hand concealed beneath the two entwined
bodies. It came up behind the Klingon soldier,
caught at his neck in the
difficult-to-duplicate
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 239
  fashion which only a born Vulcan could truly
master, and pinched.
  The massive shape of the ensign went suddenly
limp. Spock extricated himself from beneath the Klingon
bulk, stood up panting, and looked around.
  Puzzled and angry mutterings came from the
Klingon crew members. One, another guard, bent
over the unconscious Kora's body, threw a
bewildered look at Captain Kumara and an even
more uncertain one at the retreating form of
Spock-uhura, who had moved to stand alongside his
companions.
  "Well?" an angry yet confused Kumara said.
  "Ensign Kora is alive but unmoving,
Honored Captain," the inspecting guard declared.
"If I did not know better, I would say he has
been
  somehow paralyzed."
  "Impossible!" Kumara gazed in disbelief at
Spockubura. "He must have struck his head on the
deck."
  "Face up to it, Kumara," said Uhura-kirk,
"our Lieutenant Uhura defeated your chosen
fighter fairly by Klingon standards, and by Klingon
law you can't force her to fight again."
  "Yes, yes, I know." Kumara was
desperately trying to salvage something of the disastrous
situation. A glance at the Briamosite clearly
showed that the honor of Klingon had suffered in the eyes
of an inferior alien race. That was embarrassing.
  Then he brightened, having thought of a way to turn a
defeat into victory. "I have done what I really
intended, Leader Sarvus, which was to fool these
representatives of a heartless government
inffdisplaying their true inclinations. They are dedicated
only to the arts of war, as their attitude just now
proves."
  "How can you say that?" interjected Sulu-spock,
stepping forward. "You who are of Klingon, one of the
most militaristic societies in galactic
history. You have no room for honest feelings, for the
good things of civilization such as art and poetry and
song!"
  This wholly impossible emotional outburst from the
Enterprise's executive officer left Kumara
without words. "Poetry . . . Ah, you mean the
coldly logical mathematical precision of
rhymes."
  "Oh no, no!" Sulu-spock protested
vehemently.
  240 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  "Members of all Federation races are
sensitive to all aspects of creative endeavor.
Myself, I often prefer free verse."
  Spock-uhura shuddered at that, but no one
noticed.
  "From the heartrending strains of Szygenic
music," Sulu-spock was saying passionately,
"to the loose mind-stanzas of M'radd of Cait.
Some of those sonnets are so . . . so . . ."
Sulu-spock wiped away a tear. The
unfamiliar precipitation burned, but
Sulu bore it stoically. "You'll have to excuse
me," he said, the tears flowing freely now. "The
mere thought of his poetry causes me to lose all
control."
  If Kumara had been flabbergasted by the
diminutive Lieutenant Uhura's prowess at
  hand-to-hand combat, the sight of a sobbing Vulcan
was unreal enough to paralyze him almost as completely as was
the stillunconscious Ensign Kora.
  Uhura-kirk jumped into the silence. "You see,
Kumara, you can't win. You can't threaten us into signing
those treaty forms, and now you'll never convince this
gentlebeing," and she indicated the Briamosite
leader, "that everything vou say isn't a lie."
  "No doubt there is to that," Sarvus declared with
finality.
  No one could tell if Kumara heard any of this.
He was in a state of shock, first from seeing one of his
most powerful warriors knocked silly by a
delicate human female, and second by the sight
of an emotionally upset Vulcan.
  Finally he blinked, seemed to see them clearly
again. "There are a great many things in this universe I
do not pretend to understand," he declared softly, with more
modesty than the average Klingon fighter,
"and today's events are among them."
  He turned to face Uhura-kirk. "I concede
this conference to you, Jirn I cannot continue playing the
game while I doubt the evidence of my own eyes.
You have won a round, not a war. But while I do not
know how you have done what you have done here, I still can win
a greater victory. You may return to the surface
of Briamos," and he smiled mirthlessly, "but
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 241
  that remains aboard." He gestured at the glowing
cube beneath Kirk-sulu's arm.
  "That's not possible," insisted Uhura-kirk,
playing her part to the hilt. "You know what the
Federation's reaction would be if we turned over an
unopened stasis box to you."
