Collision Course

by William Shatner

  Mallory smiled unpleasantly. “And I like a challenge.” He grabbed a fistful of Kirk’s overalls at the shoulder, yanked Kirk off balance, and flipped open his communicator. “Mallory to Sloane Complex control. Two to beam to HQ holding. DGS priority alpha five one five. Acknowledge.”

  Kirk was left to struggle uselessly, unable to loosen the man’s solid grip, furious with his helplessness. “You can’t beam me anywhere! I have rights!”

  “Sloane Complex control to Mallory, acknowledging your DGS priority alpha five one five. Stand by for force-field attenuation…”

  “I said let go!” Kirk shouted. “Help! Help! I’m being kidnapped!” But the halls remained deserted.

  Kirk winced in disbelief as much as in pain as Mallory shoved him against the wall.

  “You’re not being kidnapped, kid—you’re being arrested.”

  “Energizing…”

  Then Kirk felt the known world disappear as the ops center corridor, the bank of maintenance terminals, and everything around him except his captor dissolved into light.

  A moment later, or perhaps days later, Kirk felt solid feet under his ground again…or was that solid ground under his feet?

  He shook his head, disoriented. He looked around. Mallory still stood beside him, his grip still on his shoulder, but everything else was different.

  For just a moment, he glimpsed the interior of a transporter room. Two technicians were at a console.

  Kirk looked down. He was standing on a glowing disk. He looked up. Another glowing disk was above him.

  Mallory gave him an unsympathetic look. “First time?”

  Then one of the technicians said, “Energize,” and it all happened again.

  This time when solidity returned, Mallory let go and Kirk dropped to his knees and retched.

  “Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.”

  Kirk raised his head, wished he hadn’t, wiped bitter liquid from his face. “You…disintegrated me. Twice.”

  Mallory hauled Kirk back to his feet. “Well, since I put you back together again both times, we’re even.”

  Kirk felt dizzy, but he pretended to be even dizzier, rocking back and forth as he looked around at this new location.

  He and Mallory had been transported to an open plaza outside Starfleet Headquarters. Outside. Kirk hid a smile. Mallory was an idiot. “I think…I think I’m going to pass out,” Kirk said weakly. He started to wobble.

  Mallory guided him to the edge of a planter. “Some people are sensitive the first few times, but disorientation should only last a few seconds.”

  Kirk hung his head between his knees, groaned. “Got this inner ear thing…gonna be sick again…”

  Mallory sighed. “Let me get some help.”

  “Some water…” Kirk moaned.

  “And some water. Just stay put.”

  Kirk grabbed his stomach and rolled onto his side on the edge of the planter. “I can’t move. Why won’t it stop spinning?”

  Mallory went up the stairs, two at a time.

  Mallory’s assistant was waiting for him by the main entrance. “Got your priority code.” She pointed out toward the main plaza. “Is that the Kirk kid?”

  Mallory looked back to see someone in a maintenance uniform racing at top speed toward a subway entrance, expertly weaving in and out of other pedestrians, fully recovered.

  “That’s him.”

  “Where’s he going in such a hurry?”

  “He thinks he’s escaping from Starfleet.”

  “Ha,” Sally said. “He’s got a lot to learn.”

  Mallory looked thoughtful. “So do we—from him.”

  24

  For Abel Griffyn, the best part of being assigned to Earth was that he did not have to fear being killed in his sleep every night—always a possibility in the camps on the frontier.

  And then there were the women here. In the camps, the sexes had separate quarters. Fraternization was a reward for both sides, rarely given. But on Earth…

  When Zee Bayloff appeared in the doorway to his office on the Pacific Rome, Griffyn casually reached out and crushed Dala to his chest.

  “Interrupting something?” Zee asked.

  Griffyn took a moment to enjoy the annoyance and jealousy in her voice.

  Dala also knew how to play the scene. Slowly, she stood back from him, letting her hands trail across his chest as she smiled at their visitor, and only then appeared to remember to adjust the seal on her shimmering red skinsuit. “Zee.”

