STAR TREK: TOS #9 - Triangle Read online

  THE DEVIL’S CHOICE

  The holo-spaces above the console filled with two life-size figures stranded on two separate ledges divided by a chasm too wide to jump—and by a slowly rising flow of lava which eroded their ledges.

  The Human figure—Kirk—was only partly conscious. But the Vulcan was fully conscious of his helplessness.

  “So there it is, my dear,” Soljenov said. “You may save one of them, but only one, by bonding with him. Bonded, you might bring him through the Focal Field alive.”

  Sola Thane looked from Kirk to Spock, from Spock to Kirk. It was in her hands now. Her choice—with finality.

  PUBLISHED BY POCKET BOOKS NEW YORK

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Another Original publication of POCKET BOOKS

  POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, N.Y. 10020

  Copyright © 1983 by Paramount Pictures Corporation. All Rights Reserved.

  This Book is Published by Pocket Books, a Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. Under Exclusive License from Paramount Pictures Corporation, the Trademark Owner.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, N.Y. 10020

  ISBN: 0-671-60548-8

  First Pocket Books printing March, 1983

  10 9 8 7 6 5

  POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  STAR TREK Is A Trademark of Paramount Pictures Corporation Registered In The U.S. Patent And Trademark Office.

  Printed in the U.S.A.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  About the e-Book

  Prologue

  The Ambassador stood alone before the Federation Council. The Council knew, however, that the newly confirmed Ambassador to Zaran was never alone. He was One.

  “I shall require the Enterprise to take my Oneness to Zaran,” the Ambassador said.

  “There is no route,” the member from Andor said, “except through what the Humans call the Marie Celeste Sector—where every smaller ship has vanished.”

  “Yes. Therefore, I require the best starship.”

  A man rose in the chamber. He was the Chief of Staff of Starfleet. “It is your neck, Ambassador, but it is my starship.”

  The Ambassador nodded fractionally. “I would judge it is your neck, also. Your opposition to my mission to Zaran is known.”

  [8] The Chief of Staff rose to his full height, which matched the Ambassador’s. “That’s right,” he said. “I grant your right to the diversity of your Oneness, but I defend with my neck the right of every other diversity to exist. Zaran imposes Oneness by force. You have said nothing against that. I do not send the cub to guard the bear.”

  The Ambassador shrugged. “Do you send the amoeba to understand the man? Only a Oneness can hope to deal with a Oneness. But whether you or I like it or not, Oneness is coming to the galaxy. Whether by force or not, I do not know. The New Human movement now permeates your own planet. Collective consciousness is springing up everywhere. We are tomorrow.”

  “Or yesterday,” the Chief of Staff said. “Perhaps a blind alley in evolution. There were many. No dinosaur ever knew that it was not a workable solution. You consider my people throwbacks, but it was those throwbacks who took us to the stars. And it is still old-fashioned love among solitary beings which keeps my ships going. I will give you the Enterprise, where you may learn something extraordinary about that. Then tell me whether love, or Oneness, will keep us in the stars.”

  The Ambassador smiled ironically. “Have you considered my servant Job?” he quoted.

  There was a ripple of puzzlement in the chamber. “Translator context inadequate,” the Andorian protested.

  “It is not important,” the Ambassador said. “Merely an ancient Human text said to report on a similar occasion. God’s servant Job was the best; therefore, he was given to the Devil to test.” He bowed to the Commander in Chief. “I accept, on the usual terms and conditions.”

  “What terms?” the Tellarite asked.

  “That I may take his soul.”

  The Chief of Staffs eyes hardened. “Ambassador Gailbraith,” he said, “I would give my right arm to command that ship myself. Failing that, there is one man I would trust to keep his soul from the Devil himself.”

  Gailbraith bowed fractionally. “Captain James T. Kirk. Unfortunately, the Devil will not be his adversary ...”

  Chapter 1

  The solar system lay before them like a star traveler’s dream: beautiful, untouched, a present from the universe, waiting to be unwrapped. Or a trap waiting to be sprung ...

  “The Cephalus system,” First Officer Spock said from the Enterprise science station, “is the mathematical center of the Marie Celeste Sector. We must consider that it is a starship trap.”

  “Agreed, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said. “Habitable planets?”

  Captain James T. Kirk saw the Vulcan’s dark head and pointed ears bend over the scanners, and he took advantage of Spock’s concentration to move, too carefully, from near the turbolift doors to the command seat.

  Not that there was much the Vulcan was going to miss about his Captain, or ever had, but the last thing Kirk wanted [10] just now was for Spock to read whatever the hell was going on with his Captain. Fatigue, that was all. And a few half-healed injuries—ribs cracked and the like. He’d been banged up a little too much lately. And not getting much sleep, with those peculiar nightmares. Once, one of the nightmares had started to come by day ... Suddenly, now, it came again ...

