The Fearful Summons

by Denny Martin Flinn

  "I see what you mean. An interesting proposition, Sencus. I'll tell you what." Sulu brightened and raised his voice. "We'll find another plant for some R and R. I understand there's a sulfurous mud moon on the edge of the Beta Quadrant. Perhaps we could receive permission to—"

  But the officers on the bridge all groaned and went back to their stations before Sulu could finish his sentence. They left only Sulu and Sencus on the floor.

  "They do not like the idea, Captain," Sencus said, and, not for the first time, Sulu had to remind himself that irony was never a part of the Vulcan science officer's conversation.

  "I guess not," he said, shrugging. Then he turned back to the main viewscreen. "We'll just have to keep looking. Anyway"—he looked at the great dark field in front of him ablaze with stars—"we won't run out of possibilities."

  With the exit of the hostages, the little star yacht the Plush Princess seemed suddenly empty. The officers returned to their stations. Barbara waited for Kirk to give a command. When he didn't, she turned around. He was looking at the viewscreen, though nothing was on it but the gleaming Starship Excelsior in the infinity of the surrounding universe.

  "Home, Captain?" she prompted.

  "Hmmm? Oh. No. Not home. I don't think so."

  She looked puzzled.

  "To San Francisco, I think," Kirk said. "We started there.

  Ought to return this little yacht to its owner. You think he'll notice the giant holes in her side?" Everyone on the bridge chuckled. Barbara's fingers skidded over the console and the ship slid across the universe toward the planet Earth.

  Then Barbara turned around again. "Isn't San Francisco your home, Captain Kirk?" she said, puzzled.

  "No," he said quietly to her, though everyone on board heard him. "And Vulcan isn't Mr. Spock's, nor Africa Uhura's. Chekov isn't from Leningrad any longer, and Dr. McCoy has left the Earth's metropolises far behind. Scotty will go back to the Highlands, but they aren't his home. Space is our home, Barbara. Space. And when we're anywhere else, we're out of town."

  Barbara looked around at the crew, and they were all smiling at her.

  One Week Later

  In the Neutral Zone

  SAREK, flanked by his aides, sat down at the table in his customary place. They waited the usual quarter-hour beyond the appointed time, and then the door opened and Kannish and his team walked in.

  Sarek watched as Kannish squatted on the stool on the other side of the table. He bade him a pleasant good morning. Kannish grunted his usual salutation. Then, as was his custom, he slapped the table with his open hand and began forcefully.

  "We have decided to release the prisoners," Kannish said disarmingly. "In fact, they have already been transferred back to a Starfleet vessel. I hope this shows our good faith in the pursuance of a treaty with the Federation."

  Sarek's aides all smiled, but Sarek replied without hesitation.

  "The Federation sincerely appreciates your actions. That this misunderstanding has not been allowed to stand in the way of the momentum of our current negotiations is most gratifying. For our part I can assure you that the Federation seeks only peace and prosperity throughout the universe, and renounces any attempt to enter your star system uninvited. You have our sincerest apologies for any inconvenience the incursion of our Starfleet officers into your star space has caused."

  The two able negotiators went on to exchange mutual pledges of goodwill, then cautiously moved into areas of concern. Some four hours later, their positions had altered by a degree so imperceptible as to be understood only by the participants. Nevertheless, both left the table somewhat encouraged.

  When Sarek and his aides were seated in their shuttle after the long session, the young woman asked if, now that the hostages had been returned, their negotiations would come to an end.

  "Oh, no," Sarek said. "There is still a real treaty to hammer out. We need clearly defined boundaries, trading conditions, armament agreements. Pledges of mutual security. Eventually we'd like to see the Beta Prometheans send an observer to the Federation Council. Someday—if we can achieve assurances that the Beta Prometheans will respect all humanoid rights—they might even become full members."

  "How long do you think all that could take?" the young woman said.

  "That is hard to predict. Unlike the peoples of your Earth, many alien civilizations find it difficult to get along with one another. I have been working on a treaty with the Legarans for twenty-one years now, thought I hope my work will bear fruit soon."

