One Small Step Read online

  Chekov volunteered to escort the Kalandans to the transporter room. As they left, Kirk sauntered over to McCoy.

  McCoy lifted his glass in a toast. “Well, that was a success.”

  Kirk’s brow furrowed. “Something’s not right.”

  “What’s wrong? I thought everything was going fine.”

  “I don’t trust them, Bones.” Kirk seemed preoccupied.

  “What’s not to trust? They saved the ship, they gave us the vaccine, then they found the defense computer for us. What more do you want?”

  “I don’t know.” Kirk was staring after the Kalandans.

  McCoy drained the last of his drink. “Well, if you want to spend your time worrying about people who’ve done nothing but help us, you can, but I’ve got better things to do. Like getting reacquainted with my own bed.”

  Kirk grimaced, and McCoy was sorry he’d been so blunt. But what else could he say? He clapped a reassuring hand on the captain’s shoulder before he left for sickbay. It was best not to mention to Kirk that he was going to disinter D’Amato’s body for removal to Earth. No wonder Jim was so edgy. He had a lot on his mind.

  Luz knew that Tasm was incensed by the way her nostrils flared with every breath. But Tasm restrained herself as they made their way to the transporter room.

  It was different when they materialized back on their scout ship. As soon as the lowering walls closed around them, Tasm exclaimed, “Are you defective? You spoke about a taboo with your target.”

  Luz couldn’t think of anything she’d said wrong. In fact, she was making more progress with her target than any of the others were. Dr. McCoy would do almost anything she asked right now and not even think twice about it. But Pir had been hopeless at the reception, unable to maintain a simple conversation with anyone. That silly smile hadn’t helped.

  Mlan and Pir stood awkwardly in the small space. But since Tasm hadn’t dismissed them, they stayed to witness.

  “Death,” Tasm said flatly.

  For a moment, Luz thought Tasm was ordering her to be put away. It had always been her fear, that her pod-mates would decide she was defective and summarily reject her. A hasty disintegration in the surgical unit, and she would cease to exist.

  “No, Tasm!” Luz blurted out. “Not that!”

  Tasm turned to Pir and Mlan. “She told her target that we disintegrate our dead.”

  Her pod-mates were taken aback, their eyes accusing. “Luz!” Pir blurted out. “You know death is one of the taboos.”

  “Didn’t you meditate on the analysis of the Kalandan logs?” Tasm asked.

  Luz hesitated. They had been ordered to their cells prior to the reception to absorb the information feed containing the computer analysis of the Kalandan logs. But Luz had never assumed a meditative state. She had been busy thinking about the glory their pod would receive when they returned with interstellar transport technology. A select few might even be brought into the birthing chamber, as they deserved.

  But it would take the rest of her life to return to their birthing world, and anything could happen along on the way. It would be best for them to appropriate the Kalandan station and use it as a base so they could operate the portal while en route.

  Luz had been so busy worrying over whether Tasm could bring them through this engagement successfully that she hadn’t paid any attention to the information feed.

  “There wasn’t much time to absorb everything,” she offered by way of excuse.

  Tasm turned to Pir. “Tell me, what did the logs say the Kalandans do with the scientists who died.”

  Pir obediently recited, “The Kalandan dead are stored in cryogenic chambers.”

  “The Kalandans used their dead for science experiments,” Tasm said. “Yet you just told your target that the body is useless once it’s dead.”

  “Ten thousand years have supposedly passed,” Luz quickly pleaded. “Things can be different now.”

  Tasm was impassive. “You violated a taboo and deviated from the common character line, Luz.”

  Pir and Mlan were looking even more reproachful. Luz knew she had made a mistake. Was the surgical unit next?

  “You need me,” Luz insisted. “I’m making real progress with the doctor. Next time I’ll meditate harder on the feed. I’ll do better . . .”

  “Go to your cell,” Tasm ordered.

