And then Kirk understood. Skalli was a Huanni, a highly emotional creature. Lissan was descended from the same genes. For centuries the Falorians had lived in isolation, nursing grudges both real and imagined, while the Huanni tried to cover their wrongdoings by simply pretending they hadn’t happened. And now, a Huanni sat and listened as a Falorian poured forth the pain of those centuries, listened with her wide-open heart and taking Lissan’s anger and pain as her own, healing them both as she did so. It would take more than this to completely mend the rift between the estranged cousins, but it was one hell of a start. It was a tactic that would never [299] have occurred to Kirk, and it was the only tactic that had a prayer of working.
“You’ll give us the codes to order thé nanoprobes to self-destruct?” Kirk asked.
Lissan met his gaze evenly. “I will,” he said.
“Then let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty-six
THEY MATERIALIZED in the control center, and Kirk couldn’t help but think that although the room looked exactly the same, things were now very, very different.
He knew he was taking an enormous gamble in trusting Lissan. Spock had been against the idea from the outset. He claimed there would be time later for the Federation to meet with the Falorian government and discuss the nanoprobe technology. Kirk had argued that every moment was one in which someone, somewhere, was analyzing the tiny machines. They had a chance to forever remove the possibility of the virus harming anyone, and he wasn’t going to miss it.
Spock had then offered to perform a mind-meld, but Lissan refused, looking frightened. Skalli had intervened, tearfully insisting that to force Lissan to submit would be to cause him extreme torment. Despite their open emotions, Huanni possessed brains with natural barriers that prohibited easy telepathic contact. Falorian brains would likely be constructed in the [301] same way. Spock might eventually be able to tear down the barriers, but at a cost to both him and Lissan.
“We have to show him that he can trust us, and that we trust him,” she had pleaded.
Kirk had been saved by his intuition more times than he cared to admit. He was a big believer in building bridges between peoples, and he knew what happened when a Vulcan forced a mind-meld.
It was a time for trust. And the stakes had never been higher. If he gambled incorrectly—if Lissan was playing both him and Skalli for fools—millions could die.
Lissan seated himself at a console while Kalaskar busily went about entering an obviously lengthy list of code. Finally, the scientist sat back. For a long moment, no one moved.
“Lissan,” Kirk said. “Now would be good.”
“It is not so easy, Kirk,” the Falorian Kal-Tor said. “When I enter this code, I will have willfully destroyed all chance of my people ever rising to their rightful place.”
“That’s not true,” Kirk said. “There’ll be an investigation. Some of you will be imprisoned. But we’ll not hold an entire race responsible. And what you are about to do will go a long way toward mitigating our response.”
“Imprisoned,” Lissan echoed. “I am sure I will be. How long do you think, Kirk? Forever?”
Kirk wanted to lie, but he couldn’t. “I don’t know, Lissan,” he said honestly. “I’ll do what I can for you and your people. As will Skalli. But I can’t stand here and [302] tell you that there won’t be consequences for what you tried to do.”
Slowly, Lissan nodded. “Good,” he said. “Had you lied to me I would have known that none of you were to be trusted, and that you would probably have decimated my world. I would have entered the activation code.”
He turned and looked at Skalli. She gave him a tremulous smile. Returning his attention to the console, his fingers flew as he entered a series of code almost as lengthy as that which Kalaskar had.
“Preparing to activate self-destruct sequence,” the computer said in a clipped male voice. “Awaiting proper authorization.”
“Lissan, series one one four one seven one eight eight four two.”
There was a long moment where lights chased each other around the console. Kirk realized that every muscle in his body was tense, expecting betrayal. Had he made the right choice? He was gambling now with lives other than his own.
Then, “Self-destruct sequence activated. All nanoprobes destroyed. Virus rendered harmless.”
And Kirk permitted himself to breathe. He clapped Lissan on the back. Skalli wriggled happily in her seat. Kirk flipped open his communicator.
“Report.”
“The chief engineer informs me that the nanoprobes have harmlessly imploded,” came Spock’s calm voice. “Apparently, there is not a sufficient amount left of them for analysis.”
