Captain's Peril

by William Shatner

  Kaul and Kirk both turned to Norinda then.

  “A race, I think,” she said with glee. “Yes…a race to the highest place. That’s a good game. To begin when the ship passes over the big storm again.”

  Kirk looked at Kaul. “A race?” How could a race determine the fate of the galaxy?

  But Kaul didn’t seem troubled by doubt.

  “It’s her ship, Earthman. So they are her rules. I suggest you listen carefully as she explains them, so you can die with honor.”

  Kirk turned back to Norinda, and as if she had suddenly become possessed by the spirit of a computer, she began to recite to the combatants the precise protocols of the race she had in mind.

  “It is quite logical,” Spock said.

  In the main conference room on the Enterprise, Kirk stared across the table at his science officer. His head ached from smashing into Kaul’s skull. And the rest of his body was still dealing with the residual effects of being in such close proximity to Norinda. But Spock’s bizarre statement made Kirk forget the discomforts of his body.

  “Logic?” Kirk said. “What the hell is logical about a mountain-climbing race?”

  Spock shrugged. “It is a test of both character and technology. Both effective ways to judge a culture. And I find it encouraging that she does wish to test for both, and not just brute strength.”

  Kirk looked to his other department heads for support. “Anyone have anything to add?” he asked.

  “Look, Jim,” Piper said, and Kirk could see the doctor was deliberately taking an informal approach to avoid the usual friction that sparked between them. “I think Spock has a point. If you put the girl’s story together, it’s very compelling. She and…however many more of her people are on that ship, have escaped from some horrible regime. Navigation’s been working on the trajectory information Starfleet Astronomics provided, and there’s probably a good chance their ship came here from the Greater Magellanic Cloud.

  “Now, think about that for a minute. They had to run from their home galaxy. That’s a frightened bunch of refugees, and who can blame them? The technology that’s on that ship…I think we could be looking at a frightening new form of totalitarian evil. The name of the people they’re escaping from, the way it translates into English—the Totality. I don’t think that’s an accident.”

  “All right, Doctor,” Kirk interrupted. “I’ll concede they’re on the run from something worse than the Klingons. But why not just ask for asylum? Why go through this charade of ‘playing’?”

  Piper didn’t want to get into a fight. He looked at Spock. “You explain it.”

  “Captain,” Spock said calmly, “if we accept that Norinda and her people have escaped from the Greater Magellanic Cloud in what is, for all intents and purposes, a stolen starship, then we are faced with an alarming fact. A totalitarian government which is able to create starships so powerful, and so technologically advanced, that mere children are capable of piloting them across intergalactic space. If a frightened band of escapees can do it, then there is no barrier to a trained military force doing the same.”

  “You’re talking invasion?” Kirk asked.

  “I do not pretend to understand the logic that would support the concept of conquering star systems in another galaxy. Such a plan of conquest must be driven by motives other than material gains. However, I do accept that Norinda and her people do logically fear that the regime from which they escaped will come looking for them. If I were in their position, I would take great care in choosing any potential ally.

  “Certainly, their stolen ship is a treasure house of technological advancement. But what if they squandered that treasure by presenting it to a culture unwilling or incapable of using it to the full extent? When their pursuers arrive, Norinda’s people would once again face capture or enslavement. Thus, I believe it is quite logical for her to have created a set of selection criteria. Clearly, her ‘games’ are a viable method for finding representatives of a culture with the qualities that make for suitable defenders.”

  “Mr. Spock,” Kirk said, “in case you’ve forgotten, that ‘child’ somehow kills the losers of her little games.”

  “I believe that was in the nature of whatever previous competitions she set up. Losing a mountain-climbing race will not result in the loss of this vessel.”

  Kirk stretched back in his chair. What was the point of calling a meeting of department heads if he wasn’t willing to listen to their advice?

  “All right,” Kirk said. “We’ll ‘play’ with Norinda. But I don’t intend to lose.” Kirk began to stand up, but for once, no one else did. Kirk paused, looked around the table. “That’s it. Meeting adjourned.”

