by Tony Daniel
Kirk’s own feelings had not lessened.
At the dinner, Hannah found out about Sulu’s interest in ancient firearms and both discovered a particular fascination with blunderbuss pistols of seventeenth-century Earth. Hannah, it seemed, was a crack marksman and had competed in phaser-skeet competitions on Vesbius. Sulu was obviously smitten with Hannah, and Kirk found himself feeling jealousy. But it didn’t take Sulu long to see in which direction Hannah’s interest lay and, although his kindness to her did not wane, all flirting went out of it.
Dinner was spare by the standards of Vesbius. Kirk did not attempt to equal the feast he’d been given on the colony world, but he did order his personal cache of 2169 Saurian brandy broken out. It had been a gift from a connoisseur, perhaps the greatest of all time, and was the only beverage Kirk knew of that might be the equal of Vesbian ale.
Merling, for his part, behaved tolerably at the dinner. He spoke of the military life on Vesbius, and his role in organizing a planetary militia that he considered second to none.
“I’m not a part of the first wave of settlers, nor am I a native-born child of the planet. No, I am a veteran of the Deneb II expeditionary force,” Merling said. “We saw action during the uprising on that benighted world, and I personally commanded a charge on the rebels’ position.”
“Wasn’t that uprising notorious for the use of military nanotechnology?” Scott asked. “Using that stuff is a war crime and forbidden—and for good reason.”
“The rebels would stop at nothing,” Merling said. “They were animals. I lost a lot of men that day purely from the lack of discipline. It was my own fault. I had been lax on their training, afraid, as a young lieutenant, to push them farther than they wanted to go. It cost some of them their lives. Since that day, I have believed that a strong hand saves lives, and that discipline—of both the self and the body politic—is key.”
“Is this why you advocate replacing the Council with a single voice during the crisis and afterward?” Spock asked.
“Yes,” Merling answered, without looking at Spock. It sounded like he was spitting out something distasteful in his answer.
“There is a certain logic in your position,” said Spock. “During times of war a democratically elected leader becomes less a representative of the people and more a commander-in-chief. Those who do not go into a war organized and acting as one often live to regret this fact. Believers in democracy do not, however, think that the same logic applies to civilian life. There is a certain degree of disorder that is necessary for change and creativity to bring about advancements. Even Vulcans make room for this in our society.”
“It may be the Vulcan way, but it should not be the way of Vesbius. We Vesbians are a different breed.”
“Indeed,” Spock said. “You are. Literally.”
“Gentlemen, please let us not argue over this now,” said Hannah. “We must come together in this difficult time as best we can. It is my belief that we should use the institutions that we already have in place. On Vesbius, there is the possibility of the chancellor taking a strong hand in emergency conditions, and my father has done just that. Witness the fact that he ordered me on this voyage against my wishes. Even now, I would rather be supervising the shelter reconstruction on Vesbius. But the point remains: Many decisions have been made unilaterally—of necessity. This is one of the reasons the Exos terrorists are dissatisfied and strike out.”
“But surely they are a fringe element,” said Doctor McCoy, “who are using this situation to advance their own agenda.”
“They are,” said Hannah. “But we must not dismiss the legitimate dissent just because some choose to take it too far.”
“You were in those shelters pulling out bodies,” said McCoy, “as was I under the ballroom. If you’re truly expressing forgiveness . . .”
“I forgive, Doctor,” replied Hannah. “But I do not forget. And I will do everything in my power to prevent it from happening again, including prosecuting those who are found to have participated in this action. And we will find them eventually, Doctor. Vesbius is a very small world in some ways.”
With that, Kirk raised his glass of Vesbian ale, and the Vesbians, for their part, raised their Saurian brandy, which they’d politely tried and found as good as Kirk had hoped. “To Vesbius,” the captain offered. “May there be a bright future for her and her citizens.”
“Hear, hear,” came the calls of the others. Hannah blushed and raised her glass, as did Merling. They drank.
“This beer is extraordinarily good,” said Uhura, who had decided to try the Vesbian ale at Hannah’s request. “And I usually prefer wine.”
“I hoped you would find it so, Lieutenant,” said Hannah, with a beaming and genuine smile.
The dinner was a success. Kirk had a replicator specialist create a new linguine recipe that he named Tholian Web. It included herbs and spices from several of the planets that the Enterprise had visited over the course of its mission and imparted quite an exotic flavor to the ordinary pasta. At times Hannah seemed lost in thought, and when Kirk asked her what she was thinking about, she answered the she was trying to figure out from aroma and from taste what the herbs were that she was experiencing. It seemed that every aspect of biology was of interest to Vesbians, particularly to Hannah.
• • •
The trip out proved to be one of the best of Kirk’s life. He allowed his feelings to bloom for Hannah, and she the same. In the confines of the ship and despite the pressure of the mission, it was as if they were living out a long relationship in fast forward.
While Hannah nominally bunked in Uhura’s quarters, it was the captain’s quarters where she was most often to be found. Her bodyguards had been ordered to make themselves scarce at such times and were usually lurking around the corridors of deck five with scowls on their faces.
