"I don't care if it is a classic, it was terrible!" Kevin Riley was saying as the turbolift doors opened onto the bridge. "And by the time the time-traveling alien Nazis showed up I just couldn't stand any more."
"Kevin, you don't understand," Sulu laughed as they assumed their stations at Helm and Navigation. "The Temporal Cold War is a parody; it's meant to be awful."
Riley rolled his eyes. "Sure it is. That's probably just what the author said when everyone hated his book."
Their banter was interrupted when Mister Spock stepped down from the quarterdeck. "Captain Kirk will be here momentarily, Navigator. Is your start-of-watch report ready?"
Riley consulted his instruments. "We're still on course for Psi 2000, Mr. Spock."
"Speed is holding at Warp Factor Four," Sulu said.
"Acknowledged," Spock noted the information on the slate in his hand as he crossed in front of the helm/navigation island and stepped back up to the upper level of the bridge near the Engineering station. "Engineering report, Mr. Leslie?"
Leslie looked up from his Engineering displays. "All indicators show green, sir."
"Acknowledged," Spock continued to Communications. "Lieutenant Uhura, Communications status."
"Normal, Mr. Spock. Ordinary civilian comm traffic only." The Enterprise was passing through a fairly well-populated part of its assigned patrol area on its way to retrieve the Psi 2000 science team.
"Thank you, Lieutenant." Spock made the appropriate notation on his report as he crossed behind Uhura's station and stepped back down to the command area.
Just then, the turbolift doors swished open and Captain Kirk entered.
"Ship's status, Mr. Spock?" he inquired as he settled into the center seat.
"We remain on course, Captain; Psi 2000 is eight days distant." Spock handed his slate over to the Captain. "All stations report normal."
"Thank you," Kirk skimmed over the report. "Are the-"
Uhura interrupted him. "Captain, there’s a distress call coming through on the emergency channel!"
Kirk swiveled toward her. "Put it on."
"This is . . .Nova Olympic", the staticky voice crackled over the speakers. "Under attack by . . .can't hold-" the desperate voice dissolved into static, then died away completely.
Uhura pressed a few controls, then shook her head. "I've lost it, Captain. They've either stopped transmitting or they were jammed."
Spock was already at his station. "The Nova Olympic is a civilian starliner registered in this sector. It is operated by Brava Centuari Starlines.”
“Where are they?” Kirk asked, “Can we triangulate on the source of that message?”
“Negative, Captain. “ Spock said, “The contact was too brief.”
Sulu spoke up. “Sir, a liner like that usually sends out an hourly position report.”
“Uhura, contact the Brava Centuari office in this sector,” Kirk ordered. “I want that ship’s itinerary.”
“I’ve already got them sir.” Uhura reported. “They say the Nova Olympic is making the run from Earth Colony Three to Aldebaran. Last position report on them is coming through now.”
“Feed it to Navigation,” Kirk instructed. “Mr. Riley, when you have the coordinates, plot a course.” He hammered his fist down on the intercom button. “Kirk to Engineering.”
“Scott here, Captain,” came the reply.
“Scotty, we’re responding to a distress call from a civilian vessel. Can you give me Warp Eight?”
“Aye Captain, that I can.”
“Sir, the Nova Olympic’s last known position is in the computer, and I’ve got the course plotted and laid in.” Riley said.
“Execute,” Kirk ordered. “Mr. Sulu, take as much speed as the Engine Room can give you.”
Sulu nodded. “Aye, sir. Changing course and increasing speed now.”
“Yellow alert, Lieutenant Uhura.” Kirk said. “And have phaser crews stand ready; the Olympic said they were under attack.”
About ten minutes later, Sulu announced “Coming up on the Nova Olympic’s last reported position.”
“Full sensor sweep,” Kirk ordered.
The alarm between Helm and Navigation started to beep.
“Contact with an object,” Sulu reported.
“Slow to impulse,” Kirk said. “Spock, analysis.”
Spock bent over his scanner. “Object is too small to be the Nova Olympic; it appears to be some type of escape pod.”
“Visual contact,” Sulu announced.
On the main screen, a small, boxy shape came into view. It was made of a brownish metal, and it was pitted and scarred.
“That doesn’t look like it came from a starliner,” Riley commented.
“Life signs?” Kirk asked.