[303] “That is ... exactly what I wanted to hear, Mr. Spock. Beam us up and let’s get to Huanni at top speed to give Captain Sulu a hand. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the assistance.”
Sulu was practically humming when he stepped onto the bridge. Ensign Tuvok, the junior science officer on duty, regarded him with barely concealed contempt. Sulu stifled a grin. For someone who claimed to have no emotions, Tuvok certainly gave the appearance that he had quite a lot of them. More than once, Sulu had received what could be called a “dressing down” by this very Vulcan Vulcan. He’d never put the fellow on report; he enjoyed teasing him too much. In a way, it was a very familiar relationship. Sometimes, Sulu could imagine Kirk’s voice coming from his own lips, and hearing Tuvok utter Spocklike retorts. No, he’d not chastise a Vulcan for simply being who he was.
He settled into his chair and gazed at the screen. Huan was still under attack, but as Sulu watched he saw several of the mismatched Syndicate ships stop their scavenging. In a few moments, they were joined by several others. More and more odd, cobbled-together ships appeared.
Sulu’s first officer, an elderly woman named Janine Clark, looked over at him. “Captain, care to let us in on what’s going on?”
“There’s an old saying,” Sulu said. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend. The Falorians right now are our enemies. And those ships out there—well, they’re the Falorians’ enemy too.”
[304] “I don’t understand,” Clark said. “Aren’t they all Falorian vessels?”
“Patience,” Sulu said. It was obvious to him that the Falorians had obtained the shoddy looking but actually well built ships from the Syndicate. Such ships were typical of the Syndicate, but they were also typical of small, independently owned vessels. It was one of the reasons that the Syndicate was so hard to track down. Sulu thought of the early days of sailing, about which he enjoyed reading. Back then, pirates prowled the seas. They didn’t have clearly identifiable “pirate ships.” They had ships they stole, like the Syndicate did. It was part of what made them so dangerous. A captain would see a ship in the distance that appeared to be a member of his own country’s fleet. The hapless captain wouldn’t know he was about to be attacked by pirates until and unless they flew the famous skull and crossbones.
At that moment, a dark spot began appearing on the hulls of some of the vessels around Huan.
“What the hell ... ?” Clark’s voice trailed off as the Excelsior’s crew stared. Sulu knew what was happening and in a moment they’d figure it out too. A false panel covered those hulls, which was now being retracted to reveal something painted beneath. Gradually the dark blot formed itself into a clearly recognizable shape of a circle with a lightning bolt shot through it—one of the recognizable symbols of the Orion Syndicate.
“But—but—” Clark began.
“Skull and crossbones,” Sulu said.
“Those ships are members of the Orion Syndicate,” [305] Tuvok said crisply. He apparently did not suffer from Clark’s present inability to find the words.
“I’m glad you can identify them so promptly, Mr. Tuvok,” Sulu said.
More clearly marked Orion ships had appeared. Sulu waited ... waited. ...
“Shields up,” he ordered. “Lock phasers on the weapons and nearest Falorian ship. Those are the ones without th
e Syndicate symbol.”
“Sir,” said Clark, “our orders are to—”
“On this ship, my orders are the only ones that count. Lock phasers.”
“Phasers locked, sir.”
“Fire.”
The minute red phaser fire hit the Falorian ship, every single Orion vessel began to attack as well. Once the order had been given to fight, the Excelsior crew dived in with gusto. Sitting here waiting had taken its toll, and now they were more than eager to take action.
The Federation ship rocked. “Shields down fourteen percent,” Sulu’s tactical officer said. “Some damage to decks eight and nine.”
“Return fire,” Sulu ordered. It was a direct hit, and the Falorian ship that had damaged them spun slowly and then came to a halt, hanging dead in space.
The battle continued, but the tide had definitely turned. The Orions knew all the weaknesses of the vessels they had sold to the Falorians, and exploited them mercilessly. More than once, Sulu felt a stab of pity for the Falorian fleet. He targeted only weapons and engines, but the Orions aimed to kill.