  "My dear Jim, how outraged you can be. You have
no choice in the matter. I am not a believer in
useless causes, so I will not kill you when there is
no benefit to it. Briamos has married itself,
sadly for them, to the Federation. Similarly, it is
useless for you to insist on retaining the stasis box.
It is allied to no one. It remains here, with me.
I would rather have it than Briamos anyway."
  He threw Sarvus a contemptuous look. The
  dignified BA-AMOSITE leader was not
affected.
  Uhura-kirk turned to Sulu-spock. "Mr.
Spock, your opinion?"
  "It is a risk, Captain. The box
hopefully contains nothing dangerous to the Federation.
Captain Kumara is correct when he says we
have no choice. He risks a major diplomatic
incident over the theft, but that is his problem. We can
do nothing except refuse transport. By moving
within the field, we could conceivably kill ourselves,
thus inviting attack by the Enterprise and
Briamosite ships. But we have someone besides ourselves
to consider." He indicated the watching Leader. "We
cannot ask him to risk his life."
  "Don't for me worry, gentlebeings," Sarvus
said. "If you believe that box would be so valuable
to these . . . creatures"[*thorngg'and he gestured
at Kumara, who bristled but did not
reply[*thorn)'"...then I am here quite prepared
to die."
  "No. It would be useless," Uhura-kirk said,
seemingly despondent but actually trying hard not
to laugh. "Kumara would still have the box." She composed
herself, faced the Klingon commander.
  "We accept your offer because we have no
choice. I'm betting the box contains nothing the
Empire can use."
  "A wise choice, Jim." Kumara was feeling
pro- gressively better about things. What matter
a few systems? They had gained a Slaver stasis
boxl "Naturally,
  242 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  the box may be empty. Who knows?" He waved
at the guards. "Escort them all back to the
  transporter room and have them beamed down to their
previous positions."
  The four Federation officers and Sarvus were herded from
the room, Kumara's attention turned to the box.
Walking over to where Kirk-sulu had placed it on
the deck, he picked it up. Turning it over and
over in his hands he finally placed it on the floor
next to the command chair, basking in its strong azure
glow.
  "Klaythia," he called to his chief science
officer, "set up a field nullifier."
  "Immediately, Honored Captain."
  "Perhaps this will contain the final weapon," Kumara
murmured as he stared at the metal cube. "The
device which will enable us to achieve our destiny and wipe
the decadent Federation from this part of the
galaxy, so that we may expand as was intended for us in
the Great Scheme of Things." He walked around the
box, inspecting it from all sides.
  "And even if it is empty," he concluded with
delight, "Kirk will have no way of knowing that. It will
always prey on his thoughts that he might have given us an
all-powerful discovery. At least, if nothing else,
I will gain personal satisfaction from this
unfortunate conference!"
  The instant the five former prisoners had
rematerialized on the surface of Briamos, before
the startled gaze of two guards in the otherwise
empty conference chamber, Uhura-kirk turned to the
Briamosite leader.
  "I hope you'll excuse us if we depart
quickly, sir. There are reasons to think Captain
Kumara might try to go back on his decision
letting us go. We'll be safely out of the grip of the
Klingon
  transporters back on the Enterprise. And some
simple adjustments in your own communications
equipment will prevent him from beaming you aboard also."
  "No need to worry about that." Sarvus's reply
was calm, but his ears were semaphoring like leaves in a
hurricane. Other excited
Briamosites were entering the room, having been
called by the two guards. Several
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 243
  turned as soon as they entered, departing on the
run. "I have just given orders for our ships
to attack, assuming the Klingon beast has been
foolish enough to linger within range of our weapons." He
sounded curious now. "But why should the Klingon risk
waiting here to try and recapture you? He has
gained the valuable box. Surely he should be speeding
away from this spatial vicinity to avoid pursuit
by your ship."
  "He might try to come back," Uhura-kirk
told the Leader.
  "We'll beam a complete explanation to you,
sir," Kirk-sulu said, unable to restrain himself
any longer. Ignoring Leader Sarvus's
increasingly confused expression, he flipped open his
  communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise."
  "Enterprise here," came the prompt
response. "Engineer Scott spea[*thorn]"
There was a pause, then Scott added excitedly,
"Captain" You're back on the surface.
What[*thorn]?"
  "Tell you soon, Scotty. Beam us
up immediately and prepare to get underway."
  "But I . . . Aye, Captain. Stand by."
