textfiles/sf/STARTREK/thegreat.p1-

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From: eisimps@cie.uoregon.edu (Eileen Simpson)
Subject: The Great American Star Trek Novel, Ch. 1
Message-ID: <1992Aug29.011157.14167@nntp.uoregon.edu>
Summary:  The Next Generation Gap
Sender: news@nntp.uoregon.edu
Organization: University of Oregon Campus Information Exchange
Date: Sat, 29 Aug 92 01:11:57 GMT
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    The Great American Star Trek Novel-"Where No *Man* Has Gone Before"
Being an Account of the Last Voyage of Exploration of Capt. James T. Kirk.

A Society of Feminist Trekkies (S.O.F.T.) Presentation.
Copyright, 1989 by E.G.Simpson as to all original characters and content.
Not intended to conflict with copyright of Paramount as to Star Trek.


                               CHAPTER ONE

                            *****************
  Laughter and music. That was how they began. 
  They were the joy that filled the creation. In some places, stronger. In 
others, weaker. But always, they were there.  
  The great, throbbing heart of the Milky Way could not overwhelm their 
influence: what they could not go through, they went around. . . 
over. . . like a liquid spilling through the galaxy, until everything 
within it had been touched with at least some sense of them.
  They loved stretching playfully among the stars, being one with all
they touched. Where they were strongest, and experienced directly, life
was different: gentler, informed by their immediate presence.  
  Where they were weaker, experienced indirectly, after many reflections and
refractions of their energy, life was more difficult, differences more
distinct, other forces more sinister. They were less known by such
life, and such life was less known to them.
  And it fascinated them, this life that was so barely known. So when 
it peeked around the core of the Milky Way, so fragile, so vulnerable, 
they touched it with the full, pure power of their song...

                            *****************

  Chief Medical Officer Leonard H. McCoy had never been so happy to be
called away from his supper in his life. It had been the worst mealtime
conversation he had ever endured. Worse than the cadaver discussions
during medical school. Worse than the time Scotty had related the dining 
rituals of the arachnids of Omicrom Theta II in lurid and profuse detail.
  Yes, he assured himself, it was worse than any of the dozens of candidates 
he had acquired over the years for the coveted title of: Things I Have 
Almost Lost My Lunch Over.  
  He had spent the meal period with a contingent of Enterprise's junior 
officers listening to them discuss, in righteous and all-knowing tones, 
"The True Meaning of Starfleet Officerhood, and the Proper Expression Thereof."
  "Sit down to have a quiet meal with the peasants, just to be polite, and 
look what happens!," he fumed. "Why, I've had more fun in a room full of 
recent religious converts than I had with that bunch!  
  "Hell!," he sputtered angrily as he headed for the
transporter room, "The religious fanatics were lots more relaxed and
easy going!" 
  McCoy sighed moodily. It was going to be a long trip.
  Luckily, (or not, depending on your point of view), the transporter
room was relatively close to the dining area he'd chosen. It allowed
McCoy to arrive at the transporter station before Spock, who had also
been summoned and was coming from the more distant Science Section, and just
after Jim Kirk, who, Bones observed once again, could appear instantly at
any location on the ship, regardless of its relative distance from his last
position.  It drove the junior officers nuts.
  "Good," thought McCoy.
  Kirk could tell something was eating McCoy from the energy of his walk
and the irritated expression on his face as the latter came into the
room. He wondered if Bones was still upset about the briefing this
morning and the teasing he'd taken about this assignment.  Whatever it was
Kirk figured he was sure to hear about it--unless he cut McCoy off first.
  There was really no reason to do that, Kirk told himself in the nanosecond 
he had to think before the doctor began venting his frustrations.  
  "Is it just me, Jim, or have you noticed that lately every young officer 
we meet seems to have a stick up his ass?," McCoy demanded.  
  "There you go again, Bones--mincing words," Kirk thought. He glanced 
quickly around the transporter room to confirm they were alone, then looked 
carefully at McCoy and said, "You want to run that by me again?" 
  McCoy would not be put off. "I mean it, Jim. I tell you, this fleet is 
changing--and not for the better. I just listened to almost an hour of 
conversation from the most wooden, self-righteous, pompous bunch of officers 
I have ever had the misfortune to encounter.  Ruined my meal--and you know
that's especially hard to take just now."
  Kirk ignored the dig.  So McCoy _was_ still bugged about this assignment. 
Kirk stood silently as McCoy continued to mutter and fume.  
  "Arrogant twerps!," McCoy grouched.  Kirk raised his eyebrows and tried 
not to smile. "These guys have all the answers, and they don't let the fact 
that they haven't even encountered the questions stand in the way of 
announcing it!" 
  This time Kirk not only smiled, he chuckled softly.  
  "Come on, Bones," he laughed gently. "It's just the hazards of being 
young. I can vaguely recall being somewhat serious, if not to say grim, in 
some distant past of my own.  Lighten up. You're just getting older, that's 
all." 
  "Bah! It's not age, it's attitude. Something is changed in these people, 
Jim.  You were at least on your way to becoming a real human being by the 
time you were a full Lieutenant..." 
  "Why, thank you, " Kirk thought.  
  "These guys," continued McCoy, "think that's an unnecessary and 
unprofessional goal."
  McCoy misinterpreted the source of Kirk's expression and continued.
  "I'm not kidding about this. I just listened to Mister-Full-Lieutenant,
third-in-his-class Karl Murphy share his personal goal of being the
perfect Starfleet officer, which includes, among other inane things,
the intention that he perform his duties with the minimum of personal
expression and individuality.  Only to the extent it's necessary for the 
performance of the task at hand.  Forget the idea that you can be yourself
to the extent that it doesn't get in the way of the mission."  McCoy
assumed an exaggerated pose and began to imitate Murphy.  "'An officer who
unnecessarily diisplays his or her personality in the execution of his
duties is an unprofessional officer'," quoted McCoy.
  "Sounds a little extreme," Kirk agreed. "Maybe he just got carried 
away." 
  "Obviously you have not spent much time with Lt. Murphy," McCoy growled. 
"I'd be delighted if he'd get carried away. If not emotionally, then literally.
Murphy is one over-controlled, cold tin-soldier who operates like a
machine.  He not only doesn't think he has a problem, he actually sees
himself as a model officer, and what's scary is that Fleet does too.  They
even give him high marks in 'understanding human behavior!'  Hell, Jim!
I've never actually seen a full range of human behavior from this guy!  All
he does is recite some damn principle he's memorized!"
  McCoy shook his head in disgust.  "Murphy is what the Fleet thinks of 
as a self-aware young officer! And--God help us--they're all like that! 
What the hell is going on?" 
  A soft swoosh! signaled the opening of the transporter room doors. A
moment later, Science Captain Spock stepped into the room. McCoy turned
toward him, then lowered his brows in sudden suspicion. He gave Spock a
long, hard glare.  
  "That's it," he snarled. "I should have known! It's the damn Vulcans! 
Probably proselytizing among the young!" 
  Spock turned from McCoy to Kirk, his innocent, "Who, me?" look upon his 
face.  
  Kirk gave him the resigned, "Don't ask" look in response as the doors 
opened again to admit Captain of Engineering, Montgomery Scott. McCoy
recognized that the conversation was effectively terminated by these
arrivals, but leaned towards Kirk for one final muttered aside.
  "Mark my words, Jim. It's the creeping Vulcanization of the galaxy 
we're seeing here." 
  One eyebrow went up on the Vulcan's face. Kirk searched for an inoffensive
response and wound up grunting noncommittally.  
  McCoy didn't notice. He was fascinated by his own remarks.  
  Creeping Vulcanization.  McCoy liked the sound of that.  
  "Creeping Vulcanization," he repeated to himself. "That's exactly what it 
is, Jimmy-boy, and you'd better believe it! Guys like us are an endangered 
species in this fleet!" 
  Kirk turned toward his Chief Engineer, smiling brightly, grateful for the
chance to make conversation on another topic.  
  "So, Scotty, to what do we owe the honor of having our Captain of 
Engineering handle a simple, sublight beam-down?" 
  It was the wrong question to ask if he wanted to distract McCoy from his 
mood.  
  "I thought the least I could do was to see our two adventurers off, sir. 
Especially in view of the enthusiasm with which this assignment was greeted 
in certain quarters this morning," the Scot said cheerily, with a nod in 
McCoy's direction.
  Kirk winced as the doctor stiffened. Jim knew Scotty's presence was his
way of offering peace for his part in the teasing Bones had received,
but it wasn't being taken that way.  The doctor *harumphed!* loudly, then 
turned his back on them, obviously cursing his fate.
  Kirk moved to Spock, leaving McCoy to work out his own problem. The two 
friends, human and Vulcan, were soon engaged in an animated discussion of 
the upcoming mission.
  For Captain James Kirk, everything was going _so_ smoothly.  It was hard
for him to believe he had ever even considered retiring--a momentary
aberration of thought that he chalked up to spending too much time
around Headquarters in the months preceeding the Klingon peace initiative.
Desks had always distorted his thinking, he thought.  But since Star Fleet
had no mandatory retirement age, there was nothing and no one forcing him
to go through with his decommissioning when he changed his mind after the
Kittomer Conference.
  His resistance to retirement grew even stronger when he discovered Star
Fleet intended to refit NCC-1701A and send her on the biggest manned 
exploratory mission *ever*.  When the time came for Fleet to select the 
mission's Captain, it seemed a shame to waste all the goodwill and
political stock he'd acquired from the Klingon peace adventure, and Kirk
had skillfully parlayed these factors, plus his experience, into the job.
  Seven years of deep space exploration!  
  James T. Kirk was like a man reborn.  There was no doubt in his mind 
that the months he had spent in command of NCC-1701A on this mission were 
among the best in his life.  He felt relaxed, confident, and rejuvenated--
and it showed. He'd taken off years as well as pounds.  Everyone told him
he looked at least 5 years younger.  Looking at himself in the mirror that
morning, Kirk was pleased to find he agreed with the flattery.
  Not that he still considered age such a bad thing.  No, with his deep 
space command restored, age seemed to Kirk to be a prerequisite for 
experience, and Kirk enjoyed the little daily reminders of his experience 
with starship command. His knowledge of starships and his experience with
life itself, were making this assignment a pure pleasure.  The fact that he
had not only maneuvered himself into this prized assignment, but had also
been able to hand-pick his top people, was a dream come true.
  Who said you can't go home again?  
  Well, of course there were some changes from the old days. This beam-down 
for example. While he'd been desk-bound, Starfleet had established a 
regulation which was known in some quarters as the "James Kirk memorial
no-Captain-in-the-landing-party" rule. Kirk was not amused.  Aside from
unnecessarily cramping his style, "memorials" were for the dead, dammit.
  It was also true that although he was farther out than on his first 
five-year mission, Kirk was disappointed to find that he often had less 
sense of being on the frontier. Improved starship technology and sub-space 
communication had taken away some of the excitement--and independence--of
deep space exploration.  Some people had even started comparing the safety
and ease of starship service to "riding a bus."
  Kirk secretly hoped to someday have some of those people under his command.  
A long way from Earth.  
  But for now, Kirk was letting himself enjoy the mission.  Still, at some 
level, and in spite of his present happiness and ease, he knew change was 
closing in on him.  There was just no way around it: the formidable threesome 
which had seen his first Enterprise through her journeys was coming to an
end.
  He'd managed to lure all his friends away with him one more time--but only 
for part of the mission.  Heck, if he was honest, Kirk had to admit that Sulu 
wasn't really part of the team at all.  He was aboard only because Excelcior 
had lost her most recent Captain to illness, and Enterprise was part of the
long line of ships shuttling Sulu out to assume that command for the
duration of Excelcior's mission.  He'd be gone in a matter of weeks, Kirk
thought.  And eventually he'd take Spock and McCoy with him.
  Spock was aboard as a special case, too.  He had made it clear when he
signed on that he would handle the scientific analysis of the strange
nutrino emissions from this sector, but would return to Vulcan with his
team when that project was completed.  Kirk had the feeling Spock's
interest in getting home was based on more than the desire to follow up on
his scientific work, but, as usual, his friend was closed-mouthed about his
personal interests and plans.
  As for McCoy...Kirk had to admit that talking the doctor into one last trip 
for old time's sake had been one of the best selling jobs of his life, but 
the doctor was obviously ready--and willing--to retire.  It was a step McCoy 
loudly insisted he was irrevocably committed to take when the rendevous
came for Spock and his special scientific team.  That was unless, as the
good doctor was prone to snap, Kirk managed to strand him on some
godforsaken iceburg or hell-hole before then.
  Absent such a disaster, the next time he saw Excelcior and Sulu 18 months 
from now, would be the last time he was likely to work with either Spock 
or McCoy.  Kirk's two friends would move on to the next phase of their lives.  
Kirk would go on with the rest of the mission alone--on what he knew had to
be his last exploratory command.
  He was 61 years old.  When this mission ended he'd be almost 69.  Regula-
tions required a mandatory 5-year minimum layoff between long-range 
explorations of 4 or more years duration.  No matter how Kirk did the math, 
the numbers kept coming up the same:  he'd be almost 75 before his name 
even got back on the eligiblity list for exploratory missions. Even in the 
23rd century, that was considered "too old" for another deep space mission.
Oh, he could finagle another command, Kirk knew, but it would be one that
stayed inside Federation territory and known space.  A milk run, he'd
always called those assignments.
 That was how he was likely to end his days, Kirk thought:  on some Milk Run, 
while Spock probably started a family and McCoy finally got the quiet 
retirement Kirk had always managed to yank away.  They had a little over a 
year left together, Kirk told himself.  Then he pushed all thoughts of the 
future from his conscious mind.  
  Thus far, the six month old mission had been remarkably successful.  
Enterprise had already taken the first long range scans of a large
portion of the Milky Way that was usually obscured from observation by
the intense radiation of the galactic core. It was important work,
especially since the discovery of the hostile life-form imprisoned within
the core meant there would be no short-cuts to the "other side."
  Galactic exploration was going to be a long process of going around the 
core, not through it, Kirk thought as he and Spock discussed their immediate
concerns.  Kirk meant to be sure they all got through it in one piece.
  "I want you to be careful down there, Spock," Kirk said firmly, as he
and Spock went over the upcoming mission.  "It's obvious the Menata
didn't expect anyone to find that probe, and they weren't particularly
thrilled when we did and stopped to say, 'hi'," Kirk reminded his old
friend.
  Spock's brow furrowed as he considered Kirk's concerns.  
  "I agree that the Menata would have strongly prefered to remain anonymous, 
Captain.  Nevertheless, they did agree to this meeting.  For a race as 
concerned with biological contamination as the Menata, such contact is a 
major concession. Their response to our efforts to establish contact
indicates they are responsive to the arguments of science and logic," Spock
explained.  "That being the case, Dr. McCoy and I should be able to
overcome their concerns and satisfy them that face-to-face interaction can
occur in safety."
  "All the same," Kirk repeated, "I want you to be careful.  This is the 
touchiest bunch I've ever dealt with, Spock.  Don't take any unnecessary 
risks," Kirk ordered.  Spock reluctantly indicated assent.  
  Both men knew the negotiations with the Menata had been difficult and 
complex.  The difference between them was that Spock attributed the 
successful negotiation of their meeting to the Menata's deference to 
logic, while Kirk was convinced the result was directly attributable to the
quality of the team he had assembled.
  The lure of another deep space mission had proven irresistable to his old
compatriots, and Kirk had gone out of his way to figure  out how to get
all his veterans back, though not necessarily at their original
assignments.  Lengthy, manned, deep space missions had become so rare that
Star Fleet had accepted his argumeents that the veterans were needed to
develop a new generation of explorers, and acquiesced to his personnel
requests with surprising ease.  Scotty had given up his boat to handle
engineering; Chekov was First Officer; and last, but not least, there was
Uhura.
  Uhura. Kirk had really had to fight to get her aboard. No one at Fleet 
believed the mission required a full Commander of Communications. After 
all, the technology was so reliable now that within 15 years, the 
Communications specialty was expected to undergo major restructuring, if
not complete obsolescence except in its technical design aspect.
  Neither Kirk nor Uhura was supporting the plan to split the technical 
and the cultural/psychological aspects of the Communications job. They 
waged an endless battle against the new thinking, in spite of the clear 
indications that they were going to lose. 
  "Look," they'd said, "with an unknown life-form, machines can
only _translate_, they can't _interpret_. You'll never get a machine that
can automatically analyze all the subtle nuances of a particular
culture's or psychology's communication style--without an officer's
assistance--AND produce an accurate interpretation of the communication,"
they'd said.  "It requires subtle judgments that machines just can't
make."
  "Sure they can, " Starfleet had said. "Even if they can't, we've got it 
covered, because we're training aliens with highly developed senses to tell 
the Captain their impressions of the alien's intentions," Fleet said.
  "This is crazy," Kirk and Uhura'd said. "A good communications officer
makes the adjustments on the equipment that produce an accurate
interpretation so the Captain can draw _his own_ conclusions about that!"
  "Listen," Fleet had said, "Do you know what this means to our budget?
It takes years to train people to make those kinds of creative
decisions AND operate complex technical equipment at the same time! Do
you know what we have to pay for that level of training and expertise?
These new people cost a lot less to train because they're born with the
'skills,' which means they're qualified without a lot of degrees, which
means we can carry a lot more of them on our budget at less cost.  You'll
love them," Fleet said.
  "Oh," Kirk and Uhura had said.  
  The Admiralty had offered Kirk the pick of the first crop of
'Interpreters', but the fellow seemed to moan a lot, and after McCoy
had threatened to "Get some resolution around some bottled up feelings"
if the "little whiner" butted into his business one more time, Kirk had
convinced them to let someone else have the honor of being the first to
employ that particular innovation.
  Kirk had fought for Uhura, and he'd finally gotten her. She'd been worth 
her weight in gold with the Menata. The lady knew a lot about communication 
that wasn't found on a circuit board.  
  Kirk thought about his senior officers fondly, as he waited for the ship 
to enter the Menatan system and drop sublight. All of them had done out-
standing work with the Menata, and Kirk was proud of the team. Still, Kirk 
recalled, glancing at McCoy as the latter checked his medical pack before
the beam-down, everybody wasn't coompletely thrilled with the success of
the effort to establish contact.
  Going through his medical kit one more time, just for something to do, 
Leonard McCoy was far from ecstatic. His disappointing discovery of the 
Starfleet generation gap during dinner had merely been the latest in a 
series of incidents which had steadily soured his day.  As he listened to
Kirk and Spock discuss some aspect of the Menatan concern about biological
contamination, McCoy ruminated on why he'd felt so particularly peeved all
day.
  It wasn't bad enough that he'd gotten shanghied aboard by forgetting that 
Kirk was a firehorse who, at the sound of the 'deep space exploration' bell, 
would take off like a phaser-shot.  He had to put up with the bunch of kids
that comprised most of the crew too!
  The whole damn conversation about Starfleet values had been started by 
one of his passing remarks about the Menata. What really got to him was 
the younger crowd's apparent immunity to what they called 'cultural bias 
and prejudice', and what he called a normal human esthetic response:  as
far as McCoy was concerned, the Menata looked vaguely like a cross between
a large fly (a VERY large fly), and a rat.
  Except that neither flies nor rats were slimy. The Menata were. The 
ship's Chief Medical Officer had nothing against flies, rats,
or slimy things, but he didn't particularly want to hang out with them,
either.  
  Naturally, when Menatan worries about biological contamination from 
contact with Starfleet emerged early in negotiations, Kirk had responded 
by offering a special, pre-delegation visit by his top specialists to 
allay the Menatans' concerns.  Upon hearing this, McCoy had felt he could take 
a pretty good guess who Kirk had in mind for the job, and had set about
developing his own plan for helping the Menata.  By the time he'd gone into
the meeting that morning, McCoy had believed he was ready to finesse his
way out of this asssignment.
  As he reviewed the events of the briefing, McCoy found that, once again, he
was suffering from total recall. Why was it he had always been able to
remember embarrassing events in their entirety, he asked himself, while
pleasant memories seemed to fade too quickly from view?
  Then he remembered:  because he planned to get revenge on each and 
every person who had shanghaied him into this job--particularly, Jim Kirk.  
  McCoy's mind played back the events of the briefing.  Things had been going 
along smoothly, all according to plan...

  "...we will, of course, adjust to this concern by having our advance
team consist of two specialists who will explain our standard
bio-contamination control measures, Captain," Spock stated in his
precise, even way. "I will join the team as Captain of our Science Unit,
both to provide technical information to the Menata, and to impress them
with the seriousness with which we view their concerns."  Spock turned
innocently towards the doctor.  "I believe Dr. McCoy is best qualified  to
discuss the specific content of the medical material we plan to present."
  McCoy shot Spock a suspicious glance.  He wondered if he was being led 
into a trap.  With Spock, you could never tell if you were being set up or 
not until it was too late.  
  Kirk turned to McCoy with a look that told him to pick up the presenta-
tion, and the doctor felt the others' eyes upon him as he entered the most 
critical stage of his plan.  He assumed his most casual air and reminded 
himself to deliver his next remarks as if he were saying the most natural 
thing in the galaxy.
  "Thank you, Spock. The actual presentation to the Menata of the
material I'm about to cover, will be handled by Dr. Christine Chapel..." 
  McCoy's remarks were interrupted by an explosion of snorts from Engineer 
Scott.  Sulu bit the corners of his lips, and Chekov and Uhura exchanged 
glances then quickly lowered their heads.  
  Kirk looked at him coolly, levelly.  McCoy's face burned.  
  "Now just one darned minute," he sputtered. "This is a perfectly legitimate 
point I'm making here!," he protested.  
  The others' reactions became more open.  Kirk simply stared back at him 
with ever-increasing innocence.  
  "Nice try, laddie," Scotty remarked to the doctor out of the corner of 
his mouth, "but I dinna think it's gonna get off the ground." 
  Kirk took a deep breath and looked straight into McCoy's eyes. As they 
went eye-ball to eye-ball, McCoy saw the wicked twinkle Kirk always got 
when Kirk knew he was going to nail somebody, and McCoy knew he was done-for.
Still, the doctor refused to give up without a fight.
  Kirk spoke to McCoy in the quiet tones he always used when he knew the 
other party had no hope of escape.  
  "I had the feeling you might see it that way, but in my opinion, doctor, 
this matter warrants the personal attention of our Chief Medical Officer."
  McCoy lowered his head and tried to take the snarl out of his voice.
  "I don't know what some of you people think is going on...," there was
a genuine risk that some of the observers were going to erupt in actual
laughter, "but everyone in this room has consistently received negative
feedback for failing to delegate more responsibility to subordinates.  I
see this as the perfect opportunity to address that criticism by giving
Chris Chapel the chance she deserves to demonstrate her ability to handle a
medical-diplomatic situation."  He looked around the room and summoned his
dignity.  "I simply believe in sharing these opportunities with my staff."
  "Of course you do, doctor," Kirk soothed, "and we appreciate you for it. 
However, I have already advised the Menata that, in view of their high 
degree of concern on this topic, we will be sending our top medical and 
scientific specialists down as our advance team."  Kirk paused briefly to
let the message sink in and to let McCoy collect himself.  "Now, as you
were saying doctor, you will be covering..." 

  The sound of Uhura announcing over the intercom that they were dropping 
sublight and would be in transporter range of the Menatan system in one 
minute, brought McCoy back to the present.  He gathered his things in a huff.
It was time to see what new torture Kirk and Star Fleet had in store for
him this time.
  Spock and McCoy moved to their positions on the transporter pad, as 
Kirk acknowledged the report.  
  "It's beginning," Kirk thought.  The endless adventure of new contact 
was about to start again. He was ready.  
  McCoy saw the pleasure and excitement in Kirk's face. "He really loves 
this stuff!," McCoy thought, with irrational annoyance.
  They dropped sublight. Scotty adjusted his transporter controls. Spock
stood beside McCoy on the pad, awaiting the opportunity to contact the
Menata in his own, unique, Vulcan form of eagerness.  
  "Ready, gentlemen?," Kirk asked, the crispness in his voice carrying his
anticipation.  
  "For retirement!," McCoy shot back, unwilling to surrender his ill-humor.  
Kirk smiled at the doctor pleasantly, unaffected by his complaints.  
  "Normal people do that, you know?," the doctor barked at him.  "Retire. 
They don't spend their lives zooming around the galaxy, spreading their 
atoms from here to heaven-knows-where, dropping in on every Tom, Dick, and 
Harry who comes along!" 
  Kirk grinned back more broadly. Scotty checked his instruments and 
adjusted the transporter controls. It would be just a moment now.
  McCoy resolved he'd have some effect on Kirk's mood.  "Have you given
any thought to _your_ retirement plans? Eventually, you'll have to, you
know!" 
  Kirk's state wavered momentarily, then recovered.  "Don't worry about me, 
doctor," he replied crisply.  "Whatever I do, I won't be feeding peanuts 
to pigeons in Golden Gate Park." 
  He signalled Scotty to energize, and the familiar screetch! filled the room.
  From his position on the pad, McCoy saw them start to fade, felt the familiar
sickness wash over him. Then, suddenly, he felt sharply worse.  
  "Oh, God," he thought, "it's even worse than I remembered!" 
  The room exploded around him in a shower of multi-colored stars and an
earsplitting hum.  
  And then there was nothing.

END CHAPTER ONE.      (to be continued...)

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From: eisimps@cie.uoregon.edu (Eileen Simpson)
Subject: The Great American Star Trek Novel, Ch. 2
Message-ID: <1992Aug29.012114.15369@nntp.uoregon.edu>
Summary: This is really just  a tin can in space, ya know...
Sender: news@nntp.uoregon.edu
Organization: University of Oregon Campus Information Exchange
Date: Sat, 29 Aug 92 01:21:14 GMT
Lines: 737

   The Great American Star Trek Novel, "Where No *Man* Has Gone Before"
Being an Account of the Last Voyage of Exploration of Captain James T. Kirk

A S.O.F.T presentation.
Copyright E.G. Simpson, 1989, as to all original characters and story.  Not
intended  to conflict with Paramount copyright.


                                CHAPTER TWO

                              ****************
  He had no idea how long he floated before awareness began to 
return. Indeed, even as he began to notice aspects of his experience, 
he was far from certain who he was, but he felt no worry or need to 
do anything about it.
  There was sound. It was unlike anything he had heard before--at once 
low and sustained as well as high-pitched and tinkling, like 
bells. There were no individual notes to this music. Only an 
impossibly unified sensation of things he knew to be different.
  The sound tickled, and he began to laugh. His laughter billowed about 
him, joining the sound he had heard before and producing a blossom 
of inconceivably vivid color.  He was quickly enclosed within it.  The 
experience awed and startled him, and he shrieked with pleasure at 
his discovery.
  His reaction produced another burst of intense hues, with tones and 
nuances far beyond anything he had ever seen on any alien world or 
any artist's rendering of the wildest flights of imagination. His eyes 
had never seen the like.
  Then he realized no human eyes were recording this sight, although 
he was obviously registering the experience.
  He wondered what had happened to his body, then laughed at the 
thought. It was unimportant. He could hear the magical laughter of 
the bells, see the colors. It was enough.
  But there was more.
  The part of himself that produced the colors when he laughed, the 
part that felt the tinkling of the bells, seemed to throb at the core of 
some consciousness that was at once his own, and yet connected to 
some much larger self. This larger self produced its own music, that 
blended and pulsed with his. It produced its own colors, its own 
laughter. It was...itself. And yet, it was everything.
  Including him. This larger self felt his music, knew his laughter. It 
was part of him, he knew that, and yet it was not a function of his 
ego.  It was a totally unique experience. 
  He realized that for the first time, he was not alone. Not isolated in 
his solitary human existence. Not set apart by the burdens of 
command. Paradoxically, he was suddenly intensely frightened.
  "The ship!," his thoughts cried out. He could not remain in this 
child-like trance--he was responsible for his ship and crew. God only 
knew what was happening to them! He had to break free of 
whatever had overcome him, had to protect the people who were 
counting on his leadership.
  As he struggled to break free, the patterns around him took on a 
different texture. He still sensed the presence of the other, only 
now, it was more separate. He experienced confusion and alarm, a 
sudden awareness of error.
  Whether it was his own guilt he was experiencing over his failure to 
foresee this event, or someone else's remorse for a hasty action, he 
was fully aware of profound sadness and regret, and a benevolent 
desire to rectify things as much as possible.
  He resisted the feelings of oneness and connection, and willed 
himself to separate.
  "I must get back in command!, " he insisted.
  The bond broke cleanly.

                               *************

  James Kirk returned to awareness and found himself on the 
transporter room floor. Scotty lay quietly beside him, obviously still 
breathing and apparently uninjured. Spock and McCoy lay silently on 
the transporter pad.
  _What the hell happened? Transporter malfunction?_
  Kirk moved quickly to the two figures on the pad. Vulcans were 
vulnerable to a host of complications from transporter power-surges. 
Spock needed to be checked out--fast. Kirk struggled over two his 
friends, calling for help as he moved.
  _Why was there no answer? Had they blown the intercom circuits, 
too?_
  He reached the pad. McCoy seemed to be in the same state as Scotty: 
no visible injuries or distress, unconscious, and a blank expression on 
his face. "A trance," Kirk observed.
  Spock lay silently on his side, his back to Kirk.
  "Spock! Spock!," Kirk called to his friend urgently, as he turned the 
Vulcan over.
  The look on Spock's face astonished and alarmed him. It was the 
most relaxed Kirk had ever seen his friend, with an appearance of 
innocent wonder that seemed entirely out of place. Spock's eyes were 
open, and moved as if absorbed by some invisible display. Kirk 
yelled again for assistance, cursing the silence that answered his 
pleas.
  He turned to McCoy, shaking the latter awake, forcing him out of his 
trance. The doctor began to respond, pulled himself up on one elbow.
  "Wha...?"
  "Never mind that! You have a patient, doctor. Spock's down. 
Something went wrong just after we energized..."
  McCoy's brain registered the medical implications of the situation. He 
pulled himself together and turned toward Spock. Simultaneously, 
every alarm on the ship seemed to go off, as if she, too, was just 
coming out of some strange dream, and had found herself distressed 
by what she found when she awoke.
  Kirk pulled himself away from the pad. "Scotty!," he shouted toward 
his Chief Engineer, as he did his duty as Captain, and headed for the 
bridge. "Bones! Do everything you can to get them up and moving!" 
  Kirk felt something in this emergency, something saying it was more 
urgent than anything he had ever faced. "I need these people!"
  He was out the door, struggling to an intercom panel. He hit the 
command override. "Red Alert! Red Alert! This is not a drill.
This is not a drill!"
  James T. Kirk raced for his bridge.