[306] Finally, Sulu turned to his communications officer. “Open hailing frequencies and send this message: This is Captain Hikaru Sulu of the U.S.S. Excelsior to the Falorian vessels. Several dozen Federation ships are on their way, and the Orions and I can certainly keep you here until they arrive. Surrender at once, or prepare to continue to fight.”
A pale, female face crowned with long ears filled the screen. She was bleeding from a cut on her forehead. “This is Commander Yalka,” she said, gasping. “The Falorian fleet surrenders.”
“Stand by for terms. Jackson, reenter the coordinates I gave you a few moments ago and put it onscreen.” Time to let these children know just how roughly their captain was willing to play.
The masked face of the Orion filled the screen. “So, are there really Federation ships on their way, or was that just a nice bluff?”
“Oh, they’re coming, all right,” Sulu replied. “Which means that your people should probably clear out.”
The Orion cocked his head. “You didn’t let me off so easily the last time,” he said.
“I didn’t let you off at all, as you’ll recall,” Sulu said. “You—er—left the party early.”
“So why are. you doing so today?”
“Let’s just say that I’m glad the ships of my fleet can go into warp without going into the next world,” Sulu said. “I imagine your people are, too. And we’ll leave it at that.” He grinned. He held up the first two fingers of his right hand. “That’s two favors you owe me now. Sulu out.”
[307] The image of the Orion was replaced by that of a now-safe Huan. The Orion ships covered their telltale symbol again and went into warp.
Stunned silence reigned on the bridge. It was, predictably, Tuvok who found his voice first.
“Sir ... you collaborated with known criminals, and permitted them to escape.”
“Yes, Tuvok, I did. As captain, that decision was mine to make. We’ve saved countless innocent Huanni and had the entire Falorian fleet delivered right into our hands.”
He smiled softly, a fond memory in his mind. “And besides—it’s what Jim Kirk would have done.”
“Good God,” Kirk said, as the Kol’Targh dropped out of warp. He hadn’t realized the odds had been this bad. There were dozens of dangerous-looking ships, and the Excelsior sat exposed. He had just opened his mouth to order the shields up when Uhura said, “Captain, we’re being hailed. It’s Captain Sulu.”
“Onscreen.”
For someone who was clearly outnumbered, Sulu certainly looked calm and relaxed. “Hello, Captain Kirk. Glad you could make it.”
“Captain Sulu,” Kirk said, puzzled, “do you require assistance?”
“Indeed I do. We’ve got an unconditional surrender and we’ll want to interrogate some of the commanders.”
“You’ve ... got an unconditional surrender,” Kirk repeated. “I see.” He groped for words, then simply said, “Very well done, Captain.”
[308] “I had a little help,” Sulu smiled. “And I see you did too. Why is it I’m always seeing you on a Klingon ship?”
“I’ve no idea,” Kirk said, and meant it. “It looks like you have everything under control, Captain. I’ll send some people over to give you a hand, and then I’d very much enjoy it if I can transport over and ask you ... how you did it. Kirk out.”
He leaned back in his chair and looked over at Spock. “Well,” he said. “Nothing like racing to the rescue and arriving just in time to help with cleanup. Mr. Spock, you know the crew better than I. Send someone over to Captain Sulu. I’ll be in sickbay.”
Sickbay was crammed full, with many people all talking at once. Yet over the din, McCoy’s distinctive voice could be heard: “Good God, man, do you people still use needles! You’ll punch a hole right through his arm with that thing! I’d pay real money for a decent hypospray along about now. Yes, I know I was supervising the medical exchange, but we were still working on anatomy when Spock high-tailed it out to this godforsaken part of the galaxy. Now show me how to use that.”
It was music to Kirk’s ears. He threaded his way through the crush of colonists, most of whose injuries appeared quite minor, and tapped McCoy on the shoulder.
“Alex, I told you to—Jim!” McCoy laughed brightly and embraced his old friend.
