“But which outsider is really trying to weaken us?” Zylnas boomed. “You say, Surima, that you will punish the culprits in the Naraga massacre. Well, we can identify them!”
While Surima quelled the resulting outburst from the crowd, Zylnas called in an aide carrying a long, narrow case. Once the noise had diminished sufficiently, he and the aide stepped forward to face Surima on the debate floor, the aide laying the case on one of the low tables that flanked it. “As I said, this assault was an outrage to all Acamarians, so the Lornak clan offered its assistance in the investigation. Our search divers found this weapon and two others like it dumped in Naraga Bay.” At his gesture, the aide opened the case.
Inside it was the unmistakable, triple-barreled shape of a Starfleet phaser rifle.
This time, it took more of an effort for Surima to quiet the crowd. Koloth crossed his arms and directed a smug smile Kirk’s way. Kirk merely kept his own counsel, thinking.
“Our scientists have tested the weapons,” Zylnas went on. “We will freely make our data available to all. The tests confirm that these are phased nadion rifles of Starfleet manufacture . . . and that their energy signatures match the blast damage at the hospital!”
It took even longer for the next outburst to subside, but Kirk let the noise and fury flow past him. Finally, Surima gave him the chance to respond. “Captain Kirk, do you wish to comment on this allegation?”
Grateful that the uproar had given him time to think through his response, Kirk spoke calmly. “I have no doubt that the Lornak scientists did their work diligently and in good faith. However, I can add one thing to their findings: That rifle is of a model that Starfleet discontinued nearly two years ago. It was, however, in use during several of our past conflicts with the Klingon Empire. They captured many of our armaments during those conflicts, as we did theirs.
“And if we had committed an atrocity on your soil and sought to destroy the evidence, we would simply have beamed the weapons away or set them to self-destruct, not simply dumped them where you could find them.”
“If your troops had committed the massacre themselves, no,” Koloth countered. “But you yourself just accused us of providing arms to local factions. You might well have done the same—in which case you would surely have given them obsolete models that you no longer needed.”
“But what would we gain by it? We are not the ones who would profit from greater conflict between Acamar’s clans.”
“Yet this was a crime that all of Acamar’s clans are united in condemning,” the dapper Klingon continued, pacing the debate floor and addressing the assembled crowd. “It has brought them closer to agreement than they have been in a long time. The Interclan Alliance capitalized on that sympathy to organize this peace conference that you so proudly endorse.” Koloth ended up facing Kirk. “Convenient for the Federation, is it not?”
The mood of the room was clearly beginning to turn against the Starfleet party now. Khorasani rose and began to step closer to Kirk, but he held her back with a gesture. Even Surima looked unsure. “Captain Kirk,” she said, “do you wish to request a recess so that you may review the evidence and prepare a response?”
Kirk took a few moments to consider her words. “Thank you, Chieftain . . . but no. That will not be necessary.”
The spectators reacted with surprise and Koloth with a smug look of triumph, but Kirk disregarded them, stepping forward confidently onto the debate floor. “I could attempt to prove to you what I know—that this is a ploy by the Klingon Empire to discredit the Federation. I could ask you to put your peace negotiations on hold so that I could defend Starfleet’s integrity and honor. But I won’t—because that would merely be a distraction.
“Ultimately, this debate is not about what the Federation did or did not do. It’s not about what the Klingons did or didn’t do in the past, or what they might do in the future. It’s about the Acamarians and what you will do. It’s about whether you remain bound by your ancient tradition of blood feuds . . . or find a new path, a better path of your own choosing.
“With this charge against us, you’re being offered a temptation—an excuse to fall back on the easy, familiar path you’ve followed for so long, to act on the old, comfortable reflexes of rage and revenge, and in so doing, abandon the more difficult, challenging, courageous effort to build a new way of living. It’s always easy to give in to that temptation, which is why it must be looked on with skepticism when it’s offered.
