Captain's Peril

by William Shatner

  Aku cleared his throat tentatively. “You didn’t drown.”

  “Because Picard saved me when—” Like a flash of black lightning, Kirk’s dream crackled into his consciousness at once. Dark water and the shadows that moved within it.

  “Captain…?” Aku prompted.

  “There was…there was something in the water with us…something huge…” How had he forgotten that? Tendrils, dark, spiked, shadows moving, something grabbing his leg, grabbing onto Picard…?

  “It’s not uncommon for drowning men to have hallucinations,” Corrin said.

  Kirk felt disoriented, deeply upset by his failure to recall exactly what had happened until now. “What kind of large fish are in the Inland Sea? Or aquatic mammals?”

  “The largest are creatures similar to Earth’s eels,” Corrin said.

  Aku nodded. “We call them, sreen.”

  “In these waters, they grow to two meters, a bit longer. They find burrows among rocks and, especially, the foundations of the city out there.”

  “Can they drown a man?” Kirk asked. How could he have forgotten the presence of such a creature in the water last night, a creature which had attacked them both, which Picard had fought, and lost?

  “Unlikely,” Corrin said. “Sreen keep to their burrows. They will snap at any divers who come too close. That’s why we have the bolt guns, for exploring the structures underwater. But away from their burrows? They never attack then. And if they’re in open water, they can’t possibly prevent a swimmer from reaching the surface.”

  “Then what was down there, wasn’t a sreen,” Kirk said. “It was something larger.” The image of a squid came to him, but one with spiked tentacles.

  “So now you’re saying Captain Picard’s death wasn’t a murder?” Corrin asked. “It was an animal attack?”

  Kirk fought the urge to raise his voice at the man. What is wrong with me? Why am I losing my control?

  “The…the creature got Picard because…because we were forced into the water by whoever shot Sedge and the boat! No question it’s murder.”

  “Except,” Corrin said, “for the facts that no one saw the shot. And there is nothing living in the Inland Sea large enough to drown a man. And even you can’t clearly remember what happened.”

  Kirk tried to stand—he needed to do something physical to release the rage building within him. But his bandaged leg made every movement clumsy, robbed him of swift release.

  It was Aku Sale who stood up to take Kirk’s arm. And as the frail old man tried to steady him, Kirk realized with a shock that he was within a heartbeat of crying.

  “Captain…?” Aku politely inquired, “do you think you should rest?”

  Kirk didn’t even know how to answer that simple, obvious question. He was frozen by the unfamiliar: indecision.

  But as he struggled to find something to say, he saw Aku and Corrin look away from him, toward the sea.

  Kirk turned to follow their line of sight, saw the camp’s cook, Avden Lara, the hem of her heavy skirt sopping with water, frosted with sand, walking toward the table, an object in her hand, from which trailed a long, flat tube.

  An air hose, Kirk realized.

  The object was a Bajoran diving mask.

  The cook dropped the mask on the table, the air hose straightening itself out with the dying tremor of a stricken animal.

  “The bodies have washed ashore,” she said.

  Jean-Luc…

  Only Corrin’s strong arm saved Kirk from falling.

  But there was nothing to prevent his mind from reeling back to the story that, for Jean-Luc, would be forever unfinished.

  Chapter Nineteen

  U.S.S.ENTERPRISE NCC-1701, MANDYLION RIFT, STARDATE 1008.0

  “WHAT THE HELL happened to me?” Kirk asked.

  It was ten minutes after his conversation with Norinda, and he was still sweating. His throat was still dry. And his heart was actually fluttering in his chest.

  Dr. Piper examined the readings on his scanner, checked the diagnostic panel above the examination bed, and gave a laugh of amusement.

  “You want my medical opinion, you’re in love.”

  Kirk sat up on the edge of the bed. “Not funny, Doctor.”

  “All right. Not love. Lust. Your endocrine system is more fired up than a fifteen-year-old boy’s. Your hormone levels are so high, I could probably grind you up and sell you as an aphrodisiac to a Tellarite.”

  As glib as the doctor’s pronouncements were, Kirk felt unsettled by them. “How is this possible?”

  Piper went to his desk and switched on the small viewer there. “There’s a species called the Deltans. They reportedly have a similar effect on human men and women…but in their case, it’s a much more subdued attraction, and it is completely mediated by pheromones. You can’t be exposed to pheromones over a viewscreen.”

