Captain's Peril

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Captain's Peril Page 15

by William Shatner


  Captain Picard, an honor, sir. The professor has taken great pleasure in telling me of your work with Dr. Galen. We have all been looking forward to your arrival.”

  Before Picard could say anything in return, the well-dressed man had turned his attention to Kirk.

  “And that, I believe, must be your doing, sir. Captain Kirk, Sedge Nirra.”

  Kirk shook the man’s hand, then said to Picard, “Lokim Sedge is a local businessman. He’s helping fund this dig, and I arranged our visit here with his office.”

  Picard was impressed, if a bit confused. The title, “lokim,” was an honorific given to community leaders in the agrarian regions of Bajor. Its original sense had overtones of Earth’s feudal landowners. Though the quasifeudal system of landownership on Bajor had long been extinct, the title remained, given now in appreciation for good works and service, rather than in fear.

  Sedge appeared to sense Picard’s confusion. “You have a question?”

  Picard wouldn’t have mentioned it, but since the man had asked…“When Jim told me about joining this dig, I, of course, looked into it. And it appeared it was wholly funded by the Institute for the Revelations.”

  Sedge laughed. “You’re very thorough, Captain. And you’re correct. This dig does fall under the auspices of the Institute. But my businesses provided the funds for this dig directly to the Institute. As you know, these days the provisional government has more pressing matters to command the public purse.”

  “Of course,” Picard agreed. He very much wanted to know what kind of businesses Sedge Nirra operated, but he decided Kirk would likely have that information.

  “Let me introduce the others,” Sedge announced, then quickly presented the rest of the party in a flurry of greetings.

  As Picard had presumed, the two younger men with military bearing had, indeed, served in the Resistance, and then in the Lharassa Provincial Defense Group. They were brothers, Arl Trufor and Kresin, now civilians. Though they had no archaeological training, they had been hired as the dig’s dive masters, to operate the boats, the dive platform, and the diving equipment.

  Picard had also been correct about the monk—he was a prylar, also from Lharassa. He was present both as an archaeologist and linguist, but, more important, as a religious advisor. Should any artifacts be uncovered relating to the Temple or the Prophets, Prylar Tam would perform the required ceremonies prior to their being removed.

  Of the other archaeologists, Picard was unfamiliar with the three men. Exsin Morr, Rann Dalrys, and Freen Ulfreen were part of the new generation of Bajoran scholars. All young enough that they had not been called to arms for the Resistance, and then had been among the first group of students of Bajor’s renaissance to complete their education in peacetime. But Picard made a mental note to seek out Exsin over the next few days. As a student, the heavyset young man with the glossy black beard had spent a midterm semester at the ongoing excavation at B’hala, and while there had met Ben Sisko.

  Sedge at last came to introduce Dr. Rowhn I’deer, the stern woman who had walked apart from the others when they had arrived at camp. Picard could instantly recognize in her the type of academic who resented any intrusion into her work, even to the point of being forced to speak to someone who was not connected to her present research.

  “Dr. Rowhn,” Sedge began, “Captain Picard, author of many monographs of great importance to the field. Starfleet’s gain is archaeology’s loss.”

  Picard held out his hand but Rowhn crossed her arms and glared up at him, fully a head shorter, though of about the same mass.

  “You’re not welcome here.”

  Picard looked blankly at his hand, then slowly brought it back to his side, searching for just the right diplomatic phrase to cover the moment.

  But Sedge spoke first. “I’m afraid Dr. Rowhn has yet to appreciate the benefit of keeping archaeology connected to the outside world, specifically to—” He nodded at Picard “—the amateur specialist, and—” He touched a hand to his chest “—the avaricious businessman who hopes to have his ventures bask in the reflected glory of the doctor’s work.”

  Rowhn made a face of disgust. “Sedge, I’ll take your latinum any day to keep the Institute in business.” She jabbed an angry finger at Picard. “But slowing us down by bringing in spoiled offworlders to ask ridiculous questions and steal artifacts as souvenirs…” She clutched the chain of her d’ja pagh as if trying to draw strength from it. “The Prophets weep.”

