Worlds in Collision Page 20

  “The only ships matching orbit with Prime right now are Starfleet vessels, Mira,” McCoy said. “It’s a cinch Spock doesn’t want to land back on one of them.”

  The maintenance telltales by the egress hatches on module eighteen showed that nothing had been opened since the last scheduled inspection. Nensi walked ahead to the blast doors leading back to the main recycling factory dome to make sure troopers weren’t in the corridors. He and Romaine were allowed to walk freely throughout the installation, but McCoy and Uhura were still being sought after.

  “In other words,” Romaine said, following behind Nensi with the others, “if Spock was going to use one of these shuttles to escape in, he’d have to be planning on a rendezvous with something other than a Starfleet vessel.”

  “That gives us two choices,” McCoy said. “Either Spock is planning to do that very thing, in which case he’s guilty, or he never intended to make it to these shuttles at all.”

  Nensi stood just beyond the open blast doors, looked down both directions in the corridor, then waved everyone through.

  “As I said,” Romaine reminded the doctor, “I won’t pretend to match logic with a Vulcan. Is it worth checking out the rest of the modules?”

  McCoy looked to Uhura. She shook her head.

  “I agree. Waste of time,” McCoy said.

  “Then where else can we search?” Nensi asked. “If Mr. Spock’s not trying to escape from Prime, then why did he escape from the Enterprise? Where did he want to go?”

  “To Memory Prime,” Uhura said. “Not as a transfer point but as a final destination.”

  “But why?” McCoy said, as much to himself as to anyone there. “What’s that pointy-eared—”

  “He’s figured it out!” Uhura said excitedly.

  “Figured what out?” McCoy asked.

  Uhura shrugged as if the details weren’t important. “Whatever it is that Starfleet is so afraid will happen.”

  “Assassination of the scientists,” Romaine said.

  “Exactly,” Uhura said. “Mr. Spock must have figured out something important, like who the victim is supposed to be, or who the real killer is.”

  “And since he’s a suspect and Commodore Wolfe wouldn’t listen to him,” McCoy expanded, “he had no choice but to come down and catch the assassin himself!”

  “I’m sure that’s all well and good for your Mr. Spock,” Nensi said. “But where does that leave us? Where do we look for him?”

  “The scientists’ quarters,” McCoy said.

  “If he wants to prevent the murder or murders,” Nensi agreed. “But what if he decides to go after the assassin first?”

  “The assassin will go after the scientists,” McCoy said. “If Spock knows who the victim is supposed to be, then he simply has to go to the victim and wait for the assassin to show up. Either way, he’ll be going to the scientists’ quarters.” The doctor looked around and read agreement from everyone. “Settled,” he proclaimed.

  “Okay,” Nensi said. “But if we’re going to have to get all the way back to the residential domes, we better split up. Mira and I can go along the main passages and get there in thirty minutes or so. You and Lieutenant Uhura are going to have to go back the way we all came, taking the long way round through the service tunnels to bypass the troops.” He frowned apologetically. “Shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

  “We won’t be able to do any good at all if Wolfe gets hold of us again,” McCoy said.

  Romaine made sure that McCoy and Uhura remembered which tunnels to take back to the residential domes and escorted them to their first turnoff.

  “One of us will meet you in the main swimming pool equipment room,” Romaine told them. “I’ll get extra VIP passes so we can get past the security gates into the scientists’ compound.”

  “If we’re late,” McCoy pointed out, “we’re going to need passes to get into the ceremonies.”

  “That, unfortunately, is impossible,” Nensi said. “The nominees have their own conference area. The only way in or out is by matching accreditation documents with retina scans and sensor readings. It’s as bad as trying to get into the main Interface Chamber.”

  “Well,” McCoy conceded, “at least that means the assassin won’t be able to get in after them once the voting caucuses begin.”

  “But it does give us a time limit, Doctor,” Uhura added. “If no one can get at the scientists once the opening ceremonies are over and the voting begins, that means the assassin will have to strike within the next four hours.”