  He was in some place where he was not alone, would never be alone again. Someone was with him who knew everything he was or wanted to be, and who was One with him, known to him, too—to the last secret. There was nothing more to be hidden or resisted. There were others, too, each one unique, but all now a part of him. And he knew now that they were a new life-form, struggling to be born. And, like any life-form, would have to grow, or die ...

  Kirk snapped himself out of it, realizing only then that he had slipped into that peculiar state again. It was a momentary feeling-state for which there were really no words. He was not certain why he felt such a depth of longing—so urgent, as if it had touched some inner, unknown core of loneliness. He was certain only that he had never felt anything like it, and never wanted to again.

  And now he realized that he had had a moment’s lapse on the Bridge.

  That, he knew, could not properly be hidden from the Vulcan, who was
his Second-in-Command.

  Still he felt a curious reluctance to confess it.

  Then Spock turned and Kirk saw that he had been read like Braille. The dark Vulcan eyes commented silently that the Human had unwrapped a few surprise packages too many lately, and sprung too many traps.

  “The fourth planet,” Spock said aloud, “is marginally Class-M, but extremely hazardous. There is a large satellite. And a very small one. Or a one-being ship in orbit.”

  “A one-man ship here?” Kirk said. “That would take more guts than brains.”

  “An excess which Humans have been known to demonstrate,” Spock said pointedly.

  “Whereas Vulcans, of course, only stick their stubborn necks out for perfectly logical reasons.”

  [11] “Of course, Captain,” Spock agreed blandly.

  Kirk suppressed a grin and felt most of the fatigue drop away, which was doubtless what Spock had intended.

  “Captain,” Uhura said before Kirk could pursue a further Vulcan-routine, and Kirk heard a stress in her voice which made him turn to look at his Communications Officer. Her Bantu face was set in its usual beautiful discipline, but now with an anger which he could read.

  “Ambassador Gailbraith is requesting a priority channel to the Federation Council to protest this delay and your behavior.”

  Kirk found himself trying to brace the cracked ribs, and stopped it. “Inform the Ambassador that he may have a channel to the Council when we are not under subspace silence. We are in the zone of ship disappearances which blocks travel to Zaran, as he knows.”

  “Yes, sir.” Uhura started to turn back to her board. “Sir, may I make a personal observation?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Sir, the crew doesn’t understand Ambassador Gailbraith and his party. Some of them have been pressuring our people to join their ‘Oneness’—they don’t seem to take ‘no’ for an answer. The crew’s starting to say: ‘Are these the New Humans? Are they what we’re supposed to be out here for—or what we are supposed to become?’ ”

  Kirk smiled ruefully. “I don’t ‘reach’ the Ambassador and company too well myself. I’m not sure whether his party would call themselves New Humans. But they do seem to be part of a growing trend toward submerging the individual in a larger consciousness. If they’re the future, I suppose we are the past. But I wouldn’t bet that it isn’t the other way around.”

  “But they’re going to Zaran, sir—and they act as if they are going home.”

  Kirk did not smile now. He had made some efforts to consider the point of view by which he and his kind—Spock, McCoy, Uhura, the Enterprise crew and all of Starfleet—were more or less prehistoric throwbacks to an outdated age of individualism. But he did not, finally, believe it.

  And that New Human view had nearly cost him the stars. The New Humans had little real use for Starfleet, and to overcome their growing influence, Commanding Admiral [12] Heihachiro Nogura had wanted to keep Kirk on Earth as a live hero and a living argument for Starfleet. He had caught Kirk at a vulnerable moment at the end of the first five-year mission, and the result was the three years Kirk had spent at the Admiralty—learning that he could not live there.

  If he had not seized on the Vejur crisis as an opportunity to regain command of the Enterprise, he would have been there still—or at least until Earth was destroyed by Vejur. Spock, theoretically, would have embraced the total non-emotion of Kolinahr in the mountains of Gol.

  Somehow Kirk had never expected the philosophy of One to follow him into the spaces between the stars, at least not in this form.

  The Ambassador and his party looked like normal Humans with a sprinkling of other species, but shared some form of Oneness he did not understand. He had learned to live with and appreciate many diversities. This one made him acutely uncomfortable, and he was realizing now that perhaps that discomfort was part of his own curious fatigue. He snapped himself back to the immediate problem.

  “The Ambassador’s philosophy is not our concern,” he said. “We are merely ordered to get him to Zaran.”

  “Eventually,” Uhura said under her breath, and Kirk saw Weapons Officer Pavel Chekov give her a long look.

  “Uhura,” Kirk said, “we have received no political orders.”

  “No, sir,” Uhura said stoutly. “Of course not.” She did not add that they had been ordered to investigate two unknown solar systems and a years-old unsolved mystery of disappearing ships en route. There was a policy there somewhere.

  “You will relay my message to the Ambassador,” Kirk said. “I will see him when convenient.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kirk turned back to Spock.

  “The scoutship,” Spock said, “is in landing approach to the fourth planet.”

