—Dr. Monali Bhasin
Ministers of Sacrifice
U.S.S. Enterprise
“Negotiations with the Agni are going well,” the image of Robert Wesley said to Christopher Pike as the latter sat at the desk in his quarters, arms folded in thought. “Provisionally, the surface of Regulus I is being set aside as a territorial enclave for the Agni, along with the entirety of 88 Leonis III. It’s possible that the Federation outpost in that system will be relocated or scaled back. It’s not like we don’t have plenty of other suitable worlds to choose from.”
Pike shook his head. “Imagine how it must be for them. Coming out into the galaxy and finding that worlds you can live on are few and far between, and that most of the life out here is almost inconceivably alien. We got incredibly lucky to find a universe whose worlds and peoples are so close a match to our own.”
“There are days when I still find that damned hard to believe, no matter how often I see the proof,” Wesley said. “The best explanation I can come up with? The Great Bird of the Galaxy really likes hairless apes.”
“Don’t tell the Agni that,” Pike said. “Refugees or not, I gather they’re not the sort of people you want to piss off.”
“Yeah, about that. Now that we’ve gotten a better look at their technologies, it looks like there’s little that’s worth adapting for Federation use. According to Captain Kirk and his science crew, the singularity drives are an impressive technological achievement, but hard to contain and repair, and inefficient to create in the first place. You could power both our ships for a year with the energy it takes to create even one microsingularity. We’re better off with the power systems we have. And without the singularity, there’s no plasma beam.”
“Fine with me,” Pike said. “We’re not out here to build bigger and better weapons.”
“You know how I feel about that, Chris. There’s a need for military readiness. However, this particular weapon is only bigger, not better. The drawbacks outweigh the benefits. Same with the armor plate system. It’s no better than deflectors, and it traps too much waste heat inside the ship—not a problem for the Agni, but definitely for us ‘cold beings.’
“As for their stealth warp drive,” Wesley went on, “according to Kirk’s people, the Agni say it only works for relatively short hops—and even so, it exposes the crew to intense subspace radiation that’s harmless to the Agni but fatal for water-based life like us.”
“That tracks with what Commander Spock theorized,” Pike replied.
Wesley chuckled. “Sometimes it seems like that Vulcan has all the answers ahead of time. I don’t know how he does it, but the fleet could use fifty like him.”
“Sorry—he’s one of a kind.” Pike tilted his head, contemplating his longtime colleague. “You know, you should save some of that praise for Captain Kirk. He achieved something remarkable at Regulus. The Federation owes him a great debt.”
Wesley shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of him. I’ve already recommended him for the Preantares Ribbon for this. But let’s keep things in perspective. The Agni threat didn’t turn out to be the invasion we feared it was.”
“There are more intangible threats, Bob. Sometimes from ourselves. Kirk held on to Starfleet’s ideals when they were tested, and in so doing, he saved us from doing real harm to what we stand for. That’s a valuable thing—especially out on the frontier.”
The commodore peered at Pike. “You look even more brooding than usual. What are you thinking, Chris?”
“I’m thinking that Preantares Ribbon will jump James Kirk to the top of the list for promotion to a senior captaincy. Maybe for a ship like the Enterprise.”
Wesley took that in. “You’re thinking of doing it, aren’t you? Accepting Command’s offer. Taking the fleet captain post.”
Pike was slow to respond. “Fleet captain” was an impressive-sounding title for what was basically a bureaucratic position, the chief of staff to a starbase commander. It would be a promotion, giving Pike responsibility for the deployment and operations of all the ships under the starbase’s authority, even still allowing him to lead the occasional diplomatic or scientific mission if the need arose. But it would also mean giving up the independence that came with being a captain on the frontier. In many ways, after all these years, Pike would welcome the chance to rest. That independence, that sole responsibility for hundreds of lives on his ship and countless millions beyond, was a heavy burden for any person to bear for a decade straight. There had been times in the past when he had believed himself to be overwhelmed by that burden and considered retreating from it, but he’d always changed his mind, largely with the encouragement of his crew. But now his stalwart Number One was captain of the Yorktown, Dr. Boyce had retired, and only Spock remained from the command crew Pike had led for so long. So maybe it was finally time for him to seek out new horizons as well.