“Captain Koloth wants to make this debate about us, about the Federation and the Klingon Empire—because that is what serves his agenda, never mind what serves the Acamarians. In his mind, you are nothing but pawns in the ongoing game between the Empire and the Federation. But I will not play that game here. I will not ask you to set aside this conference’s rightful focus on the people of Acamar, and on the future you wish to create. I and my crew are here to support your initiative and your courage . . . and we will respect the decisions that you make.”
The mood in the room was uneasy after Kirk finished. The clan leaders murmured to one another for several moments, and at last Surima spoke. “In any case, Captains, you have both left us much to think about. As your continued presence might be . . . disruptive, we request that you both withdraw while we debate the matter among ourselves.”
As Kirk led his party from the room, he wondered if he had made a serious mistake by refusing to counter the charges. It had felt like the right play, an expression of trust in the Acamarians’ better natures to inspire them to live up to the same. But what if their need for revenge against any perceived slight was too great? What if, by offering no defense, he had ceded the victory to Koloth?
U.S.S. Sacagawea
“Acamar owes you a debt of gratitude, Captain Kirk.”
Chieftain Surima smiled at Kirk over the bridge viewscreen. “Ignoring the accusation against you was a bold move, and a successful one. By showing that you did not take the charge seriously, you made it easier for me to convince the independent clans that it was false. Had you been guilty, you would have tried much harder to persuade us of your innocence. Much as Koloth is still attempting to persuade us of his, though mainly by casting further aspersions upon Starfleet.”
Kirk smiled back, standing before his command chair as a gesture of respect. “I did what seemed right in the moment, Chieftain, but I’m certain I have your own persuasive skills to thank as well.”
“Don’t undervalue yourself, Captain. Your gesture had another, even more striking impact. You declined to fight in defense of your people’s honor . . . and you made it a victory to do so. That was a potent advertisement for the principles the Alliance represents.”
The captain thought for a moment. “A great philosopher on our world, a champion of peace and nonviolence, once said, ‘If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.’ To many people over the ages, this has sounded like mere surrender, an invitation to further abuse. But in the culture that ruled over his people, a backhand strike with the right hand was used to assert dominance over an inferior, while a forehand slap was used between equals.”
Surima nodded in understanding. “So by turning the left cheek toward them, you denied them the ability to treat you as an inferior. You resisted and defied them without aggression. This is very deft. I take it you are a follower of this philosopher?”
“Let’s just say that I respect many of his teachings, and those of others like him throughout history. We have found that truth comes from many teachers.”
“I shall remember that. Again, my thanks, Captain Kirk. You have helped to keep this peace conference alive. It may be many years yet before we finally unite and end the violence, but I am surer than ever that it will one day happen. And on that day, I hope you and I are both present to witness it.”
Once Surima said her farewells and the screen went dark, Gary Mitchell gave Kirk a skeptical look. “I know you love your books, Captain, but I doubt you were thinking of the Sermon on the Mount whe
n you pulled that little gambit on Koloth down there.”
“No, I wasn’t.” Kirk sat down in the center seat and crossed his legs. “If anything, I was thinking more of Polonius.”
Mitchell stared. “The guy Hamlet stabbed behind a curtain?”
Kirk nodded. “ ‘This above all: to thine own self be true.’ The last time I faced the Klingons, at Shinohara’s World, I tried to beat them at their own game, to out-Klingon them, and that just gave them the edge. So this time, I tried to be true to my own principles. My own belief in peace, and in the Acamarians’ right to self-determination.” He shrugged. “And that let me go somewhere that Koloth, for all his pretentions of tact and diplomacy, didn’t know how to follow.” Commodore Lam had been right—thinking like a soldier wasn’t always the answer. Or rather, a true soldier used every available means to protect the peace, and force was not always the appropriate tool.
Mehran Egdor smiled at Kirk. “You were right to trust your instincts, Captain,” the first officer said. “Even if your inspirations were merely human.”
