Captain's Peril

by William Shatner

  Something had changed in Rowhn’s manner to him, the difference as distinct to Kirk as it had been for Lara once she had read his pagh.

  He asked his next question less forcefully. “Dr. Rowhn, is it possible for Professor Nilan to have believed in the Prophets, yet not in the stories of the Five Brothers?”

  She shook her head slowly. “The Bajoran faith is a tapestry of belief. The books of prophecies. The histories. The visions. Some details do change from place to place. Names might be spelled differently. In one province they might tell of four miracles of the Prophets. In another province, they tell of five.” She hesitated, then gave him an apologetic look. “But that’s only because we Bajorans are imperfect. Over the millennia we have not always been constant in our efforts to record the truths and pass them on. Yet still…at the core of all our faiths, some stories are unquestioned. Each faith on Bajor tells the story of the stolen Orb. Each faith on Bajor remembers the lesson of B’ath b’Etel. To accept the Prophets and not their history…” She closed her eyes briefly before continuing. “If the truth becomes a matter of choice or convenience, then why believe anything?”

  “She is right, Captain Kirk,” Aku said.

  But Kirk didn’t need the scholar’s assurance. He trusted his own instincts. Rowhn was speaking to him from her heart. Which left two possibilities.

  “Dr. Rowhn,” Kirk said gently, “I don’t question your faith, and I don’t question what Professor Nilan told you about his.”

  Just that preamble to a question not yet asked brought concern to the woman.

  “But what I’m left with trying to understand is, did Nilan lie to Lara about his disbelief in the Prophets—”

  This time, Rowhn interrupted Kirk. “Or did Artir lie to me about his belief?”

  Kirk spread his hands, nothing more to say.

  “I lived with him, Captain. I shared his life and his bed. He couldn’t lie to me about his faith. It was expressed in every moment of his day.”

  Kirk accepted that. He had no reason not to, felt no doubt that Rowhn was speaking truthfully.

  “Then why would Nilan have lied to Lara and told her he thought the Prophets were wormhole aliens?”

  Rowhn shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Unless…” Professor Aku said tentatively.

  “Any help you can provide,” Kirk prompted.

  The old man shrugged. “Perhaps he just didn’t want Avden Lara to find B’ath b’Etel.”

  Kirk tried to follow the logic of that, didn’t see how it would fit into the life of a devout Bajoran. “As I understand the situation,” Kirk said to Dr. Rowhn, “Lara’s daughter, Melis, has been judged unworthy by the Prophets because of something her father did. The life force of B’ath b’Etel could be a way for her to regain the favor of the Prophets. So why would anyone who believed in the Prophets and the good they do attempt to interfere with that possibility?”

  Rowhn looked down for a moment. “To obtain the b’ath rayl—” She looked up at Kirk. “That is what Lara wants, is it not? The oil?”

  Kirk nodded. “To…anoint her daughter.”

  “Well, to obtain that,” Rowhn continued, “the creature must be killed.”

  Kirk was confused. “The creature? Or B’ath b’Etel?”

  Rowhn corrected him. “The creature is a rayl fish, but much, much larger, and extremely rare. In fact, to be honest, I don’t think there has been a confirmed sighting since before the occupation.”

  “But what’s the connection,” Kirk persisted, “between the creature, extinct or not, and the…brother…who fell from the sky?”

  “The spirit of B’ath b’Etel is in the creature,” Rowhn said. “His pagh and the pagh r’tel of the beast were joined by the Prophets when he was cast down from the sky.”

  Now Kirk thought he understood. “So if one of the large rayl fish was caught and killed, B’ath b’Etel’s life force would move on to another.”

  Rowhn nodded. “For all eternity or until he achieves atonement. That is his punishment.”

  Kirk’s earlier animosity was gone. He could see no further use for it. What had begun as the interrogation of an unwilling witness had become a discussion among colleagues.

  “So what am I missing here?” Kirk asked. “Why would Nilan have not wanted Lara to try to find one of the giant rayl fish? Especially if there’s a good chance they’re extinct?” Except for the one that came after Picard and me, Kirk thought. But he wasn’t going to cloud the issue at hand.