  Twenty

  “This is just so…so invigorating!” Professor La’kara said as he hopped after the associate who led him into the reading lounge. Kirk glanced at Scott and saw the engineer grimace at the sound of La’kara’s voice. Scott was convinced the man was a fraud, which is why Kirk had decided to contact him first. Perhaps he was the assassin who had hired the robots. Anyone who would adopt such a flamboyant guise could be counted on having an up-to-the-minute implant making him conversant with the latest breakthroughs in multiphysics or whatever other science best fit his cover. The fact that La’kara steadfastly pursued his own unique paths of scientific endeavor, attracting considerable attention as he did so, ruled him out as a suspect as far as Kirk was concerned.

  “We have to start somewhere,” Kirk reminded Scott as La’kara, blinking his eyes as if to bring the reading lounge into focus, recognized the captain and Scott with a face-splitting grin.

  “Gentlemen! Gentlemen!” the diminutive Centauran exclaimed as he rushed to them, white scarf flapping around his neck and heavy black carry case banging against his leg. The associate that had obediently complied with Kirk’s request and escorted the professor to the lounge barely zipped out of the way in time to avoid tripping La’kara.

  Kirk smiled in what he hoped would be an equally friendly greeting and went to shake the professor’s hand. At this hour of Memory Prime’s morning, the reading lounge was deserted. Scientists and researchers would be hard at it at the round-the-clock work stations, but the recreation areas were typically abandoned during third cycle. Or so Kirk’s associate had said when Kirk had requested suggestions for a suitable venue for a confidential meeting.

  La’kara placed his case down on the floor beside him and pushed his foot against it as if to make sure he would be able to tell it was still there, even when he wasn’t looking at it. “Captain, Captain, so good to meet you again. I was afraid I should never have a chance to thank you for such an exciting voyage.”

  Exciting? Kirk thought. The man had almost been killed in the Cochrane flux escape.

  La’kara’s bubbling enthusiasm diminished for a moment as he turned to take Scott’s hand. “Montgomery,” he said solemnly.

  “Professor,” Scott replied, shaking La’kara’s hand once.

  “No hard feelings, I trust?” La’kara inquired. “After all, it was an act of sabotage that removed the shielding from my accelerator field, not”—he lowered his voice as if he were about to repeat an obscenity—“a design flaw.”

  “Aye, Professor,” Scott said diplomatically. “It was sabotage.”

  “That’s why we wanted to talk with you, Professor,” Kirk said. “Have a seat.”

  They walked over to a cluster of pale green lounge chairs near a row of study carrels where library screens waited patiently with blank displays. La’kara dragged his case along with him while the associate that had escorted him stayed in place. Obviously the module had no other duties this early, Kirk thought.

  After they were settled in the chairs, Scott pointed to the professor’s case. “What’s in that, Professor?”

  La’kara patted the case as if it were a pet. “My accelerator device, of course. After what happened on the Enterprise, I keep it with me always, except when I have to—”

  “What we’d like to find out,” Kirk interrupted, “was who committed the act of sabotage.”

  La’kara leaned forward, his animated face immediately taking on an expression of
grave concern. “Why, it was that—that Spock fellow, was it not?”

  “What makes you say that?” Kirk asked, also leaning forward to establish a sense of intimacy with the man.

  “Well, well,” La’kara began, then looked around to make sure no one else was in the lounge. “Mr. Spock is one of…well, you know, one of…those, isn’t he?”

  Kirk sat back with a sigh. Wonderful, he thought, a bigot. He was surprised that a scientist of La’kara’s stature would cling to such a primitive mode of thought. Usually such individuals never made it off their home planet.

  “What do you mean, one of ‘those,’ Professor?” Kirk said sternly. “You mean Spock is guilty because he’s a Vulcan?”

  “Well, of course he’s a Vulcan, Captain!” La’kara exploded. “And I find it shocking that a man in your position would stoop to think that just because someone has a two-percent-greater field of hearing than you or I, it somehow predis-poses them to…criminal acts!” He flipped his scarf at the captain. “I mean, really, in this day and age.”

