COOPERATION

Doppelgänger Orbit
USS Enterprise (NCC-1701)
Stardate 2261.24 - Captain's Log

Enterprise is now eight weeks in orbit of the planet Starfleet has officially named Doppelgänger. Mister Spock's theory about "planetary chronological instability" or "rapid aging" seems mostly confirmed. Orbital observations show the Gaza Strip region where we recovered survivors three weeks ago has decayed into ruins, seemingly thousands of years old. The instabilities are also having damaging effects on the planet itself; seismic irregularities continue to escalate, and ambient radiation levels on the planet's surface have increased four hundred percent since our last landing party scouted the Andean Mountain region a week ago.

Aboard the ship, morale is relatively high, though we're still faced with the problem of what to do with those twenty four survivors we brought on board. They seem happy to be out of danger, but they're anxious about their futures. Understandable, I guess. Doctor McCoy has explained the situation to them as best he can, but I imagine this is quite a bit to take in even for the best adjusted of them. Ensign Hallab seems to be coping best of all of them, though I can't say whether this is because of her greater maturity or the welcome distraction of her newfound duties, or maybe both.

The Cardassian Union has responded to our request for assistance on the condition that we coordinate with their space service and share all information we can obtain about this planet and its creators. We're still awaiting the arrival of their flag ship - the Grazine - with the long-range sensor images we commissioned two weeks ago. I've been reviewing the contact reports from the Achilles on Cardassian culture to prepare for the meeting; Captain Balze's impression was that the Cardassians are generally an insecure, suspicious, yet deeply passionate people, not too different from some humans I know. Culturally and technologically they're equivalent to 20th century Earth norms. Hopefully we'll be able get along...

We are definitely not getting along with the Gorn. We have been broadcasting our offer of assistance for twelve days, but the response remains 'stand by.' Lieutenant Uhura has detected a massive subspace distortion from the Gorn vessel that is probably a long range transmission to their home base. Let's hope the response yields good news for us.

- 1240 hours -

The Enterprise's many interlocked compartments constituted a kind of "double hull" within the protective cocoon of the hull plating; strip away the outer hull, and the ship would appear as a vast maze of independent modules and connecting tunnels and turbolift tubes. The turboshafts were probably the most important artery for the ship's functioning, because they also doubled as the spinal supports of high-voltage power conduits, water and oxygen supply lines from the engineering module, and a network of much smaller turboshafts that branched off through the entire ship to recreation sections and crew quarters. The system was designed with such efficiency that someone - Doctor McCoy, for example - could select an item from the food slot's menu in the officer's lounge, then count to ten, and at the end of that time hear the buzzing/hissing sound of a turbocar race under his feet to its final destination in the slot in front of him. Finally the slot doors opened to a tiny transport car containing two small plastic trays which, between the two of them, supported a bowl of grits, half a grapefruit, a plastic cup of grape soda, two deviled eggs, a chicken sandwich and a cup of coffee.

Somehow the replicator system hadn't processed these as separate orders despite arranging them on two different trays. McCoy set them on a table next to the gigantic officer's lounge windows that arced high overhead like a gigantic greenhouse and then got to the complicated puzzle-breaking task of dividing up his order from the Captain's.

Kirk took the sandwich right away, then set the coffee in front of him, but it took two tries and multiple exchanges to figure out how many sugar packets were for the coffee and how many were for McCoy's grits until the doctor grudgingly conceded all of them to Kirk and spooned his grits in the raw. "It's better plain anyway," Kirk said, stirring his coffee triumphantly.

"When I was little my mother used to make it with honey."

"Ew..."

"Try it sometime, it's a good satisfying breakfast. Hell, if those fabricators didn't churn out that sickly abomination the galley section laughably calls 'honey' I'd have that instead."

Kirk nodded in agreement. "It reminds me of sugar-free gelatin."

"It reminds me of modeling glue. Speaking of sweetness," McCoy craned his head towards the hatch, which had half a second ago opened for Commander Spock on his way through it. Kirk turned his head just in time to miss the Vulcan land a parting kiss on the cheek of Lieutenant Uhura before making his own way to the food slot behind them. "Where exactly are those two going?"

"What?"

"Spock and Nyota."

Kirk raised a brow. "Are they going someplace? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about their future, Jim. What are the statistics of human-Vulcan family combinations? That can't be an easy thing to pull off."

"Spock's parents did it well enough."

