“So as for the move to sciences,” Sulu said as the two men headed for the locker room, “that’s pretty much your fault.” At Kelso’s stare, Sulu laughed. “Just kidding. I applied for a transfer to the Enterprise as soon as I heard Captain Kirk was expected to take her over, but there weren’t any helm posts open. Luckily, I minored in astrophysics, and there was a slot available there.”
Kelso frowned. “You wanted to serve with Kirk that much?”
“Is that surprising?” Sulu asked as he started to strip off his fencing gear. “I’ve wanted to serve with him ever since I heard what he achieved at Regulus. And the things he’s done before then—the Vulcanian Expedition, Baez IV, Acamar, Chenar . . .” He chuckled. “I just have a feeling that serving under Captain Kirk is going to be quite an adventure.”
“Well, maybe,” Kelso replied sourly as he pulled off his own tunic. “You know the saying—adventure is what happens when things go wrong.”
Sulu’s bright mood faltered for the first time, but not fully. “Come on, Kelso. I know you’ve had your share of adventures under Captain Pike.”
“Sure, sometimes it’s unavoidable. But Captain Pike is a seasoned veteran, tempered and responsible. When I transferred here from the Asimov, I was honored to serve under him, to learn from his years of experience.” He grimaced. “And then just a few months later, he gets bumped upstairs and we get a new captain who’s barely older than I am.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way. But I bet if you give Captain Kirk a chance, he’ll win you over. The man’s clearly no amateur.”
“Oh, I know his reputation,” Kelso said. “Disciplined, serious, driven, mature beyond his years.”
“You sound unconvinced.”
“I was a couple of years behind him at the Academy,” Kelso said. “The buzz was, he cheated on the Kobayashi Maru. He didn’t earn his graduation fairly.”
Sulu’s smile disappeared, as though Kelso had touched on a sore spot. “The Kobayashi Maru is just a psych test,” he said. “It’s not as big a deal as people make it out to be.”
Kelso realized that Sulu must have been unhappy with his own performance on the infamous no-win scenario. Recognizing that it was a sensitive subject, he shifted his tack. “Anyway, the point is, you can’t always trust someone’s reputation. Some people get where they are through hard work; others take shortcuts and get by on charm. I knew a guy just like that on the Asimov. Acted like the whole galaxy revolved around him.”
“And you think Captain Kirk’s in the latter category.”
“Just look at who he brought with him. Don’t get me wrong, Gary Mitchell’s a good navigator and a really friendly guy. I like him, and having him sitting next to me at the helm keeps things entertaining. But I don’t think a class clown like him would ever have become second officer on a capital ship if his best friend Captain Kirk hadn’t been showing him favoritism for years.”
Sulu grinned as he moved toward the showers. “Tell you what, Kelso. If you’re that unhappy working on the bridge, you could always transfer to astrophysics. I’d be happy to take your place at the helm.”
“Yeah, you wish.” They both knew it didn’t work that way. “Don’t worry, Sulu, I’ll stick it out. We don’t always get to serve under people we like.”
“Give Kirk a chance,” Sulu said over the sound of the water. “It’s only been a few days. I bet that once you see him in action, you’ll change your mind.”
Kelso sighed. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m just disappointed that Pike left so soon and I’m taking it out on the new guy.”
“That’s the spirit!”
But as Kelso returned to the gym and began his workout, his doubts lingered more in his mind than Sulu’s assurances. Kirk had gained quite a reputation with a few flashy accomplishments in a relatively brief span of time, sure, but that was just what made Kelso wary. Commanding a Constitution-class ship was a unique responsibility, one that demanded broad and deep experience and keen judgment. Was it right to let someone jump the queue past more seasoned officers because of a few big victories?
After all, Kirk’s record on the Sacagawea hadn’t consisted solely of victories. He’d had some major losses too. At least once, he’d come within a hair’s breadth of losing his entire ship and crew. How much of his success came down to sheer luck?
