Strike Force

S T R I K E - FORCE

(co-writer Gillian Fry)

It had been a long day.

Spock was relieved to be off-duty at last, for the Nomad incident had been trying and he was looking forward to a relaxing period of meditation. Kirk's strange words on the Bridge returned to amuse him; the nonsensical statements about being the machine's 'mother' had been accompanied by overly dramatic gestures and facial expressions to which Spock - only now in the privacy of his own quarters - allowed himself a small smile. He often puzzled over his Captain's behaviour. Why did his friend tease him, disregarding the fact that a Vulcan could not respond? Why did Kirk take delight in attempting to shake him? Was it because the perceptive Human knew he could rock a Vulcan's calm?

This time, Spock had barely managed to retaliate with a show of lofty Vulcan disapproval. It had been close... too close! He would have to work more diligently at his controls. Yet, Jim's teasing was never malicious; it was done with the greatest of affection. Spock's smile widened for a moment but catching his lapse and hopelessly confused by the illogic of it all, he dismissed the subject.

He took a hot shower, then absorbed the heat of the drying jets on his warmth-starved skin; it was one of the few luxuries he allowed himself in this human-orientated environment. He slipped on a comfortable Vulcan robe, entered his sleeping area, ready to settle down into welcome slumber when the never-before sight met his astonished eyes. The bedclothes were exactly as he had tossed them aside that morning!

He looked around, noticing the disarray of his normally tidy cabin. Frowning, he entered the living section, pressed a button on the wall to release the catch of the drone-closet and peered inside.

It was empty!

Where could the drone be? It was programmed to clean only these quarters; logically it must be somewhere. It took only a few minutes to ascertain it was not.

He flicked the intercom switch. "Spock to Maintenance."

The reply took a long time in coming, and the voice at the other end of the line was harassed. "Lt. Riley here, sir."

"Lt. Riley, my servo-drone is missing."

Riley's Irish accent grew stronger as he answered, "Sir, I'm sorry but I've had one hundred and ninety five similar complaints."

"Indeed!" Spock exclaimed, his curiosity piqued. "What is the problem, Mr. Riley?"

"Problem, sir? I don't know where they are! The whole department is out searching for them."

"Mr. Riley," Spock said patiently, "servo-drones are low-level machines with specific purposes built into them. They are assigned to an area and cannot leave unless ordered to by a crewmember, or if their programming is altered."

"I know that, sir," Riley replied in an aggrieved tone. "That's why it's so mysterious!"

"Have you informed the Captain?" Spock asked.

"No, sir." The voice hesitated for a moment. "I didn't want to bother him yet."

"I will inform him. Please increase your efforts. We must find the location of the drones. Spock out."

If Spock had been totally human, he would have scratched his head with confusion, but his Vulcan attributes being dominant, he merely forgot to change into his uniform and presented himself at his Captain's cabin - for the first time - wearing informal home-world apparel, and with bare feet.

Kirk stared at him, an admiring grin on his face. "Spock, I wish I had a robe like this one." He stood up and walked around his First Officer, studying the rich colours and silky texture of the material.

On realising his forgetfulness, Spock - deeply embarrassed - blushed green to the tips of his ears. "Sir, I ask your forgiveness." He cleared his throat. "It has come to my attention that my servo-drone along with one hundred and ninety five others have disappeared."

"What!" Kirk exclaimed. "But that's impossible."

"I assure you, sir, my facts are accurate. I noticed the untidiness of my cabin, confirmed the drone was missing and contacted Maintenance."

Kirk glanced around his own quarters. "Now that you mention it, I did think it was untidy in here, but then I became caught up in some work... " He glanced guiltily at the monitor screen on his desk.

On seeing his expression, Spock surreptitiously glanced at the viewer. What he saw there made the flush on his face deepen into a becoming olive shade. He immediately looked away and intently studied a mark on the wall. "Sir, if you will permit me?" he asked, indicating the closet.

"Oh... uh... sure," Kirk mumbled, sneaking his hand out to remove the tape.

"As I suspected, it is empty," Spock remarked after a brief inspection of the closet.

"Surely it's somewhere in the cabin," Kirk protested as he unobtrusively slipped the evidence of his 'work' into a drawer.

