Legacies

by Greg Cox

  “Your argument would be more convincing if I actually knew what you’re attempting to accomplish.”

  “Again, it’s better that you don’t know.”

  “That’s not good enough,” Kirk said, losing patience. “And it’s not your decision to make.” He chose his words carefully. “What you . . . acquired . . . from my ship was my responsibility now. You had no right to proceed without my permission.”

  “Granted, but I wished to spare you that choice, and I couldn’t take the chance that you would deny my request.”

  Which implied that he might have wanted to if he’d actually known what she had in mind. Kirk did not find that reassuring. Whatever Una was up to, it was something she had expected him to object to. Perhaps with good reason?

  “Consider yourself relieved of the responsibility, Kirk. This is on my head now. Una out.”

  Her face vanished from the screen as she cut off the transmission.

  “Captain,” Spock said. “I have been scanning the configuration of the Shimizu’s shields. They appear to have been programmed to repeatedly and rapidly cycle through a series of field harmonics, along with corresponding modulations to the graviton polarities, in order to increase their ‘slipperiness’ as Mister Chekov said. But I believe I have discerned a pattern to the frequency shifts, and should be able to adjust our own tactical responses accordingly.”

  Kirk cut through the scientific details. “And the bottom line is . . . ?”

  “I believe I may be able to lock a tractor beam on the Shimizu if we can get close enough for a sufficient duration. To be more precise, a distance of approximately one point seven kilometers for a period of at least two point six minutes.”

  Kirk felt a surge of hope. Locking onto the Shimizu with a tractor beam was vastly preferable to blowing it out of the sky. Maybe there was still a way to end this crisis without harm to anything except, perhaps, Captain Una’s sterling reputation.

  “Do it,” he ordered. “Mister Chekov, transfer tractor controls to the science station.” He gazed resolutely at the ship on the screen, whose sleek contours could now be made out. “Mister Sulu, bring us closer to the Shimizu.”

  “Aye, sir!”

  The Enterprise accelerated toward the other ship, which suddenly banked to the left and vanished from sight.

  “Sulu,” Kirk prompted.

  “I’m on it,” the helmsman said. The Enterprise changed course to match the Shimizu’s evasive maneuver, and Kirk waited tensely for Una’s ship to reappear on the screen.

  And waited . . .

  “I don’t understand,” Chekov said. “Where is she?”

  “Behind us,” Spock announced, staring at his sensor readings. “She dropped out of warp as soon as she was out of our way, so that we shot past her at warp speed.”

  Clever, Kirk thought, admiring her ingenuity despite everything. He recalled that she’d been Pike’s helmsman as well as his first officer. She’s got more experience than Spock and I put together, so I can’t afford to underestimate her. Who knows what tricks she’s picked up over the years?

  “Back around, Mister Sulu!” he ordered. “Keep after her!”

  “Aye, sir!”

  Turning the bow of the ship upward, Sulu executed a partial loop that sent the Enterprise zooming back the way they’d come. Kirk thanked Starfleet engineering for the artificial gravity that kept up and down firmly in place no matter how the ship was oriented in space. Otherwise, Sulu’s barnstorming maneuvers might have felt like an old-fashioned roller-coaster ride, and they’d all be crashing into the ceiling.

  “The Shimizu?” Kirk asked. “Have we lost her?”

  “Not yet.” Spock peered into his scope. “I still have her on my sensors.”

  Good, Kirk thought. Una had bought herself a little extra time with her creative piloting, but what did she truly hope to accomplish by such moves? They were still hours away from the Korinar Sector, so how much of a head start could she hope to gain?

  “Is she still on course for the disputed region?” he asked.

  “Negative,” Spock stated. “She is veering toward a nearby solar system.”

  “What system?” Kirk demanded. “An inhabited one?”

  Could Una be attempting to rendezvous with accomplices, or perhaps seeking sanctuary on some unknown world? Kirk wasn’t aware of any major civilizations in this region, but Starfleet had hardly charted every Class-M planet in the quadrant. The galaxy remained full of strange new worlds waiting to be discovered.