  All hell had broken loose. People were running for emergency 
positions at break-neck speed.
  Scotty struggled into a turbolift, heading for Engineering, and almost 
caught McCoy between the doors.
  "Where in blazes are you heading? This isn't going to Sickbay!"
  "Heavy casualties...Engineering," McCoy panted.
  "Damn!" The lift began to move. "What about Spock?"
  "The scanner says he's not in immediate danger. Whatever he's got, 
there's nothing I can do for it now, not when..."
  The lift lurched to a halt. Scotty swore again.
  "The mains are off-line," he announced tersely. Scotty waited, 
expectantly, for Auxiliary power to cut in and restart the lift.
  Nothing happened.
  The lighting flickered, and momentarily went out. Simultaneously, 
McCoy had a sudden feeling of nausea. He realized the artificial 
gravity had flickered as well.
  It was bad. Real bad. McCoy's stomach reacted again, this time from 
fear.
  Scotty yanked open the escape hatch at the top of the lift, swearing 
great Celtic oaths. The gist of it was that he was too old for all this, 
but McCoy knew Scotty was furious because his bairns needed him, 
and he wasn't there.
  Scotty had the hatch clear.
  "Come on!," he shouted, "we're gonna climb!" He scrambled out the 
hatch with an agility that astounded McCoy, and paused just long 
enough to grab the latter's arm and pull him up.
  "The things some people will do to avoid an assignment!," Scott 
barked at his old shore-leave buddy, as the doctor struggled to the 
top of the lift. Before McCoy could respond, Scotty was gone up the 
lift tube, running a maze that led to Engineering.

  The lift failed just outside the bridge. Kirk tripped the manual 
override, forced open the doors, and leveraged himself up the last 
few meters onto the bridge.
  To his trained eye, it was chaos: everything was in its proper place, 
nothing emitted any sparks or flames, no one was bleeding--but that 
just added to the eeriness of the scene. The viewscreen was blank. 
Virtually every system that wasn't obviously burned out, flashed an 
alarm. Every officer was at his or her station, in varying degrees of 
awareness, struggling to respond. Uhura, at the communications 
station, seemed to be coming around. 
  One person moved rapidly and deliberately about the bridge, 
assessing the situation as if it were an Academy efficiency test. It 
was Murphy, Kirk noted, McCoy's nemesis of just a short time before.
  "Status, Mr. Murphy!" Kirk moved quickly to the Captain's station, 
inspecting it and the helm/navigation console.
  "We are severely damaged, sir," the young man responded crisply. 
"The mains are off-line, and from the condition of the lift, emergency 
power has also failed. As far as I can tell, we're not receiving any 
operational reports from the Divisions in the dorsal or Engineering."
  Even through his alarm, Kirk found the compulsive precision of the 
report annoying. Damage control reports were supposed to begin 
with the most serious problem. The loss of power was certainly the 
most serious problem, but also the most obvious. Kirk was furious at 
the young officer's waste of time.
  "Stick to things any idiot wouldn't already know, Mister, and make 
this fast!"
  Murphy barely paused, but speeded up. "We may not have 
navigational sensors, in fact, we may not have any sensors at all. 
From what I've seen, it appears that everything that was on-line 
when we got hit, or that had an automatic trigger to come on as a 
back-up, has been burned out."
  "You're saying we're blind as a bat?," Kirk interrupted incredulously.
  "Yes sir. I believe so, sir."
  Kirk's hands flew over the helm and navigational panels. Murphy 
assisted him in the evaluation.
  "What's our course and speed?," Kirk asked Murphy in alarm, as he 
realized he couldn't pull up any data.
  Murphy shook his head. "Unknown, sir. They cannot be determined 
from the systems presently operative."
  The quick inspection of the helm stations confirmed Kirk's worst 
fears: unless Auxiliary Control was in better shape than they were, 
the ship was out of control with a planet full of people nearby. God, 
the beam-out was timed for before they went into orbit! They were 
still on approach! 
  Kirk's pulse rate shot even higher. He hit the communications pad on 
the command chair, and franticly signalled Aux Control.
  There was no response. What the hell did he do now?
  _The research pod._
  Kirk grabbed Murphy by the arm and propelled him toward the exit.
  "You get your butt into the research pod, Lieutenant. I don't care how 
you do it or what it takes. You get yourself in there and turn on it's 
sensors and do whatever it takes to get us the data we need to 
navigate and assess our condition. We need eyes!" Murphy was 
nodding; he understood. Kirk turned him loose, and the younger man 
took off like a shot.
  "Grab a communicator!," Kirk yelled to him before Murphy hit the 
door. "Don't rely on internal communications!" 
  If they were lucky, the sensor burn-out was limited to the systems 
that were operational when they were hit, and the pod's manually 
activated sensor system was still intact. Nothing said it had to be that 
way, but they had to try.
  Kirk turned to the next task. What was going on with internal 
communications? Where were the damn Damage reports?  Was it just 
Uhura's disorientation, or...
  "Uhura! Damage control! Report!"
  Uhura was back in control, repairing her station, working with the 
little operative equipment she had.
  "I'm sorry, Captain. There's very little information available. Internal 
communications have failed in most of the ship."  She struggled to get 
information from her panel.  "It's almost like what they used to call a 
'brown out'. What I'm getting is coming through very weakly on 
secondary channels. It looks like the saucer section has sustained 
only minor damage." Her voice became more stressed. "I can't get 
anything from the dorsal, or from engineering, sir."
  As Kirk digested this information, the doors to the second bridge lift 
opened, and Sulu and several other officers raced out. It was a 
good sign. The lifts to the bridge had a separate emergency power 
supply, and were designed to remain operational except in the most 
extreme circumstances. That this power had failed, even temporarily, 
was highly distressing. That it was now restored was the first 
hopeful thing Kirk had encountered.
  "Sulu! Get to the helm!  See what you can do with it!" Kirk turned 
back towards Uhura. "I'd say Scotty is still with us," Kirk remarked to 
her, indicating the working lifts. "Give priority to repairs that will 
allow us to communicate with the man in the pod."
  Sulu was at the helm, inspecting the situation. How long did they 
have, Kirk wondered--before Murphy got to the pod, that little 
research station out on their underbelly, near the outer rim of the 
saucer?--before he found out if the pod's sensors were operational?-
-before they went through Menata's atmosphere, and the anti-matter 
went up? 
  Christ! Estimating their current position from their course and speed 
at the beam-down coordinates, he couldn't even initiate a destruct 
sequence and save the Menatans, not if the ship was still on a 
planetary approach.  _Contamination_ worries...
  Sulu reported in quickly.
  "Helm control is inoperative, Captain. Manual override is operational, 
but useless without any navigational data and course readouts. I 
might extrapolate from where we were when the effect hit," Sulu 
mused. "bring back the readouts from our last position and make an 
educated guess on where we are, now, how fast our momentum is 
taking us, how much adjustment to make..."
  Kirk knew the man was desperate to avoid the planet.  "Those are an 
awful lot of guesses, Sulu. If we're not on our original course..." The 
look on Sulu's face said it all: if Kirk had a better idea...  "Do 
it," Kirk 
ordered. "Make it fast, but make it your most educated guess."
  Kirk turned back to take the damage reports. There was nothing new. 
The only data coming in was from units in the saucer, there was 
nothing from the Engineering sections where the problems were 
obviously severe. He was blind up here, and without the information 
he needed to make even the most simple decisions.
  The doors opened and a breathless young Ensign stepped out. Kirk 
recognized him as Pavarti, a newcomer who was assigned to a 
position far down the chain of command, and normally far from the 
bridge. He was bright enough, Kirk recalled, but was proving to be an 
under-achiever. Constantly second-guessed himself. McCoy had 
reported that he needed watching and development, and might 
ultimately prove unsuited for Starfleet.
  "What are you doing on the bridge, Mister?"
  "Cmdr. Chekov's compliments," Pavarti breathlessly reported. 
"Internal communications appear to be out, sir.  In view of the seriousness
of the situation, sir, he went straight to aux control.  He advises he has 
established a system of runners until communications can be restored. He 
had me bring you some communicators. They're still operational." 
  Pavel was on the ball as usual, Kirk noted with relief. Pavarti 
continued his report. 
  "He wants you to know the systems in Aux Control are badly 
damaged and the ship cannot be handled from there. We have no 
sensors, no helm control, and our back-ups are out. There may be 
damage to the computer core, and he wants to confer with Science 
Chief Spock on that problem by communicator."
  The youngster paused for breath, and his hands and arms shook, but 
he went on. 
  "Cmdr. Chekov advises that our manual overrides are operational, 
but we don't have the data we need to use them. Unless things are 
significantly worse here, sir, he believes there is nothing to be gained 
by abandoning the bridge in favor of Aux Control." 
  Kirk could hear Pavarti's voice shaking.
  "Sir, the systems failures are severely affecting our ability to assess 
damage to the ship and mount a response," Pavarti continued 
hesitantly. "It's hard to tell what's going on, sir. On the way here, I 
heard that the Mains are down because there isn't any anti-matter."
  *"What?!*," Kirk's brain shouted. He remained outwardly composed. 
"Who reported that, Mister?"
  "I'm not sure, sir, it was one of the medics I passed.  He said it was a 
mess in Engineering, and that the anti-matter just seemed to be 
gone."
  Kirk snorted in disgust. "I can pretty well discount that rumor, 
Mister." It would require a break in the containment system to 
entirely deplete their anti-matter reserves. If that had happened, 
they wouldn't be having this conversation. Jeez!, the kid was really 
rattled. 
  "Confine your report to official information, Mister. No rumors. There 
are bound to be dozens in a situation like this."  _Who the hell came 
up with that one??_, Kirk thought.
  "Sulu!," Kirk turned to his former helmsman. He had hoped Murphy 
would have reported in by now. "How much longer?" They had to be 
getting impossibly close to the planet, even at sublight speed.
  "Almost there. Another few minutes."
  "The Menata may not have a few minutes, Sulu!  We need to move, 
soon." 
  Kirk considered the communicator in his hand. The trouble with 
them was that they had so damn few channels, and none of those 
were private. He didn't want the whole ship hearing every damage 
report that came in. He adjusted the control to "full-band" and 
broadcast on all channels, to all units.
  "This is the Captain. Internal communications have temporarily 
failed. Restoration is underway. Until then, Channel 1 and 2 are 
reserved for direct communication with the bridge, subject to my 
personal control. All other channels will be under the assignment of 
Cmdr. Chekov in damage control. Use of the communicators shall be 
in response to direction from the bridge or damage control, or at the 
direct instruction of the Department head. Engineering! Report to the 
bridge on channel 1."
  "Sir!," Uhura interrupted. "I have Lt. Murphy, sir! He's in the pod!" 
Uhura listened carefully to her headset. "He recommends you take 
no, repeat, no immediate action with regard to course and speed. No 
immediate danger is apparent. He will provide further information 
ASAP. Murphy, out."
  Kirk and Sulu looked at each other in relief. While the report was 
cryptic, it was clear enough that Murphy hadn't looked out the pod 
window and seen a planet coming up, fast. They had at least some 
room to breathe--on that one.
  There was still no answer from Engineering. Or Scotty. Maybe 
Chekov's runners hadn't made their way to him yet. With the lifts 
down, this was a very big ship. Kirk saw Pavarti standing around 
nervously, and decided to make use of him to inform Pavel of some 
things he didn't want broadcast over the communicator.
  "Tell Cmdr. Chekov we will be remaining on the bridge, that our 
sensors and helm controls are also out, that we'll be running on 
manual for anything he can name, and that we've got a man in the 
research pod who will be available for damage assessment 
and control just as soon as we've established our position."  Kirk's 
voice was controlled, but he gunned out the information. "We'll 
communicate with the pod on Channel 2. Tell him to monitor that 
channel and not to bother the man in the pod until he's reported in 
on what we need to do to avoid a collision with Menata." 
  Pavarti paused a moment to absorb it all. 
  "Go!,"  Kirk spat.
  He called Engineering again. No response. He sent an urgent all-
channel call for Scotty to report to the bridge on Channel 1.
  This time a tech answered, obviously stressed, and to the 
accompaniment of chaotic background noise.
  "Captain!  Engineer Scott told me to make his report."
  "Is he hurt?" Kirk knew he couldn't afford to lose Scotty.
  "No, sir. He's--completely occupied with the fire, sir."  The boy was 
terrified.
  "Get me the Chief Engineer." 
  There were more sounds of chaos, of desperate voices. Finally, 
Scotty's familiar brogue came over the communicator.
  "Captain! I can only give you a moment!  We're in trouble down 
here!"
  "Where are you?  Give me a report.  We have no data on your 
section, Engineer."
  Kirk thought he heard an angry sob from his Chief Engineer.
  "I'm in the dorsal, fighting the fire!  Where else would I be?"
  Kirk spoke as calmly and distinctly as he could to the man.
  "Scotty, we've had major systems failures. We are unaware of a fire. 
We are unaware of your status. We have no information on the 
condition of any sections of the ship or its personnel below Level 3, 
dorsal. Give me your report."
  The Engineer spoke quickly.
  "We can't get any power, and we can't get any current data. This is a 
guess from what the records show before the power spiked and cut 
out." Scotty's voice was urgent. He wanted to be working on the 
crisis, not talking about it. "Something converted all the anti-matter 
in our system. That's why the Mains shut down: the anti-matter is 
gone."
  Kirk went numb. Scotty continued, giving Kirk the information he 
would need if the bridge was blind.
  "When that happened, the Impulse system was already operational. I think the
impulse system was working 
perfectly, but as I see it, the shock of the sudden conversion of that 
much fuel, must have overwhelmed the primary power conducting 
system. The super-conductive system just plain failed.  What's left of 
it's slag.  The Impulse reactors shut down because there's nothing 
left that can conduct their power."
  Kirk waited impatiently while Scotty dealt with some acute 
emergency. Things were becoming clearer. At least he knew why 
they didn't have power.  What Kirk was sure of, as he waited for the 
rest of Scotty's report, was that he was running on the battery and, 
at best, what power they could generate was dribbling to the ship's 
systems through secondary, less conductive lines.
  He couldn't fight a fire in that condition! 
  But why were they on fire, and why couldn't they reach the lower 
dorsal or the Engineering decks? He forced himself to remain calm.
  "Scotty! Why are we on fire?"
  There was grief and rage in Scotty's voice when he answered.
  "I don't know!  The energy that destroyed the superconductive system had
to be enormous, and must've put out tremendous heat!  It could be a 
problem with the main engines, though.  I just don't know yet!
We can't get to them, and we can't get any information on their 
condition!"
  No wonder that Tech was scared.  Kirk was scared.  Anyone but a 
damn fool would be scared. Trouble was, the Tech didn't know the 
half of it: without sensors and communications, Command hadn't 
even known of the fire, how the hell could they put it out?
  Kirk forced his mind to quiet.
  "Understood, Scotty. Do what you can. We'll get you help as soon as 
possible. Kirk out."
  He needed information, fast!
  "Uhura! What's the status on communications with that pod?," he 
demanded.
  "I have Lt. Murphy on the line, sir. He says the pod's systems have 
activated. He'll have navigational data momentarily." Uhura's voice 
was urgent, too. "Once I replace a few more circuits we'll be able to 
tie the pod's computer into a Daystrom micro-unit I've had brought 
to the bridge. Tying into the mainframe will take a bit longer."
  Considering the damage, Uhura had already accomplished a lot. That 
didn't change the fact that Kirk had to ask for more.
  "Tell Murphy to move it! We need damage control information as 
desperately as we need to navigate!"
  "Aye, sir!" Uhura turned back to her panel.  Kirk started to pace, then 
stopped himself.  There was nothing he could do, but he wouldn't let 
the crew see his distress.  He turned toward his command chair to sit.
  _Whoosh!_  The bridge elevator opened and Spock stepped out.
  Insanely, considering their situation, Kirk was flooded with relief at 
knowing his friend was alright. Alright? No one on the ship was 
alright!
  Kirk immediately moved toward his friend.  Spock was a study in 
control, normal enough for a Vulcan, but something in Spock's 
manner told Kirk this was a facade.  Perhaps it was his stiffness, or 
the way Spock avoided Kirk's eyes as he moved to his station, but 
Kirk knew something was deeply affecting the Vulcan.
  Kirk's relief became quiet concern.  "Spock..."
  "Yes, Captain.  I will have a report for you momentarily."
  "I'm most concerned about you right now."
  "I am quite well, Captain," Spock said simply, with a formality that 
gave lie to his words.  "I am distressed that I failed to execute my 
duties efficiently at the outset of this crisis, however, I am now able 
to do so. You are, of course, aware of the sensor failure?"
  It was an obvious question. Kirk nodded affirmative--both to answer 
the inquiry and to indicate his acceptance, for now, of how Spock 
wanted to handle his condition.
  "I'll bring you up to date on what we know about our situation, 
Spock," Kirk volunteered.  "We can't determine our course or speed.  
Main power has failed because the anti-matter is gone.  Auxiliary is 
out because the conductive system has failed. . ."
  As he recited the litany of horrors affecting his ship, Kirk found 
himself alternating between controlled fear and a desire to laugh at 
the impossibility of their situation.  It was stress, he reminded 
himself. It was his enemy and he'd need to be aware of it as he 
continued.  He finished summing up their situation quickly, and took 
a deep breath.
  "...and as one final problem, Chekov thinks there may be something 
wrong with the computer.  Check it out and let me know what you 
find."
  "Captain!  Lt. Murphy is reporting in!"
  "Sir! Murphy here." The young man's voice came clearly over the 
communicator. "You're alright. You're traveling on momentum at 0.6, 
sublight, gradual deceleration. There are no navigational hazards 
ahead. You can safely maintain this course until navigational 
readouts are restored."
 "One down," Kirk thought. He raised the communicator. "Murphy, how 
close are we to Menata?"
  The pause was just an instant too long, and Kirk knew he was getting 
bad news before he heard Murphy's answer.
  "There's no sign of Menata, sir.  We're at the outer edge of a system, 
Captain, but its not the Menatan system, nor any one in their area. 
I've checked the charts I have sir, and there's no known navigational 
reference that corresponds to the data I have from my scans." 
  Murphy paused. "I don't know where we are, sir, but the main 
computer should be able to tell us."
  "Stand by on that, Lieutenant, and rig to scan the ship for damage 
control. Focus on the Dorsal and Engineering sections."  Kirk turned to 
Spock.  "How about it, Spock. Is the computer reliable?"
  Spock frowned.  "It is correctly processing test data and equations. 
Nevertheless, there are subtle, but definate abnormalities in my 
readings, Captain. The precise problem escapes my analysis, but after 
careful consideration, I believe our present emergency outweighs 
any risks I am able to identify.  I will monitor the situation closely."
  Kirk turned back to the communicator in his hand.  "Lieutenant, 
download your information to the bridge, as per Cmdr. Uhura's 
instructions, then render immediate and full assistance to damage 
control.  Report on Channel 2.  I will monitor.  Kirk out."
  It was less than 15 minutes since Kirk had forced his way onto the 
bridge.  He felt useless.
  Murphy's reports on the Engineering section were chilling.  Main 
Engineering might not be technically in flames, but as Kirk listened to 
the numbers on the temperature in the section, he decided he may as 
well be dealing with a small sun inside his ship.  Whatever had 
happened as a result of the disorienting episode they'd experienced 
had occurred very quickly, without warning. A few emergency doors 
in the lower level had closed, but plasma from some source had 
obviously boiled through Main Engineering simultaneously with the 
event, creating an inferno that quickly seared everyone and 
everything within.
  The temperature of the 'fire' was incredible.  They were a good 400 
degrees over what everyone said was the upper-limit of a survivable 
shipboard fire. At these temperatures the ship's internal structural 
materials, even in the reinforced Engineering section, would warp 
and break down. Some had ignited. Kirk knew elements of their 
damage control system had undoubtedly failed from the extreme 
heat. He was going to take casualties from asphyxiation. Shield doors 
or not, no one was alive in Engineering, and damn few would survive 
very long on the lower levels.
  _He was going to lose the ship._
  He considered cracking off the main saucer. It wasn't part of this 
design, but in desperate situations others had tried it. Sometimes it 
worked. But it took power, and he couldn't get enough power to 
where he needed it to make the attempt.
 _He was going to lose the ship._
  "Like hell!," he thought. The event that caused this was over now. 
It wasn't pouring fresh plasma into the inferno.  What he had to do 
was find a way to reduce the heat trapped inside the heavy, 
reinforced lower hull and the insullating qualities of space itself.  He 
had to look at the data, find a way to vent the heat, cut off the fire's 
oxygen, and get the temperatures down to a level Chekov and Scotty 
could deal with.
  Kirk quickly reviewed the displays Spock was putting together from 
the pod's data.  An idea began to form.  It might be 'luck' that most 
of the emergency doors hadn't closed. It gave him an open cavern of 
an area to work with to attack the fire, just as much as it gave the 
fire a clear run of the lower level. Kirk looked for how to exploit the 
situation, turn it to his advantage.
  The vertical intermix chamber. He could place charges to tap in at the 
base of the dorsal and vent both the dorsal and forward Engineering 
into the hard vacuum of space.  If depressurization didn't draw off 
enough heat they could force inert gas through the area to conduct 
the heat away from the ship. It would help Chekov and Scotty's fire 
control parties advance down the dorsal, even if they did have to 
wear pressure suits. Hell, no one was fighting that fire in duty 
fatigues--not for very long anyway.
  He focused intently on the display. The intermix chamber wouldn't 
be enough. His brows knitted. To do the job fully, he'd have to 
simultaneously blow out the bulkheads at the rear of Engineering. 
He'd have to go thru the shuttle bay. A few charges, correctly placed, would 
weaken 
the internal bulkhead enough that the inferno's own pressure would break 
through the damaged structure. The pincer action on the fire would 
explode their self-contained hell into the vacuum of space from both 
ends. If they could pump enough gas through the area they might 
snuff the damn thing out. It would give them a chance.
  He had the plan. Now he had to figure out how to implement it. He'd 
have to suit up and maneuver manually outside the ship to place the 
charges. With its shield doors closed, the shuttle-bay was accessible 
only through Engineering or by someone outside the ship entering 
the bay through its airlock. If there was enough power, they'd open 
the bay doors. If not, they'd have to blow the bay doors, too. Damn! 
They were going to lose the shuttles. It would make it damn hard to 
abandon ship.
  Then he'd just have to save her, Kirk decided. He spun around and 
headed toward the elevator, just as Pavarti came out the door. Kirk 
grabbed him by the arm.
  "You're coming with me, Mister," Kirk snapped.  RSulu!  You have the 
con."
  He relayed his plan to Chekov and Scotty as he raced through the 
decks toward an airlock. The crew began falling back from its fire-
line in the dorsal, moving into the saucer section and securing for the 
desperate gamble. This was it. Everyone understood the situation.
  Including Pavarti. As he raced through the ship beside his legendary 
Captain, Pavarti's predominant reaction was that he couldn't believe 
Kirk was taking him into this. It was crazy. He wished frantically that 
Kirk to realize what he was doing and grab someone else for the job: 
Pavarti wasn't afraid of dying, he was afraid of screwing up, of 
blowing it, now, when everyone's lives depended on him, and killing 
everyone else. He'd botch the job, he was sure of it.
  Kirk arrived at the airlock a few minutes after Chekov and his team. 
They were putting on pressure suits for the dangerous, untethered 
spacewalks ahead.
  Chekov had listened carefully to Kirk's description of his plan.  He 
understood it completely, and he agreed--except with the part where 
the Captain put on a spacesuit and made an untethered trip the 
length of the ship to rupture the shuttle-bay hull.  It didn't wash. 
  Chekov wasn't letting him off the ship.
  "Dammit, Mister, when this is over, you can consider yourself under 
arrest!  I don't have time to debate you! In case you haven't noticed, 
there's a war on--a war for this ship!"
  "I hev noticed, sair," Chekov snarled back, continuing to climb into 
his suit.  "Thet is vhy it is imperative thet the Kepten remain with 
the ship. You are not expendable, sair.  As Executive Officer, I 
am more expendable.  As former Damage Control Officer, I am more
qualified, sair."
  "You need a simultaneous detonation, dammit!  Two teams! You can't lead
both, now give me a suit!," Kirk demanded.
  "I'll lead the second team."  It was Scotty.  "I know where to place 
your charges better than anyone."  He pushed through and grabbed a 
suit.  Kirk was stumped.  They were right, this wasn't his job.
  "All right," he told Chekov.  "Get going, and good luck!"

  Back on the bridge, Kirk felt worse than helpless, he felt useless.  He 
had no idea what he had contributed to their response to the 
emergency.  And that scene with Chekov--inappropriate, Kirk chided 
himself.
  The pressure on Kirk was enormous.  He had too little to do and too 
much time to think.  Periodically, the voices of Scotty's and Chekov's 
teams came through the communicator.  
  Chekov's team had farther to go, they had drawn the more dangerous 
and difficult task of traversing the length of the Engineering section. 
Terse, tense, they spoke infrequently as they worked their way along 
the body of the ship.  They moved quickly and carefully until finally 
they reached the shuttle-bay airlock.

  Scotty and Pavarti did the easy job first. They placed their charges nearest
the top of the dorsal, then moved downward, toward the base of the 
strut where it joined the Engineering sections. Pavarti breathed more 
heavily in his suit than did the older man. It was dangerous to move 
untethered outside a moving vessel under ordinary conditions, when 
one could touch the ship's skin for support.  Pavarti and Scotty dared 
not come into contact with the exterior of the ship, especially as they 
moved closer to the base of the dorsal, and the site of the fire.  
Placing the last charge was going to be tricky, but no trickier than 
how they were going to escape the blast of the charge and the 
explosive decompression of hot gases that would follow.  Pavarti 
tried not to think about it.

  Kirk clenched his teeth as Chekov's team prepared to enter the bay.  
No one was entirely certain of the conditions they would find:  The 
bay's angle from the pod, the location of the pod's sensors, meant the 
readings from the pod weren't precise.  They knew the bulkheads between 
Engineering and the bay hadn't ruptured, but they didn't know what else 
Chekov's team would encounter, including whether they'd be able to 
open the shield-doors, or if they'd have to blow them.  The shield 
doors were reinforced, if they didn't open they'd be damn hard to 
blow without major problems...

  Chekov's team found the airlock controls inoperative, and hooked up 
their external power.  The outer lock hatch finally yielded, and the 
team moved inside.  Time was critical.  They worked quickly to open 
the interior hatch, ready to enter the bay.
  Pavel scanned the area quickly as the hatch swung open.  He could 
see waves of intense heat radiating from the deck.  Warped and 
melted equipment was plainly visible around him.
  This was going to be tricky--with the bay's shield-doors closed, the 
area was pressurized. To move to the bay's control panels without 
touching the deck they would have to use precious suit-power to 
hover.
  Chekov evaluated the situation, and decided against trying to make it 
into the bayUs control center.  It was too far away, and if the power 
was out, they'd just have to go back to the overrides.  He signalled 
his team to stay put. Chekov pushed out into the bay, maneuvering 
carefully to the manual overrides near the great shield doors 
themselves, using his suit controls to keep himself off the deck, like 
an anti-grav unit.
  The overrides were undamaged.  He vented the bay's remaining 
atmosphere quickly, then pulled hard on the shield-door override.  
  The heavy shielding began to move.  The doors were going to open!  
As the pressure gage hit 'zero gravity' he signalled his team to move 
out from the airlock, knowing they could now work with less drain 
on their suits.  They would need all the help they could get.
  And speaking of help, the cooperation of the bay doors meant he had 
three members of his team with nothing to do while the others set 
the bulkhead charges.  Pavel eyed the shuttles carefully and 
signalled his people.

  Out on the dorsal, Scotty was checking Pavarti's last charges.  The 
Engineer had been silent most of the mission, speaking only when 
absolutely necessary, and then only in monosyllables.  He finished up 
his inspection with a grunt.  Pavarti took this as a good sign, and 
waited to find out what they did next.
  Well, he hadn't screwed up, he thought with satisfaction.  If he had, 
the Engineer would have caught it.  Of course, he was going to die in 
the blast when the charges went off, but at least he hadn't screwed 
up.  He wondered what officers did when they'd done everything 
they needed to do, everything they could do, and it wasn't quite time 
for them to die yet.  Was there some appropriate way to spend the 
time?
  "Laddie."  Scotty's brogue interrupted his reverie.  "I suppose you'd 
be wondering, how we're gonna get out of this wee mess we're in.  
Now, you just listen carefully and do everything I say..."

  On the bridge, it was clear the readings were reaching the point of no 
return.  The charges were finally in place, it was his people who 
weren't clear.  Spock alerted Kirk tersely: It was now or never.  Kirk 
reluctantly agreed.
  "Chekov!  Scotty!  We can't wait any longer!  We've got to detonate!  
Ten seconds, counting down from my mark. Ten, Nine, Eight..." 
  Kirk said silent prayers for the shipmates fleeing the charges, for his 
ship, for the crew.  He counted down in a firm, clear voice.  
  At zero, he detonated the charges himself.  
  The sound of the explosions didn't carry through the vacuum of 
space.  He set his jaw and waited for the report from Murphy's 
sensors in the pod.

  "That's it, sir! It's working!," Murphy shouted.  "We're visibly venting
intense heat!"
  Kirk interrupted Murphy's report.  "Get Science Chief Spock hard 
data, Mr. Murphy, ASAP."  Kirk needed to know if it was enough, or if 
he had just blown a few worthless holes in his ship before he lost 
her.
  Spock waited patiently for the data, reviewed it, correlated it.  Kirk 
tried not to hover.  Finally, it was clear Spock had the verdict.
  "It appears your strategy has been successful, Captain.  The fire no 
longer endangers the ship."  Kirk's face momentarily registered relief 
at their success, then he focused on the next task.  They were not out 
of the woods yet.
  "Captain!" It was Uhura.  She sounded happy again.  "I have Cmdr. 
Chekov, sir. His team is safe, and, Captain--they saved four shuttles!"  
  Her face fell and her voice changed.  "They cannot locate Scotty, sir, 
or the Ensign. They'll continue to search, but. .."
  Uhura stopped abruptly. Her faced registered shock, then joy, then 
anger.
  "Sir!  The Chief Engineer has been located, along with Ensign Pavarti.  
They are safe and sound."  Uhura was more than a little miffed that 
Scotty had not called in sooner to tell her he was alright.
  Kirk had no time for those 'problems.'  He had bought them a chance.  
He had to bring it home.

  Kirk no longer had any sense of time.  He was simply aware that he 
wasn't stopping, no one was stopping, until the ship was secure.  He 
knew they were gaining, that more power was becoming available, 
more systems brought back on line.  He was almost ready to believe 
they were going to make it.
  Pavarti was back on the bridge, a full participant in the team.  He'd 
reported in as Kirk's runner immediately upon his return to the ship, 
and stayed on after communications were restored, assisting with 
repairs.  From the looks of things, they'd have work for him to do for 
days, Kirk thought.
  Spock continued to work quietly at his station, interpreting their 
scanty data, making his reluctant, but notoriously accurate 'guesses', 
quietly offering his help wherever it was most needed.  He still 
appeared...not unwell, but unsound.  Kirk couldn't put his finger on it, 
and Spock wouldn't talk.
  The computer glitch continued to elude Spock's analysis.  It was a 
major, but unpressing concern.  
  "Subtle but definate abnormalities."   It wasn't what they needed to 
hear.
  At some point it became apparent to Kirk that they were going to 
survive the immediate crisis, and he found himself developing a 
curiosity about where they were--and why Spock had not reported 
on the subject.  Perhaps the computer difficulty was interfering with 
the VulcanUs analysis of the navigational data Murphy had provided 
Kirk thought.  That still wouldn't account for the fact that Spock had 
made no report on the subject.  It was an ominous sign. 
  When he judged things settled enough, Kirk approached Spock and 
asked for a status report on the Vulcan's analysis of Enterprise's 
location.
  Spock stiffened in a way Kirk had learned to watch for over the 
years.  It told him something was very wrong.
  Spock's next words confirmed it. 
  It needed to stay on the bridge, he cautioned Kirk quietly.
  They were 47,453 light-years from where they should be.
  On the other side of the galaxy.