  Luz felt an immense relief that she wasn’t being taken to the surgical unit. It was instantly followed by a stab of resentment. It wasn’t that critical a mistake. Even Tasm had made mistakes on this engagement.

  Luz knew she was being singled out because she didn’t always agree with the others. And Tasm was waiting for her to make a mistake, any mistake, so she could be disciplined. Look at Pir and Mlan — those mindless automatons were following Luz to the cells. The Petraw might as well send out androids instead of scouts.

  Luz dragged her feet the closer she and Tasm got to the cells.

  “Get in there and meditate on the feed,” Tasm ordered.

  Luz took a deep breath. “All I need is another repeat.”

  Tasm waited impassively for her to slip inside. Luz could see the conviction in her hard eyes. If she didn’t get inside the cell, she might get dragged to the surgical unit. Pir and Mlan would do it, too. They would do whatever Tasm told them to do, because she was the leader of this engagement.

  Luz ducked her head and crawled into the cell. She had no other choice. She was doomed to wander the stars in a life constrained by her narrow pod-mates.

  Tasm sealed the cell on Luz. She could see Luz’s fist beating on the semi-transparent seal. Some Petraw needed more instruction than others. Another four hundred crons of the information feed on a continuous loop should be more than enough. Luz would have to meditate sometime, and then the information would be part of her memory.

  Tasm wasn’t about to risk their cover. If Luz continued to be uncooperative when she came out of the cell, Tasm was prepared to detach her permanently from this engagement. At this point it would be difficult to explain her absence to Dr. McCoy, but he was apparently a minor target anyway. Tasm was prepared to take any measures necessary to ensure the success of this mission.

  Chapter Twelve

  SPOCK WORKED right through the evening with Kad, the Kalandan second officer. Thus far, Kad had only smiled once, when his commander had opened the doorway to the defense computer. After that, he was civil enough, but he concentrated on the work at hand.

  Spock preferred him to Officer Marl, the Kaladan engineer. Marl was a tall man who shuffled when he walked. His head was slightly bowed, a subconscious sign of deference that was unnecessary. They appeared to be standard humanoids, though thinner than average. Their most outstanding feature was their multicolored eyelids. Kad had yellow and brown streaks, while Marl had red and purple layers.

  Marl had evidently taken a liking to Mr. Scott, remaining by the engineer’s side after Scott transported down. Warp capability had been restored on the Enterprise, and Scotty had managed to whisper to Spock, “She’s nearly set back t’ rights! Shields are up t’ eighty-seven percent!”

  Spock didn’t indulge in useless praise. The engineer had merely done his duty. He assigned Scott and Marl to assess the damage to the monofilaments leading from the processor to what appeared to be an energy source. They had already cut off sections of the outer casing of plasticized osmium, revealing the interior of the computer core. The modules of the nanoprocessor units were sealed and set in rows of ten, numbering nearly one thousand in all. The modules were linked together by bundles of monofilaments.

  Scott and Marl were working in the base of the computer, under the processor, attempting to examine the power supply. From the grunts and muttered words that were exchanged, it appeared that some progress was being made.

  Sifting through the monofilaments, Spock tested each one with a laser wand. Many were sealed inside from the phaser damage. Security Guard Reinhart’s phaser had been on setting four, producing a thermal shock wave that ha
d been carried through the monofilaments to the defense computer bank. The effects of the thermal radiation had leaped the incoming bundles of monofilaments, and had sealed many of the links between the modules as well.

  “Do your people still employ monofilaments as data and energy carriers?” Spock inquired.

  “No, our forcefield conduits are more efficient.” Kad glanced up. “If it’s true that your ship was dimensionally transported nine hundred and ninety point seven light-years away, perhaps the monofilaments control the flux in the excessive amount of power needed.”

  Spock looked at Kad with interest. “That would be a logical method of regulating the power from a magnetic field generator.”

  Kad was also examining the slagged monofilaments. “What sort of distribution system do your people use?”

