The captain recalled the last time Gary had done that. And as he did, the memory seemed to stick in his brain. Suddenly, he couldn’t think about anything else—including the two people sitting opposite from him, waiting for him to go on with his confession.
There had to be a reason the memory wouldn’t let him go, Kirk told himself—and he had a feeling he knew what it was. After all, he had believed once before that he was the cause of his friend’s death.
It had begun on a planet called Dimorus ...
Chapter Five
THE NAVIGATOR LAY pale and motionless on his biobed, the dark circles under his eyes making the sockets look disturbingly hollow. If not for the persistent throbbing of the life-signs monitor above the bed, the captain would have been convinced that Gary Mitchell was a goner.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dr. Piper and Nurse Hinch enter the pastel-pink enclosure. Kirk acknowledged their presence with a glance.
“How’s our patient?” asked the chief medical officer.
The captain managed a smile, albeit a weak one. “I thought you were going to tell me, Doctor.”
Piper studied Gary’s monitor for a moment, then shrugged. “Well enough not to need sedation, I’d say.”
He asked his nurse for a hypospray full of [53] something. Hinch, a squarish woman with a perpetual scowl, went over to a drawer and followed the doctor’s instructions, then delivered the hypo.
“Thank you,” said Piper and held the device to his patient’s neck. He glanced at Kirk. “Just try not to get him too excited, all right? I’d hate to have to put him under again.”
“I promise,” said the captain.
He heard a low hiss as the doctor emptied the contents of his hypo into Gary’s system. A moment later, his friend’s eyes fluttered open. Gary looked around, orienting himself. Then he realized that Kirk was standing there and he grinned.
“Miss me?” he asked over the hum of the engines.
“Did you go somewhere?” the captain quipped back.
“The way I feel,” said the navigator, “it must have been all the way to hell and back. I haven’t been this fatigued since I spent a weekend with the Renault triplets.”
“I remember the Renault triplets,” Kirk returned. “And I doubt even they could have laid you out this way.”
His friend smiled and heaved a sigh. “I guess you don’t remember them the way I remember them.”
The captain turned to his chief medical officer. “Is the poison going to have any lasting effects, Doctor?”
“Yeah,” Gary asked Piper with feigned seriousness, “am I going to get varicose veins or something?”
Kirk had to smile. His friend’s sense of humor was returning. Clearly, that was a good sign.
[54] The doctor eyed his patient soberly, then shook his head. “No, Captain, no lasting effects as far as I can tell. It’ll take a couple of days, but Mr. Mitchell should be fine. Of course, if he had received the antidote just a few minutes later ...”
“It would’ve all been over for me,” Gary interjected, completing the older man’s thought. “Go ahead and say it, Doc. That way, it’ll make a better story when I tell it in the rec lounge.”
Piper frowned. “All right, Commander. If we hadn’t gotten the antidote to you as quickly as we did, your exposure to the alien poison would have likely proved fatal. Satisfied?”
Gary leaned back in his bed. “It would’ve been better if I’d saved a beautiful woman like Nurse Hinch here instead of some wet-nosed captain ... but I think I can make it work.”
Hinch scowled at the mention of her name. But then, not everyone was a fan of the navigator’s womanizing remarks.
The doctor turned to Kirk. “You’ve got two minutes, Captain. Then your friend here needs to get some rest.”
“You’re the boss,” Kirk assured Piper.
As the doctor and Nurse Hinch left the enclosure to see to some of their other duties, the captain regarded Gary, “You know,” he said, “you gave us quite a scare there for a moment.”
The navigator grunted. “I gave you a scare? How do you think I felt when I saw that rat-faced Dimoran setting his sights on you? You know how embarrassing it can be to come home without your commanding officer?”
[55] The captain did know, of course. Several years earlier, he had come home without his commanding officer on the Farragut—a memory that still twisted in his gut from time to time. But in his weakened state, Gary seemed to have forgotten about that.
“Anyway,” said Kirk, “I’m glad you’re going to be okay. Is there anything I can get you while you’re convalescing? Something to read, maybe?”