  Kirk pulled on his shirt, watched as Piper flashed through several screens of medical data.

  “You say everyone on the bridge was affected the same way?” Piper asked.

  Kirk nodded. “Except for Spock.”

  “Don’t be too sure,” Piper said. “Vulcans are probably the most passionate species in the galaxy.”

  Kirk stared at Piper.

  Piper shrugged. “You’ll find out,” he said enigmatically. Then he sighed. “I’m going to play back the conversation. Watch it on this.”

  Kirk stood by the doctor’s desk, watched as Norinda appeared in the small viewer. The playback presented only her half of the transmission, so Kirk was spared listening to his own, awkward responses. Nonresponses, for the most part.

  When it was over, Piper flicked off the viewer. “So how was it that time?”

  Kirk took a deep breath, felt more like himself. “She’s…beautiful…”

  “I can see that,” Piper said. “Unnaturally beautiful. Especially for an alien who technically should be subject to different evolutionary pressures.” He held a scanner up to Kirk. “Heart rate’s dropping. That playback didn’t have the same effect on you as when you saw it on the bridge?”

  Kirk shook his head.

  “Telepathy,” Piper said.

  “She was…controlling my mind?”

  “If she’d been able to do that, you wouldn’t be here. You probably wouldn’t even know anything had happened. No. I’d guess she was sending out—or her ship was sending out—extremely short wavelength EM signals that affected the limbic region of your brain, specifically the regions connected to…reproduction.”

  “She manipulated my brain?” Kirk asked, appalled by the concept.

  “Not your brain, Captain. Your emotional responses. Technically speaking, it’s no different than if she had given you an electric shock to raise your level of aggression, or given you a massage to make you relax. In her case, she just made herself damn sexy. And she did it at a distance.”

  “But I have to beam over to her ship,” Kirk said. “I have to…try to negotiate with her, to get the specs on her ship’s warp drive.”

  “Unless I’m mistaken, that is the mission Starfleet sent us on, isn’t it?”

  “Well, yes,” Kirk said. “But…isn’t there anything I can do to protect myself from…from whatever it is she’s doing…?”

  “Sure is,” Piper said briskly. “What I tell all the young cadets when they come aboard. Practice self-control.”

  Kirk glared at the doctor.

  “If you’ll excuse me, it seems I have a few other bridge personnel who need reassurance.”

  Piper walked to the doorway before Kirk could protest.

  “Next,” the doctor called.

  Hounslaw Tanaka entered, cheeks still flushed, a sheen of sweat covering his face. He saw Kirk, looked embarrassed. “Lieutenant Uhura, sir…she’s taken over on communications…just while…just while I’m here.”

  “That’s fine,” Kirk said. He looked at Piper, gave him an insincere smile. “Thanks for all your help, Doc.”

  Piper returned the smile and the in
sincerity. “Thanks for making my day so interesting.”

  Twenty minutes later, Kirk entered the transporter room, his hair still wet from the long cold shower he had forced himself to stand under.

  Spock was waiting for him.

  “Coming along for the ride?” Kirk asked.

  “Norinda has requested that only you beam aboard her vessel.”

  “Lucky me,” Kirk said. Then he remembered what Piper had said about Vulcans being passionate. “Tell the truth, Spock…did Norinda have any kind of effect on you?”

  Spock’s face remained blank, but he did shift his eyes to see what Mr. Kyle was doing at the transporter control console. “Permission to speak freely.”

  “Only if you promise never to ask that question again,” Kirk said.

  “It is true I was not immune.”

  Somehow, the admission made Kirk feel better. “Well, it didn’t show,” Kirk said.

  “Of course not,” Spock agreed maddeningly. “I am Vulcan.”

  Kyle came over to hand Kirk a communicator and phaser, but Kirk declined the weapon. “You have the coordinates?” Kirk asked the transporter tech.

  “Yes, sir,” he acknowledged.

  “Any more word on the Klingon?” Kirk asked Spock.

  “They still refuse to answer our hails. However, their shields remain at navigational strength only, and all weapons systems are off-line. As Mr. Scott put it, they are behaving themselves.”

  “Keep an eye on them for me.”

