Captain's Peril

by William Shatner

  Ignoring the body, Picard checked the settings on the pad and shared his findings with Kirk. Biofilter screening was turned off, which was standard for point-to-point transport within the same planetary atmosphere. But barometric equalization was active. Which was also standard when beaming personnel from different altitudes or pressurized spacecraft. That setting meant the excess nitrogen from their dive had already been eliminated from their bodies.

  With Picard at his side, Kirk abandoned the trench, knowing that Bajoran officials would take care of the details of uncovering Atal’s organization, tracing the transmitter, finding out how Cardassian equipment had reached this world.

  Exhausted, elated, and in considerable pain, the two captains trudged across the barren soil toward the camp, drawn by the setting sun and the scent of the sea.

  The sky was clear on the horizon. The few remaining clouds glowed orange and red.

  The Five Brothers weren’t visible yet, but Kirk had no doubt they were there. All of them.

  The members of the camp whom Kirk had left behind with orders to remain together were still on the shore, looking out at the distant diving platform anchored at sea. Dr. Rowhn, Professor Aku, Prylar Tam, the three young graduates, and Lara.

  Picard raised an arm, about to shout at them and attract their attention.

  But Kirk placed a hand on Picard’s arm to restrain him. There was still one more thing to be done. To accomplish it, they would have to enter the camp from the shoreward side, where no one would see them, no one would stop them.

  When Kirk and Picard at last approached the others, they did so from behind, surprising them. In his arms, Kirk carried Melis, daughter of Trul—whom Atal had confessed murdering. The child was now too ill to struggle against being taken from her tent by Kirk.

  His and Picard’s return was met by the seven Bajorans by indignation, questions, anger, fear.

  But the only one to whom he paid attention was Lara. Seeing her helpless child in the arms of an alien, the Bajoran woman ran at Kirk to reclaim her daughter. But Kirk would not surrender the child.

  “I have to do this,” Kirk told Lara quietly. “For the sins of the father to be visited on the child…that is not the will of the Prophets.”

  Prylar Tam flushed with outrage. “How dare you presume to speak of the Prophets!”

  “Tell him what is in my heart,” Kirk said to Lara.

  At first, she didn’t understand. And then, hesitantly, she nodded, and as she had before, she reached out to touch Kirk’s ear.

  To read Kirk’s pagh.

  Kirk’s soul.

  Prylar Tam protested, tried to pull her from Kirk.

  But as Lara took her hand from Kirk’s ear, and stepped back in awe, she held her arm out to keep the white-haired monk from interfering.

  “B’ath b’Etel…?” she whispered to Kirk. “You saw him…?”

  “The Guardian,” Kirk said, “seeking atonement.” He glanced down at the young girl cradled in his arms.

  Lara bowed her head to Kirk and moved aside.

  Unopposed now by the silent group of Bajorans, Kirk left Picard and walked on to the Inland Sea.

  He stood there for a moment, the sun swollen and bright before him, just touching the horizon.

  He looked down at Melis. Her face was too pale, the circles under her eyes, too dark.

  “Are you afraid?” he asked her gently.

  She reached up with a small finger to touch the smooth, unridged line of his nose. “Are you?” she asked.

  “No. Not this time.”

  The child gave Kirk her answer by wrapping her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder as if she were only going to sleep.

  Kirk walked into the water, waded up to his chest.

  B’ath b’Etel was waiting.

  Kirk felt the creature’s tentacles slip around him in a lover’s caress. They pulled him smoothly down into the water, and he accepted the moment, without struggling, without even trying to take a breath.

  They descended together, the three of them. The water darkened as liquid shadows mixed with the sea and swirled around them.

  Kirk found it curious he didn’t feel the need to breathe, and in some distant part of his mind where rational thought still struggled to make sense of this communion, the connection was made to how Picard had survived his passage into the underwater cavern.

  Then in the darkness, the black and yellow eye was once again before him, only centimeters away, filling his vision. Glowing from within. Its vision piercing him.

  The gods walk among us, Kirk thought, and it was the last sentence of coherent language to pass through his mind in the encounter.

  But there were other ways of communicating not based in language, and that was what took hold of him now. Whether chemicals or thoughts or energies unimagined, he didn’t know, and, in truth, it didn’t matter. Only what was said was important, not the means by which the message was conveyed.

