“Guilty of what?” McCoy snapped. “Helping to correct a mistake Starfleet made in the first place? If I have to be guilty of anything, it might as well be that.”
“Bones,” Kirk started to say, but stopped when his attention was caught by a faint orange glow flickering from somewhere outside the window. An instant later a dull thump reverberated through the room’s wooden walls and floorboards, followed by the momentary rattling of the window’s panes and a few loose objects scattered on the bureau across from Jendra’s bed.
“What the hell was that?” McCoy asked, rising from where he sat next to Jendra.
Having already retrieved his tricorder from beneath the folds of his robe, Spock activated the device, its high-pitched whine echoing within the small room. “There has been an explosion from within a large structure near the village’s northern perimeter.”
“The ironworks,” Jendra said, her eyes widening in concern.
From outside the building, Kirk heard a horn blowing, instinct telling him it was an alert signal for the rest of the village. “Spock?”
Still studying his tricorder, the Vulcan replied, “I’m detecting a fire inside the building, Captain, spreading rapidly.”
“We have to go,” Jendra cried as she struggled to rise from the bed. “There may be people hurt.”
“Revati,” McCoy said, holding out a hand to steady her, “you’re in no condition to go running down there.”
“They’ll need me, damn it!” Jendra shouted, appearing to gather strength as she moved from the bed toward the door. Stopping at the threshold, she turned to regard the three Enterprise officers. “And I could use some help, too.”
Despite the rules and regulations, Kirk knew there was only one choice to make.
Komack’s going to have my hide.
Even before they reached the massive, two-story structure housing the iron smelting factory as well as—according to Jendra—the village’s trio of blacksmiths and also the dozen or so kilns used for brick-making, Kirk could see flames licking from inside the structure’s highest windows. As he, Spock, McCoy, and Jendra drew closer, the captain noted the large gathering of people near the building’s main entrance. He counted eight people lying scattered on the ground, two of them coughing and five unmoving as others hovered over them. The eighth was writhing and screaming, both of his legs scorched black. The unmistakable odor of burnt flesh assailed Kirk’s nostrils, and it was a physical effort to keep from retching.
Without saying a word, Jendra moved to the burn victim. Several of the villagers saw her approach and stood aside to allow her passage, and Kirk heard a steady chorus of “Beloren!” as she knelt beside her newest patient.
“I’m going to see what I can do,” McCoy said. It wasn’t a request for permission, Kirk noted, not that he would have expected anything less from the doctor. Though worried about the potential for their exposure as outsiders here among the Grennai, the captain trusted his friend to use sound judgment even while doing everything in his power to heal those in need.
“Captain,” Spock said in a low voice, and Kirk turned to see the Vulcan surreptitiously consulting the tricorder he held concealed by his robe. “I count six life-forms inside the structure, surrounded by fire. They appear to be trapped.”
Looking around, Kirk took in the scene of Grennai villagers scrambling to maneuver various kinds of crude fire-fighting equipment into position, chief among them a device that he recognized as a form of hand-operated water pump set atop a wagon and drawn by a quartet of sizable, long-haired quadrupedal animals that looked to be a cross between horses and water buffalo. Members of the wagon team were already unloading spools of hose made from either canvas or leather.
There was no way, Kirk decided, that the villagers would be able to get the fire under control in time to save the trapped workers.
“Damn,” he hissed through gritted teeth as he retrieved his communicator and flipped it open. “Kirk to Enterprise!”
“Enterprise. Lieutenant Sulu here, sir,” came his helmsman’s prompt reply.
“Sulu, tell me Scotty’s got the transporters working.”
“Not yet, sir.” Kirk heard the regret in the lieutenant’s voice. “They’re still not safe for biomatter transport.”
There was nothing to be done about that now. “Have sickbay stand by for possible emergency triage to treat burn victims, and start prepping a shuttlecraft with the appropriate equipment and supplies.”
