STAR TREK: TOS - Prime Directive Read online

  Kirk sat back in his chair and put a hand to his face. This was about as good as the time when he and Gary Mitchell were both cadets and had rigged a bridge simulator at the Academy so it would respond to requests for spacedocking drills by recreating unexpected high-gee combat maneuvers. How could they have known that Rear Admiral Chan was going to tour the simulator that day? Fortunately, the rear admiral, despite being one hundred and ten, had risen through the ranks during the Romulan Wars. He had performed well on the combat maneuvers and hadn’t pressed for a full computer investigation to learn who had reprogrammed the equipment. Though the tactics instructors had known there were only two plausible suspects and had started them both on a month-long, highly personalized calisthenics program.

  However, Alonzo Richter’s reputation was not at all like Rear Admiral Chan’s. Kirk briefly considered wearing phaser armor for their meeting—though if Richter were really as bad as the [123] stories about him said he was, Kirk knew that no amount of protection would help.

  It was the most extensive communications blackout Kirk had ever operated under. The Enterprise was even prevented from using her transporters while on the side of the moon visible to Talin IV—and there was still no explanation why. That meant that for the next ten days at least, all travel between the ship and the lunar outpost would have to be by shuttle. Thus, in the interest of saving as much transit time as possible, Kirk brought a full landing party down to the outpost in two shuttles. That way, there would be extra room for FCO personnel to return to the ship when it was time for the mission to Talin IV to begin.

  Sulu piloted the shuttle Galileo with Uhura, Chekov, and Carolyn Palamas. Kirk himself sat at the controls of a second shuttle, the John Burke, accompanied by Spock and McCoy.

  As Kirk explained to McCoy what had transpired when communications had finally been established with the FCO outpost, the doctor also expressed his surprise that Richter was stationed on Talin’s moon, but for a completely different reason.

  “Isn’t he dead, Jim?”

  “Given the fact that the captain stated that he and Dr. Richter have just spoken with each other, that is a most illogical question, Doctor.”

  “I stand willing to be corrected, Spock.”

  “That has not been my experience.”

  “Let me rephrase that: I stand willing to be corrected by those who know better than I do.”

  It was going to take Kirk thirty minutes to reach the outpost by traveling in a long course that would put the shuttles’ final approach within the shadows of the mountain range under which the outpost had been constructed. It would be an unbearable thirty minutes if he had to listen to Spock and McCoy trying to outdo each other the whole way.

  “Dead, Bones? What made you think that?” Kirk asked to break the rhythm of his officers’ conversation.

  [124] “Back in med school I took an elective course in the history of theoretical cultural dynamics. We had to study the Richter Scale of Culture and, as I recall, Richter was an old man even back then. He’d have to be well over a hundred years old by now.”

  “One hundred and seven,” Spock said. “I continue to study Dr. Richter’s work, and he has remained quite productive and formidable, despite his advanced years.”

  “So tell me, Spock,” McCoy began, and Kirk could hear the playful challenge in the doctor’s voice, “after your years of continued study, do you understand the Richter Scale of Culture?”

  “The basic underlying structure of the Scale which identifies and quantifies similar organizational principles of disparate cultures through a systematic series of—”

  “Yes or no, Spock,” McCoy interrupted.

  “The Richter Scale of Culture is not a ‘yes or no’ system, Doctor, which accounts for—”

  From the corner of his eye, Kirk saw McCoy lean forward in his seat. “What he means, Jim, is that he doesn’t understand it, either.”

  “Who does?” Kirk returned the doctor’s smile. The Richter Scale of Culture was considerably more art than science, though in the absence of any other objective means of assessing the development of alien civilizations so they could be compared to each other, it was the best system the combined sciences of history, anthropology, comparative techtronistics, exopsychology, sociology, and nonhuman ethnology had yet created.