End of Chapter 2.            (To be continued...)


Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Path: moe.ksu.ksu.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!rpi!usenet.coe.montana.edu!nntp.uoregon.edu!cie.uoregon.edu!eisimps
From: eisimps@cie.uoregon.edu (Eileen Simpson)
Subject: The Great American Star Trek Novel, Ch. 3
Message-ID: <1992Aug29.012617.15532@nntp.uoregon.edu>
Summary: Where do you think we are?
Sender: news@nntp.uoregon.edu
Organization: University of Oregon Campus Information Exchange
Date: Sat, 29 Aug 92 01:26:17 GMT
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Our story continues...(So does the copyright...)

                       THE GREAT AMERICAN STAR TREK NOVEL
                        "Where No *Man* Has Gone Before"

                                 CHAPTER THREE

"Captain's Personal Log. Stardate 2242.8.
  It has been 18 hours since we emerged from the phenomena that 
hurled us across the galaxy.  We have extinguished the inferno on 
the Engineering decks, but at a staggering cost in lives and 
equipment.  The crew is physically and emotionally exhausted from 
the ordeal, and I include myself in that assessment.  I know it is 
essential that I remain outwardly in control for the benefit of the 
crew, and yet my own feelings of grief and loss sometimes threaten 
to overwhelm me.
  We are a crippled ship, too far from home.
  Enterprise is so badly damaged!   So thoroughly beyond our ability to 
repair!  We have only our batteries to sustain us.  We crawl through 
space, with at most a matter of days to find a habitable world where 
we must do the unthinkable, and abandon our ravaged ship. It seems 
an impossible task, yet I have put all thoughts of the odds against us 
out of my mind.  I think only of how we can survive these next few 
hours, how I can best serve my ship and crew..."

  James Kirk couldn't help remembering how comfortable he'd felt 
sitting in his Captain's chair just a few hours before.  As he sat there 
now, looking at the scene around him, it was hard to recognize the 
bridge, let alone his feelings.  Had he really once felt he could handle 
anything that he might encounter?  It must have been his ego 
talking.  
  He had always been lucky, he decided.  Not talented, just 
lucky.  He had let himself get cocky once too often, and now his luck 
had run out.  The results were obvious.
  Well, maybe he deserved to be depressed, he thought, but he had no 
right to let it affect his response to the ship or his crew.  Regardless 
of what over-sight on his part had gotten them into this mess, he 
owed it to the others to keep his contempt for himself under control 
until he had dealt with this situation. Kirk looked at the criticism and 
contempt he felt he deserved as a form of self-indulgence, and drove 
those thoughts from his mind. 
  "Leave it for the court-martial," he told himself, "where they'll 
do it right. Do your duty to your crew until then."
  He'd worked nonstop since they emerged from 'The Effect'.  The most 
he would concede about the effects of his efforts was that they 
weren't dead yet.
  The others on the bridge appeared to be in similar states of 
exhaustion.  Like the rest of the crew, they knew that to 
return home they would not only have to repair a ship so badly damaged that 
it could sustain them only a few more hours, but that they 
would also have to successfully navigate a distance more than 10 
times greater than all of Federation exploration in the past 150 
years.  
  It was not an encouraging situation to say the least. Even so, they,
like their Captain, were proving to be a stubborn bunch of professionals, 
who did whatever needed doing and whatever could be done to 
improve their chances of survival.
  The sound of the bridge lift attracted Kirk's attention, and he 
swivelled wearily towards the noise.  Kirk involuntarily stiffened as 
he saw the McCoy step forward.  He knew he had to receive a final 
casualty report sometime, but still...
  McCoy was weary and grim as he walked silently to Kirk's position. 
Their eyes met briefly, then both men quickly looked away.
  "What's the word on our losses, doctor?," Kirk asked, with 
uncustomary coldness in his voice.
  "Thirty-eight dead, 24 wounded," McCoy's voice croaked back tiredly. 
"I don't think we're gonna lose anymore of the wounded.  I suppose 
in that sense, we were lucky."  
  McCoy sounded brusque as he made his report.  It wasn't that he was  
faulting Jim.  Dr. McCoy had his own guilty demons to contend with.  
  As he looked at the young faces of the dead and wounded, McCoy 
couldn't help remembering his harsh judgments of them only a short 
while before.  His words had come back to haunt him when he watched Lt. 
(j.g.) Seiko Mitsui drag four disabled comrades to safety, before she 
collapsed and died of her own mortal wounds.  
  They came back again as he'd swept the decks for casualties after 
the fire, and found bodies of the dead in positions clearly showing 
that they had succumbed while performing some last act that might help 
the ship.
  Sometimes they had acted at the cost of taking an escape route that 
could have saved their lives. They had found one such young Ensign's 
body in the Number 2 Jeffries Tube. The boy was dead of asphyxiation. 
  McCoy had learned that the Tube housed the circuitry for the Main 
Engines. The kid must have thought they had overloaded, and hoped 
he could cut the power off at the Tube. They figured the temperature 
in the Tube when the kid went into it was over 600 degrees, and had 
climbed...
  McCoy ordered himself not to think about it, but he also knew that 
whatever their attitudes or style, he was alive only because the 
youngsters had refused to let down their ship. They had become his 
shipmates, and he felt embarrassed and ashamed of his words 
against them.  
  He did his best to stay in control, and glanced quickly around the 
bridge to break the tension that followed his report.  His 
eyes caught sight of Spock, working quietly at his station.
  "How's Spock been doing?," he asked Kirk, nodding in the direction of 
the Science Officer.
  Kirk followed the doctor's gaze, looked thoughtfully at the Vulcan, 
then shrugged.
  "Darned if I know, doctor. You know Spock: even if he was in trouble, 
he would work with complete efficiency at whatever needed doing 
until he dropped in his tracks."  
  Kirk shot a quick look at his human friend.  
  "What are you asking me for?  You're the doctor, doctor."
  McCoy repressed any overt reaction. "I just thought you might have 
noticed something. I haven't exactly had time to give physio/psycho 
exams, you know."  
  He turned aside, and saw Scotty working silently on some repairs.  
McCoy watched him for a few moments, then nudged Jim.
  "Now there's a man we're going to need to keep an eye on, Jim."  Kirk 
moved subtly to indicate he was following McCoy's remarks, without 
alerting any observers to the topic of their conversation.  "You know 
that we lost every Engineer with a duty station below Level 5, Dorsal, 
don't you?"  
  McCoy spoke very softly, even though the effort strained vocal cords 
already croaking from his exhaustion.  
  "Scotty lost over 70% of his Division.  Between that and the 
condition of the ship's systems, well, just keep it in mind when you 
deal with him.  I'll take care of his medical needs."
  Kirk considered the doctor's remarks. "You know, Doctor, I need to 
get some additional information from both Spock and Scotty.  Why 
don't you hang around and observe them?"
  At McCoy's assent, Kirk signalled the other men and indicated they 
should join him in a quiet corner of the bridge for a conference.  
  McCoy noticed that Spock responded readily enough. Still, there was 
something in his manner that wasn't quite right... 
  The doctor's attention was quickly drawn away from the Vulcan to 
the Chief Engineer.  Scotty had himself under control, but his entire 
demeanor clearly revealed the strain he was under.
  Kirk was also assessing the condition of his key officers.  After some 
preliminary matters were attended to, he got down to business.
  "What chance do we have of restoring main power, Scotty?"
  The Engineer's reaction was immediate, and only barely restrained. 
  "What chance? None at all, in my opinion.  I haven't even been able 
to get people into Main Engineering yet, but I don't have to t'tell ya 
that the Main Drive doesn't do too well when parts of it get cooked at 
the surface temperature of some suns!" 
  Kirk tensed. Scotty's remarks were hyperbole, and he hoped Spock 
would not feel compelled to correct them.  Luckily, Spock remained 
silent.  The Engineer continued. 
  "Of course, that's only important if we have anti-matter for fuel--
which we don't. With the damage we sustained we couldn't possibly collect 
enough anti-matter to get us home--or even heat a decent-sized cup of 
coffee! Not to mention the dilithium crystals!" 
  Scotty looked from one man to another angrily. 
  "You give me a Starbase, a Spacedock, and a month, and I'll give you 
Main power!"
  "The Impulse system is useable, isn't it?," McCoy asked.
  Scotty took a deep breath, and spoke as if he was dealing with a 
child. 
  "Doctor, to fully utilize both the Impulse Reactors and the Aux 
generators requires that we have a working super-conductive system 
capable of handling the power they generate.  That system was knocked out, 
doctor.  It's slag.  If we use the reactors at full capacity to generate 
power when there are no lines to carry that power, the reactors will 
either switch off or they-will-pump-out-plasma-and-start-another-fire.  
Do you understand that, doctor?  What we have at full power is the battery,
and that's all we're gonna have unless someone has a spare miracle they'd 
like t'loan me."
  Kirk intervened. "What could account for this, gentlemen?," he asked 
as he looked directly at Spock, clearly attempting to draw the 
unusually quiet Vulcan into the discussion.
  Spock spoke softly and calmly. "I have only theories, at this juncture, 
Captain, but preliminary data indicates that whatever brought us 
here tapped into all our power supplies simultaneously and 
converted them in a single burst of enormous energy.  I believe it 
was that energy which hurled us 47.453 thousand light-years from 
our last position; and that burst of energy which overwhelmed our 
systems to such devastating effect."  
  Spock looked at the others and deliberately spoke colloquially.  
  "It was simply too much for them to handle."
  "But Spock," Kirk countered, "wouldn't a single energy burst of that 
magnitude have exceeded the capacity of our systems to such a 
degree that it would have simply destroyed us outright?"
  "Indeed."  Spock looked carefully at the others.  "The most logical 
conclusion is that the entire energy surge was _not_ routed through our 
systems. The bulk of it was channeled, perhaps even controlled, by 
something else. Something most probably associated with whatever 
brought us here."
  The others considered the implications of that in silence for several 
moments.  Whatever had brought them here was probably not a 
worm-hole or some other anomaly.  It was--something else.  A 
"something else" with the ability to tap the enormous power of 
Enterprise at will, release it in a single instant, and harness the 
energy that resulted.  
  It suggested intelligence and purpose, Kirk noted, though the 
purpose of bringing them so far to almost destroy them, eluded Kirk 
completely.
  "Spock--could the Menata have been so threatened by our contact, 
that they sent us here?," Kirk asked.
  The Vulcan shook his head firmly.
  "I think not, Captain," he replied.  "The probe we encountered gave 
no indications of such abilities."
  That was certainly true, Kirk conceded.  Still, the Menata had a 
motive, and he wasn't ready to let go of his suspicions about them 
quite yet.
  "Well, then, Scotty," Kirk asked finally, "how long do we have on the 
battery?"
  As Kirk turned and looked at his Chief Engineer, he realized the man 
was _enraged_.  Scotty had understood the implications of Spock's 
remarks as much as everyone else. To Scotty's way of thinking, 
whatever had brought them here had murdered his Engineers.  Kirk 
glanced at McCoy and saw he was reading that in Scotty's reaction, 
too.
  "Engineer Scott," Kirk emphasized.  
  Scotty came back to the present and forced himself to reply to Kirk's 
question.
  "Power isn't our most pressing problem, Captain.  We're runnin' out 
of breatheable air, and life-support could go at any time.  Of course if 
you can get me some time without the crew aboard, I could jerry-rig 
something and buy you more time, but working around them...I 
estimate we have about 18 hours left.  Twenty-four if we're lucky."
  "See that we are Engineer Scott," Kirk concluded, with a signal that 
Scott and McCoy were dismissed. The two men moved off together, 
the doctor taking matters in hand.
  Kirk turned toward Spock, wondering what McCoy had thought of the 
Vulcan's reactions. Until this conversation, Kirk had been genuinely 
concerned about his old friend.  He couldn't put his finger on it, but--
what was it Spock had said about the computer? 'Subtle but definate 
abnormalities.' It might well describe the sense Kirk had had about 
Spock since the latter had reappeared from the transporter room.
  Kirk had observed Spock's reactions in the conference with relief.  
While he wasn't entirely his old self, even Vulcans weren't immune 
to the strains of what they'd all been through. On balance, Kirk felt 
reassured. Spock had been alert and in control as he'd answered the 
questions.  He probably was fine, the human thought with relief.
  Spock regarded Kirk quietly, obviously wondering if the conversation 
was over for him as well.  Kirk moved closer, in a sign he wished to 
continue the discussion.
  "Anything new on our scans of this system, Spock?"
  The Vulcan looked slightly puzzled and shifted position before he 
replied. 
  "We are acquiring new data constantly, Captain, which I incorporate 
into my analysis of the situation.  However, if you are asking 
whether the conclusions indicated by the data have changed since 
my preliminary report, the answer to that would be, "no"." Spock 
paused.  "It is fascinating, however." 
  Kirk waited for Spock to explain. Things looked pretty ordinary to 
Kirk.
  "The third planet of this system is an ancient world, Captain," Spock 
explained.  "Our recent scans show that the radioactive elements 
originally present there have virtually all decayed. The remaining 
quantities have been insufficient to maintain a liquid planetary core 
for tens of thousands of years. Therefore, the planet solidified quite 
some time ago.  It is now a geologically stable world made up 
primarily of islands."
  "If I recall your data correctly, Spock, some of those 'islands' are 
about the size of Greenland back on Earth," Kirk commented.
  "Quite correct, Captain," Spock agreed mildly. "There are 8 land 
masses of sufficient size to qualify as subcontinents, and there is one 
land mass extending over the northern pole which is clearly classed 
as a continent. Nevertheless, the surface of this planet is primarily 
covered with oceans and dotted with what are best described as 
islands."
  Kirk rubbed his eyes tiredly.  "Spock, I'm in no condition to figure out 
puzzles with you.  What the heck is so fascinating about all this?"
  "It is the anomalies and coincidences revealed by the data, Captain."  
  Kirk simply stared at Spock until the latter continued.  
  "Is it not fascinating that we should be thrown across the galaxy,  
and find ourselves on a direct course into this system, a system which 
contains a Class M, habitable world as its third planet?"
  "Does seem pretty darned coincidental," Kirk agreed.  "What else 
have you noticed?"
  "The very level of stability manifested by this planet, is highly 
unusual, Captain. It has an almost perfect orbit.  An angle of 
inclination of 4.892%, yielding little seasonal variation.  A planet 
covered with oceans and small land masses--and almost _no storms_."  
  Kirk looked at Spock blankly, and the Vulcan explained. 
  "Recall your basic science, Captain: weather systems are inherent in a 
Class M atmosphere, and weather systems build over water, and 
diminish over land.  Without large land masses to break up storm 
patterns, the weather system of this world should be far more active 
than our data would indicate."
  Kirk considered Spock's remarks quickly.  "Is it possible our scans 
are off?"
  "Unlikely, Captain.  While their quality is not up to our usual 
standards, the pod's scanners are operating correctly. In addition, we 
have restored some ship's systems, and they are confirming our 
readings from the pod.  It is most curious," Spock reflected, "as is 
the data regarding the indigenous population.  Such a low level of 
cultural development is not usually associated with a humanoid 
population on a world this aged, Captain."
  Kirk tensed at the last remark.  "You understand the implications of 
the cultural problem, Spock?" The Prime Directive.  Spock nodded 
and Kirk continued, the tension evident in his voice.  "Are you 
absolutely certain of your conclusions?"
  The Vulcan did his best to not be insulted. 
  "Captain, all the reports you have received are based on data 
generated entirely from long-range scans, but that data does appear 
to be reliable.  My conclusions simply analyze our available data in 
light of our experience with other worlds.  With that in mind, judging 
from the level of urbanization, the pollution content of the 
atmosphere, and the dearth of broadcast signals, this world is 
inhabited by a pre-industrial society. Primitive by our standards. 
Furthermore, there is no indication there was ever a more developed 
culture at some earlier point in the planet's history.  It is a foregone 
conclusion that none of the social units we have identified thus far 
could produce a vehicle capable of reaching planetary escape 
velocity, and the most advanced such unit appears to be generations 
removed from such a development."
  It was still the same story: all their scans indicated they were dealing 
with a habitable world, but one with an indigenous culture which fell 
squarely within the constraints of the Prime Directive. As if reading 
Kirk's thoughts, Spock continued.
  "The people of this world have never left it of their own doing, 
Captain. Unless, and this seems most unlikely, the life-forms of some 
other system, some other race, ventured here, it is most improbable 
that these beings have had any contact with life originating outside 
their own world. If we confine our estimates of the likelihood of such 
contacts to what the inhabitants would be capable of generating by 
their own efforts and technology, the probability of such contact 
drops to..."  
  Spock's eyes met Kirk's and he read the exhaustion in them.  He 
paused just a moment, then concluded, "...a virtual nullity, 
Captain."
  Kirk considered this information quietly before he replied.  
  "What are the chances that we could find some remote spot and just 
avoid the locals, Spock?  Find some uninhabited island, someplace 
where we aren't likely to get visitors?"
  Spock nodded.  "That is an option which is worth pursuing, Captain.  
The planet is not heavily populated, and the inhabitants are 
clustered in the subtropics. There are a number of areas which are 
not near indigenous populations that we can evaluate for settlement. 
In fact, with the exception of scattered bands in the subpolar portion 
of the continental land-mass, there are virtually no inhabited areas 
outside the 40th parallel in either the northern or southern 
hemispheres."
  Kirk was confused.  "There are no humanoid settlements to speak of 
outside the 40th parallel except in a subpolar area?  How do you 
explain that, Spock?"
  "It is another anomaly in the data, Captain, however, the most 
credible hypothesis is that a small population of these beings was 
isolated there by natural forces, such as continental drift or geologic 
upheaval. There is an extraordinarily rugged mountain range 
between the northern population and the lower latitudes."
  The Captain rubbed his neck.  "What options do we have outside this 
system?"
  Spock responded impassively.  "The information we have is 
extremely limited, sir. There is a dense cloud of interstellar dust 
which obscures scans in one direction. It would appear that the next 
closest star with a planetary system is approximately 4.3 months 
away at our best speed.  It is not possible to say from the available 
data if any of the planets in that system are habitable."
  Kirk absorbed the information thoughtfully.  At that distance, 
assuming he could stabilize their atmosphere and life-support, the 
alternate system was beyond Enterprise's reach even if she stretched 
her batteries to maximum and used all her lifeboats.  
  Kirk sighed.  He was tired of being on his feet.  Their problem with 
the Prime Directive wasn't going to get any better by him standing here 
and talking to Spock about it. The discussion was concluded for the 
moment.  Kirk stretched as he prepared to move off.
  "Well, that's enough for now, Spock."  
  Kirk was grateful for Spock's good-health.  He looked at his friend 
with warm regard and evident relief.  "I know it's a human reaction, 
Spock, but I still have to tell you: I'm glad you're okay.  You really 
had me worried when I saw you in the transporter room, but you 
certainly seem to be alright now.  I can't say that for much else 
around here," Kirk concluded, as he started to move away, "but what 
the hell, at least we're alive."
  "Perhaps," Spock remarked simply.
  Kirk stopped in his tracks.  He turned back toward Spock, noting that 
the Vulcan was casually moving back to his station, as if nothing out 
of the ordinary had happened.  Kirk felt confused.
  "Spock...are we having the same conversation? I said, 'we're alive'. I 
suppose that's something," Kirk explained.
  "I am not certain of that, Captain."
  "You, Spock?," Kirk asked with concern.  "It's not like you to be 
depressed."  Kirk moved closer to his friend.  Perhaps something was  
wrong .
  "Ah.  I see the confusion: my reference was unclear."  Spock faced 
Kirk as he clarified his remarks. "I meant, that I am not certain we 
are not dead, Captain."
  Kirk was shocked. "Oh, shit!," he thought. Spock really was unwell. 
  Kirk gathered his thoughts, then approached Spock more closely.
  "I see...   Spock, have you, uh, shared this, um...impression with 
anyone else?"
  "No, Captain.  I can see no useful purpose to it," Spock replied matter-
of-factly.  "Given the data currently reported by my senses, it would 
be illogical to let the possibility affect my behavior."
  Kirk spoke to his friend slowly, with concern, making certain he 
understood.  "You mean...the possibility that we're actually _dead_ 
shouldn't affect your behavior?," Kirk asked in bewilderment.
  "That is correct, Captain," Spock nodded.  "It would not be logical."
  "Spock...,"  Kirk considered his words carefully, "there was a power 
surge while you were in the transporter. You may be experiencing 
perceptual problems as a result of that.  You may need medical 
attention."
  Spock evaluated the information. 
  "Humm."  He turned away for a moment then faced Kirk again. 
  "Please correct my impression if I am in error, Captain, but did you 
not experience, at that same time, a sense of being in a pleasant, 
indescribable space?"  Kirk reluctantly indicated agreement.  "Would 
you describe your recollections of the experience, Captain?"
  Kirk hesitated, then described what he could recall of "The Effect".  It 
was difficult to put into words.  Nothing he could say could truly 
convey it.
  After a while he finished, and Spock nodded. "Is it also correct, 
Captain, that there were aspects of that experience which cannot be 
communicated or described by any of our forms--perhaps the 
defining aspects of the experience?"
  "Well, yes, but..."
  "You have just described those aspects of my experience with death 
which are capable of description, Captain."
  Kirk cut him off. "Wait, Spock. Look, just because there are 
similarities between the two experiences, doesn't mean they are the 
same..."
  "True.  However, for myself I can say that while I was experiencing 
what we are calling 'The Effect', I found I was reliving--or 
reexperiencing--my experience of being dead."
  Kirk wanted out of the conversation very badly.  He asserted his 
position as Spock's commander. 
  "Spock. The critical factor here is that we are no longer in the void. .."
  "It is not accurate to describe the experience as a 'void', Captain.  A 
'void' is an emptiness, and, as you recall, there was a sense of 
presence..."
  "Spock! Listen. I can't explain where we were, Spock, but the 
important thing, which you seem to be overlooking, is that we 
aren't there now. We are here, on the bridge, walking around, 
talking, thinking....Hell, Spock, we're even worrying about dying!"  
  Kirk fixed Spock with a hard stare.  "We are not dead, Spock."
  The Vulcan was undisturbed. 
  "As you wish, Captain. You were always unwilling to accept the 
experience, and perhaps you are correct.  Perhaps your refusal to 
accept the death experience even has some relationship to our 
present status.  In any event, I am unable to speak with certainty for 
either point of view."
  Either point of view!   Kirk looked at his friend sadly. 
  "Spock, I want you to go see Dr. McCoy.  Now. I want you to tell him 
about this conversation and follow whatever program of medical care 
he directs.  Do you understand me, Spock?  This is an order."
  The Vulcan accepted the instructions as he accepted all the peculiarly 
human quirks of his friend, and joined McCoy as the doctor finished 
his tour of the bridge. Kirk watched as the two officers stepped into 
the lift and the doors closed. 
  "What next?," Kirk wondered.

  Lt. Karl Murphy reported in for his latest tour in the research pod. It 
wasn't that he enjoyed the duty in the cramped little station, it 
simply gave him something important to do and kept him away from 
other people while he did it.  
  Murphy did not like the disorder of the ship, especially the sense that 
they were not in control of events or their survival.  He was grateful 
for the chance to be occupied, no, immersed, in a demanding, vital 
task--which he could do alone.
  Like everyone else on the ship, Murphy was developing his own 
theories of what had hit them. His preference was for a spatial quirk 
or hostile force.  He had little patience with those who insisted they 
had experienced an almost spiritual presence during the transition.  
  Romanticizing disorientation had never impressed him, and Murphy 
was personally convinced that was all such reports were.
  His own experience of 'The Effect' had been neither beautiful nor 
romantic. It was simply frustrating and confusing.  He'd been unable 
to analyze his surroundings and had felt completely ineffective for 
the duration of the event.  It was deeply disturbing to Murphy:  the 
environment had been  painfully unresponsive to his efforts to assert 
himself through his actions and his thoughts.
  He'd hated the entire episode.
  In reaction to the experience, since they had emerged, he had made 
his best efforts to be especially focused, precise, and controlled.  He 
knew he had probably come across to the Captain as a martinet 
during their encounter on the bridge, but that very precise, focused 
behavior had helped him recover from his experience, and helped 
him even now as he tried to avoid the uncomfortable feelings 
brought on by his memories of 'The Effect'.  He brought all his 
attention to bear on his scientific instruments, concentrating on his 
scans of the third planet.
  When he first saw them, 20.2 hours after Enterprise's emergence 
from 'The Effect', he was momentarily worried that he had pushed 
himself too far, and was hallucinating.   
  He reset his instruments, and checked again. His readings confirmed, 
he signalled the bridge. 
  Two small objects now stood between them and the third planet.

Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Path: moe.ksu.ksu.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!rpi!usenet.coe.montana.edu!nntp.uoregon.edu!cie.uoregon.edu!eisimps
From: eisimps@cie.uoregon.edu (Eileen Simpson)
Subject: The Great American Star Trek Novel, Ch. 4
Message-ID: <1992Aug29.013605.16777@nntp.uoregon.edu>
Summary: Can we talk?
Sender: news@nntp.uoregon.edu
Organization: University of Oregon Campus Information Exchange
Date: Sat, 29 Aug 92 01:36:05 GMT
Lines: 567

Our story continues...

                      THE GREAT AMERICAN STAR TREK NOVEL
                       "Where No *Man* Has Gone Before"

                                CHAPTER FOUR

The small orbs assumed positions directly in the path of 
Enterprise as the latter continued her slow advance into the system.
  "Uhura," Kirk demanded, "any response to our hail?"
  The communications specialist shook her head slowly as her hands 
played deftly over her patched panel. "I'm sorry, Captain.  I've tried 
every known frequency and signal we can bring on line. Nothing 
seems to register with them."
  "Keep at it, Uhura."
  The doors to the lift opened and Spock and McCoy reentered the 
bridge.  It had been less than an hour since Kirk's conversation with 
Spock had taken that decidedly bizarre little turn.  Kirk watched 
Spock move efficiently into action at the science station, as the doctor 
joined the Captain at the command chair.
  "Read any good metaphysics lately?," McCoy asked wryly.
  Kirk inhaled deeply with worry.  "I hope your humor means the 
man's not seriously ill, doctor.  How is he?"
  "Well, I didn't have time to finish the exam, but...he's not dead, Jim." 
  McCoy paused and noted Kirk was not showing signs of amusement.  
The doctor quickly elaborated.  
  "He doesn't appear to be in any physical danger on the basis of the 
preliminary test results.  In fact,  the preliminary tests show he's 
entirely unimpaired and functioning normally. In other words, if he 
hadn't self-reported this belief that we might be dead, none of our 
tests would have picked up any sign that he had problems."  McCoy 
made a face.  "It's gonna make this damn hard to treat."
  "Did you have time to reason with him about this thing?  I mean, if 
we're dead, doctor," Kirk spoke very softly to avoid being overheard, 
"how does he explain the fact that some of the crew are _deader_?"
  "Good question.  I don't know what his thought process is around 
this, Jim.  We didn't have much opportunity to talk--just long enough 
for him to insult me four times."  
  Kirk registered relief.  
  "Yeah, well, I suppose it is a good sign," McCoy conceded grudgingly. 
"Look, Jim, ordinarily, in the absence of significant trauma I'd expect 
only mild transitory disorientation with a good prognosis for complete 
recovery.  The problem is, there's no record of a Vulcan developing a 
detailed, nontraumatic delusional system in response to a transporter 
malfunction.  Of course, Spock does have a 'unique' medical history...." 
  The doctor shrugged and shook his head.  "I don't know, Jim. I can't 
tell you what this means."
  Kirk turned back to the business at hand.  At least there was some 
good news about Spock's condition in the fact that he was otherwise 
functional. Maybe if they kept him engaged in concrete tasks, they 
could break through to him that this was reality...
  "Spock."  Kirk swiveled the command chair towards the science 
station. "Anything in your scans that might help Cmdr. Uhura?"
  Spock looked up from his instruments with his usual intelligence and 
calm. 
  "I am afraid I am unable to be of much assistance, Captain. The 
sensors we have on line are unable to analyze the systems or 
lifeforms aboard these objects, nor can I offer an adequate 
hypothesis which would explain our data.  Quite simply, Captain, the 
data we are getting from our sensors does not make sense."
  "Explain, Spock."
  "By correlating our scientific and engineering knowledge with what 
our sensors are telling us about these vessels, these objects should 
not be capable of movement, let alone the kind of performance they 
are manifesting."
  "What's their efficiency curve?," Kirk asked. 
  Spock hesitated. "I can provide that data, Captain, but, for reasons I 
shall explain, I am reluctant to rely on it.  The data indicates an 
efficiency rating of 96.7328%."
  Kirk's eyebrows went up.  He was suitably impressed. 
  "But you don't trust it, Spock. Why?"
  Spock's brow furrowed as he collected his thoughts.
  "We may be producing a measure of something that has no meaning 
in this context, Captain."  At Kirk's look of bewilderment, Spock 
elaborated.  "Some of my readings suggest that these vessels have 
nothing aboard them that we recognize as technology: no refined 
metals, no machinery. There is no indication of a device of any kind. 
I read what is essentially a large rock, at most a ceramic hull, 
surrounding an atmosphere of indeterminate composition, generating 
massive life-form readings. In that context, our 'technical' analysis 
may well be meaningless."
  Spock paused to review some additional readings, then continued. 
  "It is most curious, Captain, but I do believe our readings are oddly 
distorted, and highly misleading."
  Kirk frowned.  "Are you able to produce an image on the viewscreen, 
yet, Scotty?"
  "Aye, sir.  After a fashion, and not with the best resolution."
  "Let's see what you've got, Engineer Scott," Kirk ordered.
  Scotty made the necessary adjustments and a fuzzy image appeared 
on the bridge main viewer.  Kirk leaned forward to inspect the 
picture, as Scotty tuned in the screen for the clearest image. 
  As the picture cleared, Kirk saw them.  Small and simple against the 
backdrop of space and their distant blue world, they were not 
identical, he noted.  Both were somewhat oblong, but not cigars.  
They were too rounded for that description, Kirk decided.  They were 
more like...elongated eggs.
  Kirk regarded the tiny ships thoughtfully for several moments. 
  "Could these...whatevers actually be vessels from third planet?," he 
asked Spock incredulously.
  Spock shook his head.  "The data presently available is too equivocal 
to support any inference with regard to such a relationship, Captain.  
The materials I can identify in these objects are present on the third 
planet, but they are also quite common, and cannot unequivocably tie 
these objects to any particular point of origin."
  Kirk turned towards Sulu for his opinion. 
  "What do you think, Sulu?"
  "They look harmless enough, Captain, but if they're capable of 
operating at that level of efficiency with a technology we can't begin 
to understand, they certainly could be a threat to the ship. I 
wouldn't underestimate them just because they're small."
  "Agreed, Sulu."
  Kirk sat back thoughtfully in his command chair, as Spock 
approached from the science station.  Kirk looked up tiredly at his 
old friend. 
  "Helluva mess," he muttered softly to himself, as he looked about the 
bridge. The ship's wounds seemed to leap out at his eyes.  Where she 
had been so new only a week before, he now saw torn-out panels 
and dead instruments.  He knew he dared not get involved in 
combat, and he had no desire to appear to challenge or provoke these 
strange craft.
  He drummed his fingers for a moment on the arms of the command 
chair, and stared at the small objects which refused to give way 
before him.
  "Still no response to our hail?," he asked Uhura again, vainly.  She 
shook her head in the negative.
  "Well, Spock, there may be different communication channels and 
rules of science on this side of the galaxy, but there's no mistaking 
that."  Kirk thrust a finger at the viewscreen where a pair of small 
ships stood in their path. 
  He turned to his  First Officer.  
  "All stop, Chekov."
  "All stop, aye, Captain," Chekov repeated.
  Pavarti stepped forward in agitation. "Sir!," he insisted testily. 
"We're not gonna let these little guys drive us away, are we, sir?"
  Kirk couldn't tell if the young man was more tired or anxious or 
annoyed.  Whatever it was, Kirk felt no desire to educate the 
youngster at this particular juncture.  He opened his mouth to shut 
Pavarti's just as Spock's gentle tones came between them.
  "I believe, Mr. Pavarti, that the Captain is referring to the clear 
indication in this behavior that we are stop our progress into this 
system.  We are being told to come no farther."
  "But sir!," Pavarti continued, moving toward the command chair, "this 
is the only Class M planet where we can possibly make landfall.  We 
can't simply turn around and go away. There's no place else to go!  
You know our power will fail before we can even get to another 
system, let alone find another habitable world!" 
  Pavarti looked desperately about at the bridge crew, seeking support, 
but met only averted eyes and lowered heads.  He raised his voice in 
one final appeal. 
  "What's the matter with all of you? You know it's true! They 
have to let us land here!  We have to make them understand!"
  "Mr. Pavarti."  Kirk's tone was calm and level.  "Do the words, 'Prime 
Directive' mean anything to you?"
  The Ensign breathed rapidly in silence.  Kirk waited to let his words 
sink in for the benefit of the entire bridge contingent.  When he 
spoke again, his voice was soft, but firm.
  "This is where we give meaning to our principles."
  Pavarti moved back to his station in the silence that followed.
  "Well, Spock," Kirk cocked his head and looked up wryly at his old 
friend.  "Any ideas?"
  "Only the obvious, Captain. They have made no hostile moves against 
us. I suggest we wait and attempt to clarify the situation. Perhaps we 
will be able to establish contact in some manner the parties have yet 
to attempt."
  "Agreed."  Kirk slapped his hands on his knees for emphasis and rose 
from the command chair.  He turned toward Uhura.  "Do you have 
any idea whether or not we're even being received?," he asked her, 
indicating the ships on the viewer.
  "It's impossible for me to say, Captain."
  Kirk stood contemplating the ships blocking their path for a long, 
silent moment. 
  "Very well, then. We'll assume that whoever they are, they can't 
receive our transmissions. But they obviously have some sensory 
system, because they know we're here. Your mission, gentlemen, is to 
come up with some way to signal these people."  He turned to each of 
his key officers as he spoke. "And, since we've tried the obvious, I'd 
suggest you consider the creative.  I'll entertain any suggestions, but 
I want you to get on it."