  “Uhura,” Kirk said, “raise that scout. Warn it of extremely hazardous planet conditions. What’s it like down there, Mr. Spock?”

  “Think of it as an Earth of a million years ago. There are wild extremes—heat, cold, rain, drought, jungle, volcanoes, predators. And it is in a stage of gigantism such as Earth had. [13] The life-form readings are much larger than one would expect.”

  “How much larger?” Kirk asked, suspecting that he did not want to know.

  Spock shrugged. “Remember the Olduvai Gorge findings? Africa, mid-twentieth century. A Dr. Leaky found bones of sheep which stood twelve feet high at the shoulder—with six-foot spans of horses. There were predators to match. Also one primitive humanoid, about our size—who died at an early age.”

  Kirk grinned, finding that kind of problem really much more to his taste. “Mr. Spock, you are a tower of strength and encouragement.”

  “Captain,” Uhura said, “I can’t raise the scout, but it sent off a micro-burst of high-speed code as it went down. We can’t read it, but I recognize the type. It’s an idiosyncratic memory code of the kind used only by a Free Agent of the Federation.”

  “A Free Agent!” Kirk found himself on his feet, the fatigue falling away at the prospect of action. “Plot the landing trajectory, Mr. Sulu, and relay the landing coordinates to the Transporter Room. Mr. Spock, come with me.”

  Spock followed him into the turbolift.

  “VIP Guest Quarters,” Kirk said to the voice control.

  “I will call a transporter party,” Spock began.

  “We are the party, Mr. Spock—as soon as I have a word with Ambassador Gailbraith.”

  “Doctor McCoy specified light duty after your last injuries.”

  Kirk shrugged. “A stroll on the planet, Mr. Spock. The air will do me good.” Spock started to protest, but he cut it off. “That’s a Free Agent down there, Spock, and that signal was almost certainly some call for help. A Free Agent doesn’t break idiosyncratic code silence for much less than a world coming to an end.”

  Spock nodded. “The call, however, was not to us.”

  “Nevertheless, we’re going in. We would offer assistance to any lone traveler on a world like that—and check out any lone figure in a suspicious sector. If we did less, it would only be because we know it is a Free Agent. If anybody is watching ...”

  He stopped as the turbolift deposited them near the VIP [14] Guest Wing. “A Free Agent. You know, Spock, if I have any heroes ...”

  There had been only a handful of full-fledged Free Agents in Starfleet history. They answered to no one except the Old Man himself—not even to Commanding Admiral Nogura, but to the Chief of Staff of Starfleet. They could and did hold the power of peace and war, reform and revolution. Not one man in a billion had that kind of mind and nerve and terrible independence. And most who had ever held that rank had died in it. Young.

  “Starship captains,” Spock said, “seldom survive a five-year mission.”

  Kirk looked at him, startled, as if the Vulcan had read his thought. “That’s different,” he said.

  Spock nodded dispassionately. “Yes. It is harder.”

  Kirk found himself unreasonably touched. But he was in no condition to pursue it. He set himself a
nd went through the double doors into the VIP Lounge.

  Chapter 2

  The gray weight of fatigue settled on Kirk again. He saw the Ambassador and his party, perhaps thirty of them, standing in a circle, each with a hand touching the back of the neck or base of the skull of the next one. They wore short white-belted robes, some over dark tights. They were men and women—predominantly young, but centered around a powerful figure of authority: Gailbraith. Their eyes were closed and the aura of some contact between them was almost palpable, even to Kirk. He could have held that sense of contact in his hands. Or perhaps it could have held him ...

  He saw his First Officer react to it with the sensitivity of Vulcan attunement to telepathy, and Spock’s reaction was to step in front of Kirk with something blazing from his dark eyes which Kirk had not seen before.

  [16] The Ambassador’s eyes opened and locked with Spock’s, and now Kirk could sense the unified power of the Oneness directed toward himself. Then he could sense the Vulcan’s mental fight against it.

  Kirk felt shockingly drained, and suddenly he wondered if this could be having some effect on him beyond his own fatigue and half-healed injuries. But if it affected him—what would it do to a born telepath?

  Kirk stepped forward himself and stepped in between the Ambassador and Spock. The circle parted and Kirk crossed to confront Gailbraith. Eyes popped open around the group, and some carrier-wave was broken. Some of the group remained to watch their meeting, and some drifted off.

  “Ambassador,” Kirk said, “you are, of course, welcome to practice your customary mental disciplines on this ship, so long as you respect the rights of other beings. However, we have a number of species aboard who are sensitive in some way to mental emanations. I do not expect you to use your Oneness to broadcast hostility, ill will, or attempts to proselytize.”

  The Ambassador shrugged. He was tall, broad-shouldered, of an aristocratic bearing, gray-eyed, his face carved out of some crag. He was perhaps the last man anyone would have suspected as a candidate for Oneness. If an artist had looked for a model of rugged individualism, he would have picked that face.