Spock frowned into his scanner. “Indeterminate. There appears to be some sort of localized interference around the pod. However, I am getting minimal power readings.”
“Meaning that its life support system could be operating,” Kirk deduced.
“Captain,” Sulu said, “I’m picking up two ion trails that start here and head off at 470 mark 6.”
“One of the trails matches the profile for a Horizon-Class starliner,” Spock reported. “The other . . .does not.”
“Any idea what kind of ship could have made it?” Kirk asked.
“It fits the profile for several classes of transports and freighters, all produced within the Federation.”
“And the Nova Olympic seems to have gone off course under its own power; it wasn’t towed.” Kirk said.
“But it may well have been hijacked,” Spock observed.
“Quite right, Mr. Spock.” Kirk turned to face forward. “Mr. Riley, plot a course to follow those ion trails, 470 mark 6. Mr. Leslie, throw a tractor beam on that escape pod. We’ll tow it into the hangar bay and examine it en route.”
“Course plotted and laid in, sir.” Riley said.
“Activating tractor beam,” Leslie reported. He pressed the appropriate control, and suddenly there was a loud, electrical-sounding SNAP. The entire Bridge was plunged into darkness, and the instrument and readout noises ground to a halt with a mournful WHOOooo.
Kirk hit his intercom switch. “Engine Room, what’s happening? Scotty?”
“Futile, Captain.” Spock’s voice came out of the darkness. “Our controls are dead. Something must have blown our control circuits.”
“It happened as soon as the tractor beam touched that escape pod,” Sulu observed.
“The thing was booby trapped!” Riley realized.
Suddenly there was a heavy scraping sound from somewhere behind Kirk, as if something were forcing the turbolift doors apart.
Everyone turned to see a beam of light stabbing through the slightly pushed-apart lift doors.
“Could I get some help here?” a familiar Scottish-accented voice called through the small opening.
Lieutenants Leslie and Hadley hurried over and pushed the doors the rest of the way open to reveal Montgomery Scott standing on top of a stalled turbolift car, holding a hand-torch.
Scott shined the torch around the darkened bridge as he stepped down off the stalled lift. “What happened? I was on my way up here, and suddenly everything just lost power!”
Kirk briefly filled him in.
“Sounds to me like Mr. Riley hit it right on the head,” Scott said. “I’ll bet two bottles of Scotch that there’s naught in that pod but a huge battery. Probably sent a massive surge of power up along our tractor beam and blew most of our control circuits.”
“So we can bypass the damaged circuits, then?” Kirk pressed.
“Aye,” Scott replied, “there’s probably no damage to the underlying systems. But we’ll have to rig each bypass individually; there’s no way to do ‘em all at once.”
“Scotty, a starliner full of civilians has very likely been hijacked for purposes unknown,” Kirk said, “by people who were clever enough to leave that booby-trapped pod here to keep us from following. We’ve got to get our systems back as soon as possible.”
Scott nodded. “Well then, we’d best get started, sir.”
Under Spock’s direction, Sulu and Riley were breaking out more hand-torches, and Leslie was retrieving the emergency toolkits.
Within minutes, everyone-even Kirk-was underneath a Bridge station trying to bypass its burnt-out control circuitry. In the space of about five minutes, a few emergency lights flickered to life. It was still very dim, but at least they could see without the hand-torches.
Spock was the first one to restore some functionality to his station. He ran it through a few test routines, then reported. “Sciences station restored, Captain.”
“Then let’s take a look outside. Can you run a sensor sweep?” Kirk asked from where he was working at the Auxiliary Navigation station.
“Attempting now,” Spock said as he bent over his scanner. “I have short-range sensors only.” He peered at his readouts. “Nothing has changed in the immediate area. The ion trails we detected earlier are fading, but still present.”
Kirk made one more adjustment, and the Auxiliary Nav station came to life. As he got to his feet to run the station’s test routines, he noticed that Scott was working over a restored Engineering console. “Scotty, what’s our engine status?”
“Warp and impulse engines look all right,” Scott replied, “but until I get down to Engineering and replace some relays she’ll be slow answering her helm.”
While Scott was talking, Sulu got to his feet and started checking out the Helm console. “Helm control restored, Captain.”
The Navigation side of the console, along with the Astrogator, remained dark. Riley was still on his back underneath the panel, and was obviously growing frustrated.