  “Not yet,” Piper said.

  Kirk felt a flash of anger, but kept it hidden. “New business?” he asked.

  “Captain Kirk,” Piper continued, and this time he made no effort to hide the formal nature of what he was about to say, “as chief medical officer of this vessel, in consultation with other senior officers, I am stating for the record that I will not permit you to take part in the competition.”

  Kirk had wondered if this day would ever come. Since Piper was retiring soon, Kirk had hoped they could serve together for a mere eight months without ever letting the tension between them build to a head. But here the day had arrived.

  And Kirk was ready to crush Piper if that’s what it took to retain his command.

  “Is that your medical opinion, Doctor?” Kirk was hoping the man would be proud enough to say yes. That would open the door to a medical hearing, and that would require at least twenty-four hours to convene. Since the competition was scheduled to take place within the hour, nothing could stop Kirk from taking part.

  But Piper was playing by different rules.

  “No, not a medical opinion. It’s a question of command. And of logic.”

  I should have known, Kirk thought as he turned to Spock. Just as he had suspected days ago, when the first Code Five message about the Mandylion Rift had reached the Enterprise. The doctor and the science officer working together. Conspiring’s more like it.

  “And would you care to explain that logic, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asked pointedly.

  “You are too valuable an officer to risk on a frivolous assignment.”

  “That ship?” Kirk said. “Warp fifteen? Frivolous?”

  “Of course the alien ship is not frivolous. But to risk your life, and thus the safety and well-being of this ship and her crew, in an activity for which you are not suited, is irresponsible.”

  “Kaul is taking part!” Kirk snapped.

  “I have no way of ascertaining the Klingon commander’s expertise in this matter, so he is not germane to the debate.”

  Kirk had had enough. He stood up again. “I’m going,” he said.

  Spock stood up as well. “No, sir, you are not.”

  Kirk stared at his science officer in amazement. “Spock, you have no authority to stop me.”

  “I do, however, have the authority to question your orders when such questions do not impede the functioning of the ship, or endanger her, her mission, or her crew.”

  “Well, you’re damn well impeding me,” Kirk said.

  “The competition is not slated to commence for another forty minutes.”

  “And you intend to keep me here, arguing for that length of time?”

  Spock gave another, nonchalant Vulcan shrug, and just for an instant, Kirk wondered if his science officer had another plan in the works. He looked at his other department heads, but Scott, Tanaka, and Sulu studiously avoided his gaze, clearly not wishing to take sides.

  “All right, Spock, Doctor, I’ll give you five minutes.”

  Spock nodded graciously.

  “I’m the best man for the competition,” Kirk said. “That’s why I should go.”

  “No, sir, you are not the best man,” Spock said. He nodded at the communications chief. “Lieutenant Hounslaw is an experienced mountain climber, with fifteen major ascents to his
credit, including the North Face of Mons Olympus.”

  Kirk looked at the lieutenant with condescension. “Mons Olympus is nowhere near the artificial-gravity colonies of Mars, Lieutenant. Not too difficult climbing a mountain in one-third Earth gravity, I’d imagine.”

  Hounslaw was nervous, but he spoke up. “Sure, it’s low gravity, sir. But it takes a week, and the whole thing has to be done in environmental suits, which is how this race with the Klingon is going to play out.”

  Kirk held his temper—and his tongue.

  “I know you like freeclimbing,” Piper said. “I’ve seen the broken bones on your medical records. But climbing in a suit is an entirely different matter.”

  “I can handle it,” Kirk insisted.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Spock said. “Your first duty is to the ship.”

  “No, Mr. Spock, my first duty is to Starfleet. My first duty is to the Federation.”

  “Lieutenant Tanaka shares that duty and that commitment.”

  Kirk pounded his fist on the table. “I don’t doubt anyone else’s commitment on this ship! But I am going to beat that damned Klingon myself and that’s the end of it!”

  Spock looked at Piper. “Doctor?”