  The two young aides looked at each other.

  Sarek smiled. "We must have patience," he said.

  San Francisco

  It was dark when Kirk walked alone through the heavy fog that blanketed his port city. He could feel the pull of authentic gravity. Or perhaps it was just the weight of his age. He saw the Flag and Grog in the distance, its yellow lantern burning off the fog in a tiny semicircle around the entrance. He had received an invitation to a private gathering via the press aide Marasco. Maybe a bit of Saurian brandy will cheer me up, he thought. But what he had really been thinking for most of the walk was, Will she be there?

  He hadn't seen her in a week. Not since the Plush Princess was returned to its owner and the crew stepped onto terra firma.

  Just as he was about to step up to the bar's door, she appeared out of the shadows.

  Her coat was turned up against the damp. Her hands were deep in its pockets. She was looking at him with a bemused expression. He stopped, and looked at her. He could feel his heart race at her beauty.

  "Hello, Jim," she said. "Can I buy you a drink?"

  "Barbara. It's good to see you." Silence hung between them like a black hole in the sky. Then Kirk broke it with the first thing that came to his mind. "I never got a chance to thank you for all your help. Or even to say goodbye."

  "I was embarrassed, I guess. I just went back to my quarters. You never called."

  "No. No, I didn't. I suppose because I didn't want to know."

  "What?"

  "Barbara. You didn't happen to have any old family friends in high places. You were working for Starfleet all along. You were a spy among us. Weren't you?"

  He waited for her to answer. She took her time.

  "Yes. It was an assignment. The Federation couldn't be involved, Starfleet couldn't mount a mission like that. But they knew you would try something. They asked me to go along with you."

  "I see. Well, you did your duty. Beautifully. And you're an excellent helmswoman. We couldn't have done it without you."

  "Then you're not mad?"

  "Mad? Of course not." Kirk stood in the fog and searched his own heart. "To tell the truth, I don't know what I am. It came as a bit of a shock that it was all a Starfleet assignment for you, that's all."

  "It was a great assignment."

  "Gee, thanks."

  "Jim. Would you believe me if I told you that what happened between us wasn't part of the assignment?"

  "No."

  "It wasn't."

  "Well, let's call it a bonus, then. For me, I mean."

  "Don't hate me."

  "Never. Hey, wait a minute. I'm the experienced old hand here, you're the cadet. You underestimate me. A girl in every solar system. Nobody breaks the commander's heart."

  "Not seeing you again is going to break mine."

  "Starfleet worried about what I'll do next?"

  "That's cruel."

  "Sorry."

  "Do you think," Barbara began, "we could start over?"

  Kirk hesitated for a long time. When I was younger, he thought, I would have said no out of sheer bravado.

  "Maybe," he finally said. Then he turned and led the way into the Flag and Grog.

  They climbed the stairs to the bar. It was noisy and crowded, as it had been the last time he had patronized the place. Cadets, officers, and aliens jammed the central room. This time Kirk walked past the long bar and turned into a narrow corridor in the corner. They passed under an archway with a sign overhead
that read THE WIDOW'S WALK. BANQUET FACILITIES.A neon sign was turned on just underneath it that flashed the notice CLOSED FOR PRIVATE PARTY.

  They climbed a steep flight of stairs and entered the private room. Kirk spotted the tall Mr. Spock first, talking with Admiral Caius Fesidas. There were other admirals and high-ranking officers there as well. Eventually he spotted Scotty, Bones, Uhura, and Chekov. He waved at each of them. Barbara disappeared toward some young officers. The press liaison Eugene Marasco came over to him.

  "Captain Kirk," he said. "Welcome. Welcome to a very unofficial function."

  "Marasco," Kirk said as he took a drink from a uniformed waiter. "I want to talk to you."

  "Of course."

  Kirk walked the man into a quiet corner of the party room, and lowered his voice.

  "Off the record, just how much did Starfleet know about … my little mission?"

  Marasco sipped from his drink.