"Jim..."

"C'mon, Bones, Spock knows what he's doing." He checked and made sure Spock wasn't quite in earshot yet and added, "I just hope he also knows what a lucky bastard he is..." and now that Spock was closing in, tray in hand, "Care to join us, Commander?"

Spock acknowledged with a nod and dropped into a chair between the two. He set down a tray that contained an odd mixture of multi-colored polygons that were either children's building blocks or a salad composed of impeccably diced exotic fruits. Whatever it was it had an oddly soothing sweet and sour aroma to it; McCoy wondered what it would taste like with grits.

Kirk asked immediately, "You seem preoccupied, Spock," and took a bite of his sandwich while he awaited a reply.

"Indeed, Captain. I have been mulling a matter of extreme personal importance since this mission began, and recent events have only exacerbated my dilemma."

"Dilemma?" McCoy asked.

"In what way?" Kirk added, as if he already knew what Spock was thinking but only needed the details.

Spock sighed, "As you might have guessed, I have a great personal stake in discovering the technology that created this planet. I am, after all, a member of a species that has recently been deprived of a homeworld, and such technology may prove essential to the survival of the Vulcan race."

"Yeah, no kidding..."

"This has been on my mind constantly since discovering this planet. However, our findings with the sapient life forms - Miri, for example - have lead me to consider another strange possibility."

Kirk took another bite of his sandwich and waited patiently for Spock to continue.

"The same power that created this planet," Spock said, "that created a duplicate Earth... it is possible, if unlikely, that a duplicate Vulcan may already exist."

McCoy said, "If your theory is correct, this planet may have been created in the first place just to harvest an extinct cetacean species..."

"Quite right, Doctor. But the possibility exists that the force that created this duplicate Earth may have a reason to preserve endangered species from a multitude of worlds, for whatever reason. Since we do not know the method of duplication, I am intrigued by the possibility that Vulcan may also have been so preserved."

Kirk nodded, "It sounds like a ray of hope, Spock."

Spock raised a brow, "Hope is an emotional yearning, Captain, and a completely illogical proposi-"

"Hope," Kirk cut him off, "is the most logical thing in the universe for a people on the brink of extinction."

"Perhaps." Spock dug into his meals with some type of pointed utensil, something that reminded Kirk of a type of miniature Gun. The colored rectangles made deep indistinct crunching noises when Spock bit down.

"What is that, exactly?" McCoy said.

Spock pointed with the barb in his hand, "This is pat'su, kriyat, selit, and tofu."

"Reprocessed vegetable matter from four planets." Kirk shook his head in amazement and sipped his coffee, "You're a braver man than I am."

"Most carbon based life forms have similar protein and amino acid requirements. Probably a matter of chemistry and convergent evolution." Spock took two more consecutive bites, one of a green and another of a yellow rectangle. He chewed, he swallowed, he contemplated for a moment and then added, "I am wondering whether or not we share sufficient cultural commonalities to open communications with the Gorn."

Washing down a mouthful of grits, McCoy asked, "You mean diplomatically or at this particular moment?"

"Both, Doctor, but obviously the more immediate circumstances remain foremost on my mind."

Kirk shrugged, "Sulu thinks they came here on a fishing expedition. But even without knowing that, it's a foregone conclusion that their goals and priorities are different from ours. Remember, the last time we encountered them they were in the middle of conquering an entire planet and would have done the same to New Vulcan if we hadn't stopped them. This planet may look like Earth, but it's not ours to defend. We should give them a wide berth and let them do whatever it is they do."

"That would be my impression too, Sir. However," he frowned slightly, "we learned of the Gorn's motives through a conversation between Sulu and the one called The Runner. It is a safe assumption that the Gorn scout presented a similar report to his superiors on arrival on his ship, in which case the Gorn are now well aware of our reason for being here."

McCoy nodded, "So they know this planet is a duplicate."

"Precisely, Doctor. This fact may have sparked their curiosity, since clearly a force that can create and engineer planets would be as attractive to them as it is to us."

"Of course. You can design a planet that'll support whatever delicacies you want." Kirk smiled, "A kind of planetary-scale agriculture program."

"Indeed."

McCoy asked, "You're thinking we should make contact with them?"

"If their interest in the planet is as strong as ours, a mutual exchange of knowledge would be the most logical arrangement."

"What about security? Whatever we find here is bound to be classified top secret by the Federation Council."

