The Entropy Effect

Spock slowly rose to his feet, unable to believe what had happened. For weeks the Enterprise had withstood the chaotic twists and turns of spatial dimension: now, so close to the end of his observations, the whole second series of measurements was destroyed. He needed the replication, for all alternate possibilities had to be ruled out. The ramifications of what he had discovered were tremendous.

If his preliminary conclusions were correct, the expected life of the universe was not thousands of millions of years.

It was, for all practical purposes, less than a century.

The Enterprise sped through interstellar space at a warp factor that badly strained the already overworked engines.

At least Mr. Sulu got us out of there with his usual precision, Jim Kirk thought, sitting at his place on the bridge trying to appear calmer than he felt. He had never responded to an ultimate override before.

The door of the turbo lift slid open, and, for the first time in weeks, Mr. Spock came onto the bridge. He had hardly left the observatory since they first reached the singularity. The Vulcan science officer descended to the lower level, stopped beside Kirk, and simply gazed at him, impassively.

“Mr. Spock ...” Kirk said, “I received an ultimate override command. I know you haven’t finished

your work, but the Enterprise had to respond. I have no choice, with an ultimate. I’m very sorry, Mr. Spock.”

“An ultimate override command ...” Spock said. His expression did not change, but Kirk thought he looked rather haggard. All things considered, that was not too surprising.

“Can you salvage anything from your data? Could you reach any conclusion about the singularity at all?”

Spock gazed at the viewscreen. Far ahead, indistinguishable as yet against the brilliant starfield, an ordinary yellow type G star hung waiting for them. Behind them, the singularity lay within its fierce glow.

“The preliminary conclusions were interesting,” Spock said. He clasped his hands behind his back. “However, without the completed replication, the data are all essentially worthless.”

Kirk muttered a curse, and said again, lamely, “I’m sorry.”

“I can see no way in which you are responsible, Captain, nor any logical reason for you to apologize.” Kirk sighed. As always, Spock refused to react to adversity.

It would be a relief ifjust once he’d put his fist through a bulkhead, Jim Kirk thought. If this doesn’t turn out to be extremely serious, I may find something to punch, myself.

“Are you all right, Mr. Spock?” he asked. “You look exhausted.”

“I am all right, Captain.”

“You could go get some rest—it’ll be quite a while before we get close enough to Aleph for me to call general quarters. Why don’t you take a nap?”

“Impossible, Captain.”

“The bridge really can get along without you for a few more hours.”

“I realize that, sir. However, when I began my experiment I psychophysiologically altered my metabolism to permit me to remain alert during the course of my observations. I could return my circadian rhythm to normal now, but it does not seem sensible, to me, to prepare myself for rest when my presence may be required when we reach our destination.”

Kirk sorted through the technicalities of his science officer’s statement.

“Spock,” he said, “you aren’t saying you haven’t had any sleep in six weeks, are you?”

“No, Captain.”

“Good,” Kirk said, relieved; and, after a pause, “Then what are you saying?”

“It will not be six standard weeks until day after tomorrow.”

“Good lord! Didn’t you trust anyone else to make the observations?”

“It was not a matter of trust, Captain. The data are sensitive. The difference between two individuals’ interpretations of the same datum would cause a break in the observational curve larger than the experimental error.”

“You couldn’t have run several series and averaged them?”

Spock raised one eyebrow. “No, Captain.” If I didn’t know better, Kirk thought, I’d swear he turned a couple of shades paler.

Captain’s log, Stardate 5001.1:

We are now a day away from the singularity, but the unease that gripped the Enterprise and my crew throughout our mission there has not faded. It has intensified. We have left one mystery behind us, unsolved, in order to confront a second mystery, about which we know even less. The ultimate override emergency command takes precedence over any other order. The Enterprise is now under way to the mining colony Aleph Prime, maintaining radio silence as the code requires. I cannot even ask why we have been diverted; I can only speculate about the reasons for such urgency, and be sure my crew is prepared to face .. . what?