by Greg Cox
“Here we are,” Kirk said. “I imagine you’d like a chance to rest and freshen up after your long trip.”
“A fair assessment,” she said. “I am feeling somewhat fatigued and, in any event, I’ve detained you long enough. You surely have more important duties to attend to.”
Kirk started to protest, but she held up a hand to ward off any polite demurrals.
“Please. As one Starfleet captain to another, I know how precious your time is.” The door slid open, offering a glimpse of the stateroom beyond, which included both a living/work area as well as bath and sleeping compartments. “See to your ship, Kirk. I can take it from here.”
“All right,” he said. “On one condition: that you call me Jim.”
“Fair enough . . . Jim.” She deposited her carryall in the foyer of the suite, just past the doorway. “And my friends call me Una.”
She shifted her gaze from Kirk to Spock.
“Or sometimes Number One.”
Two
“Is now a good time?” Una asked Spock.
The reception, which was being held in the main rec room, had been under way for some time. Officers and enlisted personnel mingled freely, sipping brightly colored drinks while sampling a buffet of exotic hors d’oeuvres from the ship’s galley, including Antosian puff pastries, Rigelian caviar, Illyrian mango slices, and bite-sized cucumber sandwiches. Given that the crew was already overdue for shore leave, Spock judged the festivities good for morale, which he had gradually come to realize was a significant issue with respect to humans and other more emotional species. The party was, of course, being held in honor of Captain Una, who certainly merited such hospitality.
“To have that private conversation you mentioned before?”
“Precisely,” she replied.
Spock glanced around. Captain Kirk, who had been doing an impeccable job of feting his fellow captain, had been called away to the bridge, leaving Spock to play host. Doctor McCoy and the other senior officers were also otherwise engaged. McCoy had made his excuses to check on a patient in sickbay who was recovering from Cygnian measles, while Scott, Sulu, and Uhura were presently socializing by the punchbowl; Spock’s keen hearing informed him that the men were attempting to cajole Uhura into treating them to a song. The communications officer, whose musical gifts were considerable, was politely demurring, but sounded willing to be persuaded. Other crew members joined in the effort, which suggested that this might indeed be an opportune moment to converse privately with Una.
“If you wish, Captain.”
It required a degree of effort not to address her as “Number One.” Old habits, it seemed, truly did die hard.
“Good,” she said. “It’s been a pleasure socializing with your captain and crewmates, but I have been waiting for the opportunity to talk with you one-on-one.”
“I am at your disposal.”
They retreated to a quiet corner of the room, away from the upcoming musical entertainment, and claimed an unoccupied table littered with discarded plates and glasses. Spock noted that she too had abstained from the dubious benefits of alcohol, preferring a glass of pure Altair water instead. She cleared a place for her drink as they sat down opposite each other.
“Is this private enough to suit you?” he inquired.
She surveyed their surroundings. “It will do, unless this turns into a discussion of some length.”
“I cannot accurately predict its duration without knowing the topic.”
“Naturally,” she agreed. Lowering her voice, she got to the point with characteristic efficiency. “I have questions about Captain Pike.”
“I anticipated as much.”
Number One had been arguably closer to Pike than Spock had been during the 11.53 years they had all served together on the Enterprise. There had even been occasional rumors of a romantic attraction between the captain and his first officer, although Spock had always dismissed such talk as frivolous human gossip and irrelevant in any case; certainly, he had never personally observed any lapse in professionalism where their working relationship was concerned. Nevertheless, he well understood the deep loyalty that Pike had earned from his crew. That same loyalty had compelled Spock to risk his own life and career for Pike’s sake.
“I heard about his accident, of course,” she said. “But I was in the Beta Quadrant, on a protracted peacekeeping mission, when the tragedy occurred, so I was unable to immediately go to see him in the hospital.” Sorrow cracked her stoic façade to a degree; her voice grew hoarse with emotion. “And, in all honesty, I was uncertain if he would even want me to see him in . . . the state he was in. Not that it could have possibly lessened my regard for him in any way, but I was conscious of his pride and dignity. Perhaps too much so.”
