The war seemed, literally, to have broken out over night. The Federation had little information as to its cause, but Deneb XII was engaged in a full-scale global war. The first action generally taken in such cases was to dispatch a Federation ambassador to the scene as quickly as possible -- ideally, by starship. The U.S.S. Enterprise was on her way to the Denebian colonies at maximum warp.

Ambassadorial receptions were not Dr. McCoy's idea of fun. He was wearing an irritated scowl when he met Kirk and Spock in the corridor en route to the recreation hall where the newly-boarded diplomats would be honored.

They found the rec room crowded with personnel in dress uniform. The long tables in the center were laden with colorfully garnished intergalactic delicacies. McCoy surveyed it all, still frowning as suspiciously as though he were staring at a dangerously mutated bacteria through a biocomp. Kirk prodded him gently as they neared the table. "Why so gloomy, Bones? People will think you've just lost your best patient."

The doctor didn't have time to answer. They were approached by a tall, greying gentleman whom Kirk recognized from their informal meeting in the transporter room some hours before.

"Ambassador Liddeman," Kirk said by way of introduction, "This is my First Officer, Mr. Spock, and ship's surgeon Dr. Leonard McCoy."

The Ambassador smiled amiably. "Gentlemen." He was slowly being joined by the other members of his party, including a gracefully attractive woman whom he introduced as his wife, Sara. "And my associate." He indicated a younger, slighter man to their right. "Ambassador to the Deneb Council, Kurt Hunter."

Hunter bowed, somewhat over-dramatic. "Captain. Gentlemen."

Kirk found himself disliking the tone of address, but did not know why.

"And the last of my valued assistants," Liddeman went on. "This is my secretarial aide, Mr. Trevino, and linguistics officer Lt. Carmen Hale." Trevino, slender, dark-skinned and strikingly handsome, was looking singularly disinterested in the whole affair, but Lt. Hale offered them a slight nod and a brilliant smile. She was blonde, in her twenties, and pleasantly pretty. Kirk wondered briefly if she was Miss or Mrs. Hale, then promptly chased the thought away again.

"Please feel free to partake of the food," he said cordially. "Make yourselves at home."

Liddeman looked genuinely pleased. "Thank you, Captain."

The party members had soon wandered off again into the crowd; Lt. Hale and Trevino together, Hunter to the table and Liddeman and his wife in opposite directions. The ambassador's wife was many years younger than he, and Kirk had been told they'd marred only recently. That much was evident from their behavior whenever they were together.

Spock had approached Ambassador Hunter at the table and McCoy, still wearing his perennial frown, had arrived in time to hear the Vulcan say, "Your research in advanced computer programming has been highly revered, Ambassador. May I congratulate you on your discovery of the Z-12 unit?"

Hunter half-smiled and sipped at his Saurian brandy. "My research is far from complete, I'm afraid. But I thank you for your commendation nonetheless. We do have a great deal of hope for the Z-12."

"What, may I ask, is a Z-12?" McCoy put in.

Inexplicably, Hunter looked pained. "A power unit constructed to synchronize computer program banks, Doctor. If installed in the central brain, it would enable a maximum of three-hundred separate computers to tie in and, in effect, tap the resources of any other unit similarly linked. More or less a large-scale improvement on the brain that controls this ship."

McCoy looked a bit dubious. "Oh. I see. I think."

"The end result," Spock said, "would be one massive computer brain singularly capable of controlling complex systems. Fleets, cities - even entire planets."

McCoy made a face. "I hate to think where all of that leaves us."

"With a great deal less error, I should think," Spock said drily.

"I've heard that story before, Spock. And the last time they turned this ship over to a blasted computer, it nearly wiped out an entire Federation fleet!"

"I am familiar with the incident you describe, Dr. McCoy," Hunter said. "But my device is nothing whatsoever like Daystrom's M-5. Z-12 is not another computer. It is, rather, a mechanical adjunct. A tool."

"Designed to elevate the machines above mankind and leave him twiddling his thumbs while they do all the 'dirty' work? I can appreciate your dedication, Ambassador, but I've always been of the opinion that we should control the computers, and not the other way round."

