Captain's Peril

by William Shatner

  Lara stood up to refill Kirk’s glass of tea, then poured one for herself. She sat down across from him again. She leaned forward.

  “Five brothers,” she said, and Kirk detected the practiced cadence of a parent who had told this story many times. “Each faced with a choice. Four were punished, one rewarded, because that is the will of the Prophets.”

  Kirk almost felt as if he should recite a response, as if taking part in a ceremony. Then Lara said, “At that, you are to say, ‘The will of the Prophets is just.’”

  “Even if I am not of Bajor?” Kirk asked politely.

  “Whether you are or you aren’t has no effect on the truth. The will of the Prophets is just.”

  Kirk accepted that, gave the required response.

  Then Lara related the same story that Sedge Nirra had told to Kirk and Picard, though in more formal language, and with greater detail.

  And one of those details was telling.

  Not only was the fifth brother welcomed into the Temple with the spoiled Orb he had retrieved, the brother who had stolen it—B’ath b’Etel—was punished in a manner even harsher than that which Sedge had described to Kirk.

  The small dim star that Sedge had said was B’ath b’Etel, was, instead, the glowing ember left by his long fall from the heavens. His final resting place lay in the deepest oceans of Bajor, forever cut off from the light of the Temple and the eyes of the Prophets.

  “Do you have stories like that on Vulcan?” Lara asked when she had finished.

  “Actually, I’m from Earth,” Kirk said, mulling over what Lara had just told him. That in Bajoran folklore—or Bajoran religious teachings—the marine creature he had seen, the creature which had attacked him and dragged Picard to his death, was apparently B’ath b’Etel himself. And that, somehow, Lara believed that this creature could save her child.

  Lara shrugged as if there was little difference between the two worlds, all offworlders being the same to her. “But do you have stories like ours?”

  “Many,” Kirk said. “The details are different, depending on the culture. But the lessons they teach, they’re very similar. On Earth, and on Bajor.”

  Lara gazed at him thoughtfully. “Without the Prophets to guide you, I don’t know how that can be. But I will not doubt you.”

  “The others…” Kirk said, “Freen, Exsin, Rann, they say that nothing the size of B’ath b’Etel lives in the Inland Sea.”

  “They’re afraid.”

  “Of what?” Kirk asked.

  Lara pushed her glass of tea away. “The truth,” she said solemnly. “If they admitted B’ath b’Etel was real, then they would have to admit that the story of his fall was true, as well. Which means the Orbs are real, the Prophets are real, and the Temple is real. And then they would realize how empty their lives are, and how much work they must do to regain the grace of the Prophets.”

  At last Kirk thought he saw the whole story, at least as far as Lara was concerned. “Professor Nilan, he didn’t believe in the Prophets, did he?”

  Lara spoke disapprovingly. “He called them ‘wormhole aliens.’”

  “And he didn’t believe in B’ath b’Etel.”

  “‘Aquatic animals of that size could not be supported within the restricted habitats of the Inland Sea.’”

  Kirk realized she was quoting what Nilan had told her. “What exactly did you want from him?”

  “A chance,” Lara said simply. “Only a chance to see if my daughter could be redeemed.”

  Kirk stated the only conclusion that seemed logical to him. “You wanted the divers to look for B’ath b’Etel.”

  “Look for him, find him, and kill him,” Lara said.

  Kirk blinked at her.

  “It is the only way to obtain the pagh r’tel. The animal’s life force. In that is the B’ath rayl.”

  “Which can cure…redeem your daughter?”

  “If the Prophets allow.”

  Kirk was overcome with the sudden sense that Lara was lying to him.

  “Lara, how is it that Professor Nilan would refuse you permission to hunt a creature which he believed did not exist?”

  Lara’s voice was unforgiving. “That is why I am not sorry he is dead. He was a spiteful man. He had no reason to deny me my request. Especially after…” She stopped, as if reconsidering what she was about to say.

  But Kirk had no time for secrets. “After what?”

  “I led him to this place. Bar’trila.”

  The revelation startled Kirk. “How did you know where Bar’trila was?”