“Mr. Riley, I need Navigation up and running,” Kirk said.
Riley shook his head. “It’s no good, sir, too many of these circuits are burned out to rig a bypass.”
“Then get to the backup Navigation station and plot a course to follow those ion trails.”
“Aye, sir.” Riley got up and went to the backup Navigation station, just starboard of Spock’s Sciences console.
Kirk turned toward Uhura, and noticed that she was already in her chair running functionality tests on her panel. “Lieutenant, is the intercom working yet?”
“No sir, only ship-to-ship communications are available right now.”
“We won’t have intercoms until I can get below and replace some more circuits,” Scott informed him.
“Then we’ll have to use communicators,” Kirk decided. “They would have already started emergency procedures belowdecks, so everyone down there will be carrying one. Uhura, try to get through to Sickbay and find out if there are any casualties.”
“Course plotted and laid in, Captain.” Riley reported.
“Then take us ahead at best speed, Mr. Sulu.” Kirk ordered.
“I’m afraid Warp Five’s the most I can give you at the moment, Captain.” Scott said. “Much faster, and we won’t be able to maintain any kind of maneuverability.”
“A ship like the Nova Olympic could hardly travel faster than Warp Three,” Spock said from his station. “Assuming it’s still moving under its own power, we should be able to overtake it.”
“Going to warp speed now, sir, ” Sulu reported. The deckplates began to thrum with increased power the way they did whenever the warp engines were engaged.
Kirk settled back in his chair and took a quick look around the Bridge. Spock was working his scanner; doing his best to find the Nova Olympic with only short-range sensors. Riley was immediately starboard of him, working the backup Navigation panel, and starboard of him Leslie was ensconced at the Weapons and Defense station. On the other side of the Bridge, Hadley was still tinkering with the Environmental station, and Scott was standing by the Engineering board giving orders via communicator to his repair crews belowdecks. Behind Kirk, Uhura was working with a communicator and a slate, trying to compile damage and casualty reports while still keeping an ear out for any more distress calls. Next to Scott, she probably had the most difficult job at the moment. All Kirk could do was sit back, let his people work, and stare at a the main viewer, which remained stubbornly blank while Scott worked on more important things.
Uhura briefly got up from her station to hand Kirk the slate she’d been working on. “Here are the damage and casualty reports you asked for, sir. Sickbay reports minor injuries only.”
Kirk glanced over the report. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Good work.” He noticed she was also holding a microtape reader. “What’s that?”
“Oh, it’s the Olympic's crew and passenger manifest,” Uhura replied as she offered it to him. “The Brava Centuari office sent it to us when we contacted them earlier.”
Kirk handed the slate back to her and took the reader. He skimmed over the list of names, and suddenly he froze.
Uhura noticed. “Is something wrong, sir?”
Kirk stared at the two names he’d recognized:
Marcus, Carol
Marcus, David
“Carry on, Lieutenant,” he said stiffly.
Uhura was mystified by Kirk’s sudden change in mood, but she responded with an “Aye, sir,” and went back to her station.
Kirk got up from the center seat and started to pace around the Bridge’s perimeter. When he got to Spock, the Vulcan looked up.
“Captain, I’ve been giving the situation some thought,” Spock began.
Kirk realized he was still holding the microtape reader. “So have I,” he murmured as much to himself as to Spock.
“The Nova Olympic is a passenger vessel only,” Spock continued. “No one could possibly mistake it for a freighter carrying valuable cargo, and the ship itself is not sufficiently valuable to warrant such a hijacking. Therefore, whoever attacked and then absconded with the Nova Olympic must be after the only commodity it carries: its passengers.”
Kirk looked out across the Bridge. A few more emergency lights had come on, but things were still dim and shadowy. “So, you’re saying that we’re either dealing with a terrorist group that wants hostages for some reason, or-“ the word caught in his throat.
“Slavers,” Spock said gravely. He noticed the tightening of Kirk’s jaw and his fierce stare at the still-blank viewscreen. “Captain, if I may-“ his voice dropped almost to a whisper “-I realize that the Nova Olympic’s situation is a dire one, but you seem to be exhibiting an unusual level of distress.”
Kirk sighed and showed him the Nova Olympic’s passenger manifest.