  “Negative,” Spock reported. “Sensors indicate that the system is a stellar graveyard with a solitary white dwarf at its center. Any inner planets were surely destroyed when the star swelled into its red-giant stage billions of years ago, long before it collapsed under its own weight. Only a few outer planets remain, held in place by the white star’s gravity. A gas giant and an assortment of smaller planets, planetoids, moons, and asteroids.”

  A white dwarf was the last stop on many a star’s life-cycle: the cooling, super-dense remains of a once-vibrant sun. Like a grave marker in space.

  “A dead system,” Kirk said. “What could she be after there?”

  “Cover?” Spock suggested. “Even a sparse system offers more opportunities to hide and duck behind than open space. She may be counting on the Shimizu’s smaller size and increased maneuverability to help her elude our weapons and tractor beams.”

  Like darting from cover to cover during a firefight, Kirk thought. Una’s not making this easy on us.

  “Approaching system,” Chekov reported. On the viewscreen, the white dwarf was barely visible in the distance. Roughly the size of Earth, the incredibly dense stellar remnant still had the mass of a much larger star. “Look! There’s the Shimizu.”

  Kirk caught a glimpse of the fleeing spacecraft before it disappeared behind an ice planet at the outer fringes of the system.

  “Slow to impulse,” Kirk ordered, “and stay on her tail.”

  Barreling into a solar system, even a lifeless one, at warp speed was a recipe for disaster, so they had no choice but to slow down, especially if they were going to play cat-and-mouse with the Shimizu across the system. But the smaller craft couldn’t go back to warp either, not without leaving the shelter of the system’s varied moons and planets.

  “Maybe we can cut her off at the pass,” Sulu suggested.

  “Whatever works,” Kirk said. A highly fluid situation like this one, where the variables were constantly changing, was no time to micromanage his crew. Kirk found he often got better results by trusting his people to do their jobs to the best of their abilities. “At your discretion, Helmsman.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.” A cocky grin indicated that Sulu appreciated the vote of confidence. “Hold on tight.”

  Instead of pursuing the Shimizu around to the other side of the planet, whose very atmosphere was likely frozen due to its distance from its collapsed sun, the Enterprise sped forward, hoping to intercept the courier when it came out from behind the cover of the lifeless world. Kirk didn’t like losing sight of the Shimizu, even for a moment, but if they could get in front of the other ship, it would be worth the risk. He was in no mood to play tag with the Shimizu for heaven knew how long.

  “Ready on that tractor beam, Mister Spock.”

  “Affirmative, Captain,” he replied. “Standing by.”

  At least she can’t be planning to touch down on the planet, Kirk thought. The Shimizu was designed for planetary landings since, like a shuttlecraft, it wasn’t equipped with its own transporters, but the desolate ice world before them offered nothing in the way of habitation or shelter, which made him wonder if there was any reason that Una had ventured into this particular system. Had she chosen it at random, on the spur of the moment, or was she up to something?

  Knowing Una, he suspected the latter.

  “Here she comes!�
�� Chekov blurted as the Shimizu shot out from behind the planet less than a few kilo­meters away from the Enterprise.

  “Now, Spock!” Kirk said.

  The science officer shook his head. “Not possible. I need another minute to synchronize our polarities.”

  But Una seemed uninclined to grant them that minute. Taking full advantage of the three-dimensional nature of spaceflight, the Shimizu dived sharply at a forty-five-degree angle to put more distance between herself and the Enterprise before swerving abruptly to port, forcing Sulu to match heading and speed without warning. Yeoman Bates stumbled, losing her balance. Lieutenant Charlene Masters, who was posted at the engineering station, called out to Kirk.

  “Captain, these maneuvers are placing a severe strain on the inertial dampers, not to mention the subspace field coils. Our engines weren’t built to keep up with that high-speed courier.”