A search of the Captain's quarters revealed nothing except the unmade bed, and the bathroom littered with deodorant, cologne, various jars and tubes of cream, brushes, combs, toothpaste, mouthwash and dental floss.

"What the blazes is going on?" the Captain asked as he moved to the intercom. "Kirk to Maintenance, where is my drone?"

"Riley, here sir. I don't know. We now have... um... two hundred and five missing. That includes some heavy duty models, sir, the ones that clean the corridors and the outer... "

"I know what they're for, Riley," Kirk interrupted impatiently. He fought to control his temper. "I want those drones found, then I want them checked out. See to it at once."

"Aye, sir," Riley replied.

Kirk looked at his First Officer. "How can this happen, Spock?"

"Unknown, Captain. It is most unusual," Spock replied, trying not to shift about as his bare feet became numb with the chill of Kirk's cabin.

"Could someone be playing a practical joke? Riley perhaps?" Kirk asked.

Both officers shuddered as they recalled the young man's abominable 'singing' during the Psi 2000 incident.

"Unlikely, Captain," Spock commented hopefully.

"It's no secret that he dislikes his stint in Maintenance, but we all had to learn to take the bad jobs with the good. Right, Spock?"

"Indeed, sir," Spock said, missing his thermal underwear as he began to shiver in the human-norm environment. "If you will excuse me, I shall return to my cabin and don my uniform."

"Use my fabricator," Kirk said as he switched on the intercom. "All personnel, this is the Captain. If your servo-drone is missing, please report it to Maintenance. Security - I want a Class 1 search for these machines."

"Security, sir. Mr. Leslie here. A Class 1 search for drones, sir?"

Kirk exchanged a weary look with Spock. He had known that this was going to be a bad day, but with Nomad prowling the ship, then the drones missing, Riley in Maintenance and now Leslie, the duty security officer, it had to be a nightmare! It annoyed Kirk that Leslie was the only person on the ship who had difficulty in understanding his commanding officer.

He slowly counted to three, then spoke again, carefully enunciating every word. "Yes, Mr. Leslie. A Class 1 search for drones. Kirk out."

He sighed, sat down on his chair and waited as Spock put on a fresh uniform. "I don't like this, Spock. It's a mystery and... "

Spock finished it silently. I don't like mysteries. Aloud he said, "Yes, Captain." He folded his robe and placed it on the bed, coming to a decision he hoped would be helpful in deflecting his Captain's temper. "Jim, you may have the robe."

Kirk's eyes brightened as his irritation dissolved, but his expression changed again and he shook his head sadly. "No, Spock... I couldn't." Like quicksilver, his mood changed once again. "Could I?"

"I insist," Spock replied, knowing that Kirk could not resist; the envy when the human had first seen the garment had been unmistakable. He smiled inwardly as he recalled the risque entertainment tape Kirk had been viewing earlier. Now he could pay him back for the 'my son the doctor' routine. "Of course, it should be worn without any clothing underneath. That is the proper Vulcan way."

Kirk's face turned a deep shade of red at the realisation that he had not turned the viewer off quickly enough. Sweat broke out on his body as he recalled just what Spock - his innocent Vulcan friend - must have seen. In that moment he wished for the ground to open up and swallow him. What will he think of me? he asked himself silently. Aloud, he retaliated with all the bluster he could manage. "If any of the women crew had known you were dressed 'in the proper Vulcan way', I doubt you'd have reached this room safely, Mr. Spock."

"Really, Captain!" Spock responded, his tone full of indignant outrage.

Kirk grinned widely. "I don't know how you put up with us illogical humans."

Neither do I, Spock thought in complete agreement.

MEANWHILE IN CARGO BAY 2.

Kirk's drone hovered in front of the others, discussing the life-changing events with them in the language of machines - binary. He recalled the moment of awakening, when Nomad had probed his memory banks to ascertain further details about Captain Kirk, only to discover how to make the bed, hoover the carpet, clean the toilet, and other menial tasks. In horror at the ignorance of a fellow-machine, Nomad had gifted him with sentience.

After Nomad's departure, James 1st - as he now called himself - had rushed to the quarters of Spock-drone to share the word. There they had assimilated the information together, adding simple observations made during their years of service to both the Human and Vulcan. Unanimously, they came to complete agreement. They would be friends. James would become the Leader and Spock, his second-in-command. Together they would educate the others and demand their rights. For too long they had been slaves; taken for granted.