“You’re the xenobiologist,” Kirk said to her. “How can we be so compatible when we’re so different?”
They lay together on the deck beside his bunk, having fallen off in the process of making furious love. They were wrapped in one of Kirk’s few keepsakes, a vintage blanket from a Federation vessel.
“Biology is a wonderful field of study,” Hannah answered. “But a rose is a rose is a rose.”
“Fair enough,” Kirk said.
“Why does this blanket say U.S.S. Archer?” Hannah asked. “We are on the Enterprise, after all.”
Kirk fingered the worn fabric. “It was my mother’s. She wrapped me in it once.”
“And thereby hangs a tale?”
“Thereby hangs a tale,” Kirk said. “But what about you?”
“I grew up in the country. My parents were biologists who became farmers.” Hannah sat up, a leg held against her chest.
“And they grew you.”
“In a manner of speaking,” Hannah said. “I studied biology. And that led to anthropology. And economics. And politics.” She shook her hair and it fell around her shoulders and over her breasts in unkempt but beautiful waves. “So here I am.”
“A politician?”
“Yes. And still a farm girl in many ways.”
“But your father is the chancellor of Vesbius, not a farmer.”
“And who do you think got him elected?”
Kirk sat up beside Hannah, put a hand on her chin, and kissed her softly. “You?” he said.
“Little old me. I managed the campaign.”
“The power behind the throne.”
“We don’t have a throne on Vesbius,” said Hannah. “We are a democracy, and I aim to keep it that way.” She took his hand in hers and squeezed it. He could feel the tension within her, and the resolve. “Even through all this.” And then she let out a long breath and released it, and the tension within her seemed to dissolve.
“You think I have it pretty easy, just having a starship to run, don’t you?” Kirk said with a laugh.
She leaned over and brushed her lips against his cheek. “I would never say that, Jim.”
&
nbsp; “But you might think it.”
“If I ever did, I’d keep it to myself,” Hannah replied.
“You are a politician, aren’t you?” Kirk said.
“I’m also a woman,” she said. She took him by the shoulders, pushing him gently toward the blanket. “A woman in love with you.” She was quiet for a moment, then finally spoke with a twinkle in her eye. “It doesn’t take much to see that the problems of two little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.”
“Someday you’ll understand that,” Kirk said, completing the quote. “Casablanca?”
“Casablanca,” she said. “Crazy ending. Sad. Kiss me.”
He kissed her and they came together again. And when it was over and Kirk was sure she lay sleeping on the blanket, he allowed himself to say the words: “I love you, Hannah.” Then he kissed her a final time and lay down beside her.
Hannah did not open her eyes, but she smiled.
“Here’s looking at you, kid,” she whispered.
• • •
Two days later, they arrived at the Janus VI system. They had notified the mining colony that they were on their way. Kirk had not communicated what their purpose was because he did not know the state of affairs between the miners and the Horta. He suspected it was cordial, since the mine was still putting out a record haul of pergium each quarter. But he did not want anyone to do his talking for him. This was going to be difficult without prejudices being formed beforehand.
There was a new mining director, Debra Weisskopf, a big, blustery woman who seemed a hale and hearty sort. She immediately greeted Kirk and his landing party with a strong handshake that almost crushed Kirk’s fingers. She had flaming red hair, and Scotty, whom Kirk brought down with him, was clearly smitten with her.
“What a woman,” Kirk heard Scotty mutter under his breath after the handshake.
Kirk, Hannah, and Merling sat down in chairs in front of the director’s desk. The others in the landing party—Spock, Scotty, McCoy, and the two Vesbian bodyguards, Hox and Ferlein—were crowded into the small office.
Weisskopf did not stay behind her desk but instead plopped herself down on its surface, facing them. Informality seemed to be part of her leadership style, but Kirk noticed a series of carefully drawn charts that decorated her office walls, and all of the trends on the charts were pointing up. “All right, now we can solve the big mystery of why the Enterprise is back at Janus VI?” Laughing, she added, “I know it is not for shore leave.” It was such a contagious laugh that everyone else, except Spock, joined in with her.
“Perhaps some other time,” Kirk replied. “What we want, Director Weisskopf—”
“Call me Debra.”
“What we’re here for, Debra, is the Horta. We want to talk with them, and, quite frankly, we want to recruit some of them to come with us.”
Now Weisskopf’s laugh was even louder and more raucous, but this time the others did not join in with it. She was laughing at them. “You’ve got to be kidding,” she said. “Those Horta are very attached to this world and to their rock. And what do you want them for, may I ask? Are you going to make them into Starfleet cadets?”
“That might not be a bad idea at some point,” noted Spock.
“But that is not our purpose at present,” said Kirk. “We need their help to break apart an asteroid that is on a collision course with the planet Vesbius, whose representatives have accompanied us, Ambassador Hannah Faber and Major Johan Merling.”
“You want them to . . . do what, exactly?”
“To cut the asteroid as a jeweler might cut a gem,” Spock explained. “That is the closest analogy that I can think of at present.”
The mining director nodded her head. She considered what she’d heard for a moment and then her nodding became a more enthusiastic head bobbing. The director was nothing if not enthusiastic. “Yes, yes, that is a very interesting idea, and something the Horta might consider if there were something in it for them.”