  Picard tried to frame a general apology but Sedge spoke first—with considerable and uncalled-for sharpness, Picard thought. “I’deer, before you run off into the desert to scourge yourself, bear in mind that you’ve just insulted the ‘spoiled offworlder’ who risked his life and his career to confirm Richard Galen’s theory of the progenitor race, responsible for seeding the galaxy with—”

  But Rowhn didn’t let him finish. “I have better things to do than stand here and listen to secular blasphemy. The Prophets breathed life into Bajor. I don’t care where offworlders come from, and neither should you.”

  Sedge spoke through clenched teeth. “You are being insufferably rude to—”

  “And you are forgetting we just spent four blasted hours in the sun singing poor Artir to the Temple!” Rowhn turned from Sedge to fix her angry gaze on Picard and Kirk. “You want to do something useful for us backward natives on this primitive world? Use your star-vessels to track down the man who killed Nilan Artir and then blast him into the Fire Pits with the others of his kind!”

  Picard at last saw a way to join the one-sided conversation. “Do you know who his killer is?” he asked.

  “Corrin Tal,” Rowhn hissed. Then she turned and stalked off between two tents, quickly passing from sight.

  The other members of the camp remained silent in the wake of Rowhn’s outburst. Sedge stepped closer to Picard and Kirk, whispered to them in explanation. “This has been a difficult day for her. She and Professor Nilan…well, she cared for him deeply.”

  Picard thought that was obvious. But Kirk wasn’t interested in discussing Dr. Rowhn’s emotional state.

  “She said that Corrin killed Professor Nilan?”

  “That’s what she believes,” Sedge confirmed. Picard could see that the businessman wanted to understand the reason for Kirk’s question. “Do you know Corrin?”

  “He saved our lives today,” Kirk said.

  “We missed our landing zone,” Picard explained. “Corrin found us in the desert.”

  “But he told us that he was looking for the murderer,” Kirk continued.

  Sedge looked apologetic. Behind him, the other members of the camp were breaking up into smaller groups and heading elsewhere in the camp. “There is no murderer,” Sedge said quietly. “Professor Nilan’s death was an accident, nothing more.”

  “Then how do you account for every piece of communication gear being destroyed?” Kirk asked.

  Sedge gave Kirk a tired smile. “I think we should talk,” the businessman said, and he led them to the sea.

  Chapter Fifteen

  U.S.S.ENTERPRISE NCC-1701, MANDYLION RIFT, STARDATE 1007.8

  LONG AFTER THE Enterprise had passed the slowly spinning, glittering debris cloud of the Tholian vessel, Kirk remained on the bridge, the image of that destruction haunting his thoughts.

  In the gym, he had reminded Spock that should the Enterprise ever be destroyed, another ship would replace her. That was the cold, hard equation of their place in Starfleet’s ongoing operations and the Federation’s fifty-year master plan for galactic exploration.

  But still…an entire ship, an entire crew, snuffed out in an instant.

  And he was in a position to make a mistake that might very well result in the destruction of his own vessel and crew.

  That’s what it meant to be a starship captain, he was beginning to understand. Not just taking risks, but forcing others to take them, too.

  Kirk heard an odd computer tone from Spock’s science station, glanced over fro
m his center chair.

  Spock was already standing to look into his holographic viewer. “Fascinating,” he said.

  Kirk looked at the viewscreen. The white dwarf star at the center of the Mandylion Rift, even enhanced by the viewscreen’s light amplification subroutines, was a barely perceptible glowing red ember against the distant wall of gas that was the interior shell of the rift cloud. The Enterprise was traveling at three-quarter impulse, so slowly that the image on the screen did not appear to change except hour by hour. Against that static vista, Kirk saw nothing unusual ahead.

  “What’s fascinating?” he asked.

