Star Trek: The Original Series - 162 - Shadow of the Machine

by Scott Harrison

  Spock nodded silently, processing what his mother had said. He climbed to his feet, turning toward the house. After a few steps he stopped and turned back to Amanda.

  “Is it possible that you are displaying the all-too-common human characteristic of oversentimentality? Assigning misplaced human emotions to my father’s actions?”

  “Perhaps,” Amanda replied. “Or perhaps Sarek is not what he seems. Maybe, by choosing to marry a human woman and siring a half-human child, it’s possible that he believes that the Vulcan way might sometimes be wrong.”

  Spock thought about this as he walked back to the house.

  Chapter 6

  IOWA

  Kirk found Uncle Abner out by the farm’s westernmost boundaries, kneeling in front of the lightning shield’s substation, replacing broken circuits. The old man stopped as he approached, climbing to his feet and tugging off his hat. He waved it cheerfully in the air before wiping the sweat from his forehead and jamming it back down onto his head.

  “Jimmy, my boy,” Abner called delightedly. “Hanna said you were on your way to see us today. Didn’t think we’d see you until much later, though.”

  “It would seem that I’m not needed aboard my own ship,” Kirk said playfully. “That’s what you get for having the most efficient and dedicated chief engineer in the entire fleet.”

  “Would that be the Scottish lad?” Abner asked.

  Despite himself, Kirk let out a quick laugh. “I’d hardly call him a ‘lad.’ Although I’m sure he’d thank you kindly for the compliment.”

  “You’d better watch out or he’ll be after stealing that captain’s chair right from under you,” Abner teased.

  “Never,” Kirk said. “Scotty is only happy when he’s tinkering with his engines.”

  “Tell you the truth, I could do with a fella like that right now. This baby has got me stumped, I won’t lie.” Abner pointed a spanner at the section of substation open in front of him.

  Kirk bent forward, peering at the machine; he could feel his uncle studying him. When Kirk straightened up he knew what was coming.

  “I hear you lost a couple of people during that V’Ger business.”

  Kirk said nothing for a moment or two, then nodded. “My executive officer and navigator.”

  “Must be hard, having them taken away like that. I take my hat off to Starfleet: I sure couldn’t handle responsibility like that,” Abner confessed.

  “I’m just thankful we were able to stop it in time, otherwise things could have been a lot worse,” Kirk said.

  Abner nodded in agreement. “D’you remember Andy Kinderman and his family? Used to live in that Victorian over in the next county? That was before they moved to that XJ340 planet, out by Campbell’s World.”

  Kirk had not heard that name for years, not since before Sam had left for the Academy. They’d let Andy join in their game of explorers once or twice. Andy never wanted to be a human explorer, which was too boring, he’d declare. He’d always chosen to be the Vulcan xenobiologist S’alya.

  “Andy Kinderman. Wasn’t he assigned to the Darwin as their chief biologist?” Kirk asked.

  “Got himself reassigned once or twice since then. Last time was five months ago. Decided he was sick of being on a ship, disappearing for months on end. He wanted to be nearer to his family, or at least within shuttle distance.” Abner paused, and there was a genuine sadness in his eyes. “He thought he’d get himself posted to a monitoring station for a little while, nice change, regular shore leave. He told his dad that he wanted to spend more time with them, now that they were getting on in years. Died a week ago, along with the rest of the crew, on the Epsilon Nine station when that V’Ger decided to blow it out of existence.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

  Abner glanced across at Kirk, then quickly looked away again. “He knew the risks of being out there, just the same as that navigator and executive officer of yours.”

  The old man pointed off to the west, down toward an old dirt-track path that led away from the farmhouse and into the dark line of trees at the foot of the hill.

  “I remember one weekend when you and George and Andy decided that you wanted to go out tracking in those woods. Packed up your old three-man tent intending on camping out for the night. Your pa said that it was going to rain, but that didn’t deter George none. He said, ‘We’re explorers, and real explorers brave all kinds of weathers on all kinds of planets.’ ”

  Kirk smiled. He remembered that weekend well. “Sam said that ‘a little drop of rain wasn’t going to stop us from exploring the woods.’ ”

  • • •

  “But why do we have to spend the whole night out here?” Andy asked. They’d been walking for almost an hour; he’d worn new hiking boots, and his feet were getting sore.

  “We’re explorers,” Sam explained. “And to be an explorer you have to, you know, explore.”

  This made Jimmy giggle. “Yeah, whoever heard of a famous explorer just sitting at home and reading about places?”

  “Exactly.” Sam nodded. “Like Jimmy said, you can’t just read about them, you have to go to them. So that’s what we’re doing: going to them.”

  “But there might be bears in here,” Andy said wearily.

  “That’s okay—Jimmy’s brought his phaser with him. If any bears show up, he’ll deal with them.”

  Andy’s eyes grew wide with surprise. “What, you’ve got a real phaser? Your father lets you play with a real phaser?”

  Sam rolled his eyes. “Well, obviously, it’s not a real phaser. We’re not dumb enough to play with one of those.”

  “No. Uh-uh,” Jimmy agreed. “Pa would be awful mad with us if we had a real phaser. He says they’re too dangerous.”