His friend chuckled. “You mean that long-haired stuff you inflicted on us back at the Academy? Not on your life, old buddy. I’d rather mix it up with the Dimorans again.”
The captain shrugged. “Have it your way.”
Gary looked up at him, waxing serious for a moment. “Actually,” he told Kirk, “there is one thing you can get me.”
“And what’s that?”
The commander’s sober expression gave way to a grin. “They say a bottle of Saurian brandy can do wonders in poison cases.”
“Right,” said the captain. “I’ll smuggle some Saurian brandy into sickbay—and afterwards, you can visit me at the penal colony on Tantalus Five. I’ll tell you what, Mitch ... you get yourself a clean bill of health from Dr. Piper. Then we’ll talk about that bottle of Saurian brandy.”
Gary shrugged. “Fair enough.”
“I guess I should go,” Kirk told him. “The doctor says you need your rest, and he ought to know.”
“Go on,” said the commander. “Get out of here.”
The captain started to leave. But he hadn’t gotten halfway to the exit before Gary called his name and made him turn around.
[56] “What now?” Kirk wondered, feigning impatience.
“For the sake of those busybodies in the rec lounge,” said the navigator, “how about we say it was three darts?”
“It’ll make for a better story?” the captain asked.
“Infinitely better.”
“In that case,” said Kirk, “why not?”
“Thanks,” said Gary. “You’re a pal.”
Piper stuck his head into the room. “Time’s up, Captain. You’ll have to come back later.”
“I hear you, Doctor,” Kirk replied.
With a last comradely glance at his friend, he left and returned to the bridge.
As Piper rejoined his nurse in the softly lit, pink corridor that connected Mitchell’s patient care unit with all the others, he saw that Hinch was frowning even more deeply than usual. “Something troubling you?” he asked.
“I don’t like that man,” the nurse told him.
“No?” said the doctor, as he began to make his way down the corridor.
“Not at all,” Hinch insisted, as she fell in line alongside him.
“Because he doesn’t treat you with respect?” Piper asked.
“Because he doesn’t treat anyone with respect. Not even the captain,” the nurse pointed out. “Did you see the way Mitchell spoke to him? As if Captain Kirk were his lackey, not the other way around.”
The doctor grunted. “I wouldn’t exactly call the commander a lackey.”
[57] “You know what I mean,” Hinch said. “He shouldn’t be speaking that way to his commanding officer. I mean, can you imagine if anyone else spoke to Captain Kirk that way? He’d find himself charged with insubordination faster than you can say ‘court martial.’ ”
“You know,” Piper reminded her, “the captain and Mitchell are old friends. They served at the Academy together.”
The nurse glanced sharply at him. “And you think that gives the commander the right to mock him? In public, especially?”
The physician shrugged. “I don’t particularly approve of it, no. But it’s not my place to judge. It’s the captain’s—and if it doesn’t bother him, I don’t suppose it bothers me, either.”
Hinch harrumphed. “Well,” she said, “it bothers me. And from what I understand, it bothered Captain Augenthaler as well.”
Piper looked at her. “Augenthaler? On the Constitution?”
“That’s right. I have a friend who works in the science section who knew Commander Mitchell when he was posted there. She told me the commander didn’t treat Captain Augenthaler any more respectfully than he treats Captain Kirk.”
“Is that so?” the doctor asked.
“It’s so, all right—and Mitchell and Augenthaler were most definitely not Academy buddies. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Commander Mitchell wound up on the Enterprise because no one else would take him.”
Piper stopped in front of the doors to another [58] patient care unit and frowned. “As I understand it, the captain and the commander came over from the Constitution together. You don’t think Augenthaler rejected both of them, do you?” he asked half-seriously.
The nurse pondered the idea for a moment as if it were a real possibility. Then she shook her head. “No. I think it’s what I said before. Captain Kirk brought Mitchell over because no one else would have him.”
The doctor sighed. Hinch’s mother must have been bitten by a bulldog, he decided. Once the woman had embarked on a train of thought, she wouldn’t allow herself to be deterred for anything.
“In that case,” Piper told her with just a hint of sarcasm in his voice, “it’s lucky for Mitchell he’s got a friend in Captain Kirk. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have anyone for whom to risk his life on a regular basis.”