  “The Enterprise employs a network of optical monocrystal microfibers to relay data. Much of our power distribution is through a series of high-energy waveguide conduits.”

  “Your optical microfibers might be compatible with this system,” Kad suggested thoughtfully.

  “Perhaps,” Spock conceded. “We would need to examine the interior of a module to determine the method of connection. What memory storage medium was used by your ancestors?”

  “We know so little about that time.” Kad shook his head. “Now we use a series of stasis fields to increase the processing rate. But these modules are too small, and there’s no plasma manifolds to control the stasis field. Should we begin taking apart a module?”

  “First the integrity of the system must be verified,” Spock decided.

  Spock used the laser wand to randomly test approximately one-fifth of the monofilaments. It took hours, resulting in only one conclusion. “The integrity of this system has been irreversibly compromised. Seventy-six percent of the monofilaments on the exterior port connection have been sealed by the phaser discharge.”

  Scotty popped out from under the processor in time to hear. “Well, she’s got access to power. Th’ bundles of monofilaments feed through this level and pass a stasis field our instruments canna penetrate. But th’ monofilaments are clear an’ functioning! None show signs of any damage.”

  Kad was working on the lower modules. “It appears the thermal discharge wave hit the computer and was slowed down by the data storage modules. Twenty-seven percent of the monofilaments down here are damaged.”

  Scotty smacked the side of the computer bank with one hand. “She’s scrap,” Scotty said bluntly. “Ye’ll be getting nothing out of this computer.”

  Marl’s head was hanging as if it was his fault.

  “I believe you are correct, Mr. Scott,” Spock agreed.

  With that, Scotty stretched to his fullest height, raising his hands as high as they would go. “That’s it fer me then! I’m getting some shut-eye.”

  “Very well, Mr. Scott. Please inform the captain that my own report will be ready for him shortly.”

  “You’re not going to stay, Mr. Spock!” Scotty’s voice lowered and he moved closer to Spock. “You’ve been up for two days, man.”

  “I will meditate later,” Spock evenly replied. “Good night, Mr. Scott.”

  Scott threw up his hands, as though he thought Spock was acting irrationally, but he didn’t try to convince him to retire.

  Marl looked disappointed, but he just watched Mr. Scott leave the chamber. “What about directly accessing the data modules using another processor?”

  “That is one possibility.” Spock slowly circled the exposed computer bank. “However, we have limited time and must target our goal.”

  Both Kalandans nodded as though they understood that reasoning.

  With the excessive number of monofilament links destroyed, it was not likely that the data in the modules could be accessed in a coherent fashion. Computer modules were notoriously difficult to crack. Some were contained with extremely low pressure to aid in faster-than-light calculations. Radiation or powerful magnetic fields were often employed.

  “In my opinion,” Spock told them, “the danger of opening a module far exceeds the knowledge to be gained at this point.”

  He circled the computer to the arch. Not far away, the cylinder made of neutronium was attached to the side of the computer bank. “However, this device is unique. The cylinder and the archway appear to be a unit. They may form the subspace matrix through which matter can be dimensionally transported.”

  The cylindrical unit appeared to be joined to the bottom layer of nanoprocessor modules through a bundle of monofilaments. Spock tested several dozen and found none had been damaged.

  The bundles of monofilaments fed through a single access port on the side of the cylindrical unit. Kad saw what Spock was doing, and he traced one bundle down the side of the computer. He had to go underneath the processor to see where the monofilaments emerged. “This bundle disappears into a port in the flooring,” his muffled voice said.

  There was no access panel, so it took some work to cut the plasticized osmium flooring. Marl proved to be adept with the maser-saw. He also did much of the heavy lifting, prying up balky sections of floor with brute force. Spock offered assistance, knowing his superior strength would make quick work of the job, but Marl appeared to gain a great deal of enjoyment from the task and carried on.

  With several sections of the flooring up, Kad noted, “These bundles are going to the arch.” Marl’s reaction was much noisier and enthusiastic. He cut into larger swaths of flooring to reveal the entire length of the monofilament conduit. It led directly from the cylindrical unit to the nearby arch.