  Lara’s beatific smile was somehow shocking. “The Prophets came to me, James Kirk. The Prophets told me everything.”

  And Kirk remembered where he had seen a smile like that before.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  REL VESSEL, MANDYLION RIFT, STARDATE 1008.1

  AS THE TRANSPORTER EFFECT FADED, the room that took form around Kirk was filled with a hundred shades of green, and his first breath brought with it the rich perfume of a jungle in flower, lush plants, sparkling rivers.

  He looked ahead, saw a luminescent wall of interwoven clusters of exquisite scarlet and saffron flowers, and the only reason he didn’t think he was on some Edenlike world was that a few dozen meters beyond the vegetation, a soaring, curved, transparent wall swept overhead to show the stars, and the Enterprise, hanging only a kilometer distant.

  Kirk felt almost wounded by the unbearable loveliness of the vista.

  Then he felt two hands slide lightly over his shoulders from behind.

  He turned with a start and before he could speak, Norinda’s lips joined his, as if tasting him and being tasted in return.

  She moved against him, one soft, smooth hand to his neck, pulling him closer, as if in another few seconds they would merge in an act of love no human had ever known before.

  And then, as if getting his attention was all she had desired, she withdrew, hands folded demurely before her.

  Kirk had to remind himself to breathe.

  His host was swathed in a diaphanous wrap that glowed with the colors of the jungle-flower wall; intoxicatingly, the slip of fabric left bands of her smooth and golden skin uncovered.

  Her low laugh was provocative, intimate, as if they already shared a secret only the two of them would ever know.

  Her dark hair, lustrous, flowing, was like a windswept shadow.

  “Do you want to play?” she asked.

  That wasn’t the word Kirk had in mind. It would be so easy, he knew, to just rush forward and take her in his arms and recapture that maddening moment she had promised and then—

  —taken from him.

  But he forced himself to look away, to break the electric contact of her dark eyes, sparkling, literally sparkling as if stars or jewels were caught within her.

  He took a steadying breath, mentally repeating what Piper had told him.

  Telepathy…limbic region…manipulation…

  And as he struggled to control himself, caught, just from the corner of his eye, a gleam of something else bright—in the dark of space.

  The Enterprise. His ship.

  Illuminated by her running lights, still floating beyond the vast transparent wall.

  It was enough.

  Kirk turned back to the beauty before him. Her red lips, full and parted. He could almost sense the sweetness of her breath, the rich warmth of it, the way it would feel as she whispered in his—

  “No,” Kirk said aloud. “I’m James T. Kirk.” Even now he felt as if he were forcing himself to walk across burning coals, the effort was that great. “Captain of the—”

  “U.S.S. Enterprise.” They named the ship together, their voices joined like a choir. Joined as if—Kirk shook his head to clear it.

  “You are Norinda.”

  “I am whoever, whatever, you wish me to be.”

  Kirk made himself look back to the Enterprise, his ship, his home, his dream, and like Antaeus drawing strength from his mother Earth, he turned to face Norinda wit
h new resolve.

  “Are you the captain of this ship?”

  She pouted, lips glistening, wanting, needing, demanding to be kissed. “Do you want me to be?”

  But Kirk was commander of himself again. He wished Spock were present to witness—no, experience—this phenomenon. It would be most interesting to see how Vulcan logic held up to whatever primal communication was being attempted here.

  “Norinda, who is the commander of your ship?”

  She turned slightly, tilting her head, letting her hand move slowly, suggestively over the sheer fabric that bound her. “Would you like to be commander?”

  Kirk’s interest flared, though he was careful to keep it in check. “Is that possible?”

  She nodded like a child, slowly, emphatically. “We have to give the ship to someone. Someone…who can take care of it. And of us.”

  Kirk rapidly tried to process all the possibilities that her response brought to life.

  “Are there more of you? Your people? On this ship?”

  “Many,” Norinda said. “We’ve been here so long. And we don’t know how to…”

  “How to what?” Kirk asked.