  Since its original publication more than sixty years earlier, the Scale had been continually revised and refined by Dr. Richter to become the Federation’s most important tool for determining at which point in a civilization’s development the Prime Directive need no longer apply. Unfortunately, over the same number of years, the Richter Scale had become so complex that only a handful of specialists could apply it to any civilization much advanced past first-level Bronze Age, or [125] A.345-34019-1 dr.1, as the current revised Richter Scale would describe it.

  For the majority of nonspecialists, it was a simple matter to interpret gross Richter Scale ratings by memorizing the basic forty-three preface-letter descriptors which ranged from AA—to indicate no tool use—to the last meaningful letter rating of Q, which was generally taken to mean no technology advanced beyond the current theories upon which Federation science was based. A forty-fourth category, the one with which the general lay public was most fascinated and Starfleet most concerned, was XX, which indicated an apparent culture with apparent technology that apparently was absolutely beyond any explanation based on any current understanding and/or theory of science.

  Qualified personnel who had studied theoretical cultural dynamics for a minimum of two years could interpret more detailed Richter Scale listings which ran, in some cases, to three preface letters, combined with twenty-one explanatory qualification digits, followed by five exception letters and twelve philosophical-comparison pointers. However, to actually analyze a new technological civilization and create a Richter Scale of Culture Rating for it was something that perhaps only a thousand beings in the entire Federation were capable of doing with consistent results. Since most of them worked for Starfleet’s FCO, given that there were almost a thousand to choose from, it was all the more surprising that someone as old as Alonzo Richter himself would have been required to make the long trip to Talin and live in a notoriously spartan FCO outpost.

  “The Richter Scale of Culture is not that difficult to comprehend, Captain,” Spock said.

  Kirk nodded. “Agreed.” A good library computer could give the textbook definitions of a complete Richter rating in perfect detail. “But I think what Bones is referring to is how difficult it is to create an original Richter rating to begin with.”

  “That is true, Captain,” Spock agreed, though Kirk knew he would not have, if McCoy had just stated the same thing.

  [126] Kirk enjoyed the silence for a moment. But he was still concerned about the trouble he might have inadvertently caused himself. Alonzo Richter’s influence within the Council and Starfleet Command was legendary. “Spock, since you’ve been keeping up with Dr. Richter’s work, do you have any idea what he’s doing at the outpost?”

  “I have no obvious answer, Captain. And because I have no obvious answer, then I must conclude that Dr. Richter’s presence here has been intentionally kept secret by Starfleet.”

  “But that makes no sense,” McCoy protested. “This is hundreds of lightyears away from any disputed territory with the Klingons or the Romulans. And the Talin present no new military threat to the Federation. Why keep the FCO’s operation here secret?”

  “Not the entire operation, Doctor. Just Dr. Richter’s presence has been kept unreported.”

  “But why?” Kirk asked, smoothly changing the shuttle’s heading. He checked Sulu’s position on his board. The Galileo was perfectly on course exactly two kilometers astern.

  “Since his presence was unreported, obviously I cannot give an exact answer. However, I can suggest possible reasons for his presence under these circumstances.”

  Kirk heard McCoy shift position in his seat. “Just answer the damned question, Spock.”


  “I can think of several possible answers.” As Spock qualified his statement McCoy snorted noisily. “But I would conclude that the most likely explanation is that some questions have arisen concerning Talin IV’s placement on the Richter Scale of Culture and that Richter himself has been brought in to settle the dispute.”

  “But differing interpretations of Richter ratings is extremely common, isn’t it?” Kirk asked. “Especially the more technologically advanced a given civilization is.”

  “Correct, Captain. Some debates have continued for decades, all to do with minute differences in the philosophical-comparison pointers or a one-digit shift in an explanatory qualification rank. But whatever debate there is that concerns [127] Talin IV’s Richter rating, it cannot be allowed to continue over a long period of time.”

  “Because the threat of all-out war might mean there soon could be no more Talin civilization to rate?” McCoy asked.