Kirk smiled back. “We’ve been known to get it right every once in a while.”
“Captain,” Elena Yu reported from the science station, “I’ve detected a transporter signal from the surface to the Klingon cruiser, and the cruiser is now thrusting to break orbit.”
“Hmm,” Egdor said. “I’d say Captain Koloth is no longer welcome on Acamar III.”
“That’s fine with me, sir,” Azadeh Khorasani said. “If I never see that Koloth again, it’ll be too soon.”
Mitchell stared at her. “I thought you had nothing against Klingons.”
“Not as a race. That doesn’t mean I have to like them all as individuals. I can respect a Klingon who’s making a forthright, honest attempt to kill me. But that guy’s all smarm and insincerity. He sets my teeth on edge. So good riddance to him.”
Though Kirk kept it to himself, he found he couldn’t agree with Khorasani’s words. He’d rather enjoyed his battle of wits with Koloth. It was a refreshing change of pace from his previous, more visceral conflicts with the Klingons.
Maybe someday, he thought, we’ll have a rematch.
ENTERPRISE
2265
Four
[A] starship also runs on loyalty to one man.
—Spock
U.S.S. Enterprise
One perquisite of commanding a ship as large as the Enterprise was that Kirk was now assigned his own personal yeoman to handle much of his everyday business such as filing and organizing logs, reviewing department reports, and so forth. His yeoman, a young enlisted man named Aaron Maynard, also served as a personal valet of sorts, taking care of the captain’s meals, readying his uniforms, and otherwise managing his everyday concerns. Kirk was ambivalent about this; while he appreciated being freed from the distractions of such quotidian matters so that he could focus fully on his command responsibilities, his parents had raised him to be self-reliant and hard-working, to give to others rather than take from them. It was difficult to adjust to letting someone else tend to his personal needs.
Another consequence of having a yeoman to handle the paperwork was that the Enterprise had no ready room adjoining the bridge. Essentially, the bridge itself was the captain’s office, while Yeoman Maynard had his own workstation on deck five, adjacent to Kirk’s quarters. This arrangement sat better with Kirk, who had made little use of his ready room aboard the Sacagawea, except when the need for private conversations arose. On the Enterprise, Kirk supposed he could use his quarters or any of the ship’s briefing rooms for such a purpose. Even a turbolift would do in a pinch.
For now, the last thing Kirk wanted was a private space in which to retreat from the rest of the ship. He preferred being out among the crew, getting to know them and the vessel they operated, forming a bond with the people he would be leading over the years to come. Naturally, that meant forming a bond with his first officer, a captain’s main point of contact with his crew. Though Kirk had initially hoped to promote Gary Mitchell to the post, he was grateful to have an executive officer like Lieutenant Commander Spock, who had spent eleven years aboard the Enterprise and knew the vessel intimately. As a young captain finding his way aboard the Sacagawea, Kirk had benefited greatly from the seasoning and experience of both his first officers. He hoped he could learn just as much from Mister Spock. He knew the man was only a few years older than himself and had been an upperclassman when Kirk had entered the Academy, but Spock had already accumulated achievements well beyond his years. Kirk hoped that would give them common ground to build on.
“But most of your achievements have been aboard this ship,” Kirk said to Spock as the latter led the former on a familiarization tour of the Enterprise’s engineering section, filling the new captain in on the vessel’s unique modifications and idiosyncrasies. Normally the chief engineer would have handled this, but Commander Scott was still en route from his last assignment, and Spock had been aboard long enough to have an intimate knowledge of every system—particularly the engineering control computers they were currently surveying, multiple large mainframe units arrayed in parallel rows in this portion of the engineering hull’s cavernous lower levels. “Eleven years is a long time to spend in one place. With your record, you could have easily put in for promotion to your own command. I appreciate that you chose to remain aboard and show me the ropes.”
Spock raised a brow. “ ‘Ropes,’ Captain? A vessel of this advancement requires no such primitive mechanisms for its operation.”