Closing the communicator, the captain caught sight of McCoy looking over at him from where he knelt beside Jendra. The hint of an understanding and appreciative smile teased the corners of his mouth.
“Shut up,” Kirk said to his friend before turning to Spock. “Where are the trapped people?”
The Vulcan pointed toward his left. “Toward the rear of the structure on the ground floor. Life-signs are weak.”
“Let’s go, then,” Kirk said before taking off at a run down the length of the ironworks. Flames billowed from open windows on the second floor, licking at the structure’s exterior wood trim. Kirk spied a dark sliver farther along the wall and was buoyed to see that it was a door, standing open and offering unimpeded access to the building.
“Come on, Spock!” Kirk yelled as he plunged through the doorway, the heat from the fire playing across his exposed skin the instant he was inside. Smoke stung his eyes and he reached up to cover his mouth with part of his hood. Inside the building, the only illumination was that offered by the blaze eating at the flammable materials around him. With Spock indicating the correct direction, the captain moved across the floor of the ironworks, dodging between equipment, tools, and burning debris that had fallen from the ceiling, all while trying to ignore the nagging feeling that the entire building was about to fall down around his ears.
“Help!” a voice called out from somewhere to his left, and Kirk turned to see a male Grennai waving in his direction, the man’s frantic plea and the emotion behind it channeled through Kirk’s universal translator. As he drew closer, the captain saw the panic in the man’s eyes. “We’re trapped in here! Help us!”
“Don’t worry,” Kirk said, hoping to ease the man’s fears, “we’re going to get you out of here.” He placed his hands on the Grennai’s shoulders. “Where are the others?”
“This way!” the man replied, leading Kirk and Spock deeper into the building to where a group of five other Grennai were lying beneath a set of stairs in the rear corner of the room. A quick check revealed that all of the workers were unconscious, having succumbed to either the heat or smoke inhalation.
The fire was close, Kirk knew, working its way across the structure’s wooden framework. Smoke thickened the air, making it difficult to see and even harder to breathe. As he pressed a fold of his robe over his mouth, the captain was sure he heard dull groans and creaks of protest as the burning building continued to deteriorate around them.
Something cracked and snapped above and behind Kirk an instant before he felt a hand on his back pushing him forward. Struggling to keep his balance, he turned in time to see Spock narrowly avoiding a large, burning timber as it fell from the ceiling and plummeted to the cobblestone floor. Embers and ash swirled around the massive piece of wood as it came to rest less than a meter from the Vulcan’s feet.
“You all right?” Kirk called out.
Spock nodded. “We do not have much time.”
“We must hurry!” the Grennai cried, his voice cracking under the obvious strain.
Nodding in agreement, Kirk replied, “No time to get them all out the way we came.” Reaching inside his robe, he retrieved the compact phaser from his pocket, showing it to Spock while also shielding it from the other man.
Spock exchanged a look of understanding with Kirk before stepping closer to the man. “Sir, a fragment of burning ash has landed on your clothing. Let me help you.” His hand clamped down at the junction of the Grennai’s neck and shoulder, and the man’s eyes opened wide in surprise as his body fell lim
p.
“What are the odds I’ll ever learn to do that?” Kirk asked as Spock lowered the man’s unconscious form to the ground.
“They continue to defy my efforts at computation, Captain.”
Moving closer to the wall, Kirk checked the power setting on his phaser before taking aim and firing the weapon. Harsh blue-white energy lanced from the phaser and struck the wall, washing over the crude earthen bricks and expanding outward in a near-perfect circle. Masonry dissolved beneath the glare of the phaser blast, revealing open ground outside the building. Kirk ceased firing, and smoke immediately began to filter through the newly created hole.
He set to work assisting Spock to move the stricken victims from their place of fleeting shelter to safety outside the structure. Once outside and safely away from the scene, the Starfleet officers could only stand by, administering preliminary first aid to their unconscious charges and watching as the building was slowly yet inexorably claimed by the intensifying blaze.