  Two hours later, the two small objects remained on station, directly 
in Enterprise's path, absolutely immobile. No intelligible 
communication had been received from the alien vessels. Nothing 
indicated the slightest reaction to Enterprise's desperate efforts to 
reach out to them. 
  There had been no overt signs of hostility, just the simple positioning 
of the orbs directly in their line of flight, the meaning of which 
seemed clear to everyone. Enterprise held station, hoping for some 
breakthrough that would let them at least attempt to negotiate a landing.
  Finally, Kirk called his top officers together for the mandatory 
command conference. He lowered himself slowly into the chair at the 
head of the table and surveyed his people silently as they arrived. 
  The mood was tense and glum.
  "I'll save you some time. I've read your reports and reviewed your 
efforts to contact our friends outside. You've been very thorough. Are 
there any additional ideas anyone would like to present for 
consideration?," Kirk asked. 
  The question was intended to begin the ritual of logging the 
Departmental reports, which Kirk needed to have on record prior to 
taking his next action.  Scotty was too exhausted to engage in ritual acts, and went straight to the point.
  "Beggin' your pardon, Captain, but unless you're willin' to consider 
the ideas that fall in the general category of, 'give 'em a gentle nudge 
w' the phasers'--which is pointless, because we dinna ha' power for 
the phasers, or, 'lock onto the nearest lifeform and beam it over'--
which is also pointless, 'cause we dinna ha' power for the 
transporters, we only have two options: we either move forward 
slowly and push past these people, or we pick out our next 
destination.  We've nothing left to try, that we're able to try, in our 
current condition."
  A quick glance at the others confirmed their agreement with Scotty's 
remarks.
  "Do you have a recommendation on that, Engineer Scott?," Kirk 
inquired.
  When Scotty began speaking again, it was clear it was formal and 
that he was doing it for the record.
  "With all due respect, Captain, we're in no condition to be making any 
long trips. I've spoken to Science Officer Spock and Cmdr. Chekov about 
our situation. In our opinions, this is the only habitable planet we 
will be able to reach.  Our equipment will fail long before we could 
arrive at another system."  
  Scotty paused and some of those present shifted uncomfortably.  Kirk 
remained steady.
  Scotty looked over at Sulu, who picked up the conversation. 
  "The vessels in front of us--wherever they're from--don't appear to 
want us to come any closer to the planet, Captain.  We don't feel 
comfortable with pushing past them, not from the standpoint of some 
risk to the ship, but because, in our opinions, such an action would 
violate the Prime Directive, even if communication and the vessels' 
relationship to the planet is ambiguous."  
  Sulu paused, knowing his next words were critical to their fates. His 
eyes met Kirk's firmly.
  "It is our recommendation that we terminate our efforts to approach 
the planet, and consider the ultimate disposition of the ship and 
crew," Sulu reported.
  Kirk appeared impassive.  "Explain, gentlemen."
  Scotty picked up the conversation once again. "We have enough time 
and power to clear this system, Captain.  After that, I might be able 
to get us a few days more, but we'll have nowhere especially 
interesting or worthwhile to go. The choice is whether we pick the 
time we end it, or see how long our luck lets us hold out. But unless 
we can off-load our personnel--soon--the end is inevitable, and not 
very far off."
  "Am I to understand the rest of you agree with this assessment?," 
Kirk asked.
  The others nodded. Chekov spoke up with an elaboration. 
  "There is disagreement on how ve end it, sair. Some of us vant to 
keep going and deweloping information no matter vhat, right to the 
end. Others feel that with no likelihood that anyone vill ever receive 
any information ve generate, ve may as well suit ourselves and be 
comfortable, sair.  There is no agreement on that point, sair."
  Kirk's heart was pounding.  There had to be another set of options.  
He glanced at McCoy.  The doctor met his gaze momentarily, then 
looked down at the table.  
  _There are always possibilities._   Kirk turned to Spock.
  "What do you think, Spock?," Kirk asked the Vulcan.
  Spock hesitated. "If you are asking me to address the question of 
how we should end our lives, Captain," he said slowly, "I...do not 
believe it is appropriate for me to express an opinion on that point."
  Kirk stared at Spock numbly, as the reason why Spock was unwilling 
to comment registered on Kirk's tired brain.  He was grateful for the 
Vulcan's discretion in not mentioning the possible irrelevance of the 
issue--even if the remark did confuse everyone else but McCoy.
  Kirk remained outwardly calm as the full impact of their remarks hit 
him, but his mind raced. The verdict he had resisted since he first 
emerged from 'The Effect' was no longer avoidable: his ship was 
terminal. His key people were telling him that the question was 
whether to use the self-destruct mechanism to euthanize Enterprise 
and her crew, or play the situation out to its inevitable end of slow 
death as the ship's systems failed.
  Suddenly, Kirk found himself wondering whether he had the 
strength to meet this particular challenge, and doubting that he ever 
had.  Perhaps the secret of all his creative genius was merely the 
intensity of his fear that he would ultimately discover a problem for 
which he had no solution, and over which he was powerless.  He felt 
the cold fear of that old nightmare now as his mind searched for 
options and repeatedly confronted the deadends of their present 
realities.
  Still, he knew he could not sit silently forever, and that the others 
looked to him to lead them into whatever lay ahead.  Some of the 
crew undoubtedly still clung to the belief that the Starfleet legend 
could pull the rabbit out of the hat and save them even now, but Kirk 
knew he had no rabbit and no hat.
  He ordered his mind to quiet and began to speak. "Gentlemen, I 
appreciate your efforts and your concerns, however," Kirk paused for 
breath.  His mouth was on auto-pilot. He had no idea where his 
sentence was going.
  Suddenly, a word formed, unspoken, in his mind.
  **"Play."**
  "My God," Kirk thought, "I'm losing it!" 
  He collected himself carefully, and prepared to continue. "As I was 
saying..."
  "Bridge to Captain Kirk!"
  "Kirk here," he replied to the companel with relief. "Go ahead."
  The young officer of the deck sounded excited. "We've picked up 
another object, sir. Approaching from the planet, Captain."
  The senior officers looked at each other in surprise. "From a heading 
from the planet, you say?," Kirk repeated in wonder. At the duty 
officer's assent, Kirk felt suddenly revitalized. "Bridge, we're on our 
way. Stations people!  Bones, you come with me, I'd like your 
thoughts on this."

  As they exited the turbolift and stepped onto the bridge, they could 
see that the viewscreen image had shifted to show them the latest 
alien arrival.  
  It was different from the others, larger, and an almost a perfect 
sphere.  
  Kirk studied the screen intently as he stepped forward. The image 
was weak and shaky, but it showed the effort the crew was putting 
into the repairs.  Kirk felt his affection for his people grow as the 
image on the screen improved.
  They'd make it yet, he thought. There had to be a way. 
  The duty officer rose as Kirk approached the command chair.
  "What's the situation, Mister?"
  The young woman nodded toward the image on the screen. "We 
picked that up only a few minutes ago, Captain. There was no 
detectable signal or other communication between this ship and the 
others before the newcomer showed up, sir, nor did we detect any 
signal from the planet directed at the other vessels...or anywhere 
else for that matter, Captain."
  Kirk nodded.  "Did you pick up anything interesting on the new 'ship', 
Lieutenant?"
  The Lieutenant spoke firmly. "There's still nothing useful on their 
propulsion system or technology, Captain, but sensor readings do 
show this one is similar to the others in its construction, materials, 
and life-form readings.  It's also considerably larger than the others.  
That's all we could develop from a preliminary analysis of the data, 
Captain."
  Kirk nodded his thanks as the Lieutenant moved to an auxiliary 
station. "How about it, Spock? Can you give me anything else from 
the readings?"
  Spock continued to study his sensor displays as he answered. "I am 
afraid the data is still coming in at this time, sir. It is correct 
that this object is larger than the others by a factor of 3, but it is 
still quite small by our standards, and it is unlikely it could operate 
away from this planet for either an extended time or distance. Of course," 
Spock added, "the last point is subject to the observation that the true 
capabilities of these vessels appear to be entirely beyond our ability 
to assess."
  "Any idea who, what, and how many beings are aboard any of these 
ships, yet, Spock?"
  "Negative, Captain. The life-form readings I am receiving are strong, 
and yet so oddly diffuse, I cannot reliably determine the answers to 
any of those questions."
  "What about weapons or signs of hostile intent?"
  "Insufficient data, Captain."
  "What sensory or communication system does the new arrival use?"
  "Insufficient data, sir."
  Kirk stifled his mounting frustration. "But the 'insufficient data' does 
allow me to safely conclude that these three rocks are space-vessels, 
and are related, is that correct, Spock?"
  "Sensor readings indicate significant correlations in materials, and in 
life-form signs."
  "Then you confirm that they're from the same point of origin," Kirk 
persisted doggedly.
  "Indications from the information we have thus far does place the 
likelihood of such a relationship in excess of 94.9899..."
  Kirk waved him off. "The odds, Spock, are overwhelming that these 
"ships" were created by a similar process, house similar life-forms, 
and are from the same place, aren't they?"
  "That is correct, Captain."
  Kirk felt a sudden sensation of dizziness, and the desire to giggle.  
  "Fun," his mind said.  He composed himself quickly and forced 
himself to focus on the conversation with Spock.  "Exhaustion and 
stress, " he said to himself. "Be careful."
  "And if I also understand things correctly," Kirk continued 
determinedly, "our scans of this planet indicated widely scattered 
social units with no significant industrial development, low 
technological development, and no capability of producing a vehicle 
capable of reaching planetary escape velocity.  Is that also correct?"
  "Those are the indications of the available data, sir."
  "So what are we dealing with here, Spock? Do these vessels represent 
a lifeform from outside the third planet, or are we dealing with a 
world whose technical capacity is not what it seems?"
  "A definitive answer to that question is probably impossible, Captain, 
however I might attempt to. . ."
  "Do whatever you need to do, Spock. The answer to this question is 
critical."
  Everyone on the bridge understood the significance of the issue.  If 
these odd craft did not originate from the third planet, or perhaps, 
even from this system, Enterprise had a much greater range of 
appropriate responses to the vessels' apparent denial of contact with 
that world.  Any significant doubt Spock could generate on this point 
might ultimately spell the difference between certain death and the 
"opportunity for life" Kirk was so famous for finding and exploiting. 
  Everyone on the bridge knew Spock had the opportunity to hand 
Kirk the opening he needed to save them.
  Minutes passed as Spock worked with his instruments and consulted 
with the officers in his Science unit.  Eventually, he was ready.
  "I have been able to complete a portion of my analysis, Captain, and I 
believe I can answer at least one of your questions." Kirk nodded for 
Spock to continue. "Our readings show that the atmospheres of the 
three vessels are identical in composition to that of the third planet. 
Given this," Spock went on formally, "and their manner of 
presentation, I cannot refute or challenge the conclusion that these 
vessels host beings from the third planet in this system, however 
unusual that may seem in light of our data on this world."
  At his words, muscles which had tensed while awaiting his report, 
moved uneasily. Spock was aware that more than one crewman on 
the bridge would privately curse his Vulcan integrity.
  "Thank you, Spock," James Kirk responded, with genuine warmth and 
respect. 
  Spock inclined his head slightly in response. He had also known that 
no such curses would come from Jim Kirk, and that the latter was 
relying on Spock's relentless honesty in this crisis. Spock rose and 
joined Kirk and McCoy at the command chair.
  "Well," Bones whispered softly, "at least I've lived--or think I've 
lived--to see one historic occasion. If I understood you correctly, 
Spock, everything you concluded in your initial report on this planet 
was wrong."
  Spock frowned. "I hardly find that description accurate, doctor. I 
believe I previously reported the conclusions indicated by our long-
range scans. The indicated conclusions of that data remain the same, 
it is merely that additional information now suggests that these 
conclusions are not correct in the present case."
  McCoy rolled his eyes heavenward and rocked back on his heels.  "I 
suppose it was too much to ask to see two historic occasions before I 
died: I should have known you'd never admit it."
  "There is nothing to admit, doctor," Spock continued stubbornly. "The 
question is. . ."
  Kirk had had enough. 
  "The question is, gentlemen," he looked hard at both of them as he 
cut off the debate, "the question is, how this new player changes the 
game, if at all, and how the new information that this world is 
capable of spaceflight changes our obligations under the Prime 
Directive, if at all.  Those are the matters I want addressed!"
  He stood in annoyance, and strode quickly to Uhura's station. He 
needed to collect his thoughts. He was not willing to accept that his 
only options were to destroy the ship or watch helplessly as his crew 
met a slow death. Maybe there was some option they'd missed on 
communication...
  "_Bored_." Uhura announced out of the blue.  She glanced quickly at 
the shocked Captain, and blushed deeply.
  "Are we boring you, Commander?," Kirk demanded angrily.
  "I'm sorry, Captain," Uhura replied, in sincere embarrassment. "The 
word just came out, sir. I don't know why.  It just came into my 
mind.  I'm certainly not bored, sir."
  "That's a relief, Commander."  He picked up a status board and 
reviewed her activity. It looked as complete as it had the last 5 times 
he'd checked it.  
  "There's no response to anything, Commander?," he asked her 
impatiently.  "Not from ship's systems?" 
  Uhura shook her head. 
  "Not from telepaths?"  
  Another head shake. 
  "Not from empaths?"  
  Still no. 
  "No one in the crew having visions..." Kirk offered in exasperation.
  Uhura's head stopped shaking.  She looked up hesitantly.
  "I..." she looked at Kirk nervously.  This could be the dumbest thing 
she ever said on a bridge, she thought. Then she realized that if it 
was worthless information, they were likely to be dead soon anyway, 
so she wouldn't have to live with the embarrassment very long.  She 
continued, "...I've had a couple of words just pop into my head, that 
are absolutely inappropriate, Captain."
  Kirk's ears perked up. 
  "What words?"
  "'Play'.  'Fun'.  'Bored'."
  Kirk stared at her. "Have you," he hesitated, lowered his voice, "have 
you had the urge to...giggle?"
  Uhura looked up at him with wide-eyed innocence. "No, sir," she said 
sweetly, "I can't say that I have."
  Kirk frowned and turned away. He spun back towards her.  "What's 
your quotient for telepathic and empathic abilities?"
  Uhura shook her head. "Low. I barely register, sir."
  "Is there any area where you've tested unusually highly, Commander?"
  "Intuition, Captain. I have one of the highest scores ever 
recorded...but it's the second-highest score on this ship."  She looked 
at Kirk significantly.
  Intuition! The intuitive members of the crew were picking up... Were 
picking up what? The urge to giggle? What the hell did he do with 
this information?
  "Jim!" It was McCoy. "They're moving, Jim."
  "Any sign of attack?," Kirk asked quickly, as he returned to the 
command chair.
  "I...well..." Chekov seemed confused.  He turned to Spock.  "What do you 
think, sir?"
  Spock looked nonplussed.  He looked up from his instruments with a 
quizzical look on his face, and finally responded.  "I cannot determine 
the meaning of this vesselUs behavior, Captain. However, if it plans to 
attack us, its actions are most illogical. Perhaps if I refined our visual 
image, the situation will be clearer to you."
  Spock adjusted the instruments. The viewscreen image became 
crisper, and promptly revealed the larger of the three rocks darting 
about erratically.  Kirk stared at the display in fascination, as did the 
rest of the crew.
  "Now what in blazes does that mean?," McCoy growled.
  "They look drunk," Sulu complained in disgust. 
  Kirk sat silently, a suspicion forming in his mind.  A suspicion he was 
reluctant to act upon, however.
  "Ideas, Spock?"
  "Nothing useful, Captain. I would note, however, that these are not 
the actions of logical beings, sir.  Logic, therefore, cannot help us 
interpret their behavior."
  "Well," McCoy whispered, "that leaves us with the wild and the 
bizarre. Them's your categories, Jim." The doctor looked over at his 
friend, and was surprised to find Kirk was rubbing his chin 
thoughtfully, with a bemused expression on his face.
  "They can't be serious!," Chekov exclaimed.  "Captain! They're coming 
right at us!"
  "As you were, people," Kirk insisted quickly.  "I don't think they 
intend to ram," he explained.
  Spock's eyebrow went up.  "You believe you comprehend this 
behavior, Captain?," he asked respectfully.
  "I have a suspicion, Spock. Call it...," he glanced at Uhura. "lntuition."
  The little object disappeared from the viewscreen.  "Where'd they 
go?," Kirk asked.
  Chekov consulted his instruments, and rechecked them in disbelief. 
  "There," he said, pointing upwards. "They're up there.  Above the 
navigation dome."
  Kirk could not restrain an involuntary glance above his command 
chair.  An eerie feeling passed over him as he realized someone, 
directly above him, had probably noticed the translucent area and 
was trying to somehow peer in. For a moment he sat transfixed, amazed at 
the audacity of whoever was outside. Whoever it was would be 
disappointed--nothing could be seen of the interior of the ship 
through the dome. Still, for them to come so close to a much larger 
vessel... 
  "They must want to make contact very much," Kirk thought.  Was it 
possible that those outside were as frustrated by their inability to 
communicate as his crew was inside?
  He had reached the decision point.  He knew what he had to do--and, 
he was the only person on the bridge who was not surprised a 
moment latter when a "boink! boink! boink!" was heard coming 
from the outer hull. The others exchanged looks of disbelief.  Kirk 
laughed: Their little visitor was gently tapping against Enterprise's 
hull. Klrk's mind was made up.
  "Now what the hell..." McCoy began.  Kirk cut him off.
  "Sulu, if you will take the con.  Uhura, prepare a shuttle for my 
immediate use."  He rose and began to stride off the bridge.  McCoy 
stepped forward to block his path.
  "Jim!  You're not actually going out there with those maniacs!," he 
exclaimed.
  "That's exactly what I'm going to do, doctor.  Someone has gone to a 
great deal of trouble to get us to come out and play, and I'm going to 
see what happens if I accept the invitation! I'll be in touch."

  Kirk had too much at stake to enjoy the opportunity to misuse 
Federation equipment for over an hour. He followed the three 
strange ships on a mad dash across the solar system, zooming this 
way and that, rolling and diving through interplanetary space.  The 
largest object seemed to be the center of their activity, and Kirk 
singled it out for his attention.
  At least he knew they weren't hostile, he thought, but the time had 
come to move the process of making contact along. They were still 
unable to communicate by any recognizable signals.  He was going to 
have to get them, or one of them, aboard the ship.  Try things face to 
face.
  He broke off their pattern and halted.  Soon the little ships had 
joined him nearby. Kirk took a deep breath and slowly moved up to 
the largest. Carefully, gently, he then moved away, working the 
vessels towards Enterprise.  The larger alien followed Kirk easily.
  "That's it, my little friend," Kirk thought, as the alien ship duplicated 
his maneuvers. Gradually, Kirk led it to Enterprise, toward the 
main airlock on the saucer section's hull. Kirk stopped, and the alien 
halted nearby. He ordered the crew to extend the Universal 
Umbilical, carefully moved the shuttle up to it, docked, and allowed the
umbilical to attach to the shuttle door.  The whole maneuver was an
unnecessary and inconvenient way for him to dock with Enterprise, but he
hoped the demonstration was not lost on his little round friend.
  As the umbilical pressurized, Kirk signalled the bridge and informed them
of the remainder of his plan.  He exited the shuttle, exhanging places with
a young Ensign who undocked and 'parked' the shuttle nearby.  The umbilical
remained extended.  Kirk waited with Scotty, Chekov, and Security team just
inside the airlock door, wondering if his 'friends' would come to his house
to play.

                                 (To be continued...)


Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Path: moe.ksu.ksu.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!rpi!usenet.coe.montana.edu!nntp.uoregon.edu!cie.uoregon.edu!eisimps
From: eisimps@cie.uoregon.edu (Eileen Simpson)
Subject: The Great American Star Trek Novel, Ch. 5
Message-ID: <1992Aug29.050435.4247@nntp.uoregon.edu>
Summary: It's a dirty job, but somebody has to do it...
Sender: news@nntp.uoregon.edu
Organization: University of Oregon Campus Information Exchange
Date: Sat, 29 Aug 92 05:04:35 GMT
Lines: 733


The Great American Star Trek Novel, "Where No *Man* Has Gone Before"
(Our Story Continues...)

                                CHAPTER FIVE


  The umbilical snaked from the airlock towards the small alien craft.  
The latter hovered nearby, giving every impression of hesitation and 
confusion.
  Aboard the larger vessel, a small contingent of Enterprise officers 
waited silently in the reception area at the airlock's internal hatch.  
Kirk had deliberately kept the group at the airlock small.  The last 
thing he wanted his counterpart to have to worry about was a large, 
potentially hostile or threatening force waiting just inside 
Enterprise's door.  With that concern in mind, Kirk had expanded his 
original group to include only the highly intuitive, and apparently 
reactive, members of the crew.   Those two officers, Uhura and 
Pavarti, now waited uncomfortably for the aliens' next move along 
with Kirk, Scotty, McCoy, and a two-man Security detail under Pavel 
Chekov.  Sulu and Spock monitored the situation from the bridge, 
relying on a direct communication/data link Uhura had rapidly 
established at the little workstation near the hatch.  Scotty stood at 
the station, and monitored the instruments in the umbilical.   
  Kirk was tense.  With the mad dash about the solar system behind 
him and nothing left to do but wait, he had too much time to consider 
how utterly helpless and dependent on rescue he seemed to have 
become.  Kirk tried to put himself in the position of the alien 
commander as he assessed the situation.  It wasn't reassuring.  Kirk 
knew that boarding an unknown vessel in Enterprise's condition 
when communications could not be established was more than many, 
perhaps most, commanders would consider.  He was more than 
worried about their chances, and although he did his best to remain 
calm, he hovered near Scotty, carefully watching the engineer 
evaluate readings and make adjustments on controls.   Kirk 
continuously reviewed their situation in his mind, looking for any 
possibility he could exploit that might improve their position.
  The tension in the ship mounted as each minute went by without 
activity from the little round vessel outside. Kirk concentrated on the 
alien commander, that someone who had joined him in the odd dash 
around the solar system in what had seemed to be a desperate effort 
to communicate.  He focused his will on his counterpart in the 
smaller ship.
  "He'll do it,"  Kirk willed.  "He'll take the chance and come aboard."  
  "Sir!"  It was Scotty, his voice terse and tense.  "They've taken the 
umbilical!" 
  Kirk moved quickly to Scotty's side.  The engineer worked carefully 
with his monitor and adjusted the umbilical's sensors.  The others 
shifted uneasily as they awaited further reports.
  "It's pressurizing," the Scot reported crisply.  "A bit less than we're 
used to, but it's not serious.  Atmosphere...breathable...Ah!   Should 
be fine--oxygen, nitrogen--all within acceptable ranges..."  The others 
were completely absorbed in the reports.  Scotty bent over his 
controls, then glanced up quickly.  "There's someone in the umbilical, 
coming through, sir."
  Kirk allowed himself only an instant's feeling of success.  Even as he 
turned toward the hatch, he was already asking himself who the 
alien commander would send, preparing himself mentally for the 
critical negotiations that would follow the boarding.
  Kirk knew his ship could not be saved.  The pain of that knowledge 
stabbed deep in his chest, but he pushed it from him.  His duty was 
to his crew, and he forced himself to focus all his energy and 
attention on securing their survival.
  Suddenly, Scotty exclaimed in surprise.  Kirk turned to him 
immediately.   The others reacted with concern.
  "Trouble, Scotty?," Kirk asked worriedly.
  The engineer shook his head.  "I don't know.  Could be, Captain."  
Scotty checked his instruments carefully.  "We've got more than a 
few of them in the umbilical, sir."
  Kirk cast a quick glance at Chekov and his small Security team.
 "How many of them are there, Scotty?"
  "I can't be certain, Captain.  The readings...I don't know, they're just 
not precise."  The engineer continued to coax  the equipment, shaking 
his head.  "I'd say we're dealing with humanoids, sir, and we have at 
least ten of them in there, Captain."
  Kirk and Chekov exchanged grim looks.  It was a worrisome 
development.  Although Kirk's impressions of the aliens' intentions 
from the contacts thus far were not hostile, he certainly did not have 
a lot to go on!  He wanted a second opinion on this development.
  "Spock, what do you think?," Kirk called to his Science officer.
  The Vulcan's response was immediate.
  "It is doubtful that a vessel that size could carry many more than 10 
or 12 humanoid beings, Captain.  To send the entire contingent to 
make contact with us would not be logical, sir, but their behavior 
thus far has not reflected a high degree of concern with logic.  
Nevertheless, there may be a problem with our sensors.  I shall 
attempt to verify Engineer Scott's conclusions."
  Kirk, Scotty, and Chekov regarded each other knowingly.  They were 
all thinking the same thing:  illogical boarding decisions weren't the 
only possible explanations for this development.
  "Scan for weapons," Kirk announced to Scott and Spock, "both of you.  
I want to know about anything even remotely suspicious."
  Kirk could hear the furrow in Spock's brow in the sound of the 
Vulcan's voice over the audio channel, as the latter considered the 
implications of Kirk's order.
  "Captain," Spock said with concern, "there were no indications of 
weapons systems in our scans of the alien vessel.  If we can rely on 
our sensors, it is very unlikely that this is a hostile boarding party.  
If we cannot rely on our sensors..."
  "I get your point, Spock.  I still want a complete scan of everyone in 
that umbilical before we let them come aboard."  Kirk turned to his 
Captain of Engineering.  "Hold them at the door, Scotty."
  The Scot nodded in quick agreement.  He was not enamored of these 
beings, Kirk noted, and needed little encouragement to suspect them.  
Perhaps he considered it possible that they were responsible for 
EnterpriseUs current condition and predicament.  Kirk had to concede 
that anything was possible, in view of the uncertainty surrounding 
these beings,  but he made a note to keep an eye on the reactions of 
his engineer.
  Scotty and Spock continued to evaluate and cross-check their data.  
Eventually the two officers were satisfied.  Spock made their report, 
via the communications panel.
  "It appears that the sensors are in order, Captain, however, our data 
is still unusually equivocal.  With that in mind, we cannot identify 
any indications of weapons or hostile intent in the group preparing to 
come aboard."
  Kirk frowned and turned to Chekov.
  "How about it, Pavel?"
  The Russian shook his head.  "In this case, vhat ve don't know 
certainly can hurt us, Kepten.  Still...it's not as if ve have a good 'B' 
plan, sair," he said wryly.  "I say ve do it.  Let them in."
  Scotty chimed in with a final report.  "They're right outside the door, 
Captain.  Still no sign of weapons or hostile intent."
  Kirk turned to McCoy with a wordless question.  The doctor shrugged.
  "Speaking for myself,"  McCoy announced, "I just have to know."
  Kirk looked hard at the airlock hatch, then at his assembled officers.  
He made his decision.
  "Open the hatch," he commanded.
  The airlock slid open with a soft hissss,  as the atmospheric pressures 
equalized.