Hunter smiled reassuringly. "You needn't fear losing your identity or your position to the Z-12, Doctor. There will no doubt always be functions no computer can perform."

"Well amen to that," McCoy breathed. "They'll never invent the machine that can take a safe blood sample, or perform major surgery."

"Then I fail to see the basis of your objection, Doctor," Spock commented. "Ambassador Hunter has just admitted that no known computer is capable of performing such functions."

"It's the principal, Spock. We've been struggling to stay out of the computer's shadow for over two-hundred years, and for two-hundred years the computer has been striving to control us."

"An illogical conclusion, Doctor," Spock said matter-of-factly. "The argument is non sequitur."

"I should have known," McCoy said to the ceiling. "I should've known better than to argue with him. He was born with printed circuits between his pointed ears!"

Hunter smiled thinly, but made no comment. Spock was ignoring the statement altogether.

Kirk had been about to join them when the shrill whine of the intercom sounded and Sulu's voice said, "Bridge to Captain Kirk."

"Kirk here," he answered, punching the send button.

"Captain, we've drifted three degrees off course for Deneb XII."

"Well, have Mr. Chekov correct for drift and keep our proper course laid in."

"We did, sir. We're still three degrees off course."

Kirk looked puzzled. "Call Mr. Scott to the bridge. Have him look it over and report back to me here. I'll be up thore as soon as I'm free."

"Aye-aye sir."

"Kirk out."

The reception dragged on for over an hour before Liddeman and his wife departed for their quarters. The moment he could take his leave, Kirk headed for the bridge, accompanied by Spock, McCoy and the lovely Lt. Hale, who'd been conversing with the doctor for some time about the physiology of Deneb XlI's inhabitants.

They were met on the bridge by Engineer Scott, who was wearing a rather peculiar expression; something between an amused smirk and a suspicious scowl.

"'What's the problem?" Kirk wanted to know.

Spock was already headed for his computer station and Scott had moved down to the command chair with Kirk. "I think ye may recall runnin' inta this problem before, Captain."

"What problem?" Kirk took the chair, feeling very much out of place on the bridge in dress uniform.

"Computer malfunction," Scott said noncomitally.

Chekov said, "Now five degrees off course, sir."

Kirk punched the tie-in control and said, "Computer." There was no response. He pushed again. "Computer, designate cause of drift from designated course."

Still no response.

Behind him, Spock's voice said, "Fascinating."

Kirk turned. "What's the matter with it?"

Spock pressed a series of relay switches and said to the panel, "Computer, respond on primary level."

After a moment, the usually toneless voice of the computer cooed passionately, "Working, dear."

Spock's brows went up. Kirk looked ill and moaned, "Oh no. Not again!"

A ripple of laughter went over the bridge, and Lt. Hale gave McCoy an inquisitive stare. "This has happened before?"

Still smiling, McCoy said, "Oh yes. Nothing difficult to correct, as I understand it, but it is good for laughs. The last time, as I recall, it developed a severe case of 'school girl crush' for Captain Kirk." Another ripple of stifled laughter.

Kirk didn't look amused. "Computer," he repeated, "we are five degrees off course. You will correct for drift-error and lay in course on the co-ordinstes previously set. Compute."

With a voice like maple syrup, the machine said, "Unable to comply, dear."

Kirk took a deep breath and counted ten mentally.

McCoy was still chuckling. "Now that's what I call progress," he chided. "Humanizing the mechanisms instead of mechanizing the human beings."

"Ach, well, it's outa my department," Scott proclaimed with a sweep of the hand. "If ye've no objection, Captain, I'll be lookin' after the engines."

Kirk waved him out as Spock said to the panel, "Explain non-compliance to correct for drift."

"There has been no drift," the machine replied with a ring of offense at the accusation.

Spock looked up. "Mr. Chekov, cite co-ordinates for Deneb XII."

"357, 420 mark 1, sir."

"Computer, cite current heading of the Enterprise."

"....364, 420 mark 1...."

