“What do you mean?”
In a fury, the noble strode forward and grabbed Jim and lifted him from the deck.
“Koronin curses you for stopping her! Could the worldship do what she claims? Could it destroy the Klingon Empire?”
[328] “Yes,” Jim said. “Or the Federation of Planets.”
“She would have destroyed your enemies!”
“You aren’t my enemy,” Jim said.
“Our governments are opponents—”
“We aren’t at war! Even if we were—do you think I could stand by and watch the deaths of millions of innocent people?” Jim grabbed the noble’s wrist. “Let me go.”
Spock, in shadows behind the noble, approached stealthily.
The noble released Jim, muttering something incomprehensible but unpleasant in a grudging tone.
“Is everything in order, captain?” Spock said.
The director spun, startled.
“Yes, Mr. Spock.” Jim straightened his shirt. He addressed the noble again. “Did you have anything else to ask me?”
The director reached for his belt. Jim tensed, but the director pulled out a communicating device. He spoke into it, then folded it and put it away.
“I have ordered a truce, captain,” he said. “I have given your starship—and the unknown craft—permission to remain in the realm of our revered empress.”
“That’s ... very civil of you,” Jim said.
The noble dematerialized.
On board the disabled Quundar, Koronin waited, relaxed and ready, her blaster in one hand and her blood sword in the other. She had considered overloading Quundar’s engines and letting them go critical, but had decided that if she had to die, she would die striking with her dueling blade. If she saw any chance to survive, she might find the blaster useful, but she suspected the next, and last, weapon she ever used would be the blade.
She only wished for the chance to face the Federation captain who had frustrated her plans. She could always hope that the fleet would capture the Enterprise and its crew, and that some high-ranking fleet officer had a taste for blood sports.
She could always hope.
Quundar shrieked like a trapped animal as the tractor [329] beams ripped it from the shuttlecraft. Metals had fused with the heat and force of the collision.
A transporter beam penetrated her ship. She smiled: she could destroy any number of invaders before they got their bearings after transporting.
A silvery metal sphere appeared on the deck. Koronin scowled at it, suspicious. It looked like no bomb she knew of—
It burst with a soft gray puff, filling the command balcony with fog. Koronin backed away, but too late.
She collapsed, not knowing if she would ever open her eyes again.
As the Enterprise’s tractor beams pulled Copernicus home, Jim looked out at the worldship, drifting placidly in space.
“It looks so peaceful—yet it’s the biggest, most destructive weapon ever built,” he said.
“On the contrary, captain,” Commander Spock said. “It is not a weapon at all.”
Jim looked askance at the science officer. “You’re the one who realized what it would do if anyone attacked it!”
“But the—” Spock pronounced a trilling, soaring musical sound—“the flying people have never conceived of war or of weapons. Under normal circumstances they would cause the universe to exist around the worldship in one safe configuration, then—when they wished to explore a different portion of space—to change to another safe configuration. It is only under conditions of unnatural stress—such as attack, which the flying people could not have imagined, since they have never imagined war—that the worldship forces the universe to move along unsafe vectors, distorting the fabric of space.”
“They even have you talking as if they moved the universe instead of the worldship!”
“They do, captain, in their frame of reference and in the terms of their physics.”
“That makes no sense at all! It’s ridiculous to say that one arbitrary point stays still, and the flyers make the universe move.”
[330] “And yet,” Spock said, “it moves.”
“But that’s impossible!”
“You overlook one fact, captain.”
“What’s that?”
“The system works.”
Jim thought about what Commander Spock had said. Suddenly all his assumptions about the flying people came together, then exploded into shards like the wall-sphere. When they settled, they possessed a different shape entirely. He remembered the flyers’ fascination with the Enterprise’s instruments; he remembered Sun-and-Shadows’s perfect acrobatic stunt with Copernicus. He remembered Green, blinking at him and saying, “You are but young.”
He had not been dealing with a group of children, or tribal people controlled by some shadowy master. He was talking to people so highly sophisticated that they barely bothered to think about their technology anymore. They were not amazed by the Enterprise, they were amused, like adults encountering a clever children’s toy.