  But Spock wasn’t finished with him. “Captain, once again I register my objection to you undertaking this mission by yourself. It is an unnecessary risk by any measure.”

  “Except,” Kirk said, “Starfleet has ordered us to use any means short of force to obtain the secret of Norinda’s warp technology, and Norinda’s invitation has been extended only to me. Who am I to refuse an order?”

  Spock did not look convinced, but he put his hands behind his back. “Then I shall look forward to your safe return.”

  “You’ll look forward?” Kirk retorted. “How about me?” He stepped up onto the transporter platform, was just about to give Kyle the signal to energize, then the bo’s’n’s hail came over the intercom.

  “Captain Kirk to the bridge, please.” It was Uhura.

  Kirk stepped off the transporter platform, crossed over to the wall communicator, and activated it. “Kirk here.”

  But instead of Uhura it was Scott who began speaking.

  “Captain, I’m glad I got you before you beamed over t’ that creature’s ship.”

  “Creature, Mr. Scott?”

  “I’ve got some of the sensors working again, and…” It was clear the engineer was going to need some encouragement.

  “Out with it, Mr. Scott.”

  “We’ve picked up the orbital debris of two ships, sir. Andorian, and Orion. Both have been exposed to heavy doses of radiation.”

  Kirk was suddenly aware of Spock standing at his side. The science officer interrupted. “Mr. Scott, is that radiation consistent with the detonation of primitive fission devices?”

  “Aye, Mr. Spock. From the orbital tracks of the debris, I’d say the two ships actually had it out with atomic bombs, the way they might have done it a few hundred years ago.”

  “And both ships were destroyed by atomic blasts?”

  “Uh, well…” Scott’s voice hesitated.

  “Mr. Scott, I’m already late for my appointment,” Kirk said with a touch of impatience.

  “No, sir. They weren’t destroyed by atomic blasts. That’s the whole problem. I cannae tell what destroyed them. Only that they’ve been torn apart like nobody’s business.”

  While Spock hadn’t asked his captain to explain the colloquialisms he had used on the bridge, the Vulcan had no qualms about asking the chief engineer to explain himself. “Please define your terms, Mr. Scott.”

  “They’ve been pulverized, Mr. Spock. I’ve never seen anything like it. Most of the ships are just…well, reduced to little more than sand. No pieces of debris larger than a baby’s fist.”

  Spock and Kirk exchanged a look, but before Spock could voice any objection, Kirk toggled the intercom again. “Mr. Scott, is there any indication that the destruction of the two ships was caused by a Klingon weapon?”

  “No, sir,” Scott replied. “The only sign the Klingons have been up t’any mischief is the wreckage of the Andorian escape pod. That definitely was cut in two by a Klingon disruptor cannon.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Scott. Carry on.” Kirk switched off the communicator, turned to Spock. “In light of this new information, do you care to register your objections again?”

  Spock shook his head. “A weapon that can reduce starships to powder…that is precisely the type of technology one could expect to be used by a culture capable of constructing a warp-fifteen drive. Clearly, the benefits to the Federation and to Starfleet of obtaining such a device far outweighs your personal safety.”

  Kirk studied Spock carefully, taken aback by the Vulcan’s temerity. “In other words, Mr. Spock, on this mission, I am expendable?”

  “I do not understand why you seem surprised by my assessment,” Spock said. “From everything I have observed since you took command of the Enterprise, from everything we have discussed these past few days, I had assumed that you preferred to live with risk.”

  “I live with risk, Mr. Spock. But that doesn’t mean I prefer it.”

  Spock said nothing more, just as he had refused to continue the argument in the gym. Kirk understood that his science officer believed that once he had stated the logic of a situation, discussion was a waste of time. And as Kirk returned to the transporter pad, he realized Spock was right. There was nothing more to discuss.

  Whatever dangers were waiting for him on Norinda’s ship, he was eager to face them.

  No matter the price of that risk.

  Chapter Twenty

  BAJOR, STARDATE 55597.1

  THE SEA BIRDS were huddled in the lee of rocks and dunes, green and white feathers ruffled by the rain-filled wind.

  Without their cries and screeches, the flutter of their wings, the only sounds on the shore were the whisper hiss of the slow waves, and the crunch of wet soil beneath Kirk’s sandals as he limped closer to the sea and the body of his friend.