  Kirk flipped off the communicator. While he
didn't think Kumara would return on discovering that
the stasis box had been opened previously and that the
instrument generating its "stasis field" was a fake
of Federation manufacture, he did not want to linger
around Briamos to find out. The Briamosites could
take care of themselves. While he didn't
necessarily relish the thought of someone else
destroying Kumara, diplomatically it would be
better if the Federation wasn't involved.
  Four pillars of multicolored energy filled the
conference chamber. Beyond, tall pleasure-seekers
enjoyed the warm waters of the cliff-cupped bay and the
white gypsum sands, ignorant of the drama that had
been played out during their vacation times.
  Before his vision faded, Kirk saw the Leader of the
United Systems of Briamos waving to them. His
perpetually frozen expression had finally shattered,
and he was smiling with his face as well as his ears, as
if to insure beyond a doubt that Briamos and its sister
worlds
  244 STAR TREK TEN
  would remain a staunch and valuable addition
to the Federation civilisation for many centuries to come.
  Kirk was no more disoriented than usual when he
rematerialized back on board the Enterprise.
Scott was manning the transporter console himself.
When Kirk took a step toward the engineer, out of the
alcove, he nearly stumbled awkwardly. It was an
awkwardness, however, born of renewed familiarity.
At the same instant he was looking down at himself,
there came a startled exclamation from behind him.
  "Captain!",
  The voice and form were those of his
  helmsman, Lieutenant Sulu. But he had
been occupying Sulu's bodyl And if Sulu was
standing there, healthy and composed behind him, that meant that
he[*thorn]
  Sulu finished the thought for him. "Captain,
we're back in our own bodies!"
  "So it would appear, Lieutenant." Spock
stepped out of the alcove, looking expectantly
toward the transporter console.
  Scott trotted around to greet them, beaming with
personal as well as professional satisfaction.
"I tried to tell you, Captain, but you told me
to beam you up fast. I figured that explanations
weren't necessary anyhow. Besides, there was a chance
it wouldn't work, that I hadn't made the repairs
completely or properly."
  "Unlikely, Mr. Scott, if you felt
confident enough to beam us back up without warning us first."
  Spock's comment was delivered with his usual seeming
indifference, but Scott knew the first officer well enough
to recognize a supreme compliment when he heard
one. Spock's
  seemingly unconcerned statement meant more to the
chief engineer than a fi/l of written commendations.
  He accepted it as matter-of-factly, however, as
it had been given[*thorngg'one professional,
high-ranking officer to another.
  "I don't know about the rest of you," Sulu said,
"but I feel like I'd been wearing the same set of
clothes for twenty years and just had them cleaned for the first
time."
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 245
  "It's strange," Kirk agreed, "to be back
in something you never imagined being without." He smiled
tightly at his chief engineer. "Thanks,
Scotty. Ship's status?"
  "Ready to leave Briamos orbit, Captain.
All stations alerted and waiting."
  "Then we'd better get underway." He
moved to the nearest intercom, flipped it to open
mode.
  "Bridge, this is the captain speaking," he said
forcefully, thoroughly enjoying sound of his own voice
inside his head.
  "Is it really the captain?" came the uncertain
reply. Kirk recognised the gentle voice of
Lieutenant Arex.
  "It is, Lieutenant. We're all back in
our own homes again. Warp-factor three, set
course for Starbase Twenty-Five. I'll be up
in a second."
  "Very good, sir. And sir?"
  "Yes, Lieutenant?"
  "It's great to have you back where you belong."
  "Thanks, Mr. Arex." Kirk grinned at the
ancient snatch of song. "We feel the same.
Kirk out."
  Uhura stepped down out of the alcove, still a little
dizzy from reintegration, in more sense than one. "You
can go now, Mr. Scott."
  The chief eyed her oddly. "I beg your pardon,
Lieutenant?"
  She looked abruptly embarrassed. "I'm
sorry, sir. I was still playing the
captain."
  "And you did a conference-saving job of it, too,
Lieutenant Uhura." Kirk eyed each one of
them in turn. "That's something which will go into everyone's
records. Let's go."
  As they stepped into the waiting turbolift car,
Kirk noticed that the communications officer was
limping. Old fears came back. Perhaps
Scott's rectifier hadn't been one hundred
percent corrected. "What's the trouble,
Lieutenant?" he inquired uneasily.