  “That tone we heard,” Spock said. “It was the computer alerting us to an alpha-radiation burst, consistent with a…” He paused, as if searching for a rarely used term. “…an atomic explosion, I believe they were called on Earth.”

  Kirk knew his history. “A thermonuclear weapon?”

  “According to our electromagnetic sensors, more primitive than that. A fission detonation, not fusion.”

  Kirk wasn’t certain what to make of that distinction, and obviously, neither was Spock. The last time fusion weapons had been used in recent history was during the Romulan War, almost a century earlier. And Kirk couldn’t think of a single use of fission weapons in space warfare, though he seemed to remember the Klingons had employed them early in their initial colonization period.

  Kirk stepped up to join Spock at his station, made a suggestion. “I recall from my astrophysics courses that the surface of a white dwarf star can give rise to thermonuclear reactions.” Actually, other than Carol Marcus, that was about the only thing Kirk could recall from his astrophysics courses.

  “Again, Captain,” Spock corrected Kirk, “the computer has detected a fission spectrum, not fusion.” The computer tone sounded again. “And there is another.” Spock checked his viewer, then added, “Additionally, the reactions are not occurring near the dwarf star. They are originating within the orbital space of the fifth planet.”

  There was only one other possibility Kirk could see. “Are they weapons detonations?”

  “That would be the logical conclusion.”

  Kirk stared at Spock’s science displays, analyzing the spectrums for himself. “A ship with warp capability beyond our conception, using primitive atomic weapons. Where’s the logic in that?”

  Before Spock could answer, the computer alert tone sounded twice more. Spock checked his viewer. “Multiple detonations now.”

  “Suggestions?” Kirk prompted. “Conclusions? New formulations?”

  “I do not believe that we should assume the fission weapons are being deployed by the advanced ship,” Spock replied simply.

  Kirk had no intention of beginning another debate, either. “So if it’s not the advanced ship/object/whatever you want to call it, then is it the Andorians?”

  “They are not known to carry fission weapons, but that is a more likely possibility.”

  “But how likely?” Kirk asked. “The Andorians have an eighteen-hour lead on us. Do you think it’s possible they made contact with the alien ship and that…they’re actually attacking it?”

  “The Andorian vessel is a corsair, captain. It is likely not constrained by any orders to refrain from using force to obtain the ship’s warp technology.”

  Kirk looked ahead at the viewscreen, desperately wishing the subspace sensors were already repaired so they could see what was happening in orbit of the fifth planet. Limited to only optical sensors, it would be at least another hour before the Enterprise’s scanners would be able to resolve enough detail to create useable images obtained only from reflected light. And even then, the sensors would only be detecting light that was already an hour old.

  “You’d think a ship that could travel at warp fifteen would have shields that could resist an atomic explosion.” Kirk doubted even the Enterprise could be harmed by one unless it went off within a few hundred meters with all shields down.

  “We will know within three hours,” Spock said. “That is our estimated time of arrival at the fifth planet.”

  Kirk sighed with frustration, thinking that this is what it must have been like in the early days of space exploration, when even the planets within Earth’s solar system took days to reach. How had anything ever been accomplished under those conditions?

  “Well,” he said, “with any luck, the Andorians will still be attacking in three hours, and we can ride to the rescue.”

  Spock looked at Kirk. “Ride?”

  “We’ll be the cavalry, Spock. Coming over the hill at the last second.” He smiled at Spock’s blank expression, knowing it meant his science officer had no idea what he meant. So far, Kirk decided, the score was tied, zero to zero.

  Another computer tone sounded, slightly different from the others.

  “What’s that one?” Kirk asked. “A gunpowder detonation?”

  Then the bridge shook violently and as Kirk fought to keep his balance he heard the structural-integrity field generators surge with emergency power. On the viewscreen, for just an instant, he caught sight of a sharp line of interference slicing across the textures and colors of the distant gas cloud.

  “What the hell was that?” Kirk demanded as he moved quickly back to his command chair and damage reports flooded the bridge.