  “How to anything,” Norinda answered. She stepped forward, arms outstretched, but stopped when she saw Kirk move back. “We…we’re alone. We had to leave. To run. To escape.”

  “Escape from what?”

  Norinda shrugged, and Kirk suddenly realized from her mannerisms, from her words, that despite her appearance, she was only a child.

  “From everything,” she finally said. “From…the Totality.”

  And what’s a child doing in a ship like this? Kirk asked himself wonderingly. Unless…

  “Norinda…is this your ship? Or did you, and the others, take it?”

  She nodded again, a child confirming the biggest secret in the world. “We had to. It was the only way to escape.”

  “To escape the Totality?”

  More nodding.

  “Is this their ship?”

  “Not their ship. Its ship.”

  “The Totality’s ship?”

  “The enemy.”

  Kirk was beginning to piece it together. Knew what he had to do, to offer.

  “Norinda…if I take care of you, and the others. If I protect you from the Totality and keep you safe, will you give this ship to me?”

  Norinda smiled with delight and Kirk felt as if the sun had risen on a new universe only he could see.

  “Yes, Captain Kirk! Oh, yes, Captain Kirk! Oh, yes!” She fell to her knees before him, bowed her head. “Protect us. Save us. And this ship will be yours. All that you want and desire will be yours.” She gazed up at him with longing. “I will be yours.”

  Kirk felt his heart actually skip a beat. Saw himself sinking to his knees with her. Embracing her. Never leaving her.

  But Norinda was indeed a child. And this was not true emotion. No matter how incredible and how powerful it felt.

  “That’s not necessary.” He reached down to her, took her hand. “Get up. Please get up.”

  She rose then, gracefully, pulling his hand to her as she pressed against him once again.

  Kirk let go of her hand, regretfully, but without hesitation.

  “So…it’s agreed? This ship is mine in exchange for my promise of protection?”

  “Yes, Captain Kirk,” Norinda said, and there was a tinge of sadness in her, as if she realized that Kirk would not give in to her. “This ship is yours, if you protect us.”

  Kirk sighed, then brightened. A warp-fifteen-capable starship! He decided that the Federation Council would have to create a new medal especially for him. No power in the quadrant would be able to match the Federation’s expansion in the years ahead.

  Norinda put a finger to the side of her mouth, looked up at Kirk with her inviting eyes. “And if you are the best.”

  Kirk frowned. Where had that extra condition come from all at once? And what did it mean?

  “The best what?” Kirk asked warily.

  “The best to protect us,” Norinda said.

  “How do we determine that?” Kirk asked.

  Norinda smiled again, stealing his heart if not his mind. “That’s why we have to play.”

  Kirk did not enjoy feeling out of control again. “Play what?”

  “Me,” growled a deep voice behind him.

  Kirk wheeled.

  And the Klingon attacked!

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  REL VESSEL, MANDYLION RIFT, STARDATE 1008.1

  THE KLINGON’S FIRST PUNCH sent Kirk flying to land flat on his back on spongy green grass. He couldn’t tell if it was because the punch was that powerful, or because he had been so put off guard by Norinda.

  Still trying to comprehend what had happened, Kirk rolled to one side, pushed himself up on his elbows.

  The Klingon glowered down at him, small eyes narrowed. His long thin mustache and wispy goatee gave his smooth, glistening face a threatening cast.

  “Get up, Earther!” the Klingon barked.

  “Who the hell are you?” Kirk demanded.

  “So far,” the Klingon sneered, “I am the winner!”

  With that he kicked Kirk’s leg, not to hurt him, Kirk realized, but to goad him into getting up.

  Kirk instantly drew up his legs, then vaulted to a standing position directly in front of the Klingon.

  This time, Kirk had the element of surprise, and he used it, grabbing the Klingon’s gold battle sash to yank him forward. Then Kirk butted his head against the Klingon’s, the sharp crack of impact causing the mighty Imperial warrior to stagger back with a blank expression worthy of Spock.

  Kirk pressed home his attack, sending a kite blow into the Klingon’s chest, right where a human heart would be, and when the Klingon lurched over with a grunt, he followed through with an old-fashioned, Iowa farmboy’s uppercut.