  Rowhn thought aloud. “Animals were given to us by the Prophets for our wise use. My Artir would have had no objection to Lara’s hunt. If the Prophets were merely testing Melis, then they would allow the hunt to be successful, and Artir would never have interfered in the will of the Prophets. What reason would he have had to prevent Lara from doing what her faith—what our faith—demanded she do for her daughter?”

  Silence then. The answers Kirk had felt so close were not coming. And he didn’t know what other questions to ask.

  Until Professor Aku held up a trembling hand, as if asking permission to speak. “The curse,” he said. “The curse of B’ath b’Etel.” He looked expectantly at Dr. Rowhn.

  So did Kirk.

  Rowhn explained. “We are told that B’ath b’Etel seeks to atone for his sin against all Bajorans, so the Prophets will allow him into the Temple.”

  “How?” Kirk asked.

  “He has become the guardian of lost Orbs.”

  “I know about the one that was returned to the Celestial Temple long ago,” Kirk said. “But are there others?”

  “Lost Orbs?” Rowhn nodded. “Sometimes, in the past, but not as often these days. During the occupation, the Cardassians stole all but one, yet they’ve since been returned.”

  “Still,” Aku said in a frail voice, “if Nilan thought B’ath b’Etel really was guarding a lost Orb nearby, he might not have wished anyone to disturb the beast.”

  Aku’s suggestion gave Kirk his next question. “Dr. Rowhn, is there any chance, any rumor, any legend, that might suggest that there is a lost Orb in the city of Bar’trila?”

  From the look of shock on her face, Kirk took her answer to be yes.

  And with that answer, Kirk knew exactly what he had to do next.

  Just as he had known so long ago in the Mandylion Rift.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  MANDYLION RIFT, STARDATE 1008.3

  THE CENTER CHAIR of a starship was supposed to be its heart. The nerve center. The brain from which all commands sprang, all action commenced, all power flowed.

  And right now, it might as well have been a park bench a thousand light-years distant. Because Kirk would have the same control over events from that park bench today, as he would from this chair.

  The shuttlecraft Galileo had left the hangar deck thirty minutes earlier, flown by Tanaka. Norinda had been strict about the rules.

  One shuttlecraft from each starship. One passenger—the contestant—in each shuttlecraft. Any breach of these rules, by using a second shuttlecraft, a replacement contestant, or a transporter, would result in immediate forfeiture of the contest, and destruction of the offending side’s ship.

  Kirk had tried to question Norinda about that. With a brilliant, blinding smile filled with sweetness, she had told Kirk to consider the fate of the Andorian ship, after they had lost to the Klingons and tried to cheat by attacking with something other than a fission bomb as the rules of their particular contest had specified.

  Kirk recalled that Mr. Scott had said the debris from the Andorian ship was little more than sand. He was not about to subject the Enterprise to a weapon with that capability.

  With that understanding on both sides, the contestants had begun their journey to the planet’s surface.

  And Captain James T. Kirk could only watch.

  Thirty-five minutes after the Galileo’s departure, Tanaka’s replacement, Uhura, reported from communications. “Captain, I’m receiving a transmission from the lieute
nant. The Galileo has landed.”

  “Onscreen,” Kirk said quietly. He no longer felt angry, or lustful, or even frustrated. He just felt dull and used up. He wondered if this was how Spock felt every day, completely without emotion.

  The viewscreen fluttered from an image of Norinda’s ship and the planet below, to a slightly distorted image of Lieutenant Hounslaw Tanaka, standing up in the Galileo behind the pilot’s chair, pulling on his environmental suit’s helmet.

  “…and all the equipment checks out,” he said, the transmission beginning in midsentence. Then he stepped to the side so he was between the pilot’s and copilot’s chairs. “How do I look, Enterprise ?” His silver suit gleamed in the lights of the shuttlecraft’s cabin. The brightly colored tubes for atmosphere and coolant were garish, but designed for easy visibility in harsh conditions. Tanaka’s features were difficult to make out behind the protective structural-integrity mesh embedded in his monomolecular visor. But he moved with confidence, even laden as he was with climbing ropes coiled around his shoulders, bags of pitons hanging from his belt, a climber’s hammer dangling from one suited wrist, and a piton gun dangling from the other.