Ice-blue eyes grew moist and she needed a moment to compose herself. She took a sip from her water glass.
“His condition was . . . disturbing,” Spock conceded, recalling the debilitated state he had found Pike in following the captain’s near-fatal accident aboard a Starfleet training ship. His body ravaged by a massive overdose of delta rays, Pike’s still-vibrant mind had been trapped inside a scarred, paralyzed husk, barely capable of communicating even with the aid of electronic devices. Pike’s nervous system had been so severely damaged by the radiation that even the most advanced prosthetic interfaces had been of little use. Spock was not ashamed to admit that Pike’s grievous condition had touched even his tightly reined emotions. “It troubled me as well.”
“So I gathered.” She eyed him intently. “I know that you and Kirk visited him at a medical facility on Starbase 11, but what happened after that is classified. The available record holds only that Chris—Captain Pike—somehow went missing after being taken aboard the Enterprise for reasons unknown. And despite my own inquiries, both official and otherwise, I have been unable to determine any more than that.”
Spock hesitated, torn between the temptation to tell her the whole truth and his duty to protect Starfleet’s secrets. If anyone deserved to know what had truly become of Christopher Pike, it was this woman, who had been at his right hand through more than a decade of dangers and discoveries, and yet . . .
“As you say, the matter is classified.”
“I understand that, and I have no desire to place you in an uncomfortable position, so just answer me one question, yes or no.” She braced herself for the answer, before he could even accede to her request. “He’s with Vina now, isn’t he?”
There was no hint of jealousy in her voice, only an urgent need for the truth that Spock could not in good conscience deny.
He nodded.
“Thank you, Spock.” Her tense posture relaxed, as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She smiled sadly, while wiping away a single tear. “That’s all I needed to know.”
Clearly, she had already surmised the truth, requiring only that he confirm her supposition. A thought occurred to him and he had to wonder: Had she not been detained in the Beta Quadrant and unable to get to Pike first, might she have resorted to the same drastic measures he had taken to secure a happier outcome for their former captain? Her resolve and her loyalty to Pike were as steadfast as his own, if not more so.
This was pure speculation, of course. Logically, there was no way of knowing what might have occurred under different circumstances, but Spock felt strangely certain that, had he not commandeered the Enterprise on Pike’s behalf, the Yorktown might well have made an unauthorized voyage to Talos IV.
“Let me ask you one question as well,” he said. “Was this inquiry the actual motive behind your visit to the Enterprise?”
“Guilty as charged, Mister Spock. Why else?”
* * *
She regretted lying to Spock, although she’d had no choice but to do so. The deception still troubled her the following morning as she prepared to attain her true objective, while alone with her
thoughts in the VIP suite Captain Kirk had generously provided. Repaying Spock’s honesty with a falsehood stung her conscience.
Let’s hope he can forgive me someday, she thought, after what’s to come.
Not that she had entirely misled Spock at the reception; she had merely told him half of the truth. She had genuinely needed to confirm her suspicions regarding the whereabouts of Christopher Pike, but that had not been the only measure of closure she was in dire search of. There was even older business that she needed to attend to, while she still had the chance. And that was not a matter that she could safely share with Spock . . . or anyone.
Her guest quarters aboard the Enterprise were as comfortable as promised and, more importantly, suited her needs perfectly. Among its amenities was a desk with a computer access terminal, which she made ready use of.
“Computer. Specify location of Captain James T. Kirk.”
“Captain Kirk is presently on the bridge,” the computer responded. Despite the seriousness of her mission, Una was amused to hear a rather robotic version of her own voice answer her; apparently no one had altered the voice parameters since she and Spock had installed them, using her own voice as a baseline, several years ago.
