Star Trek: The Original Series - 082 - Federation (15 page)

‘Tll say it again, Colonel Thorsen: The destruction of that test facility was the result of the failure of the lithium converter and the resulting uncontrolled mixing of matter and ant/matter. The instability of lithium under these conditions is probably the single biggest problem we’ve still to overcome in regulating the intense energy flow we need.” Thorsen stared fiercely, uncomprehendingly, at Cochrane, and the scientist could see that the soldier was not willing to let go of his dream so easily. “Yet your own testimony at the hearings confirmed the total absence of radiation traces. You are a scientist. sir: How is it that matter and ant/matter can annihilate each other willlout the creation of prodigious amounts of ionizing radiation?” Cochrane struggled to maintain control. Not just for himself but for Sir John and his granddaughter. “If you had reviewed all of my testimony before the board, you would know the answer to that. An engineering failure created a runaway continuum distortion that made everything within it vanish from normal space-t i me— including the radiation.” Cochrane leaned forward, drawing the outline of the asymmetrical distortion field with his hands, as if he were back in the lab talking to students. “It’s a simple concept,” he said frantically, trying to reduce physics only a handful of people truly understood to something Thorsen would grasp. “The radiation created by the matter-ant/matter reaction traveled outward from the point of annihilation at the speed of light. However, the momentary surge in power to the continuum-distortion bubble, in the two Emroseconds the generator remained intact, propagated at one poiu~.~/x times the speed of light—faster than the radiation.

When the bubble was pulled out of normal space-time by the proximity of the sun’s gravitational distortion, eveo, lhing within it was pulled out of space-time, too. Including the generator, the explosion. and all radialion released by the explosion.” Thorsen narrowed his eyes. “Leaving behind a perfect, hemi-spherical crater in the lunar surface with a diameter of eighteen meters. beyond which nothing was disturbed.” Thorsen rose slox~lx and walked around to the front of the desk again. “You do understand that you created the perfect weapon, don’t you?” Even the dim emergency lights were enough to reveal the cruelty in his eyes. “Complete destruction of the target, with no radiation fallout, no blast effects. The ultimate surgical strike guaranteed not to produce unwanted civilian casualties.” “You’re not listening,” Cochrane pleaded. “It doesn’t matter how big a generator you build, or how powerful you make it, all you will ever get out of it is a bubble of displaced space-time eighteen meters in diameter. This close to the sun, that’s as large as the continuum-distortion bubble can grow before it no longer exists in space-time.” Thorsen gazed steadily at Cochrane, as if willing him to change what he knew to be true. “I never thought you would be a fool who suffered from a lack of imagination, Mr. Cochrane. Your superimpellors regularly travel at what velocity now? Sixty-four times the speed of light? Earth to Alpha Centauri in a little less than a month? What kind of hole would you have left on the moon if your distortion bubble had propagated at that speed? I’ll tell you: half a kilometer. If you boost it by another of your time multiplier factors: three-quarters of a kilometer. And by another factor: almost a kilometer and a half of complete destruction.

With no collateral damage!” “What you are suggesting is impossible,” Cochrane stated firmly, though his heart sank as he realized why he had become so important to Thorsen’s demented vision of Earth’s future. “I haven’t been able to prove it yet, but I suspect it’s because the sun’s gravity creates wormholes when continuum-distortion fields are formed too close. Empirical experiments show that near Earth, the distortion field can only ever be eighteen meters in diameter no matter how fast it propagates. On Mercury, it would be no more than six meters across. Out by Neptune, perhaps one hundred meters. Any farther out, and you have continuum-distortion propulsion. The sun’s gravity is the limiting factor. Not technology.” Thorsen loomed over Cochrane, casting his shadow across him.

“I have read your research, sir! I know for a fact you are working to control the size of the field. I know for a fact you can control the size of the field!” “To make it smaller,” Cochrane insisted. “So superimpellors can operate more closely to a star. So we can use it planet to planet instead of system to system. Someday we might even be able to launch from the surface of a planet with them. u ‘The whole trick is to shape the region of distortion around the spacecraft. I can increase the efiYciency and the operational range of the superimpellor within a gravity well. All I need to do is create an alternating series of overlapping fields. Each field helps shape the other at finer resolutions. Look at the designs of most of the ships—two generators balanced like a tuning fork offset to either side of the center of transitional mass. I have nothing at all to do with that. My engineers have nothing to do with that. It’s the nature of the continuum.” Thorsen stepped back to lean against his desk again. He regarded Cochrane thoughtfully. “As I have said, I have read your papers. I have studied your work and your life. I even admire your mind. I consider your accomplishments to be the hallmark of what the Optimum Movement is striving to become—what it ,zu~f become if this world, if humanity, is to survive.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose as if he had gone too long without sleep.