For Wesley’s benefit, Pike distilled his thoughts to a simple “I have been considering it, yes.” He sighed. “But I’ve been reluctant to leave the Enterprise, since I wanted to be sure she’d be in good hands. If I could have that assurance . . .”
“Well, if you did take the promotion, I daresay Jim Kirk would be a leading candidate to replace you.” He smiled. “And I’d be happy to add my recommendation to yours.”
“I appreciate that, Bob.”
After signing off, Pike continued to contemplate his future, and that of the Enterprise without him. It would still be a few more months before their current tour was over—not to mention Kirk’s, for the Sacagawea had been assigned to seek out the remainder of the scattered Agni refugee ships in deep space and escort them safely to their new homeworlds. But that would give Pike plenty of time to research Kirk and other candidates and settle on his final recommendation. Ultimately it would be Starfleet’s decision, of course, but Pike had been with the Enterprise for the majority of her time in service. He was sure Starfleet Command would give his recommendation the appropriate weight.
The harder part, Pike realized, might be convincing Commander Spock to accept a new captain. Spock was loyal to a fault, a stalwart presence at Pike’s side, but Pike knew his brilliance would be wasted as the right-hand man of a fleet captain sitting behind a desk at a starbase. Starfleet needed him out here on the frontier, and he needed to be out here too, to face the challenges that would shape him into the leader Pike knew he could become.
But Pike suspected that if anyone could win Spock’s acceptance, it would be James Kirk. In many ways, the man reminded Pike of his own younger self, the captain that Spock had met when he came aboard the Enterprise more than a decade ago. He hoped that Spock would see the resemblance as well—and that it would help him accept Kirk long enough to discover and appreciate the things that would make him unique as a commanding officer.
Christopher Pike paced his quarters, trying to imagine what he would say to Kirk, or to whoever ended up replacing him as captain of the Enterprise. He still had months to figure it out, but he knew it would be important to get it right.
ENTERPRISE
2265
Twenty-Two
Commanding a starship is your first, best destiny.
—Spock
U.S.S. Enterprise
When Lee Kelso saw Kirk standing outside his quarters, he stiffened to attention. “Captain! Sir.” He stared at Kirk uneasily.
“May I come in, Lieutenant?”
Kelso started. “Of course, sir! Come right in.” He stepped back awkwardly.
Once the door had closed, Kelso turned to face him. “Permission to speak, Captain?”
Kirk looked him over. “Granted.”
“Captain . . . I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I defied you. I heard what happened . . . I can’t believe I was so wrong. I thought your judgment was compromised by your feelings for—I mean, your friendship with Doctor Sherev. But I was the one who lacked judgment. I didn’t see the things you saw. I should’ve trusted that, as the captain, you’d be able to, wel
l, do that.” He trailed off, interlacing his fingers nervously.
“I accept your apology, Lieutenant,” Kirk said. “I’m just curious to know what made it difficult for you to trust me.”
“Well . . . to be honest, sir . . . I’m just not used to having a captain who’s barely older than I am. And, well, I was at the Academy when those rumors about the Kobayashi Maru started and, well, I guess I assumed the worst. Again, I apologize deeply for that.”
Kirk offered him a small smile. “It’s not the first time I’ve been judged for my youth, Mister Kelso, and I doubt it’ll be the last. I understand it must be a difficult adjustment after serving for a veteran like Captain Pike. Frankly, Lee, I envy you for having had that opportunity.”
“Only for a few months, sir. I’d hoped it would be longer. And I took that out on you.” He sighed. “The fact is, Captain Pike wasn’t above bending the rules when he had to. In his case, I trusted that he had his reasons. I had no right to think otherwise of you, sir.”