“And First Officer Spock?”
“Commander Spock is also on the bridge.”
She winced a little at the computer’s cold, mechanical tone. I don’t really sound like that, do I?
Still, she had confirmed that Kirk and Spock were both exactly where they ought to be at the moment. Given that it was approximately ten hundred hours, well into the alpha shift, this was to be expected, but she had wanted to verify that regardless. She could not afford to take any chances, not after waiting and planning this for so long.
It’s time, she thought. At last.
She had been tempted to make her move last night, right after excusing herself from the reception, but prudence had won out over impatience. This endeavor was eighteen years in the making; a few more hours would not have made any difference, no matter how anxious she’d been to get on with it.
It was no coincidence that she had just happened to cross the Enterprise’s path at this particular juncture. Every step of this operation had been carefully planned, leaving nothing to chance, and now she had reached the point of no return.
Time to cross the Rubicon, she thought.
Stepping away from the computer, she took one last look around the guest quarters to make sure that she had not forgotten anything that might betray her larger design. Attired in her everyday uniform, she exited the suite. As she had no intention of ever returning, she took her carryall bag with her. She had everything she needed for the expedition ahead, aside from one last item.
Fortunately, she knew just where to find it.
As she made her way through the Enterprise’s bustling corridors, she couldn’t help comparing her present surroundings to her own vivid memories of this very same ship. The colors were cheerier, with bright red doors and trimmings as opposed to the uniform blue-gray look of years gone by, and the halls more crowded than she remembered. Under Pike and April, the Enterprise had carried a crew of approximately two hundred. Now, like the Yorktown, it housed more than twice that number—none of whom had any idea what she was truly up to.
It was better that way, for their sakes.
To her relief, her presence in the halls attracted only minimal attention. Stray crew members acknowledged her respectfully, but nobody questioned her or offered unwanted assistance. She was a visiting Starfleet captain after all; why wouldn’t she have the run of the ship? As expected, people assumed that she was simply going about her own business.
A turbolift took her down one deck to where the senior officers were quartered. She walked briskly but with feigned casualness to the door of Kirk’s personal quarters. There was not much foot traffic around her at this time of day; still, she waited patiently until the coast was clear before knocking once on the door, just to be safe. Kirk was on the bridge, but Una wanted to make sure that helpful young yeoman wasn’t busy fluffing the captain’s pillows or whatever. Una’s own yeoman, back on the Yorktown, knew better than to mess about in her quarters unless specifically requested to do so, but Kirk might be laxer about his privacy; in Una’s experience, every captain and yeoman arrived at their own working relationship, depending on the captain’s command style and preferences.
In any event, her knock went unanswered, so Una judged it safe to proceed. She retrieved a customized communicator from her belt; among its special modifications was a cybernetic skeleton key of her own devising. She was about to enter Kirk’s quarters when an unexpected voice interrupted her.
“Excuse me, Captain.”
Turning away from the door, she found that the voice belonged to a boyish young lieutenant who had just come trotting around the corner on an errand. Focused on the task ahead, she had carelessly failed to hear him approach. She mentally kicked herself for the lapse, which might have spoiled everything.
“If you’re looking for Captain Kirk, I believe he’s on the bridge.”
She maintained a poker face while discreetly hiding the communicator behind her back. Despite her stoic demeanor, she was sweating inside.
“Of course. I should have realized.” She mustered a casual shrug. “I guess I’m still not entirely on this ship’s clock yet . . . and am still suffering from a slight case of warp lag.”
“I can escort you to the bridge if you like,” he volunteered.
Is he suspicious, she fretted, or am I just being paranoid?
The youth seemed earnest and guileless enough, so she chose to think that all this skulking around and dissembling was simply getting to her. Straightforward by nature, she had never been much for espionage or intrigue; left to her own devices, she preferred a more direct approach to any situation.
Alas, that was not possible in this instance.