When Spock saw Carol Marcus’ name, his eyebrow shot up. “Most . . .unfortunate,” his voice was tinged with the closest thing to regret a Vulcan could permit.
"Kevin, you don't understand," Sulu laughed as they assumed their stations at Helm and Navigation. "The Temporal Cold War is a parody; it's meant to be awful."
Riley rolled his eyes. "Sure it is. That's probably just what the author said when everyone hated his book."
Their banter was interrupted when Mister Spock stepped down from the quarterdeck. "Captain Kirk will be here momentarily, Navigator. Is your start-of-watch report ready?"
Riley consulted his instruments. "We're still on course for Psi 2000, Mr. Spock."
"Speed is holding at Warp Factor Four," Sulu said.
"Acknowledged," Spock noted the information on the slate in his hand as he crossed in front of the helm/navigation island and stepped back up to the upper level of the bridge near the Engineering station. "Engineering report, Mr. Leslie?"
Leslie looked up from his Engineering displays. "All indicators show green, sir."
"Acknowledged," Spock continued to Communications. "Lieutenant Uhura, Communications status."
"Normal, Mr. Spock. Ordinary civilian comm traffic only." The Enterprise was passing through a fairly well-populated part of its assigned patrol area on its way to retrieve the Psi 2000 science team.
"Thank you, Lieutenant." Spock made the appropriate notation on his report as he crossed behind Uhura's station and stepped back down to the command area.
Just then, the turbolift doors swished open and Captain Kirk entered.
"Ship's status, Mr. Spock?" he inquired as he settled into the center seat.
"We remain on course, Captain; Psi 2000 is eight days distant." Spock handed his slate over to the Captain. "All stations report normal."
"Thank you," Kirk skimmed over the report. "Are the-"
Uhura interrupted him. "Captain, there’s a distress call coming through on the emergency channel!"
Kirk swiveled toward her. "Put it on."
"This is . . .Nova Olympic", the staticky voice crackled over the speakers. "Under attack by . . .can't hold-" the desperate voice dissolved into static, then died away completely.
Uhura pressed a few controls, then shook her head. "I've lost it, Captain. They've either stopped transmitting or they were jammed."
Spock was already at his station. "The Nova Olympic is a civilian starliner registered in this sector. It is operated by Brava Centuari Starlines.”
“Where are they?” Kirk asked, “Can we triangulate on the source of that message?”
“Negative, Captain. “ Spock said, “The contact was too brief.”
Sulu spoke up. “Sir, a liner like that usually sends out an hourly position report.”
“Uhura, contact the Brava Centuari office in this sector,” Kirk ordered. “I want that ship’s itinerary.”
“I’ve already got them sir.” Uhura reported. “They say the Nova Olympic is making the run from Earth Colony Three to Aldebaran. Last position report on them is coming through now.”
“Feed it to Navigation,” Kirk instructed. “Mr. Riley, when you have the coordinates, plot a course.” He hammered his fist down on the intercom button. “Kirk to Engineering.”
“Scott here, Captain,” came the reply.
“Scotty, we’re responding to a distress call from a civilian vessel. Can you give me Warp Eight?”
“Aye Captain, that I can.”
“Sir, the Nova Olympic’s last known position is in the computer, and I’ve got the course plotted and laid in.” Riley said.
“Execute,” Kirk ordered. “Mr. Sulu, take as much speed as the Engine Room can give you.”
Sulu nodded. “Aye, sir. Changing course and increasing speed now.”
“Yellow alert, Lieutenant Uhura.” Kirk said. “And have phaser crews stand ready; the Olympic said they were under attack.”
About ten minutes later, Sulu announced “Coming up on the Nova Olympic’s last reported position.”
“Full sensor sweep,” Kirk ordered.
The alarm between Helm and Navigation started to beep.
“Contact with an object,” Sulu reported.
“Slow to impulse,” Kirk said. “Spock, analysis.”
Spock bent over his scanner. “Object is too small to be the Nova Olympic; it appears to be some type of escape pod.”
“Visual contact,” Sulu announced.
On the main screen, a small, boxy shape came into view. It was made of a brownish metal, and it was pitted and scarred.
“That doesn’t look like it came from a starliner,” Riley commented.
“Life signs?” Kirk asked.
Spock frowned into his scanner. “Indeterminate. There appears to be some sort of localized interference around the pod. However, I am getting minimal power readings.”