  "Everything," he said simply.

  "Everything?" Kirk said, his eyebrows rising.

  "Everything. You were monitored from the moment you began gathering your old crew together."

  "But they didn't stop me?"

  "Of course not. Kirk, don't be naive. I know you've spent your entire life in deep space, but you can't be entirely innocent of down-to-earth politics. The Federation couldn't do anything officially without upsetting the delicate balance of power in that part of the universe. They couldn't give in to the pirates and they didn't want to risk an official invasion by Starfleet that could touch off an intergalactic war. And then there's the dilithium. Our Starships couldn't explore the universe without it, and the Beta Prometheans keep the market in good supply. As soon as you began nosing around—here and at headquarters—a secret, top-level team of admirals and science officers convened and studied your long record, and your psychological profile, and realized—as one of the committee members who knew you said—that you were not going to be the problem this time. You were going to be the solution."

  "I don't know whether I'm flattered or not."

  "I'm rather proud of the fact that I tipped off Starfleet to you, as a matter of fact."

  "You?"

  "When you sat down with the admiral and me. It occurred to me that your interest in the Excelsior had to be something more than idle. The next day I checked the records, and saw your length of service with the commander who was taken hostage. So I contacted—"

  "Wait a minute. You said 'the next day'?"

  "That's right. The day after the night we met here I reported your interest to—"

  "The next day. Then this committee didn't meet until then?"

  "That's right."

  "Then what happened later that night, it couldn't have been a setup?"

  "Later that night? What do you mean?"

  "Oh, uh, nothing. Tell me, how did Barbara O'Marla come to be a part of our mission?"

  "That was something of a coincidence. A couple of days later she came to Starfleet Security with the same suspicions. She said she knew you, and she was worried that if you went up there really on your own, it might be dangerous. She said she thought she could get you to take her along. The committee decided that planting someone among your crew would be ideal, a much easier way to keep track of you. So we gave her the assignment."

  "I see. But she came to you?"

  "Yes."

  "After the night you and I met downstairs."

  "That's right. Why?"

  "Oh, I just wanted to get the chronology straight in my mind."

  Marasco looked past Kirk and over at Barbara, who was chatting with several high-ranking officers. "This is going to be a pretty strong start for a young cadet's career," he said. Kirk followed his look and saw Barbara chatting with the other officers. He thought he saw a poise and assurance she hadn't evidenced when they first met. She was flushed with the confidence of someone who had a significant accomplishment behind her. He stepped on the urge to go over to her. Just as she looked up and saw him staring at her, the president of the Federation walked in, and a number of Starfleet admirals hurried to greet him.

  "Say, how did you know Barbara, by the way?" Marasco was saying to him.

  "Barbara? Oh, you know, just from … around," Kirk said. "I heard she was at the top of her class as a helmsperson. And with Sulu on his own Starship now, I figured we might need one."

  Elsewhere in the room, Mr. Spock was talking with a middle-aged senior officer from some department or other in the bowels of the Starfleet bureaucratic machinery.

  "The hull took a number of hits. The outer shell structure ought to be replaced entirely. At least two of the support pylons are collapsed. The shields need to be strengthened. One of the warp propulsion units is burnt beyond regeneration. The navigational systems were compromised when the electrical sensors were blasted, they probably need a good going-over by—"

  "Mr. Spock," the officer interrupted. "The Plush Princess isn't a Starfleet vessel. I can't procure the materials or the engineers to renovate a luxury yacht owned by a private and extremely wealthy businessman."

  Spock frowned. "I gave Thaylor my word the ship would be returned in excellent condition. I cannot go back on my word."

  "Thaylor loaned us the ship because he knew he could trust the reliability of Vulcans," Scotty said, joining them. "You'd be putting Mr. Spock in an awful light, and dinna forget his father is a member of the Council."

  "It's a strict regulation that private businessmen may not be approached to contribute to Starfleet operations," the officer protested. "There's too much room for special interests with private causes to affect policy."

  "And of course, if he had to be told the real reason for the mission, it would certainly get around. Thaylor is a man with friends in high places," Scotty finished.