“But the Optimum has enemies, sir. Ignorant cowards who would have us huddling by fires in caves, afraid of what lies outside, and of each other.” He looked away, seemingly lost in remembrance of some secret regret. “Those enemies attack us even now. They rail)’ against us across the globe. No matter how hard I try to bring enlightenment and a new order to the world, they’ want to stop me, throw away everything I have achieved.” Thorsen looked at Cochrane as if inviting him to reply, to offer encouragement. But Cochrane restrained himself from saying anything. He knew who the Optimum’s enemies were: decent women and men who had the courage to stand up to fanatics, who believed that order could never come out of any group that governed by exclusion, prejudice, hatred, and genocide.

“A warp bomb could save us, Mr. Cochrane. With such a weapon. purely for self-defense, no one would dare attack us. War would at last become unthinkable.” Cochrane stared at Thorsen with incredulity, hearing the man sax exactIx, what Micah Brack had predicted would be said, though un~ter different circumstances.

“Colonel Thorsen,” Cochrane said slowly, “even if a warp bomb were possible, if it were the only thing that would keep the Optimum Movement in power, I would rather die than build it for you.” Thorsen reached into the breast pocket of his blood-red jumpsuit and withdrew a local net phone from his pocket—a slender, pen-shaped object with a tip that glowed green when he twisted it on. He glanced at Cochrane and his mouth flickered up into a ghastly approximation of a smile. “Even if you resist me, Mr.

Cochrane, you are too valuable to die. For now. But, fortunately, there are many other nonoptimal people available to take your place.” “This is Colonel Thorsen,” he said into his net phone, as if with great reluctance. “Mr. Cochrane and I appear to have reached a deadlock which must be broken. Bring in the old man. And his driver.”

U, $, S, ae/VTaeRPRI$ae N C C - 1701 STANDARD ORBIT BABEL PLANETOlD Stardate 3850.7 Earth Standard:
November 2267

As he entered the transporter room, Ambassador Sarek’s face was tinged with a greenish cast, the perfect picture of Vulcan health, completely recovered from McCoy’s surgery. At the ambassador’s side, Amanda, his human wife, walked with a placid smile. The other delegates given passage on the Enterprise had already beamed down or had been taken by shuttle to the Babel planetoid.

Only Sarek and Amanda remained.

Kirk, uncomfortable in his dress uniform, had been looking forward to a final meeting with the ambassador. But the presence of Admiral Kabreigny had forced him to scale back his expectations. The admiral was impatient to get under way for the Gamma Canaris region and there would be little time tbr Kirk and Sarek to converse. The presence of the transporter technician behind the console would also constrain what could be said.

“Ambassador Sarek,” Kirk said formally, “though I wish the circumstances had been less trying, it has been a pleasure having ou aboard.” Sarek nodded his head respectfully. “The voyage has been most interesting,, he allowed. Then he looked tellingly at Spock, standing at Kirk’s side, between the captain and McCoy. “And most productive.” Spock and Sarek regarded each other impassively, but Amanda beamed. “I would take that as a supreme compliment, Captain.” “I’m pleased to have contributed in any way to… what has transpired,” Kirk said. In deference to his science officer he tried not to match Amanda’s emotional display. Prior to this voyage, Spock and his father had not spoken in eighteen years, and Amanda was clearly delighted that the impasse between her husband and son was at an end.

Kirk became aware of Admiral Kabreigny looking at Sarek in agitation. Kirk realized the admiral had no idea what the ambassador and his wife were talking about. That suited Kirk. He decided to add to her confusion.

“And I look forward to having you aboard again,” Kirk continued, “especially so I can have a chance to win back some of Dr. McCoy’s tongue depressors.” With an air of complete detachment, Sarek said, “You can try, Captain.” Kirk kept track of the admiral’s look of extreme confusion. As far as he was concerned, Sarek had just made a joke.