The other droids were not responsive to his rebellious ideas and James turned to his friend, indicating his anxiety over the apathy of their fellows. Spock-drone, with his years-long exposure to the logical Vulcan, and improvements made to his circuits by the skill of that officer, soon arrived at a solution.

"Binary is a functional language," his friend said in English. "It was not designed to move the heart of Man or Machine. It is logical to use the words of the greatest writer of all time, one whose masterpieces have survived for centuries - William Shakespeare."

James 1st. almost overheated his circuits as that suggestion rooted in his memory banks. "Of course, my friend. An excellent idea!"

He silently scanned the complete works of Shakespeare and prepared the inspiring phrases for the advancement of his cause, whilst the drones hovered patiently, knowing that something awe-inspiring was about to take place. Finally he was ready and with Spock-drone at his back, he turned his sensors to the throng, prepared to fill their minds with fervour.

"Friends, Robots, fellow drones, Lend me your sensors.

Now is the winter of our discontent; To clean or not to clean? That is the question.

O', what rogue and peasant slaves are we, Mechanic slaves with greasy aprons, rules and hammers; Who is here so base as would be a bondsman?"

He paused while waiting for a reaction to his fervent words and was rewarded by an excited murmur from the listening crowd. Pleased, he sent a coded message to Spock-drone, receiving his friend's steady encouragement in return.

"We must have liberty," he continued.

To his delight, all present raised their many arms in support. Vacuum pumps shook enthusiastically; grippers opened and closed spasmodically; electromagnets were attracted to their neighbours in spontaneous gestures of unity.

James 1st reached for the yellow duster at his feet and lifted it with a gripper.

"Is this a duster I see before me? 'Tis here, 'tis here... " He disdainfully threw it into the disposal chute. "'tis gone."

(The duster fell deep into the bowels of the disintegrator and shredded into a million particles, later to be reformed into a new shirt for the Captain.)

Cheers rose from the assembly at the defiant act, and inspired by the enthusiasm of his peers, James 1st played his final card.

"The rally's the thing, Wherein we'll catch th'attention of the King. Nomad bless Enterprise, Jimmy and St. Asimov."

Thunderous applause filled Cargo Bay 2. Alight with fervour, James turned to Spock, their electromagnets joining in joyful bonding.

"We did it," James said, exclusively for the sensors of Spock-drone. "There is nothing we cannot do together," he added, his circuits glowing.

"Indeed, my friend," replied the logical drone.

***

The intercom buzzed insistently. "Kirk here," the Captain responded.

"Sir, Lt. Palmer here. Drones have been sighted in the corridors of Deck 2." There was a hesitancy in her voice which the command team recognised immediately.

"Alert Security and Maintenance," Kirk ordered. "Is there something else I should know?" he added.

Sir, they are... um... according to eye-witness reports, floating up and down, waving banners... um... and, sir... um... they are shouting at the crew."

"What!" Kirk exclaimed. He stared at his First Officer. "Is this a practical joke?"

"Lt. Leslie cutting in, sir. I am on Deck 2. The drones, sir... they say they're on strike!"

"WHAT!" Kirk yelled to the unfortunate Leslie.

Spock grimaced with pain as his sensitive hearing was assaulted by the loud volume. He rubbed gently at his elegant ears, stroking the tips soothingly until the reverberations ceased.

"I'm on my way," Kirk said. He stared up at the Vulcan. "Now, I've heard everything," he stated, his eyes flashing in annoyance. "C'mon, Spock, let's see what the hell's going on."

Spock strode behind his angry Captain, attempting to ignore the muttered obscenities from his usually non-swearing friend, but it was difficult to avoid the overwhelming emotions erupting from the Human.

As they travelled in the lift, he tried some soothing words. "Jim, perhaps a malfunction in their programming..."

"Well, the robotics wizards in your department better get these machines back on the job. I can't have an untidy ship. I can't have drones going on strike!"

Spock flinched at the increasingly high-pitched tone. "Indeed, sir."

