“That,” Kirk said, “is already a lot more than my instructor seemed to know about them.”
“A lot has been discovered since then. I had to have a refresher course from Mr. Spock mysel’, believe me. But it’s aye important. Suppose we were to redesign the transporter so that, instead of scannin’ a man an’ replicatin’ him at destination in his normal state, it replicated him in tachyons, at this end of the process? That would solve the moral problem, because the original subject wouldna go anywhere — while the tachyon creature, which canna exist in the everyday universe with us, would go on to destination and revert to normal there. No murder, if such be in fact the problem, ever occurs.”
“Hmm. It seems to me…”
“Wait, Captain, there’s more. The method vastly extends the range of the transporter. I canna tell you exactly how far, but our present sixteen-thousand-mile limit would be the flight of a gnat by comparison.
“Result? We send a man to Organia from here. He gathers the data we need; when he returns to the ship, we hold him in the tachyon state for as long as is needed to yield up the material. Then we let the field go, and poof! The replica becomes so much tachyon plasma in another universe, and our original has never even left the ship!”
“Obviously,” Kirk said slowly, “you wouldn’t be bringing this to me if you weren’t sure you had the mechanics solved.”
“That’s the fact, Captain, and it’s aye proud of oursel’ we are, too,” Scott said. “Geniuses we are, an’ you may gi’e us medals at your convenience. But seriously, it will work, an’ we can do it. To modify the machine itself is the work of a week — an’ we needn’t travel another inch closer to the Klingon Empire than we are by then.”
“We’ll go on traveling anyhow,” Kirk said. “I like to have choices open.”
“To be sure — my hyperbole was showin’.”
Kirk clicked on the intercom. “Kirk here. Mr. Spock, place the ship on full automatic control. All department heads to the briefing room at zero point seven this day. Kirk out.” The intercom went off. “Mr. Scott, proceed with your alterations of the transporter — making sure in the process that they’re not permanent.”
“Vurra good,” Scott said, getting up. Kirk raised his hand.
“But,” he added, “if I were you, I wouldn’t tell Dr. McCoy that I’d solved his moral problem.”
“No?”
“No. You see, Scotty, he’s likely to ask you if the tachyon replicate has an immortal soul — and somehow I don’t think you’d be in a position to answer.”
Chapter Three — THE TANK TRAP
From the Captain’s Log, Star Date 4018.4:
Upon assurance from Mr. Scott that there was no bodily danger inherent in his transporter modification, Mr. Spock was chosen as the logical emissary to Organia. He was on the planet during the entire affair which led to the treaty (see Log entry Star Date 3199.4), and personally knows Ayelborne, Claymare and Trefayne — or at least knows the humanoid shapes they assume, as his is known to them. The only other person thus qualified is myself. In addition, Mr. Spock is probably the closest observer of us all.
There was a number of transporter rooms in various parts of the Enterprise, but it was the main one that Scott modified, for the obvious reason: power. Of all the modifications, only one was immediately visible, although Kirk was in no doubt that there were other changes on the free-standing console of which the Transporter Officer and his technician were aware. The circular platform of the transporter chamber itself had been enclosed in gleaming metal, so that its six positions could no longer be seen — only the steps leading up to them.
“The shielding unfortunately is necessary,” the engineering officer explained to Kirk and Spock. “As long as the field is on, the whole interior of the chamber is effectively in another universe — or more exactly, in a kind of continuum in which a transfinite number and variety of universes are possible — and the effect has to be confined. I could just as well have used wire mesh — for instance, shuttlecraft landing-pad web — so we could see in, but I had the armor plate to hand from another job and I was in a hurry, as I assume we all are.”
Scott’s burr vanished completely when he was trying to be as precise as possible. Kirk was thoroughly used to this, but nevertheless it seldom failed to make him smile.
“That’ll do for now, Scotty. We can add frills later. In fact, if this works as you’ve predicted, engineers all over the galaxy will be thinking up refinements for it. For now, what exactly is the program?”
“Pretty much as it always is, Captain, except for the distance involved. We set up the coordinates on the console — by the way, Mr. Spock, what are they?”
“Eleven eight seventy d. y. by eighty-five seventy-four sixty-eight K.”
The Transporter Officer looked astonished — evidently Scott had not yet filled him in on “the distance involved” — but made no comment. Scott went on.
“Then Mr. Spock steps into the tank, and stands on any station; we close the door and activate the machine. He won’t notice a thing, for though he’ll be momentarily surrounded by n-dimensional space, he’s only equipped to perceive four at a time, like the rest of us. But he won’t disappear — he’ll just step out of the tank again. In the meantime, his replicate will be on its way to Organia, and will be returned here automatically, one day after materialization, no matter when that takes place. If that’s not a long enough stay, we’ll send him back. When the replicate arrives here, we’ll again have established Hilbert space in the tank, and will maintain it for as long as it takes the replica to report.”
“Clear enough for now,” Kirk said. “Mr. Spock, are you ready?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Into the tank with you then,” Scott said.
Spock entered, and the door closed behind him. The transporter officer manipulated the controls. As Scott had predicted, there was nothing to be seen, nor did the familiar muted whine of the transporter field seem changed in any way. Kirk tried to imagine what an n-dimensional space would be like, and was not surprised to fail.
“That’s all there is to it,” Scott said. “He can come out now.”
Spock, however, failed to appear. Kirk said, “We seem to have forgotten to arrange any way to let him know that. I assume it’s safe to open the door now?”
“Entirely, Captain.”
Kirk went to the platform and slid the door back. “Mr. Spock…”
Then he stopped. Spock was there, all right, and apparently quite unharmed. In fact, he was one hundred per cent too much there.
There were two identical Spocks in the tank.
The two Spocks were eyeing each other with a mixture of wariness and disdain, like a man trying to fathom the operation of a trick mirror. Kirk was sure that his own expression was a good deal less judicious.
“Which of you,” he demanded, “is the original?”
“I am, Captain,” both Spocks said, in chorus.
“I was afraid you’d say that. Well, let’s get one problem settled right now. Hereafter, I will address you,” he pointed to the man on his left, “as Spock One, and you,” he pointed to his right, “as Spock Two. This implies no decision on my part as to which of you is in fact the original. Scotty, obviously you didn’t anticipate any such outcome.”
“Nay, I dinna,” Scott said. “‘Tis a pity we couldna see into the tank now, since otherwise we’d know which was which by the station he’s on.”
“Can you determine that?” Kirk asked the transporter officer.
“No, sorry, sir, I can’t. Under this new setup, all the stations were activated at once.”
“And Scotty, equally obviously neither of them can be tachyon constructs.”
“Thot’s aye eempossible,” Scott agreed unhappily.
“Then the next task is to figure out how and why this happened, and if possible, discover some way to distinguish between the original and the replicate. With two Spocks on this ship, I must say, there ought to be no logical problem we can’t lick.”