Kirk stared at him. “Pardon me, Mister Spock, but is that some form of Vulcan humor? Surely after serving with a mostly human crew for so long, you’ve heard people using antique nautical metaphors before.”
“I am aware of the human fondness for deliberate imprecision, Captain Kirk,” the other man replied stiffly. “I do not, however, choose to participate in it. My responsibility as science officer is to strive for accuracy at all times.”
And Gary says I’m stiff and humorless, Kirk thought. But who knows? It might be refreshing not to be the most serious one in the room.
Spock led Kirk into the adjacent main energizer monitor section, housing the circuits that channeled power from the warp engines into the starship’s systems. “In response to your observation, Captain,” the first officer went on, “I have no interest in pursuing a command position. I am a scientist first. That is the role for which my skills are best suited. As for why I remained aboard the Enterprise, it was Captain Pike’s preference that I do so. It is a logical choice, for as you say, I have more experience with this vessel than any remaining member of its complement. And the passage of time does not concern me. I do not seek change for the sake of change. I am suited for my current position, as it is for me. Additionally, as a Vulcan, I have a significantly greater life expectancy than a human. Eleven years is thus proportionately a less significant interval of my projected lifespan.”
Kirk blinked. “I see. So it’s basically irrelevant to you who’s actually commanding the ship.”
“That is essentially correct, sir, as long as said commanding officer performs competently. And an officer lacking in competence would be unlikely to be given command of a vessel such as the Enterprise.”
As Spock led him into the dilithium crystal recharging section, Kirk reminded himself not to take the Vulcan’s cold response personally. He may have been accustomed to a warmer relationship with his exec, but different individuals had their own ways of doing things, especially across the divide of species and culture. Starfleet was about respecting diversity, after all. Spock was excellent at his job; it shouldn’t matter that he and Kirk were unlikely to become friends. Kirk would have Mitchell for that, and hopefully McCoy soon enough.
Still, it wasn’t Kirk’s way to give up easily. There had to be some way to make a connection through Spock’s icy reserve. Remembering a bit of advice Captain Pike had offered before the change-of-command ceremony, Kirk smiled at his new first officer. “Mister Spoc
k. When the inspection’s done, would you be interested in a game of chess . . . ?”
* * *
Lee Kelso entered the deck eight gymnasium to the sound of clashing metal. A crowd of spectators making impressed noises blocked his view of the source, but as Kelso moved around them, he saw a man and a woman engaged in a lively fencing match. Their masks obscured their faces, but the woman’s muscular frame left no doubt in Kelso’s mind that it was Sarah Lopez, the assistant engineer who spent most of her off-duty time lifting weights. Surprisingly, her leaner male opponent was beating her handily, matching her athleticism and countering her strength with speed and agility. Once he scored the final point and the match was called in his favor, the man whipped off his mask to reveal a brightly grinning face under a mop of shaggy black hair. Kelso realized this must be the new astrophysicist everyone had been talking about for the past few days, the one who’d already charmed everyone with his cheerful, gregarious manner and eclectic range of hobbies.
The young man spent a few moments accepting the congratulations of his opponent and the accolades of the spectators, then laughed raucously as Nyota Uhura improvised a teasing and slightly ribald song about his prowess with a blade. Kelso just stood back to enjoy the show, but after a while, the physicist spotted him, brightened, and came over to greet him. “Lieutenant Kelso! I’ve been looking forward to meeting you!” They shook hands. “Hi. I’m Hikaru Sulu.”
“Pleased to meet you, Sulu. I’ve heard a lot about you. They say you’re an ace helmsman.”
Sulu laughed at the praise, but didn’t refute it. “That’s my primary field, yes. I was a helm officer on the Arjuna and the Jemison.”
“So why the move to sciences?”
“You mind if we go to the locker room? I need a shower after that match.”
“And I need to change into my gym clothes, so sure.”
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