Hinch started to nod ... then stopped herself. “Was that a joke?” she asked the chief medical officer, her tone a bit suspicious.
Maintaining a deadpan expression, Piper shook his head. “I’m a doctor, Nurse Hinch. I don’t have time for jokes.”
Then he advanced on the doors, watched them open for him, and went to see to his next patient.
Captain’s log, supplemental.
We have completed our survey of Dimorus, our landing parties having managed to avoid further contact with the planet’s lone sentient species. Commander Mitchell—who sustained [59] serious injuries protecting his commanding officer from the above mentioned species—has recovered from his wound and returned to duty. We are now proceeding to the Muhlari system to chart the changes that have taken place there since the Federation’s last visit more than thirteen years ago.
Gary Mitchell leaned across the rec lounge table and lowered his voice, though there were only the four of them in the room. “You guys hear the one about the Klingon prison camp?”
Scotty, who was seated on the other side of the table between Kelso and Sulu, looked askance at the navigator. “I cannae say I have,” he replied, his voice echoing.
“Me, either,” said Kelso.
“But I bet you’re going to tell us about it,” Sulu chuckled.
The navigator took that as an invitation. “Well,” he said, “as it happens, an Earthman is captured by the Klingons during a skirmish out near the neutral zone. They bring the poor bastard to a prison camp in some steamy, smelly jungle, where he meets the commandant of the place.”
“Sounds lovely,” Scotty commented.
“Naturally,” Gary went on, “he’s expecting all manner of horrors at this place. But the commandant tells him it’s not as bad as he thinks. After all, Klingons are a lot more sensitive than other species give them credit for. The prisoner says he doubts that.”
“I’m with him,” Kelso interjected, drawing a [60] laugh from his companions—the navigator included.
“Anyway,” Gary said, “to prove his people aren’t as vicious as they’re made out to be, the commandant goes on to outline the prison camp’s schedule of events. ‘Tell me,’ he says, ‘do you like good food?’ The guy says, ‘Of course I do.’ And the commandant says, ‘Well, you’re going to like Mondays. Every Monday, we have a picnic on the grounds of the prison, and we serve all kinds of Klingon delicacies. But because we’re sensitive to the needs of other races, we also serve Vulcan mollusks, Terran hot dogs, Orion wing slugs and Romulan ale.’ ”
“Doesn’t sound half-bad,” Sulu remarked.
“That’s what our friend the prisoner is thinking,” the navigator noted. “Then the commandant asks him, ‘Do you like listening to music?’ The Terran says, ‘Sure, I guess so.’ And the Klingon tells him, ‘Then you’re going to like Tuesdays. Every Tuesday, we perform a Klingon opera for all the prisoners. But because we know tastes can vary from planet to planet, we also bring in musicians from Earth and Vulcan and other Federation worlds to display their talents.’ The prisoner says, ‘You’re kidding me.’ And the commandant says, ‘I wouldn’t kid about something like that. We Klingons take our music very seriously.’
“Then the commandant asks the guy, ‘Do you like women?’ And the guy says, ‘Very much so.’ And the Klingon says, ‘Then you’re going to like Wednesdays. You see, we know how lonely prison life can be, so every Wednesday we bring in a ship full of women from one of our other prison camps ... [61] women of every species, I might add, so each prisoner can find his or her own soul mate to help pass the time.’ ”
“Where do I sign up?” asked Kelso.
Gary grinned. “The Terran can’t believe all this. He asks the Klingon if it’s all true, and the Klingon swears by his first ancestor that everything’s just as he says it is. And the prisoner is beginning to think he’s not going to have such a bad time at this place after all.
“Then the commandant claps him on the shoulder and says, ‘Tell me, my friend ... do you like being in an arena with a dozen strapping warriors, carving each other to pieces with razor-sharp blades until only one of you is left standing to bellow the praises of the Empire?’
