Perhaps Any Sufficiently Advanced Magic is Indistinguishable from Technology...

I can feel the headache that has been lurking behind my eyes all day growing bigger. First, there was that obnoxious, overbearing bureaucrat Barris to deal with, then the Klingons, and now... Now this weirdly assorted group of (if Spock's findings are to be believed, and they always are), inter-dimensional time travelers sitting here calmly explaining to us that the only reason they can survive in our universe is due to the existence of magic. Magic! And, worst of all, my cool, logical, scientific-minded First Officer is calmly taking it all in and gravely nodding his head, as if it all makes some sort of sense to him!

"Spock," I say, not bothering to hide my incredulity. I've played the diplomat enough for one day. "You don't actually... believe in this, do you?"

"On the contrary," says Spock, unperturbable as ever. "I find that it makes a great deal of sense."

"But... magic?"

"Consider, Captain. We have encountered any number of phenomena unexplainable by any scientific means at our disposal. One of your Earth men, a 20th-century writer by the name of Arthur C. Clarke, posited that any sufficiently advanced techonology would be indistinguishable from magic. It is entirely possible that the converse is actually the case, and that what we have assumed to be advanced technology is, in fact, magical in origin."

I pinch my eyes together. That headache is definitely getting worse. "All right, Spock." I wave my hand vaguely in his direction, as if I could somehow brush away his words with a gesture. "Never mind. The... metaphysics... of the situation doesn't matter. The question is, what are we going to do with..."

"Kirk! You can't possibly be taking this seriously!" The outburst comes from Nilz Barris. Of course. He's been so uncharacteristicaly quiet for the last few minutes, that I've almost been able to forget he was here. Unfortunately, he is.

"Mr. Barris..." I begin, but he cuts me off.

"I demand that you cease this, this nonsense immediately and release my aide from custody!"

"Your aide," says one of the time-travellers, a florid-faced man in a Starfleet uniform, "is a Klingon spy!"

"Ridiculous! You have no proof of that!"

"In fact," says Spock dryly. "We have." He calls up some data on his tricorder and hands it to Barris. "The results of our medical scans. As you can see, the physiology is quite clearly Klingon."

Barris goes pale and suddenly becomes very quiet. It almost makes my headache seem worthwhile.

1. "As I was saying," I continue, "The important issue is what we are going to do with Darvin... with both Darvins."

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