Star Trek: The Original Series: The Rings of Time

“Perhaps not,” Spock said. “You say that the pulses resembled our phaser blasts?”

“I guess, maybe.” Shaun threw up his hands. “I’m hardly an expert on ‘phasers’ or weird alien energy rays, for that matter.”

“Understood,” Spock said. He sounded reluctant to discard whatever theory he was formulating. “But what you observed did appear to be some manner of directed energy bursts?”

“I suppose.” Shaun found Spock’s interest encouraging. McCoy had said that the Vulcan usually knew what he was doing.

Qat Zaldana seemed hopeful, too. “What are you thinking, Mr. Spock?”

Spock left his chair to join them. “We have speculated that the hexagon is a manifestation of some unknown alien apparatus that serves to maintain the rings as we know them. Perhaps by making crucial adjustments to the planet’s mass or gravity.”

“Like the artificial gravity you generate on this ship?”

“Precisely,” Spock said. “But on a much greater scale. And now that apparatus is failing, resulting in the catastrophic results we are now witnessing. What you observed in the past, however, suggests that the probe was once able to reset the mechanism somehow, via a pulsed signal.”

Shaun saw where Spock was going with this. “You think the probe used those bursts to reboot the hexagon on Saturn, which straightened out the rings?”

“Essentially,” Spock stated. “In which case, it is theoretically possible that we might be able to simulate the signal with our own phasers.”

“I don’t know,” Qat Zaldana said. “That sounds like a long shot to me.”

“Agreed,” Spock said. “But it is the only option remaining to us, outside of abandoning Skagway to its doom.” He looked at Shaun, seeing someone else. “And if there is one thing I have learned from serving under Captain Kirk for nearly five years, it is that long shots are often the difference between success and failure. I know that the captain would not hesitate to make one last effort to save the colony, no matter the odds against us.”

Shaun grinned. “Sounds like a man after my own heart, Mr. Spock.”

“You can feel his heart beating in your chest, Colonel. What does it tell you?”

“Go for it, Spock.” Shaun chuckled. “Heck, it doesn’t sound any crazier than everything else on this ship of yours.” He tried not to look at the alien’s pointed ears. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Spock pondered the problem before them; you could practically see his computer-like mind clicking away. “The challenge will be to replicate precisely the signal you observed more than two centuries ago. Do you recall the exact sequence of the energy pulses? It is no doubt essential that we transmit the signal correctly.”

No doubt, Shaun thought uncertainly. “Maybe. I only saw the pulses for a couple of moments, in the middle of a complicated spacewalk, and as you know, a lot’s happened to me since.” He sank into his seat. “I’m not sure.”

The responsibility weighed on him like gravity after a long space mission. His training had been intended to prepare him for almost every eventuality, but this was a new one. His fingers drummed on the flashing console in front of him. His feet tapped restlessly on the floor. This would be easier, he thought irritably, if I didn’t have this damn drumbeat stuck in my head.

The same beat that he had been hearing ever since he touched the probe…

Shaun froze, then laughed out loud. “Of course! That’s it. It has to be!”

Spock arched an eyebrow. “Is something amusing, Colonel?”

“Just let me at those phasers,” Shaun said confidently. For the first time since he’d found himself in the future, he thought he knew exactly what he was supposed to do. “Trust me, Spock.” He tapped his head. “I’ve got the correct sequence right here.”

Spock took him at his word. “Mr. Sulu, set a course that brings us over the north pole of Klondike VI.”

“But the colony…” the helmsman began.

“Will not long endure unless we pursue a different strategy.”

“Aye, sir,” Sulu acknowledged.

The Enterprise left its current orbit and climbed above the looming gas giant. As before, back at Saturn, Shaun was awestruck by the sheer size and majesty of the ringed planet. The Enterprise was like an aircraft carrier compared with the Lewis & Clark, but both ships were specks next to the gigantic celestial body before them.

“Please accompany me to navigation, Colonel.”

Spock led Christopher over to the two-man station in front of the captain’s chair, where they looked over the shoulder of the young Russian officer. Spock regarded Shaun curiously. “Do you believe you can describe the proper sequence to Ensign Chekov?”

“I’m no band conductor, Mr. Spock. I can feel the rhythm in my blood and bones, but I don’t want to risk it getting garbled in transmission.” He drummed his fingers against the back of Chekov’s chair. “I think it might be better if I operated the controls myself.”

“There is a certain logic to your request,” Spock conceded. He tapped Chekov on the shoulder. “Mr. Chekov, please turn over the conn to Colonel Christopher.”

Chekov gave Shaun a doubtful look that reminded Shaun of a particularly strict aeronautics instructor back at Star City. Wonder if this Chekov is any relation. A distant descendant, perhaps?

Sitting down at the conn, Shaun took a second to marvel at the fact that he was actually seated at the controls of a genuine faster-than-light starship centuries in the future. He felt as if he had suddenly gone from a Model T to a hover car out of an old science-fiction movie.

If only Mission Control could see me now.

“An honor to fly with you, Colonel,” the helmsman said from the seat to the left. He gave Shaun a welcoming smile. “I’ve always been a big fan of you and your fellow astronauts.”

“Thanks.” Shaun was used to signing autographs and greeting space buffs. It was all part of the job. “Lieutenant Sulu, was it?”

“That’s right.” Sulu smoothly worked the helm controls. “Coming up on the north pole.”

The hexagon, or what was left of it, appeared upon the viewer. Shaun was shocked at just how small and pallid it appeared, compared with the enigmatic landmark that Voyager 1 had discovered back on Saturn in 1980. You could barely make it out against the churning purple clouds whipping around the pole. Shaun had to squint to see the honeycomb shape and its bizarrely artificial-looking angles.

“Jesus,” he murmured. “What’s happened to it?”

“That which the probe was intended to avert,” Spock theorized. “And which we now hope to remedy… if it is not already too late.”

Shaun searched his memory, trying to get every detail right. “The probe was pointed straight down at the hexagon.”

“Mr. Sulu,” Spock ordered. “Adjust our orientation appropriately.”

“Aye, sir.”

Shaun experienced a momentary tilting sensation as the Enterprise dipped forward so that it was pointed nose down at the anemic vortex below. He half expected to tumble forward over the console, but then the artificial gravity compensated for the ship’s changed orientation, and he remained flat on his seat. The shriveled white hexagon was dead center on the screen.

Showtime, Shaun thought. I’m on.

He examined the instrument panel in front of him, feeling more than a little intimidated by the multiple lighted switches, buttons, and toggles. Could be worse, he thought. At least, they still used switches in the future and not some weird cybernetic interface or whatever.

“So, where are the firing controls?”

Leaning over Shaun’s shoulder, Chekov pointed out a row of colored switches. “Just press that one… carefully!”

“What about targeting?” Shaun asked.

“I can handle that for you,” Sulu volunteered. A pop-up viewer telescoped upward from his console. He peered into the binocular device and made some adjustments on his own instrument panel. “Done. Phasers are locked on target. All you need to do is pull the trigger, figuratively speaking.”