Kirk turned from his right to his left. “Uhura, hail them.”
“Aye, sir,” she answered, and then a moment later, “They’re responding.”
“On-screen,” Kirk said, turning forward again.
The 814 command center reappeared on the forward viewscreen, though this time both Laspas and Satrav were absent, and N’Mi stood alone before the banks of operations stations. “Hold your fire, Enterprise. We request a truce.”
“A truce,” Kirk immediately agreed. “What’s happened over there?”
“There was an attempted mutiny against Commander Laspas. It has been put down, but the commander was injured in the ensuing struggle,” N’Mi told them.
“Seriously?” Kirk asked with genuine concern.
“I cannot say,” the chief answered, also looking highly fretful. “As I believe you’re aware, our physician transferred off this vessel shortly after arriving at Wezonvu.”
Kirk pivoted in his chair. “Bones . . .”
“On my way,” McCoy said over his shoulder, already stepping into the open turbolift car, headed for the transporter room.
Kirk turned back to N’Mi. “Doctor McCoy will be there shortly. What about Second Commander Satrav?”
“He has been placed under arrest,” N’Mi said, betraying the slightest hint of a grin on her serious face. “It would seem that he and several others on our crew had led the conspiracy to steal photon torpedoes from your ship while at Wezonvu, and falsified the Defense Corps orders to strike Nalaing. I assume you will want him transferred to your custody to face charges?”
“That’s not something we need to worry about just now,” Kirk said. Another extradition battle was about the last thing he was looking forward to at the moment. “Am I to take it you are in command of the 814 now, Chief?”
“No,” N’Mi said, as if bewildered by such an improbable assumption. “The vessel is still Commander Laspas’s. No non-Goeg has ever commanded a Defense Corps starvessel.”
“Yet,” Spock said, stepping down into the command well and addressing the Liruq woman on the screen.
N’Mi answered Spock with a nod and just the slightest hint of a smile. “Yet.”
Thirteen
The civilian spacedock and repair facility in orbit of Nalaing was much smaller and less technologically advanced than the one at Wezonvu. Designed to service small freighters and other commercial space vessels, it consisted of eight wharf-like platforms branching off at right angles from the main perpendicular habitat and support module. It was barely big enough to accommodate a Goeg Class III starvessel, and it was dwarfed by the Enterprise.
The Nalaingers insisted the Starfleet ship make port there, and further insisted on doing all they could to assist the crew that had saved their world. Being in no position to turn down the offer, Kirk had accepted. It took some creative navigation, but they were able to position the ship in such a way that the overtaxed starboard pylon was parallel to the longest platform, upside-down and at an angle relative to the station’s orientation. Of course, it made no difference to anyone aboard the Enterprise, who enjoyed the same up and down provided by the ship’s artificial gravity that they always did. But looking out at his ship from one of the facility’s observation decks, Captain Kirk was put in mind of a man being held by his ankle, dangling over the planet below.
Kirk chuckled at himself and shook his head as he turned away from the wide transparent port and toward the set of doors he heard sliding open on the opposite end of the room. Two individuals entered, the first one a Nalainger he had met previously, named Altoing. The short, compactly built humanoid had the blue complexion of an Andorian, without the antennae, and a tuft of wiry violet hair sprouting up from the top of his head. He wore the brightly colored vestments of his office, which the universal translator had given as undersecretary of interplanetary affairs, though the captain had quickly ascertained in their prior conversations that he was no mere midlevel bureaucrat. The person accompanying the undersecretary was a tall insectoid, and though he had never seen a living one before now, Kirk recognized this alien as an Urpire.
“Salutations, Captain James T. Kirk,” Altoing said in his surprisingly sonorous voice. “I would like to introduce you to Kikkikizz, Emissary of the Urpire Curia.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, James T. Kirk,” Kikkikizz said, swaying back and forth in what Kirk assumed was their analog to a nod or a hand wave. “On behalf of the Curia, I wish to express our appreciation for your efforts to save the lives of our fellows.”