And what if the Enterprise was where his luck ran out?
* * *
“You think you’re ready for your first real assignment, Jim?”
Kirk sat forward in his command chair, his body language alone answering José Mendez’s question. “More than ready, sir. Commander Scott has joined us, so we’re fully staffed at last.”
“Excellent. Because this is the kind of mission where we want to put our best foot forward. The kind a ship like the Enterprise is made for—to be the face of the Federation in dealing with an alien culture, in a situation where a show of strength is as important as diplomacy.”
Kirk took that in, noting as the rest of the bridge crew turned forward to focus on what Mendez said next. “You have our attention, Commodore.”
“Have you heard of the Aulacri?”
“I can’t say I have.” Time to give his science officer a try. “Mister Spock?”
The Vulcan answered without even consulting his station. “Aulacri. A minor starfaring power whose territory abuts the Federation. First formally contacted four years ago; recommended as candidates for Federation membership last year, following cultural survey and assessment. The surveyors spoke highly of their peaceful, cooperative society, with little history of warfare for thousands of years. Their government and populace are currently evaluating their response to the Federation’s invitation.” His brows rose as his head took on a curious tilt. “If I recall correctly, they are one of the few known humanoid species to possess tails.” That remark evoked a grin from Gary Mitchell, who was no doubt wondering what their women looked like.
“That’s all correct, Mister Spock,” said Mendez. “What you left out was that the Aulacri are planning to terraform a dead planet in their territory, Karabos II by name.”
“I am familiar with the name Karabos II,” Spock pointed out, as if to defend himself against the charge of incompleteness. “I gather that an Andorian archaeological team has been surveying the ruins of an extinct civilization on that planet.”
“And that’s the crux of the problem, Captain Kirk. The Aulacri are a week away from bombarding the planet with multiple large comets, in order to replenish its water.”
Kirk’s eyes widened. “They sound like a very ambitious people. No wonder the Federation wants them.”
“A patient people as well,” Spock added. “A terraforming operation of that sort could take centuries to complete.”
“The archaeologists would disagree with you about the Aulacri’s patience, Commander,” said Mendez. “They insist there are still undiscovered ruins on the planet, that bombarding it with comets could destroy the knowledge and legacy of a lost civilization. And their team leader is refusing to evacuate. She insists the ruins on Karabos II are too important to abandon.”
“So . . . which side are we being sent to convince?” Kirk asked.
“Your job, ideally, is to negotiate a compromise or alternative that will give everyone what they want. Naturally the potential for scientific discovery is important—but studying the Aulacri’s terraforming techniques could potentially be of greater benefit than studying another set of ancient alien ruins. And there’s the additional consideration of the Aulacri’s potential membership. If you can convince them to choose an alternate site or at least postpone the bombardment long enough for the archaeologists to complete their survey, that’s fine. But tread carefully, Captain. Our goal is to keep Federation citizens alive and safe, of course—but also to do so without offending the Aulacri. The planet is in their territory, so if they say our people need to go, we have no business disagreeing.”
Kirk absorbed that. “So when you said ‘a show of st
rength,’ you meant it might be Federation scientists we need to strong-arm.”
“I’m hoping it won’t come to that, Jim. After all, the team leader is one of our own. Ex-Starfleet.”
The captain blinked, then traded a look with Gary Mitchell. A female-identifying Andorian archaeologist, ex-Starfleet and stubborn as hell? Kirk began to realize why he had been given this assignment.
“I see you’ve anticipated me,” Mendez said. “The team leader is your old crewmate Rhenas Sherev. I’m hoping that if she won’t listen to the Diplomatic Corps or the Aulacri, maybe she’ll listen to an old friend.”
Kirk sighed. “I’ll do my best to convince her, sir. But Rhenas Sherev is not someone who backs down easily.”
VEGA COLONY
2262
Five
I don’t believe in a no-win scenario.