“I appreciate it, Lieutenant.”
Kelso fidgeted. “I suppose . . . if you want me to apply for a transfer . . .”
Kirk held out a hand. “Stop right there, Lieutenant. That won’t be necessary.”
The fair-haired helmsman stared. “But after what I did . . .”
“You made a mistake. It happens to the best of us. And as I recently pointed out to Director Skovir, it’s by confronting and learning from our mistakes that we better ourselves. I think you deserve that same chance.
“After all—as misguided as you were, I respect that you had the courage to stand up to authority when you believed it was necessary. The ironic thing is, you were standing up to me for doing the same. So I really have no business judging you for it, do I?”
“Um . . . if you say so, sir.”
“I need officers who can serve as checks on my judgment, who can tell me when they think I’m wrong. I won’t always agree with them, but I always want to hear what they have to say—as long as they accept my orders without question once they’re issued.”
Kelso nodded. “Yes, sir. I understand, sir.” Though it was only after those words that full understanding seemed to dawn. “Then—I can stay aboard?”
“Yes, Lieutenant. The helm is still yours.” Kirk felt a twinge of regret that Sulu would have to remain in astrophysics, but Kelso deserved his post. Sulu’s turn would come again in time.
Kelso brightened. “Yes, sir! Thank you, sir! I promise I won’t let you down again.”
Kirk shook Kelso’s hand, having a good feeling about the young man’s future.
* * *
“It would appear,” Spock said, “that the impact of our actions upon the Aulacri’s terraforming plan was smaller than expected.”
He stood beside his science station on the bridge, flanked by Sherev and Sulu. Kirk stood in the command well a few steps below them, leaning slightly against his command chair as he listened. “Go on, Mister Spock.”
“The quantity of cometary volatiles released into the atmosphere was reduced by the deflection of the four large impactors. However, the lack of surface impacts means that even the small expected amount of volatile ejection into space did not occur, which partially offsets the deficit.”
“Of course, the impact winter won’t happen now,” Sulu said, “so a lot of the water might still be lost to space over time. But with Federation help, there might be other ways to cool the planet. There were various geoengineering methods developed on Earth in the early twenty-first century, for instance, to offset the effects of global warming—before we had our own nuclear winter to cancel it out.”
Sherev shook her head. “You humans got lucky. Imagine if you’d perfected antimatter bombs before that war. You might’ve ended up like the Karabosi. Or . . . the ancient Aulacri. I’m not sure what to call them now.”
“In fact,” Spock said, “I have been reviewing the biological samples discovered in the vault and running biospheric simulations. There is a breed of indigenous vegetation that grows well in arid, hot conditions and has bright foliage that reflects a fair percentage of the light that strikes it—an adaptation that prevents it from photosynthesizing its limited water and carbohydrate reserves too quickly, perhaps. If it were planted across a large portion of the planet’s surface—with no competing flora and no fauna to feed upon it—it could spread to cover a fair amount of the surface area and reflect much of the star’s light and heat into space, helping to bring the planet’s temperature back toward a livable range for the Aulacri and Karabosi. It might achieve as much as fifty-three percent of the expected cooling effect of the impact winter, with fewer negative side effects to the planetary environment.”
Kirk lifted his brows. “That’s an amazing stroke of luck, Mister Spock.”
“I do not believe in luck, Captain, unless you mean the stochastic operation of chance and coincidence. In this case, however, I believe there was more than chance involved. It seems likely to me that the vault builders extrapolated the effects of a global antimatter war and made sure to preserve species that could assist in bioremediation afterward. It is possible that further study of the archives might reveal more preserved species that could assist in the process.”
Sherev sighed. “I guess that’s my cue, Jim. That vault isn’t going to study itself. I need to get back to my team on the surface.”