  Kirk fought to keep his mouth from dropping open. “I was drawing no such conclusion, Professor. It was you who said Spock was one of ‘those.’ ” Kirk looked exasperated as he tried to frame a question that would make sense. “What’s a ‘those,’ Professor?”

  La’kara leaned forward again and adopted a conspiratorial tone. “I talked with Mr. Spock when I came on board, you know. I know he studied multiphysics under Dr. Nedlund at the Starfleet Academy.” La’kara nodded his head and sat back as if he had offered a clear explanation.

  “So…?” Kirk prompted.

  “So, dear captain,” La’kara said in annoyance, eyebrows fluttering, “Dr. Nedlund, I’ll have you know, is a complete ass. Can’t trust him. Can’t trust any of his students.” He shook a finger at Kirk and Scott. “And your Mr. Spock was one of Nedlund’s students.”

  Kirk shook his head. “That’s why you think Spock is guilty of trying to blow up the Enterprise?” he said, trying to sound polite but knowing he didn’t.

  La’kara just tightened his lips as if he had said all that was required to prove his point.

  “I studied multiphysics under Nedlund, too, Professor,” Scott foolishly offered.

  La’kara sucked in his breath and flicked his scarf again. “Well, Captain, it appears you have a new suspect!” He glared at Scott.

  “Professor La’kara!” Scott cried.

  “Mr. Scott!” La’kara mimicked.

  “Gentlemen!” Kirk interrupted, waving his hands in defeat. “We’re not talking about multiphysics or who went to school where and did what. We’re trying to find out who sabotaged the accelerator-field generator.” Before La’kara could open his mouth, Kirk added, “And it wasn’t Spock! He was in custody and has no motive.”

  Kirk looked from La’kara to Scott as they kept silent. “Very good. Now who else had the opportunity and the motive?” he asked. “Professor, have you any enemies?”

  “I’m a brilliant scientist, Captain. I have hundreds. Perhaps even thousands.”

  Kirk felt close to groaning. “Enemies that would want to kill you, Professor?”

  La’kara thought that over for a moment, then shook his head.

  “Fine,” Kirk said, glad to be over it. “Now, was there anyone else among the scientists in your group on the Enterprise that acted suspicious? Didn’t take part in scientific conversations? Behaved in any way peculiar?”

  “When you come right down to it,” La’kara said stiffly, “we’re all a little peculiar, aren’t we?”

  “Why don’t we go down the list?” Scott suggested. “Perhaps a name will jog your memory.”

  Behind them, a deep voice said, “A most logical strategy, Mr. Scott.”

  Kirk and Scott jumped up as they turned to see who had spoken.

  A young Vulcan stood by the lounge entrance. He wore a traditional black civilian suit with short cape held in place by a silver IDIC medallion. His face was thin and, like most Vulcans, intense. He wore his long, dark brown hair pulled back and tied so it hugged his head like a skintight cap. His hands were on his hips and, as far as Kirk could see, he was unarmed.

  “Dr. Stlur,” Kirk said, recognizing one half of the team that had brought miniature transporter effects into the operating room. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Of course not,” Stlur stated as he walked toward the lounge chairs, pausing once to let the associate roll out of his way. “I did not wish you to hear me.”

  “Why is that?” Kirk asked warily as the young Vulcan stopped within arm’s reach of the captain.

  “Think it through, Captain Kirk,” the Vulcan said with more than a hint of arrogance. “The near disaster on your vessel was widely believed to have been an assassination attempt on Professor La’kara’s life. Therefore, when I witnessed an associate come to invite the professor to a ‘private’ meeting at a time when few workers are about, was it not logical to assume that perhaps another attempt might be planned?”

  “Of course,” Kirk agreed. “And you followed the professor to make sure he was safe.”

  Stlur nodded in agreement.

  “Or to kill him when he was away from potential witnesses!” Kirk confronted the Vulcan.

  Stlur’s expression did not change. “If that were the case, Captain Kirk, then surely I would have killed him as he approached the lounge or, indeed, kill him here along with you and Mr. Scott.” The Vulcan paused as if to let Kirk know that this was still a possibility. “You are fugitives from Starfleet authorities, after all,” he added. “Your pictures, along with those of Dr. McCoy and Lieutenant Uhura, have been presented on all news and entertainment circuits.”

