Legacies

by Greg Cox

  Kirk found her proposal worrying. Was she simply attempting to put their minds to rest, or was she actually not quite as confident about those coordinates as she purported to be?

  “Belay that,” Kirk said. “No offense, Captain, but I’m not inclined to let you have that control room to yourself, Key or no Key. I’m going with you.”

  “No offense taken, Kirk. I’ve given you little reason to trust me. But perhaps Mister Spock should wait and follow after us—in the unlikely event that I’ve miscalculated. There’s no need to risk all three of us at once.”

  “A reasonable precaution,” Spock said, “but it might be wiser if Captain Kirk waits while you and I go first.”

  Kirk wasn’t having it. “You know me better than that, Spock.” He spoke into his communicator. “All right, Mister Kyle. Beam Captain Una and me to the specified coordinates.”

  “Not Mister Spock?” Kyle asked.

  “Not yet, Lieutenant.”

  “Acknowledged, sir. Energizing now.”

  * * *

  The scintillating glow of twin transporter beams lit up the control room before twinkling away. Kirk was relieved to find himself standing in one piece on the other side of the door, as opposed to being painfully merged with a wall or computer terminal. Pausing to get his bearings, he took in the sight of a large circular chamber, lined with blank, dead viewscreens and dominated by a tall transparent cylinder that stretched all the way to the ceiling. A series of tiered levels led up to a control pedestal at the base of the column. A musty, stale atmosphere permeated the chamber, as though it had been hermetically sealed for a long, long time.

  “Is this it?” he asked Una.

  “The master control room,” she confirmed. “Exactly as we left it years ago.”

  Her voice trailed off as she spied a large, oddly shaped scorch mark on the floor. An unreadable expression came over her face as she gazed at the charred floor tiles for a moment or two before looking away.

  “Congratulations, Captain,” Kirk said. “You made it here after all.”

  “Yes,” she said in a hushed tone. “Finally.”

  Kirk decided not to leave poor Kyle in suspense any longer. “Transport successful,” he said into his communicator. He and Una cleared away to make room for another arrival. “You can beam over Mister Spock.”

  “Aye, Captain. Energizing.”

  A transitory column of energy deposited Spock in the control room as well. Like Kirk, he took a moment to inspect his new surroundings.

  “Fascinating.”

  Overcoming nostalgia, Una proceeded directly to the central column, which sat atop a complicated control station resting on a large pedestal. Kirk and Spock followed her up a ramp to the controls, which were labeled in an incomprehensible alien script that might as well have been some obscure Aenar dialect as far as Kirk was concerned. None of the controls made any sense to him.

  “Do you really think you can operate this?” he asked Una.

  “I’ve spent close to two decades studying my recordings of the Jatohr’s language and technology, aided by continuing advances in translation algorithms and your own experiences in transporting from one parallel universe to another.” Una situated herself before the controls. “I may not be the revolutionary genius the late Professor Eljor was, but I think I’ve got the basics down.”

  Kirk felt time ticking away. The Klingons were only getting closer.

  “Prove it.”

  She chuckled. “Try and stop me.”

  Don’t tempt me, he thought. Despite Una’s confidence, they were messing with alien tech from a completely different reality. His own experiences in a certain barbaric mirror universe—and with that universe’s Tantalus Field device—were enough to make him acutely aware of just how dangerous such tampering could be. He was by no means certain that he was making the right call here.

  She held out her hand. “The Key?”

  Taking a deep breath, Kirk handed it over. In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought. Let’s see if she can do this.

  An empty slot in the control panel matched the rectangular outline of the Key. Considering the towering apparatus before him, Kirk found it hard to accept that this one small component could be so crucial to the entire operation. Then again, he reflected, the Enterprise’s colossal warp engines were worthless without a dilithium crystal small enough to fit into a coffee mug.

  Una placed the Key back where it belonged. At once, the dormant control room began to awaken. Dead screens and display panels lit up, so that the chamber felt more like the engine room of a starship than a forgotten tomb. Unknown energies manifested inside the towering cylinder, forming seemingly random three-dimensional shapes and patterns. They hummed and crackled sporadically.

  “Well, now you’ve done it,” Kirk said. “I suppose that’s a good sign.”

  “Hold your applause for a while longer,” she advised. “I’m reactivating the generator, but I still have to locate my lost comrades and reverse the transfer effect that carried them away.”

  “Presumably without bringing the Jatohr back as well,” Kirk said.

  “The mechanism allowed the operator to select the subjects to be transferred. That should apply in reverse as well.” She eyed the amorphous shapes inside the main cylinder. “And, needless to say, I will be watching carefully for anything resembling a restless gastropod.”

  Spock observed the procedure over her shoulder. “Do you require assistance?”

  “No, thank you, Mister Spock. You and Captain Kirk have helped get me this far, but I can take it from here.”

  She closed her eyes momentarily, as though visualizing the operation in advance, or perhaps calling up memories of the last time she’d seen this equipment in use. She whispered something to herself, too faintly for Kirk to hear. Her eyes opened and her jaw set in determination.

  “Here goes nothing,” she said. “Cross your fingers.”