  “Jimmy’s got one that shoots little pellets,” Sam said. “So I took a bag of ball bearings from the toolshed before we left. Any bear that tries to eat us will get a gutful of metal.”

  • • •

  “It rained,” Kirk said, remembering the cold night they’d all spent out there in the woods.

  “Made no difference, though. You three stuck it out, just like George said you would.” Abner glanced across at Kirk, and there was that look of sadness. “I wish Peter was more like you and your brother. He used to be, when he was younger, but since he lost his family . . . it’s like we’re living with a different boy.”

  “Losing someone is hard enough at the best of times, but when you’re only a boy . . .”

  “It’s been six years, Jim. I’m not saying he should have gotten over it by now, but he should be dealing with it.” Abner thought about it for a second, then said, “It’s like he’s not alive anymore, just going through the motions, like some kind of automaton. He’s just repeating a set program: get up, eat, go to school, tinker in the shed, eat, sleep.”

  “Aunt Hanna says that you’d like me to talk with him,” Kirk said.

  Abner swallowed. It was obvious he was feeling uncomfortable. “We didn’t want to ask, believe me. In fact, when Hanna first raised the subject of writing to you, I was against it. I thought it was unfair to drag you halfway across the quadrant, but when we heard that the Enterprise would be coming home . . . We just didn’t know what else to do.”

  “I’m not exactly sure what it is you want me to say to him,” Kirk confessed.

  “Tell you the truth, we don’t know either. Your aunt and I are just clutching at straws.”

  “Thanks, Abner,” Kirk said.

  “Hell, you’re a Starfleet admiral; you’ve faced worse things than a teenage boy. I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Abner said with a smile.

  Kirk looked back toward the hill, at the dark line of trees standing sentinel at its base, the dirt path like a fading scar, disappearing between them.

  Of the three there was only him left now. No Sam, no Andy, just
him. What was he supposed to tell Peter?

  • • •

  The family dinner did not go well.

  To be fair, it wasn’t all Peter’s fault. A lot of the blame was Abner’s. It was true that the old man was just trying to help the boy get himself back on the right track, only Kirk wished he weren’t so damned pushy about it.

  But, if he was being honest with himself, pushiness did seem to be a Kirk family trait.

  Peter barely spoke during the meal. He’d said hello to Kirk when he’d sat down, but after that it was mostly just “please” and “thank you.” He even avoided eye contact whenever possible.

  Kirk couldn’t really blame him. The last time they’d seen each other, he’d been captain of the ship that was transporting him and his parents’ bodies back from Deneva. And the time before that . . . well, even Kirk couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Peter.

  Not that his brother had been any better at staying in touch.

  Peter was almost twenty-two months old before Sam had gotten around to contacting his brother, via a subspace message.

  His elder brother had been living on Theta Anterial II for a while, and he’d certainly changed. He looked broader now—not just in the face but across the chest, as though the living was good out there on the colony worlds. His hair was starting to thin, the color lightening in patches at the temples in preparation for the inevitable onslaught of gray.

  “Hey, Jimmy-Boy, I want you to say hello to your nephew, Peter,” Sam said, waving into the pickup. “Peter, say hi to your uncle Jim.”

  But the boy on his lap wasn’t listening. He was too intent on the small model starship that was gripped in his short chubby fingers.

  “Whoa! How did he get so big?” Kirk asked. “Aurelan only gave birth to the little fella a few months ago.”

  On the screen his elder brother shook his head, and for a second the image began to break up. Kirk leaned forward, adjusting the signal booster, which thankfully fixed the problem.

  “Been nearly two years now, Jimmy. Hard to believe, huh?” Sam bounced the boy up and down on his knee, and Peter began to giggle happily.

  Kirk was shocked. “Two years?”

  “Especially out here, the days are six hours shorter.” When Kirk didn’t laugh, Sam said, “That was a joke, knucklehead.”

  What was it Spock had told him this morning? “I have found that it is a common practice among humans to attempt to mask one’s problems and shortcomings with humor.”

  When he was younger, Kirk had been keen to learn everything he could from his older brother. It seemed the trick of hiding the truth from those you loved was just one of the many lessons he had learned. Sam had been the perfect teacher.

  Now at dinner Peter had chosen to sit quietly throughout the meal while the others talked. Kirk wasn’t even sure the boy was listening. Once or twice he saw Peter glance across at them, probably just checking that he wasn’t being spoken to. His nephew might have had no desire to join in their conversation, but it was obvious to Kirk that Peter took care not to upset or offend those around him by making them think he was ignoring them.

  The silence would have continued unabated had the subject of Starfleet Academy not been raised.

  “So, it looks like I’ll be losing my right-hand man in a few months,” Uncle Abner declared to those gathered around the table.

  Peter glanced up quickly, a troubled look on his face.

  “Abner, maybe this isn’t the time . . .” Hanna began to say.

  Abner waved a dismissive hand at her. “Nonsense, there couldn’t be a better time. We have one man sitting at the table whose Starfleet career is the stuff of legend, and another who has the potential to have one every bit as important.”

  Kirk looked from Abner to Peter, then back again. “What’s this all about?”