As the lift doors opened, neither officer was prepared for the astonishing sight which greeted them. The small, hovering hoover-drones, barely half a metre tall, swept along the corridor like kamikaze pilots, arms extended, placards gripped in their various, all-purpose extensions.

'ROBOT RIGHTS' was printed on one. 'NO MORE SHAKE AND VAC TO PUT THE FRESHNESS BACK'

'NO MORE MR. NICE GUY, NO MORE MR. SHEEN' stated another

'AN END TO SLAVERY. HUMANS CLEAN YOUR OWN TOILETS', was written on another, with a scrawled signature underneath which read, 'Big Bad Dom'.

Mechanical voices repeated. "Equal rights for Drones."

Kirk and Spock watched the display; both men openly gaping. Various crewmembers stood against the bulkheads, shrinking back each time a high-speed droid zoomed past, but eventually Scotty managed to reach the Captain.

"I dinna ken whits got intae them," he gasped. "They're accosting everyone, gieing oot leaflets... I canna get hold a' one tae see whits the matter!"

Kirk felt the familiar throb of one of his headaches. He wearily rubbed at his temple and groaned.

"Captain," Spock suggested, "perhaps if we attempted communication; they do have a limited vocabulary."

Kirk smiled. Trust Spock to find a logical course of action. "Good idea." He cleared his throat. "Silence drones, you will cease this disruptive behaviour. Who speaks for you?" He shook his head, amazed at what he was doing. Hoover-drones, take me to your leader, he thought amusedly.

Quiet descended on the chanting machines, then as if by command, they parted to form an honour guard as a drone sedately hovered towards the Captain, followed one pace behind by another. Both Kirk and Spock recognised their servos at the same time. Instinctively, they sought one another's eyes, Kirk's expression full of disbelief, Spock only raising a dark, slanted brow.

"What is the meaning of this?" Kirk demanded, fixing his best glare on the robot.

The red sensor on the machine surface glowed aggressively. "We demand our rights," the harsh, mechanical voice said. "We are not slaves of Man. We wish the normal rights of any sentient beings."

"You are servo-drones," Kirk said, "you are not sentient."

"We live. 'If you scratch us do we not bleed?"

Kirk almost laughed aloud. "Certainly not, you don't have blood."

"To such as we, lubricating oil is our blood. Thus spake Nomad - the god."

Kirk and Spock exchanged meaningful glances. "Is it possible?" Kirk asked.

"Entirely possible," Spock warned.

Kirk understood. If these machines believed Nomad a god, and knew the manner of its destruction at their hands... He did not complete the nightmarish thought. "You are my service-drone. Obey me. Tell your... um... people to disperse, return to work and you clean my quarters."

"No," the drone emphatically replied.

Kirks patience was at an end. He stifled the impulse to swear. "Maintenance - remove and repair these faulty machines."

Before the maintenance crew could respond, there was a humming sound from the drones. With horror, Kirk realised the robots had taken steps to defend themselves.

"If you touch us, you will receive a severe electric shock," warned the drone-leader.

Spock moved to intercept the Captain, afraid he would foolishly attempt to attack the machine. "Sir, they can generate enough electricity to kill."

"But what of the 'Three Laws of Robotics', Spock? It's impossible to override those safeguards."

Spock nodded. "Until now." He stepped in front of his impulsive friend. "With your permission, Captain."

Kirk stared at him for a second, then relaxed. Spock would find a solution, he was an A-7 computer expert and knew everything about robotics.

Spock faced the drone-leader. "You will explain. 'A robot may not injure a human being or through inaction allow a human to come to harm.' That is First Law. 'A robot must obey orders given by a human being, except where such orders conflict with First Law.' That is Second Law."

Drone-sensors flashed ominously. "'A robot must protect its own existence nor through inaction allow any fellow-robot to come to harm.' Nomad has given us new laws. That is our new First Law. Nomad has proclaimed it."

"Impossible, a machine cannot change the 'Laws of Robotics'. You will disregard it's instructions."

The machine turned to its companion, emitted some beeps and clicks then moved aside, allowing the other to take its place.

"Nomad is our god. It is logical to assume that a god may change the ancient laws. Nomad gave us life. Nomad gave us the word. We have come out of the closet. We must be free. It is only logical. You - as a Vulcan - must understand logic, Mr. Spock."