Kirk smiled at her wistfully. “I’m glad the Aulacri asked you to stay . . . but it’s a shame to see you go so soon.”
“It’s been fun, but we both have work to get back to. For my part, I can’t wait.”
“You never could.”
Sherev said her goodbyes to Spock and Sulu and let Kirk lead her into the turbolift. Once they were en route to the transporter room, she said, “You know, the reason I’m okay leaving you behind with this bunch is because I can see how well you’ve meshed already. It may not have seemed like it, but you really came together as a unit and pulled off a difficult save very effectively.” She smiled. “And that’s because your team had a terrific leader pulling them together. You’ve grown into a very impressive captain in just a few short years, Jim.”
Kirk clasped her shoulder. “I never would have without your example, and your friendship. You, Gary, Bones, Eshu, all of you helped make me the officer I am today. Even if we’re not in the same crew anymore . . . I’ll always carry you with me.”
She put her hand atop his. “I know you will, Jim. But you know what? The same is true of Spock, Sulu, Kelso, and the rest. They will help make you the officer you’ll be five years from now, and ten, and beyond. And I look forward to getting to meet that officer and see what he’s achieved . . . with his crewmates and his friends at his side.”
Starfleet Medical Center, San Francisco
“Bones, he needs you.”
Leonard McCoy chuckled at the words from the dark-skinned Andorian shen on his desk screen. “Are you and Jim ganging up on me, Rhen? He told me the same thing.”
“Then you know it’s true,” Sherev told him.
“He looked fine to me when we spoke the other week. Like he was finally where he belonged. He doesn’t need me hanging around complaining all the time.”
His old friend smiled. “I think he really might be where he belongs, Leonard. He just seems to fit in command of the Enterprise. But you know how driven Jim can be, how easily he can get too caught up in his work. Obsessed, even.”
McCoy snorted. “Says the shen who refused to leave her work even when a comet was heading right for her.”
“And when I’ve gone too far, I’ve had Jim there to bring me back. Who’ll be there to bring him back?”
“Gary Mitchell’s still there, right?”
Sherev scoffed. “Gary? You expect him to be a tempering influence on Jim? I’m amazed he hasn’t been court-martialed yet.”
“Hmm, and I suppose that Vulcan first officer wouldn’t be much help. Probably incredible at his job, but with no clue about the human heart.”
“You’d be surprised. I think he and Jim will work well together. But Jim needs more in his life than work. He needs friends around him, people to anchor him emotionally, like you and I did. Like Eshu did. We were a family there for a while. I miss it, Leonard. I can’t get that back. But you can.”
McCoy peered at her. “Are you trying to talk me into this for Jim’s benefit, or for mine?”
“You tell me.”
He sat back, absorbing her words. He’d left the Sacagawea because he’d thought he could do more good with the relief program. He’d spent the past fourteen months convincing himself that was true. But at times, it was very lonely work. Sherev’s words reminded him of the sense of community, even of family, that he’d felt aboard the Sac, something he’d never quite felt aboard any of the past ships he’d served on. He’d thought that was a fluke, the result of serving alongside Kirk and Sherev, continuing the friendship they’d forged on Vega IX. Without Sherev around anymore, he had felt that exceptional state of affairs was over.
But now Sherev was telling him it could happen again, even without her. That he and Kirk, and Gary Mitchell and maybe others in the Enterprise crew, could build a community much like the one he’d known before. She had no guarantees, but she believed it was worth the attempt.
His thoughts returned to Vega, three years ago when he and Kirk had first met. He hadn’t believed then that he and the cocky young captain could be friends, and neither had Kirk. They didn’t share a lot in common, in background or outlook. But once the connection had been formed, Kirk had stuck with it and made it work, forging it into a fast friendship. And over the following two years, on Vega and on the Sac, that circle of unlikely friends had expanded and strengthened, thanks to the man at the center of it. Maybe the qualities that made him such a capable and determined leader made him a good and stalwart friend as well.
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