  'Eve got a bruise that feels like it covers the
whole back of my right leg, sir," she replied
feelingly, "and both my arms weigh about twice
normal."
  'I am sorry about that, Lieutenant Uhura."
  Spock sounded apologetic. "It was difficult
enough for me to counter the size and strength of the Klingon
soldier
  246 STAR TREK LOQ TEN
  Captain Kumara pitted against me. I'm
afraid I was forced to employ muscular
arrangements which your body is not familiar with, as
well as blocking off certain neural responses
in order to shut off pain so I could remain
functioning."
  Uhura winced, rubbed at the back of her injured
leg. "1 wish you'd been a little more careful, Mr.
Spock. I'm pretty proud of this body myself and
I don't like having it banged up."
  "Truly, I'm sorry, Lieutenant. If
there had been another way of avoiding the damage,
I assure you I would have employed it."
  They emerged on the bridge to be greeted by a
number of uncertain stares. As soon as it was made
abundantly clear to all that the four officers were
back in their original selves, the bridge
personnel relaxed.
  One who was waiting to greet them on their return
strolled over to the command chair as soon as Kirk had
seated himself.
  "If you've no objection, Jim, there's something
I'd like to request of you." McCoy indicated
Uhura, Sulu, and Spock. "Of all of you."
  "What is it, Bones?"
  "When we're well on our way, I'd like
to interview you four and record the interviews. I
think the results would make an excellent
monograph, one I'd like to submit for publication
in the Journal of Starfeet Physicia
tilde will.
  Mind-to-body transposition has been accom-
plished surgically, via transplant, but never before
by transporter. If we could determine how to do it
safely and repeatedly, there could be enormous
potential benefits for[*thorn]"
  Sulu glanced back over a shoulder from his
position at the helm-navigation console. "Just as
long as I don't have to go through it again, Doctor."
  Nor I, Lieutenant," added Spock from behind
the science console, in a tone that was not truly
emotionladen but that carried plenty of impact.
  Kirk checked the main viewscreen. Stars showed
brilliant against the velvet blanket of space
where Briamos had recently rode. They were well
on their way.
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 247
  "The Klingons should be opening the stasis box about
now. Don't you think so, Mr. Spock?"
  "Yes, Captain."
  Kirk was unable to suppress a sly smile.
"Wonder what they're going to say when they find
nothing inside except a small generator
projecting a simulated stasis field?"
  Spock sounded unexpectedly
uncertain. "The scenario you envision is not entirely
in keeping with the facts, Captain."
  Frowning in puzzlement, Kirk turned in the command
chair, stared at his first officer. "What do you mean,
Spock?"
  "It was not my idea, Captain." Spock almost
sounded embarrassed. "[t was done at Chief
Scott's insistence. I remonstrated with him,
insisting that it was a juvenile notion, but the chief can be
difficult to dissuade when he fixes on a
particular idea. Also, he has less tolerance for the
Klingons than most of us. I could, despite my
personal position, see no harm in allowing him
to proceed."
  "Proceed? Proceed with what? Spock, what
are you talking about?" Kirk didn't know whether to be
upset or consoling. Here he was sure the entire
Briamos incident was behind him, and now Spock
seemed to be hinting that something had been done without
his, Kirk's, knowledge. The first officer's comment about
Scotty's well-known dislike for the Klingons only
made him more nervous. They had escaped Briamos
with a solid commitment from its inhabitants, while
avoiding any dangerous encounter with the Klingons. But
now[*thorn]
  What had Scott done . . . his
  Kumara and his science staff had adjourned to a
sealed, double-walled room. They stood behind a
portable shield, watching through the
  superdense but transparent plate as the field
nullifier continued to hum at the stasis box.
  "Something's wrong," Kumara muttered
  uneasily. The nullifier had been operating for
several long mo
  248 STAR TREK LOG TEN
  meets, yet the blue aura surrounding the box
had not disappeared as it should have.
  "I do not understand, Honored Captain," his
equally concerned science chief said. "All settings
and power levels are correct. The instrumentation is
not complex and follows precisely the
  schematics set down in the manuals for such a
nullifier. The aura should vanish. It should have
vanished long before now."
  "Try successively lower power settings,
Klaythia," the Klingon commander suggested.