“Meaning that its life support system could be operating,” Kirk deduced.
“Captain,” Sulu said, “I’m picking up two ion trails that start here and head off at 470 mark 6.”
“One of the trails matches the profile for a Horizon-Class starliner,” Spock reported. “The other . . .does not.”
“Any idea what kind of ship could have made it?” Kirk asked.
“It fits the profile for several classes of transports and freighters, all produced within the Federation.”
“And the Nova Olympic seems to have gone off course under its own power; it wasn’t towed.” Kirk said.
“But it may well have been hijacked,” Spock observed.
“Quite right, Mr. Spock.” Kirk turned to face forward. “Mr. Riley, plot a course to follow those ion trails, 470 mark 6. Mr. Leslie, throw a tractor beam on that escape pod. We’ll tow it into the hangar bay and examine it en route.”
“Course plotted and laid in, sir.” Riley said.
“Activating tractor beam,” Leslie reported. He pressed the appropriate control, and suddenly there was a loud, electrical-sounding SNAP. The entire Bridge was plunged into darkness, and the instrument and readout noises ground to a halt with a mournful WHOOooo.
Kirk hit his intercom switch. “Engine Room, what’s happening? Scotty?”
“Futile, Captain.” Spock’s voice came out of the darkness. “Our controls are dead. Something must have blown our control circuits.”
“It happened as soon as the tractor beam touched that escape pod,” Sulu observed.
“The thing was booby trapped!” Riley realized.
Suddenly there was a heavy scraping sound from somewhere behind Kirk, as if something were forcing the turbolift doors apart.
Everyone turned to see a beam of light stabbing through the slightly pushed-apart lift doors.
“Could I get some help here?” a familiar Scottish-accented voice called through the small opening.
Lieutenants Leslie and Hadley hurried over and pushed the doors the rest of the way open to reveal Montgomery Scott standing on top of a stalled turbolift car, holding a hand-torch.
Scott shined the torch around the darkened bridge as he stepped down off the stalled lift. “What happened? I was on my way up here, and suddenly everything just lost power!”
Kirk briefly filled him in.
“Sounds to me like Mr. Riley hit it right on the head,” Scott said. “I’ll bet two bottles of Scotch that there’s naught in that pod but a huge battery. Probably sent a massive surge of power up along our tractor beam and blew most of our control circuits.”
“So we can bypass the damaged circuits, then?” Kirk pressed.
“Aye,” Scott replied, “there’s probably no damage to the underlying systems. But we’ll have to rig each bypass individually; there’s no way to do ‘em all at once.”
“Scotty, a starliner full of civilians has very likely been hijacked for purposes unknown,” Kirk said, “by people who were clever enough to leave that booby-trapped pod here to keep us from following. We’ve got to get our systems back as soon as possible.”
Scott nodded. “Well then, we’d best get started, sir.”
Under Spock’s direction, Sulu and Riley were breaking out more hand-torches, and Leslie was retrieving the emergency toolkits.
Within minutes, everyone-even Kirk-was underneath a Bridge station trying to bypass its burnt-out control circuitry. In the space of about five minutes, a few emergency lights flickered to life. It was still very dim, but at least they could see without the hand-torches.
Spock was the first one to restore some functionality to his station. He ran it through a few test routines, then reported. “Sciences station restored, Captain.”
“Then let’s take a look outside. Can you run a sensor sweep?” Kirk asked from where he was working at the Auxiliary Navigation station.
“Attempting now,” Spock said as he bent over his scanner. “I have short-range sensors only.” He peered at his readouts. “Nothing has changed in the immediate area. The ion trails we detected earlier are fading, but still present.”
Kirk made one more adjustment, and the Auxiliary Nav station came to life. As he got to his feet to run the station’s test routines, he noticed that Scott was working over a restored Engineering console. “Scotty, what’s our engine status?”
“Warp and impulse engines look all right,” Scott replied, “but until I get down to Engineering and replace some relays she’ll be slow answering her helm.”
While Scott was talking, Sulu got to his feet and started checking out the Helm console. “Helm control restored, Captain.”
The Navigation side of the console, along with the Astrogator, remained dark. Riley was still on his back underneath the panel, and was obviously growing frustrated.
“Mr. Riley, I need Navigation up and running,” Kirk said.
