Star Trek: The Original Series - 082 - Federation (37 page)

“Keptin.” A young Russian officer at the center console spoke up. “The enemy wessels are changing formation.” As Kirk glanced at the screen, Cochrane saw two of the three battleships change position. In the same instant, he suddenly realized that the wreckage on the screen was what was left of the spaceship he had just been on.

“Keep watch on their weapons readiness,” Kirk said calmly.

“Uhura, keep trying with all hailing frequencies.” He looked back to the Vulcan. “Spock? Did you know that? That the Optimum Movement survived into the early twenty-second century?” Cochrane was impressed with Kirk’s ability to keep track of so many situations at once, much as Dr. McCoy had managed in sickbay. He wondered if all people of this time were equally capable, or if by some coincidence two of the best had ended up on the same ship.

“Records show,” Spock began, “that the original Optimum Movement was destroyed during the postatomic horror. However, it would not be impossible for splinter organizations to have sprung up, much as neo-Nazi groups continued to arise for more than six decades after Earth’s second world war. That likelihood is increased if we accept that some Optimum leaders were able to escape to the colony worlds, as the popular entertainment of the time repeatedly proposed.” Kirk looked back at the screen, keeping track of the warships.

“What about the chances of the Optimum Movement surviving till today?” “1 would suggest that was highly improbable, Captain. There is not a world in the Federation where such a political movement would be tolerated. The Klingons, for all their barbarity, would find the Optimum ideals abhorrent for their lack of honor. And the Romulans would never support any political organization that did not originate with them.” “Which leaves us with our opening question,” Kirk said.

“Who’s in those ships?” “Sir,” the Asian officer said, “we’re being scanned again.” “Shields to full power,” Kirk ordered. “Give them some feedback to confuse their readings.” The admiral ignored Cochrane for a moment. “How long are we going to hang here doing nothing?” she asked Kirk irritably.

Kirk shifted in his chair, and Cochrane was surprised yet again at the familiarity with which the captain addressed his commanding officer. Whatever organization ran this ship, it was unlike any military group he had ever encountered back in his time.

“Admiral, we’ve got a cracked dilithium crystal, damage to the port nacelle strut, thirty crew injured, and weapons capability less than sixty percent. Ten kilometers out there are three top-of-the-line D7 battle cruisers. Two are untouched, the other has shields at eighty-seven percent, and they’re jamming every subspace frequency in the spectrum so we can’t call for help. The only reason we’re not in pieces like that spaceliner is that we backed away from the wreckage so they could scan it. My guess is that the onlv reason they didn’t press the attack is that they don’t know if we have Cochrane on board or not. Right now, I’m betting they’re asking for additional orders from wherever their command center
s. And each minute they wait before they come at us is another minute my engineer has to try and get us back into fighting condition.” Kirk turned back to Cochrane, apparently not concerned that if he had spoken to a commanding officer that way in Cochrane’s time he would have been court-martialed. If anything, Cochrane thought, the ship ran along the same lines he had run his research facility on Centauri B II: he had been in charge, but everyone was free to question him, provided the work proceeded responsibly and on schedule.

“Now, Mr. Cochrane,” Kirk said, “forget everything we’ve just told you about how history deals with the Optimum Movement.

Who kidnapped you from the Companion’s planetoid? What did they do to you on board the Planitia? And who the hell do you think is commanding those cruisers?” Cochrane sighed. He directed the Companion to a seat on the upper level behind Kirk. He was grateful that she was content to remain a silent comfort to him as he struggled to interact with others of his kind in this new time. He knew, however, that she would be at his side the moment he faltered. As Cochrane turned to face Kirk, he felt more tired than he ever had when his body had been eighty-seven. “On the planetoid where you found me, I was attacked by humanoids with green skin. I had run up to their ship. It was small, like your shuttlecraft. I thought it might be you again. One of them had some kind of rifle. That’s the last I remember of that night.” “Those men were Orion pirates,” Kirk told him. The captain kept his eyes riveted on the screen. “The rifle was either a phaser or disruptor. Either way, it would shock your nervous system, knock you out. What happened next?” “I woke up, sore, sick, on a large spaceship.” Remembering what had happened was almost as unpleasant as what he had actually experienced. “I could hear people shouting, crying. The humanolds with green skins told me the others were hostages. To make sure nothing happened until… until some kind of trade was arranged.” “Who told you about a trade?” Kirk asked.