"You are now seven degrees off course."

The voice carried a definite hint of umbrage. "Negative."

"Explain."

"Ship's designated heading is 364, 420 mark 1," the computer insisted.

Spock thought a moment, then said to the panel, "Cite previous course."

Without hesitation, it answered, "357, 420 mark 1. Planet Deneb XII."

Kirk came out of the chair and up to Spock's station all in one motion. "Computer, are you saying our course has been altered, deliberately, without my authorization?"

Silence.

Spock said, "Computer, identify individual responsible for course alteration."

Almost coyly, it replied, "Information requested has been placed under voice-lock control."

Kirk punched the voice-lock tab angrily. "This is Captain James T. Kirk. Computer, you will abort current heading and set course at 357, 420 mark 1. You will then override voice-lock control and identify party responsible for course change. Compute."

Again, the sugar and saccharine reply was, "Unable to comply, dear."

Uhura said, "Captain, Ambassador Liddeman is calling from his quarters. He... sounds upset, sir."

Kirk activated the small screen over Spock's station and seconds later the ambassador swam into view there.

"Kirk, what is going on here?" he demanded. "Your ship's computers are malfunctioning and this ship is off course for Deneb XII. If this is some sort of joke..."

"No joke, Mr, Ambassador," Kirk said wearily. "We're making every effort to correct the error. Everything should be back in order shortly."

"I expect so."

"We'll do our best, sir. Kirk out. Mr. Chekov," he said tiredly, "just out of curiosity, what lies at 364, 420 mark 1?"

The navigator consulted his panel and said at length, "Absolutely nothing, sir. At least, nothing that we know of..."

Kirk scowled, "Then why? Who'd went to change our course toward an empty region of space?" When no one had an answer for that, Kirk headed for the turbolift, turning back to say, "Mr. Spock, see what you can do with the computer system. Take it apart piece by piece if you have to, but repair it. Lt. Uhura, get me a full scale run-down on every member of the ambassador's party. I want to know who had formal training in computer technology and who didn't. Notify Starfleet Command of the malfunction; tell them we may be delayed arriving at Deneb XII. Mr. Chekov, Mr. Sulu, you'll both assist Mr. Spock. If you have to disengage the helm and put us on manual, I want this ship back on course! Mr. Spock, you have the con; I'll be in my quarters."

McCoy and Lt. Hale followed him into the turbolift and the doors snapped shut after them. Kirk said, "Deck five."

Lt. Hale looked displeased. "May I ask you something, Captain?"

Kirk nodded affirmation.

"Why the investigation of the ambassador's party?"

"In the event of suspected sabotage, the routine investigation of all newly boarded personnel is required by regulation, lieutenant. You know that."

"Is not an investigation of the ship's complement also regulation."

"I'll carry out any and all Starfleet regulations required of me in my own good time," Kirk said flatly. The turbolift doors whispered open to deck five and he was quickly gone.

Six hours crawled by. The Enterprise was on a new, unauthorized heading, and Spock -- to Kirk's dismay -- had been unable to disengage the computer control.

Kirk called a conference in the briefing room that included each of his senior officers, hoping that, through their reports, he might be able to clear up at least some portion of the mystery. Chekov was called upon first, but had nothing new to say beyond the observation that the ship was heading, so far as he knew, for a perfectly empty area of space.

Kirk asked Scott for engine status, and the chief engineer leaned forward, frowning. "The computer's locked us inta a sustained warp nine speed, Captain. An' we're in trouble." He shook his head, "I've jury-rigged the warp drive with everythin' I could get mah hands on, but ah can't get around the computer control. I can bypass for a few minutes, but that's all. We can't sustain this high a warp fer more than three more hours on the outside. Not without breakin' up altogether..."

"It is beyond dispute that the computer circuitry has been altered to bring about disastrous results," Spock stated. "In its current state, there appears to be no way we can override its programming, unless we succeed in breaking voice-lock. However, only the individual responsible can disengage the control, and unfortunately, we cannot obtain that identity from the computer. Whoever re-programmed the system was well aware of what he was doing, and why."