  As he was directed, Kirk released the child, felt her small hands slip away from him, small trusting fingers slide over his own, then she was gone.

  Kirk floated in shadow, at peace, not knowing if indeed he was still in the sea, or in the universe.

  Once he thought he saw a light. Hourglass-shaped. Sparkling far away through the sea’s dark currents. But it was only for an instant, and he didn’t know if it had been a dream or a wish or a moment of truth.

  Then B’ath b’Etel returned to him. Kirk felt the creature’s sinuous arms embrace him, tighten, pull him in toward its body until he was smothered in slick flesh. There was more to be said, he realized, more to be exchanged.

  Something moved closer to his head, coiled around his neck. He felt a sharp bite on his ear, on his pagh, and once more fell into his memories of the past…

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  U.S.S.ENTERPRISE NCC-1701, MANDYLION RIFT, STARDATE 1008.8

  AN HOUR LATER, on the bridge where he belonged, Kirk felt his heart being ripped from his chest.

  Norinda was saying good-bye.

  “You’re making a mistake,” Kirk pleaded with her.

  “But you lost,” Norinda said breathily. She pursed her lips in a maddening pout. “You didn’t even play the right way.”

  “That’s just me,” Kirk said. “But the Federation is bigger than one man. We can protect you much better than the Klingon Empire can.”

  Norinda ran her fingers through her hair, stretching languorously as if she had just awakened. “But the Klingons lost, too.”

  Kirk looked over at Spock. Spock looked over at Piper. Piper looked back to Kirk.

  Kirk asked the question.

  “Norinda…if we lost, and the Klingons lost, and…and everyone else lost…who won?”

  “The best,” Norinda said with a giggle. “Centurion Deimos. He really is exactly what we need.”

  “Centurion Deimos?” Kirk didn’t understand. “Who is he? Where’s he from?”

  “You see,” Norinda laughed. “That’s exactly why he’s the best. He’s going to lead us home now. We’ll follow his ship and we’ll be safe and he’ll have everything he ever desires.”

  She blew a kiss to Kirk and then faded from view.

  Kirk fought off the sudden pang of terrible loss that Norinda’s departure brought to him. “Mr. Alden,” he said. “Full sensor scan. Is there any other ship within the Rift?”

  “Absolutely not, sir. Only us, the Klingon, and Norinda’s ship.”

  Then, on the viewscreen, Norinda’s ship changed color, its silver reflective surface taking on a blue cast.

  “Power surge from the alien vessel,” Spock repeated.

  The slender ship banked gracefully, leaving Kaul’s battlecruiser in its wake. Then it came to relative stop, hung motionless in space as its color pulsed to indigo, and then—

  —it was gone.

  “Warp factor five from a standing start,” Spock said.

  “And no other ship to lead it?” Kirk asked.

  “If ther
e was one,” Kelso said, “then it had to be invisible or something.”

  “No, thank you, Mr. Kelso. I’ve had enough confusion for the day. For the week.” For the past five months, Kirk thought. “Mr. Alden, lay in a course for Starbase Eighteen.”

  “Aye-aye, sir.”

  Kirk stood up from his chair and stretched. It felt wrong, he knew, but he missed Norinda terribly. Someday he’d have to find out what it was she had used on him.

  “What about the Klingon vessel?” Kelso asked.

  “Nothing we can do about it,” Kirk said, with real regret. “Unless we’d like to start the war early.” He started up the steps toward the turbolift. “Let’s just be thankful that they lost, too.”

  As the ’lift doors opened, Kirk realized that Spock had stepped in beside him.

  “Time to call it a day?” Kirk asked as he twisted the control handle. “Deck five,” he told the computer.

  “Actually, Captain, I was wondering if we might talk.”

  “About anything in particular?” Kirk asked. “I know how much you enjoy making detailed plans.”

  Spock put his hands behind his back.

  “I thought, perhaps, this time, I might…throw caution to the winds.”

  Kirk laughed. “Coming from a Vulcan, that sounds like you’re taking a pretty big chance, Mr. Spock.”

  Spock kept his eyes straight ahead. “Perhaps it’s time.”

  Kirk smiled, thinking of things lost, things found, and how in the end, the equations just might balance out.

  “Perhaps it is,” he agreed.

  There were always possibilities.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  BAJOR, STARDATE 55600.2

  SOMETHING BUZZED IN KIRK’S EAR.

  A light flashed in his eyes.

