Collision Course

by William Shatner

  Griffyn fired anyway, and the crimson beam slashed across the overhead, exploding lights and scorching the bulkhead in a sizzling arc until Kirk slammed Griffyn’s hand down so hard on the console that the pistol dropped to the floor.

  By now Griffyn had turned completely in his chair and he jumped up, trying to butt his head into Kirk’s face. But Kirk sidestepped and threw Griffyn over his shoulder, then leapt on top of him, wrapped his arms around his neck, and began to put pressure on his carotid artery to drive him into unconsciousness.

  “I think you’d better stop now,” Dala said.

  Kirk looked up even as Griffyn struggled beneath him, clawing at his arms.

  Dala was aiming the dropped laser pistol at Kirk. “Right now,” she said.

  “He killed Matthew!” Kirk told her.

  “I never liked him,” Dala said.

  “And his crew of kids. That boy, Bohrom!”

  “All damaged goods. The general saw to that.”

  Kirk didn’t know who the general was, had no time to ask. “You won’t shoot me.”

  “Yes, I will.”

  “No, you won’t. Because once I’ve taken care of Griffyn, you and I are in charge of this ship. We can go anywhere…do anything…”

  Kirk felt Griffyn go limp. He had kept Dala talking long enough for the chokehold to work.

  He stood up, but Dala didn’t change her aim. She licked a corner of her lip. “Aren’t you kind of young?”

  Kirk tried to look at her as if they were already alone in a honeymoon suite on Risa. He had heard the stories. “Some women would think that’s an advantage.”

  Dala pointed the gun away. “Just get me out of this system.”

  “I’ll do more than that,” Kirk promised with what he hoped was a seductive leer. Then he swept her up in his arms, and in the same movement, slapped the laser pistol from her hand, spun her around, and in less than ten seconds had her hands tied with her own equipment belt.

  He pushed her down into the command chair, told her not to move, scooped up the laser pistol just to be sure, and rushed to the helm to raise shields and block the Orions’ transporter before his fellow crewmates could be captured or killed.

  Fellow crewmates, Kirk thought. That didn’t sound so bad.

  In the Enterprise’s one working transporter room, a feedback alarm chimed.

  “Okay, now what?” Del Mar asked Spock.

  She was up on the platform, soaked in sweat from throwing crates and other transported cargo to the floor as quickly as Spock could beam it in.

  At the console, Spock checked the readings. “Griffyn’s ship has raised shields to maximum, which means they encompass the Enterprise as well.”

  Del Mar jumped down to join Spock. “So we can’t transport anything, but neither can the Orions! That’s great news, right?”

  “Apparently, the Orions do not share your opinion. They are powering up their weapons.”

  Zee and Naderi sat at the conn, staring at the tactical status display that showed the Orions locking weapons.

  “Are the shields from Griffyn’s ship going to help us?” Zee asked.

  “They won’t last more than a couple of salvos,” Naderi answered. He brought up more tactical displays. “We’ve got to have something we can fight back with. There’s—whoa!”

  “Whoa what?”

  “The phaser banks have recharged!”

  “By themselves?”

  “Must be an automated system. We’ve got at least two more shots!”

  “Better make ’em count.”

  Naderi frowned at Zee. “You think?”

  Kirk saw the flight deck’s tactical display light up. It was never intended for battle, but he could see the Orions were locking weapons.

  Over the comm link, a deep Orion voice spoke in short, clipped words, with a regular pause between each one.

  “Is that a countdown?” Kirk asked Dala.

  “I don’t know,” Dala said petulantly. “I don’t speak green.”

  Kirk put all the power the ship could generate into its shields. As the lights dimmed on the flight deck, he told himself it was the best he could do.

  But as always, he wished he could do more.

  Spock and Del Mar charged out of the turbolift onto the bridge.

  Zee turned to them while Naderi remained hunched over his console.

  “We’ve got phasers!” she said. “Two shots at least!”