  The aliens erupted from the airlock in an explosion of noise, color 
and light.  In that instant of sharp tension and crisis, born of the 
chaos of the alien party's boarding, Chekov's Security team evaluated 
the confusion, making split-second judgments of whether the activity 
was hostile or harmless.  They hesitated, holding their fire, 
tempering their reactions according to their training and Chekov's 
lead.  A moment later it became apparent that their restraint had 
been well-judged:  as the first rush subsided, they became aware of a 
babble of giggling and laughter swirling around them, coming from 
the aliens who darted between the bewildered members of the crew.  
  Confusion reigned.  
  The Security men looked at Chekov helplessly as the aliens milled 
among them.  It was like no boarding party anyone had ever seen.  
Chekov signalled his team to continue their restraint, and turned to 
Kirk with a look that plainly said, "_What else can we do_?"
  Kirk nodded to Chekov that he understood and approved of 
Security's response, and waited quietly for things to settle down.  In 
a few moments, their group of visitors was slightly more subdued, 
and had gathered together in a little cluster on the opposite side of 
the airlock hatch from where Kirk, Scotty, and McCoy stood watching 
in amazement.  
  The visitors bobbed about to the accompaniment of a cheerful babble 
of random vocalizations, which seemed to Kirk to be somewhere 
between a gargle and a yodel.  He assumed it was laughter.  He 
hoped it wasn't their language--it was an incredibly foolish-sounding 
noise.  
  "If turkeys were humanoid,"  Kirk thought, "they'd sound just 
like that." 
  The three senior officers exchanged bemused looks.  Whatever they 
had been expecting, it hadn't been this.
  Their visitors were humanoid bipeds.  They were all dark, but there 
were subtle differences in the coloring of their hair and skin-tones, 
and no single body-type seemed to predominate.  Their facial 
characteristics seemed most consistent with what had once been 
called a 'mixed-racial type' on Earth. Overall, their appearance gave 
the impression of blended diversity.  
  They were undeniably attractive, Kirk decided, but their two most 
remarkable characteristics were their completely playful, utterly 
undisciplined demeanor, and the distinct impression that they 
glittered.  From head to foot...all over...even their hair...even their...
  They were all wearing loose, semi-transparent, diaphanous clothing.  
They weren't naked--exactly--but the attire made it clear that they 
certainly weren't hiding any weapons on their persons, either.
  Now that the visitors were all more or less in one place, Kirk could 
see that there were actually 8 humanoids in the group.  They 
spanned a full range of ages, from a babe in arms, to young children 
who appeared to be about 8 or 9, to adults, to a single, quite elderly 
man.  They were all touching in some way, Kirk observed, with the 
adults, in particular, running their fingers through the curly hair of 
the children and the old man.  All were clearly excited, and 
thoroughly enjoying themselves.  If they gave any indication of 
concern or discomfort, it was the slight indication that they found the 
reduced heat of the ship a bit brisk in their light attire.  Otherwise, 
they appeared to have not a care in the world.
  Kirk frowned, annoyed that anyone would take the desperate 
situation of his ship and crew so lightly.  He spoke tersely into the 
com-link to the bridge.
  "Spock, get down here," he growled, irritation in his voice.  He looked 
at McCoy in disgust.  "What the hell is this?," he muttered to the 
doctor out of the corner of his mouth.  "A family outing?"
  McCoy gave a disbelieving shake of his head in response, and began 
his medical scans.  Scotty folded his arms across his chest, and gave 
the little group of visitors a long, hard, glare.
  Kirk stepped forward, trying to guess who, if anyone, was in charge.
As he moved past the open airlock, Kirk caught a sudden flash of 
light and rapid movement out of the corner of his eye.  He began to 
turn toward it, and, in the instant before their collision, found 
himself looking at a late arrival.  The latecomer bounded out of the 
umbilical, straight into the arms of Captain James T. Kirk.
  Kirk struggled to restrain his irritation at the giggling being who was 
falling all over him, as well as to keep them both from losing their 
balance completely.  It was a female.  At their present degree of 
proximity, (as Spock would say), and given where Kirk found his 
hands, (which McCoy was surely noticing), there was no mistaking 
the being's gender.  Kirk couldn't help but be acutely aware of the 
soft curves of her body as he involuntarily held her close.  She 
seemed young and blossoming, to his experienced touch, and 
although he was aware of desire, his primary reaction was one of 
awkwardness and annoyance.  
  She apparently found their situation hilarious.  He began untangling 
himself from her immediately.  This was not the time for a tumble 
with one of the local spaceheads!
 He caught his balance,  got a good grip on her arms, and held her 
steady in front of him, determined to hold her at arms' length until 
she had gained the small degree of restraint that apparently passed 
for composure among these people.  As their balance stabilized, he 
reconsidered the situation.   It was an opportunity to study one of 
the aliens up close.   He decided he may as well take advantage of it. 
  He looked at the female in his outstretched arms.  There was time for 
only a quick, fleeting impression of her before his eyes were hit by 
another burst of dazzlingly bright light.  He blinked hard and quickly 
looked away, averting his eyes until the spots had cleared from his 
field of vision.  When he looked back at her again, he did so carefully, 
giving his sight time to adjust.   
  She was young, he decided, appearing to be just at the verge of 
adulthood, but she was almost his height.
  He was taken aback by her eyes.  They were unfocused, with only 
the vaguest suggestion of a pupil and an iris which reminded him of 
fractured crystals.  The iris changed color as he watched, 
accompanied by the sound of the female's soft laughter.  The lack of 
focus in her eyes disturbed him, and despite everything that had 
happened, and all he observed of her reactions, he had the strangest 
sense that he had not fully engaged her awareness or attention.
  He expanded his consideration of her to the rest of her face and head.
  Her features were intriguing.  Like the others, her facial 
characteristics and coloring suggested a mixture of those found in all 
the races of Earth.  However, in her, the combinations were not 
simply attractive, but beautiful, and exotic.  She had deep, richly 
colored brown skin,  and  something in it reflected points of light, as 
if it had been impregnated with tiny bits of mica.  In fact, he noted, 
everything about her seemed to glitter, from the top of her curly, 
mahogany hair,  to the strange covering she wore.
  He had to look at her body carefully, protecting his eyes from the 
unpredictable bursts of light that could flash from her at any 
moment.  As he continued his evaluation, he became aware that 
alone, of all her group, she did not wear the light attire of the others.  
The young woman in his arms wore something made up of a net of 
some kind of small, hard objects, sensors perhaps, that sparkled in 
impossibly rich patterns.  It was the net which apparently emitted 
the almost strobe-like flashes that came from her body when he 
tried to look at her too closely.  As the moments passed, the pulses of 
light became less intense and less frequent, and Kirk was finally able 
to risk a more careful observation of her garment.
  It was stunning.  It reminded him of a web of gems, in which each 
jewel's facets reflected the brilliance of all the others.  It danced 
before Kirk's eyes in a mesmerizing display.
  Kirk released her, and turned to the business at hand, intent on 
salvaging the situation and saving his crew.  He moved toward the 
gurgling little group which still stood beside the airlock hatch, 
lightheartedly watching him deal with the young female.  Kirk asked 
himself whom he should address, particularly since no one appeared 
to be in charge.  He considered the adults carefully.
  The assembled aliens seemed in high spirits as they watched his 
approach.  They giggled even more among themselves as he 
prepared to speak.
  It was not an encouraging sign.  Kirk frowned, and found himself 
becoming nervous.  He decided to direct his remarks toward the old 
man.  He collected his thoughts and prepared to speak.
  The frisky young female was back after his attention in an instant.  
She darted up to his side, clearly attempting to engage him in more 
playful antics.  Kirk reacted unfavorably to the distraction, frustrated 
by the lack of perception of his shipUs situation in her vague, 
unfocused eyes.  He put out his hand to hold her away as he 
continued to approach the others.
  She took hold of him in an instant, with an outrageously playful 
shriek.  Kirk pulled away in annoyance.  The young woman and the 
others responded with delighted surprise.  A broad smile joyously 
filled her face, and Kirk found himself wondering how anyone so, so 
_vague_ could be so persistent.
  She was a pain in the neck.
  She could also be indirectly dangerous, he reminded himself.  If he 
indulged his growing desire to put her in her place and get her out of 
his hair, he might offend these people--perhaps irretrievably.  They 
weren't any of them restrained, professional-looking, Vulcan types, 
he noticed.  Perhaps this was in the range of acceptable behavior 
here.
  Kirk gritted his teeth and resolved to be patient with her.  He 
maneuvered her off to one side.
  "I am Captain James T. Kirk," he announced formally, to the huddled 
little group.
  They grinned back at him cheerily, their blithesome smiles on their 
faces with the vague, unfocused eyes.  Kirk's frown got bigger, and he 
went on.
  "We have been diverted here by an unknown force..."
  The sprightly young woman gave a mischievous chortle, and jumped 
in front of Kirk.  She was even more vivacious than she had been just 
a moment before.  The action provoked a titter among the little 
group Kirk was trying to address. 
  "_I do not need a cheerleader right now_,"  Kirk thought in irritation.
He tried to step past her, but she remained in his way, much to the 
amusement of her friends.  Kirk set his jaw and decided to try to talk 
around her.
  "We have sustained severe damage and loss of life..."
  The little group of sparkling aliens continued to chirrup merrily as 
Kirk bobbed about, trying to convey his ship's desperate situation 
and engage their compassion, while simultaneously  trying to talk 
around the young female in his path.
  "... I'm speaking to you on behalf of my crew. This ship can not 
sustain their lives much longer.  We are in dire need of landing 
privileges on your world," he pleaded.  
  _What was wrong with these people?  Surely they must realize the 
implications of the condition Enterprise was in.  What was going on?_
  "We ask your permission to enter your world.  We will not set foot 
there against your will," Kirk assured them, "but without your 
permission to settle on your world...," he stopped trying to talk 
around the young woman, grasped her firmly at the waist, and lifted 
her bodily to one side as she gave a "Whoop!" of excitement, "...this 
entire crew will surely die," he announced grimly, spelling it out for 
them.  "We need your help," he pleaded.
  The aliens seemed entirely absorbed by his actions with the young 
woman, their high-spirited hilarity bizarrely out of place in the 
context of Kirk's impassioned pleas.  The Captain was stunned.  He 
paused in bewilderment, then turned to the others.  They were 
equally aghast.
  Kirk turned to Uhura, who stood near Pavarti watching the scene in 
open amazement.
  "Uhura, do these people have a clue what I'm saying?," he asked her 
in unbelieving frustration.
  "I don't know, Captain.  My tricorder shows that the Universal 
Translator is fully operational.  But even if it wasn't," she replied in 
bewilderment, "anybody should be able to just, well, look at our 
situation and see what's going on!"  Uhura shook her head as she 
moved to the equipment at Scotty's station.  "This kind of reaction 
and behavior is not normal for humanoids.  I have a feeling we're 
dealing with a lot more than incompatible hardware..."  
  She began punching up information to run a complete check of the 
Translator's operation.
  "Bones!," Kirk demanded.  "These people have ears.  Do your scans 
show they're working?"
  "Absolutely, Jim.  The stuff I'm getting is still weirdly distorted, but I 
feel pretty comfortable on that question."
  "Captain!," Uhura interrupted from where she stood, reviewing her 
first test program.  "We have a big problem, Captain," she pointed to 
her displays worriedly.
  Kirk could see something of the screen.  While his knowledge of the 
system was basic, he needed no help to know he was looking at the 
Universal Translator, Trouble-Shooting program.  There, flashing 
across the screen in clear, bright letters, was the almost-never-seen 
phrase, *CALL OPERATOR,* the automated equipment's distress signal 
that it was entirely unable to independently deal with a particular 
form of communication.
  Kirk shook off the latest attention from the glittering young alien, 
and moved up to Uhura in concern.
  "What does it mean, Uhura?," he asked, noticing that the little female 
had followed him like an over-eager puppy.  "Can you fix it?"
  "I'm not sure it means there's anything broken, Captain.  I'll do my 
best, sir, but if this is linked to their behavior in some way..."  She 
sighed, and knitted her brow.  "...I think we have a big problem, here, 
Captain.  Dr. McCoy, I'm going to need some medical information if 
I'm gonna have a prayer of sorting this out."
  McCoy nodded his understanding.  He turned back toward the 
huddled group by the airlock.  
  "Damn!  They're too close together or something.  I don't seem to get 
individual readings on them."  Uhura looked up from her work at his 
remark.  "They don't read as a group consciousness, but nothing's 
consistent with them being fully individual organisms, either.  They 
seem separate...and yet connected in some way.  Maybe it's the way 
they touch each other...  I don't know," McCoy muttered,as he held 
his scanner before the huddled group of aliens, "I need some good 
individual results, and they're all practically intertwined over 
there..."
  Kirk started to dodge the animated female in the jeweled sensor net 
yet another time, then stopped.  He called to McCoy.
  "I think I know where you can find a 'single' for your readings, 
doctor," Kirk remarked with wry annoyance.   He nodded toward the 
girl.  "I'll keep her busy while you scan."
  Kirk turned the young lady toward him, and focused his attention on 
her with a big smile, much to her obvious delight.  McCoy began his 
scans.  It was easy to keep her occupied, Kirk thought.  All he had to 
do was act completely interested in her, and...
  She spun about in excitement, her attention obviously diverted from 
Kirk by the doctor's actions as he made his medical scans.  She 
bounced about before McCoy in her usual frolicsome manner.  McCoy 
smiled sweetly and held up his medical scanner,  continuing his 
work.
  The girl giggled merrily, reached out, and took McCoy's scanner.
  "You're welcome," McCoy remarked, as he watched the little alien 
hold the object up before her vague eyes.  "Uhura, did we download a 
complete set of data, or do I need to wrestle this little lady to get 
that back?"
  Uhura checked the display.  "Your data on her is unintelligible--
completely distorted.  It looks like we can sort out the scan from the 
group, doctor, but I'm going to need you to interpret it."
  McCoy moved quickly to Uhura, as Spock arrived from the bridge 
and stepped calmly, but briskly into the airlock's receiving area.  
Kirk attempted to move toward the Vulcan, only to find that the 
pretty, young alien female was still following his every move, with 
her usual playful eagerness.
  Spock noticed the young woman.  Her appearance.  Her attire.  Her 
attachment to Kirk.  
  Both eyebrows went up, and the Vulcan's face took on a look that 
clearly communicated his suspicions.
  Kirk practically exploded from barely contained exasperation.
  "Ignore her," he ordered Spock.  "They can't understand us anyway."  
  Spock looked a bit speculative, but remained silent.  Kirk found the 
silence that followed more embarrassing than Spock's usual remarks.  
  "Do you know the situation here since you left the bridge?  Let me 
fill you in," Kirk volunteered.  
  Before Spock could decline the offer, the Captain relayed the strange 
developments with the boarding party to the Vulcan, as efficiently as 
he could.  It wasn't the easiest conversation Kirk had ever had with 
his Science officer.  The little female  continued cozying up to Kirk 
throughout the process.  
  The human did his best to avoid her, without being rude.  She took 
his actions in stride, laughing softly at Kirk's efforts to deflect her 
attentions, and adjusting easily to the presence of his Vulcan friend.  
She seemed to take no notice of the fact that, unlike the rest of the 
Enterprise crew she had encountered thus far, Spock was different.  
Not human. 
 Uhura and McCoy were huddled in intense discussions at Scotty's 
workstation, which they had essentially taken over.  The Scot stood 
to one side, listening silently.  He still appeared coolly reserved, if not 
actually hostile, as he watched events unfold around him.  
  Kirk moved to the station with Spock.  The little alien tagged along 
beside him.
  "Do you have an answer?," Kirk asked McCoy and Uhura, brusquely.
  "Well," McCoy announced, "the short answer is that we have a huge, 
perhaps insurmountable, communications problem, here, Jim.  The 
longer answer is the reason why we believe the short answer.  I 
think the fastest way to explain it is for Uhura to explain how the 
Universal Translator operates in the first place."
  Kirk interrupted with a wave of his hand.
  "That's pretty basic stuff, doctor.  I think we can assume we all know 
about Rhoandan's Universal Constant."  
  Kirk referred to Rhoandan's simple, but profound insight, which had 
led to the development of the Universal Translator and the ability to 
establish inter-species contact.  Rhoandan was credited with the 
fundamental realization that the perceptual/cognitive systems of all 
conscious beings operating in so-called 'normal' space-time, are 
organized on the basis of polarity, that is, the ability to draw of 
distinctions between pairs of opposites, in the field of time.  
  Using her knowledge of how specific species processed and organized 
information, and comparing that to their brainwave scans, Rhoandan 
had discovered that brainwave patterns were pointers which, when 
properly analyzed, revealed a species' specific conceptual framework 
and allowed the generation of equivalent frames of reference 
between two groups.  
  Once Starfleet had that information, it had been relatively simple to 
construct the Universal Translator.  The beauty of the system was 
that the more contact they had with other life-forms, the more 
brainwave patterns were available for the equipment to 
automatically identify as similar to a new species', and draw on by 
analogy.  The steady expansion of Starfleet's brainwave and cultural 
data bases, and the refinement of the technology that scanned and 
processed the brainwaves, was what was eroding the need for 
Uhura's job.
  Like everyone else in the fleet, Kirk took it as axiomatic that any life-
form that was operating in "real world time" was using a conceptual 
framework that was based on duality and the ability to perceive 
differences.  Even the highly evolved or non-corporeal beings they 
encountered used a dualistic system, or accessed the memory of a 
previously used and now "outgrown" dualistic system, whenever the 
species chose to operate in the "here and now."  
  The Universal Constant was just that:  universal and constant as to all 
conscious life operating in normal space and time.  Establishing 
communication with a new species was simply a matter of plugging 
into the right framework in the system.  Kirk waited impatiently to 
find out the source of the difficulty in establishing contact with this 
race of beings.
  "What is it?," Kirk demanded.  "Weren't you able to get a clear 
brainwave scan for analysis?"
  Uhura shook her head.
  "That's not the problem, Captain.  I wish it that simple, but the data 
says it's not.  In fact," she hesitated, as if unwilling to believe her 
own report, "the data suggests that Rhoandan's Universal Constant is 
not applicable to this race."
  Kirk's surprise was immediately followed by disbelief.  Spock's 
reaction was more subdued, but the Vulcan was clearly intrigued by 
the suggestion.
  "That is an astonishing claim, Cmdr. Uhura.  If you are correct, this 
would be the first humanoid species for whom the polarity constant 
did not apply.  Indeed, this would be the first corporeal species of 
any type for whom this would be the case.  I would like to hear the 
evidence supporting your hypothesis."
  Uhura and McCoy had suspected that this request was coming.  They 
exchanged glances to see who would go first.  McCoy took the bait.
  "There are a host of things that support the conclusion that these 
people don't operate out of even a remotely similar system, and 
some of them are observations that are immediately apparent to all 
of us, Jim," McCoy began.   "First, there's the fact that although these 
beings are biologically very similar to humans, and appear capable of 
hearing in all our normal ranges, they aren't responding to our audio 
communication at all.  Second, they aren't responding to what should 
be readily apparent from their own observations, without need of 
any interpretation from us.  The condition of the ship for example.  
How we must feel about it."
  McCoy paused.   Kirk nodded, indicating he understood and agreed 
with the observations.
  "They aren't responding to anything in this contact the way we 
would expect a humanoid species to respond," McCoy continued, "and 
their reactions are especially odd when you consider that we're 
biologically similar creatures in what is obviously a life and death 
situation.  We might expect that these people could be hostile to us.  
They might be indifferent.  They might be concerned, or fearful.   But 
_comedy_ is not an anticipated humanoid response to our situation."
  "Understood, and agreed," Kirk acknowledged impatiently.  He 
wanted McCoy to move along.  He knew he needed complete 
information if they were going to be able to figure out a solution, but 
he resented the time it was taking to convey it.
  Uhura stepped into the discussion quickly.  
  "In addition to those readily observable behaviors, my analysis and 
observations specifically related to the communications specialty are 
strongly indicative of three conclusions."
  Uhura took a deep breath before she went on.
  "My data indicates that these beings have no language and no 
linguistic system, verbal or otherwise.  Also," she said firmly, in her 
clear voice, "there are no indications of metaphoric behaviors or 
representational systems.  Third," she continued, knowing from the 
look on Kirk's face that she would have to go back and explain the 
second point, "the brainwave analysis from the translator showed no 
recognizable pattern from any species we've encountered, including 
the Medusans and the Organians.  There are fragmentary similarities 
to other species, including humans, but in the context of the first two 
problems, they're entirely inadequate to generate any meaningful 
dialogue between us.  
  "In short," she concluded, "we aren't communicating because the 
equipment can't decipher their conceptual framework.  These beings 
operate from a system thatUs so alien, Captain, we can't get the 
common frame of reference that's necessary to understand each 
other."
  Kirk held up his hand for her to stop.
  "Wait a minute, Commander.  Correct me if I'm wrong, but the 
Universal Translator's brainwave analysis works because all 
conscious life, regardless of its biology, relies on perceptual systems 
that are organized around Rhoandan's Constant, isn't that right?"
  Spock looked up from his own review of the data and intervened.
  "You are correct, Captain.  It is a universal constant that all 
intelligent, conscious life-forms that have primary existence in our 
continuum of space-time, regardless of other biological differences,
utilize conceptual systems that are based upon drawing distinctions
between pairs of opposites, in the field of time.  It has been 
definitional that all such consciousness is based on the perception of 
duality, that is, the ability to perceive differences.  The Universal 
Translator brainwave analysis is based on that constant.  It is the 
key insight which has allowed us to communicate with other life-
forms with such a high degree of success."
  "...And brainwave analysis should be able to pick up some 
fundamentally similar patterns that are based on that constant," Kirk 
concluded.  He turned back towards the woman who was telling him 
what he didn't want to hear.
  "This has to be a problem with your equipment, Uhura, some kind of 
damage that isn't immediately apparent.  I mean, let's face it,"  he 
insisted, "this equipment has operated successfully with life-forms 
far more alien than these.  I'm willing to concede the possibility that 
the brainwave constant may not apply to all races at all times, such 
as non-corporeal, multi-dimentional beings, for example.   What I'm 
not willing to agree with, is that the system collapses when we're 
dealing with a humanoid species."  Kirk was obviously very close to 
ordering them to establish communications, and not taking 'no' for an 
answer.
  "Captain," Uhura said wearily, "the evidence is overwhelming that 
these beings are not using a recognizable conceptual system."
  "Perhaps I can assist in clarifying the implications of Cmdr. Uhura's 
observations, Captain," Spock interceded.   Kirk indicated Spock 
should go on.  The Vulcan's voice was calm and soothing.
  "The humanoid conscious mind is an analog of what is sometimes 
called the 'real world.'  It is built up with vocabulary or a lexical field 
whose terms are all metaphors, or analogs of behavior which is found 
in the physical world.  Its reality is on the same order as 
mathematics."
  Spock continued, expertly explaining the basis of Uhura's conclusions, 
knowing that his relationship with Jim Kirk would generate the 
patience and willingness to listen that the human Captain would need 
to understand the situation. 
  "In such a system," Spock continued, "to understand a 'new' thing is 
to arrive at a metaphor for that thing by substituting a reference to 
something more familiar.  The feeling of familiarity is experienced as 
understanding."   
  A natural teacher, Spock continued drawing the connections Kirk 
needed, in steady, even tones.  
  "The use of metaphor is inherent and pervasive in such a conceptual 
system, Captain, and metaphors are based on the ability to perceive 
similarities and distinctions.  In addition, language and linguistic 
systems are themselves based on metaphor.  Your words for 'I am' 
and 'to be', for example, and the concepts they represent, may be 
traced back to terms which originally meant 'it breathes' or 'it grows'.  
While the relationship is hidden, even the most basic terms of your 
language, express concepts which are derived from analogies--
metaphors--drawn from behavior found in the physical world."
  Kirk was listening now, in spite of himself.  
  "In this context, Captain, the absence of a linguistic and metaphoric 
system is extremely significant.  Not only does it render us unlikely 
to be able to establish a basis of communication with these beings, 
consciousness, everywhere, and in every species we have 
encountered, has been a function of lexical metaphor.  The absence of 
these factors is strongly indicative of a species which is not conscious, 
at least not as we understand that term. 
  "Furthermore, if I understand the implications of what I am seeing 
in Dr. McCoy's medical report correctly, the most likely explanation for 
our inability to communicate, and their apparent oblivion to our dire 
situation, is that they do not, in fact, perceive it; that they are 
not operating with a perception of duality, and that they cannot draw 
distinctions between things we would experience as obviously different."
  "Such as life and death, for example?," Kirk asked Spock, sarcastically.
  "Such as life and death, Captain.  The distinction does not appear to 
be part of their conscious experience," Spock affirmed.  
  Kirk didn't know how to take that.
  "How could life possibly exist in that situation?," Kirk demanded 
testily, unwilling to believe what the others seemed to be saying.
  "Well," McCoy offered, "our biological scans offer some clues, Jim.  
Their physiology is amazingly similar to ours in many respects, but 
there's one really remarkable difference--their reticular formation is 
incredible."
  "What the hell is that, doctor?"
  "The reticular formation is made up of tiny internuncial neurons.  It's 
primarily located at the top of the spinal cord, and runs through the 
brainstem, up into the thalmus and hypothalmus.   It has multiple 
direct lines to all major areas of the cortex.  That much is true for 
both our species, but in their case, this system is over 1700 times as 
active as ours.  Their system not only extends down the spinal cord, 
like ours, it's profoundly tied into their peripheral sensory and motor 
systems--even their hair!  In fact, as best I can determine, it's the 
activity of this system that makes them 'sparkle'."
  Kirk knew enough human biology to recognize some of what McCoy 
was describing.
  "Isn't the reticular formation the place in the brain where anesthesia 
produces its effect?," he asked.
  "That's right," McCoy agreed.  "In most humanoid species with this 
feature, the system operates to sensitize or awaken certain selected 
circuits in the nervous system, and desensitize others.  It's involved 
in dreaming, and if you stimulate it, you'll wake up a sleeping 
animal," McCoy explained.  "Cutting it produces permanent sleep and 
coma."
  "Fascinating, doctor.  How does all this help us?"
  McCoy sighed.  "It's useful from the standpoint that it's some clue as 
to why these beings might be built like us, yet perceive things in a 
radically different way.  This formation profoundly influences the 
operation of the sensory and motor systems, and it grades the 
activity of other areas of the brain.  It's very responsive to changes 
in its neurochemistry, and they have some differences in that which 
might be significant.  At this point, all I can say with certainty is that 
what I've observed in the activity and development of their reticular 
system could be significant enough to account for major differences 
in how they experience reality, Jim."
  McCoy searched for the words that would make his opinions clear.
  "In other words, Jim, I think these people have such highly 
developed sensory systems that they probably have no clear 
experience of 'self' and 'other'.  They can get that much more 
information from their nervous system about their environment.  
And, Jim, since--in humans--this is one of the oldest areas of the 
brain, it's entirely possible that they've always been this way."
  "And if that's the case," Kirk reluctantly concluded, acknowledging 
the others' train of thought now, "they may not have an experience 
of life based on the perception of differences or opposites."
  "That's essentially it," Uhura agreed.
  "What the hell do you think they do have as the basis of their 
experience?," Kirk demanded.
  The others exchanged glances.
  "Something based on unities...a sense or feeling of...oneness, I guess," 
Uhura offered, hesitantly.  "You see, sir, this is the problem.  We 
can't really imagine what their conceptual system is, or how it 
operates."
  "_So how the hell do we establish a common frame of reference for 
communication?_,"   Kirk asked himself, as he turned away, angrily.  
He was not going to accept the idea that the situation was impossible.  
His face set grimly as he glanced around the room, looking for some 
option.
  His gaze fell on Pavarti, who stood nervously and insecurely off in a 
corner.  
"_What the hell is he doing here?_,"  Kirk wondered.  Then he 
remembered:  Pavarti was highly intuitive.  Like Uhura.  Like Kirk.  
  He'd ordered Pavarti down there because the most intuitive humans 
among the crew had seemed to be reacting to something while 
Enterprise was trying to establish contact with the alien vessel.
  Kirk stared hard at Pavarti.  The young officer shifted self-
consciously, and began to sweat.
  They'd all picked up the same odd, seemingly meaningless words, 
Kirk thought.  Words like 'play,' and 'fun.'  Kirk glanced at where the 
alien group stood amusing themselves, completely oblivious to how 
foolish they appeared to the Starfleet personnel.  
  He'd had the desire to giggle, Kirk reminded himself, turning to look 
at the young woman who still stood cooing at his side.  
  He turned back toward Pavarti, an expression of intense concentration 
on his face.  The Ensign squirmed.
  "_Maybe we're going about this all wrong_,"  Kirk thought.  Maybe 
there was an answer, but it wasn't going to be gained from sticking 
with the usual, dignified forms.  They had a crude sort of minimal 
contact established through the humans' intuition.  Kirk had gotten 
the aliens aboard the ship by his willingness to follow his instinct to 
'play' outside, in the shuttle.   Maybe there were some possibilities 
after all.
  Maybe what they needed was to access some other "Universal 
Constant," besides the duality principle, Kirk said to himself.  
  The little alien took his hand and smiled at him, in her pleasant, 
unfocused way.  She still wanted attention, Kirk noted, distractedly.  
He was no longer annoyed.  His mind was absorbed in finding the 
solution to this puzzle.
  What was the other Universal Constant of their Starfleet experience?
  The young female ran her fingers playfully across Kirk's hair, 
drawing her fingertips along his temples, and lightly over his 
cheekbones, to the tip of his nose, and then, with a giggle, down to 
his lips.  
  Kirk did his best to ignore her, and the sensations brought 
up by her actions.  He forced his mind to recall anything he had ever 
read about consciousness and conceptual systems.  The small amount 
of contact they had established through intuition showed there was 
some overlap in their conceptual circles, however small and 
subconscious it might be...
  "That's it!," Kirk announced to the startled officers.  "Uhura, I want 
you to rig the Translator so it is operating entirely out of our 
subconscious.  Get rid of every vestige of our conscious framework 
that you can..."
  The others were shaking their heads.
  "You don't know what you're asking, Captain..."
  "Jim, it won't work..."
  Kirk closed on them quickly, determinedly.
  "I don't want to hear it," he barked.  "You say these people can't 
experience differences, that they operate from a sense of...of 
oneness?  Fine!  The human subconscious senses underlying 
unities, does it not?"
  "But it can't work, Captain!  We experience it by metaphor--and they 
don't have metaphors for us to decipher and link up with..."
  "Uhura!"   Kirk cut her off.  "This is an order.  You take that 
Translator, and you do whatever you have to do to put these people 
in direct communication with our subconscious!"
  Kirk turned to stride away.  The little alien was still in his path.  He 
started to avoid her, then changed his mind.   
  "_Screw it_,"  he thought.  "I may as well try stuff out on this one!"
  He resigned himself to the young lady's attentions, and waited for 
Uhura to finish with the equipment.

                                    (To be continued...)

Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Path: moe.ksu.ksu.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!rpi!usenet.coe.montana.edu!nntp.uoregon.edu!cie.uoregon.edu!eisimps
From: eisimps@cie.uoregon.edu (Eileen Simpson)
Subject: The Great American Star Trek Novel, Ch. 6
Message-ID: <1992Aug29.050733.4376@nntp.uoregon.edu>
Summary: Revenge of the Feminist Trekkies
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Organization: University of Oregon Campus Information Exchange
Date: Sat, 29 Aug 92 05:07:33 GMT
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(Our story continues...)

                      THE GREAT AMERICAN STAR TREK NOVEL
                       "Where No *Man* Has Gone Before"

                                CHAPTER SIX

  "If I can do this," Uhura muttered as she struggled with the 
equipment that now ringed the small workstation, "I can do 
anything.  I mean it, Scotty," she snarled, "if I can get communication 
going between _these_ two groups, I'm gonna go bring peace to 
Northern Ireland."
  "There is peace in Northern Ireland, lass," he said quietly, as he 
helped her wrestle a connector into place.  "But why don't you try 
something a little less touchy.  Like the Captain's relationship with 
certain Klingons?"
  Uhura glared at her friend.
  "The way I feel about our illustrious Captain right now, I would love 
to give him to those Klingons!  With a few suggestions of things they 
might want to do to him--as a personal favor to me!"
  Scotty gave her a small, tired laugh of sympathy.
  "Well, just stay with it, lass.  You do this, and you get to be the new 
miracle worker on the ship.  I've put the title up for grabs," the Scot 
said sadly.
  Uhura's heart ached.  Scotty needed help.  She meant to be sure that 
he got it.
  At long last she was ready--at least as ready as she'd ever be.  She 
called the others over to the station.
  "This is going to be slow," she announced, "and it's going to be 
cumbersome.  I've tied into every memory bank in the main 
computer, and it'll be accessing anything in memory that seems 
even remotely related to any  prior forms of recognizable 
communication it's picked up.  It's not going to produce anything 
close to a precise translation, and I'm probably gonna have to do a lot 
of manual analysis of anything that does come out, but that's the best 
I can do."
  "_And if it works, it'll be a miracle_," she thought testily, as she took 
her place at the computer station she'd established.
  "I'm certain that if it's your best work, it will be enough," Kirk 
offered sincerely.
  "_Lizard_,"  thought Uhura, as she put on her audio monitor.
  There was a moment of uncertainty, as everyone wondered, "Now, 
what?"  What, exactly, did they do to use the system?  Talk? They 
decided to try everything--verbal and nonverbal communication--at 
once.
  "We want to get off this ship, and down on the surface," Kirk 
reminded his party.  "Let's try everyone thinking and feeling about 
that, while I talk to our little friend here."  He indicated the young, 
ever-playful, ever-attentive female.
  The others nodded.  No one had a better idea.  They cleared their 
minds, and thought about being able to leave the ship, of going down 
to the planet's surface, of being together with the aliens on their 
world.  Uhura had a quick conversation with Pavarti.  At her 
suggestion, the two of them concentrated on only the last piece of the 
survival plan--of being together with the aliens.
  Kirk stepped up to the pretty little female who had followed him so 
persistently.  His enormous experience with his persuasive powers 
with women immediately moved into play.  He trusted his technique.  
  He stood before her, and gently took hold of her upper arms.  She 
made a silly-sounding titter in response.  He tried to look deeply and 
soulfully into her eyes--her vacant, unfocused, unnerving eyes. He 
recovered his concentration, and talked impassionedly, from his 
heart.  He gazed compellingly at the beautiful, budding young 
woman, and spoke earnestly of his needs for his ship and crew.
  "We need you," he told her, honestly and dramatically.  He pulled her 
closer.  
  "We need your help," he pleaded, as he held her in his arms.  "We 
need to be able to go with you, be with you."  Kirk spoke to her 
softly, with his feelings completely engaged as he spoke.  As he 
talked to the young woman, she seemed more relaxed.  He had the 
feeling she was being affected by their interaction.  He couldn't help 
but notice her more, himself.  Her physical charms were obvious.
She was so young.  So beautiful.  So close.  
  The sexual energy between them was incredible.
  "_Wow_!,"  Pavarti thought, thoroughly impressed by the rhythms of 
the exchange he was watching.  He was absorbed in his fascination 
with Kirk's sophisticated technique.  He resolved he'd make Captain.  
His mind began to wander.  "_Talk about suave_!," Pavarti noted in 
admiration.  As he watched his Captain handle the lovely girl with 
such a warm, friendly giggle, Pavarti began to consider the 
possibilities of _really_ connecting with these other beings.
  The group of aliens stopped entertaining themselves, and began 
watching the exchange between Kirk and the young female.  They 
showed a playful, friendly curiosity in what was going on.  They 
began to move closer.
  "**Intimate**," came a soft, feminine voice from the computer, so quietly 
that only Uhura could hear.  "**Very intimate**."
  "_My gosh, it's working!_,"  Uhura thought.  She was quickly absorbed 
in handling her equipment.
  Kirk continued to gaze soulfully at the little female in his arms.  She 
became quiet, almost submissively vulnerable, as he held her.
  "We need to be able to be with you," he told her softly.  "We need to 
know what we have to do for that to happen.  Can you tell us?," he 
asked her, gently.
  There was a long silence.  Kirk repeated his request several times, 
varying his voice, staying soft, staying caring.  Being, inevitably, 
seductive.
  "**Intimate.  Very intimate**," the voice said again, quite clearly, in a 
volume everyone could hear.  This time, after a moment, the voice 
continued.  "**Know all...completely...very intimate. Joined...together.  
Come.  Come.**"
  "_What the heck is this?_", Uhura wondered.  "_Where's this coming 
from?_"   She felt confused, then quickly became suspicious.  She 
looked up from her work, and noted the position of the Captain and 
the alien girl.  She checked the body-language of the males in 
Starfleet's group.  Her friends looked a little embarrassed by the 
girl's remarks, but not surprised.  
  "_Great!_," Uhura thought.  "_Welcome to the Starfleet subconscious_."  
  Kirk had suddenly become acutely aware of the other people in the 
room.  He had the feeling he could probably  guess what the little 
lady was trying to tell him.  She needed to know this wasn't the time.  
  He couldn't just ignore her remarks, but what could he say?  What if 
his impressions were wrong?  He tried to read confirmation of his 
suspicion in the look on the girl's face.  It was useless. Her facial 
expression revealed nothing to him--he was stymied by the 
blankness of her eyes.  
  As far as Kirk could tell, she most resembled a foolish, perpetually 
cheerful, somewhat dim, over-active puppy.  
  Kirk decided to pass the buck.
  "What do you make of that, Bones?," he asked crisply.
  McCoy wasn't touching this one at all.  He looked at Uhura and Scotty.  
They weren't going near it either.
  "I'm not sure," the doctor offered hesitantly.  "What do you think, 
Spock?"
  The Vulcan appeared unaffected by the exchange.  He was evaluating 
the reactions of the other aliens in the room.  They were moving 
closer to the humans all the time, in a light-hearted, merry little 
mob.
  "Fascinating."  Spock turned back toward Kirk.  "I believe we have 
been invited to join them.  You have succeeded, Captain."
  The others looked at Spock somewhat dubiously.
  "You think so, Spock?," Kirk asked, uncertainly.  "I don't know, it's 
awfully ambiguous. I just don't feel sure..."
  "You could attempt to clarify the situation nonverbally, Captain,"  
Spock offered.  
  Kirk looked openly skeptical of the suggestion.
  "_I hope to be present for that occasion_,"  McCoy thought.
  Kirk didn't know what to do.  He let go of the girl's arms while he 
thought things over.
  The young alien raised her hands to his face, and gently touched her 
fingers to the hair at the edge of Kirk's temples.  Kirk was startled.  
She laughed softly as he recovered, then moved her fingertips lightly 
along his hairline and the edge of his face.   
  At his sideburns, she encountered the rough, prickly sensations of 
his beard.  It was her turn to be startled.  She laughed in momentary 
surprise, then continued her exploration of his cheeks and chin. She 
seemed delighted.
  Kirk did his best to control his embarrassment, and his reaction to 
her touch.  He didn't know where this was going, but it wasn't painful 
to anything more than his dignity, and he supposed it might actually 
help them get the permission they needed to disembark.  He forced 
himself to focus on the crew's need to evacuate to the surface of the 
planet.
  Her fingertips were brushing his lips.
  "Do you understand what we need?," he asked her quietly, in a 
whisper the others couldn't hear.  All his compassion, hope, and 
concern for his crew were in the simple inquiry.  "Help us," he 
begged her.
  "**Home.   Kamacara.  Suttee.**"
  Uhura began working intensely at the portable computer station, 
running an analysis of the unknown terms.  Kirk waited excitedly for 
her report.  It looked like now they were getting somewhere.
  "It's not immediately clear what's intended by the use of the 
particular words, 'kamacara' and 'suttee', sir," Uhura explained.  
"There are a variety of cultural interpretations and meanings 
suggested when they come up in combination."
  "What do they mean separately, Uhura?," Kirk ordered.
  "'Suttee' is Sanskrit, Captain.  It's a form of the word, 'to be.'  The 
other word is a compound, also from Sanskrit.  It means, 'to move 
through the world at pleasure, or with pleasure.'  The juxtaposition 
can be tricky to interpret.  I need to work on it a little longer."
  Kirk signalled his approval with an inclination of his head.  He 
evaluated the words in his own mind, as the girl's hands tranced the 
lines of his shoulders.
  "Uhura," he asked, "is the 'kama' in that word the same 'kama' as in, 
say, for example, 'kama sutra'?"
  "Yes, Captain.  'Kama' is the term for the ancient Indian pleasure 
principle," Uhura confirmed, then went back to her analysis.
  Kirk raised his eyebrows.  He looked at the little group of aliens.  
They now stood quite close to him.  They were still milling about, 
laughing...and touching.  It appeared to be an easy-going sensuality.  
  And those clothes!  He turned back to the young woman.  She ran her 
fingertips lightly down his arms.
  Kirk smiled.
  "**Intimate.  Joined.  Very intimate. _Us_**."
  Well, Kirk thought, he had never seen any indication that she was 
shy.
  "Captain!," Uhura called joyfully, and with wonder in her voice.  "I 
think Mr. Spock is right!  We've done it!"  Everyone in the room 
turned toward her in relief.  She went on.  "It looks like these two 
words are intended to convey a host of information, but all of it is 
favorable!  The reference to 'home' is obvious.  The other words are 
an invitation: 'to be home, moving through their world at pleasure'!"  
Uhura was ecstatic.  "We did it, sir."
  The humans and aliens joined in a little dance of celebration.
  "There's one thing more, though, Captain."  Uhura came up and stood 
beside Kirk before she went on, a little more discretely.  Her manner 
showed some concern about being overheard, but it was clear it 
wasn't directed towards the aliens.  
  It was with the other Enterprise officers, all of whom were within 
hearing distance of the Captain.  Kirk raised his eyebrows in a sign of 
inquiry, and, in his newly happy mood, gave Uhura a wave that 
clearly said she shouldn't worry about the others, and should just tell 
him whatever else he needed to know.
  "That particular juxtaposition, Captain,  also occurs in communications 
with the Sa'o peoples of Archemedes III.  The presence of the verb 'to be' 
suggests an invitation that is dependent upon establishing a relationship.  
Among the Sa'o, 'To be Kamacara' is to be bond-partnered in a highly 
committed form of state marriage, dedicated to a high degree of intimacy 
and to promoting the exchange of pleasure between two newly acquainted groups. 
In the context of her attention to you, and her other remarks about a 'very 
intimate joining', I think we're being told that such a relationship is 
expected here, between the two of you."  Uhura indicated the Captain 
and the young, alien lady.
  Everyone paused.  Kirk stared at Uhura momentarily, then turned 
away for a long, silent, moment.
  "Now let me get this straight," he began, as he spun back toward her.  
"We can go with them, to their home, down on their world," Uhura 
nodded agreement, "but I need to agree to be in a...very 
intimate...relationship...where I join with her...know her completely...
and promote pleasure.  Is that it, Commander?"
  "Promote pleasure among our peoples," Uhura clarified, as she 
indicated her agreement with the rest of his remarks.
  "Right.  Right."  Kirk acknowledged.  "And I do that, by joining with 
her,"  he gestured toward the little female who had pursued him 
since their first encounter, "very intimately, and knowing her 
completely."  Once again, Uhura agreed.  "And I have to do it,"  Kirk 
emphasized, "or we can't evacuate the crew to the surface."
  "That's how I see it, sir," Uhura  acknowledged.
  Kirk turned away again, and thought some more.  The other human 
males in the room stood gaping in open-mouthed amazement.
  Kirk turned back around.  "I'll do it," he said nobly.
  Spock frowned.  "Are you certain, Captain?  I am aware of the 
delicacy of our situation.  Nevertheless, you should be certain of what 
you are agreeing to do.  Cmdr. Uhura's information is necessarily 
imprecise in regards to the exact content of the relationship you are 
accepting the responsibility to engage in.  I have some familiarity 
with the relationships of the Sa'o encompassed in the concept she is 
describing.  If this relationship is similar to those of the Sa'o, it would 
create extraordinary difficulty for us if you were to contract such a 
relationship and then find yourself unable or unwilling to perform." 
  Kirk recalled some stories about the Sa'o, himself.   
  "I don't think you need to be concerned with my ability to perform, 
Spock," he said confidently.
  Spock frowned again.  "I am simply suggesting that you should 
attempt to clarify the precise expectations of any relationship before 
you agree to engage in it, Captain."  Spock's voice sounded unusually 
stiff.
  The little alien female observed their exchange from where she now 
stood, among her friends.  The others of her group were running 
their fingers lightly over her body and through her hair.  They cooed 
together in easy intimacy.  She reached out and took Kirk's hand.
  "**Joined.  Together.  Fun.  Play.  Come.  Come.**"
  Kirk laughed, a trifle self-consciously.
  "I think you're just going to have to trust my human intuition that I 
know what's called for, Spock."
  Kirk took a last look at the playful little alien, who stood before him, 
holding his hand.
  "I accept," Kirk said simply.

  The little group of aliens seemed remarkably happy, Kirk thought.  
But then, they always seemed remarkably happy, he remembered.  They had 
been happily chirping away when he was desperately trying to save his 
crew, he reminded himself.  Still, Kirk breathed in relief, it seemed to 
have worked out amazingly well.
  Not much had happened since his agreement of 10 minutes before to 
become...what was it?  Kama-something, ah!, bond-partner, to the 
little female who had been pestering him since their first arrival.  
Since then, Kirk had been allowing himself to be cosseted and petted 
by the girl and her companions.  Although it felt sensual, it wasn't 
particularly embarrassing anymore, especially since the touching 
wasn't occurring on any intimate body parts, or in an overtly sexual 
manner.
  It was simply inherently caring and intimate.
  "Oh, well,"  he sighed.  It wasn't the usual behavior a Starfleet 
Captain wanted to engage in in front of his crew, but he was simply 
going to have to learn to cope.  That wasn't an entirely unpleasant 
thought.  The little female might be young, Kirk decided, but she was 
clearly 'of age'.  
  True, she struck him as foolish, not to mention, somewhat vague and 
dim, Kirk mused, but she appeared to have other...compensations...for 
these deficiencies.  If this relationship was at all like the stories he 
had heard about the Sa'o, getting 'very intimately' 'joined' so he could 
'know her completely' would be just the kind of diversion he needed 
while he figured out how he was going to save the ship and get them 
home.
  In fact, the only thing that intruded on his enjoyment of the 
attention he was receiving, and his anticipation of how he would 
'help promote the exchange of pleasure among their peoples', were 
his persistent, intense feelings of determination that he was going to 
use this new relationship so they wouldn't be marooned, forever, 
among these beings.  Kirk was going to discover their secret and find 
a way to save his ship and go home.  He was convinced it was 
possible.  Why not?  Every other 'impossibility' had been overcome.  
Why not this one, too?
  The Starfleet personnel in the original reception group remained at 
their stations, observing the aliens' attention to their Captain.  Kirk 
couldn't help but notice a certain ambivalence and cool reserve in the 
behavior of many of his officers.  You would think they would be 
pleased with their survival and his good fortune, Kirk thought.  He 
took their reactions as vague feelings of jealousy.  It was beneath 
them, Kirk felt.  Especially, Spock.
  Kirk was beginning to tire of the activity with the girl and her 
friends.  True, he hadn't done anything taxing, but they'd been 
touching him for at least 15 minutes, now.  Surely they realized that 
there were other things he needed to do!  The evacuation would be 
an enormous task.  And besides, where were these people going to 
settle his crew?  The experts' assessment of the probable culture of 
beings such as these, indicated it was very unlikely that they had 
any significant experience with or reliance on hierarchies, but Kirk 
still found it hard to believe that this little group could simply plop 
them down on the world below, without so much as a 'by-your-leave' 
to anyone else about it.
  What were they going to say about the Enterprise crew when they 
got down there?  Some sort of nonverbal equivalent of, "Hey, mom!  
Look what I found out in space!  Can I keep 'em?"
  The touching stopped, and the aliens moved away.  Kirk's human 
officers noticed the activity, and revived from their boredom.  They 
waited for the next move.
  The aliens tittered as the little female came forward and stood 
directly in front of Kirk.  She moved closer to him, and gently took 
hold of his upper arms.  She inclined her head slightly, and looked up 
at his face, with a little giggle.  Kirk could swear she was trying to 
gaze into his eyes.
  The feminine voice came softly from the computer.
  "**Kamacara.   Bond-partner.  Intimate.  Now.**"
  Kirk felt nonplussed.  McCoy raised his eyebrows, and shot a quick 
glance at Scotty. _This_ was interesting.
  Kirk hesitated.  The aliens tittered again.  The little female pulled 
him closer, and continued to look up at Kirk with her vague eyes.  
  They were almost touching.  Kirk found himself noticing the intensity 
of their breathing, noticing the way her breasts moved as she 
breathed, noticing her body so close to his.
  The feminine voice from the computer spoke again.  This time, more 
insistently.
  "**Bond-partner.  Intimate. _Us_. Now.**"
  Kirk's human subordinates avoided each others' eyes and looked at 
the floor.  Spock caught Kirk's eyes squarely, with just the slightest 
hint of a dare in the Vulcan's manner.   Kirk had to ignore the 
suggestion of insubordination.   He adopted his most authoritative, 
Starfleet Captain pose.  He did his best to appear casual, and yet in 
command of the situation.  Behind the facade, it was a different 
story.
  "_Here_?,"  he thought.  His eyes furtively surveyed the reception area, 
widening involuntarily as they encountered the area's tiny 
worktable.  "_She can't mean, here_?"
  There was an extended silence.  Kirk's subordinates waited for 
instructions.  By unspoken agreement, no one was going to bail Kirk 
out of this one.  They knew his embarrassment was worse than 
theirs, and in an astonishing and unexpectedly unanimous reaction, 
they were enjoying it.
  "**Bond-partner.  Very Intimate.  Us.  _Now_.**"
  "_Well_,"  Kirk thought, "_apparently, she does mean here_."    How long 
had it been since heUd been "very intimate" on a starship worktable?  
  A _long_ time, he thought--and never in the line of duty.
  And never with an audience.  Some things, Jim Kirk was not into.  He 
couldn't do anything about her  people, but he certainly could do 
something about his.
  "All right," he growled to the Enterprise  contingent, as he stepped 
back from the girl.  "You heard the lady.  Everybody out."  
  Kirk's eyes met Spock's defiantly, in a way that said, "I'm still in 
charge, here."  Spock raised his eyebrows in response.  He turned to 
leave with a sardonic expression on his supposedly poker-face.  The 
human officers avoided Kirk's eyes and each others' as they filed out 
of the room.
  Kirk's posture remained erect and commanding as he watched them 
go.  He was in control, it said.  
  And he was.  When the others had disappeared from view, Kirk 
turned to his bond-partner.  He was ready for whatever they were 
going to do next.  
  Except for that small part of him that was wondering how  he was 
gonna write the report on this one!
  "With lots of details!,"  some other part of him answered.
  The young woman stepped up to him, almost shyly.  Kirk took her 
hand.

  The Enterprise officers moved down the corridors until they were a 
comfortable distance away from the receiving area.  They stood 
together in a group.  Still not talking.  Still not looking at one another.  
Still not knowing what to say.
  McCoy reminded himself that he had patients to check on, and 
moved back up the corridor to have some privacy while he was 
updated on their conditions.  He stopped a discrete distance away 
from the locations of both his fellow officers and the reception area.  
The doctor signalled sick bay on a communicator, then waited while 
they retrieved the information he required and set up a secure 
channel to convey it.
  From his position at a junction with one of the corridors they had just 
travelled, McCoy could easily observe the senior officers he knew so 
well.  Spock seemed to be his usual, possibly deceased, Vulcan self.  
But the others...
  It was the doctor's first conscious awareness that the others were 
very, very annoyed.  Suddenly McCoy realized that he was, too.  
  "What the hell is this about?,"  he asked himself.   He was surprised 
to find that for him, it was about Jim Kirk.  The discovery confused 
him.  It wasn't like Kirk had set this up to happen.  Why should he be 
so angry with Jim?
  A short distance up the corridor from him, McCoy heard Pavel 
Chekov uncharacteristically snap at one of his Security people.  "_Now, 
what in blazes should be eating Chekov?_,"  McCoy wondered.
  Then it hit him: in the course of Chekov's Starfleet career, McCoy 
had personally treated the man for the medical consequences of 
being frozen, fried, tortured, radiated, over-sampled, brain-altered, 
and dropped on his head.  It had made Chekov a natural for a 
position with Starfleet Security, but it had not been an easy career 
for Pavel Illiyich Chekov.
  In a sudden flash of insight, McCoy realized that whatever peace 
Pavel had made with himself around these experiences, had 
undoubtedly come from the knowledge that they had occurred in 
service to the Federation and its peoples, in the course of significant 
crises--sometimes crises of galactic importance.  It was in the line of 
duty.
  McCoy  considered the other senior officers who stood together in the 
little group.  They had all had similar experiences and feelings.  It 
came with the job.
  Then he had it, the source of their unanimous, "unreasonable" anger 
toward Jim Kirk.  
  To the best of McCoy's knowledge, James Tiberious Kirk was the only 
officer in the fleet whose professional crises regularly required that 
he get laid as part of the solution.  It was a distinct discrepancy in 
the quality of Kirk's crisis experiences, and those of the rest of their 
Starfleet careers.  Kirk's officers were fed up with it.
  Flushed with this new awareness, McCoy bitterly recalled what 
usually happened to him in the course of his professional crises.  The 
doctor readily concluded that he would immediately exchange any of 
his experiences for the 'hazards' and possible embarrassment of 
'very intimately' bond-partnering with some lovely, shimmering, 
young thing!  But, of course, he was not going to be able to do that, 
McCoy recognized.  Only _Kirk_ got to take those kinds of risks.  
  "For the sake of the crew, for God's sake!,"  McCoy fumed.
  It wasn't fair!  Why, if Kirk ever had to save the galaxy, he would get 
to use his...
  McCoy noticed a figure signalling him from a junction down the 
corridor that led directly to the reception area.  It was Kirk, waving 
to attract McCoy's attention.  
  "_Whatever he needs, I don't want to hear about it_," McCoy thought.  
The doctor ignored him. 
  Kirk's waves became more vigorous.  "_He doesn't look like he's in 
trouble," McCoy told himself. The doctor pretended to be absorbed in 
working the communicator.  
  The Captain was looking frustrated.  He seemed to be trying to figure 
out a way to shout 'quietly' to get McCoy's attention.
  "Bones!  Bones!" Kirk's harsh whisper floated faintly to the doctor's 
ears.
  Finally, McCoy could no longer credibly pretend that he couldn't tell 
his Captain was trying to get his attention.  He slipped around the 
corner and down to the junction where Kirk waited for him  with impatience, but with obvious relief.
  The Captain looked worried and confused, McCoy noticed as he 
approached, but he didn't look scared.  
  Kirk checked around before he spoke, giving every impression that 
he wanted to make certain they weren't overheard.
  "_What's he worried about_?,"  McCoy wondered.  "_It's not like the 
aliens are gonna understand anything he says when he's away from 
that contraption Uhura's rigged up_."
  McCoy strode unsympathetically up to his Captain.
  "What's the problem?," he asked Kirk briskly.
  Kirk leaned forward cautiously, and whispered his concerns to his 
friend.
  "Bones," Kirk said in bewilderment, "I don't have a clue what I'm 
supposed to be doing with that person!"
  McCoy's face registered surprise, then wicked delight.  To Kirk's 
dismay, a gleeful grin quickly spread across the doctor's face.
  "Another historic occasion!,"  McCoy announced with a cackle.  "But 
don't worry, Jim.  You've come to the right place for help!"