“The Terran looks at him, horrified. ‘Uh ... no,’ he says, ‘I don’t think I’d like that at all.’ And the Klingon says, in a sympathetic voice, ‘In that case, you’re not going to like Thursdays.’ ”
Scotty laughed his heartiest laugh. Sulu chortled as well. But Kelso was so amused he could barely contain himself. In fact, he threw his head back so hard his chair tipped and he went sprawling backward onto the floor.
That made Gary laugh too. And when they saw him laugh, his friends laughed that much harder. Before the navigator knew it, there were tears standing out in his eyes.
Still lying on his back, Kelso shook his head as if he were being tortured. “You’re not going to ... to ...”
[62] “You’re nae goin’ t’ like Thursdays!” Scotty blurted out, red faced with honest mirth.
Sulu shook his head. “That’s a good one,” he gasped.
“Oh, man,” Kelso moaned, holding his stomach. “Oh, man ... for godsakes, Gary, you’re going to be the death of me.”
“Mr. Mitchell,” said a voice that rang authoritatively through the rec lounge, “whatever you’ve been doing to my helmsman, I suggest you desist ... before you disable the man permanently.”
The navigator glanced over his shoulder and saw the figure of Jim Kirk standing inside the open doorway. As the doors whispered closed behind the captain, Gary turned all the way around and got to his feet.
“Begging your pardon, sir,” he said, doing his best to contain his merriment, “but whatever damage I may have caused Mr. Kelso was entirely unintentional, I assure you.”
“Acknowledged,” Kirk replied, obviously resisting a smile. “I know how little you enjoyed being in sickbay yourself. I’m sure the last thing you would want to do is put your friend there.”
By then, Scotty and Sulu were helping the helmsman to his feet. Kelso looked embarrassed but none the worse for wear, despite the captain’s remarks to the contrary.
Gary took a breath to steady himself, then let it out. “So what can we do for you, sir? Engage a Klingon battle cruiser? Beam down to Rigel Ten to rescue some hardheaded ambassador?”
Kirk chuckled dryly. “Nothing quite so dramatic, [63] Mr. Mitchell. I just came to inform you gentlemen that I’ll r
equire your presence in the briefing room in ten minutes.”
Scotty nodded briskly. “We’ll be there, sir.”
“Aye, Captain,” said Sulu.
“Ten minutes, sir,” Kelso confirmed.
The navigator shrugged. “Whatever you say, sir.”
It wasn’t a Starfleet response. But then, his friend wouldn’t be expecting one. Not from him.
Kirk shook his head in mock disapproval. Then he turned to the lounge’s exit again and the doors opened for him. A moment later, he was gone.
Sulu whistled. “I don’t know how you do it, Mitchell.”
Gary glanced at him. “Do what?”
“How you get away with it,” Sulu explained. “If I said that to the captain, I’d find myself in the brig.”
“You and me both,” Kelso commented, picking his chair up off the floor. “But then, we didn’t go to the Academy with Captain Kirk.”
“Hey,” said the navigator, grinning, “can I help it if I always seem to be in the right place at the right time?”
“Speakin’ of that, we’d better get up t’ the briefin’ room,” Scotty noted. “After all, the captain made a point of comin’ down here t’ tell us about the meetin’ himself. The least we can do is be on time.”
“Mr. Scott’s right,” Gary declared. “Let’s get going.”
As the other men filed past him on the way to the door, he put his arm around Kelso and said, “Tell me, Lieutenant. Do you like good food?”
Caught by surprise, the helmsman doubled over [64] with laughter and nearly slammed his shoulder into the bulkhead beside the door. Pulling him back on course, the navigator guided him out of the exit.
After all, he had promised his friend Jim he wouldn’t do Kelso any permanent damage, and he was nothing if not a man of his word.
Kirk looked around at the officers who made up his command staff. There were six of them seated around the briefing room’s sleek, oval table: Spock, Piper, Kelso, Scott, Sulu, and Alden.
And Gary. Of course, Gary.
“As you’re no doubt aware,” the captain said over the ever-present hum of the engines, “the Muhlari system contains a binary star pair in a potentially cataclysmic configuration, which is why the Federation is interested in the system in the first place.”
STAR TREK: TOS #87 - My Brother's Keeper, Book Three - Enterprise Page 5