“That won’t be necessary, Lieutenant. I know the way.”
“It’s no problem, Captain. I’m going that way myself.”
Una repressed a few choice Illyrian curse words. Was all of Kirk’s crew so inconveniently helpful? She glanced up and down the corridor, weighing her options. The last thing she wanted was for Kirk to hear that she had been loitering outside his quarters for no good reason. What if he or Spock put two and two together and guessed what she was actually after?
That just wouldn’t do.
“Very well. After you, Lieutenant . . . ?”
“Riley, sir. Lieutenant Kevin Riley, at your service.”
She let him step ahead of her, leading the way, before dropping him to the deck with a karate chop to the side of his neck. The strike wasn’t quite as efficient as a Vulcan nerve pinch, but it got the job done. The lieutenant lay crumpled at her feet.
“My apologies, Mister Riley, but you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Moving quickly, before any other crew members stumbled onto the scene, she used the skeleton key function on her communicator to crack the lock sealing Kirk’s chambers. The gray door slid open automatically, and she hastily dragged Riley’s limp body inside before dropping it gently back onto the floor. She sighed in relief as the door slid shut behind them, concealing the incriminating tableau from view.
So much for second thoughts, she reflected. There’s definitely no turning back now.
Not that there had ever really been any possibility of her changing course at this late date. In a very real sense, these events had been set in motion nearly two decades ago on an all-but-forgotten planet many light-years away, two captains of the Enterprise ago . . . .
Stepping away from the unfortunate crewman, she glanced about Kirk’s quarters, which, aside from a few personal touches, resembled her own back on the Yorktown. Potted ferns combatted the antiseptic feel of the sturdy metal bulkheads. Sculptures and knickknacks from a variety of worlds ad
ded character to the suite, which bore little resemblance to the captain’s quarters back in Pike’s day, as she remembered it from the last time she served aboard this ship. Pike’s circular stateroom had actually been larger and more spacious than Kirk’s quarters, a luxury that had been lost when the Enterprise had been refitted to accommodate a much larger crew. Kirk’s stateroom consisted of three wedge-shaped chambers divided by partitions. The layout was familiar to her, but she knew that Kirk’s quarters held one secret that was unique to the Enterprise, not to be found on any other Starfleet vessel.
But where was it hidden?
If this was still Pike’s Enterprise, she would have known exactly where to look, but the subsequent refit complicated matters, forcing her to get creative. Rescuing a tricorder from her bag, she walked slowly through Kirk’s quarters, methodically scanning for a certain item whose singular nature and composition were literally unlike anything else in the universe. Despite her legendary composure, she felt her nerves fraying as she searched the stateroom. Her heart was racing and she had to remind herself to breathe. Every moment that passed without her finding her prize added to her anxiety. Worst-case scenarios forced themselves into her mind.
What if it was not here anymore, after all these years? What if it had been accidentally destroyed during a heated space battle or near-disaster? The Enterprise had been through a lot under Kirk’s command, including run-ins with both the Klingons and the Romulans. What if this entire plan was doomed before it even began?
No, she thought adamantly. That would be too cruel.
Forgoing the shower facilities for now, she worked her way through the bed alcove and had moved on to the adjoining work area when an electronic chirp rewarded her efforts. She followed the signal to a decorative trapezoidal panel installed on the wall across from Kirk’s desk and computer station. A triumphant smile lifted the corners of her lips.
Found you.
A more in-depth scan confirmed the existence of a secret compartment behind the panel, cleverly hidden so that it could be not be found unless someone was actually looking for it. She had to congratulate Kirk, and probably Spock, on their ingenuity. It was an excellent hiding place, easily as good as the one she had devised for April so many years ago, which she and Pike had subsequently guarded before, finally, passing the secret—and the responsibility—on to Kirk when he took command of the Enterprise. She assumed that it was the 2264 refit that had forced Kirk to find a slightly new cache for the item in question.