  “Without full sensors, I cannot be certain,” Spock said from his station, all his attention focused on his viewer. “However, from what little information I can correlate, it appears we have just encountered a subspace wake.”

  “Subspace? From what?”

  As his science officer adjusted controls, Kirk watched the main viewscreen flicker, then begin to play back what had appeared on it a few seconds earlier, when Kirk had glimpsed the line of distortion.

  “I am attempting to rebuild an optical image from widely scattered photons,” Spock informed Kirk.

  On the screen, as Spock manipulated what the scanners had recorded, the colors of the gas cloud faded and the line of distortion became shorter, wider, gaining detail until Kirk had seen enough to realize what the final image would show.

  “I know that silhouette. It’s a Klingon battlecruiser,” Kirk said.

  “Indeed…traveling at warp two, on course for planet five.” Spock looked up from his viewer to gaze blandly at Kirk. “It appears the Klingons will now be riding over the hill, Captain.”

  Kirk leaned forward in his chair, clenching one fist to keep his frustration under control. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” He stabbed a finger at the communicator on the arm of his chair. “Bridge to engineering. I want warp factor four right away.”

  Mr. Scott answered almost at once. “I can give it t’ye, Captain. But isn’t it risky to go to warp without subspace sensors?”

  It was, Kirk knew. But there was another factor fueling his decision.

  If the Klingon can take that risk, then so can I.

  “I THINK THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE,” Sulu said as he looked past Kirk at the viewscreen.

  “Better change your definition of the term, then,” Kirk replied. “Because what we’re seeing is what’s there.”

  On the viewscreen: Mandylion V, only a few minutes before the Enterprise would be close enough to achieve orbit. By all rights, it should have been little more than a nova-scorched ball of half-melted rock, with an atmosphere little different from the hard vacuum of interstellar space.

  But there were bands of clouds circling its equator, and near the poles, Kirk could see additional concentrations of thick storm systems, flickering with sudden flashes from interior lightning.

  “What do you think, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asked.

  “I agree with Mr. Sulu. A planet with an atmosphere, this close to a nova, after only fifty-thousand years have passed, does not correspond to any known pattern of planetary evolution.”

  Kirk wasn’t as troubled by the planet’s odd characteristics as were his two scientists. He liked the unknown. He liked discovering things no one had discovered before. “That’s wh
y we’re out here, gentlemen. To find new patterns. Expand our horizons.”

  Sulu nodded glumly. “And throw out three centuries’ worth of data on stellar evolution.”

  Kirk laughed. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  “Right now,” Sulu said, “I think I left it on Argileus.” He nodded at Kirk. “Permission to return to my lab, sir.”

  Kirk gave his agreement and Sulu jumped up the three stairs to the upper deck, and hurried into the turbolift.

  “How about you, Spock?” Kirk asked. “Any other place you’d rather be?”

  “At the moment, no.”

  “Helm,” Kirk asked, “any sign of that Klingon?”

  Lieutenant Kelso didn’t take his eyes off his board. “He’s around here someplace, sir. I’m picking up warp trails all over the place. Just can’t pin one down yet.”

  Spock turned to Kirk from his station. “Captain, it is possible that the nature of the advanced technology drive that brought the…alien ship to this region, is in part responsible for the difficulty we’re having making readings.”

  Kirk wasn’t interested in excuses, but he knew why Spock had made one. He was letting Kirk know that Kelso’s inability to track a Klingon battle cruiser wasn’t the young man’s fault.

  “Understood, Mr. Spock. Thank you for pointing that out.” Spock might not play fair when it came to dealing with his captain, Kirk decided, but he looked out for the crew, and Kirk approved.

  “How about any sign of those fission explosions?” Kirk asked.

  “Again, difficult to track without full sensors,” Spock said. “Unless the explosion hit an appreciable target and created debris. Otherwise, based on the strength of the explosions we monitored, all we can search for is a vaporized cloud of stripped, subatomic particles left over from a device with a mass no more than two hundred kilos. There will not be much left.”

 

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