  "I will try, sir." Klaythia adjusted
controls on the remote he held. The third
setting he tried produced an audible click. The
blue halo vanished instantly. Everyone
in the room was satisfied, except Klaythia.
  "I don't understand, sir," he murmured
uncertainly. "This stasis-field generator is
operating at a much lower output than any
previously recorded level for a Slaver box.
  "There's a first time even for stasis boxes,
Klaythia. Since the box itself generates the
field, anything is possible. Maybe this box is
especially old and its power has failed." He
sounded pleased. "It may contain a particularly
valuable device, to have been sealed for so long.
  He was leading the assembled science officers toward
the box, which sat on a low table in the center of the
otherwise empty room. This was a great moment for the
Empirel
  A low whine sounded from within the box, rising
rapidly in volume to a dangerous howling. The party
of Klingons froze.
  "Is that normal, Honored Captain?" asked
one of the lower-ranking specialists.
  "No. No, I've never heard of it happening
before," declared Kumara, taking a cautious step
backward.
  The whining increased. Powerful lights began to glow,
pulsing unevenly from the slowly opening top
of the box. The whine became a scream and the box started
to quiver and bounce on the table.
  Kumara and the other Klingons continued their steady
retreat, eyes glued in fascination to the dancing
box. "Something went wrong with the nullifier, Klay
  STAR TREK LOG TEN 249
  thia.we've set oRather some kind of previously
unknown type of Slaver self-protection
device."
  "No . . . Honored Captain." Even now
Klaythia was more afraid of his commander's wrath than
of what the increasingly energetic box might do. "I
assure you, all was checked and rechecked before the
nullifier was activated. It is operating
properly. I admit I cannot account for the way the
top of the box is opening without manual assistance
but[*thorn]"
  There was a loud bang from within the box and several
howls of despair from the assembled officers and
specialists. The box jumped several meters,
hit the right-side wall, leaped to the ceiling, then
fell to the deck again, while the Klingons scrambled
to open the sealed door.
  The box lay still. Two officers paused, half
in, half out the opened doorway.
  A violent explosion blew the top of the box
roofward. Most of the Klingons broke and ran in
terror, shoving each other aside in their haste
to escape. More colored lights shone from the box's
interior. Flashes of bright, colored smoke
appeared, formed glowing symbols in the smoky air
of the chamber.
  Kumara squinted, coughing in the haze. He
discovered he recognized the symbols. They were
Federation script and spelled out:
  FEDERATION PORBVER
  And below that:
  DOWN KEINGON'
  Now the noises from inside the box organized
themselves into a coherent pattern. Klaythia, who had
flattened himself to the deck at the initial violent
explosion, looked up thoughtfully. Kumara lay
next to him and was climbing to his feet.
  "I believe, Honored Captain, that those sounds
are an electronic rendition of the Federation
Interstellar Anthem."
  "Imbecile!" Kumara belted his science chief
hard
  250 STAR TREK TEN
  across the mouth, even as he was drawing his
sidearm. "I am all too familiar with the insulting
propaganda contained in that wailing that passes for
music among humans!"
  Aiming the sidearm at the cheerfully tooting box,
he fired. There was a small ke-rummp as the box
blew apart. The music died out slowly and rather
pitiably. Kumara fired again, at the glowing words
floating in the atmosphere of the chamber. The burst
passed through the letters, blew a smoking hole in the far
wall. He could only hope the infuriating words would
fade before anyone else saw them. He turned
away, confronted the face of a security officer who
had gathered enough courage to peek back into the room.
  "No one," he said angrily to the soldier, "is
to enter this room until those obscene symbols have
been cleansed from the air, and this debris disposed of.
Is that understood?"
  "Yes, Honored Captain." The security
officer withdrew hurriedly.
  Walking back into the room, he holstered his
sidearm and kicked contemptuously at the shattered
rubble of the box. Most of the container had been
vaporized or melted by his weapon.
  "Let this remain always in your memory,
Klaythia," he told his science chief,
"as an indication of the fiendish way in which the human
mind works."
  "It will, sir," said the subdued Klaythia. He
stared mournfully at the remnants of the box. "What
a shame, sir.... All that valuable Slaver
metal, gone."
  Kumara let those words sink home. Realization
filled him.
  Kirk was just a light-minute too far away
to hear the stream of curses that filled the chamber on
board the Klingon cruiser.