  Piper picked up his cue. “Captain Kirk, truly, I take no pleasure doing this, but you have just demonstrated a willingness to place your personal vendetta above your duty to Starfleet. Thus, if you insist in taking part in this foolhardy competition, I will have no choice but to issue a psychiatric caution report—effective immediately without benefit of a hearing—and have you involuntarily removed from command.”

  Kirk was stunned. He couldn’t speak.

  “Jim, please,” Piper implored. “Delegate the competition and the subject dies here. No reports. This never happened.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Kirk said, seething. “You planned all this? It’s the only way you can stop me.”

  “You spoke what was in your heart, Captain.” Even Spock seemed shaken by what had transpired in this room. “We are acting in the ship’s best interests, and in yours.”

  Kirk looked away, looked at the floor, and after reviewing the key sections of the Uniform Code of Starfleet Justice he had memorized, he knew that their trap was perfect. Not only couldn’t he take part in the competition, he couldn’t even charge Spock and the doctor with mutiny.

  “There’s nothing I can do, is there?” Kirk said quietly.

  “No, sir,” Spock said, and he was equally subdued.

  Kirk felt numb. “I know you two are protected by regulations,” he said to Spock and to Piper. “But if we lose that alien ship…the day the Klingons attack us with its advanced technology…it will be on your heads.”

  Neither Spock nor Piper replied. Kirk could see they wanted this to be over.

  “At least you have the decency to be ashamed,” Kirk said. “Lieutenant Tanaka…”

  Tanaka jumped to attention as if he were a cadet. “Yes, sir.”

  “Report to the hangar deck. Get fitted out.”

  “Yes, sir.” Tanaka left at doubletime.

  “Now the meeting’s adjourned,” Kirk said.

  The others rose quietly, started for the door.

  “And Mr. Spock…”

  Spock looked back. “Yes, Captain.”

  “Consider your request for transfer accepted. Soonest possible opportunity.”

  Spock nodded, left.

  Kirk remained alone in the conference room, seething with anger.

  And what made that anger even worse, was that he knew his science officer and his ship’s surgeon were right.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  BAJOR, STARDATE 55597.4

  “NOTHING HERE IS WHAT IT SEEMS,” KIRK SAID.

  Aku Sale seemed distressed by Kirk’s displeasure. But Rowhn I’deer matched Kirk’s anger with her own.

  “We’re scientists, Captain,” Aku said in a wavering voice. “Archaeologists. Nothing more, or less.”

  “Definitely more,” Kirk insisted. He looked at Rowhn from across the cluttered and musty storage tent, not in the least intimidated by her. Outside, the rain had become a cloying mist, and the temperature continued to drop. “A cook told you where to find Bar’trila.”

  “That’s a lie,” Rowhn said. “Before the occupation, a flash flood revealed—”

  “Clay tablets,” Kirk interrupted. “Yes, I know the story. Picard told it to me. It’s the story the Institute for the Revelations of the Temple tells the public. But it’s not true.”

  “You would accept the word of that provincial child over mine?” Rowhn asked.

  “She has no reason to lie.”

  Aku looked shocked. “Captain…neither do we.”

  “Not you, Professor,” Kirk said. “But everyone else, yes.”

  Rowhn stood up from the scarred wooden table that was her work area. It was stacked with fragments of clay tablets. Beside it, open barrels of seawater held hundreds of other fragments retrieved from the submerged site, but not yet examined.

  “No,” Kirk said to her. “You’re not leaving.”

  Rowhn glanced at Kirk, who once again had been forced to sit to spare his knee. “And you plan to stop me?”

  “I plan to encourage you.” Kirk nodded over the mounds of tablets. “The instant you walk out of this tent without answering my questions, is the instant I crush all those tablets into clay powder.”

  Kirk refrained from smiling as he saw the momentary flutter of fear pass through Rowhn.

  But she quickly tried to recover. “Even you aren’t barbarian enough to erase a window into thousands of years of Bajoran history.”

  “My friend is dead,” Kirk said. “And someone is going to pay for that. Walk out of this tent before you tell me everything I need to know, and it’s going to be you.”