  "All right, all right. I suppose I can have our engineering section do the work, and then hide the paperwork somehow."

  "That's right. You can call it Community Relations."

  "Yes, yes, I'll take care of it."

  "Thank you," Scotty said, then turned to Mr. Spock and winked. "Because I would nae want the good name of Montgomery Scott and Mr. Spock, holodocumentarians, to suffer!"

  Everyone took seats at a large table, and the dinner got under way. The president was seated at one end, the C in C at the other, and the admirals and two dozen officers and the crew of the Princess spread out in between. Kirk found himself sitting diagonally across from Barbara.

  There were speeches thanking the crew of the Enterprise for the "non-event." Kirk thanked Starfleet for its loyalty, but he was looking right at his old crewmates when he did it, and everyone knew what he meant. The Federation president got a good many laughs conferring an invisible "Citation for Bravery" on the six retired officers and one cadet, whose record of service during the ten days in question would read "on leave, whereabouts unknown."

  "There's one thing I'd like to know," Admiral Fesidas said to Kirk. "About those weapons you traded to the Beta Promethean pirates. Have you been in the habit of ignoring General Orders throughout your career?"

  There was a delicate silence at the table. Kirk smiled. "Absolutely not, Admiral. Didn't you hear? They were all water guns. I never actually intended to give them weapons, and the G.O. doesn't say anything about toys. Why, you know me. Everything by the book." The admiral smiled.

  The evening was well under way when Marasco asked Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott, who was sitting across from him, if this "non-event" had been their most difficult and dangerous mission.

  "Difficult?" Scotty thundered. "Dangerous? Why, laddie, let me tell you about the time we came across a huge, green hand in space. It grabbed the Enterprise and wouldn't let us go. Why, I thought we would have to stay on Pollux IV forever. Dangerous? You haven't heard anything yet …"

  The dinner lasted long into the night. By the time Phylosian cognac and Cobanian cigars were passed around, a great many years had gone by in Scotty's stories, and old friends had laughed and cried over old time
s, amusing, and amazing, the younger officers present.

  Kirk had been quiet. Finally he stood up.

  "I'd like to propose a toast," he said finally, raising his glass. "To absent friends. To Captain Sulu, somewhere on the frontier."

  "To Captain Sulu," his crewmates shouted.

  "And to young Spiros Focus, of the Excelsior, who gave his life for Starfleet," Kirk said. "To fallen comrades."

  "To fallen comrades," the officers all echoed. They drank in silence.

  Finally the C in C stood up. He had been listening quietly most of the evening.

  "To all the men and women of Starfleet, past, present, and still to come, who have demonstrated a loyalty unmatched in the history of human endeavor. A loyalty to the science of exploration, to the cause of peace, and to the Federation. And to Starfleet itself."

  "To Starfleet," the officers shouted, and everyone drank.

  "But most of all," he went on, "to the men and women of the Starship Enterprise—excuse me, of the Plush Princess"—everyone laughed—"who have demonstrated the greatest loyalty of all. Semper Fidelis." He raised his glass.

  Everyone raised their glasses, and Kirk, Scotty, Bones, Chekov, Uhura, and Spock toasted their neighbors with due humility, and secret pride.

  Most of the officers were still enjoying each other's camaraderie when the spaceport beyond their window began to twinkle with the early-morning dawn. Kirk looked out and saw the gleaming white skins of the shuttlecrafts. He looked up at the lightening sky, and imagined the great Starships that waited in spacedock for their crews to take them to still uncharted quadrants of the universe. He wondered if he would be privileged to captain one again.

  With the dawn the party began to break up. The old friends found themselves the last to leave. Finally McCoy walked over to Kirk.

  "Bones? Back to ordinary patients?" Kirk said.

  "Not me. Not exciting enough. As long as the treaty is holding, I thought I would open a practice devoted to Klingons. I'll get to explore those ridiculous physiognomies. I'll wear my disguise to make them feel comfortable." Everyone laughed.