“Thank you, Emissary,” Kirk said. “I only wish those efforts had been more successful.”
“As do we all. But we cannot change what has come before, only what is yet to come,” the emissary said. “We also thank you for helping uncover the truth of what happened to Civil Transport 043.”
“I assume, by your presence here, Emissary, that Ghalif’s claims about negotiations between the Taarpi and the Urpire Curia were correct?” Kirk asked, and found himself wondering what had ultimately become of the Abesian woman.
“Yes. ‘Taarpi’ is a name that’s been adopted by a vast number of people across the Goeg Domain,” Kikkikizz explained. “It is a code word for those who oppose the imperialist rule of the Goeg.”
“Most express that opposition in words only, or through nonviolent acts of defiance,” Altoing added. “There is a minority who use violence and bloodshed. It’s that minority who are the most visible, though, and who give the Domain justification for going after any and all political dissidents.”
“Ghalif and her group of Taarpi approached the Curia some time ago to request our help,” Kikkikizz said. “The Urpires are isolationists, and we are dispassionate about the outside universe. We’ve watched the growing conflict within the Domain for many years, but we had resolved not to become involved. It was Ghalif who presented us with the argument that our neutrality was tacit approval of Goega’s continued oppression, that the only way to end the continuing cycle of attacks and reprisals—which has been so detrimental to all our worlds—was to end our silence.”
“Your government is not coming out in support of the Taarpi?” Kirk asked.
“We support peace and stability,” the Urpire said.
“The Domain will never share that goal,” Altoing opined. “Nalaing has been under constant harassment from the Goeg for decades, because we refuse to take the same draconian measures they do against suspected Taarpi members. It’s only because we are a vital center for commerce that they haven’t threatened to bombard the planet before now.”
“But now something’s changed,” Kirk observed.
A scratchy, sigh-like noise emitted from the Urpire’s mouth. “I fear that change is their discovery of the Curia’s willingness to become involved. In trying to bring peace, we’ve instead instigated the murder of a hundred innocents on transport 043, and nearly brought about the destruction of this planet.” Despite how physiologically different the Urpire was, and his near lack of facial expression, it was exceedingly clear how saddened he was, and how guilty he felt.
Altoing added, “If they’re truly willing to go to such lengths, then it will take far more than words from the Curia to sway them. If only the Federation weren’t so distant . . .”
Altoing trailed off, but Kirk could see where he was going with his thought: If only the Federation weren’t so distant, they could bring their huge starships and powerful weapons to bear against their oppressors.
“Imposing a change like the one you’re hoping for from the outside is rarely the best option,” Kirk opined. “Lasting change always comes from within. You shouldn’t give up so easily. I see parallels between the Goeg Domain and other empires throughout galactic history, which have eventually been forced to bend to the will of their peoples. Change can be slow, but I believe it will eventually come.”
“I wish I could believe you, Kirk,” Altoing said, scowling. “But with respect, you don’t know the Goeg. They are arrogant, stubborn, utterly c
onvinced of their place above all other races. I don’t see them ever willingly loosening their grip on the rest of us.”
“I’ve noticed those tendencies, too,” Kirk admitted. “But, just like the Taarpi, the Goeg are not a homogeneous race, but a collection of individuals. I have to believe that not all of them are as intransigent as you think they are.” Kirk turned to Kikkikizz, adding, “Emissary, a wise woman from my planet once said, ‘Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.’ ”
“An interesting observation,” Kikkikizz said, sounding thoughtful. “Though I would counter that much would depend on the character of those citizens, and their ability to bring increasing numbers into their group.”
“A fair point,” Kirk said, nodding. “So the key is to cultivate such individuals.”
“Are you speaking of someone in particular?” the Emissary asked.
Kirk risked a small smile. “In fact, I am.”
* * *
Laspas threw an arm over his face as the door to his sleeping quarters opened, guarding his eyes from the harsh light being cast into the gloomy interior. “For Erhokor’s love, go away, McCoy!” he snarled.