  “Not exactly, Doctor. Richter ratings can and have been made from studies of dead civilizations. After the number of years the FCO has observed the Talin, I have no doubt that in time a thorough rating could be evolved from existing data, even if the planet were to disappear tomorrow.”

  Kirk swung the shuttle into a straightline run through the shadows of the lunar mountain range and locked navigation onto automatic. He wouldn’t need to return to the controls until the final landing descent began. Even then, the onboard computers could complete the flight automatically; it was just that Kirk savored the experience of bringing a craft in under his own control. But for now, he turned around to pay more attention to what Spock was saying.

  “But since Dr. Richter could just as easily reevaluate someone else’s rating assignation from the Richter Institute offices on Mars, it appears that there is indeed a time constraint in operation. And the most logical time constraint is the threat of hostilities on Talin IV.”

  “Just a minute,” Kirk suddenly said. “Remember what Carolyn—Lieutenant Palamas—was saying a few days ago? About how some of the crew were hoping that this might turn into a first contact mission?”

  McCoy grinned. “Yes, I remember Carolyn mentioning that.”

  “Suppose the FCO is also thinking along those lines?”

  “That would be most improper, Captain. According to the Richter rating of Talin IV—”

  “But that’s just it, Spock! That original rating which said that the Talin are still several decades from being contacted by the Federation is apparently under review. For a civilization that is this far along, a change in its Richter rating could open the door to a Federation first contact message.”

  Spock shook his head, unconvinced. “I will admit that I [128] understand why the idea of preventing a world war is appealing, but the technological-threshold boundaries that would allow the Federation to open communication channels to the Talin are stringent and the Talin have not achieved them.”

  “But what if they’re about to, Spock?”

  Spock eyed Kirk thoughtfully. “I take it you mean: What if the Talin are about to exceed the contact thresholds within the immediate future, perhaps over the next few months, instead of over the next few decades?”

  “Exactly.” Kirk’s speech became more rapid as he realized he had found the explanation for Richter’s presence and all the other peculiar conditions surrounding the mission to Talin. “Think of the blackout conditions. It’s completely standard procedures not to use deflectors when entering an uncontacted system in which radio-astronomy technology exists. But how often have we been told to also shut down intrusive sensors and subspace communications other than tightbeam?”

  Spock answered instantly. “Except under battle-ready conditions, never in my tour of duty under Captain Pike or yourself.”

  “And how often have we been ordered not to use transporters within line of sight of an uncontacted planet?”

  Spock took a few moments to think about that. “I am not aware of any ship in Starfleet ever receiving similar orders except, again, under battle-ready conditions.”

  “So what does that tell us?” Kirk asked, already knowing the answer.

  So did McCoy. “That along with the technology to detect ordinary radiation signals in the electromagnetic spectrum, the Talin have the ability to detect subspace signals.”

  “Impossible,” Spock said. “There is absolutely no indication in any of the technological briefs I have read that the Talin have progressed to the point of building transtators, let alone applying the multidimensional mathematics which describe their function. And without transtator technology, the subspace spectrum of energies we use in faster-than-light communications, and sensing, and matter transmission, is unequivocally impossible.”

  [129] For a few seconds, the only sound in the shuttle was the soft hum of the impulse engine running at less than two percent of its rated output. “Impossible or not, Spock, I submit that in light of the unprecedented blackout conditions and Alonzo Richter’s presence, that somewhere on Talin IV right now is a device that is capable of detecting subspace frequencies. It might be the first of its kind. It might be a single crude transtator the size of this shuttle, but it’s down there. It’s the only logical explanation.”

  Spock looked uncomfortable. “It is indeed logical, Captain, but it also remains impossible.”

  “Is there anything worse than a stubborn Vulcan,” McCoy said to the shuttle’s roof.

  “Several things, Doctor, including a physician who—”

  But Kirk held his hand out. “Really, Spock. What other explanation could there be?”