  “And I am going to make them count.” Naderi held his finger over the weapons control.

  On the screen, Spock saw that the three Orion corsairs had aligned themselves so all their weapons pods pointed in the same direction—directly at the Enterprise.

  “Three…,” Naderi said. “Two…”

  The weapons pod on the center corsair suddenly flared in a silent explosion. Arcs of energy leapfrogged over its hull, sending geysers of venting gas into space at each contact point.

  Then the starboard corsair lost a propulsion nacelle to an even larger explosion. It spun, spewing vapor and sparks, to collide with the middle corsair. Just as both weapons pods on the port corsair blew up in a spectacular double explosion.

  “Fantastic shooting!” Zee said.

  “You’re an ace!” Del Mar exclaimed.

  But Naderi turned slowly from the helm, still holding up his finger. “It wasn’t me.”

  “Ah, of course,” Spock said. “It is the only logical explanation.”

  The three mids turned to him, Del Mar with her hands on her hips, and they waited.

  53

  There were ten Starfleet vessels in the emergency flotilla, including the newest Constitution-class starship, the U.S.S. Potemkin. The Potemkin had carried out the successful pinpoint attack on the Orion corsairs, disabling them without any loss of their crew.

  In the five hours it had taken the hobbled Enterprise to make her impulse-power voyage to Neptune, those ten other Starfleet ships had arrived at warp and secreted themselves among the planet’s moons and rings. There, with tractor beams, photon torpedoes, and fully charged phaser banks at the ready, they had waited to defend the Enterprise and the remarkable midshipmen and two recruits who had embarked on their foolhardy mission without ever once considering that they couldn’t possibly have enough knowledge or experience to complete it.

  The commander of the flotilla had allowed events to play out, in order to force all involved parties into the open. And it was safe to say that as much as the mids were surprised by the presence of Orion pirates in Earth’s home system, Starfleet personnel were shaken to their core. The incident was undeniable evidence that there was an unsuspected weak link in the Federation’s defenses. No effort would be spared to determine what it was and how it could be fixed.

  But for now, the immediate mission had been accomplished, and the flotilla’s flagship, carrying the commander, led the others back to Spacedock, all ten ships’ combined tractor beams safely conveying the Enterprise and the four captured enemy vessels.

  On the small, cramped bridge of the flagship—the battered science vessel, Endurance—Mallory watched the main screen where the Enterprise proudly flew.

  “See,” Mallory said as he sipped his mug of ginger tea, “as I promised, not a scratch.”

  Beside him, Captain Christopher Pike scowled. “At least on the outside.” Despite the successful completion of the mission, he was no happier now than when Mallory had told him his precious ship was being used as bait in a criminal investigation.

  “Now will you tell me why she was taken?”

  “Probably not,” Mallory said, though he softened his refusal with a smile.

  Pike wasn’t willing to let it go at that. “What if we had lost her? Are you certain the risk was worth that?”

  Mallory had already considered that question and had no doubt as to the answer.

  In his office safe, the Project Echion report waited for his decision. After what he had witnessed today, he knew he could approve it.

  “For that c
rew,” Mallory said, “yes. Even for the Enterprise.”

  Pike had a reputation for being driven, sometimes prone to dark moods. The possible loss of his ship, before he’d ever had a chance to command her, was obviously something that would haunt him for a long time to come.

  “For that crew,” Pike repeated. “Will you at least tell me who took it?”

  “Again, probably not.”

  Pike hated not knowing, and didn’t hide his frustration. “Why?”

  Mallory thought of Tarsus IV, and a teenage boy who might be killed if his identity were ever revealed and his true story told.

  “Because Starfleet made a promise,” Mallory said quietly.

  For Captain Pike, that simple explanation brought peace. His questions ended.

  But Mallory felt no such peace.

  There was still a promise he had yet to keep. One he had made to a master chief petty officer, to find his lost boy, and bring him back.