“Captain,” Spock said after a time, “you do realize that Dr. McCoy will almost certainly find no end of humor and irony in your actions?” There was a subtle yet still wry expression gracing the Vulcan’s features.
Kirk offered a stern look to his first officer. “Then we’ll have to be sure not to tell him, won’t we?”
I think I might actually be getting too old for this.
Jendra’s entire body—her lungs and sides in particular—ached from the exertion of hiking through the thick forest and uneven terrain in the predawn darkness, and she was appreciative of the moderate pace McCoy had set. Grunting with new effort, she hitched her modest pack a bit higher onto her back, once again feeling its straps digging into her shoulders even through her thick shirt.
“You all right?” McCoy asked, looking over at her with an expression of concern.
She nodded. “I’m fine.” He had offered to carry the pack more than once, but she had refused, insisting instead on carrying what remained of her personal belongings. With the Enterprise’s engineer having successfully recalibrated the ship’s transporters, Captain Kirk had assured her that the bulk of her possessions, including what remained of the Starfleet equipment and supplies she originally had brought with her to NGC 667, would be transferred aboard. All that remained was to get her up to the starship, and she was damned if she was going to have someone else carry the rest of her things—or carry her, for that matter.
Other than the periodic offers to assist her, McCoy had said almost nothing during their hike from the village. She sensed his discomfort, and though she had said nothing to the effect herself, Jendra was thankful for the silence. Despite the way she had faced off against Captain Kirk, she had felt constantly on guard, required to justify actions that before the Enterprise officers’ arrival she was certain were unquestionably the right thing to do, from a moral perspective if not a legal one. She knew that—on some level, at least—McCoy agreed with her, but Jendra nevertheless was grateful for a respite from having to defend herself.
“There she is,” McCoy said after a moment, pointing to his right. A glint of artificial light flickered through the trees, and as they drew closer Jendra could make out the straight, smooth lines of the shuttlecraft Columbus. Sitting in the center of a small glade barely large enough to accommodate it, the vessel’s flat gray-white hull and bright red striping contrasted sharply with the muted browns and greens of the surrounding forest.
She and McCoy emerged from the woods near the shuttle’s left side, and as they approached, Kirk stepped through the craft’s open hatch and down onto the ground. All traces of his Grennai disguise—the white hair, prosthetic ears, and artificial skin pigmentation—were gone, and he was now wearing his standard Starfleet captain’s uniform.
“Hello, Doctor,” Kirk said, offering a smile that, while guarded, still retained much of the charm Jendra had observed earlier.
If I were thirty years younger…I think I’d still be more interested in his first officer.
“Captain,” she said, nodding her head in greeting as she slid the pack from her shoulders and set it on the ground at her feet.
“How are your patients faring?” the captain asked.
Pausing to wipe perspiration from her brow, Jendra replied, “We lost five, all told, but three others are still missing. More than a dozen wounded, but they should recover in time.” Feeling the resignation creep into her voice, she added, “They’ve not found the foreman, Crimar. He was the most knowledgeable metalworker among them, and he was a friend to me. It’s quite a setback for us…that is, for the whole village.”
She had been surprised by Kirk’s decision to let her remain at the village and oversee the treatment of the fire victims. He could have had her transported to his ship without another word on the subject, of course. That he had not done so spoke volumes about the man’s character, so far as she was concerned.
Leonard was right about him, I think.
“You know these people,” Kirk said after a moment. “Will they be able to rebuild the ironworks in short order? Get back on their feet?”
Jendra shrugged. “The building’s a total loss. Collapsed in on itself during the fire. They’ll have to start from scratch, but if I know them, they’ll be just fine. I never thanked you for your help, Captain. You saved a lot of lives. It would have been easy just to stand back and let things happen without…interfering.”
The smile on Kirk’s face faded, and he seemed to take on a wistful expression for the briefest of moments before shaking his head. “Easy? Not really, no.” When he spoke the words, Jendra saw for the first time that this man had encountered similar dilemmas in the past and been forced to make difficult decisions in the face of such crises. She could not be sure, but she sensed that he might even harbor guilt over the results of at least some of those choices.