  “I cannot think of one at the moment, but my inability to suggest a second reason in no way implies that no other exists.”

  “But if my conclusion is correct,” Kirk said, “and there is a working transtator-based receiver somewhere down on that planet, then you know what that means, don’t you?”

  Spock nodded his head, admitting the inevitability of Kirk’s argument, if not its accuracy. “If such a device exists, then it is only a matter of days before the Talin will use it to detect stray subspace transmissions which, by their regularity and coding, will be easily identified as components of a vast interstellar communications network.”

  “And ... ?” Kirk prodded.

  Spock’s words were a slight rephrasing of the preamble to the charter of the First Contact Office, as if he did not wish to take personal responsibility for adding more weight to Kirk’s argument. “And, since the Talin will then become aware of the existence of an interstellar community of planets because of the results of their own efforts without extraplanetary interference, then according to the conditions set out in the Prime Directive, the initial first contact technological threshold will have been passed and Starfleet, through the First Contact Office, will be [130] empowered to transmit to the Talin a message of greeting, and so begin an official, open, and nondirective dialogue between that planet and the Federation.”

  Kirk sat back with a look of satisfaction. “And that could all happen within the next few days.”

  Spock’s expression did not change. “As could the Talin’s self-destruction as a race.”

  Before Kirk could respond, the navigation computer sounded the landing-alert chime and Kirk took over the controls of the John Burke.

  The time for talk is past, he thought, and now it’s time to test the two competing theories—Spock’s and mine. Surprisingly, he found that for all he liked the challenge of competition and the thrill of winning, Spock was the only being to whom he never minded losing.

  Thus, as Kirk brought the shuttle down toward the FCO outpost, he knew that he was in a no-lose scenario, since whatever they found out next would bring victory to either Spock or himself. He smiled to himself at the controls. It was a rare and not unwelcome feeling.

  As the landing-pad acquisition signal flashed, Kirk expertly guided the shuttle directly at a jagged outcropping of heavily shadowed lunar rock and, ignoring McCoy’s sudden surprised protest, he flew straight into it.

>   THREE

  “I hate holograms,” McCoy groused as the John Burke settled gently to the landing pad. “They’re getting too damn real. Whatever happened to the days when you could see them flicker from the corner of your eye?”

  Spock stood up in the now motionless shuttle and began to unstow the two carry cases of computer files that he had brought for the FCO’s databanks. The communications blackout made extensive subspace downloading of data impossible. “Dr. McCoy, if the holographic projection of a mountain wall did exhibit a detectable flicker, then it would serve no useful purpose as a camouflage technique to hide the outpost’s presence.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t understand why it was there, Spock. I simply said I don’t like them.” McCoy squeezed pass Spock in the narrow aisle between the shuttle’s two rows of seats to gather together his medical supplies. As standard procedure, he would be making medical checks of as many outpost personnel as time allowed and, because he could not have any required supplies beamed down on demand, he had been forced to bring a broad general assortment and hope for the best.

  Kirk watched through the shuttle’s forward viewports as the [132] Galileo under Sulu’s skilled guidance silently glided through the holographic mountain wall to join the first shuttle on the pad. As soon as the craft had come to rest, Kirk saw two large pressure doors begin to slide together. The outpost’s landing pad chamber was just slightly larger than the Enterprise’s hangar bay.

  Within seconds of the towering metal doors sealing, Kirk heard the whistle of air outside as the chamber was pressurized. At the same time, now that all transmissions would be kept safely within the bounds of the lunar mountain, the communications speaker came to life. “Full atmosphere will be achieved in twenty-two seconds. Stand by.” It was a woman’s voice, not Alonzo Richter’s.

  Kirk stood up and stretched. “Not the most cordial greeting we’ve ever received.”

  McCoy shrugged. “If your guess about what’s going on is right, then I wouldn’t be surprised if all personnel were standing on their heads trying to—” McCoy broke off and stared at Spock. “Don’t say it.”