  54

  It was just a formality, they were told, but even with his newfound insight, Kirk was nervous sitting in the corridor outside the courtroom in Starfleet Headquarters. And he wasn’t alone.

  Beside him in the row of old-fashioned oak chairs sat Spock, and Midshipmen Finnegan, Naderi, and Del Mar. The mids were in dress uniforms with subdued metallic flashing. He and Spock were both in recruit whites—they hadn’t been in Starfleet long enough to earn the privilege of owning a dress uniform. Kirk, much to his surprise, felt regret at the thought that day might not be in his future.

  Kirk and his impromptu crew had been told they faced no charges, that this hearing was just to establish the events that had led to the unauthorized removal of Starfleet equipment from a Starfleet facility. Deciphering the euphemistic phrasing had not been difficult for anyone involved. The topic of discussion would be the theft of a Starfleet starship.

  Everyone had turned up on time. Everyone waited. And nobody talked to anybody else.

  Finally, about an hour after the proceedings had begun, the main doors to the courtroom opened once again.

  Two red-shirted security officers escorted Dala from the room. Her face had been scrubbed clean and she was in a loose-fitting yellow jumpsuit labeled PRISONER. Her hands were bound by induction cuffs. She did not look up as she was led away.

  The next out was Elissa, and although she was in her civilian clothes, she had no escort, which Kirk hoped was a good sign. He went up to her at once.

  “Did it go okay?” he asked.

  Elissa looked at him as if he was something on display in a museum. “All the charges have been dropped. The honor board records have been purged. I’ve been reinstated with a clean record.”

  Kirk tried to understand the reason for her disinterested attitude. “That’s fantastic. So why aren’t you happy?”

  “Do you know how much faster all of this could’ve been dealt with, how much easier it would’ve been, if we had just…just trusted the system?”

  “Isn’t that how you got separated in the first place?” Kirk asked.

  “The system works, Jim. But you didn’t let me give it a chance.”

  “Next time, I will.”

  “No more ‘next times,’ ” Elissa said. Then she walked off down the corridor. She did not look back.

  Kirk returned to his chair beside Spock and sat down heavily. “Any of your Vulcan logic have anything useful to say about women?”

  Spock remained noncommittal. “I could not help overhearing your conversation.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Elissa is right to distance herself from you.”

  “Et tu, Stretch?”

  “Gesundheit,” Spock said.

  Kirk grimaced. “Oh, we’ve really got to work on your sense of humor. I don’t think I can take two more years of this.”

  “Two more years of what?” Mallory asked.

  Kirk hadn’t heard the man approach and instantly jumped to attention. Why? He didn’t know. But there was something about Mallory that commanded respect, and as a Starfleet recruit, Kirk now had a way to express it.

  Spock stood beside him, equally attentive.

  “At ease, boys,” Mallory said. “Your testimony won’t be needed.”

  Kirk exchanged a puzzled glance with Spock, then they both looked down to Finnegan, Naderi, and Del Mar. A court clerk had just finished speaking to them, and they walked off together. They didn’t look back, either.

  “That’s it?” Kirk asked.

  “The records are sealed,” Mallory said. “And the events you participated in are classified. So you are ordered not to discuss them with anyone except with express written permission of Command.”

  Spock inclined his head, giving his assent. Kirk thought about it for a moment, then decided he had no argument with that.

  “We’re free to go?” he asked.

  Mallory did not reply for what seemed like a long time to Kirk. When he spoke, he did so in a serious manner. “Just so I’m certain you understand what’s been going on, you do realize that you were forced into enlisting in Starfleet?”

  Kirk and Spock both nodded.

  “And you understand that it wasn’t a fair sentence? Wasn’t even legal?”

  They nodded again.

  “So you’re under no obligation to continue your service.”

  “I would prefer to continue,” Spock said simply.