“Sorry Spock dragged you out to this godforsaken part of the galaxy,” Kirk said.
[309] “Nah, wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
“How are my nephews?”
McCoy sobered a bit. “Physically, they’re fine, but emotionally—well, you probably know better than I do what they’ve been through.”
“They both down here still?”
“Yep. Told them to stay put until whatever was happening happened. Sounds like we dodged a phaser blast today.”
“We did indeed.” Kirk searched the crowd, then caught a glimpse of two fair heads at the far end of sickbay. He made his way toward them. They were sitting on what passed for a Klingon diagnostic bed. Physically, they were almost touching, but by their expressions and body language, they were trying to put light-years between them. Julius’s face was still slightly swollen, but the blood that had turned his handsome face into a ghoulish mask had been washed off and the lacerations were healed. Alex looked fine; as Kirk had thought, the wounds the boy had incurred during the staged beating had been minimal and easily treatable.
“What are a couple of nice boys like you doing in a place like this,” Kirk said lightly.
As one, they glanced up at him, and their expressions were so similar Kirk almost laughed. Why hadn’t he realized before how much they resembled one another, despite their great differences? He’d been so busy patting Alex on the head and worrying about Julius’s sullenness, he’d missed how very much alike they were.
“The doctor says you’re both going to be all right. How do you feel?”
[310] Neither one answered. Kirk sighed. “All right, boys, this is your Uncle Jim speaking, and he’s a starship captain. You’re both very lucky to be alive. You ought to realize that.”
“It’s all ruined,” Alex said. “I was such a fool. It’s all ruined now.” He ran a hand through his thick fair hair. His father Sam had had that same habit, and for a moment he looked so much like Kirk’s dead brother that Kirk’s breath caught. “God! How could I have been so stupid! I put everybody in danger because I was too blind to see what was right before my eyes, that the Falorians were just using me and that my own brother ...”
He closed his jaw with an almost audible snap and looked down at the floor.
Julius swallowed hard. “That your own brother was dealing with criminals in order to get you the colony,” he finished. “You’re kicking yourself because you believed in me. I’ve always been good at lying, Alex. You know that.”
“But I never thought you’d lie to me.” Alex’s voice cracked on the last word.
“I’d have
done anything to help you realize your dream. I’d have killed for you. I’d have died for you.”
“Don’t you get it, Julius?” Now Alex did look at his baby brother, raw pain in every line of his body. “I never wanted anyone to suffer, to, to get hurt, to die for what I wanted. I wanted a peaceful colony, one where technology could be invented and used to benefit everyone. Instead because of this damned colony technology nearly killed millions of people. I’m a failure.”
[311] “You didn’t fail, Alex,” Kirk said, softly so as not to shatter the moment. “Your dream was and still is a worthy one. So what if this one venture didn’t work out? Do you know how many times colonies had to be founded before they hit on the right combination of ideas, resources, and people? I’m certain there would be many species willing to fund another attempt. Technology for peaceful, humanitarian means is a noble and brave ideal, one from which you and your people never deviated. You could have fought, and you didn’t. You always sought a peaceful solution. That’s going to resonate with a lot of people when the story gets told.”
Julius snorted. “Yeah, and when the story gets told, Julius Kirk is going to be a big black mark against his uncle’s legacy. Piracy, information trafficking, theft—”
“Courage,” Kirk said. “A willingness to own up to his mistakes—mistakes that he only made in the first place because of a deep love for his brother. True remorse and every effort to help correct the wrongs he’d done. And an uncle who’s very proud of him, and who would be honored to stand by his side during his trial.”
“Nice pep talk, Uncle Jim,” Alex said. “But a pep talk isn’t going to make everything all better.”
“I know,” Kirk said. “Just like I know that showing up once or twice a year for a few hours wasn’t really being any kind of an uncle to you. I’ve made my mistakes, too. But mistakes don’t have to scar you forever. Life’s too short, too precious. What happened on Sanctuary can be a beginning, not an ending, if you let it.”
[312] He looked at them for a moment longer, then sighed and turned away.
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