  “Understood,” Kirk answered, trusting Scotty to hold things together in engineering long enough for them to snare the Shimizu and bring this maddening chase to a close. He tapped his foot impatiently against the deck. “Sulu?”

  “I’m trying, Captain, but it’s like chasing an old-time jet fighter with a jumbo jet,” Sulu said, betraying his passion for aviation history. “There’s no question that we can outlast her in the long run, but she’s definitely making us work for it.”

  Kirk could wish that Una was less intrepid.

  “She’s switched course again,” Chekov reported. “Heading for the gas giant.”

  The viewer confirmed the young Russian’s announcement. Moving like a bat out of hell, and darting about just as unpredictably, the Shimizu plunged into orbit around the immense ball of gas, which dwarfed both ships by several orders of magnitude. Swirling brown and yellow clouds, each large enough to swallow several Earth-sized planets, mottled the giant’s churning atmosphere as the swift, small spacecraft weaved in and out of the planet’s numerous moons and debris rings. The distances between the obstacles were still vast by most standards, but required careful navigation nonetheless.

  Kirk had to admire Una’s fancy flying at the same time that her stubborn efforts to evade the Enterprise grated on his nerves. Still hot on the Shimizu’s tail, the Enterprise came in closer to the gas giant, which practically filled the viewscreen until Spock helpfully reduced the magnification by several degrees.

  “The tractor beam?” Kirk asked.

  “The Shimizu’s evasive tactics are defeating my efforts,” Spock confessed, “as the planet’s myriad satellites are repeatedly obstructing our tractor beams.” A note of grudging admiration entered his voice. “I recall her employing a similar strategy some years ago when our shuttlecraft was ambushed by an Orion slaver vessel while scouting an uncharted system in the Beta Quadrant. She managed to elude capture long enough for Captain Pike and the Enterprise to come to our assistance, forcing the Orions to retreat.”

  Kirk vaguely remembered reading about the incident in Pike’s logs. “Number One” had received a commendation for keeping the shuttlecraft and its passengers safe from the Orions. Kirk was less impressed now that the trick was being used against him.

  “But what does she hope to gain by stalling this time around?” he asked aloud. “She must know we’ll go back to warp the minute she bolts from this system.”

  Chekov inspected his sensor readings. “You don’t think she’s expecting reinforcements, do you?”

  “I doubt it,” Kirk said. “She said she was working alone, and I’m inclined to believe her. But keep a lookout for any other vessels entering the system.” He turned toward Uhura. “You too, Lieutenant.”

  “My ears are open,” she promised. “Trust me, sir, you’ll be the first to know if I hear strangers on their way.”

  Bates reentered the command well, joining Kirk and McCoy. She prudently kept one hand on a safety rail. “Should we try to force her out of the system?” she asked. “Or will that just prolong the chase?”

  “Good question, Yeoman,” Kirk replied. “She can’t keep ducking behind moons forever, and she’s running out of cover.”

  Beyond the gas giant, nothing remained between it and the white dwarf except empty space occupied only by the drifting gas and dust left behind when the star shed most of its outer layers during its contraction. The expelled matter would have formed a planetary nebula, which had gradually dissipated over vast stretches of time, while any inner planets had been cremated millions of years earlier, during the star’s final expansion before its collapse. Una could find no more cover in the dead zone surrounding the white dwarf; she had gone as deep as she could into the system.

  “Keep a sharp watch,” Kirk instructed Sulu. “Don’t let her double back to the outer planets, or we’ll be right back where we started.”

  “Understood, Captain,” the helmsman said. “I’ve got better things to do than play hide-and-seek all day.”

  Don’t we all, Kirk thought. He shifted restlessly in his chair, feeling certain that Captain Una had another trick in store for them. But what was she planning next?

  “I could go in closer to the planet,” Sulu volunteered.

  “And play tag amidst its moons and gravity wells?” Kirk shook his head. “The Shimizu has the advantage on us there. We’re better off waiting her out.”

  As it happened, they didn’t have to wait long.