"Yes, but we're already involving the Cardassians," Kirk said, "Besides, according to the Federation Charter, the Council cannot classify information it does not yet have."

"Starfleet can."

"Starfleet hasn't. And I agree with Spock on this one. If the Gorn could be of help to us, it doesn't hurt to ask."

McCoy shrugged, "If you say so. But don't say I didn't warn you... by the way, Jim, I meant to tell you yesterday, this pointy-eared lunatic just approved an enlistment application from one of the Onlies."

Kirk smiled, "One of the children?"

"Ensign Miriam Hallab is sixteen years old," Spock said, "her qualifications include a demonstrated proficiency in problem solving skills, as well as extensive maritime experience. Her physical health and fitness are above average, as are her scores for gross memory retention, visual-spatial reasoning and marksmanship. Counselor Giza has performed a full psychological evaluation and deemed her fit for duty."

"Par for the course," Kirk shrugged, "I don't see the problem."

"The problem, Jim, is that this girl just spent the last few years of her life in the festering ruins of a dead planet. I don't see how she could possibly adjust to life on a starship."

Kirk chuckled, "How did any of us get used to it? That's the whole reason we have shakedown cruises, to help break in the crew. A starship has to get test-flown and certified before it even gets a name."

"I still worry, Jim. This is a big adjustment for her, I don't want to dump too much in her lap before she's ready."

"You're CMO, Bones. The mental health of the crew is your responsibility."

McCoy nodded, "Trust me, I'll keep an eye on her."

"Your concern is admirable, Doctor, but unwarranted," Spock said.

"Really, Spock? You being the expert on human nature..."

"Human history, Doctor. Need I remind you that the force that created this planet also duplicated its inhabitants in painstaking detail. Did it not occur to you that the survivors may themselves be duplicates of real people alive on Earth during the twenty first century?"

McCoy considered that for a moment, then looked at Spock in amazement, "I take it you found the original Miri?"

Spock recited the biographical page from memory, having finally received a response to his inquiries from the United Earth historical archives, "Lieutenant Colonel Miranda Anderson, also known as Miriam Hallab, born in Gaza City on January 31st, 1994. Twice detained by security forces in 2008 and 2010 for collaboration with Hamas, later gained Israeli citizenship under the Jabez Federalist reforms in 2016. She joined the Israeli airforce under an assumed name and later claimed more than forty seven confirmed victories against Pakistani aircraft during the Eugenics Wars. She moved to the United States in 2025, entered astronaut training that same year. Commanded two Jupiter expeditions on DY-500 class vessels, later assigned to Mission Commander of extrasolar mission USS Calypso in 2036, the first manned expedition to successfully probe beyond the Solar system. Personal information is hard to come by, but statements by her peers and her ex-husband described her as a workaholic, a genius, and was described by an older sibling as, quote, 'Too damn stubborn to fail at anything.'"

"I like her already," Kirk chuckled, "Spock's right, Bones. If she is a copy of Miranda Anderson, I'm sure she'll fit in just fine."

- 1920 hours -

"I have your vector, Mister Chekov," Lieutenant Uhura was saying as Kirk arrived on the bridge, "Set coordinates for beacon one eight zero four."

"Beacon one eight zero four, aye. Computing coordinates now..."

Lieutenant Bailey at the helm took thruster control now, "Coming to assigned coordinates," Through the view-screen window, Kirk saw the stars swirling as the ship turned, the disk of the planet below dropping out of sight below the rim of the saucer. Finally the ship stopped, properly oriented in space with its main deflector pointed in the right direction to send a subspace signal to Starfleet Command. As per standing orders, every starship was required to transmit log entries and telemetry data to the nearest sector command base every two to four days, or failing that, to drop a recorder marker on autonomous return trajectory. The catch was, a starship's subspace transceiver only had enough power to transmit over relatively short distances of up to a few dozen light years. Longer range transmissions required the greater power of the ship's main deflector, acting in this case as a kind of electrogravitic megaphone that could blast the ship's digital voice halfway across the galaxy or, in burst transmissions, even to other galaxies.

Chekov had now turned the ship to aim the deflector at a Federation relay satellite near the Vulcan Corridor, which would pick up the message, process it for clarity and destination, then route that message through the communications network until it reached the transceiver array at the Epsilon Hydrae colony where the computers would recognize it as Starfleet traffic and route it to directly to UESPA's Daystrom Institute. Far off in the distance came the low rumble, rising into a mechanical whine as the warp core channeled its full power to the main deflector. Uhura worked her communications console for a few moments, then got the response from the computer and replied, "Transmission complete," at which point the sound from the deflector dish faded out.