  “Dala.” Zee moved to the side so she wouldn’t block the door. “Why don’t you find another playmate down on deck? Unless they’re as sick of you as I am?”

  Dala looked at Griffyn. “I’m not going anywhere, am I?”

  Griffyn waved Dala over to the battered couch, where she curled up gracefully and blew him a kiss.

  He came out from behind his desk and sat down on it. He spread his arms wide to welcome Zee, knowing how much it would bother Dala. He hadn’t been able to make up his mind between the two, so he hadn’t. He loved Earth.

  “How’s my little admiral?” he teased. “I miss your uniform.” Zee was wearing baggy green pants and a loose jacket that made her shapeless, unremarkable.

  But Zee stayed by the open doorway. “Drop dead.”

  Griffyn laughed and let his arms drop to his side. “You first. Dala’s always telling me no one needs to see a mid hanging around my ship.”

  There was a soft hissing noise from the couch, and Griffyn glanced over to see Dala expertly using a cosmetics wand to touch up the iridescent red butterfly wings painted over her eyes. He smiled.

  But Zee kept her eyes on Griffyn. “Kirk’s got some new plan for helping Elissa.”

  Griffyn stopped playing. This was business. “So what is it?”

  “They wouldn’t tell me. But I watched them take the monorail to the Sloane Complex.”

  “They won’t find anything. The investigators didn’t.”

  “I don’t know about that, but when Elissa came back—without Kirk—she was in a lot better mood. She said she expected the honor board to be postponed and then dropped. I think they did find something. And we both know what it was.”

  “Did you take the jammer out of the lab?”

  “Me? I can’t get in there again. You were going to arrange that.”

  Griffyn heaved himself off his desk and moved toward Zee. He could feel Dala’s eyes follow every step.

  “But you’re my best insider at the Academy.” For Dala’s benefit, he traced Zee’s cheek with a long-nailed finger. “My little admiral.”

  Zee slapped his hand away. “Until this thing gets wrapped up and Elissa takes the fall for the missing dilithium, I’m not doing anything to draw attention. If you have anyone else at the Academy, use them, not me.”

  Griffyn stepped back, hooked his hands into his gunbelt. “We have an arrangement.”

  “I’ve done everything you’ve asked. But if they catch me taking out the jammer and figure out why…they won’t just kick me out of the Academy, they’ll put me in rehab. Then I’m no good to anyone. And what’s the general going to do when he finds out he’s lost his best chance for getting a spy in Starfleet because you fouled up?”

  From the couch, Dala gave a theatrical sigh. “Just kill them, Griffy.”

  Griffyn didn’t appreciate the interruption. “Kill who?”

  “All of them. Kirk. His brother. No more interference.”

  “They’re already on the list,” Griffyn said. “But first—” He ruffled Zee’s hair. “—Zee’s right, I need to protect the general’s property here. Elissa has to be tagged for the dilithium. Officially. After that, well…accidents will happen.”

  Just as Zee knocked his hand away again, Griffyn heard the sound of multiple laser shots hum from the cargo deck and voices shout for someone to stay where he was.

  Griffyn whipped over to the slanting windows, hand going to the laser pistol holstered on his belt. He froze as he saw the kids on the deck
swarm a tall, dark-haired teenager in a black cloak. As the kids dragged him away from the holographic wall, the teenager’s long hair flew up and—

  “Dala!” Griffyn said. “Get over here!” He pointed at Zee. “You…stay away from the window.”

  Dala was beside him at once.

  “Is that your Vulcan?”

  “Spock,” Dala exclaimed. “That little creep.”

  “If I find out he followed you here—”

  Griffyn pounded his fist on the window and the kids on the deck looked up. “Hold ’im there! I’m coming down!”

  All the machinery on the cargo deck was correctly powered off when Griffyn stormed down the metal staircase with Dala in tow.

  His five guards—the general’s best, aged twelve to fifteen—had their laser rifles trained on the captured Vulcan. Two of his mechanics, both sixteen and muscular, secured him with arm holds. Even one of his eight-year-olds was brandishing a flashdriver in hopes of using it as a weapon if the Vulcan teenager tried anything.