—James T. Kirk
Fragment A57, Vega debris disk
Commander Sherev’s antennae twitched within her helmet, bumping nervously against its interior padding. She was tempted to rip the confining helmet off so she would be free to express her excitement properly, but she supposed that having air to breathe was slightly more important. She just wished the Caliban had a wider variety of EVA suit designs available. That was the drawback of such a small ship.
Then again, a larger ship would present a larger target for the particles of dust and rock that were unusually densely packed in this portion of the debris disk, with a greater probability of being struck. Of course, that was what deflector shields were for, but the Caliban’s compact size meant it could nestle in the lee of this 1,800-meter-wide chunk of dwarf planet crust and leave its shields down, making it easier for its six crew members to move between the sleek Titania-class surveyor and the Vegan ruins buried within the dwarf fragment. If more personnel were needed for the excavation, then Captain Kirk and the base at Eagle’s Landing were just a subspace call away.
For the moment, though, Sherev was glad to have the ruins all to herself and her immediate team. The human colonists on Vega IX had spent the past century and a half excavating the planet surface and sifting through the debris disk to recover artifacts of the ancient civilization that had terraformed the planet nearly a million standard years ago, but they had rarely found a facility as relatively intact as this one. What the Caliban had discovered was the remains of an underground base or bunker buried hundreds of meters beneath the surface of what, judging by the fragment’s curvature and spectroscopic readings, had been the largest of the dwarf planets whose destruction had created the debris disk around the star. The depth of the facility must have protected it from the bombardments that had destroyed the Vegans’ civilization, leaving little in the way of identifiable technology or organic remains. Not fully protected, of course; the final planetbuster bombardment that had cracked apart the dwarf planet had split the bunker’s corridors and vented it to space, probably sucking any occupants out along with the air, moisture, loose equipment and documents, and so forth.
However, by the grace of Uzaveh, this fragment did contain the bunker’s central reactor, as well as several workstations with power connections leading to it. As they had been surrounded by planetary crust, the reactor and the workstations had been shielded from all but the highest-velocity micrometeoroid impacts, and thus many of them remained intact enough that there might actually be a chance of reactivating them. Sherev had insisted on hooking up the portable generator from the Caliban herself, hoping that if she could power up one of the workstations, and if by some miracle it held a visual log or security recording, she might become the first archaeologist to see and hear a record of a living Vegan. What a story that would be to tell her bondmates and kids the next time she came home! Sure, the eternal academic fame and glory wouldn’t hurt, but getting to share her enthusiasm for discovery with her children was the real prize.
Maybe, assuming the universal translator lived up to its name, she could even gain some insight into the causes of the devastating war between the inhabitants of Vega IX and those who had chosen to remain on the dwarf planets. To all indications, the ancient species had settled the dwarfs first and overseen the terraforming of Vega IX from them; yet when the planet was finally habitable generations later, a segment of the population had chosen to remain in space. Over time, the two civilizations had grown further apart, going through cycles of conflict and reconciliation, yet eventually having a falling-out so extreme that it had led to their mutual annihilation. If Sherev could discover the reasons why, it might enable future civilizations to avoid similar cataclysms of their own. Even today, there were still some Andorians who resented having to share the Federation with Vulcans and Tellarites, and no doubt members of those species who reciprocated. The laws and social standards of the Federation had kept the peace among its members (though not always with outsiders) for a hundred years now—but there had been far longer periods of peace between the branches of Vegan civilization. Was peace always doomed to fail eventually? Or could the failure be prevented if its causes could be anticipated?
“Okay,” Sawa Isurugi announced over the comm channel, startling Sherev out of her reverie. “The last power circuit is patched now. You can try jump-starting the reactor at your convenience, Commander.”
Sherev sighed. “Finally.”
Arhanla’s deep, gentle voice sounded next. “Are we certain we want to do this?” the Deltan lieutenant asked. “I feel there’s still too much uncertainty in our models of the reactor’s power output and stability. We barely understand its mechanism for power generation.”