  “You look like you’re going to teach a Klingon a lesson in humility,” Kirk said, envying him.

  “Thank you, Captain, I will do my best.” On the screen, Tanaka operated the shuttle’s door and the instant it opened, all the moisture in the craft froze into a cloud of mist and swirled out with the escaping atmosphere. “Heading out to the staging area,” Tanaka transmitted.

  “Switching to outside visual sensor,” Uhura said.

  Once again, the viewscreen image changed, this time showing a barren expanse of rock. In the foreground was an out-of-focus section of the Galileo’s upper hull. In midfield, Tanaka’s silver-suited form walked slowly toward the background object—a Klingon shuttlecraft, seemingly corroded and pitted, and resembling the shape of the battlecruiser’s crouching propulsion hull.

  “The opposing team has arrived,” Tanaka transmitted. “I’m surprised he even bothered to show up.”

  Kirk had to smile at the communications officer’s bravado. He hoped Kaul was listening.

  Then the side airlock on the Klingon shuttle opened, ejecting a cloud of mist that streamed away. Kirk was surprised by the rapidity of its dispersal. There seemed to be a strong wind at work down there, despite a surface temperature of –120°C.

  “And I thought Starfleet suits were bright,” Tanaka said.

  Kirk could see what he meant.

  Kaul was climbing out of his shuttlecraft, wearing a bloodred Klingon environmental suit that resembled an anatomical model showing only striated muscles. To Kirk, the suit construction seemed an unsubtle attempt at intimidation of the enemy, its makers trying to suggest all the skin being flayed off a victim. No doubt harkening back to some charming period in Klingon history.

  Then Kirk heard Kaul’s distinctive growl over the communications circuit. “Heghle’neH QaQ jajvam, Kirk!”

  Kirk looked back at Uhura. “Translation, Lieutenant?”

  From his science station, Spock gave it. “A traditional greeting for warriors. ‘It is a good day to die.’”

  Kirk didn’t look over at Spock. He said, “Let’s hope he’s right.”

  The turbolift doors opened and Dr. Piper stepped onto the bridge. “They ready to get started?” he asked.

  Kirk turned in his chair. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable watching this in sickbay?”

  Piper defiantly took his place by Kirk’s chair. “We’re all on the same side, Captain.”

  Kirk said nothing. The bridge was no place for recriminations.

  Kaul’s voice suddenly blasted out over the bridge speakers. “You’re not Kirk!”

  On the viewscreen, Kirk could see Kaul, in his red suit, pushing his helmet close to Tanaka, in his silver suit.

  “The captain only takes on important work,” Tanaka said.

  “Good for him,” Piper commented.

  “Your captain is a coward,” Kaul jeered. “ batlh biHeghjaj !”

  Kirk recognized that phrase as something Kaul had said to him on Norinda’s ship. He looked back to Uhura again. “How about that one, Lieutenant?”

  “’May you die bravely,’” Spock said.

  Kirk decided he might as well be civilized. “Another traditional greeting, Mr. Spock?”

  “They are a tradition-minded people,” Spock said.

  Then Norinda’s voice came over the communications link, and Kirk was relieved that he was spared seeing her. Whatever it was that gave her her power over his emotions, it was much more subdued when she wasn’t visible.

  “Are you ready to play?”

  “ Hija’,” Kaul snarled.

  “Any time,” Tanaka replied.

  “Then approach the mountain,” Norinda said. “And know that on the topmost peak, I have placed a flower. Win the flower, win my heart, win my ship, and win me. All that you desire.”

  Piper rested his hand on the back of Kirk’s chair. “Now I see what all you people were talking about. Just that voice…whew.”

  “Try it in person,” Kirk said.

  “Hi, Captain,” Tanaka transmitted. “Can you see any of this?”

  “Sorry, no, Lieutenant. You’ve moved out of sensor range. How do things look?”

  “Not that bad, sir. I’m guessing it’s about a three-hundred meter climb. Slope varies, but seems like a lot of good handholds. That should make it faster.”

  Kirk debated whether or not to offer anything but encouragement, then decided he had to do more. “Uhura, can you switch us to a scrambled channel?”