“A different type of humanoid. Definitely alien. Oily skin, black beard and mustache.” “That was a Klingon,” Spock said.

“They’re the enemy?” Cochrane asked. He could believe it. The alien had been objectionable from the moment he had stormed into Cochrane’s stateroom and offered him a plate of still-wriggling worms. When Cochrane had refused, the alien had acted outraged, as if eating live worms was a great honor where he came from.

But the admiral apparently didn’t agree with Cochrane’s assessment. She interjected swiftly, “Let’s just say that, so far, the Federation and the Klingon Empire have yet to discover common ground. At the moment, we’re finishing negotiationswamong the Klingon and Romulan Empires, and the Federation—to establish a joint colony on Nimbus III. It will become the Planet of Galactic Peace—a crowning achievement for interplanetary diplomacy at the highest level.” Kirk rolled his eyes at that; then he asked Cochrane to continue. “What else did the Klingon tell you? What kind of trade was he expecting?” Cochrane shrugged. “At the time, he didn’t say. I thought it was some kind of hostage situation, a mass kidnapping.” “Did they ever ask you your name?” Spock asked.

Cochrane shook his head. “No. That’s why I thought I was just a random victim. Until Captain Kirk said those ships were after me.” Spock looked at Kirk. “Captain, we have yet to hear an explicit mention of Cochrane, or a specific demand for him. There is a slight chance this could all be a coincidence.” Kirk laughed. “Don’t let McCoy hear you say that.” He took on a thoughtful expression. “Mr. Cochrane, why was the Optimum Movement so eager to hunt you down in your own time? And how could that same reason possibly be valid today, one hundred and rift>’ years later?” Cochrane hesitated, trying to think of the simplest way to tell Kirk what people had once thought the continuum-distortion field capable of. But before he could answer, the admiral stepped in front of him.

“Mr. Cochrane, the answer to that question is classified, and I insist you do not answer it.” Cochrane and Kirk both objected at the same time. Spock raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing is classified after a century and a half,” Kirk said testily. He looked angry, and unlike the doctor’s earlier mood, Cochrane could see that this anger was real.

“I am not a part of whatever organization you represent,” Cochrane told the admiral. He could feel himself grow upset as well. “I can say whatever I want about my work.” The military had not been able to restrain him back in his own time, and he was not about to allow them to begin now.

But the admiral was unlike any older woman from Cochrane’s day. She stepped closer to him. She was a foot and a half shorter than he, but still she tried to stare him down. “The ‘organization’ I represent is called Starfleet, Mr. Cochrane, and this is a Starfleet vessel. By being present on it, sir, you are compelled to obey my orders. You will not answer Captain Kirk’s question.” Cochrane glared down at the woman, forgetting her age.

Arrogance, it seemed, had not gone out of fashion.

Kirk tried to reason with her. “What work could Cochrane possibly have done so long ago that it’s still classified today?” The admiral turned her fury on Kirk. “I’ve had enough of your interference, Captain. You will not—” Cochrane had had enough. “The warp bomb,” he said, and before anyone else could react, the admiral slapped him.

The Companion gasped and with surprising swiftness moved to Cochrane’s side, pulled him back, inserting herself as a shield before him. She was half-crouched, hands out as if ready to physically attack the admiral. Kirk jumped out of his chair in the same instant. The entire bridge crew turned to see what had happened. Spock stepped to the admiral’s side, ready to intervene from that position. The admiral herself stood with her hand still upraised, quivering with fury.

“I said no,” she shouted, voice quaking.

“Admiral,” Kirk said quickly, trying to mollify her, “the warp bomb is an illusion. An engineering impossibility.” The admiral snapped her head around to confront Kirk. And in that moment, seeing the look that passed from her to the captain, Cochrane had the horrible realization that both he and the captain had been wrong—the warp bomb was not an impossibility.

Somehow, in this future time, it had become real.

And it was still a secret.