  She carefully manipulated the controls on the Key, and the entire chamber responded to her commands. The chaotic energies in the cylinder coalesced into a holographic view of an alien landscape that bore little resemblance to what Kirk had seen on Usilde so far. Instead of lush rain forests, bleached-white salt flats baked beneath two pitiless suns. Rocky, forbidding mountains loomed on the horizon, beyond a distant sprawl of hills. No sign of life, neither plant nor animal, could be spied anywhere in the desolate vista. Only dust and rock and heat.

  “What are we looking at?” Kirk asked.

  “The other universe,” Una said, gazing intently at the otherworldly scene. “By my calculations, this should be exactly where the missing officers were banished to years ago.”

  Kirk spied no trace of them. Not even their bones.

  “I’m not seeing anyone,” he said.

  “I know, I know,” she said curtly, clearly under stress. Working the controls, she called up more perspectives of the same vista on the myriad viewscreens surrounding them. Magnified scenes from a wide variety of angles supplemented the three-dimensional display in the holographic imaging cylinder, but yielded no evidence of the long-lost Starfleet personnel. “I’m trying to find them.”

  He and Spock exchanged concerned looks. A positive outcome was looking less likely by the moment.

  “Are you certain you have the right location?” Kirk asked gently. “Another world is a big place, let alone another universe.”

  “This is the only place I know to look,” she insisted. “The place they were sent all those years ago.” Una’s celebrated composure cracked as she vented her frustration. “They have to be here, damn it. They have to be!”

  “But even if they have survived,” Spock said, “there is no telling where they might have ended up after all this time. Indeed, the location on display appears to be distinctly barren and inhospitable. It is reasonable to suppose that they might have eventually been
forced to relocate, willingly or unwillingly.”

  “More than reasonable.” Kirk realized that Una’s master plan had always been something of a long shot. “I suppose it was unrealistic to expect that they would just sit tight waiting to be rescued for nearly two decades”

  “You think I never thought of that?” Una snapped. “But this was my only hope . . . my last hope.”

  Kirk’s heart went out to her. He didn’t entirely approve of her methods, but he couldn’t fault her stubborn desire to do right by her lost comrades. Nobody but another Starfleet captain, perhaps, could understand what she was going through now. That her obsessive quest to save those people looked to be ending in failure was more than just a damned shame; it was a tragedy.

  “You did your best,” he offered by way of consolation. “Above and beyond the call of duty.”

  That was no exaggeration. She had risked her life, her reputation, even her career in Starfleet to save nine people from exile in an alien reality. Kirk could respect that choice and wished profoundly that those sacrifices had not been in the service of a lost cause.

  “No,” she insisted, refusing to give up. “I can find them. I know I can.” Images flicked by on the screens, one after another. “I just need more time.”

  “That’s the one thing I can’t give you,” Kirk said. “The Klingons will be here in—”

  He glanced over at Spock, who supplied the precise data.

  “Twenty-point-two minutes.”

  That was already calling it closer than Kirk liked. “You heard the man. We have to get back to the Enterprise.”

  She shook her head.

  “You do. I don’t have to.”

  Kirk disagreed. “We can’t just leave you here, where the Klingons might find you . . . and the Key.”

  “You misunderstand me,” she said. “I’m not proposing that I stay here on Usilde. I’m volunteering to continue my search over there.” She indicated the alien wasteland depicted inside the looming cylinder. “In the other universe.”

  Spock caught on. “You mean to use the Key to transfer yourself to the other reality.”

  “It’s the only course left to me,” she said. “The trail has gone cold here. I need to pick it up over there.” She squared her shoulders. “If all goes as planned, I’ll be far from here if and when the Klingons show up.”

  “But you’re talking a one-way trip,” Kirk protested. “Even if you do track down those people over there, after so many years, you’ll be trapped there along with them. How do you expect to get back to our universe?”

  She had it all figured out.

  “That’s where you come in, Kirk. If you take the Key with you when you leave, but return to Usilde, say, sixty days from now, you may find me and the others waiting for you, right where you left me.”

  He contemplated the desolate salt plains occupying the viewscreens. “In other words, the plan is for us to come back and pick you up at a designated rendezvous spot, after you’ve had time to locate and retrieve the others?”

  “Precisely,” she said.

  “But what if you can’t find them,” he asked, “or we can’t come back?”

  The latter was a very real possibility, with the Klingons laying claim to the sector and the Organian peace talks coming up. There was a good chance that Usilde could end up on the wrong side of a newly drawn border.

  “That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Una said. “And it’s not as though I have a lot to lose at this point, considering.” She shrugged. “And, frankly, exploring an alien universe beats commanding a desk back at Starfleet HQ.”

  Kirk had to chuckle at that. “Spoken like a starship captain.”

  “Let me do this, Kirk,” she pleaded. “I can’t turn back now. I have to go forward . . . or I’ll never be able to live with myself.”

  A chirp from his communicator intruded on the discussion. “Kirk here,” he responded. “What is it?”