“It’s not McCoy,” Kirk said as he stepped into the commander’s private sanctum. The door closed behind him, and he kept his back pressed against it, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the depressing darkness.
Another annoyed growl rumbled from Laspas. “What do you want?” he asked, rolling away from Kirk.
“Bones has been rough on you, has he?” Kirk asked.
Laspas sighed, and turned onto his back again, but kept his eyes on the overhead rather than facing his visitor. “He means well,” he allowed grudgingly, “but he has shown little of the deference due to the commander of a starvessel.”
Kirk chuckled softly and said, “Don’t take it personally; he’s the exact same way with me.” As his eyes adjusted, Kirk noticed the disarray in the room. Clothing had been dropped carelessly about the deck, a half-eaten tray of food sat on the bedside table. No self-respecting Starfleet officer would allow his quarters to fall into such a state, and Kirk was sure the same held for a Defense Corps commander. Kirk took a step closer to the bed and asked, “How are you feeling?”
“I’m healing,” Laspas said, declining to elaborate further.
Kirk knew what it felt like to be incapacitated and rendered unable to carry out his duties. He couldn’t imagine, though, having those injuries come at the hand of a long-trusted fellow officer. “I wanted to tell you that it took courage for you to do what you did. Not only to act on your own convictions and defy your orders, but to trust me enough to send that covert message.”
“So, I have the admiration of the man I invited to attack my ship. At last, I can sleep easy again,” Laspas said, his upper lip curled in a self-effacing sneer. “I suppose I should also acknowledge your restraint in firing only once at my vessel,” he added after a brief hesitation, finally turning his head Kirk’s way.
“You’re welcome.” Kirk pulled a low stool to the side of the bed and sat, bringing himself closer to eye level with Laspas. “What happens to Satrav now?” he asked.
Laspas turned away again and closed his eyes. “The question you should be asking is, what happens to me, once word of what happened here gets back to Goega?” he said. “I’m the one who defied orders, after all. Worse, I was aided by N’Mi in defying those orders.”
“Worse, because she’s not Goeg?” Kirk asked.
Laspas nodded. “The best to be hoped for is that, once I return home and am brought before a Corps tribunal, I will be stripped of my rank and given a nice cool stockade cell.”
“And what of Chief N’Mi, and the other crew members who backed you?” Kirk asked.
Laspas shook his head wordlessly, and then turned to look at Kirk again. “Just between you and me, James? I hope that, once I’ve recovered and resumed full command, she deserts.”
“What? You hope she deserts?” Kirk asked.
“I hope she has enough sense to save her own hide,” Laspas elaborated. “She’s a brilliant and dedicated engineer, and she does not deserve to be executed for the mistake of coming to my defense.”
Kirk was appalled to hear that the Liruq woman could face the death penalty for putting down a mutiny. “Do you really think that was a mistake?” he asked Laspas. “You don’t think she should have supported you?”
Laspas shook his head in self-pity. “What I think hardly matters.”
“Laspas,” Kirk said, demanding the other man’s attention. “Do you believe it was a mistake to refuse orders to commit genocide?”
“No,” he answered. “The only mistake I made was being so credulous about how we got your warheads, and to believe you had so little integrity. Refusing to destroy an entire planet? No, I have no regrets about that.”
“If you go back and fall on your sword, Laspas, what’s to keep your superiors from attempting the same thing again?” Kirk asked. “If you allow yourself to be removed from command of this ship, and someone like Satrav is put in charge . . .”
“I’m hardly in a position to allow or disallow anything,” Laspas said, shaking his head.
Kirk stood up from his stool, moved back to the door, and pressed the interior illumination control. Laspas roared in pain as the light struck his eyes, and Kirk raised his voice above the other man’s to be heard. “You are still a decorated commander in the Domain Defense Corps,” Kirk reminded Laspas as he peered through his slitted eyelids. “You still have your ship, and you still hold a position of power and respect, if you’re willing to use it.”
“Use it how? Against the Corps?” Laspas’s eyes adjusted to the light, and when he could see Kirk’s face again, realization hit him. “You’re suggesting I become part of the Taarpi,” he said.