  Kirk quickly, and unamusedly, ordered McCoy to fetch Spock.   
  Watching the Vulcan approach him a few moments later, Kirk had an 
even more intense sensation of embarrassment and nervousness:  
Kirk could tell from his walk that Spock was going to be smug--as 
only a Vulcan can be.
  "Captain," Spock said casually, as he walked up to his old friend, "I 
had not expected to see you so...soon."
  Kirk decided to hide behind the authority of his position. 
  "Yes, well, there seems to be a...communication problem with 
the...young lady, Spock," Kirk said authoritatively.  "I need your help 
to resolve it."
  McCoy grinned lewdly at Spock.  Kirk glared him down until the 
doctor assumed a veneer of propriety.
  "I was under the impression that our communication difficulties 
were readily apparent before you asked us to leave you alone with 
the young lady," Spock mercilessly observed.  "And that you felt you 
had enough information to proceed without our assistance."
  "Yes, perhaps I made an error," Kirk conceded, as he attempted to 
bluff his way through the conversation. "Nevertheless, the...ah, 
response she expects is...unclear to me.  You commented earlier, 
Spock, about your familiarity with Kamacara relationships among the 
Sa'o," Kirk continued quickly.  "I thought you might be able to 
provide some information or some insight that would cut through the 
confusion."
  "If you have questions about the kamacara relationship,Captain, 
Cmdr. Uhura is an acknowledged expert in the field.  I am certain she 
would be pleased to assist you..."
  "I'd rather not involve Uhura," Kirk interrupted.  "I'm sure the three 
of us can resolve this."
  "Indeed?," Spock queried.  "In that event, how would you describe 
your difficulty with your kamacara, Captain?,"  Spock asked 
neutrally.  
  McCoy smirked, and looked toward the ceiling with exaggerated innocence.
  "I'm encountering...an...apparent discrepancy...between what she said 
she wanted and, ah...what...she..." Kirk foundered, and struggled to 
finish the thought before he sank, "...what she expects," he finally 
concluded.
  "And what did she say she wanted, Captain?"
  "Cut it out, you two," Kirk finally barked in irritation.  "You know 
what she said!"
  "Quite so, Captain," Spock agreed calmly.  "However, if I am to help 
decipher the communication block between you, I must know what 
you _heard_."
  Kirk looked annoyed and defensive.  "I heard just what she said:  
that we were going to be very intimate, now, the two of us."
  "Correct," Spock agreed.
  "Well, now she's not--going along with it!," Kirk explained in 
frustration.  "You said you were familiar with the Kamacara 
relationships of the Sa'o, Spock.  I need your help to come up with 
the right--approach."
  "I see."  
  Spock considered Kirk's problem thoughtfully.  His brow furrowed.   
He evaluated Kirk's recent behavior.  He looked at McCoy and 
considered the doctor's recent demeanor and comments, correlating 
all of this with his years of observations of human behavior, and his 
knowledge of both his friends. 
  "May I ask a question, Captain?"
  "Of course."
  Spock appeared to be considering a puzzling possibility he was 
hesitant to voice.
  "Am I to understand, Captain, that you," it was clear Spock included 
McCoy in his remark, "believe this conversation has something to do 
with...sex?"
  Kirk and McCoy both looked at Spock in astonishment that he would 
even need to ask such a question.
  "Of course it has to do with sex!  What do you think we're talking 
about, Spock?" 
  Spock's face registered innocent surprise.
  "I believed we were talking about a relationship similar to those of 
the Sa'o, Captain."
  "That's right, Spock."  Kirk suddenly recalled some of the more exotic 
reports in circulation about the Sa'o, and was struck by a possible 
explanation for his friend's apparent reticence on this subject.  "Look, 
Spock, I didn't mean to embarrass you or offend Vulcan concepts of 
propriety..."
  "I am neither embarrassed nor offended, Captain.  I am simply 
unable to understand why you believe sex is involved in this 
discussion.  You are aware, of course, that it is unusual for kamacara 
relationships to involve sex between the participants?"
  From the look on Kirk's face, McCoy could see that he wasn't.  
  "Ohhhhh my!"  McCoy thought.  A smile slowly spread across the 
doctor's face as he considered the new possibilities this raised.  He 
had the feeling he would like where this was leading.
  "That's...that's not true!," Kirk sputtered.  "Spock, I've heard or read 
literally dozens of stories about the Sa'o and these kamacara 
partnerships.  They make Wrigley's Planet sound like the Ladies 
League convention!  They..."
  "Ah, yes," Spock nodded, interrupting.  "The Woran, the Chrisan, and 
the Loran subcultures.  The only 3 groups among the Sa'o who 
sexualize the kamacara relationship.  I have never understood," 
Spock mused, "why groups representing less than one percent of the 
Sa'o peoples, would receive such disproportionate interest and study 
from Starfleet anthropologists."  
  McCoy was pleased to see Kirk's face showing increasing signs of 
concern.  
  "The Sa'o cultures are truly remarkable and unique," Spock 
continued, with genuine respect, and a tinge of sadness in his voice.  
"It is very unfortunate that the habits of only three groups have so 
dominated the awareness of this culture in the fleet." 
  McCoy watched Kirk work through the shock of what he was hearing.  
Obviously, this was all news to Jim.
  "One percent?," Kirk asked, in stunned disbelief. 
  "Slightly less than that, Captain," Spock corrected.  "The exact 
percentage is 0.84796, based on the statistical data of the last 
planetary census conducted in..." 
  Kirk quickly waved him off.  The Captain shook his head.  "But she 
said...  Spock, she said, the translation said, everyone said this was a 
very intimate relationship!"  Spock appeared momentarily 
confused by Kirk's remarks.  "Intimacy, Spock!  I know you know 
what that means!"
  A light went on in Spock's eyes.
  "Ah!  I see the source of the confusion, Captain.  It is the use of the 
term 'intimate'.  While the word itself is sexually neutral, I believe 
human males tend to place sexual connotations on that word, often 
unjustifiably, do they not, doctor?"
  "They do indeed, Spock," McCoy agreed, shaking his head in mock 
sorrow and disapproval.
  "Knock it off, you two!"  Kirk clearly felt annoyed and aggrieved.  
"Dammit, Spock!  If you knew this wasn't a sexual relationship, why 
the hell didn't you stop everyone from talking about it like it was?," 
Kirk demanded.
  "I was not aware that everyone was talking about this as if it was a 
sexual relationship, Captain.  While I concede that in retrospect much 
of the language used had sexual connotations, it is my experience and 
observation that if one deleted from oneUs vocabulary all words 
humans associate with sex and sexual innuendos, one would be 
unable to speak to a Terran at all," Spock said somewhat huffily.  "In 
any event, it is never logical to assume that the term 'intimacy' 
necessarily involves sexual intimacy, Captain, nor was it logical to 
believe that our ability to find refuge on this world depended upon 
you establishing such a connection with your bond-partner."
  "Well, that must be a relief,"  McCoy observed dryly, "to know that 
the crew probably won't die if you finally strike out with this lady."
  "Unless you have observed some behavior on her part that appears 
to correlate with that of the three cultures we have discussed, 
Captain," Spock offered quickly, before Kirk could do more than 
glower at McCoy.  "You appear to be familiar with the behaviors of 
those cultures.  Is there an apparent correlation based upon your 
recent observations?"
  "I think I can safely conclude that I am not bond-partnered to 
someone representing that less-than-one percent, Spock."  Kirk  went 
straight to the point.  "So what are the rest of them like?  These 
people certainly act highly...well, sensual is how I'd describe it.  
Surely that factors into their expectations for their kamacara, doesn't 
it, Spock?"  
  Kirk's question was part challenge and part plea, McCoy noticed.
  "I believe it is important that I clarify the sexual aspect of kamacara 
relationships among the Sa'o,"  Spock said with some concern.  Kirk 
nodded in resignation and listened carefully, but warily, as Spock 
went on.  
  "Sa'o peoples are typically very affectionate and physically 
demonstrative," Spock explained.  "If you experience them as 
sensual, it is important to remember that they are acting without the 
sexual associations we have for such behavior. In the vast majority 
of cases there is no sex  between the kamacara-partners, Captain..." 
  Kirk was surprised to find himself disappointed:  he was going to be 
spending a lot of time with that young lady.
  "...In some Sa'o cultures," Spock continued, "it is expressly prohibited, 
lest it distract the partners from their essentially ambassadorial 
function of creating meaningful understanding between their two 
peoples, the vast majority of whom will not be sexual partners...
  "_Okay_," Kirk decided.  He purposely ignored McCoy's reaction. "_I can
live with that_."
  "...Sometimes," Spock went on, "the content of the relationship between
the participants is left open, to evolve without preconditions in any
direction they choose..."
  "_That's alright_." Kirk though that possibility actually sounded
promising.  It was not unlike some of the lines he'd used over the years.
  "However, in the overwhelming majority of these relationships, the
kamacara-partners do not become sexually involved, and sex is certainly not
assumed to be part of the kamacara contract, Captain.  In fact," Spock 
continued, "in over ten percent of Sa'o cultures the kamacara relationship 
is understood to include a commitment to lifelong celibacy..."
  "Celibacy!"  Kirk exploded.  "No one said anything about celibacy!," 
Kirk sputtered in horror.
  Spock appeared genuinely perplexed.
  "You did refuse to discuss the implications of the agreement you 
were making before..."
  "I know, I know," Kirk interrupted, indignantly.  "But you should 
have told me, Spock!  Uhura should have told me!"  Anger mingled 
with the shock in Kirk's voice.  "How could you possibly think I 
would agree to a relationship that might contain a condition like 
that?," he demanded.
  "It was clear you intended to save the crew," Spock said simply, "and 
that the kamacara relationship was necessary to achieve that goal.  I 
believed you would accept any conditions that relationship might 
impose, subject only to the constraints of ethics, Captain."
  Kirk cooled off quickly.  He turned away for a moment, then looked 
back at his old friend.
  "You were quite right, Spock."  Kirk turned away again, and was 
silent for a long time.
  Jim looked like he needed to sit down, McCoy noticed--not without 
some sense of satisfaction.  The doctor told himself he should feel 
sorry for his friend, but he couldn't just yet.  It wasn't that he 
wanted Kirk stuck with a commitment to a lifetime of celibacy, Bones 
thought, but he couldn't help feeling it would be nice for Kirk to have 
to worry about the possibility for a while.  Maybe quite a while.   The 
doctor liked that idea a lot.
  McCoy and Spock stood quietly while Kirk absorbed Spock's remarks.
  "So what do I do?," Kirk asked finally, his back still to his friends.  
McCoy looked at Spock uncertainly.
  Kirk turned around and faced them.
  "What do I do?," he repeated.  "I mean it, gentlemen, just what is it 
I'm supposed to do now?"
  "You participate in an intimate relationship, Captain," Spock offered.  
As Kirk stared back at him blankly, Spock attempted to elaborate.  
  "You become intimately acquainted with your partner, and allow her 
to become intimately acquainted with you, with the intention that 
through that exchange, our two peoples will achieve greater 
awareness and understanding."
  Kirk considered Spock's suggestions, then blinked in confusion.
  "This is crazy!," Kirk finally blurted.  "It's impossible!  We're talking 
about a woman whose thinking is completely unfathomable to me, 
whose reality has no relationship to mine whatsoever, who probably 
doesn't want me to get sexual with her--and she expects me to create 
an intimate, whatever-the-hell-that-is, relationship with her?  Under 
those conditions?"  Kirk glared at his friends.  "You tell me how that's 
possible."
  "Sounds like every relationship I've ever had with a woman," McCoy 
shrugged, unsympathetically.  
  "You've proved my point," Kirk countered.  "I don't see how I can 
make this work," he moaned in resignation.
  Spock knitted his brow, then spoke calmly and clearly.  
  "I can assure you both that it has been reliably determined that it is 
possible to have an 'intimate' relationship with a person of another 
species, whose outlook is radically different from one's own."  
  The two humans quickly settled down.  The Vulcan continued.  
  "I can also assure you that the kamacara system of the Sa'o has 
created one of the most peaceful, harmonious, compassionate, and 
intimate cultures in the galaxy.  The Sa'o are a remarkable people, 
and I am personally persuaded that any peoples using a similar 
system would share the best of the Sa'o characteristics, and would be 
worthy of our attention and study even in the absence of a life-
threatening emergency."
  Spock had their full attention.  The Vulcan noted that Kirk, while still 
plainly nervous about his role, was  listening with new interest and--
for the first time since Spock joined him in the reception area--some 
degree of respect for the beings they hoped to join.  
  Spock observed the development with satisfaction.  Kirk was, after 
all, first and foremost, an explorer, a seeker of new things.  And yet, 
Spock knew, Kirk had carried a deep loneliness with him throughout 
his journeys.  If, as they believed, these beings shared attributes 
with the Sa'o, Spock suspected Kirk would ultimately find something 
far more valuable in kamacara than the diversion he'd expected at 
the outset of the relationship.
  "Okay, Spock," Kirk conceded.  "You've convinced me.  Of course it's
not like we have any real alternatives I could consider," Kirk 
muttered.  "But I want you two to come back in there with me--for 
help, Bones, not harassment."
  The three men started back to the receiving area.  Kirk had resolved 
himself.  He was prepared to do his duty, and his best--but just 
outside the entry, a wave of panic swept over the Starfleet veteran.  
Kirk couldn't believe it.  The way he felt, it was like he was a cadet 
all over again!  
  What had he gotten himself into?
  "I can't do it, Bones," Kirk whispered in desperation.  "I won't be able 
to handle it!  It's impossible."
  McCoy took Kirk's arm and steadied him.  "Yes, you can and you will," 
the doctor whispered back.  "It's also been reliably determined that 
it is possible to have an intimate relationship with a person of the 
opposite sex, without being sexually involved...even when the male is 
a human."
  "I knew that!," Kirk insisted defensively.
  The three friends stepped back into the reception area, together.

  The aliens were still entertaining themselves in some unfathomable 
amusement, romping and tumbling about the deck.  It was a relief to 
see that their merrymaking continued, despite whatever had 
transpired between Kirk and the girl.  From the buffoonery of the 
little group, it appeared they still regarded their Enterprise 
adventure as some sort of bizarre picnic.
  "_I always wondered what they meant by the phrase, 'More fun than 
a barrel of monkeys'_,"  McCoy thought.  "_Now I know_."
  As the officers moved toward them, McCoy noticed that Kirk's 
kamacara was slightly to the side of the others and relatively quiet.  
  McCoy smirked.  He'd give anything to know what had happened 
between the girl and Kirk, and what she thought about it, he decided.
The girl turned in their direction as they approached.  The doctor 
studied her demeanor intently.  Was it just his imagination, or was 
she 'eyeing' Jim differently than before?  Maybe with some caution 
and some confusion of her own?
  McCoy snickered.  As long as it didn't kill them, he was going to enjoy 
watching Kirk suffer a few indignities while he figured this woman 
out.
  "_Yes_,"  McCoy thought, as they strode toward the girl, "_a little 
embarrassment would definitely be good for Jim's soul..."
  McCoy halted abruptly, and blinked in astonishment.  Kirk and Spock 
sensed his sudden action, and quickly turned toward their friend.
The doctor stood as if he had taken root, gaping openly at the alien 
girl.  Kirk wheeled about and followed the doctor's gaze back to its 
object.  Kirk was momentarily startled, then guffawed in spite of 
himself and quickly averted his eyes.  He shot a look at Spock and 
shook his head while he chuckled quietly in disbelief.  After a 
moment, Kirk turned back to his kamacara...and smiled.
  The little female had incorporated McCoy's medical scanner into the 
bejeweled net she wore.  There was nothing so awful about that, but 
what McCoy was reacting to--and unable to take his eyes off of--was 
where she'd put it.
  Kirk saw his chance to get even, and seized it.
  "Do you always stare at young women that frankly, doctor?," Kirk 
demanded roughly.
  McCoy snapped out of his reverie and blushed deeply, suddenly 
aware that he had been completely transfixed by the scanner in the 
shapely little alien's gown.
  "I...I...," McCoy began to sputter.  "My scanner..."  His voice trailed off 
in embarrassment.
  Kirk relished the doctor's discomfort.  He was also enormously 
relieved.  It appeared there would be ample embarrassment to go 
around.  The Captain felt better already.
  "If you're concerned about your scanner, doctor, perhaps you'd like 
to retrieve it from the lady?," Kirk challenged him.
  McCoy blushed even more deeply.  Kirk's satisfaction grew, 
particularly when the doctor started to look back towards the girl as 
he began to answer, then rapidly lost his nerve and turned away in 
mortification.
  "Go ahead, doctor," Kirk heckled him again.  He turned toward his 
kamacara, grateful that she had innocently turned the tables on 
McCoy.  He chuckled at her warmly, and directed a final taunt at 
McCoy.
  "I dare ya," Kirk teased.
  Kirk twisted his head toward McCoy to enjoy his reaction more fully.  
As he did, a sound came from the young woman near him.
  "Ahhhh....darrrrr...ahhhh," she said clearly, without the help of the 
translator.
  The Starfleet officers were stunned.
  "Fascinating!," Spock observed in awed tones.  The humans looked at 
the girl and each other in complete amazement.
  "I thought they were non-verbal, Spock," Kirk asked incredulously.
  "Quite so, Captain.  The data was clear on that point."
  "Well, is it reasonable that they would develop this ability so 
quickly?," Kirk inquired.
  Spock shook his head.  
  "These beings are a complete unknown, Captain.  I do not believe 
anyone can accurately estimate what they are and are not capable of, sir.  
However, the translator is a two-way process.  It is possible that its activity 
is stimulating this being's perceptions and creating an awareness or 
interest in linguistic systems. However that is sheer speculation at this 
point, Captain."  
  The young girl smiled vacantly at Kirk.
  "Are you certain it's that significant, Spock," McCoy queried.  "I mean, 
they all make noise all the time.  Their vocal cords are operational.  
Maybe this isn't really anything new."
  Spock rejected the suggestion.
  "These are not random sounds, doctor.  They are an attempt to mimic 
the Captain's last comment to you.  While it is unlikely that she 
associates the sounds with the Captain's meaning, at the time of the birth
of language, each word was the sound-equivalent of an experience, which, in
turn, was consciously connected to an internal or external stimulus. Whether 
she understood his meaning or not, the fact remains that mimicry and the 
repetition of specific sounds is an important step in language development,
furthermore, _she_ probably has a specific association with this sound. The
creative energy required for such a development is enormous." 
  Spock regarded the young woman with great respect.  "This is an 
astonishing being you have encountered, Captain," he said warmly.
  "Ahhhh...darrr...ahhh," the girl said again, this time to Spock.  She
extended her arm and opened her hand to show a small stone resting in her
palm.  She waited while Spock removed the pebble and examined it.
  "Fascinating," Spock repeated as he examined the crystal.  "It appears we
are being offered an exchange for your scanner, Dr. McCoy.  Most likely,
this object was replaced when she placed that item in her gown."
  "Well, at least she's fair..." said McCoy.
  Kirk was impressed--and relieved.  Maybe their conversation was 
going to pick up quickly, he thought, and he'd at least be able to talk 
to her clearly and efficiently.  They still needed to get down to the 
surface, he reminded himself.
  It was time to approach her again on that subject. He decided to 
see how far her linguistic development has progressed.  Kirk remained
friendly but shifted into analytical mode.  
  "I'm sorry about the...confusion in our earlier conversation," he 
offered.  "I didn't understand your customs and...expectations.  I do 
now, and I apologize for my earlier actions," Kirk declared sincerely 
and efficiently.
  The girl stared back at him vacantly.  No sound came from her or the 
translator device.
  Kirk looked at Spock in frustration.
  "What am I doing, Spock?  Why won't she respond?"
  "I have only conjecture at this point, Captain," Spock offered 
hesitantly, "and I would prefer to withhold comment until I have had 
the opportunity to review the log tapes of her earlier exchange with 
us and discuss them with Cmdr. Uhura."
  Kirk spread his hands in frustration.
  "Great!," he sighed.  "What do I do in the meantime to get us down on 
the surface?"  He was suddenly very tired.  The strain of their ordeal 
already weighed on him heavily.  The additional demands of 
completely unfamiliar communication and relationship systems were 
taxing Kirk enormously.  He ran his hand over his face, and looked up 
wearily at his kamacara, as he ordered himself to try to come up 
with some tack that might convey their needs to her.
  Kirk exhaled deeply in exhaustion.
  "**Kamacara.  Us...**"  There was a long pause.  "**_Home_...Us...Now.**"
  "Oh,"  Kirk thought, relieved by this solution of his evacuation 
problem, "_that_ was what she meant before."
  He began preparations to move to the surface.

                   (To be continued....)

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From: eisimps@cie.uoregon.edu (Eileen Simpson)
Subject: The Great American Star Trek Novel, Ch. 7
Message-ID: <1992Sep2.060525.2543@nntp.uoregon.edu>
Summary: On the Planet of Committed Intimate RRelating...
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Organization: University of Oregon Campus Information Exchange
Date: Wed, 2 Sep 92 06:05:25 GMT
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                       THE GREAT AMERICAN STAR TREK NOVEL 
                        "Where No *Man* Has Gone Before" 
                     Copyright E.G. WEBER (SIMPSON) 1989



                                CHAPTER SEVEN

  The jagged, snow-covered mountains spanned the horizon to the 
north.  Although over 500 kilometers from the shuttle's location, the 
enormous height of the range, and the purity of the air, yielded a 
dramatic silhouette which greeted every officer as he or she exited 
the shuttle's starboard hatch. Each disembarking human was 
momentarily halted by the sight, then stepped aside to make room 
for those behind. 
  The survey party stood together silently on the grasses outside the 
open shuttle hatch, absorbed in their first experience of the world 
that stretched before them.  They had done their preliminary scans 
of the area as they'd followed the spherical alien vessel to this 
location.  They knew they faced no immediate hazards or threats, 
and no pressing concerns or tasks intruded on the moment.
  The peaks were a clear, stark symbol of how much things had 
changed for the Enterprise personnel who had arrived on the surface 
of this nameless planet. It had been apparent to all of them since 
they emerged from The Effect that, if they survived, their lives and 
routines were going to undergo complete, perhaps permanent, 
transformation.  
  But the impending loss of their shipboard existence was not the only 
shift now taking place. This was a world that, unlike other worlds they 
had visited, or even grown up on, appeared destined to be their home.  
That unspoken reality changed things.  It altered their usual, efficient, 
routine of planetary exploration.  It altered the feelings they brought to 
their tasks.  
  In those first moments after exiting the shuttle, everyone 
appeared transfixed by the grandeur of the panorama to the north.  
Internally, and largely outside of their awareness, they had begun to 
confront their personal experiences of this new reality.
  Kirk was the first to move away from the shuttle's hatch, seeking a 
spot where he could get a more complete view of his surroundings.  
  They had landed near the western edge of a broad, grassy plain.  
Kirk headed northeast, thinking he would make for a low rise a few 
dozen meters away.  As he walked, Kirk glanced quickly to the west, 
and then east.  He halted, and turned.  He found himself drawn 
towards the scene to the east.  He stepped away from the others, and 
moved to the front of the shuttle.  
  Kirk's movement away from the hatch seemed to break a spell.  The 
others stepped forward, slowly at first, silently evaluating their 
surroundings.  Spock's attention was immediately absorbed in 
analyzing the readings from his tricorder.  McCoy wandered off a few 
feet, visually surveying the area, caught up in thoughts of his own. 
  Karl Murphy snapped himself out of "tourist mode".  He glanced about 
quickly, pulled out his tricorder, and began running his scans. Pavarti 
remained just outside the shuttle door, awkwardly juggling the 
heavy apparatus Uhura had brought along to remain in contact with 
the translation network she'd created aboard ship.  He self-
consciously observed the actions of the others, and inspected his 
surroundings from the security of the immediate area around the 
hatchway.  A breeze ruffled his hair.  
  Then something else swept over Pavarti, and he felt his face flush.  
He was drawn forward, looking for something he couldn't name.
  Uhura and Chekov walked the several yards to the small rise to the 
northeast, stepping through the knee-high grasses as if wading 
through a stream. Their eyes were fixed on the lofty peaks of the 
immense range that filled the distant horizon.  The inevitable, but 
minimal, interference from the planetary atmosphere, produced 
wavy lines across the base of the mountains.  It gave the impression 
that the summits floated, suspended above the vast expanse of 
grassy plain.  The spectacle stretched across the northern skyline in a 
scene of breathtaking drama and beauty.
  When they arrived on the hillock, the two friends made a slow, 
turning circle to their left, silently taking in the scenes around them.  
  The vertical sides and flat tops of plateaus appeared in the distance, 
between the grassy plain and the mountains that lay due north.  To 
the left of the plateaus, between intermittent rises of high ground, 
they caught occasional glimpses of the bright blue waters of the 
immense lake that ran down the center of the continent.
  They continued turning to the west.   The low grasses waved in the 
light breeze like a living carpet. They continued for a relatively short 
distance due west from where the humans stood, but were soon 
mixed with ferns, shrubs, and other low vegetation, until finally 
giving way to a temperate-zone forest.
  Behind the forest, in the distance to the southwest, rose sheer cliffs 
of bare rock, topped with dense, verdant, foliage.  It was another 
plateau, this one large, and triangularly shaped.  They had noticed 
the formation on the way in, and knew it stood between them and 
the southern end of the blue lake, or inland sea.  The flight in had 
also revealed a lush green valley, that now lay between the shuttle 
and the plateau.  The forests were largely confined to the floors and 
sides of the river valleys, and they deduced that the valley they had 
seen probably began within a few hundred yards of the trees in 
front of them.  
  Their view to the south was much the same: grasslands, that segued 
to shrubs, that segued to trees.  Again, their flight path had 
established that a deep gorge lay some hundred kilometers to the 
south of their position, cut through the rock by the force of the river 
that ran from the southern end of the lake after dropping over an 
enormous falls.  
  They turned east.  Their gazes fell on a seemingly endless grassy 
plain.  Waves of greens, browns, and yellows stretched before them, 
rising and falling in a cool afternoon breeze.  Here and there small 
patches of primary colors, flowers perhaps, brightened the otherwise 
simple beauty of the landscape.  They couldn't be certain that it 
wasn't a trick of the wind, but the late afternoon sun cast slight 
shadows that suggested the terrain was not perfectly flat, and that 
the grasses swept over low hills that reached long, irregular fingers 
to the eastern horizon.
  No birds called.  No insects hummed.  There was only the sound of 
the breeze moving through the grasses, in a soothing, almost 
hypnotic sigh.
  "It's like the savannah back home," Uhura whispered quietly to 
Pavel.
  The Russian shook his head.
  "More like the stepps," he quietly replied.  "It's just like this on a late 
summer afternoon."
  They turned their heads to discuss it further, then paused in sudden 
embarrassment.  Each gave a small, quiet laugh at their absurdity in 
engaging in even minor debate about who had the better claim of 
familiarity to this planet on the other side of the galaxy from the one 
they called home.  They turned their gazes back to the new world 
that stretched before them, and silently agreed to spend a few more 
moments just getting the feel of the place before turning to their 
tasks.
  Leonard McCoy noticed Jim off by himself, towards the front of the 
shuttle.  As he considered his friend's intent but inscrutable 
expression, McCoy's brow raised in a wordless question.  
  _What could absorb Kirk's attention so completely?_ 
  McCoy moved towards Jim, making his way through the grasses.  
  Kirk seemed oblivious to his approach.  The doctor came up beside 
his friend, and made his own visual inspection of the endless vista to 
the east. 
  "You know," McCoy began, gazing at the vast sea of grass that 
extended to the eastern horizon, "it's a shame to admit it, Jim, but I 
can never  keep geological or geographic terms in my head.  What do 
you call that kind of grassy plain?" 
  Kirk's focus on the expanse never wavered.
  "Iowa," he replied.

  Kirk and McCoy returned to the group around the shuttle's hatch.  At 
Kirk's direction, the various survey parties prepared to move out on 
their assignments.
  "Commander," Kirk said pointedly to Uhura, "you remain here with 
me."
  Uhura assented and stepped aside as the others began to disperse.
Kirk noticed Pavarti gazing off to the south, an odd expression on the 
young man's face.
  "Mr. Pavarti," Kirk called sharply.  The Ensign turned immediately.
"Leave Cmdr. Uhura's equipment here with us," Kirk directed, "and 
join Mr. Murphy's survey party."
  Pavarti glanced at the Lieutenant as the slightest flicker of 
annoyance crossed Murphy's face.  The latter acknowledged the 
order.  Pavarti hesitated just an instant, then moved out with the 
others in silence.
  "Bones," Kirk turned to the doctor, "I want you and Spock to make 
the widest possible scans of this area."  Kirk's expression was intense 
as he spoke to his two most senior officers.  "I want to know about 
anything and everything that's the least bit unusual or suspicious."
  McCoy nodded that he understood, and pulled out his tricorder.
  "Acknowledged, Captain," Spock responded.
  The two veterans left briskly for their assigned tasks.  Kirk and 
Uhura watched them go.  
  As the others moved farther and farther into the distance, Kirk's 
expression and stance towards his communications officer subtly 
changed.  
  Had she set him up for that embarrassing episode with his 
kamacara?, Kirk wondered.  The Captain wasn't certain.
  But he didn't intend to ignore the possibility, either.  
  Uhura turned and faced the Captain.  Kirk was evaluating her 
thoughtfully.  Not angrily, she noticed.  But not warmly, either.  She 
shifted into standard, Starfleet subordinate, defensive mode.  Her 
facial features became a neutral mask of complete propriety.
  Kirk regarded her from under lowered brows.  Uhura stood silently 
at attention.  The Captain began circling her slowly.
  Finally, Kirk spoke.
  "I understand you're an expert in kamacara relationships, 
Commander," Kirk said, watching her reaction carefully.
  "Yes, sir," Uhura agreed, in her professional manner.
  "I think we need to go over some information on those relationships 
before the next time I encounter my bond-partner, Commander," 
Kirk said levelly.
  "Yes, sir," Uhura acknowledged.
  Kirk observed her intently as he considered his next words.
  "I want complete information, Commander," he said finally.  "I don't 
want any surprises," he told her significantly.  His eyes never left her 
face.
  "Understood, sir."
  "I hope that's clear, Commander.  My sense of humor does not extend 
to jokes at my expense, Commander."
  "I don't know what you mean, sir."
  Kirk's brow knitted and his eyes seemed to narrow.  He scrutinized 
Uhura's face.  Her demeanor conveyed respect and revealed nothing.  
  Kirk remained suspicious that she had led him into a trap with the 
alien girl, but he could not deny the role of his own ego in the 
episode, and would not lash out at Uhura just to salve his wounded 
pride.  
  "That may be, Commander," he finally responded, "but if I ever 
decide that you do know what I mean, you will find that as Captain 
of this sh--crew, I laugh last.  Do you read me?"
  "Loud and clear, sir."
  Kirk nodded pointedly at her response.
  "Very good, Commander.  Now, tell me about kamacara and the Sa'o."
  Kirk opened a camp chair and made himself comfortable.   In the 
interval since they'd left the ship, Kirk had resigned himself to his 
new role--whatever it turned out to be.  His mind had refocused on 
the need to master whatever skills he needed to save his crew, and 
he awaited Uhura's report from that perspective. 
  Uhura watched him get settled, and considered where to begin.  She 
didn't like the hand she'd just been dealt, and decided to risk doing 
something about it.
  "I'll do my best to provide the information you need, Captain," she 
began, "but it does need to be clear that I cannot pretend to predict 
the reactions and expectations of these people to the degree that I 
can assure that any of us can avoid surprises, sir."  
  Kirk made a face, but said nothing.  Uhura pressed her point.  
  "These people are not Sa'o, Captain.  The translator has selected the 
Sa'o kamacara culture as the most recognizable thing in our memory 
banks based on whatever it's picking up, but these people still don't 
appear to be verbal, or linguistic, or experiencing a world based on 
perceived differences.  I can't tell you for certain that they will react 
like Sa'o, or that their form of kamacara is like some particular 
culture of the Sa'o.  We just don't know how far the analogy will hold 
up, sir."  
  Uhura sighed.   
  "Even if they are actually identical to one of the Sa'o cultures, 
Captain, there is no way, at present, to identify which subculture 
they match, and Captain, there is a lot of variation among the Sa'o.  
Those two sources of possible...misunderstandings, or as you might 
say, surprises, sir, are not surmountable at present.  I just cannot 
promise you that you won't be surprised, despite my best efforts, 
Captain.  In fact, I'd bet on just the opposite."
  Kirk inhaled deeply, and frowned.
  "I'm willing to concede the validity of your concerns, Commander.  
What I want you to understand is that I will show no tolerance 
whatsoever for being set up.  Do you understand the difference, 
Commander?"
  "Yes, sir."
  "Good," Kirk nodded.  "Then we can proceed with that 
understanding."   
  Uhura internally breathed a sigh of relief.  She might get out of this 
alive, yet.  She collected her thoughts and began the education of 
Kamacara James T. Kirk.
  "Sa'o cultures fascinate me, Captain, and they've been kind of a 
hobby of mine.  I think that once you become familiar with them 
you'll be intrigued, too."  
  Kirk sat in unenthusiastic silence as Uhura warmed to her topic.
  "I'd say we should start with a basic overview of the main cultural 
features of Sa'o peoples, sir, until I can produce a more 
comprehensive study for you to formally review.  You're going to 
need it, sir.   I can't possibly brief you on, nor could you presently 
retain, information on all the kamacara systems, Captain, but I can 
make that available later by report."
  Kirk nodded in agreement.
  "I'd appreciate a report I can use as a reference, Commander, and 
we'll need information we can distribute to the crew, as well.  But I 
need to get some idea of the basics right now, before those people 
show up and expect me to do something with them again."
  Kirk relented somewhat in his suspicious mood, and indicated Uhura 
should get settled more comfortably.  A few moments later she was 
eagerly continuing her report.
  "The essential thing you need to know, Captain, is that the two pillars 
of any kamacara culture or partnership," Uhura said, "are 
relationship and commitment."
  Kirk's features remained impassive.  A slight change in his body 
tension and respiration rate were the only manifestations of any 
impact from Uhura's words.
  The communications officer was in her element.
  "As a people, the Sa'o are as relationship-oriented as the Vulcans are 
logical," Uhura explained.  "It is absolutely central to their way of 
living and being.  Socially, they tend to be organized in loose, 
cooperative groups.   There may be some simple, basic 
administrative apparatus, but that's rare..."
  "How do they get anything done?," Kirk interrupted.
  "They cooperate...in volunteer groups...on whatever tasks need to be 
done," Uhura explained.
  "Does that work?," Kirk queried.
  Uhura shrugged.
  "Depends on what you mean.  These are not highly technological 
cultures, sir.  What they have is a way of life that substitutes 
responsiveness and concern for others for aggressiveness, initiative, 
and competitiveness.  They're very peaceful, very happy, and very 
loving.  Warfare is virtually unknown, sir.  But they are very simple 
people, and I think that's why they aren't widely studied."
  Kirk signalled that she should continue.  He felt uneasy.  Being 
marooned was inherently boring.  Being marooned with these people 
could be mammothly boring.
  _Then why do you feel so anxious?_, a voice asked him.
  "The thing to remember, sir, is that everything about a Sa'o culture 
makes perfect sense once you understand that their core value is 
relationship:  All life activity is defined by, and processed through, 
relationship," Uhura emphasized.  
  Kirk's head was starting to ache.
  "The place where humans get into trouble as kamacara, is by seeing 
that relationship as the means to an end.  The Sa'o experience this as 
a violation of their basic values, Captain," Uhura said seriously, "and 
they'll terminate kamacara if they come to believe that something 
other than the desire to know and be known is behind a cultural 
contact.  That's why Vulcans established the first successful 
kamacara partnership with the Sa'o, sir.  The humans had too many 
hidden agendas.  Vulcans came with a straight-forward interest in 
learning about the Sa'o culture."
  "Then why didn't...," Kirk struggled with the lack of a name for his 
partner, "...'she' choose Spock?"
  Uhura shook her head.  "It's impossible to say, sir.  But I should tell 
you that Vulcans were not successful with all Sa'o cultures, Captain.  
Their strong intellectual discipline isn't always attractive to the Sa'o.  
The Sa'o are a feeling people, sir," Uhura explained, "with a feminine 
psychology.  They have a diffuse, non-linear thought process which 
the Vulcans experience as illogical.  Sa'o can find Vulcans cold, 
detached, and unimaginative--even judgmental.  Perhaps that's why 
the young lady chose you, sir.  I really don't think anyone can say.
  "Just remember," Uhura emphasized, "that a relationship is never the 
means to an end.  With Sa'o peoples, it is the end.  It is pursued as 
valuable in its own right."
  Kirk was thoughtful and worried.  He stood up and began to pace.
  "Uhura...look, let's be honest, here," he began.  "The only reason I 
agreed to be in a relationship with any of these people is because it 
appeared that we were all going to die if I didn't.  I would have to 
say," he confessed, "that if ever a relationship was a means to an end 
for me, this one is it."  He shook his head, and spread his hands 
helplessly.  "I just can't pretend it's any different."
  Uhura considered his remarks seriously.
  "Then don't," she advised finally.  "Whatever you do, be honest.  But 
for all of our sakes, Captain, please try to develop a curiosity about 
who your partner is, and how her people live.  I know you can do 
that, sir.  It's part of what you like about this work."
  Kirk smiled in wry resignation.
  "Well, so far, this is great, Cmdr.  I can't wait to hear about 
'commitment'."
  "Oh you really will like that, sir," Uhura said reassuringly.  "If they 
are like Sa'o, it will be very different from our experience.   We 
usually see a commitment as involving at least some degree of a loss 
of freedom.  Sa'o kamacara societies understand commitment as a 
covenant between two people who retain their selfhoods in the 
context of a relationship.  They don't assume that a loss of freedom, 
or some sense of incarceration goes along with commitment, and 
their relationships are just plain remarkable for the way they 
achieve closeness and independence.  One theory says that the 
reason they have so much independence is because they're so clear 
and complete in their commitments, sir."
  Uhura continued, blissfully ignorant of the Captain's complete 
inability to share her enthusiasm for the culture she was describing.
  "Uhura," Kirk interrupted.  "Just what the heck do these people do?  
What should I expect...or avoid?"
  "That's hard to say, sir.  The good news, Captain, is that these cultures 
tend to be very playful, and are not particularly ritualistic.  It is very 
rare for a kamacara partnership to blow up over a single event, and 
if it does, it doesn't have anything to do with failing to follow some 
outwardly imposed, cultural formality."
  "What sorts of things break these agreements up?," Kirk asked 
nervously.
  "Kamacara bonds between committed partners usually work, but they're 
broken in three situations:  the bond-partner decides to withdraw from the 
relationship, which is rare, and very serious; or, there can be a 
profound violation of the kamacara relationship and the trust, 
integrity, and values that support it; or, the bond-partnering works, 
and the participants discover their groups are not compatible."
  "What do you mean, the bond-partnering 'works,' but the groups 
aren't compatible?"
  "The kamacara's bond to his or her partner is to become known," 
Uhura clarified.  "It is entirely possible that this knowing can reveal 
insurmountable incompatibilities.  The Sa'o do not see this as a 
failure of the relationship.  The two groups simply part in peace, 
often with an exchange of food and gifts, and go their separate ways."
  Kirk tensed.
  "I don't think I could share that perspective, Commander.  At least 
not in these circumstances."
  Uhura could sense Kirk's concern.  She found herself sympathizing 
with the Captain's situation.
  "Sa'o peoples are usually quite generous, affectionate, and sharing, 
Captain,S she offered quietly.  "They have a sense of...inner trust that 
they can count on the people around them, which is, well, different 
from what we usually experience in Starfleet.  Here, we know we can 
rely on the competence and sense of duty of our comrades.  The Sa'o 
bond is different.  It's a personal, emotional trust that people take 
care of each other out of love."
  Kirk looked at Uhura with an expression that was almost willing to 
hope.
  "It's possible," Uhura continued, "that if these people are similar to 
the Sa'o, and, if they come to understand our situation, that they 
would not abandon us, Captain.  Even if we weren't compatible."
  "That's a lot of 'ifs', Commander."
  "True, sir.  But it's a legitimate possibility."
  Uhura noticed that Kirk looked tired.  She sat quietly while Kirk 
stared off into the distance, absorbing what he'd been told.
  "Do you have any other tips on how to relate to...our hosts?," the 
Captain asked finally.
  Uhura pondered the question for a few moments.
  "I'd say you should assume that relationships here are peer until 
proven otherwise.  They probably are, but if they aren't, you're a lot 
less likely to cause offense by treating a superior as your equal, than 
you are by treating a subordinate or a peer as your superior."
  "Huh?  Why's that?"
  "Because by treating everyone as a peer, you acknowledge and honor 
the possibility of a genuine, intimate relationship with them.  When 
you elevate someone above you, you separate that person from you.  
In Sa'o cultures that can be interpreted as a suggestion that you 
dislike the person.  Treating someone as if they were above you is 
the most common form of insult among the Sa'o, Captain."
  The two officers continued their discussions, Kirk asking questions, 
Uhura clarifying what she could, offering her ideas and suggestions.
  Finally, Kirk felt he had absorbed all the information he could handle 
in one session.  He brought things to a close, stood up, and stretched.
  He needed a break.  Some change of scenery.
  He walked slowly to the hill he had been heading for when they first 
arrived.
  At the top of the small rise, he stood, and slowly looked about, taking 
in the lay of the land, seeking some sense of the place.
  His jaw set as he turned.
  It was not Enterprise, he noted.  It never would be.
  And yet, they needed this place right now, he reminded himself.  It 
was unfair and unreasonable of him to resent this land, or its people.
  But he did.
  It wasn't what he wanted.  It wasn't where he wanted to be, or what 
he wanted to be doing, or who he wanted to be doing it with.
  Kirk stood on the hill and struggled with himself, using all the 
techniques he had been taught over the years to stay in control, and 
stay on top of the depression that lurked beside him.  He 
continuously reminded himself that he was taking action, moving 
forward to resolve the crisis they had faced since the moment of the 
aborted effort to contact the Menata.  He was acting to protect the 
crew.  Doing his duty.  Being the Captain.
  He was facing east, toward the plain.
  "_Who are you kidding?_," the voice asked him. "_You're marooned.  Your 
ship is screwed to hell, and you're trapped with a bunch of 
completely incomprehensible gargling ding-a-lings, in a society  
organized around committed, intimate, nonsexual relating--which is 
okay, because you've probably agreed to be celibate for the rest of 
your life!_"
  Kirk stood staring angrily to the east, silently giving vent to his pent-
up frustration.
  His face set grimly as he considered the landscape before him.  It 
was the perfect final touch on the whole situation, he thought 
sarcastically:  after spending his adult life doing his best to get as far 
from Iowa as he possibly could, he now found himself facing the 
probability that he would spend the rest of his life marooned in it's 
functional equivalent.
  "_It's not bad enough that I'm marooned_," he fumed.  "_I'm marooned 
in Iowa, dammit!_" 
  Kirk was developing a suspicion.  Perhaps Spock was right.  Perhaps 
they were dead.  
  _This_  was hell.
  Uhura stayed down at the shuttle, working with her equipment, 
making notes to herself on things to include in her report to the 
Captain on kamacara.  She left Jim Kirk to himself.
  The Captain had a lot going on right now, she thought.  He needed 
some time to be with his feelings about the wave of events that had 
overwhelmed them.  The African felt strong compassion for her 
Captain, standing alone on the hill.  He was facing an immense 
challenge as the evacuation of his ship approached, and his personal 
challenges werenUt going to ease once that step was completed.  If 
anything, they would intensify.
  It made her feel guilty about the way she'd set him up.
  Of course, it wasn't entirely true that she'd led him into a trap with 
the alien girl.  His own assumptions had put him there.  She'd given 
him accurate information.
  But it was also true that she'd seen where he was going, and she 
didn't warn him about it.
  Oh, it could be professionally rationalized, she knew.  It would help 
him in the long run.  It was best to keep kamacara contacts honest--
and Kirk's honest attraction to his partner in the early moments of 
their relationship was entirely sexual.  Uhura had known he wouldn't 
push things with the girl to the point the girl or the crew's safety was 
jeopardized, but still, she had let him walk right into a very 
embarrassing situation.  And now, watching him struggle with his 
feelings out on the little hill to the north, she felt bad about it.
  Well, she'd make it up to him somehow, she thought.
  One thing she would not do, however, was confess.  Kirk's reaction 
this afternoon had made it clear that, how ever good confession 
might be for the soul, it would be ultra-hazardous to her short-term 
enjoyment of life.  She resolved that under no circumstances would 
she reveal to anyone that the 'very intimate' incident with the girl 
was anything more than an unfortunate misunderstanding.  Could 
have happened to anyone.
  Kirk finally came down off the hill.
  "So where the heck are these people, Uhura?  Do you have any idea 
where my kamacara might be, or what she's up to?  Where the hell is 
she?"
  Uhura smiled.  "If she's like the Sa'o, she's 'doing life,' Captain, and 
she'll be here when it's time.  Time is not an absolute value in Sa'o 
cultures," Uhura explained.  "It's a process.  A cycle, or a series of 
cycles which seldom, if ever, have anything to do with externally 
imposed deadlines or constraints.  'Early,' 'late,' and so on, have no 
meaning in kamacara partnerships," Uhura went on, to Kirk's obvious 
disbelief.  "Someone or something is 'on time' when it is completed in 
the natural flow of life."
  "Terrific," Kirk thought.  "I'm just gonna love these people."