  Kirk progressed steadily, though slowly, being careful not to fight against the bandage that protected his damaged knee from unnecessary movement. But he fought against releasing the tears that dimmed his vision, tears he knew, in time, would demand release.

  The three Bajoran youths, Freen, Rann, and Exsin, stood like pallbearers at the water’s edge. Kirk could see a body stretched behind them. Nearby, an orange rebreather was haphazardly piled atop a twisted pile of buoyancy tubes, weight vests, and diving fins. A second rebreather lay on the ground, alone.

  Kirk limped on, each step closer harder to bear.

  He could see the second body now, beside the first. Furrows in the rain-soaked sand showed where the body had been dragged from the water. Kirk’s throat tightened. He’d seen too much death. Always feared the day that he would no longer be able to wall off his emotions in order to do his job. He wondered if that day had come.

  But the three young Bajoran archaeologists, who had come of age in a world without Cardassians and the daily threat of violent death, were leaning over the bodies, fascinated by the unfamiliar. Their unlined cheeks were blotched red against white; their dark hair was plastered to their foreheads, d’ja paghs dripping, nose ridges glistening.

  Kirk had no greeting for the young observers, walked closer, stopped.

  Two bodies, not three.

  “Is…?” Kirk couldn’t finish the question.

  Exsin shook his head. Rain droplets flew from the heavyset young man’s beard. “Only the divers.”

  Possibilities, Kirk thought wildly, then deliberately cleared his mind. He had lived long enough to know that not all dreams come true, and that, in time, all dreams must end.


  Picard was dead. No other possibilities were permitted. And the two brave men who had set out to save him had died in turn.

  “Any marks?” Kirk asked. He couldn’t lean down to check the bodies himself.

  “No, sir,” Exsin said.

  Kirk didn’t trust their inexpert eyes. “Check their legs for…for sucker marks, or abrasions.” For once, he was glad of his injured knee. He didn’t have the stomach for what he knew must be done.

  Rann Dalrys looked confused. “‘Sucker marks?’What are those?”

  “Don’t you have octopus on Bajor?” Kirk asked. The three youths looked at him blankly. “Squid? Aquatic animals with tentacles? The tentacles have suction-cup structures for holding prey.”

  “Rayl fish,” Freen said. “In the southern oceans.” He looked to his two comrades for support, and they nodded. “Six arms that move like snakes, but instead of suction grips, they have several rings of small, sharp teeth near the tip of each arm.”

  “And spikes?” Kirk asked.

  Freen nodded, making his d’ja pagh chime with the motion. “On the outer sides of their arms—their tentacles.” The young Bajoran appeared to like that English word. He made a fist. “They can grab with the small teeth on one side of a tentacle.” Freen opened his fist and swept his arm in a backhand stroke. “And attack with the spikes on the other side.”

  Kirk looked out to the rain-rippled surface of the Inland Sea. “Then there’s a rayl fish out there.”

  “Not in these waters,” Freen said, sounding apologetic.

  “What you described,” Kirk said, “that’s what attacked us last night.”

  The three young men exchanged another round of puzzled looks.

  “But…” Freen began uncertainly, “rayl fish…they don’t grow more than a meter in length. They don’t attack. Not people.”

  Kirk wasn’t in the mood for another argument. Two brave men had died. He pointed to the bodies. “Check their legs, their arms…look for any sign of a rayl fish bite.”

  Reluctantly, the young Bajorans knelt to inspect the bodies, struggling to tug off the divers ’thermal suits to search for wounds. As they did so, Kirk saw that both divers’ hands were open, an unusual position for a drowning victim, or—Kirk knew as a starship captain—for any death due to a violent struggle. And while Kirk wasn’t certain what the precise progression of post mortem changes was for Bajoran biochemistry, most humanoid species followed a general trend. In the case of the two divers, their arms and legs were not yet fully stiff with rigor mortis. Kirk knew the onset of rigor was dependent on the amount of adenonine triphosphate in muscle tissue, and that, in general, any frenzied physical struggle quickly exhausted ATP, resulting in a rapid stiffening of muscle tissue. If Trufor and Kresin had been human, both divers would already be rigid. That they weren’t, suggested they had not struggled. Kirk hated that he knew such things. Fate and long life were cruel teachers, he thought.