Джеймс Блиш - Spock Must Die

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.”

“Unless,” Spock One said, “we think exactly alike, in which case the replicate is simply a superfluity.”

“Quite obviously you don’t think exactly alike,” Kirk said, “or both of you would have offered that remark simultaneously and in the same words.”

“True but not relevant, Captain, if I may so observe,” said Spock Two. “Even if we thought exactly alike at the moment of creation of the replicate, from then on our experiences differ slightly — beginning, of course, with the simple difference that we occupy different positions in space-time. This will create a divergence in our thinking which will inevitably widen as time goes on.”

“The difference, however, may remain trivial for some significant time to come,” said Spock One.

“We are already disagreeing, are we not?” Spock Two said coldly. “That is already a nontrivial difference.”

“That’s enough cross talk, both of you,” Kirk said. “You certainly both sound like the real Spock, as well as look like him, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re creating twice the confusion he did on his worst logic jags. Spock One, go to your quarters and remain there until I call you. Spock Two, come with me to my quarters.”

Neither man spoke further until turboelevator and corridors brought them to Kirk’s workroom, where Kirk waved the problematical second First Officer to the chair before his desk.

“Now then,” the Captain said. “first of all, did you in fact get to Organia for even a fraction of a second? And if so, did you see anything useful?”

“No, Captain. Nothing happened except that suddenly there were two Spocks in the chamber. And I can tell you positively that there is no hiatus in my memory at that point.”

“I’m sorry to hear it — not only because we need the information badly, but because it might have provided a clue for telling the two of you apart. You still maintain that you are the original Spock, I suppose?”

“I do,” Spock Two said, in the tone he generally reserved for reporting an established fact of nature.

“Well, you see what the situation is as well as I do. While I suppose I could learn to live with two Mr. Spocks aboard — I might even come to like it — the ship cannot tolerate two first officers. Which of you do I demote, and to what post, and on what grounds?”

Spock Two raised his eyebrows. “May I suggest, Captain, that the situation is far more serious than that? To take a relatively minor aspect of it first, perhaps you can learn to live with two Spocks, but it would be somewhat painful for me. If you will imagine what it would be like for you to have a second James T. Kirk abroad in the universe, you will readily understand why.”

“Hmm. Yes — personally it would be highly unpleasant. Your pardon, Mr. Spock. I just hadn’t had enough time to ponder that aspect of it.”

“I quite understand. But there is a second derivative. It would be positively dangerous to the ship. I am not speaking now of the confusion which it would produce, though that would be bad enough in itself, but of the effect upon the efficiency of the first officer. While I shall learn to endure the situation if you so order — even should I wind up as a yeoman — whichever of us remains first officer would be operating under continual personal stress about which he could do nothing at all. Suppose, for instance, it occurs to him that the demoted Spock is conspiring to replace him? Or consider, Captain, the position in which you would find yourself, should the demoted Spock suddenly charge that he is one you retained as first officer, and that the other man has slipped into his place unobserved? Such an exchange, or a series of them, might well evolve simply from a sense of duty on the part of each man.”

Kirk whistled. “Now that would demoralize everybody, including me, even under peacetime conditions. You’re right, I don’t see how we dare risk it. But what would you suggest we do instead?”

“You have no choice, Captain. You must destroy one of us.”

Kirk stared at him for a long minute. At last he said, “Even if it turns out to be you?”

“Even,” Spock Two said levelly, “if it is I.”

There was an even longer silence, while Kirk thought about the emotional consequences to himself of such a course. It did not make pleasant thinking. But what were the alternatives? The case Spock Two had offered seemed airtight.

“I may in fact do that,” Kirk said finally. “But only if we can work out some foolproof way of determining which of you is the original. In the meantime, please, go directly to the bridge, remain there for ten minutes precisely, and then retire to your quarters until further notice.”

His expression shuttered, Spock Two nodded once and left. The moment the door closed behind him, Kirk opened the intercom and called Spock’s quarters. “Kirk calling Mr. Spock One.”

“Here, Captain.”

“Please report directly to my quarters at once.”

When Spock One entered, Kirk realized with a shock just how grave the identity problem actually was. Had Spock Two, after closing the door, simply walked down the corridor until he was out of sight from Kirk’s quarters, then turned around and come back at a leisurely pace and announced himself as Spock One, there would have been no immediate way for Kirk to have known that it had happened. And, now that Kirk came to think of it…

“Sit down, Mr. Spock. Kirk to the bridge!”

“Uhura here, Captain.”

“Is Mr. Spock there?”

Spock One raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

“No, Captain, it’s not his watch. As a matter of fact he did drop in for about five minutes, but he just left. You might try his quarters — or shall I page him for you?”

“No thanks, Lieutenant, nothing urgent. Kirk out.”

One minor crisis averted — or had it been? He had told Spock Two to stay on the bridge for ten minutes, but Uhura said he had left after five. No, that probably meant nothing; people who are busy seldom notice how long spectators are around, and almost never know, or care, how long ago they left. Scratch that — but there would be hundreds of other such cruxes. Uhura, for instance, like almost all the rest of the crew, did not even know yet what had happened in the Transporter room.