  “Peter applied for Starfleet Academy at the beginning of the year, and he got a reply from them last week. He’s been accepted.”

  Kirk beamed across at his nephew. “This is wonderful news, Peter. Your mother and father would be very proud of you.”

  “Yeah? Well, we’ll never know because they’re both dead.”

  At first everyone around the table was shocked into silence. None of them was prepared to believe that the words had come from Peter’s mouth, let alone that they were aimed at James Kirk.

  Hanna was the first to recover herself.

  “Peter, that’s no way to speak to your uncle,” she admonished. “He was only congratulating you.”

  “No, that’s okay.” Kirk raised both hands, palms outward, as if to say I’m fine, I’m not hurt.

  “That’s kind of you, Jim, but it’s not okay,” Abner said, his eyes on Peter. “It was downright uncalled for. Your uncle Jim was being gracious.”

  “I’m sure Peter had his reasons for saying what he did.” Kirk could see that there was an argument brewing, and he was doing everything he could to defuse the situation.

  “If he did, then I’d sure as hell like to hear them, because he wasn’t brought up to talk to people like that,” Abner said.

  “Nobody knows how I was brought up—no one,” Peter said, suddenly losing his temper. “Not you, not Uncle Jim, not even my own mom and dad. No one’s ever stopped long enough to ask me.”

  Abner shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

  “Please, Ab,” Hanna warned.

  “No, if the boy’s got something to say, then let him speak,” Abner said.

  Peter pushed his plate away, then stood up. “May I be excused from the table now, please, Aunt Hanna?”

  “No,” said Abner. “You still haven’t explained yourself.”

  “Yes, of course you can,” Hanna said as she picked up his half-empty plate. “But don’t you be too long out in that shed.”

  The door clicked shut and Peter was gone.

  Abner was furious. “Why the hell did you just excuse him, Han? We can’t have him talking to folk like that.”

  “The boy’s upset and you know it,” she replied. “Shouting at him isn’t going to do any good. Never has done in the past. Just leave him be.”

  “Maybe I should speak to him now,” Kirk said suddenly, surprising himself.

  Abner nodded curtly and said, “If you wouldn’t mind, Jim, we’d both be most obliged. The boy’s not been paying attention to us for a while, but maybe he’ll listen to you some, seeing as you’re—”

  “An admiral in Starfleet?” Kirk interrupted.

  “Well, I was going to say his father’s brother, but I’m sure that’ll help, too,” Abner told him.

  • • •

  A knot of slate-gray clouds was sliding slowly across the evening sky, swallowing up the expanse of rich dark blue as they went. Kirk stepped out of the house and into the yard. The wind was starting to pick up, howling down the narrow walkway between the barn and the toolshed, kicking the dust up around his feet.

  The trouble with Uncle Abner was that he was too much like Kirk’s father, a dyed-in-the-wool traditionalist who liked things done his way or not at all. He understood men like Abner—that’s what living with his father had taught him. Kirk prided himself on his ability to talk to any green crew, to calm their fears, to steady their nerves. However, a teenage boy who was still suffering the mental torment of his family’s death, that was a different matter entirely.

  Kirk had expected to corner his nephew in the toolshed, but the boy wasn’t there. Instead, he found Peter in the barn, tending to the horses. Kirk slipped inside and pulled the door closed against the wind.

  “He’s magnificent,” Kirk said, pointing to the pure black stallion that Peter was grooming. “What’s his name?”

  It took Peter so long to answer him that Kirk began to think the young boy might be ignoring him.

  “His name’s Airdancer,” Peter said at last.<
br />
  “Good name.”

  “I helped deliver—Uncle Abner said I could name him,” Peter told him.

  “He reminds me of a horse my father used to own when I was your age. Black Jack. Only he had a patch of white just here.” Kirk placed a finger on the horse’s forehead. “He was a spirited beast too. My father would only let me ride him while he was there. He used to say that if Black Jack attempted to bolt, he’d try to throw me, and I could end up with a broken back.”

  Peter glanced across at Kirk. “You used to ride horses?”

  Kirk nodded. “Still do, when I get the chance.”

  “I never knew you were interested in horses, Uncle Jim. I mean, no one ever told me.”

  “I’m a man with hidden depths,” he said with a smile.

  Kirk wandered over to the nearby enclosure and patted a white-and-gray mare firmly on the nose. In reply, the horse flicked her ears and snorted.

  “That’s Bella,” Peter informed him. “She likes being scratched behind the ear, but only when the mood takes her. Other times she can get kind of cranky.”

  Like Airdancer, Bella was a very noble-looking creature, and obviously well looked after. Kirk assumed—somewhat incorrectly—that this and the toolshed were Peter’s refuge from what he saw as the old man’s disappointment.

  A sudden gust of wind rattled at the door and the horses became restless. Peter leaned across and placed a soothing hand on Airdancer’s forehead.

  “Easy, boy,” he whispered into the ear of the black stallion. “It’s just the wind, there’s no need to fret.” Then to Kirk he said, “There’s a storm coming. The horses are usually the first to know it. I hope Uncle Abner got that lightning shield fixed.”