Kirk took his seat only now, not wanting to break the flow of activity in the middle of an operation that had cost the Lieutenant forty minutes of her own leisure time. On a mission of this great political importance, Kirk knew it was unwritten protocol to make these transmissions with greater regularity and thoroughness than usual, and the entire communications section had its hands full pulling the many thousands of terabytes of information together. Naturally, transmitting from this deep in a stellar gravity well, it would take slightly under two hours for Starfleet to receive the transmission, and longer still to transmit a response. "Chekov, what's the ETA on our Cardassian friends?"

"Their last signal gave a distance of three hundred and fifty milliparsecs. At their present speed of warp four, they should arrive here within thirty six hours."

Kirk felt satisfied that the wait was nearly over. Enterprise had been loitering in orbit of this planet for nearly two weeks, incessantly probing the surface of a world that stubbornly refused to yield any further secrets to them. Maybe at long last they would get some answers, or at least, they'd have a better understanding of what questions to ask. "What should we expect from that ship, Mister Bailey?"

"The Grazine is a deep space exploration cruiser, basically the Cardassian's equivalent of the Enterprise. Its equipment is unsophisticated but versatile. They don't have a lot of experience, but their space service is highly disciplined and well trained."

"Tactical capabilities?"

"As far as I know, their main offensive weapons are projectile weapons and fission devices. No shields, no deflectors, just missile-based point defense and some sophisticated jamming devices. Also, Cardassian ships are powered by fusion reactors so they have a very limited fuel capacity, especially at high warp."

Kirk grinned. "Chekov, punch up Constellation's survey report for the rest of this system..."

"Scans show two gas giants in the Jupiter-Saturn range and one in close orbit of the central star," Chekov reported immediately, having already pulled up that report in anticipation of the request, "the inner planet has a plentiful supply of deuterium and tritium in its upper atmosphere that could be extracted for fuel processing."

The turbolift doors snapped open and Kirk noted Spock's arrival, palmcomp in one hand, tricorder in the other. He knew without having to ask that the Vulcan had just completed another up-close survey of the reaver specimens they brought aboard the Enterprise from Gaza; he also knew from the Vulcan's body language that this session had been as fruitless as all the others. Even so, "Any news from our house guests?"

Spock shook his head, "Both reaver specimens remain uncommunicative and insufferably hostile. I might be tempted to offer them my pity, if they were capable of understanding the concept."

Turning back to Uhura Kirk asked, "Any reply from the Gorn, Lieutenant?"

"None sir, not even a response to stand by."

"Have they received an answer from their home world yet?"

"I don't know, but there's been no anomalous subspace traffic so I doubt it."

"Keptin," Chekov started to boil in his chair again, overly excited as usual whenever anything happened on the Gorn ship, "Picking up another landing craft departing from the alien wessel. Entering low orbit approach, descending towards the planet."

Kirk chewed his thumbnail for a moment, slightly worried, but mostly curious. "Spock, how are the Gorn selecting their landing sites? They've dropped a dozen teleporters in the past few days..."

"Nothing more substantial than previous analysis. Their away teams seem to be focussed on coastal areas and jungle terrain where large insects and invertebrates can be found in abundance. They have very rarely deviated from this pattern, but it must also be remembered that short-range teleport relays can allow Gorn away teams to transport from the landing platform to remote locations with relative ease. We may simply not be aware of all of their surface activities."

Kirk nodded, "Makes sense... so where's this one headed?"

Chekov punched in the numbers and displayed a graphic on the main viewer, "Southern England, Keptin."

Spock raised a brow, "Curious... apart from harvesting of invertebrate life forms, the Gorn's only interest in this planet has been a catalog of its space launch facilities and industrial sectors. There is very little in their destination zone consistent with this pattern."

"How long until that capsule lands?"

"At present course, it should make planetfall in one hour and fifteen minutes."

Kirk almost jumped out of his chair on his way to the turbolift, barking as he went, "Spock, we're beaming down. Uhura, have Doctor McCoy and a security escort meet us in transporter room one..." and then it suddenly occurred to him, "And have Miri join us as well. At the moment she's our resident expert on this planet."