by Greg Cox
Twenty-Nine
Security teams escorted both Colonel Gasts into the transporter room. It dawned on Kirk that nearly a week had passed since a single Gast had first beamed aboard the Enterprise with the other delegates. Much had changed since then, and not always for the better, particularly where the devious Pavakian was concerned.
Weakened to the point of death, both Gasts required assistance just to walk. They remained identical in appearance, but the variation in their personalities was growing ever more extreme. One of the Gasts, the one who had actually committed the murders and sabotaged the ship, fought savagely despite her weakness, thrashing and twisting in a futile attempt to break free from the guards’ grips. Her bloodshot eyes were wild. Saliva sprayed from her lips as she spotted Kirk. Rage contorted her face.
“You!” She tried to lunge at Kirk but was held back by the sturdy guards. “You ruined everything! You’re as bad as those Oyolu scum! I should have killed you all, blown this entire ship to pieces . . . !”
By contrast, the other Gast, the one who provided her double’s alibi during the killings, appeared resigned and despondent. She stared bleakly at the floor, not even lifting her head to acknowledge her counterpart’s crazed ranting. She let the guards herd her toward the transporter platform.
“It’s no use,” she murmured. “It’s over, finished . . .”
Hours had passed since the warhead had been destroyed and it seemed that the crisis was indeed over. Repair crews, under Mister Scott’s diligent supervision, had restored the Enterprise’s propulsion system and were in the process of undoing Gast’s insidious handiwork. Thankfully, no crew members had been killed by her booby traps, although a number of casualties were now recovering in sickbay, along with Lenore, who was recuperating from her ordeal in space. According to McCoy, she was bound to make a full recovery, given a little time and rest.
It was unclear, however, whether the same could be said of the two Colonel Gasts.
“What do you think, Bones?” Kirk asked McCoy, who was on hand to provide whatever medical assistance might be required. “Is there still time to reintegrate them?”
“I wish I knew, Jim.” McCoy regarded the twin Gasts with concern. “They’ve been separated for at least three days. That’s much longer than you were, and you remember how hard that was on your system.”
I could hardly forget, Kirk thought. Two sets of unpleasant memories clashed together in his mind, just as his warring selves had fought physically twenty years ago. By the end, he—they—had been so weak they could hardly stand.
“No! Let me go!” the rabid Gast shrieked as the guards dragged her onto the platform beside her more quiescent double. Fury gave way to sheer animal panic as her eyes glanced about frantically, searching for a way to escape. She hissed and kicked and shed. Tufts of dry fur went flying from her exposed hands and face. “You can’t do this to me! I want to live!”
Kirk remembered that fear as well: a blind, instinctive, irrational terror at the prospect of rejoining with your opposite half. That fear had killed a test animal—a horned canine native to Alfa 177—when they had attempted to reintegrate it. That fear had almost undone Kirk as well. Only his civilized half, his ability to reason and compromise, had saved him.
“Let me go, you Terran bastards! I won’t let you do this to me. I’ll kill you first!”
Chekov, supervising the operation, kept a close watch on the crazed Pavakian. He appeared to be recovering as well, although Kirk noticed that he was still favoring his left arm. Kirk made a mental note to submit commendations for Chekov and Banks. They had both come through with flying colors, validating Kirk’s faith in Chekov and his security staff.
Well done, Pavel.
“Doctor,” Chekov addressed McCoy. “Your assistance, please, in securing the prisoner’s cooperation?”
“All right,” McCoy said, cautiously approaching the feral Gast. “Just keep a tight grip on her. She looks like she might bite.”
“Bite? I’ll tear your throat out, you incompetent quack! I’ll—”
A judicious application of a hypospray tranquilized the more murderous double. Her eyes glazed over, her thrashing limbs went limp, and her head drooped onto her chest. She stood numbly atop a transporter pad, less than a meter from the other Gast. Drool trickled from the corner of her mouth. A low moan replaced her bloodthirsty ranting.