“I’m suggesting you take a stand for your principles,” Kirk told him. “I know that it’s easy for me, an outsider, to stand here and tell you what to do. You’ve dedicated your life to the Domain and the Corps, just as I have to the Federation and Starfleet. I’ve never been put in the kind of position you’re in now, and I can’t honestly say what I would do if I were.” Though Kirk had butted heads with the admiralty and various Federation officials in the past, he’d never been in a situation where he believed his superiors had evil intentions and needed to be actively opposed. The captain shuddered to think anything that even came close to the Domain scenario would be possible in the Federation. But Kirk wasn’t naïve enough to believe the people who held power in the Federation were infallible.
“You just told me you had no regrets about defying your superiors and averting an atrocity,” Kirk continued. “What you need to ask yourself now is, whatever you decide to do next, what kind of regrets will you have?”
Laspas said nothing, and turned away once more. Realizing that there was nothing more he could add, Kirk turned to go. As he did, he noticed one of Laspas’s father’s books lying open, spine up, on the deck, as if it had been thrown across the cabin. Kirk picked it up and carefully unfolded the creased interior pages. “And if that fails,” he said as he closed the book and placed it on the bedside table, “ask yourself what Kawhye would do.”
* * *
Pavel Chekov watched dispassionately as the gold-colored ball rolled across the table, bounced off one of the stubby lighted posts positioned in a seemingly random pattern on the low-friction surface, and then drop through a hole into a pocket below. “That’s two hundred credits you owe me,” Sulu said with a wide, gloating smile.
“How did you get so good at this game so fast?” Chekov asked. Neither of them had even heard of dom-jot prior to coming aboard the Nalaing station, and now Sulu was hustling him as if he’d been playing the game for his entire life.
“I used to play a lot of billiards as a kid,” Sulu said. “I think it’s what first got me interested in physics.”
“I’ve played billiards, too,” Cheko
v said. “But this really isn’t all that close.” While the object of both games was to use a cue stick to sink the balls placed on the table, dom-jot also involved negotiating the obstacles arranged around the irregularly shaped table and activating the lights in random patterns controlled by the table’s circuitry. As far as Chekov was concerned, it was all too complex for what should have been a simple diversionary pastime.
Sulu shrugged and started pulling the balls out from the channel underneath and placing them back on the tabletop. “Close enough so if you understand all the differences, you can make adjustments. Double or nothing again?”
“I think I’ll just head back to the ship,” Chekov said as he laid his cue on the table.
“Come on,” Sulu cajoled. “I’ll spot you two points this time.”
Chekov shook his head. “I’ll see you on the bridge next shift.” The ensign hadn’t been comfortable leaving the ship and coming aboard the station. After the security breach, he had been in a heightened state of concern—or paranoia, according to Sulu. It had taken several minutes of relentless cajoling from him before Chekov agreed to a short visit. All during their dinner and the drinks during their dom-jot match, his mind had been fixed on what was going on back on the ship, and whether Lieutenant Arex was keeping close enough tabs on any potential security violations.
Outside the recreation hall, Chekov stepped onto a moving walkway, which ran the full length of the station and would take him back to the dock where the Enterprise was now moored. The broad concourse he was carried along was lined on both sides by restaurants and shops, all doing a steady business, catering to a variety of unfamiliar aliens.
And one familiar one. Several meters ahead, walking down the center of the second walkway, which ran in the opposite direction across the station, Chekov spotted one of the big Rokean guards who had ejected him from the 814 command center. The ensign froze in place, even as he told himself that there was no reason to be worried—he wasn’t coming for him.
Except he was. The other walkway riders gave the uniformed soldier a wide berth as he made a beeline for the Starfleet officer. Chekov tensed as the Rokean quickly closed the distance between them and then stepped over the low divide between the two conveyors without losing balance or showing any other sign of unsteadiness. “Mister Sulu,” he said as they now stood face-to-face.
Star Trek: The Original Series: The Shocks of Adversity Page 22