  “Aye, sir.” She manipulated her controls. “Now Kaul can’t hear what either one of you say.”

  “Lieutenant, Kirk here. Look, I don’t want to tell you your job. You’re on the pointy end of the Rigellian spear down there, so you do what you have to do, the best way you can see to do it, understood?”

  Over the bridge speakers, Kirk could hear Tanaka beginning to breathe with more effort. “I hear you, sir. For what it’s worth, that’s just about what my dad would say before he’d give me some advice.”

  Kirk laughed. The lieutenant was sharp. “Was it good advice?”

  “Usually, except for the part about not joining Starfleet.” More hard breathing, then, “Was there something you wanted to tell me, Captain?”

  “Just a thought, not an order.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  “I know you’re down there to win, and I know you’re going to do everything you can to do that. But a good way to come out ahead in something like this, is to let your opponent be the one to make the mistakes. Understand me, Lieutenant?”

  “Slow and steady wins the race, sir.”

  “Good man. You use those pitons and ropes. Let Kaul try to make it on handholds.”

  “He’s already about five meters above me, sir.”

  Kirk looked over at Spock. Spock had no reaction.

  “But not to worry. He took an easy slope up to a steep wall. I started with a steep wall that should get me to—ah!”

  Everyone on the bridge froze, held their breaths.

  “Whoa, sorry about that, sir. Handhold snapped out. This rock…it’s more brittle than you’d expect.”

  Kirk began to breathe again. “Ropes and pitons, Lieutenant.”

  “Slow and steady, sir. I’ll get there.”

  Silence followed for long minutes after that. Tanaka’s breathing came and went, sometimes labored, sometimes fast, sometimes in a regular rhythm that gave Kirk hope that the young man had found a simple-to-negotiate path.

  After about twenty minutes, another gasp from Tanaka electrified the bridge. Then he spoke again. “So, did that wake anyone up?”

  “What happened?” Kirk asked.

  “Kaul just took a tumble. Slipped down about ten meters on his belly, hit a ledge though, kept his balance. Too bad.”

  “What’re your positions now?” Kirk asked.

&nbs
p; “I’m about eighty meters from the summit. No sign of the flower. I’d say Kaul is down about another twenty meters. But his ropes are still strung up, so he’ll be able to make up for lost time.”

  “How’re the rocks holding up?”

  “I think I’ve figured out what to look for,” Tanaka transmitted. “There’s a white lichen or fungus that’s growing on them. Thought it was frost at first, but it doesn’t brush off. Looks like long filaments burrow into the rocks, and that’s what fragments them.”

  Spock hit a switch at his station. “Lieutenant, Spock here. Can you describe the white lichen you see.”

  Kirk looked over at Spock. Even he could sense there was something troubling the Vulcan.

  “Sure thing…it spreads out like…well, like patches of frost, you know. Sort of radiating out in filaments, anywhere from a centimeter, to five or six across.”

  “What makes you think it’s lichen? Or fungus?”

  “Easy. When I was tying up a rope, I actually saw one patch of it grow.”

  Spock hit the switch at his station again, then spoke quickly, though calmly.

  “Lieutenant, this is very important. You must not touch any of the white substance. Do you understand. If you have touched it, you must wipe it off your suit at once.”

  Tanaka sounded as if he had picked up on Spock’s unspoken concern. “Could be difficult, Mr. Spock. I dragged myself over a big patch of it. I’ve got it all over the front of my suit, and my gloves.”

  Spock gestured for Uhura to cut the audio feed.

  Kirk got out of his chair. “What is it, Spock?”

  “Conditions on the planet below us are similar to those of Trager Three. There is a novel mineral that exists on that world, which extracts moisture from the air, combines it with silicon from rocks, to create a bloom of razor-sharp crystals.”

  “Is it alive?” Piper asked.

  “Not by strict definition, though it does extract building materials and energy from its environment, and it does grow and replicate.”

  “Forget that, Spock. If that’s the same material down there, what does it mean to Tanaka?”

  “Its growth speeds up exponentially when exposed to heat. And the faster it grows, the smaller and sharper are the points of its crystals.”