McCoy backed away and stepped off the platform.
“Given her debilitated state, I administered only a minimal dose,” he explained. “Let’s get on with this before it wears off.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Kirk said. “Everybody off the platform except the prisoners.”
The guards warily released both Gasts, while Chekov and Banks stood by with phasers ready. For a moment, Kirk feared that the dying Pavakians might collapse onto the platform without anyone holding them up, but they managed to totter unsteadily upon their respective pads. It might have been easier if they’d held each other up, but that same instinctive aversion to rejoining still kept them apart. They turned away from each other, unable to even look at their other halves.
Why is it, Kirk thought, that we so often fear facing ourselves?
That was a question to ponder another day. What mattered now was trying to restore Gast if it wasn’t already too late. Kirk nodded at Spock, who stood ready in the control booth.
“Energize.”
Coruscating columns of shimmering light dissolved both Gasts into energy. Spock carefully monitored the displays on his control panel, giving them his full attention. It was Spock, Kirk recalled, who had put Kirk back together decades ago. Kirk hoped that his science officer could pull off the same feat again. Gast, for all her crimes, deserved a fair trial back on Pavak.
“Merging patterns now,” Scott reported.
Twin columns moved together, converging over a vacant pad. The transporter whined as a solitary figure coalesced atop the pad, growing more substantial by the second. The light faded and a single Demme Gast appeared on the platform.
We did it, Kirk thought. It worked.
But the materialized figure collapsed. McCoy rushed to examine the motionless form. He checked her pulse and breathing, then hastily administered a powerful stimulant. When that failed to rouse her, he labored for several minutes to resuscitate her before reluctantly giving up the fight. He examined her with a scanner to confirm the truth.
“She’s dead, Jim.” He shook his head sadly. “It was too late, I guess. They’d been separated too long.”
“Maybe,” Kirk said thoughtfully. “Or perhaps she simply couldn’t live with her failure and saw no point in going on.” He had needed to overcome his own fears to rejoin successfully with his other half. He doubted that either Gast had been in any state to muster that kind of desire to be whole once more. “Perhaps she just could not let go of her pain . . . and hate.”
“Hardly the most scientific diagnosis, Captain,” Spock said, emerging from the control booth, “but perhaps not inaccurate.” He gazed down at the lifeless remains. “In the end, she couldn’t escape herself . . . or what she had become.”
“Few of us can,” Kirk said. “But sometimes it’s worth the effort.”
Lenore had proved that.
• • •
“The shuttle is waiting to take you all back to Oyolo,” Kirk said. “I think I can promise you a smoother ride this time.”
Doctor Tamris and Lenore had gathered on the bridge to make their farewells before returning to their relief work on Oyolo. Ifusi and Riley were also present to see them off, along with Kirk’s senior officers, excepting Mister Scott, who was busy conducting a top-to-bottom inspection of all the Enterprise’s systems, just in case. That the late Colonel Gast had managed to bollix his precious hardware in his absence had not sat well with Scott; Kirk knew the engineer was going to leave no stone unturned until he was certain beyond
all doubt that the Enterprise was absolutely shipshape once more.
“Thank you, Captain,” Tamris said. “We’re all very grateful for your hospitality, not to mention your daring intervention earlier, but it’s time we get back to our work. We’re still badly needed planetside.”
Kirk was impressed by her bravery and dedication, as well as her remarkable ability to forgive the very people who had taken her and her people captive. No one could have blamed them if they had chosen to never set foot on Oyolo again, let alone head back to the very same refugee camp.
“I have to ask,” he said. “Are you quite sure it’s safe to return? My strike force didn’t exactly make many friends among the Oyolu during the rescue mission. There might still be some hard feelings.”
“I appreciate your concern, Captain,” she replied. “But we’ve received assurances from the Oyolu authorities that they can guarantee our security, and now that A’Barra’s true killer has met her end, passions are said to have cooled significantly. I’ve been in touch with Jorgaht, who has emerged from the depths, and he assures me that the coast is clear.” She shrugged philosophically. “As much as it ever is in this uncertain universe.”