  Rowhn stalked back to her worktable. “I will file a report. I will have you barred from Bajor. I will tell the Federation how one of its own tried to—”

  “I don’t give a damn what you do! But you will answer my questions!”

  Kirk’s outburst visibly shook Aku Sale, but not his enraged colleague.

  “Fine, offworlder,” Rowhn said tightly. “Ask your questions.”

  Kirk settled back in his camp chair, silently cursing his swollen knee and its incessant pulsing. He forced himself to focus instead on what Avden Lara had told him during their conversation at the cooking center. How her husband had been dismissed from the Bajoran militia. How her daughter, Melis, had become ill shortly after. How Professor Nilan, the first victim of the murderer stalking this camp, had refused to allow Lara the chance to find a cure for her daughter’s illness. And how the Prophets had then come to her in a dream to tell her where Bar’trila could be found.

  There were two patterns at work here, Kirk believed, underlying what was happening in this camp. Tellingly, the two patterns didn’t match. Kirk didn’t need to be a Vulcan to know that this mismatch was the result of a lie, and that discovering that lie would lead to a motive, and the motive to the killer.

  “Do you believe in the Prophets?” Kirk began.

  Rowhn’s head jerked back as if that were the last question she had expected to be asked. She touched her d’ja pagh.“Do I breathe air?” she asked. “Does my heart beat? Do my eyes see? Why ask me a question to which you already know the answer?”

  Kirk was intrigued. Her angry defensiveness was gone. He had engaged her full attention.

  “How do you feel about people who don’t believe in the Prophets?”

  “If you mean offworlders, I feel nothing. If you mean Bajorans, I feel pity for them, as do the Prophets.”

  “You cared a great deal about Professor Nilan.”

  Rowhn’s eyes narrowed at Kirk’s change of topic. “What can this possibly have to do with—”

  But Kirk wouldn’t let her finish. “We made a bargain, Dr. Rowhn. What were your feelings for Professor Nilan? Answer the question.”

  “Please, yes,” Aku added. “This is far too
upsetting. Bring it to an end.”

  Rowhn’s austere face flushed. “I loved him. Is that what you want to hear?”

  “I want to hear the truth.”

  Rowhn took a breath, clasped her hands together tightly, said again, “I loved him. And his death might as well have been my own for the pain it has brought to me.”

  Kirk heard the truth in that. He offered an olive branch. “Dr. Rowhn, two years ago, I lost my wife, and I still grieve.”

  Rowhn scorned his offering. “What can an offworlder know about love blessed by the Prophets?”

  But Kirk was not to be distracted by his knowledge that Bajorans considered aliens incapable of true emotion. In what Rowhn had just said, he had found his lie, and he threw it back at her now.

  “How could your love be blessed by the Prophets if Professor Nilan did not believe in them?”

  Rowhn looked confused. “What nonsense is this?”

  Kirk pressed on. “Nilan believed the Prophets of the Celestial Temple are wormhole aliens living in a dimensional realm of nonlinear time.”

  Rowhn’s hand flew up to her mouth, in shock or disgust Kirk couldn’t tell.

  “What right do you have to slander and demean the dead?” she demanded.

  “Captain, really,” Professor Aku said urgently, “you go too far.”

  “Not yet, I haven’t,” Kirk answered.

  “Nilan Artir believed in the Prophets!” Rowhn insisted.

  “Then why,” Kirk asked, “did he refuse to allow Avden Lara to search for B’ath b’Etel?”

  Kirk couldn’t count how many emotions played over Dr. Rowhn’s face then. He saw bewilderment, then anger, then puzzlement, and then she stared at the wall of the tent as if caught by a memory.

  “Is that what Avden Lara told you?” Rowhn finally asked.

  “Yes,” Kirk said. “But someone else was aware of Nilan’s refusal, too. Sedge Nirra. And that’s why Sedge believed Lara was a strong suspect in Nilan’s murder.”

  Rowhn sagged against her worktable, as if she were having difficulty breathing.

  She looked over at Kirk with wide eyes. “He believed, Captain Kirk. My Artir did believe.” Her tone sounded almost pleading.