Kirk looked over at the Vulcan. “Spock, it is an impossibility, isn’t it?” Spock studied the admiral with interest. Cochrane guessed he had interpreted the look that the admiral had given the captain in the same way he had. “To the best of my knowledge,” Spock said, “it is.*’ “Admiral Kabreigny,” Kirk said quietly, “it is apparent that you are under a great deal of strain. With respect, I must insist that you explain yourself, or leave my bridge.” The admiral closed her hand into a fist. “Starfleet is all that stands between the United Federation of Planets and. anarchy, Captain. I am a Fleet admiral. I will not explain myself to you.” Kirk shook his head, as if trying to find something to say and not succeeding. “I’m sorry, Admiral. I really am.” He touched the arm of his chair. “Dr. McCoy to the bridge. Medical emergency.” “You traitor,” the admiral said to Kirk. Cochrane had the feeling he had stepped into the middle of a conflict that had been going on for years. If not between the admiral and Kirk, then between the two factions they represented. “You’re part of it, aren’t you? That’s why those ships haven’t attacked. Because they know you’re going to turn him over!” The admiral made a move as if to strike Kirk. Kirk grabbed her wrists, awkwardly holding her back. “Admiral, please,” he begged her. “I’m not part of anything. I assure you I will not turn Mr.

Cochrane over to—” “Liar.”’ the admiral said. She struggled in Kirk’s grasp, her situation all the more maddening to her because it was so evident that she did not have the strength to free herself.

Mr. Spock moved behind the admiral and put his hand on her shoulder as if about to give her an encouraging pat. But suddenly, the admiral groaned, arched back, then fell limp into Spock’s arms.

Cochrane was appalled. The admiral had worked herself into a heart attack. Once again, his life’s work had disturbed the balance.

Spock lifted the admiral into his arms as if she were a doll.

“Shouldn’t you start CPR?” Cochrane asked. Surely that wasn’t a lost art.

Kirk put his hand on Cochrane’s shoulder. “It’s not a heart attack. A Vulcan nerve pinch. The admiral’s health is not. robust.” Cochrane twisted his head to see Kirk’s hand on his shoulder.

He had heard that Vulcans had strange mental powers. He wondered if they could be taught to humans.

Kirk saw what Cochrane was looking at. He removed his hand.

“Relax. I can’t do it. And despite what the admiral said, I’m not your enemy.” McCoy rushed out of the turbolift, followed by what Coclrane took to be two other medical workers in blue shirts. In moments the doctor was gesturing over the admiral’s unconscious form with his glittering instruments while his assistants carefully took the admiral from Mr. Spock and laid her gently on the deck.

Spock told McCoy about the nerve pinch; McCoy agreed it had been a good decision, something about the admiral’s heart; then he touched a standard spray hypo against her arm. Cochrane was surprised to see such an antique device in the doctor’s arsenal. It looked barely different from the spray hypos he remembered as a child, though he assumed it had to be far more sophisticated on the inside.

“Could anyone tell me what all that was about?” Cochrane asked. He was beginning to think all he was good for any more was asking questions. But old habits died hard. Perhaps something he might learn would give him a clue to his role in this new age.

“Secrecy has taken its toll,” Spock answered, after Kirk nodded at him to do so. “There is apparently some conspiracy afoot which involves both you and a purported warp bomb. The senior officers of this ship were concerned that the admiral was part of that conspiracy. On the other hand, it appears that she was equally worried that we were in fact the conspirators.” “So who are the conspirators?” Cochrane asked.

“Presumably, whoever is on those ships,” Spock said.

Cochrane studied the viewscreen image of the three battle cruisers, as Kirk had called them. “And they won’t talk to you?” “Not so far,” Kirk said. u ‘Because they can’t be sure if I’m on board?” “There has to be some reason why they didn’t continue their attack,” Kirk said. “If you go by the numbers, in our present condition we’re no match for them.” Cochrane liked the qualification in Kirk’s assessment, as if Kirk still believed he and his ship were a match for whatever they faced. “You don’t strike me as someone who goes by the numbers very often, Captain Kirk.” Kirk grinned at him, and in that moment Cochrane felt again that they could be friends. They seemed alike in many ways, their different paths the result of their different times. Cochrane had had no rules to play by, everything about interplanetary exploration had been new. But Kirk also seemed to him to be the same unrestrained, questing spirit he himself had once been, though Kirk was obviously forced to work within a bureaucracy of exploration. Cochrane was bemused by the concept— interplanetary exploration becoming so commonplace that it was run by the twenty-third-century equivalent of civil servants.