“Fair enough,” Kirk said, glad to know that the valiant Horta had not been forced to hide deep beneath the planet’s crust for long. “Your courage, as well as your willingness to overlook what occurred before, bodes well for the future . . . and perhaps for peace in general.”
“We shall see,” Ifusi said skeptically. He approached Lenore, who appeared none the worse for her harrowing close call in space. “In any event, I must thank you again for your heroism in saving my world. All of Oyolo is indebted to you. Millions still live, despite the Pavakians’ treachery.”
Riley did not let that last remark pass without comment. “The Pavakian government has denounced the assassinations and the attempted attack on Oyolo in the strongest possible terms. Colonel Gast and her confederates represented a rogue element that did not have the backing of the legitimate authorities. The new envoy, Brigadier-General Pogg, is being dispatched to continue the peace talks, and I’m assured that Major Takk and his fellow co-conspirators will stand trial for their crimes. Furthermore, a thorough investigation into the full extent of the plot is already under way. Pavak has promised to root out every last trace of this conspiracy . . . in the interests of peace.”
Ifusi snorted. He crossed his arms across his chest. “After all that’s occurred, I have little faith in Pavakian promises. Nor am I convinced that Gast and her fellow villains were truly acting alone.”
“But if you let their actions poison the peace process,” Lenore observed, “they will have succeeded after all, and both worlds will suffer for it.” She placed her hand on Ifusi’s arm. “Perhaps you can thank me—and honor A’Barra’s memory—by bringing an open mind to the peace talks and ensuring that A’Barra did not die in vain. Too many lives have been lost. Trust me when I say that it’s time to move on . . . and leave the sins of the past behind.”
Ifusi mulled over her words. “There may be some wisdom to what you say. I will think on it.”
That’s a promising start, Kirk thought. More wisdom from The Tempest came to mind. “ ‘Yet with my nobler reason ’gainst my fury do I take part,’ ” he recited. “ ‘The rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance.’ ”
“A laudable sentiment,” Riley agreed. “One might almost think Shakespeare was an Irishman.” He graced Lenore with a forgiving smile. “Time to let bygones be bygones.”
“I couldn’t agree more, Ambassador,” Kirk said.
He was proud of Riley. The onetime lieutenant had matured into a man of impressive character and ability. Pogg, whom both Spock and Scotty spoke highly of, was expected shortly, and Kirk had every confidence that Riley would eventually help the two parties lay a solid groundwork for peace.
“Thank you, Ambassador,” Lenore said, visibly moved by Riley’s gesture. “You can’t know how much that means to me.” She moved along the bridge, making her farewells. “And thank you, too, Mister Spock, for saving me when all seemed lost.”
Spock accepted her gratitude with his customary dignity. “I am pleased that Mister Scott and I were able to remedy the situation. And, if I may say so, your personal evolution is quite commendable and a testament to life’s endless capacity for growth and progress. It would have been a waste for such a worthwhile process not to continue.”
“Why, Mister Spock, that was practically poetic.” She scrutinized his stoic features. “You’re different than you were when we first met, twenty years ago. Warmer, I think, and less forbidding. Perhaps even a trifle more human.”
Spock arched an eyebrow.
“I will attempt to take that remark in the spirit in which it was intended.” He raised his hand in a traditional Vulcan salute. “Live long and prosper, Lenore Karidian . . . or would you prefer Lyla Kassidy?”
“Karidian,” she said. “I’m tired of hiding from my past. It’s time to accept myself for who I am, the good and the bad.”
Kirk nodded. “To thine own self be true.”
“Precisely.” She sighed and glanced at the entrances to the nearby turbolifts. “Now I suppose I should get a move on. I don’t wish to keep Doctor Tamris and the others waiting.”
“Take as much time as you need,” Tamris said. “We won’t leave without you.” She stepped into the starboard turbolift. “Good-bye, Captain, officers, ambassadors. And, once more, all our thanks.”