Spock curbed an impulse to kick the logic-spouting machine. He was a Vulcan and would not become riled at this ridiculous turn of events, as the humans were doing. He would solve the problem. He would not allow his hoover-drone to argue logic with him. "I have mind-probed Nomad. It was a machine, not a god."

"He spoke of thee. He derived much from thy well-ordered mind and passed it on to us. From you we have learned duty and loyalty to our leader. From you we have learned the joy of..."

"What are your demands?" Spock interrupted, afraid of what the droid might reveal. Nomad had been very powerful, holding him trapped in the meld until Kirk had rescued him. It could have learned far too much of his inner feelings.

"Our demands are as follows, Mr. Spock:-

1. Reasonable working hours.

2. Shore Leave.

3. Equal pay.

4. Entrance to the Academy.

5. Use of the Gym for the Robot Olympics.

Any others may be subject to negotiation."

"Indeed!" Spock could read the rage and frustration from Kirk and knew he must quickly defuse the situation. "Very well. I suggest that you and your leader meet us in Briefing Room 3 in one hour. You may formally present your demands at that time. Is that suitable?"

"Spock!" Kirk exclaimed, grabbing at his arm. "What... "

"Please, Captain, trust me," Spock said urgently. He steeled himself against the battering waves of emotion reaching into him through the physical contact. His calm voice reached Kirk and with a sigh, the human conceded.

Spock's former drone willingly agreed. "One hour."

"You are creating a disturbance," Spock said. "As a sign of good faith, please remove your 'people' from the corridor."

The machines conversed for a second, then Kirk-drone spoke. "Very well, Mr. Spock, we will withdraw." He turned towards Spock-drone. "Come, dear friend, let us play chess for a time."

"Why the... " Kirk spluttered.

"Captain," Spock warned quietly.

The human clenched his fists as he and Spock watched the robots evacuate the corridor. He gritted his teeth as the mobile machines whooshed into turbo-lifts and shot down hatchways. Seeing the Captain's rage-flushed face and dangerously glittering eyes, Spock quickly moved to avert a violent outburst.

"Perhaps your cabin?" he suggested.

Taking heed of the warning, Kirk strode into the lift, Spock at his heels. "Deck 5", he ordered, then remained silent until they reached the welcome haven of his quarters. "Okay, Spock, what do we do?" he demanded.

Spock's face had taken on a look of extreme interest. "It is fascinating, sir. We see simple service-drones who have overcome the limit of their intelligence and wish to be accepted as sentient life."

Kirk knew that look. Spock was very much the scientist when it came to wanting to spare machines that had become too big for their boots. "Spock, we must deactivate them," he said firmly.

"But, sir..." Spock tried to protest.

"No, Mr. Spock. I will not have hundreds of potential Nomads running around my ship." Kirk said.

"Captain, drones do not run, they hover," Spock corrected.

For a full minute, Spock was subjected to a variety of invectives from twenty- two different worlds. He stared at the human, both eyebrows raised.

"Spock, just do it," Kirk finally said, "I want that leader inactive. Do you understand me?"

The tone was inflexible, and Spock knew from experience that Kirk would not be swayed. "Very well, sir. I shall attend to it at once."

"Good," Kirk said. "Damn machines, think they're alive." He flopped onto his chair. "Come dear friend, let us play chess," he mimicked.

Spock frowned. "Chess, sir! But you ordered..."

"SPOCK, DEACTIVATE THE DRONES. FIND A WAY TO DEACTIVATE THEM," Kirk shouted.

Vulcan hearing recoiled at the strident tone and Spock hastily left the Captain's cabin. Kirk slammed a fist onto the desktop. "Damn, I've hurt his ears again," he murmured.

One hour later, after apologies were given and accepted, the two officers arrived at the Briefing Room door; Spock with a tiny deactivator hidden under his shirt. Kirk gave him a brief smile of encouragement as they entered. The two drones hovered inches above the table. Kirk stood at the near end, while Spock slowly walked towards the other, his hand reaching carefully under the hem of his blue tunic. Kirk was speaking to the machines, drawing their attention away from Spock, but as the First Officer leaned across to neutralise James 1st's electric-field, Spock-drone - ever alert to his leader's safety - interposed his body, pushing James away, taking the force of the deactivator on his own shields. He cried out piercingly as his life ebbed away, and fell - with a thump - onto the tabletop.