  The rest of his gang of kids had formed a wall between their prey and any escape route.

  Griffyn looked to the back of the cargo deck to make certain his other visitors of the day had the presence of mind to stay out of sight, then told his mechanics to let their prize go.

  The instant they released their arm holds, Spock straightened, apparently unhurt and unperturbed by the sudden violence of his capture.

  “He just walked through the screen and started yammering,” one of Griffyn’s guards reported.

  “I merely asked to meet with you, Abel Griffyn,” Spock corrected.

  Griffyn hated Vulcans. Their lack of fear was disconcerting. He yanked Dala closer. “You mean me or your girlfriend here?”

  “She is not my girlfriend,” Spock said. “I did not expect her to be here. I came to speak to you.”

  “How’d you know where to find me?”

  “You have dealings with my father.”

  Griffyn didn’t know what Spock meant by that. “Do I?”

  “His name is Sarek. He works at the Vulcan Embassy. Five times in the past sixty-eight days, my father has come here to sell you a valuable artifact which he has stolen from the collection in the—”

  Griffyn suddenly realized what was going on, needed to cut this short. “I thought you were the one selling them.”

  The Vulcan teenager’s steady gaze flickered for an instant. “I sold one to this woman,” he said.

  “You working for your father?”

  Now Griffyn saw Spock’s impassive expression change again. This time to confusion. What kind of Vulcan is this kid?

  “At the time I sold the artifact, I did not know Sarek had sold others.”

  “Quite a coincidence,” Griffyn said, intrigued. “Two thieves in one family. And a Vulcan one at that.”

  Now Spock plainly looked indignant.

  “I am not a thief.” But as soon as he’d said those words, he appeared to regret them.

  Griffyn was amazed. He had never seen any Vulcan react this way. He tightened his grip on Dala, who glared at him and hissed, “I told you he was different.”

  “So, Spock, how’d you know how to find me?” Griffyn felt Dala’s body become rigid beside him.

  Spock hesitated, as if making certain what he said next was appropriate. His face returned to typical Vulcan blankness. “This location was encrypted in my father’s computer.”

  “Very good.”

  “I do not understand why you would think it was ‘good’ that evidence of your illegal dealings exists in a computer in the Vulcan compound.”

  “Someday I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Griffyn held out a hand to one of his guards holding a laser rifle, snapped his fingers. “Disruptor.”

  “What did you give my father in return for the stolen artifacts?”

  The guard tossed Griffyn a Klingon hand weapon. It was an ugly thing, with dangerously sharp, diamond-shaped blades on the side, to be used as a slashing weapon when the power cell was exhausted.

  Griffyn checked the weapon’s settings. “Your father has…let’s call them ‘needs’ that Vulcans aren’t supposed to have.” He showed the disruptor setting to his guard. “Is this for heavy stun?”

  “One more notch,” the teenager said.

  “Oh, right—I keep getting those little number things mixed up.” Griffyn nodded his thanks. “Glad I checked. I would’ve set his ears on fire with that one.”

  “What needs?” Spock asked hesitantly.

  With his free hand, Griffyn shoved Dala away from him. She quickly moved to take cover behind the guards. “Dala could give you all the sordid details of the recordings she made of all the special ways she paid your father, but you might be too young to know.”

  Spock regarded him in stunned silence.

  “I…I do not believe you.”

  “Ask me if I care,” Griffyn said. He aimed the disruptor at Spock and fired.

  Spock dropped to the stained metal decking with a clang.

  Griffyn tossed the disruptor back to his teenage guard. “Tell Kest and Strad to get out here.”

  The young guard ran aft, skirting around the remains of several unidentifiable machines that had been scavenged for parts. He returned in under a minute with two consular agents from the Vulcan Embassy who’d concealed themselves when Spock arrived.

  Griffyn studied the two agents. He’d been dealing with them for the year he’d been on Earth. And they behaved like Vulcans were supposed to. They betrayed no sign of what they thought or felt at seeing one of their own collapsed on the deck, unconscious.