Kirk paused for a moment, then said, "I can assume, then, that this reprogramming is of a highly specialized nature?"

Spock nodded. "By all means."

"Then very few individuals aboard would possess adequate knowledge required to accomplish it."

"Indeed. To my knowledge," Spock said s1owly, "there are only three such individuals aboard. Ambassador Hunter is a noted specialist in computer circuitry. Lt. Hale, as a linguistics expert, has had training in certain aspects of the field. The third party is, of course, myself."

"Yes, well, assuming that it's relatively safe to rule you out, Mr. Spock, that leaves us with a question of motive." He turned to Uhura. "Lieutenant?"

Uhura lifted a clipboard from the table and read from it. "Matthew J. Liddeman, Federation Ambassador to the Deneb Colonies, graduated UFP University of Earth stardate l025.9. No formal training in computer technology.

"Sara Liddeman, nee Coleridge, wed to Ambassador Liddeman stardate 3824.4. Degree of education received at University of the Ages, planet Altaire IV, 1109.3. No formal training in computer technology.

"Anton Trevino, secretarial aide to Ambassador Liddeman, schooled Starfleet Academy 1190.2. No computer experience.

"Lt. Allison Carmen Hale, linguist with degree from Starfleet Academy 1203.6, specialist in Denebian tongues. Experienced in computer programming. Probably insignificant knowledge to accomplish said sabotage.

"Kurt Arthur Hunter, Federation Ambassador to Deneb XII, graduated from Starf leet Academy in computer programming. UFP University stardate 1012.7 with degree in computer science. Experience -- extensive."

There was a long silence before Spock said, "We must remember, however, that these very facts were by necessity drawn from the computer banks, and that in its present state it is not to be relied upon as an infallible source. Whoever altered the system will undoubtedly have taken measures to protect himself from any and all forms of detection."

Kirk rose. "I want a 24 hour watch placed on every member of the ambassador's party. Scotty, keep trying to bypass the computer tie-in. Break us out of warp speed altogether if you have to. Mr. Spock..."

"I shall continue my attempt to override voice-lock. However..."

He was interrupted by the whistle of the intercom and the urgent voice of a security said, "Captain Kirk, please come to the Ambassador's quarters; we have an emergency. Repeat..."

But the captain and first officer were already out the door and gone.

They met McCoy in the corridor. Kirk said, "What's going on?" Ahead of them, he could see a team of medics entering the guest quarters.

"It's Ambassador Liddeman, McCoy said in a noticeably controlled tone. "I'm afraid he's dead, Jim."

Kirk blinked in disbelief. "He's what?"

McCoy's voice rose slightly. "He was stabbed to death. I walked in on Hunter not ten seconds after it happened."

"Hunter?"

"Still standing over the body. But he had time to ditch the weapon somewhere, probably there in the room..."

"Where is he?"

McCoy inclined his head toward the room. "Still there."

"And Mrs. Liddeman?"

"She's on her way to sickbay, in shock... I hit Hunter with a hypo too. He oughta be unconscious in there by now. Mrs. Liddeman found me in the lab earlier. She said the ambassador hadn't been feeling well, wanted to know if I'd come back with her and take a look at him. When we walked in..." He broke off.

Kirk went around him and into the room just as an anonymous-looking sheet-covered stretcher was wheeled out and down the corridor. Spock remained beside McCoy, who commented drily, "I keep wondering why a man like Hunter would want to do all of this."

"Human motive is a most difficult thing to discern," Spock noted.

"And what about that damned computer? Haven't you pulled its plug out yet?"

"At the moment, Doctor, it is far less predictable than Ambassador Hunter's motive."

"A computer that thinks as irrationally as a human." McCoy grimaced. "Good Lord, what a nightmare."

Spock was staring at him oddly. "It is possible, however, that human irrationality might, at times, have its advantages."

McCoy blinked at him. "Did I hear you right?"

The Vulcan nodded. "If you will excusc me, Doctor, I believe I may have a solution to our problem."

He started down the hall and McCoy called after him, "Well it's about time!"