  Kad was serious. “Can we make the portal work without the computer?”

  “Unknown.” Spock aimed his tricorder at the arch. “My tricorder is unable to penetrate the stasis collar around the port.”

  “We have a microfocus sensor that may work.” Kad searched in the case their ship had beamed down. Spock had seen various useful tools come out of it.

  Marl handed Kad a slender sensor unit with a pointed tip. “I tried it on the port leading to the energy source, but the magnetic flux scrambled the signal.”

  Kad gripped the sensor and knelt down next to the base of the arch. “This port isn’t leading to any energy source. It may be able to tell us what’s behind the neutronium casing.”

  The unit beeped and flashed a series of lights. After a few moments, Kad stood up and pressed the sensor into a slightly larger diagnostic unit. He showed Spock the screen, which had a readout of the percentages of elements present, a mass analysis, and a scrolling schematic of the exact location of the molecular distribution.

  Kad explained what they were seeing. “The monofilaments enter the port, then appear to be melded with the neutronium core of the arch. There’s only a small volume of empty space; the rest of the arch must be solid neutronium.”

  “Fascinating.” Spock briefly considered whether a fusion technique had been used to create such a large structure of neutronium. It was beyond the current capabilities of Starfleet scientists.

  Kad merely shrugged, but Marl looked disappointed. “Let’s try the cylinder. It can’t be solid neutronium, too.”

  Spock moved away from the computer bank so Kad could place the pointed end of the sensor against the port where the monofilament bundles emerged. The unit beeped and flashed thirty-four point two seconds longer than the first time.

  Kad showed Spock the diagnostic unit. “The monofilaments are attached to eighteen junction nodes. It doesn’t appear that monofilament linkages are used inside the unit itself. The junction nodes themselves are in cryostatic suspension.”

  Spock raised one brow. “Indeed? That would indicate that cytoplasmic relays are used.”

  “The inside of this unit is nothing like the rest of this computer system,” Kad agreed. “Most of the components joined by the junction nodes are encased in neutronium, impenetrable to this sensor.”

  Spock considered the information they had gathered thus far. “The computer bank is one unit, while the cy
linder and archway are another. It appears to be a melding of disparate technological elements, much like the construction of your ship.”

  Kad looked faintly startled, while Marl actually laughed out loud. “I guess that’s one thing that hasn’t changed about my people. We’re open to updating our systems if something better comes along.”

  Spock ascertained that the third and largest bundle of monofilaments from the cylindrical unit penetrated the same port that appeared to provide energy to the computer bank. He borrowed Kad’s microfocus sensor and diagnostic unit to check these monofilaments. They appeared to be fully charged.

  “The cylinder and archway are connected directly to the power source,” Spock announced. “However, the Losira replica indicated that full power would not be authorized except by the defense computer.”

  “This computer isn’t authorizing anything,” Marl pointed out.

  “It can’t be repaired,” Kad agreed. “So that means we can’t operate the interstellar portal.”

  “Unless . . .” Spock considered the design of the computer processor. “Thus far, every system on this station has operated on an as-needed basis. Since full power can be authorized by this computer, the magnetic generator may simply comply if power is called for from this location.”

  “Then we might be able to get the portal functional!” Marl kicked aside some of the sections of flooring he had just removed. He was clearly impatient to get to work. “Let’s do it.”

  Spock opened his communicator. “Enterprise, Spock here. Please replicate a transporter self-diagnostic subprocessor with its own power source.”

  From the ship, the third-watch communications officer acknowledged, “Aye, sir. I’ll have the replicator unit get to work on it right away.”

  Spock acknowledged and signed off. Then he explained to the Kalandans, “We shall test your theory that our monocrystal microfibers are compatible with the monofilaments. I will attempt to bypass the original computer using a new subprocessor. A high-level, self-diagnostic program may be able to determine what commands are required.”