  “Either of you know this guy?”

  “Spock, son of Sarek,” Kest said.

  “He said his father works at the embassy.”

  “That is correct,” Strad confirmed. “Sarek is the diplomatic attaché for scientific outreach and the development of unaligned worlds.”

  “And he’s the mark you set up.”

  “Correct. We knew discovery of our thefts would be inevitable. Therefore, we placed incriminating evidence in Sarek’s computer so that when an investigation began, he would be suspected.”

  Griffyn walked over to look down at Spock. “But Sarek’s kid found the evidence first.”

  “Apparently so.”

  “I told him that if he went public with what he found, I’d release some recordings that would ruin his father’s reputation.”

  The two Vulcans stared at him blankly.

  “The nature of the recordings?” Kest asked.

  Griffyn pointed his thumb at Dala. “Sarek and Dala, you know.”

  “Know what?” Strad asked.

  Sometimes Griffyn couldn’t get over how dense Vulcans were. “Sex. Vulcans do have sex, don’t they?”

  Strad looked at Kest, who nodded. “Yes,” Strad said.

  Griffyn could feel his neck getting red. He spelled it out for them. “So are sex recordings enough of a threat to keep the kid quiet about coming here?”

  The two agents looked at each other again as if in telepathic conversation. Kest was the first to speak. “It is unlikely Spock would believe you.”

  Griffyn rubbed his hands over his face. “That means I have to kill him.”

  “But,” Kest went on, “if you could manufacture an image that appeared to be from such a recording, it could take several days for Spock to confirm it is false.

  “Even then,” Strad said, “the possibility that fraudulent recordings of his father could be distributed on Earth would be enough to keep him from reporting what he has found to the authorities.”

  Griffyn stared at the two consular agents for a moment, trying to decide if their solution came out of logic or some buried emotional need to say anything that would stop him from killing Spock. But in the end, he decided, it didn’t matter.

  “Five more days and we’ll be finished here. If he talks after that, who cares. Can you get me some images of Sarek?”

  They both answered. “Yes.”

  �
��Will you make sure the kid sees them?”

  “Yes.” Both again.

  Griffyn gave Spock’s inert form a vicious kick, and felt no response. “Then get him outta here. Take his communicator and leave him on a corner somewhere. It’ll give him time to think on the long walk home.”

  As the two Vulcans lifted Spock to his feet, Griffyn’s own communicator chirped. He checked the identifier code on its small display.

  “This day just keeps getting better,” he said.

  Sam Kirk was calling.

  25

  “You’re sure you want to do this?” Sam asked.

  Kirk tapped his fingers on the passenger console of the rental car, and Sam knew his brother was thinking through the problem. That was another thing about him—you could actually see Jimmy stop and think things through. Most of the time, at least.

  “It’s not like I have a choice,” Kirk finally said. “There’s no way I can get anywhere near the Academy again. And I really need to get access to the maintenance computer logs at the Sloane Complex.” He gave a tired smile. “If this guy you know is as good as you say he is, then, okay, I want to do this.”

  Sam peered through the rental car’s windshield at the night rain, then checked the time. It was the 10:15 shower, scheduled to end at 10:30. The windshield’s repulser field wasn’t properly aligned, and a few raindrops hit the transparent aluminum, smearing the streetlights into streaks of hazy rainbow colors.

  “Okay,” Sam said. “But just so you know. This guy, he’s not just into computers.”

  “I don’t need to know that, Sam.”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  Kirk gave him a glance. “Is he some kind of crook?”

  “He’s not from Earth.” Sam knew that was all he had to say by way of explanation. It was widely accepted that Earth didn’t produce hard-core criminals these days. But there were a lot of other planets in this galaxy, and not all of them were as perfect as the homeworld of humanity.

  “Then he’s going to want something.”

  “He’d go for your override in a minute.”

  Kirk sighed. “That guy from Starfleet said they hadn’t found the staff car. You didn’t ditch it, did you.” The last was a statement, not a question.