The fleet flagship pulled Quundar inside itself, and the Enterprise tractored Copernicus into the shuttlecraft deck. Jim waited impatiently while the deck repressurized.
Uhura hummed a musical phrase. Spock repeated it, maybe with a slightly different inflection, but Jim could not be sure. Uhura started to hum the phrase again, but stopped halfway through.
“I won’t ever learn it, will I, Mr. Spock? Not all of it, not really.”
Spock hesitated, as if the Vulcan, who claimed such complete disinterest in anyone’s feelings, were searching for a gentle way to answer.
“No,” Spock said finally. “None of us will.”
She hardly reacted, but a moment later when she started to hum again, she cut off the sound sharply.
The all-clear signal sounded. Jim opened the shuttlecraft’s hatch and climbed stiffly down. The tender new grass had shrivelled and died from vacuum exposure.
McCoy and Commander Scott hurried down the companionway. Scarlet and Lindy followed a moment later, as soon as Lindy had let Athene free in the repressurized shuttlecraft [331] dock. Sulu, too, stood nearby. Starfleet had moved from Sulu’s arm to his leg, but he was still plastered against him like a limpet.
“Jim!” McCoy clasped Jim’s hand, then abandoned restraint and gave him a bear hug.
As soon as Jim extricated himself from McCoy’s hug, Lindy hugged him, too. “That was quite a performance,” she said. “If you ever decide to run away to show business, I’ll put an aerial act on the bill.”
Jim smiled and returned her embrace.
“Captain Kirk,” Scott said sincerely, “ye nearly gave me a heart attack—and ye led us on a merry chase, ye can be verra sure of that. ’Tis no simple matter to counteract angular momentum with naught but a tractor beam!”
“I know it isn’t, Mr. Scott.” He offered his hand to the engineer. “But you did it. And you kept the Enterprise out of combat at a time when all your instincts must have called for fighting. At the very least you prevented a war. You should be proud of yourself for both accomplishments.”
“I willna say which action was hardest,” Scott said, but he wrung Jim’s hand.
“The difficulty was worth it. I’m ... very grateful to you.”
“Why ... thank ye, Captain Kirk.”
“Spock.” Scarlet swept her wings in a circle around the Vulcan, in the flyers’ gesture of greeting. “You have returned from your silence. I thank you for the gifts you have given me, and I regret the pain I caused you with my ignorance.”
“Vulcans are not susceptible to pain,” Spock said.
Stephen heard Spock’s comment and choked off a laugh. Spock ignored him.
“My only regret,” Spock said, “is that I cannot incorporate your language as you can mine.”
Scarlet nodded, understanding. “If our people meet again someday, you will be older, it may be possible.” She brushed her wingtip against Uhura’s cheek. “It may be
possible,” she said again. “You are but young.”
Her wings whispered like silk. She leaped into the air and glided across the deck. Athene tossed her head and trotted after her.
[332] “Scarlet!” Lindy cried. “Please don’t tease her!”
“She has practiced flying, now, Lindy-magician,” Scarlet said, hovering a few meters above Lindy’s head. “The worldship cannot sustain her, so she must learn to fly in a smaller place.” The flyer glided to the other side of the deck, very, very slowly. Athene reared back, leaped into the air, and flew.
Jim watched Athene practice touch-and-go takeoffs near Lindy, till Lindy leaped on her back and they glided in a slow game of tag with Scarlet.
“Mr. Scott,” Jim said, “just how far outside Federation territory is the Enterprise?”
“ ’Tis hard to say, captain. ’Twas still inside when Quundar came barrellin’ Out of the worldship, and then, er, I disobeyed your orders a wee bit in case it came to a rescue mission, as it did. Since then, dispatches have been buzzin’ about like gnats, and seems the Enterprise has been granted embassy status. Anyplace it is, is Federation territory. The director is verra grateful to you.”
Spock raised one eyebrow. “Fascinating.”