Two medics carried an unconscious Hunter out of the room and Kirk followed close behind. "Take him to the brig," he told them. "And when he comes to, I want to know about it. Bones... where's Spock?'

"Off solving our problems. He didn't say where. I'm due in sickbay, Jim."

"Fine. I'll be on the bridge. You can report to me there." And he disappeared swiftly down the corridor.

From the bridge, Kirk ordered Scott to try overriding the computer control momentarily and disengaging warp engines. At sublight speed, he hoped there was a chance they could correct their course. If nothing else, it was worth a try.

Spock was absent from his station, a matter Kirk overlooked for the moment. He was probably attacking a computer panel somewhere with another de-programming scheme.

"Ready to de-activate warp drive," Scott's voice said from the intercom.

"Have you bypassed the computer?"

"Nae, Captain, not completely. Ah think we can give it a good fight, but we'll have to take it slow. If ah cut off warp drive all at once..."

"Understood, Scotty." Kirk signed off and said, "De-accelerate to warp factor eight, Mr. Sulu."

"Aye, sir." The helmsman made the adjustments and immediately the straining throb of the engines resounded from the lower levels. Sulu said, "Helm is resisting, but we're slowing down. Warp eight."

"Cut to warp seven."

"Factor seven." Sulu pressed a control and the throb grew into a faint, grinding whine. The deck began to vibrate beneath Kirk's feet.

"Factor five, Lt. Sulu."

"Warp five," Sulu called back, and after a moment, "She's not responding!"

"Cut warp drive," Kirk shouted. "Take us out of warp, Mr. Sulu!"

Sulu hit the switches and clutched at the panel with both hands when the deck tilted violently sideways. The warp engines squealed sickeningly. Kirk somehow managed to keep hold of the command chair as they leveled off again and the whine died slowly away. By comparison, the continuous bleep of the indicators under the viewscreen sounded like a lullaby.

"It's no good," Sulu said wearily. "The computer has reinstated warp 9."

Kirk punched the intercom with a clenched fist. "Scotty," he said, "What happened?"

A string of half-perceptible adjectives preceded Scott's answer. "It's that bloody computer again," he ranted. "I'm sorry, Captain, but we canna override the circuitry. Not when it's designed ta run the ship."

"All right, Scotty. Stand by. We may have to try again."

"Captain," Chekov said suddenly. "Something just came into sensor range directly on our course heading. It's... It's an asteroid, sir."

Kirk frowned. "Moving in this direction?"

Chekov turned to look at him, alarmed. "We're on a collision course, sir.'"

"Deflectors."

Sulu made a fast check of his board. "Sir, the computer has shut down primary deflector systems. Phasers are also inoperative."

Kirk pushed the tie-in control. "Computer!"

"Working, dear."

"Activate deflectors. Repeat, activate deflectors immediately!"

"Unable to comply, dear."

Frustrated, Kirk breathed, "Explain."

"Phaser and deflector systems have been deactivated. All subsequent information regarding programming for said maneuver and shut-down has been placed under voice-lock control and is..."

"Cancel!" Kirk kept his voice level with extreme effort. "Time to point of contact with the asteroid, Mr. Chekov?"

"Thirty-seven minutes, sir."

Kirk hit the intercom. "Kirk to brig. Get a medic down there and bring Mr. Hunter around. I want him awake and talking in 5 minutes. Kirk out."

When McCoy arrived in sickbay, he found Nurse Christine Chapel staring curiously at the scanner over Sara Liddeman. "Something the matter, Nurse?"

"Doctor, look at the readings."

McCoy glanced up at the scanner and frowned. "What in the name of...?" He took a medical tricorder from the side table and ran it over the unconscious woman, snapping it off again with a look of dismay clouding his face. "Get me two CC's of cylenadrine."

Nurse Chapel vanished and returned seconds later with the hypospray. There was a brief hiss as McCoy injectcd it and looked back at the scanner. It pulsed sluggishly and the indicators were slipping downward.

"Blood poisoning," he said grimly. "I don't recognize the toxin, but I'm willing to bet it was self-inflicted."