  As if he were watching himself in a dream, Kirk heard his voice say, “Yeah. Me too.”

  “Well, if that’s the case, and you really feel that way, I have another offer you might want to consider.”

  Spock looked at Kirk, then faced Mallory again. “I believe I speak for both of us. We are all ears,” he said with satisfaction.

  Kirk had positioned himself before one of the tall viewports in the 511 Lounge on Spacedock. He stared out at the Enterprise, safely back in her berth.

  “I don’t know if I feel comfortable with this,” he said.

  Mallory was beside him, his eyes also fixed on the magnificent craft. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I know what Elissa went through to get in. The extra courses she took to get her marks up. The letters she got from her Federation council rep. From her uncle in the service. She killed herself. Took every interview. Did everything she could to get in. And now…you’re just giving it to me.” He shot a sideways glance at Mallory. “It doesn’t seem fair.”

  “I could point out,” Mallory said, “that each year there are approximately eighty-five slots available for ‘special’ appointments. Most of them are for serving noncoms, but there are always a few people that we go out to get. Why can’t you accept that you’re one of those?”

  “It feels too easy.”

  Mallory laughed. “Well, I can promise you it won’t be that. You’re two weeks behind on prep courses already, so you’ll have to make them up on your own time. You’ll also have to take placement tests. And makeup classes will not be an option if you’re deficient in any subject. By the time the first exams roll around, you’ll be a walking stack of books or you’ll be gone. That I guarantee you.”

  Kirk watched as the workers in environmental suits flew around the Enterprise with thruster packs. “Sounds positively grim.”

  “I won’t kid you. It is.”

  So many thoughts raced through Kirk’s mind that he gave up even trying to make sense of them.

  Mallory broke the silence. “I have a question for you.”

  “Shoot,” Kirk said.

  “I watched the bridge recordings of what you did on the Enterprise.”

  Kirk steeled himself not to overreact to criticism, knowing he must have done more than one thing wrong by the book.

  “You spent five hours on the bridge before you got to Neptune. Another twenty minutes or so when you arrived. For all intents and purposes, you were the commanding officer, which made you the captain of the ship.”

  “Yeah…so what’s the question?” Kirk had no idea where this was going.


  “You never took the center chair, James. Why is that?”

  Kirk didn’t even have to think back to the journey. He knew exactly why he hadn’t sat in the captain’s chair.

  “That’s something you have to earn.”

  “Then accept my offer.”

  Kirk stared out the viewport at the Enterprise.

  55

  “It is called a special admissions appointment,” Spock said. “And I have accepted.”

  It was night in the meditation garden of the Vulcan compound, and the script of the Kir’Shara shone with a gentle green glow. The words of Surak were meant to calm the mind, but for this night, they were not effective.

  Sarek kept his attention on the artifact, as if he couldn’t bear to see his son while they argued. “Spock, the Vulcan Science Academy is—”

  “An institution I can attend at any time,” Spock interrupted. “Once I graduate from Starfleet Academy, there is no end to the advanced courses and degrees I can study for.”

  “Study, yes,” Sarek said. “But how can you attend the Science Academy when you are serving on a starship a thousand light-years from home?”

  “There are many ways to serve, Father. On a starship, yes. But there are also starbases. Research centers on dozens of worlds.”

  Sarek was dismissive—a shocking breach of familial relations that ratcheted the tension in the garden even higher.

  “It is illogical to delude yourself,” he said. “If you attend the Starfleet Academy, you will accept a posting to a ship. It is in your nature.”

  Spock felt threatened, under attack. He pulled his dark cloak more tightly around him, as if donning armor. “It is illogical of you to predict what I might or might not do four years from now.”

  Sarek turned from the artifact, took a step toward his son, disregarding his preference for maintaining a nonconfrontational distance. “There is a proposal before a Starfleet planning committee suggesting that a starship should be commissioned for an all-Vulcan crew. Would that satisfy your need for…for excitement?”