“I should hope he would be grateful,” McCoy said. “And grateful to you, too, Mr. Spock, considering what’s happened. If you hadn’t known enough about the worldship, we’d be in the middle of some pretty heavy fireworks right now.”
“I believed my actions to be necessary,” Spock said.
“And you were right,” Jim said suddenly.
“Of course,” Spock said.
“I mean it, commander. I said some ill-considered things to you a little while ago. And I agreed with you on the subject of a court-martial. But I was wrong. And so were you.”
“I beg your pardon,” Mr. Spock said, sounding—was it possible?—highly affronted.
“No, Commander Spock, listen to me. There will be no court-martial. If you hadn’t had the guts to mind-meld with Scarlet ...”
“Would you claim bravery for yourself, in stopping Koronin?” Spock said. “I think not. There is no bravery involved when there is no choice.”
Jim could think of no reply.
[333] “I, for one, disagree,” McCoy said. “But I hope I can disagree in a civilized manner.”
“Your manner appears quite civilized to me, doctor,” Spock said.
“Why, thank you, Mr. Spock. By the way, if you come by sick bay, I can do something about that black eye.”
Spock headed for the bridge, taking the stairs of the companionway three at a time. McCoy climbed after him. Jim followed more slowly, hampered by the temporary splint that supported his knee. Scott headed for the shuttlecraft and opened its engine bay.
“Now that we’ve all got done complimenting each other ...” Stephen yawned elaborately.
Sulu passed him, on his way to Copernicus to check on the damage to its navigational systems.
On Stephen’s shoulder, Ilya bristled at Starfleet, who cowered and hid his face against Sulu’s knee. “Looks like you’ve acquired a friend, Mr. Sulu,” Stephen said.
“Oh, I hope not,” Sulu said with intense sincerity.
Stephen grinned. “How’d you get along with Dionysus?”
“Just fine, sir,” Sulu said. “I noticed it has a few added attractions.”
“I’m glad somebody noticed something around here,” Stephen said.
Hazarstennaj, arriving from Engineering to work on Copernicus, glided down the companionway. She stopped when she saw Stephen and Ilya. Her whiskers bristled in disapproval, but she restrained herself from making a comment. She joined Mr. Scott. She heard a strange noise, a sort of cheerful chirp, that she could not identify as a mechanical sound.
“Is anything left of the engines?” she said.
“No’ verra much,” Scott said.
Hazarstennaj heard the chirping again. “Mr. Scott, what is that sound?”
“What? Oh, ’tis Mr. Sulu’s new pet. Revoltin’ thing.”
Curiosity overcame Hazard.
She looked into the main cabin of Copernicus. Sulu was trying to work, but a clever little animal kept getting in his way. It saw Hazard and scampered to her, chirping in a friendly fashion.
[334] “What a dear creature,” she said.
Sulu glanced up. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“You do not like it?”
“It’s kind of a pest,” he said.
“I think it charming,” she said. It nuzzled up against her, twining its fingers in the longer fur at her throat. “It must be very uncomfortable. Furred beings should not be forced to wear clothes.”
“It wasn’t my idea,” Sulu said.
Hazard helped the creature out of the shirt and trousers. It was completely covered in pink fur that shaded to mauve on its back and legs. It scratched its side contentedly and let Hazard smooth the soft fur back into place.
“That’s better, little one, isn’t it?” Hazard said.
“I think it’s orphaned,” Sulu said. “It just grabbed onto me because it was scared of Stephen’s cat. Say, Hazard, it seems to like you a lot better.”
“That is true,” Hazard said. “It will come with me, if it pleases.”
To her pleasure, and Sulu’s relief, Starfleet followed when Hazard returned to the shuttlecraft engines.
Crossing the shuttlecraft deck to return to Dionysus, Stephen glanced up at Lindy and Athene. Lindy caught his gaze. She hesitated, then raised her hand in a brief wave. But she did not turn Athene toward him; she did not say anything to him. He could hardly blame her.