  The teams rendezvoused back at the shuttle two hours later, as per 
the plan.  Their alien hosts had yet to put in an appearance.  Kirk 
reminded himself of Uhura's assessment of the situation, and told 
himself not to worry.  It didn't work.  He felt entirely out of his 
element, and no longer trusted his instincts where these people were 
concerned.  
  Kirk didn't want to make plans without his hosts, but further delay 
could jeopardize the evacuation. It was clear the sun would go down 
soon, and he had to use every moment.  Finally, he felt he could wait 
no longer.
  "All right, let's get started.  Mr. Murphy, let's have your team's report."
  The young officer responded immediately and efficiently.
  "There is no question that this planet can sustain us quite 
comfortably, Captain.  Food, water, and shelter are readily available, 
although it's going to be primarily a vegetarian diet.  Weather in this 
location appears to be mild, by earth standards, although Vulcans 
will find it cool.  Temperatures range from 8 to 14 degrees 
centigrade, with the lower readings occurring almost entirely at 
night.  Precipitation appears to be primarily in the form of morning 
fogs and 'marine air', although there are signs of occasional light 
rains."
  "In short," Chekov interrupted, "if ve die of anything in this climate, 
it's likely to be boredom."
  Murphy gave a short, harsh laugh of agreement.
  "That's how it looks to me, too, sir."
  "Anything else on the local geography, Mister?," Kirk asked.
  "We have a full report ready to download, sir," Murphy nodded.  
"Essentially, our scans show no hazardous lifeforms or natural 
conditions in this area, sir.  The planet is geologically stable, and 
what changes have occurred on the local terrain recently, have been 
by slow, natural erosion.  Weather patterns read as moderate, and 
there are some micro-climates in the vicinity that actually appear 
subtropical, sir."
  Murphy glanced at his team to see if anyone had any additions.  He 
caught a hopeful look on one face.
  "Oh, there is one more thing, sir.  Readings indicate several lakes in 
the valley off to the west, Captain.  There's some hope that we can 
settle in the vicinity of one of them."
  "I'll keep it in mind when I negotiate with the local Chamber of 
Commerce, gentlemen," Kirk replied coolly.  He turned to Chekov.  
  "What about it, Commander?  Are we safe here?"
  Pavel nodded affirmatively.
  "I vould hev to agree with that report, sair.  There are no signs of 
dangerous animals, veapons or other hostile technology.  Not ewen 
poisonous plants, sair," the Russian responded.  "From everything ve 
hev, this is a werry safe location, Kepten."
  Kirk turned his chair towards his most senior officers.
  "Is that opinion unanimous, gentlemen?," he asked.
  McCoy glanced quickly at Spock.  The latter's head was cocked off 
towards the south.  
  _What the hell is with him?_, McCoy wondered.  He's been doing that 
all afternoon.
  "Well," McCoy began, when Spock did not immediately reply to Kirk's 
inquiry, "I agree that that's what the data says on its face, but there 
are some things that just don't sit right with me, Captain."
  Kirk sat up straighter.
  "Such as, doctor?"
  "I didn't find anything obviously or immediately dangerous, but 
there are some anomalies in this data that suggest this isn't quite the 
paradise it appears to be.  Absent species, for instance.  There are no 
insects in this area.  There are no reptiles in this area.  There are no 
identifiable predators in this area, and when I checked with Sulu it 
seems we've yet to pick up a sign that any of these species exist 
elsewhere on the continent, Captain."
  Kirk listened carefully as McCoy continued.  
  "Ship's scans are incomplete, but there are signs of planet-wide gaps 
among the species of higher mammals, and an overall lack of 
diversity in non-plant species that suggests to me that something 
pretty darned dramatic has happened down here to distort the 
ecosystem of this planet."
  "Couldn't it just be a feature of the natural evolution of life here?  I 
mean, maybe there never were insects or predators on this world," 
Kirk posited.
  "No way," McCoy answered, in response to the first question.  "I don't 
believe this world managed to selectively evolve the species I can 
identify, and yet miss entire classes or kingdoms of living things that 
are a related evolutionary development everyplace else that we've 
been in the galaxy."
  "This place has yet to be like anyplace else we've been in the galaxy, 
doctor," Kirk observed wryly.
  "I hear you.  But I don't buy the idea that this is a natural, normal 
ecology we're seeing here.  Something has distorted it."
  "How about it, Spock?"  Kirk spun his chair towards his Science 
Officer.  "Do you concur with that analysis?"
  The Vulcan turned his head toward the Captain.
  "I agree that the ecology of this world is...skewed, Captain," Spock 
responded, demonstrating that he had been following the 
conversation despite his behavior.  "What I do not concede is that 
this is an unnatural development."
  McCoy was annoyed by the dispute.
  "Now just a minute, you...,"  the doctor glanced towards the junior 
officers in the shuttle, and quickly changed tacks,  "...have to agree 
that it's pretty damned unlikely that this planet evolved the species 
we can identify here, without evolving any of the insects, predators, 
or other groups that usually are found with them," McCoy challenged.
  "It is not only 'pretty darned unlikely,' doctor, I should say the odds 
against such an occurrence are in excess of 137,843,555 to 1."
  "Well, then...," McCoy began.
  "The point, doctor," Spock interrupted, "is what is natural and what is 
not.  I believe these species once existed here, Captain.  I also believe 
they are now extinct.  Certainly, they do not exist in this vicinity, and 
given the conditions of this area, I would expect them to be present 
unless they were extinct," Spock said levelly.
  "My point is simply that, left to her own devices, 'Mother Nature,' 
despite the way you humans so fondly romanticize her, can be an 
unforgiving and merciless mistress, entirely capable of exterminating 
whole species without the interference of 'outside' forces.  The 
dinosaurs 'naturally' disappeared from your Earth, long before the 
advent of man.  I believe similar forces account for the 'distorted' 
ecology we are encountering here."
  "That's not very reassuring, Spock," Kirk observed.  "I really don't 
care how 'naturally' the dinosaurs died.  The point is, they're dead.  
If a lot of species haven't made it on this world, I want to know what 
killed them, and whether it's still around."
  Spock evaluated the discussion silently for a moment.
  "Perhaps I can make the situation clearer, Captain.  You are, of 
course, correct, that we need to review our data for any indications 
that whatever caused the loss of these species is still operative here.  
Our preliminary analysis does not indicate that it is.  However, we 
should review the data again and thoroughly assess that concern.  
Nevertheless, the most likely explanation for this situation, in my 
opinion, is the age of this planet and the low level of scientific and 
technological development of the indigenous humanoid species."
  Kirk looked at Spock in surprise.
  "We donUt usually associate science and technology with saving an 
ecosystemUs diversity, Spock."
  "That is true, Captain, in their early stages.  However, if a humanoid 
culture survives its nuclear age, it usually undergoes a 
transformation in which science and technology are employed to 
preserve species, often in opposition to 'natural' forces that would 
push them towards extinction.  I believe this ecology reflects the 
effect of unimpeded natural selection on an ancient world, Captain, 
without the moderating influence of the protection from enlightened 
science and technology."
  Kirk turned back to the group.
  "Well, people.  You have your work cut out for you.  I want you to 
work over your data until we can be certain that whatever killed the 
missing species isn't presently a threat.  Have Cmdr. Sulu focus the 
ship's scanners on this area to assist you."
  Kirk stood up and moved to the shuttle exit.  He nodded toward 
Spock and McCoy.
  "Let's step outside while they work on that project."  Kirk could tell 
from Spock's look that he was going to ask to stay and assist with the 
analysis.  "Come with us, Mr. Spock.  I want you to join us on a walk."
  The Vulcan followed the Captain and the doctor outside, into the cool 
twilight air.  When they had moved a few dozen meters away from 
the shuttle, Kirk stepped in front of his alien friend.
  "What the hell is with you, Spock?"
  The Science Officer turned his head back toward the Captain.
  "Sir?  I do not understand.  To what are you referring, Captain?"
  "That.  What you just did.  What are you doing with your head, 
Spock?," Kirk demanded.  "You look like you're listening for 
something."
  "Listening?,"  Spock shook his head.  "No, I am not listening for 
anything, sir."
  "He's been doing it all day," McCoy volunteered.  "Always got his 
head cocked towards the south."
  "Indeed?," Spock asked.
  "So what is it, Spock?," Kirk insisted again.
  "I do not know, Captain.  I was not aware of my behavior," the 
Vulcan explained innocently.
  McCoy intervened again.
  "I've run tricorder readings in that direction, Jim.  I can't pick up 
anything out of the ordinary.  Our lady friend is down in that 
direction, but that's about it."
  Kirk turned to the doctor in surprise.
  "How do you know that?," he inquired.
  McCoy blushed.
  "The medical scanner 'Ah-dar-ah'...," Kirk raised his eyebrows at 
McCoy's name for the alien girl, "...borrowed is sending back a steady 
stream of information, Jim.  I'd say your kamacara is about 5 km in 
that direction."  McCoy checked his tricorder.  "Could be she's headed 
this way."
  Kirk stared at his Science Officer.
  "Is it possible you're in communication with these beings, Spock?"
  The Vulcan shook his head.
  "I do not believe so, Captain."  Spock shifted uncomfortably, and 
inhaled deeply.  "I...am...experiencing... discomfort, Captain.  A sense 
of dis-ease.  There is no logical reason for my reaction, sir, and I am 
reluctant to talk about it until I can be more precise."
  Kirk stood silently evaluating Spock for a long time.  He shot a look at 
McCoy.  The doctor finished a quick scan of the Science Officer, then 
shook his head to indicate there was nothing medically wrong with 
the Vulcan.
  "All right, Spock," Kirk conceded, "we'll leave it for now.  But," the 
Captain emphasized to his notoriously stubborn friend, "I want you 
to follow up on your examinations and treatments with Dr. McCoy, 
understand?  No arguments.  No trouble.  Just do what he says."
  "Acknowledged, Captain," Spock reluctantly conceded.
  McCoy did his best not to gloat.
  Kirk turned away for a moment and studied the scene to the south.  
  He couldn't see far in the failing light.  He tried to recall anything 
unusual in that direction from his personal observations during the 
shuttle flight that afternoon.  Nothing out of the ordinary came to 
mind.  All the same, if Spock was reacting to something vaguely 
disturbing in that direction, Kirk was resolved to investigate. 
  "We'll make checking out that area our first priority after the 
encampment is established, gentlemen," Kirk announced.  "If our 
hosts are in that area, it should be easy--and appropriate--to have a 
nice, friendly visit.  Meanwhile," he said, as he turned back toward 
them, "we'll make our own settlement a bit further north, at least 
until I know there's no danger in whatever Spock's reacting to 
around here.  I don't think our hosts will mind."
  "We could not tell if they did, Captain," Spock observed.
  Kirk did not respond.  
  After a moment, he playfully cocked his head towards his friends.
  "How about it, gentlemen?  Would you like to live in the wide open 
spaces, or would you prefer a wooded lot on a hillside--something 
with a view, perhaps?" 
  McCoy chuckled at Kirk's joke, although the banter was lost on Spock.
  "Captain?  Would we not select the most logical site for our 
encampment after an analysis of relevant..."
  "Spock, Spock, Spock," Kirk shook his head sadly.  "What am I going 
to do with you, Mr. Spock?  The real estate market on this planet is 
wide open, Spock!  You need to think of the future."
  Spock still didn't get Kirk's joke.
  "No?," Kirk asked his friend.  "Well then, I'm going to consider my 
sanity.  I don't care how logical it is, I'm not living in the middle of 
that damn sea of grass!"  
  McCoy nodded gratefully.  Kirk pursed his lips, then continued.
  "Of course, we can't ignore logic completely.  All that flat land makes 
a terrific staging area for the evacuation, and we'll need a base for 
when we repair and restore the ship..."  Kirk appeared not to notice 
the reactions of his friends to the last remark.
  "...so we can't move to the valley floor," Kirk mused.  "If only all the 
trees weren't in the valley,' he complained.
  "Perhaps this will suit you, Captain," Spock offered, showing a scene 
on his tricorder.  "It is lightly forested, on relatively flat terrain at 
the northern end of the valley, sir.  As you can see, sir, there is 
almost a half kilometer of forest at the edge of the grassland, before 
the ground begins to drop away.  There is a small lake nearby, and it 
should be easily accessible--the valley walls at this location are 
considerably less steep than they are further south, Captain." 
  Kirk studied the image on the tricorder, then looked up at Spock as 
the last of the sun's rays streaked across the sky.
  "Mr. Spock, this is perfect!  Why, in close proximity, we have 
grassland for the base, forest for the encampment, and a lake for 
recreation."  Kirk grinned at his friend.  "You missed your calling Mr. 
Spock.  What a real estate agent you could have been!"  
  Spock stared at his friend in bewilderment.
  But don't worry, Spock, Kirk thought to himself, as he fought the 
bitterness that surged within him, if we don't get out of here, you 
may still be able to have a whole, new career.

  Murphy glanced up from the video terminal where an analysis of 
their data was feeding down from the ship's main computers.  He 
watched Chekov's face as the latter reviewed the conclusions.
  "You have the feed, Pavel?," Sulu called over the communicator.
  "Coming through now.  Gev me a moment to review it," the Russian 
responded.
  "Fair enough," Sulu responded.
  Murphy poured over the material alongside the First Officer.  
  When they had both gone through the conclusions and supporting 
data, the two officers looked at each other uncomfortably.
  "There sure as hell is nothing in this data that shows any present 
threat to life or health, sir," Murphy stated emphatically, "but Dr. 
McCoy was right.  There sure as hell have been an awful lot of 
species that didnUt make it on this world."
  Chekov nodded grimly.
  "You there, Chekov?," Sulu called.
  Chekov acknowledged the hail.
  "What do you think?," Sulu asked with his usual equanimity.
  "I think thet, all-in-all, I'd rather be in Leningrad."
  Sulu laughed briefly.
  "I know what you mean.  The data says this place is a paradise of 
healthful living, but it also says that most of the non-plant life on 
this continent died.  Sure doesn't do wonders for my sense of well-
being, either.  Better get the Captain and Spock so we can go over 
this," Sulu ordered.

  Kirk, Spock, and McCoy walked slowly back towards the shuttle.
  "Any sign of the young lady, doctor?," Kirk asked.
  McCoy consulted his tricorder.
  "She's somewhere to the south of us, Jim.  I still say she's moving in 
this direction, but she seems to be taking her own sweet time about 
it."
  Kirk smiled ruefully to himself in the dark.
  "It's not part of the 'natural flow of life' to hurry," he said in a 
strange voice.
  "Huh?," the doctor asked.
  "Something Uhura told me about the Sa'o," Kirk explained as they 
trudged along.  "By the way, Bones, what was that you called the girl 
earlier?"
  "Oh.  I just got tired of referring to her as 'she', or 'hey, you.'  I 
decided she needed a name, and I just made one up out of the only 
thing she's said."  The doctor put away his tricorder.  "I think 'Adara' 
has a nice sound to it, don't you?"
  Kirk opened his mouth to respond just as Chekov came up to them 
out of the darkness.  The younger man told them Sulu was ready to 
report on the health and safety issues.  
  The group of officers quickly reentered the shuttle, and clustered 
around the video display.  Spock pulled up the completed analysis of 
the ship's and landing partys' data on a terminal, and began his own 
evaluation.  Kirk signalled Sulu on the shuttle's communicator.
  "Captain," Sulu began.  "The analysis of our data is complete."  
  Kirk told him to continue. 
  Sulu's voice was serious.
  "Dr. McCoy is correct that there has been significant loss of life in this 
region, sir.  As best we can tell with the equipment we've got, ocean 
and aquatic life appears to be unaffected, but land and avian species 
on the continent have been heavily impacted by a force or agent we 
cannot identify.  With the damage the ship's scanners sustained we 
don't know yet if these conditions are planet-wide.  But there can 
be no doubt that there's been significant loss of life on that continent, 
Captain.  What we can't identify, at present, is what caused it."
  "What are the prime suspects, Sulu?," Kirk asked.
  "Two, sir.  Biological agents, of which none have been identified," Sulu 
responded, "and natural disasters, of which there were many.  That's 
not a single landmass, Captain," Sulu explained.  "Scans indicate that 
what we're calling a continent is actually comprised of three 
subcontinental-sized landmasses, whose tectonic plates were in 
collision at the time of planetary solidification.  That huge lake near 
you is actually the remnant of an inland sea that was trapped 
between the colliding landmasses.  There was a lot of action, 
geologically speaking, in that part of the planet, Captain."
  Kirk turned to his Science Officer.
  "How about it, Spock?"
  The Vulcan looked up from the terminal.
  "Capt. Sulu is correct that there was enormous geologic activity in 
this area, Captain.  Much more so than on the rest of this world, it 
would appear.  The forces that produced the mountain range to the 
north were enormous, and were present over a sustained period.  
The two lower plates, and the landmasses they carried, were literally 
being driven towards each other as well as over the southern shore 
of the more rapidly cooling northern plate.  I would say cataclysmic 
earthquakes and massive vertical uplifts were relatively 
commonplace for a portion of this region's history."
  "So you think the problem was geological, then, Spock?," Kirk 
concluded.
  "I did not say that, Captain."  Spock frowned.  "I cannot say that from 
the data at hand.  I can only agree with Capt. Sulu that the two most 
likely causes of the loss of life in this area are biological agents 
and/or geologic forces and their consequences.  I cannot be more 
specific than that with the available data, sir."
  It was Kirk's turn to frown.
  "Is there anything else you can tell from the data, Spock?"
  "I believe that whatever happened here virtually eliminated animal 
as well as insect life on this continent, Captain, and that this area is 
only now being repopulated with humanoid and other animal 
species, sir."
  At Kirk's look of surprise, Spock continued.
  "The peninsula at the southern end of the continent was formed from 
what was once a river delta at the southern end of the inland sea.  It 
is therefore of relatively recent origin.  With two exceptions, all of the 
settlements of the indigenous humanoids and all of the animal life 
we can identify in any profusion, are located on that peninsula.  
There are only two settlements on the main landmass itself.  Our 
'hosts' landed near the northern-most.  I would say these 
circumstances exist because this area is only now being repopulated after 
whatever catastrophe occurred."
  "I concur with that, Captain," Sulu chimed in.
  Kirk rubbed his eyes for the millionth time since they'd been torn 
across the galaxy from Menata.  Was there trouble in paradise, he 
asked himself, or were they being generously offered the 
opportunity to settle here because some ancient disaster had left the 
land virtually vacant?  If those disasters had been natural, geologic 
forces, the planet's present stability should allow them to settle 
safely.
  But if the problem had been biological...
  "Spock," Kirk demanded, "does the data indicate how long ago this 
loss of life occurred?"
  The Vulcan nodded.
  "I would say no less than 10,000 years ago, Captain."
  Kirk breathed a sigh of relief.
  "That should pretty well eliminate a threat from either biological or 
geological agents, shouldn't it, Spock?"
  The Vulcan shook his head.
  "Not necessarily, Captain.  There are a variety of simple, but deadly 
organisms in the known galaxy that can remain dormant for 
thousands of years, and revive to fatal effect once new prey or host 
organisms arrive.  They are rare, to be certain.  But," Spock looked at 
Kirk squarely, "they do exist."
  Kirk turned to McCoy.
  "Do you know the organisms he's talking about?," Kirk asked.
  The doctor nodded.
  "He's right, Jim.  The ones that could last that long are very rare, but 
they do exist.  But Jim," the doctor said reassuringly, "our medical 
scans are sophisticated enough to detect them, or any organism like 
them.  I don't find any evidence of such an organism here."
  Kirk stepped away from the others.  Whatever decision was made 
would be his alone.  Whatever the consequences, he would have 
chosen them for his crew.
  It wasn't like they had another attractive choice, he told himself, as 
he struggled with his discomfort about this data.  They were dead if 
they didn't evacuate the ship.  If there was a remote possibility of 
death on the surface from disease, Kirk knew that many of his crew 
would gladly take that risk.  Still, Kirk did not want to get sloppy, lest 
he expose the crew to unnecessary danger because he overlooked 
some obscure, but avoidable risk.  Spock's reactions to 
some...thing...he was not aware of, was another factor Kirk needed to 
consider.
  The Captain returned to his officers.
  "I think our hosts expected us to settle in this immediate area, 
gentlemen.  But, under the circumstances, I want a little more 
distance between us, and I prefer the conditions at a location Science 
Chief Spock has identified a little further north.  We'll move there."  
  Kirk spoke emphatically to his two senior officers.  "I want both of 
you to be on the alert for anything that may signal that we have a 
medical problem down here," he ordered firmly.
  He turned to SuluUs image on the viewing screen.
  "Start the evacuation," Kirk commanded.

  The shuttles came down in a steady relay, bringing Scotty and his 
surviving engineers to set up the staging area for the main 
evacuation.
  Karl Murphy had a secondary specialty in engineering, and quickly 
volunteered to fill out Scotty's depleted ranks.  He spent the long 
night coordinating the movement of shuttles and the material they 
carried, manhandling gear into position, preparing landing sites and 
off-loading zones.  It was back-breaking work even with automated 
equipment and anti-grav's.
  Near dawn, the Lieutenant finally got to take a much-needed break.  
He sat in exhaustion as yet another shuttle hovered down to a 
landing and began engine shut-down.  
  Murphy noticed a faint glow in the eastern sky.  It would be daylight 
soon.  Still, he thought, as he looked around him, without light from 
urban areas it stayed pretty damned dark on this world.
  A faint sparkle of light off in the blackness to the southwest caught 
his eye.  It reminded him of fireflies, the way it was bobbing about 
in the distance.  It seemed only mildly interesting, and in any event, 
Murphy was too exhausted to stand up to investigate flickering little 
lights.  If it was something significant, the Security and science 
personnel they'd assembled on the surface would check it out.
  Murphy kept a weary eye on the shuttle hatch.  It was at least 
mildly entertaining to watch the reactions of the new arrivals from 
the ship to their new 'home away from home'.  
  Everyone who arrived on the surface was not a fan of the outdoor 
life.  The crew members with more urban tastes in entertainment 
and lifestyles often groaned as they emerged from the shuttle.
  The fireflies grew larger.  Murphy watched them with more interest.  
  They seemed to be coming closer, the Lieutenant noted.  A blue orb 
now shone steadily among the small dots of light approaching him.
  Murphy's attention was absorbed by the approaching lights, and he 
paid only scant attention to the latest crew members who exited the 
shuttle and filed towards him.
  "Hey, Lieutenant.  Where's the nightlife on this rock?," asked a 
particularly unimpressed young man.
  Murphy cast a quick glance of amused sympathy at the questioner, 
then turned his attention back to the glittering lights.
  'Adara' stepped out of the darkness.
  "I'm looking at it, Chief.  I'm looking at it."

                            (To be continued.....)