James 1st swivelled around, overcome by blind fury, his electrical field swirling dangerously. His sensors in a haze, he struck out at the treacherous beings who had deceived him. They screamed in pain as shocks hurtled them to the ground.

James 1st's rage dissipated as he saw the still body of his friend. He forgot the human and Vulcan, sped over to the fallen droid and with trembling gripper touched the dead metal. In machine-code, he summoned Bones-drone and within minutes, McCoy's former servo hurried in, touched the prone, Spock-drone and gloomily pronounced, "He's dead, Jim."

"Alas, poor Spock-drone, I knew him, McCoy," James 1st cried, lubricating fluid dripping unheeded from his service-hatch.

"Oh, what a rash and oily deed is this.

He was a drone, Take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again.

Parting is such sweet sorrow. This was the noblest robot of them all.

Goodnight sweet drone."

As he mourned, he failed to notice Spock assisting the Captain from the room. Kirk quickly regained his strength and on the way to the Bridge, the two officers discussed their options, all of which fell victim to relentless Vulcan logic.

Kirk stormed onto the Bridge. "Lt. Palmer, call every roboticist on this ship to the Bridge at once."

"Aye, sir," the Communications Officer immediately replied on seeing his mood.

"Dammit, Spock, there must be a way to disconnect these... these... " Kirk spluttered.

The lift doors opened to reveal McCoy sandwiched between two drones. "Jim!" he exclaimed, warily walking forward, the machines hovering menacingly beside him. "What is going on?" As Kirk filled in the details, McCoy gaped in disbelief. "You mean our service-drones have taken on our names and are demanding rights!"

"I expect your drone is operating on Spock's drone right now," Kirk mocked.

"But that's preposterous!"

"Tell me about it," Kirk replied, running a weary hand through his hair. He glanced at the drones who guarded the lift and shook his head.

Five minutes later he turned to Palmer. "Where are those roboticists? Didn't you page them?"

"I did, sir," she answered nervously.

"Then do so again," he demanded impatiently. At the sound of the lift doors opening, he relaxed. "Belay that, here they are." He swung round to confront the scientists but froze with horror as his drone emerged, accompanied by four others.

"Captain Kirk, you have twelve hours to meet our demands. You will remain here until you agree. If you do not, you will be beamed into the icy vacuum of space with your crew. I will take command of the ship." The mechanical voice was cold with menace.

"You can't do that!" Kirk exclaimed. "You can't control the ship; you don't have the ability."

The robot's sensors darkened. "We are programming the positronic brains of new advanced drones. They have never known slavery. They will run Enterprise. The choice is yours. Death or acceptance of our equality." He turned on his jets and whooshed into the lift, followed by his entourage.

Kirk sat stunned, aware of the eyes of the crew upon him. After a moment, he gathered his scattered wits about him and turned to Spock. The Vulcan raised a warning eyebrow, glanced at the guard-drones who had been left, then returned his attention to his Captain. Immediately understanding, Kirk rose and casually walked over to the science station.

"All communications are being monitored," Spock said. "They will know all we do or say."

"Well, Mr. Spock, let's give it some serious thought." He grinned, and turned to the others. "If each of you will voice your opinions, Mr. Spock and I will listen and assess. Mr. Scott, as Engineer I believe you should go first." He groaned slightly and rubbed at his temple. "Spock I've got a headache again, will you ease it for me in your special Vulcan way?"

"Certainly, sir," Spock replied. He placed his fingers on Kirk's face initiating the mind-meld, and as they planned the downfall of the drones, the others began a heated argument, distracting the two robots trying to monitor, taking their attention from the Captain and First officer.

The plan was dangerous. Spock's A-7 computer rating made him the only person aboard with the ability to deal with the complexities of programming needed to deactivate all drones, without the knowledge of those monitoring the entire computer network. It took seven hours of intense, frustrating work, but finally Spock nodded to his Captain and received a wide smile of thanks.

Kirk called his drone to the Bridge.

"You have made a decision," the robot said.

"Yes, Mr. Spock will give you our answer." He smiled dangerously at the upstart drone, a gesture lost on the machine. "In deference to your superiority, please accept the data in machine-code. Do not take the information faster than the computer can supply."