With the same unchanging expression, Sarek addressed McCoy. “Dr. McCoy, I find your surgical skills to be satisfactory.” Kirk watched as McCoy’s grin faded. “Satisfactory” was not the accolade he apparently had been expecting to hear from a patient whose life he had saved under exceptionally trying circumstances. But before he could register his dissatisfaction, Spock quickly addressed him. “I will explain later, Doctor.” Then it was Spock’s turn to say farewell to his parents. “Father, I wish you success at the conference.” “That is not logical, Spock. Your wishes will not affect the outcome.” “But as someone who respects the Federation and your position on the question of the Coridan Admission, it is logical for me to have those wishes.” “Undoubtedly. But why do you find it necessary to share them with me when they can have no part in what I must do?”

“I do not find it necessary. I merely state them so you may know your logic is supported by independent analysis.” “I see. It is a logical position.” Amanda sighed with a happy smile. “Just like the old days.

Thank you. Captain. And Dr. McCoy—” She stepped up to the doctor and gave him a hug, leaving him with a large Southern smile of his own. “—thank you for all you’ve done for Sarek.” She glanced back at her unsmiling husband. “We are both deeply appreciative.” Then Amanda stood in front of Spock, and Kirk could see the internal struggle she underwent, forcing herself not to hug her son as well. “I do hope you’ll come home the next time you’re on leave. There’s so much to catch up on.” “I do write as often as I can, Mother.” Amanda smiled at her son, a smile warm enough for both of them. “That’s not the same and I know you know it.” Sarek held out his hand, extending only his first two fingers.

“My wife, attend me.” With an expression of peace, Amanda joined her fingers with her husband’s in the traditional way for a married Vulcan couple to physically interact in public. Sarek held up his other hand, parting his middle fingers in the familiar salute. “Live long and prosper, my son.” Spock returned the salute, and in a tone equally devoid of emotion. replied, “Peace and long life, Father.” “Dr. McCoy has seen to that,” the ambassador replied; then he stepped up on the transporter platform, Amanda at his side.

Kirk and McCoy gave their own versions of the salute—McCoy still couldn’t get his fingers to behave—and Kirk gave the order to energize.

When Sarek and Amanda had departed, Spock turned to McCov and raised an eyebrow. “Doctor, I have never seen my father’so full of gratitude.” McCoy’s own face screwed up in confusion. “That was gratitude’?” “Of profound depth. In addition, I have never seen him behave in such an emotional manner in public.” “Emotional?”

Spook held his hands behind his back. “For whatever reason, my father seems to have become quite taken by you.” McCoy turned to Kirk. “This is a joke, right?” But it was Admiral Kabreigny who answered. “Vulcans don’t joke, Doctor.” Kirk was surprised to hear the admiral say that. She obviously didn’t know Vulcans the way he did. Vulcans might not understand human humor, but they had their own version of it, Kirk was sure.

The admiral glared at Kirk. “And now that this… family reunion or whatever it was is over, your duties at Babel are completed, Captain.” Kirk went to the intercom panel by the door and called the bridge. Sulu answered. “Lay in a course for the Gamma Canaris region,” Kirk said. “Proceed when ready, warp factor seven.” Sulu acknowledged, and by the time Kirk had rejoined the admiral, he could already hear the distant thrum of the Cochrane generators begin to resonate through his ship. Warp factor seven would be a strain, and undoubtedly Mr. Scott would complain after a few days, but the speed would bring the Enterprise to her destination in less than a week.

But Kabreigny said, “Warp factor seven isn’t good enough, Captain. There are one hundred and two crew and passengers on the P[anitia.” Starfleet admiral or not, Kirk did not take kindly to officers attempting to give him orders on his own ship. “I’m certain that if Command thought their lives were in real danger, then other ships would have gone to the region before now, instead of waiting for the Enterprise.” Kabreigny pursed her lips in stern disapproval and a network of fine wrinkles formed around them. “Since when is it your job to guess what Command thinks?” Kirk replied with equal forcefulness. “Since I took command of this ship, Admiral, and was given standing orders to interpret the laws and regulations of the Federation and Starfleet whenever I am outside the range of timely communication with both—which is just about all the time.” Kabreigny stepped closer to Kirk, staring up at him furiously.