Miss Chapel shook her head. "I don't understand. Cyleradrine isn't effective on humans. It's a universal Klingon antidote for..."

McCoy looked at her. "Bring me a respirator. And you'd better hurry."

Nurse Chapel vanished again. McCoy gazed down at his patient and said softly, "No wonder you wanted to keep this ship from reaching Deneb XII."

The brig was a dim, utilitarian section that Kirk had never enjoyed having to employ. He faced Hunter through the electrical force field and wondered sadly whether there could be any doubt about what McCoy had seen.

"There's been a most regrettable error," Hunter insisted, still trying to be as diplomatic as possible. "I swear to you, Captain, I was called to that cabin."

"By whom?"

"By Mrs. Liddeman. When I arrived, she was gone and the ambassador... the ambassador was dead." He shook his head in disbelief. "I know how it must have looked, but.. I'm not a murderer, Captain. Believe me , I..."

The intercom whistled and said, "Sickbay to Captain Kirk."

He pushed it on. "Kirk here. Go ahead, Doctor."

"We just lost our patient, Jim. Mrs. Liddeman..."

"Lost her? How?"

"Self-inflicted blood poisoning. We don't know yet what kind. But my scanners showed me one thing I'm willing to bet the ambassador himself didn't even know."

"What's that?"

"Mrs. Wddeman was a Klingon."

Kirk's only answer was an awed silence.

"It all fits, Jim. The Klingons want to promote the Deneb war, so they planted a spy in a position perfect for preventing negotiations -- as the wife of a diplomatic deligate. The ambassador must have found out about it, and forced her hand."

"She killed him?"

"It would seem so. Typical Klingon suicidal disruption tactics."

"Why go to all the trouble of making Hunter look guilty then?"
 

"So we couldn't force her to de-program the computer. They intended to destroy the Enterprise."

"They still may." Kirk scowled. "I'll talk to you later, Bones." He pushed the send button again. "Kirk to bridge. Status, Mr. Sulu."

"Twenty minutes to contact."

"Notify Mr. Scott that we'll try and alter course again, on my order. I'll be right up." He turned back to Hunter and motioned for the guard to let down the restraining force field. "Mr. Ambassador, I think we owe you an apology."

Hunter started to reply, but the captain was already on his way out.

When he came onto the bridge, Kirk was immediately aware of two things; that the asteroid was now visible on the screen, magnified to a threatening proximity, and that Spock was still absent from his station.

"Lt. Uhura, have you located Mr. Spock?"

"Yes sir. He's been reported in recreation room 13."

"What the devil is he doing there?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Sixteen minutes to impact," Sulu said from the helm.

Kirk opened the intercom again. "Scotty, prepare to override computer control and cross-circuit. We're going to try again."

"Ready," Scott's voice answered.

"All right." Kirk braced himself. "Do it, Mr. Scott."

"Overriding and cross-circuiting, Captain."

"Cut to warp eight, Mr. Sulu." The helmsman obeyed, but looked up again.

"Sir, we're accelerating to warp 10."

Kirk sat up. "What? That's impossible!"

"It's the computer, Captain It's broken the override." Sulu rattled the switch uselessly. "We can't bypass."

"Scotty," Kirk looked at the looming asteroid on the screen. "Try cross circuiting again. We're still in trouble up here."

"It's no good, Captain," the intercom answered him. "She won't respond to override. That beastly machine is onto us."

Kirk stared at the screen, defeated. "Then see if you can give me deflectors, Scotty. Or phasers. Anything!"

"Aye. I'll try. But..."

Sulu's chronometer read 13 minutes to impact. Kirk sat back and watched the numbers click off. The black, rocky object on the viewscreen was speeding closer to them with every second...

Recreation room 13 contained more off-duty crewmen than Dr. McCoy thought usual, and upon entering, he realized why. At a table in the rear of' the crowded room, Spock was sitting before the tiered 3-dimensional chess set with a black knight poised to complete its move. He put it down, stating, knight to rook's four, level one."