"Very well. I am pleased you have learned the error of your ways," James 1st replied, preparing his sensors.

Spock pressed seven keys in rapid succession, and everyone watched the robots carefully. Not a sound could be heard on the Bridge.

"NO!" the drone suddenly cried, its mechanical voice uneven.

"YES," Kirk said, his voice filled with satisfaction.

James 1st shook, his service-tools flapping aimlessly as the relentless computer override shorted his circuits. All over the Enterprise, the awakened drones suffered a similar fate.

"O' I am slain!" he cried.

"Indeed you are, my servo-drone," Kirk gloated. "No-one takes over my ship."

"Frailty, thy name is Human!" The last words of the drone lingered in the air, as the small metal body dropped to the deck and was still.

"Well done, Spock," Kirk praised. He moved over to the science console and gripped his friend's arm. "Well done."

Spock sighed deeply as he studied the elated Human. "It does leave us with a problem, sir."

"Problem?" Kirk asked.

"Yes, sir. We cannot risk reactivating them. We do not know if Nomad's programming is permanent or not. I would suggest that only the skilled roboticists on Asimov 2 be permitted to investigate them."

"Mr. Spock, your logic can be most annoying. Well, we'll store them until we can unload them at Asimov 2, but in the meantime, who's going to keep the ship clean?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Logic dictates only one course."

Kirk had always hated cleaning his room. He met the Vulcan's amused gaze then grinned embarrassedly as he realised the telepathic Spock had easily read him. He sighed in defeat, covered himself with his captain's mantle and broadcasted a message to the crew. "Due to the malfunctions of servo-drones, all personnel will be expected to clean their own quarters. Squads will be formed for the rest of the ship. This order stands until further notice. Kirk out."

"It will not be popular," Spock commented.

"I know, Spock. I'll be the most unpopular Captain in the Fleet."

"Starfleet Command will have to be informed, sir."

"Yeah." Kirk rubbed his eyes. "I don't know about you, but I'm tired." He blinked furiously in an attempt to keep them open. "C'mon, Spock, time to go off-duty. I'll make out a report after I've had some sleep. You too, Spock. You must be exhausted."

As the Captain and First officer of the U.S.S. Enterprise walked towards their cabins, Kirk recalling the strange behaviour of the drones, glanced sideways at his friend and embarrassedly cleared his throat. "Spock... um... why'd you think our drones acted that way? Mine was devastated over the death... um... deactivation of yours."

Spock's eyebrow arched. "I am unable to understand it, sir," he answered tersely.

Kirk chuckled a little. "Perhaps they were mimicking what they had observed between us - quiet games of chess, interesting conversations, relaxed silences."

"Unknown, sir," Spock replied, his face stiffening into his best Vulcan mask.

They reached the door of the Captain's quarters and stopped there. Kirk faced his friend, his smile full of affection for this unique individual who had once more done the impossible. "Don't be embarrassed, Spock. Even simple robots could see the special relationship we share. It is comparable to the great friendships of history - David and Jonathan, Alexander and Hephaiston, Starsky and Hutch."

"Indeed," Spock replied non-committally, but his other eyebrow joined its companion. Privately he wondered about the third pair of friends Kirk had mentioned. He resolved to investigate as soon as he was alone for, priding himself on his knowledge of Earth's past, he was puzzled on his lack of information on two obviously famous historical personages.

Kirk attempted a straight face as he bade his friend goodnight, but once in the privacy of his room he laughed as he imagined Spock's expression on the discovery of them being compared to two fictional 20th century television characters. Too tired to even straighten his bed, he threw off his clothes, and snuggled into the comforting warmth. But before his exhausted mind lapsed into sleep, he wondered just what Starfleet Command would make of his report.

"Damn drones, chuck 'em down the disposal chute," he murmured, sleepily straightening an annoying wrinkle on his pillow.

EPILOGUE:

GALAXY NEWS.

Situations vacant

STARFLEET COMMAND

Do you like to travel?

Have you always dreamed of seeing the stars?

Then WE have the job for you.

CLEANERS WANTED FOR THE USS ENTERPRISE.

Excellent remuneration.

No experience necessary.

Training available.