Inside his ship, Stephen checked over the systems. Sulu had left it properly shut down and undamaged. Stephen felt proprietary about Dionysus; the helm officer was the only other person to fly it since he had acquired it.
Stephen let himself collapse in the pilot’s seat. He felt bone-weary and drained, too tired even to go aft to his bunk. Ilya jumped into his lap and settled down, kneading Stephen’s thigh with his big front paws. Stephen stroked him.
“It’s all gone,” he said softly to the forest cat. “I can almost remember, but it’s all shadows and dreams. They’re all slipping away, and I can’t feel them anymore.” He felt empty and disconnected. In order to free Spock from the power of Scarlet’s experiences, Stephen had given up what [335] little contact he had made with his own emotions. He rested his hand on Ilya’s broad head. The forest cat blinked. “There’s always time to start over again, isn’t there?”
The proper reaction, Stephen thought, is a cynical laugh. But I am too tired.
“Stephen—?”
He dragged open his eyes. Uhura stood in the hatchway.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Stephen ...” She stopped, as if uncertain what to say. “Captain Kirk hasn’t been on the Enterprise long. He doesn’t know Mr. Spock, and he doesn’t know much about mind-melding. He doesn’t understand what you did—how difficult it was, and how dangerous. I don’t think Dr. McCoy realizes it, either.”
“Most human beings wouldn’t,” Stephen said.
“But I do,” Uhura said. “Thank you. Mr. Spock didn’t thank you, or he couldn’t ...”
“He can’t entirely help the way he is,” Stephen said. “I ought to be used to it by now.”
She touched him. Her hand was cool and strong. He sought some reaction within himself, but found nothing. Not even grief.
“Uhura ... would you stay here for a few minutes? Would you just sit with me?”
“Of course I will.”
He lay back in the pilot’s chair. Uhura sat beside him in the copilot’s seat, still holding his hand. She could see the exhaustion in his face, and she felt glad when it eased and he drifted into a deep sleep.
Uhura rose, kissed Stephen gently on the cheek, and left Dionysus to return to the bridge.
Jim wondered why it surprised him that the brid
ge looked so normal. He felt as if he had been gone for months, as if things should have changed. But the warp engines registered full capability; communications had returned with the cessation of the jamming field. Spock took his place at the science officer’s station. Yeoman Rand worked at environmental systems, and Commander Cheung at navigation. Mr. Sulu [336] returned, freed, Jim noticed, from Starfleet’s clinging presence, and a few minutes thereafter, Lieutenant Uhura took her place at communications.
Only the schematic in the corner of the viewscreen troubled Jim. It showed the Enterprise well outside the Federation, drifting farther every minute as it followed the worldship. But the viewscreen showed Federation space in blue, Empire space in green. A fuzzy ring of blue surrounded the Enterprise.
“Captain Kirk—Admiral Noguchi on subspace.”
“Thank you,” Jim said, since he could hardly refuse the call. Surrender gracefully, he reminded himself. He had no idea what to say to the admiral, and he suspected he would be just as happy if he never found out what the admiral had to say to him.
“Well, Jim,” the admiral said. “You were due at Starbase 13 yesterday.”
“I know, sir. But we encountered ...” He hesitated, trying to think how to explain the worldship. “A first contact, sir.”
Admiral Noguchi chuckled. “You always have had a talent for understatement. A first contact, indeed. Yes, I’ve seen the transmissions.”
“Transmissions, admiral? We haven’t had time to send any—or the capability.”
“The transmissions from the fleet.”
“Oh.”
“I would have bet,” the admiral said, “that any single Federation ship encountering the oversight committee’s fleet would have been wiped out of space—or captured, and its commander paraded as a spy. Do you know what they want to do to you?”
“Er, no, sir.” Jim had not thought of what would happen beyond a trial. He felt a very strong desire never to need to find out the Empire’s penalty for espionage.
“They want to give you a medal.”
“A medal? That’s absurd!”
“Perhaps. But—”
“I can’t accept a medal from the Klingon Empire!”
STAR TREK: TOS - Enterprise, The First Adventure Page 37