  Kirk studied the Vulcan’s eyes, but could learn nothing.

  “Will you report us?” he finally asked.

  “I have not yet made that decision,” Stlur said. “I require more information.”

  “That’s what we were trying to come up with,” Kirk said, motioning to the chairs as an invitation.

  “And that is why I made my presence known,” Stlur said. “It appears you could use some assistance.”

  Over the next ten minutes, Kirk quickly outlined the events and discoveries that had led him and Scott to believe that the assassin or assassins Starfleet was hunting were, in reality, robots manufactured to appear as Vulcans or their offshoot race, Romulans.

  “So,” Stlur said after patiently listening to what Kirk realized would be perceived as the torturous logic of humans, “as Starfleet suspects Spock because of his unorthodox background, you in turn wish to suspect the Vulcans who traveled on your vessel. That is myself, my associate, T’Vann, and Academician Sradek. You do not wish to concede the point that the assassin, if he or she exists, might have arrived at Memory Prime on another vessel.”

  “If there is more than one assassin, then of course that’s a possibility,” Kirk said. “But if there is only one, then no. Someone on board the Enterprise attacked the two guards outside Spock’s quarters and shut down La’kara’s accelerator-field shielding in an attempt to destroy the warp engines. It has to be someone who was on board.”

  For the first time, Kirk saw a change of expression cross Stlur’s face, and he suspected that the Vulcan had, in this instance, accepted Kirk’s merely human reasoning.

  “All I can say is that I shall make myself available for testing at your convenience, Captain. A standard first-aid medical scanner should be sensitive enough to detect that I am, indeed, a living being. I can also attest to the living nature of my associate, Dr. T’Vann.”

  “How about Academician Sradek?” Scott asked.

  “Mr. Scott,” Stlur began, “I am willing to admit that a robot such as the one you and your captain described would probably escape my detection for a brief period if I did not know to look for it. However, I have now shared meals and conversation with the academician for five standard days. I have been exposed to his scent, his voice overtones, and once, when he stumbled, I touched him. No robot could
be touched by a Vulcan and not be instantly revealed as such. Sradek is as much a living creature as am I.”

  Stlur serenely regarded the captain. “I suggest you look elsewhere for your assassin.”

  Kirk nodded. “You’re right. Sradek came to my cabin to ask permission to meet with Spock.”

  “Aye,” Scott said. “He even asked me when he could be expected to be allowed to pay a visit to his old student. And Doctors Stlur and T’Vann were on the tour when the flux was released.”

  “So all the suspects have alibis,” Kirk said in resignation, “except for Spock.”

  “Captain,” Stlur said after a moment, “I do not wish to offer any disrespect, but knowing what I do about humans, is it not possible that upon your ship, with so many crew members, perhaps one of them was somehow replaced by a robot. Without telepathy or normal—I beg your pardon—Vulcan senses, it is likely that such a robot could escape detection for a number of days. Perhaps your suspect might best be searched for among those who are currently above suspicion.”

  “We’ve been fooled by lifelike robots before, Stlur, so I know what you suggest is possible,” Kirk said.

  “Is the theory worth relaying to Commodore Wolfe?” Stlur asked.

  “If she would listen to me,” Kirk said, though he was sure she wouldn’t.

  “Perhaps I could speak with the commodore,” Stlur suggested.

  “Why would she listen to you?” Kirk asked.

  “I will tell her that I have spoken with you. She will then want to interrogate me to learn your whereabouts. There is also a sixty-percent chance that she will think I am part of your conspiracy and will once again want to interrogate me. Either way, she will listen to me.” Stlur folded his hands in his lap and waited patiently for the captain’s response. It didn’t take long.

  “Very well, Doctor,” Kirk said. “You go talk to Wolfe, but the first thing you have to convince her to do is to call off the hunt for Spock. Or at least have her order her troops to set their weapons to stun.”

  “What are they set at now?” Stlur asked, eyebrow raised in a Vulcan expression that had more meanings than Kirk could keep up with.