“The thing about most kinds of high-energy power sources besides antimatter,” Sherev told him, “is that it’s hard to make them react in the first place. So if the process doesn’t work right, you’re more likely to get no power at all than a runaway reaction. At worst, this will just fizzle and we’ll have to find some way to power the workstations ourselves.” The stations were designed to draw on the reactor’s exotic power and thus couldn’t be energized by the portable generator. Using a charge from the generator to trigger the reactor itself was simpler than inventing some way to convert the power directly.
“Is there a reason we can’t just wait to do that?” Arhanla replied.
“We’ve waited long enough,” Sherev countered. “We’ve run multiple simulations showing we can make this work. The few percentage points of uncertainty we could shave off aren’t worth the delay. We are in a debris disk, after all. There’s always a chance, however small, that an impact could damage these systems and cost us valuable knowledge. The sooner we learn all this ruin has to teach us, the better.”
“Besides, I’m transferring to Mars in three weeks,” Isurugi said. “I don’t want to miss the big moment when it comes.”
“You don’t have to, Sawa,” Sherev told her. “Because here we go. Power activation in five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . Now!”
Her antennae were drumming audibly against the helmet padding as she hit the activation switch. The readouts on the generator showed that power was being delivered, so they simply had to wait for the reactor deep below to react to the spark and build up its own energy. It was only a matter of time now before the workstation before her lit up with alien symbols.
Only a matter of time . . .
“Oh, come on,” she said two minutes later. “What’s taking so long?” Jim Kirk’s voice echoed in her memory: You’re the most impatient archaeologist I’ve ever met.
“The reactor is receiving power,” Isurugi reported. “Something is happening in there . . . Energy is building up, but it’s not being sent out through the conduits. Maybe we underestimated how eroded they were.”
“I suppose you were right, Commander,” Arhanla said with a sigh. “The worst that will happen is that nothing happens.”
“Oh no. No!”
“Sawa? Report!” Any thoughts on the irony of the young engineer’s outburst would have to wait.
“Shimatta . . . The power is surgi
ng! It’s going to blow!”
No, not when we’re so close! “Is there any way to stop it?”
“We have no time! Move, everyone! Hayaku, hayaku!”
Clenching her teeth to suppress a shriek of frustration, Sherev spun around and fired her suit thrusters, propelling herself through the fragment’s near-weightless corridors toward the surface of the fragment. She prayed to Uzaveh that she could get far enough from the blast that the intervening rock would shield her. She prayed even harder that the same would be true for Isurugi and Arhanla. Then she remembered the three others on the ship nearby. “Sherev to Caliban. Fall back, gain some distance from—”
The walls around her convulsed, heaved, and fractured. A massive piece of them collided with her suit from behind, and in the instant before she blacked out, she prayed that she would see her children again.
U.S.S. Somerville NCC-S471
“Kirk to Sherev, come in! Come in, please!”
Kirk leaned forward urgently in the Somerville’s command chair, hoping for a reply. It brought him no pleasure to be back in a starship’s center seat, for it was not his to command. The midsized Capella-class ship was a workhorse vessel shared among the various Starfleet research, defense, and operations units active in the Vega system, and it had happened to be attached to the archaeological station when the Caliban’s distress call had come in. Normally Sherev would have occupied this command chair for whatever mission the ship needed to carry out. But she had considered the much smaller Caliban a better choice for her mission to the dwarf planet fragment—a decision that had seemed reasonable until her attempt to revive the fragment’s ancient reactor had somehow triggered it to explode.
According to the distress call, the explosion had shattered the fragment and sent the three EV-suited personnel aboard her flying out into space. The Caliban itself had suffered engine, shield, and transporter damage in the explosion and was unable to rescue them; it had been forced to limp out of the debris belt and head for home, leaving the Somerville to handle the rescue effort. With the usual commander being the one in need of rescue, Kirk had taken her place on the bridge.
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