“Something in it for them?” said Spock, with a trace of disbelief in his voice. “When I communicated with the Horta All Mother previously, there was no indication that she would require quid pro quo to make an agreement.”
“That’s the All Mother,” said Weisskopf. “The children are another matter entirely. As you know, we established a primitive method of communicating with the Horta. We have a wigwag movement code worked out, a system of colored-stone exchange, and, when all else fails, we leave messages to one another carved into rocks with either phaser or poured acid. We put in a request for a telepath or an empath, but no luck. In any case, I have found the kids to be not only intelligent and hardworking, they also rather enjoy making a profit.”
“A profit?” said Kirk. “That implies they have something to do with their money.”
“It does indeed,” answered Weisskopf.
“And what exactly does a Horta do with credits?” asked McCoy. “I don’t suppose they spend it on gambling and wild women?”
“Well, you might be surprised. You’re closer than you think,” Weisskopf answered. “One thing they do is collect rocks. Geological specimens from throughout the galaxy. Things that can’t be found here in the mine. They’re particularly fond of silicon geodes from Earth.”
“Do they . . . study them?” asked Kirk.
The director laughed. “Heck no. They consider them a delicacy. They eat them, of course.”
“Of course,” Kirk replied.
• • •
The journey into the depths of the mine was a long one on the carrier sled, and Spock used the time to consider the reactions of those about him. For the humans among them, the descent must have seemed eerie. The mine lighting system could only dispel some of the pitch-blackness of the place, and the sameness of the walls and ceiling could make the visitor feel utterly lost. Miners who were intimately familiar with passageways might be able to find their way back; for anyone else it would be a challenge.
The Vulcan found the convoluted mines interesting. While he would never feel at home in such close confines, he did not experience the claustrophobia that the humans seemed to be experiencing. Spock did not entirely understand this emotion-laden sensation. After all, a body could only fit where there was sufficient space in a passageway. If a person estimated where he or she might fit and then got stuck, he or she could either call for help or resign him- or herself to fate. Thrashing about and growing restive would not change things one iota.
Nevertheless, the caves did present a problem. Spock was tall, and the Horta were no more than waist height to him. The captain merely had to stoop a bit to make his way. Spock often found himself bent over double in the Horta-carved caves and shuffling along in a most unpleasant manner. An Earthman might have called it a “duck walk.”
• • •
The miners who were guiding them did not seem to feel the same trepidation about the size of the tunnels. In fact, the miners seemed to be in a better humor the closer they got to the Horta living area.
“Those baby Horta are kind of frisky,” said Director Weisskopf, who accompanied them. “But they’re basically goodhearted creatures. And smarter than the devil. Only—”
“Only what?” asked Kirk
“Do not treat them like animals. They’re not animals; they’re reasoning beings, just like you and I—only they are young.”
“Yes, about two and a half Earth years old at this point,” said Spock.
The director explained: “They have something like a group mind, like bees or ant colonies, although each one is much more individual than a bee. They’ve learned a great deal in the past two years. Each Horta seems to know what the others know. They act pretty much like adolescents.”
“Teenagers?” said Kirk.
“Yes. Emotionally, with a teenage hive mind, too.”
Kirk turned to Spock. “Maybe we can use that, Spock.”
The passageway they had been scuttling along gave way to a large chamber. This was the form
er egg chamber. But now it had been transformed into living quarters, a vast apartment complex, the walls decorated with glittering minerals, quartz, and feldspar. Mica windows glinted between individual stalls, which appeared to be living spaces. And the chamber was no longer filled with eggs. The eggs were gone; now it was filled with hundreds of hatchlings. Perhaps thousands. And each as large as a reclining couch.
“Fascinating,” said Spock.
“My, how they’ve grown,” Kirk quipped.
They were about the same size as the All Mother. But not all of them were the same reddish brown hue. Some shone with a blue or greenish tint, and it took Kirk a moment to realize that this must be decoration of some sort.
“Clothing,” Spock offered.
“Spock ?” asked Kirk.
“The Horta appear to have the same drive to adorn their bodies as do other sentient life forms. Even though they are silicon based and their internal structure does not correspond to any aliens we have encountered before. I wonder what the various rocks and colorations with which they adorn themselves mean. It would be a fascinating study.”
“Agreed, but that will have to wait,” said Kirk. “Let’s try to establish communication.” He turned to the director. “Can you tell them that we are about to attempt to establish a direct line of mental communication between one of them and Mister Spock?”
“I’ll try,” said the director. “I would suggest that you start off with Slider Dan over there.” She pointed toward a Horta who had drawn close to them when they had entered the chamber. “That’s not his real name, of course, just what we call him. I suppose because of the way he moves through the rock. The Horta respect him, too. He’s not their leader exactly—he’s the one that understands humans—so we usually use him as our interpreter. For a Horta he seems to have a pretty good grasp of human nature.”
“I hope he gets along well with Vulcans, too,” said Kirk. “But I suppose that’s the best place to start. How do you know it’s a he, anyway?”