  “Bad news, Captain,” Scotty’s voice answered. “The Klingons are here, ahead of schedule, the rude blackguards. They’ve just entered the system and are heading toward us like bats out of hell, if you’ll pardon the expression. They’ll be on us at any minute, sir.”

  So much for having time to spare.

  “Raise shields immediately,” Kirk ordered, “and get my ship out of here. Do not engage the Klingons, do you understand me? Head back to neutral territory at warp speed . . . and don’t be afraid to step on the gas.”

  “But, Captain,” Scotty said. “What about you and Mister Spock? And Captain Una?”

  A Klingon battle cruiser, Kirk knew, came equipped with disruptor cannons and photon torpedoes. And Starfleet Intelligence had it that the Empire was constantly working on expanding the range of their weapons.

  “Raise those shields now, Mister Scott. That’s an order.” He lifted his gaze to the ceiling as though he could see the Enterprise in peril. “Don’t worry about us. Spock and I will catch up with you in the Shimizu if we can.”

  He didn’t bother to mention that the courier ship was kilometers away across hostile terrain. Scotty and the others didn’t need to know that.

  “And Captain Una, sir?”

  There was no time to update Scotty on Una’s audacious proposal. “Just get moving, Scotty, before the Federation’s truce with the Klingons gets blasted to atoms.”

  “Aye, sir. Good luck to ye all. Scott out.”

  The transmission ended, leaving Kirk to hope that the Enterprise would be out of range in no time at all. Frustration churned in his gut; being stuck down on the planet while his ship was in jeopardy was a form of torture worse than any the Klingons could devise. He belonged on the bridge.

  But there was no way around it. He had to trust in Scotty and the rest of the Enterprise’s highly capable crew while dealing with Una’s proposition here in the alien control room.

  “You sound like you’ve made your decision,” she said. “Or did I hear you wrong?”

  “No. You heard right.” He looked Una squarely in her eyes. “This is your quest. If you want to take it to the end, I’m not going to stop you. And I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be doing you any favors by dragging you back to the Federation to face a court-martial.” He nodded at the machinery before her. “Get on with it.”

  “Thank you, Kirk,” she said. “I hope you never find yourself in similar circumstances, caught between your duty to your uniform . . . and your loyalty to your crew.”

  “Give me time.” Kirk handed her his phaser. “You may need this where you’re going.”

  She accepted the weapon with a smile. Along with the phaser, she was equipped with a tricorder and a pack of Starfleet survival gear. Kirk wished he could provide her with more.

  “Thank goodness I managed to hang on to my boots,” she said. “You have no idea how close I came to having to leave them behind a few times.”

  Kirk didn’t ask her to explain. “I’ll take your word for it.”

  She fitted the phaser to her hip and went to work. Her hands confidently manipulated the baffling alien controls, and her own image replaced the sun-blasted landscape in the cylinder and on the screens. No trace of trepidation registered on her elegant features, only a steadfast determination to follow this path wherever it led, even if that meant exiling herself to another universe.

  “The Klingons are bound to detect this citadel now that the generator is up and running again,” she warned them. “You’re going to need to find the launch bay and commandeer one of the Jatohr pods to get away before the Klingons arrive.”

  She quickly and concisely provided them a description of the landing bay and its approximate location in relation to the control room. Kirk absorbed as much of the intel as he could and was confident that Spock had memorized the rest.

  “Got it,” he said. “But you need to get going if you’re going to do this.” />
  “That’s not in question, Captain. Just don’t forget to come back for me—for us—if you can.”

  “I’ll do my best,” he promised.

  “That’s all I ask, and more than I could have hoped for.” She prepared to take her leave of them. “Good luck, Captain Kirk, Mister Spock.”

  Spock offered his former crewmate a Vulcan salute. “Live long and prosper, Number One.”

  “Don’t doubt it,” she replied. “I’ll be back.”

  A twist of a knob caused her image to flip to a photo-negative image of herself on the various monitors. Her finger hesitated only for a moment above a solitary blue button on the Key’s control panel. She took a deep breath and pressed it.

  She vanished in a blink of light.

  “I wish her success,” Spock said quietly, “although I fear the odds are against her.”

  “Maybe,” Kirk said, “but I wouldn’t bet against her.”

  “Nor would I,” Spock confessed.

  Captain Una was gone, “removed” to another universe, but the eminent arrival of the Klingons remained a danger in this reality. Kirk knew that he and Spock were on borrowed time when it came to having the citadel to themselves.

  “Grab the Key,” he ordered Spock. “We need to get to those pods she told us about.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” Spock deftly removed the Key from its slot in the control column. The machinery around them began to power down in an orderly fashion, with the central cylinder going dark, followed, one at a time, by the various viewscreens. The humming and crackling from the cylinder fell silent.

  Spock handed the Key to Kirk, who secured it to his belt. It felt good to have the device back in his custody again.

  Now if I can just keep it away from the Klingons.

  An explosion went off somewhere above them, causing dust and debris to rain down from the ceiling. Warning lights went off around the control room. An automated voice sounded stridently:

  “Intruder alert! Intruder alert! The sanctuary has been breached!”

  A jolt of adrenaline shot through Kirk’s veins. It was easy to guess who the intruders in question were.