  “Captain!” Chekov said. “She’s making a break for it!”

  Kirk experienced a fresh rush of adrenaline. “Out of the system?”

  “No, sir.” Puzzlement could be heard in Chekov’s voice. “She’s heading deeper into the system, toward the dead star.”

  Kirk reeled back in surprise. “What?”

  For a horrifying moment, he feared that Una meant to destroy herself and the Key. Was that the closure she had alluded to earlier? But, no, that didn’t make sense, he realized. If Una had simply wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, taking the Key with her, there were far easier ways to go about that than diving into the crushing gravity of a white dwarf.

  “Has she lost her A-number-one mind?” McCoy exclaimed. “What is she thinking?”

  “The hell if I know,” Kirk said. “Follow her, Sulu, as close as we dare.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Sulu responded. “Continuing pursuit.”

  This could still be our chance, Kirk thought. Now that she was clear of any planets or moons, perhaps they could finally catch up with her long enough for Spock to grab her with a tractor beam—and drag the Shimizu back into the Enterprise’s hangar deck.

  “It’s too late, Captain,” Chekov said, audibly aghast. “She’s going to warp!”

  “Toward the star?” Kirk didn’t understand. “That can’t be—”

  Spock figured it out faster than anyone else.

  “Slingshot,” he said, looking up from his own sensor readings. Even his perpetually calm voice sounded hushed by the revelation. “She means to achieve a slingshot effect.”

  Kirk couldn’t believe his ears. The slingshot maneuver was an incredibly risky and frankly desperate stunt that involved flying a vessel at high speed dangerously close to a star and then breaking away at the last minute, so that the star’s intense gravitational field would accelerate the vessel away from the star with tremendous force. Rarely attempted, and only in the direst of circumstances, a slingshot effect could even break the time barrier and propel a ship into the past or future.

  “To travel through time?” Kirk asked.

  “Possibly,” Spock said. “Or she could simply be attempting to attain a velocity that we cannot possibly match without resorting to the same extreme measures.”

  And people think I’m reckless, Kirk thought. “Is it possible? Can the Shimizu pull it off, using a white dwarf of all things?”

  “In theory, yes,” Spock said. “Despite its size, the dwarf star has sufficient mass to generate a gravitational field compa
rable to a standard main-sequence star. In which case, all else that is required is split-second timing, precise calculations, and a mind capable of performing the necessary computations.”

  “Which Una has,” Kirk said, “in spades.”

  “Unquestionably,” Spock stated, although a trace of worry showed through his Vulcan reserve. “There is virtually no margin for error, however, and Captain Una will require a healthy degree of luck as well.”

  McCoy gave him an incredulous look. “I thought Vulcans didn’t believe in luck.”

  “When attempting a slingshot maneuver, Doctor, luck is always a factor.”

  As we know from personal experience, Kirk thought. The Enterprise had barely survived the maneuver last year, when they’d used it to return to the present after an unplanned trip to the twentieth century. As far as Kirk knew, the Enterprise was the only Starfleet vessel to attempt the feat, let alone come through it in one piece. The harrowing stunt had nearly torn the ship apart.

  “On screen,” he ordered. “Full magnification.”

  Spock deftly operated his control panel. “Increasing magnification to full.”

  The Shimizu appeared on the viewer, accelerating away from the Enterprise at warp speed. The gleaming, compact spacecraft looked none the worse for wear after careening wildly through the solar system, but was it sturdy enough to survive what lay ahead? A breathless hush fell over the bridge as Una’s ship dived into a tight orbit around the dense white dwarf, flying opposite the dead star’s own rotation in order to achieve a reverse slingshot effect. For a seemingly endless moment, the Shimizu could be seen streaking against the cold, faint radiance of the white dwarf . . . and then it vanished from sight.

  “She’s gone!” Chekov exclaimed. “I’ve lost her!”

  “Likewise,” Spock said. “She has disappeared from even our long-range sensors.”

  “But to where?” Kirk asked anxiously. “The future? The past?”