The door whisked shut and the lift carried her away. Kirk admired the Andorian’s consideration and tact. He suspected that she had departed in order to give Kirk and Lenore a chance to make their good-byes in private.
“Shall I escort you to the shuttlebay, Miss Karidian?” he volunteered.
“Yes, please,” she answered warmly. “I’d like that.”
Leaving Spock in command of the bridge, they took the port turbolift. The door closed behind them and they found themselves alone. Kirk let the lift sit for the moment, in no hurry to provide it with a destination.
“So you intend to continue your relief efforts?” he asked. “On Oyolo and elsewhere?”
“Yes, but not out of guilt anymore, but simply to make a difference. It’s hard work sometimes, and dangerous, but it can be enormously satisfying and good for the soul, too.” She gazed at him knowingly. “Not unlike being a starship captain, I imagine.”
“You imagine right,” he said, “although even a captain gets some time off occasionally.”
“Is that so?” A sly smile came over her lips, reminding Kirk of the alluring young woman he had first met at that cocktail party on Planet Q. “You know, despite all the bombings and battles, there remain a few beautifully unspoiled spots on Oyolo, including, so I’m told, some tropical islands and beaches in the southern hemisphere that were largely untouched by the war. They’re supposed to be quite lovely . . . and private.”
“An intriguing combination,” he replied. “Well, Spock tells me that the disarmament efforts on Pavak are likely to take another week or so, and Ambassador Riley still has to bring both sides back to the bargaining table, so the Enterprise is going to stick around in the buffer zone for a while, if only for everyone’s peace of mind.” He eased closer to her, grinning. “I may have some time on my hands. Perhaps we could explore some of those islands . . . together?”
There could be nothing permanent between them, he knew. They both had their own voyages and duties carrying them in different directions. But perhaps they could finally put the past behind them and enjoy the present while they could.
“I might be persuaded,” she said coyly. “What’s that thing Spock says again?”
Kirk knew what she meant. “There are always possibilities.”
And so there were.
“Let us not burden our remembrances with a heaviness that’s gone.”
—The Tempest, Ac
t V
Acknowledgments
At the end of the classic Original Series episode “The Conscience of the King,” McCoy assures Kirk that Lenore Karidian will get the best psychological care the Federation can provide. Rewatching the episode a year or so ago, I found myself wondering whatever happened to her . . . and what might happen if she and Kirk crossed paths again. That was the very specific genesis of this book, and I’m very grateful to all the people who helped me turn that idle thought into the novel you’re reading now.
My editors, Ed Schlesinger and Margaret Clark, offered support and advice at every stage of the project, and they waited patiently for the manuscript while I wrestled with snowstorms, deadlines, and a certain giant radioactive lizard. And my agent, Russ Galen, once again took care of the business end of things, allowing me to concentrate on complicating Kirk’s life. Thanks also to my friend and fellow Star Trek author, Tony Daniel, who helpfully coined the term “zetaproprion” when I needed a name for an experimental drug that somehow didn’t get named in “Whom Gods Destroy.” And to author Christopher Bennett, who let me pick his brain regarding the movie era.
While writing this book, I relied heavily on Memory Alpha, Memory Beta, and my extensive library of Star Trek reference books and magazines, but I want to give a special shout-out to Mister Scott’s Guide to the Enterprise, which was more or less my bible when it came to describing the Enterprise-A and the movie era in general. Also due thanks are writer Barry Trivers, who wrote the powerful episode that inspired this book, and actress Barbara Anderson, who first brought Lenore Karidian to life.
On a personal front, many thanks to my siblings in the Pacific Northwest for taking care of our aging parents while I pounded away on a keyboard thousands of miles away. I know just how much time and care you devote to Mom and Dad. I’m sorry I can’t help out in person.
And thanks, as always, to Karen Palinko and Lyla and Sophie for giving me a reason to step away from the computer once in a while.