Riley shook his head. “It’s no good, sir, too many of these circuits are burned out to rig a bypass.”
“Then get to the backup Navigation station and plot a course to follow those ion trails.”
“Aye, sir.” Riley got up and went to the backup Navigation station, just starboard of Spock’s Sciences console.
Kirk turned toward Uhura, and noticed that she was already in her chair running functionality tests on her panel. “Lieutenant, is the intercom working yet?”
“No sir, only ship-to-ship communications are available right now.”
“We won’t have intercoms until I can get below and replace some more circuits,” Scott informed him.
“Then we’ll have to use communicators,” Kirk decided. “They would have already started emergency procedures belowdecks, so everyone down there will be carrying one. Uhura, try to get through to Sickbay and find out if there are any casualties.”
“Course plotted and laid in, Captain.” Riley reported.
“Then take us ahead at best speed, Mr. Sulu.” Kirk ordered.
“I’m afraid Warp Five’s the most I can give you at the moment, Captain.” Scott said. “Much faster, and we won’t be able to maintain any kind of maneuverability.”
“A ship like the Nova Olympic could hardly travel faster than Warp Three,” Spock said from his station. “Assuming it’s still moving under its own power, we should be able to overtake it.”
“Going to warp speed now, sir, ” Sulu reported. The deckplates began to thrum with increased power the way they did whenever the warp engines were engaged.
Kirk settled back in his chair and took a quick look around the Bridge. Spock was working his scanner; doing his best to find the Nova Olympic with only short-range sensors. Riley was immediately starboard of him, working the backup Navigation panel, and starboard of him Leslie was ensconced at the Weapons and Defense station. On the other side of the Bridge, Hadley was still tinkering with the Environmental station, and Scott was standing by the Engineering board giving orders via communicator to his repair crews belowdecks. Behind Kirk, Uhura was working with a communicator and a slate, trying to compile damage and casualty reports while still keeping an ear out for any more distress calls. Next to Scott, she probably had the most difficult job at the moment. All Kirk could do was sit back, let his people work, and stare at a the main viewer, which remained stubbornly blank while Scott worked on more important things.
Uhura briefly got up from her station to hand Kirk the slate she’d been working on. “Here are the damage and casualty reports you asked for, sir. Sickbay reports minor injuries only.”
Kirk glanced over the report. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Good work.” He noticed she was also holding a microtape reader. “What’s that?”
“Oh, it’s the Olympic's crew and passenger manifest,” Uhura replied as she offered it to him. “The Brava Centuari office sent it to us when we contacted them earlier.”
Kirk handed the slate back to her and took the reader. He skimmed over the list of names, and suddenly he froze.
Uhura noticed. “Is something wrong, sir?”
Kirk stared at the two names he’d recognized:
Marcus, Carol
Marcus, David
“Carry on, Lieutenant,” he said stiffly.
Uhura was mystified by Kirk’s sudden change in mood, but she responded with an “Aye, sir,” and went back to her station.
Kirk got up from the center seat and started to pace around the Bridge’s perimeter. When he got to Spock, the Vulcan looked up.
“Captain, I’ve been giving the situation some thought,” Spock began.
Kirk realized he was still holding the microtape reader. “So have I,” he murmured as much to himself as to Spock.
“The Nova Olympic is a passenger vessel only,” Spock continued. “No one could possibly mistake it for a freighter carrying valuable cargo, and the ship itself is not sufficiently valuable to warrant such a hijacking. Therefore, whoever attacked and then absconded with the Nova Olympic must be after the only commodity it carries: its passengers.”
Kirk looked out across the Bridge. A few more emergency lights had come on, but things were still dim and shadowy. “So, you’re saying that we’re either dealing with a terrorist group that wants hostages for some reason, or-“ the word caught in his throat.
“Slavers,” Spock said gravely. He noticed the tightening of Kirk’s jaw and his fierce stare at the still-blank viewscreen. “Captain, if I may-“ his voice dropped almost to a whisper “-I realize that the Nova Olympic’s situation is a dire one, but you seem to be exhibiting an unusual level of distress.”
Kirk sighed and showed him the Nova Olympic’s passenger manifest.
When Spock saw Carol Marcus’ name, his eyebrow shot up. “Most . . .unfortunate,” his voice was tinged with the closest thing to regret a Vulcan could permit.