McCoy made his way to the edge of the table just as the metallic voice of the computer, far more emotional than usual, responded, "Pawn to bishop's three, level one."

Spock executed the computer's move as McCoy said, "What the blazes is going on in here?"

"The solution, Doctor." Spock was studying the board carefully. "One I must confess I arrived upon by accident."

McCoy scowled. "That damnable machine has us set to hit head on with an asteroid any minute, and you sit here playing games with it again? You know, if you hadn't done this once before, I'd swear you'd lost your mind. Only it worked last time, didn't it?"

"Precisely, Doctor. It was, in fact, your own statement earlier which inspired this particular method." Spock said calmly.

"Method? What method?"

"The saboteur has re-programmed the computer to respond exclusively on a human emotional level. As such, it is equally succeptible to human weaknesses. And one of those, as I recall, is the insatiable human weakness for making wagers on the outcome of various games and events."

McCoy stared at him inquisitively, but for once, said nothing.

"The computer, as you know, Doctor, is infallible at chess when in proper working condition. It cannot lose. However..." He lifted another chess piece, raised it one level and set it down again. "Observe. Queen to queen's pawn, level two."

There was a pause, then Spock said blandly, "Checkmate."

The computer clicked for a moment, then fell silent. The spectators broke into spontaneous applause, and McCoy thought Spock looked rather pleased with himself in spite of his Vulcan restraint.

"All right," the ship's doctor grumbled. "Now would some one kindly tell me what's going on?"

Spock faced the lighted panel and said, "Computer."

"Working."

"An agreement was made regarding the outcome of this match, was it not?"

"Affirmative."

"You will now honor the conditions as per that agreement."

Click click click.

"Computer -- has specified condition been met?"

For a heartbeat, the machine was silent. Then, flatly, it said, "Affirmative."

Hunter, Trevino and Lt. Hale had come onto the bridge with Kirk's consent, and were watching the threatening asteroid approach on the viewscreen.

Countdown to impact was nearing ten seconds when Sulu's board lit up and the helmsman cried, "Captain, the computer's shutting down! I have manual control!"

"Twelve seconds to impact," Chekov said breathlessly.

Kirk went to the helm. "Change course," he said quickly. "Veer us off to starboard, Mr. Sulu."

"She's moving, sir. But she's sluggish." He looked up at the screen, dark with the image of the asteroid. "It's too slow!"

"Ten... Nine..."

"Weapons?"

"Phasers operative," Sulu answered. "But we're too close for..."

"Seven... Six..."
 

"Fire full phasers, Mr. Sulu!"

All eyes were on the screen as Sulu hit the firing control and a streak of brilliant blue shot out toward the hurtling asteroid. The screen went white as they were pitched backward with the impact of the explosion. The warp engines moaned. Sulu fought the controls until they were level again, then shouted, "Veering off, Captain! Reduced to warp 6...5... Warp 3, sir."

Kirk helped a shaken Lt. Hale to her feet as the groan of the engines died away. "Mr. Sulu, get us back on course. Notify Mr. Scott I want warp 6 or better ; we're behind schedule for Deneb XII. Mr. Ambassador," he said to Hunter. "If you'll excuse me... I have a first officer to locate."

"I still don't believe it," McCoy was saying moments later. "But he made a bet with that thing that he could beat it at a game of chess... and won."

"And the stakes were control of the ship." Kirk smiled. Spock, who was busy replacing the chess pieces, made no immediate comment. "Well, Mr. Spock," Kirk told him, "it appears we are in your debt. Again. But I trust you won't be too... overcome... with your success to return to duty on the bridge?"

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. "Not at all, Captain."

"Good." They rose to go, but Kirk, still smiling, turned back and addressed the computer. "And as for you, you tin-plated traitor... The next time you decide to commandeer my ship, I'll trade you in on a twentieth century IBM museum piece! Compute??"

Laughing, he turned to join Spock at the door, but both stopped again as a clicking whir sounded from the machine at the table. In a voice like honey, dripping with misplaced, sentimental affection, it cooed, "Computed, dear!"