More to him than meets the eye, I’ll grant that.
She caught movement behind the captain and looked up to see Spock exiting the shuttlecraft. Like Kirk, the Vulcan also was dressed in Starfleet garb, all vestiges of his Grennai persona gone. “I take it the local look didn’t agree with you gentlemen?” she asked.
“The need for us to interact with the indigenous population has ended,” Spock said. “There was also the matter of my…compromised disguise.”
“One of his ears melted at the fire,” Kirk deadpanned, his expression remaining fixed and neutral.
“Damn shame, too,” McCoy said. “I thought it was an improvement. Spock, you were almost likable.”
Jendra started to laugh but was interrupted by a coughing fit so severe that it felt as though her lungs were tearing. McCoy moved to her side, maneuvering her so that she could sit on the steps leading into the shuttlecraft. After taking a moment to catch her breath, she looked up to Kirk, sighing. “All right, let’s get this over with, Captain. I’m only here because I’m too damned tired to outrun or outfox you. What’s done is done, I suppose I’m ready to atone for my actions, and I want to do it while I’m still breathing.” She had given her word to Kirk that she would not attempt to flee the village, in return for his allowing her to tend to the victims of the fire. Despite momentary temptation, she had every intention of keeping her promise, no matter how difficult it was to do so.
Kirk regarded her in silence for several heartbeats, and Jendra thought she saw conflict behind the captain’s bright, hazel eyes. His jaw line tightened, and he inhaled a deep breath before drawing himself to his full height and squaring his shoulders.
“No.”
Confused by the abrupt statement, Jendra blinked several times. “No, what?”
“While waiting for you this morning,” Kirk said, “I completed my after-action report for Starfleet Command. I haven’t yet transmitted it, but it says that you died earlier this morning from complications due to injuries you suffered while rescuing Grennai villagers from the fire.”
“Jim?” McCoy said, and Jendra was sure that her friend’s expression of uncertainty mirrored her ow
n. She found herself fumbling for something to say.
Finally, she managed to whisper, “I don’t understand.”
“My report will also state that your body was interred in accordance with local Grennai customs,” Kirk continued, “and that your presence didn’t introduce any obvious or permanent cultural contamination. Our mission here was concluded without further incident.” Looking down at her, he smiled again. “It’s not often that someone gets the opportunity to correct a mistake, Doctor. I wasn’t sure about this until just a little while ago, but I think you should have that opportunity.”
Her eyes darted from Kirk’s face to McCoy’s, and she saw a knowing smile spreading across her friend’s features.
“I’ll be damned,” McCoy said, shaking his head before looking at Spock. “You’re going along with this, too?”
The Vulcan nodded. “While I do not condone violation of the Prime Directive, Doctor, this situation is somewhat unique. Dr. Jendra’s efforts, limited though they may be, do serve a noble purpose. It seems logical to allow her to continue.”
“And you’re okay with lying?” McCoy asked.
His right eyebrow arching, Spock replied, “It is not a lie to protect the truth from those who would act against it without concern for mitigating circumstances, Doctor. In this matter, I believe Starfleet to be wrong, both then and now.”
“My God,” McCoy said in mock astonishment. “I need a drink.”
Now unable to stifle a joyous laugh even as she felt her eyes watering, Jendra reached out until she could grasp Kirk’s hands in her own. “Thank you, Captain. I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s my pleasure, Doctor.” Casting a quick glance toward the approaching sunrise, he said, “It’s almost daybreak, and we need to be going.” He offered a look at McCoy. “But we’ve still got a few minutes, Bones.”
The captain and Spock offered their farewells and good luck wishes before climbing into the shuttlecraft, leaving McCoy alone with her even as she wiped tears from her face. Ever the gentleman, he produced a handkerchief for her.
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