  The Klingon howled in startled pain, rocked back on his boots, but just as Kirk thought the fight was over, the Klingon’s hand shot out and grabbed Kirk’s wrist.

  He twisted it painfully, throwing Kirk off balance, drawing him close.

  Kirk was only centimeters from the Klingon’s face. He could smell foul breath, see crumbs of food in his beard, feel the spray of saliva as the Klingon snarled, “batlh biHeghjaj!”

  “Same to you!” Kirk shouted, whatever it meant, then brought his knee up into the Klingon right where it would drop a human male.

  The Klingon’s eyes popped open in surprise and he released Kirk at once.

  Kirk fell back to one side as the Klingon collapsed to the other.

  “Guess we’re not that different after all,” Kirk muttered. He got up again, watching as the Klingon, moving slowly, did the same.

  But before they faced off again, both were distracted by the sound of excited clapping.

  It was Norinda, like a child at a circus.

  “Good! Good!” she said excitedly. “That is how to play!”

  Kirk looked at the Klingon and the Klingon just as warily watched Kirk.

  “Let me guess,” Kirk said. “If you protect her and the others, the ship is yours.”

  The Klingon scowled. “The ship will be mine. I have already played the Andorians for it. And the Andorians lost.”

  “Their ship was atomized,” Kirk said.

  “A most effective definition of losing,” the Klingon replied.

  Kirk held up a hand to ward off the Klingon, and turned to Norinda. “Is this your plan? You actually want us to fight to see who has the privilege of protecting you?”

  Norinda chewed her lip as she nodded. “All life is a struggle. If you struggle, you win what you desire most. And then, you will not have to struggle again.”

  “What could be simpler than that?” the Klingon growled.

  “I can think of a lot of things,” Kirk said. He turned back to Norinda. “Norinda, you have to know what’s at stake here. If the Klingon Empire gets your ship, they’ll use its technology to launch a war of aggression against th
e entire galaxy.”

  “And you wouldn’t?” the Klingon scoffed.

  “No!” Kirk said. He stepped closer to Norinda. “I represent the United Federation of Planets. We are a peaceful—”

  “Liar!” the Klingon shouted.

  Kirk tried to ignore him. “—a peaceful assembly of civilized worlds—”

  “And mad butchers who plot to steal our colony worlds!” the Klingon roared.

  Kirk spun around, as ready to fight the Klingon as he had been ready to kiss Norinda. “I don’t know who you are, but—”

  “I am Kaul!” the Klingon proudly proclaimed. “Son of Koth. Hero of Rytaka. Lord Commander of the I.S.S. Vengeance. Bound for the Black Fleet. And eater of human entrails!”

  “He is the best,” Norinda said admiringly.

  “The child knows the truth,” Kaul said. “Leave while you still can.” His tone left no doubt it was his last warning. Only Norinda stood between them now.

  “But why is he the best?” Kirk asked Norinda. He needed to know more before he could decide the best course of action.

  “The Klingons played with the Andorians,” Norinda explained earnestly. “And the Andorians lost. And before that, the Andorians played with the Orions, and the Orions lost.” Kirk listened in amazement as Norinda continued her recitation, like a kid recounting a season of lacrosse, and the wins and losses of favorite teams. Except, the Andorians and Orions hadn’t lost. They had died. En masse. “And before that,” Norinda innocently continued, “the Orions played the Tholians, and the Tholians, they didn’t even get a chance to know they were supposed to play. So…it’s just the Klingons now. And you, Captain Kirk.”

  “And whoever wins, gets this ship,” Kirk said grimly.

  Norinda smiled happily at his understanding. “Whoever wins, gets what they desire most. And will never have to struggle again.”

  Kirk stood in the midst of a jungle of flowers in the heart of a starship that could mean the difference between the Federation’s survival and growth, or its defeat by the Klingon Empire.

  He didn’t see he had a choice.

  “All right, Kaul. What sort of game do we play?”

  Kaul pointed to Norinda. “The child decides.”