  “You keep pretending you’re asleep and I’ll poke you with needles and bring out my leeches.”

  I know that voice, Kirk thought. What’s it doing underwater?

  “I have often thought your medical skills were honed in Earth’s Dark Ages, Doctor, and I am pleased to hear you finally confirm it.”

  I know that voice, too.

  “Or maybe we should just get Picard to bury him again. And this time, do it right.”

  Kirk’s eyes snapped open. He wasn’t underwater. “Bones? Spock?”

  “No,” Admiral McCoy said at Kirk’s bedside, “it’s Harry Mudd and an Orion dancing girl. Who else d’you think’s crazy enough to follow you halfway across the galaxy to pull you out of a fish? Or was it a whale?”

  Kirk sat up, much too quickly. He could tell he was in a bubble tent in the Bajoran camp, but everything around him was spinning so fast he couldn’t see details, other than the crisp Starfleet uniforms of his two closest friends and colleagues.

  “Easy there,” McCoy said. “You’ve been out for a couple of days.”

  “Days?” Kirk said.

  “And you’re going to have a doozy of a headache.”

  “Doozy?”

  “I believe the good doctor thinks it’s a medical term. Are you well, Captain?”

  Kirk had to think about that. “I’m…alive, Spock. That’s always a good start.”

  “Well,” McCoy said gruffly as he leaned back in a complaining camp chair, “I don’t know why you’re alive after the crazy stunt you pulled. But…welcome back.”

  Kirk took several deep breaths and the kaleidoscopic tent slowed down. He saw he was still wearing Bajoran clothes, but they were freshly laundered. And he was in his old trousers, with a right leg!

  He touched his knee. No pain, no swelling.

  “You tore some cartilage,” McCoy said dismissively. “The camp cook even had a working regenerator in her first-aid kit but didn’t know what it was for. Did it give you much trouble?”

  Kirk swung his legs over the edge of the cot. “Barely noticed it.” He looked around the tent again, realized who was missing. “Where’s Joseph?” It had only been a week since he had last seen his son, but that was seven days too long.

  “Joseph is attending classes on Deep Space Nine,” Spock said.

  Kirk looked up, pleased. “There’s a school there?”

  McCoy sighed. “Basically, your boy has been adopted by Quark’s dabo girls, so Quark has converted one of his holosuites into ‘an educational resource center.’At an exorbitant fee, I might add.”

  Kirk thought about Quark’s dabo girls. Remembered Quark’s holosuites. “I suppose you could consider that environment…educational,” Kirk said.

  “You could,” McCoy snorted.

  Kirk smiled at Spock and McCoy. “I’ve missed you two.” He clapped McCoy on the shoulder. “Especially you.”

  McCoy gave Spock a smug smile. “See? He does like me best.”

  “For today,” Kirk said, wondering how McCoy and Spock treated each other when he wasn’t around to deflect them from direct combat. “And only because I need the medical details on the girl.”

  McCoy lost his smile. “Naturally. With you, there’s always a girl.”

  “She’s seven years old, Bones.”

  “Ah, little Melis. What medical details?”

  Kirk didn’t understand the question. It should be obvious. “How is she?”

  McCoy shrugged. “Considering she’s been running around this camp at warp five, from what I’ve been able to glimpse in passing, I’d diagnose her with skinned knees. Oh, and I think her fingernails are dirty. Is there something I’m missing?”

  Kirk felt a huge smile break over his face. “Ever hear of F’relorn’s disease?”

  McCoy nodded. “Environmental disease here on Bajor. Heavy metal pollution from the occupation years. Affects children. Incurable…” He narrowed his eyes at Kirk. “Are you telling me that youngster has F’relorn’s?”

  “What if I was?”

  “I’d say you’re crazy. For the few seconds I’ve been able to see her as she goes charging by, I’d say she’s a perfectly normal, healthy, rambunctious little girl.” McCoy frowned. “That smile of yours gets any bigger, I’m going to think I gave you too many painkillers.”

  Kirk stood up. He felt a trifle stiff, as if he hadn’t moved around for a few days, but his knee was fine and nothing ached. “Is Picard still here?”

  “I believe he has settled in for an extended stay,” Spock said.

  “Is that so?” Kirk started for the tent flap. He could see sunlight beyond it. A new day.

  “Apparently, he has persuaded Starfleet to ‘loan’ the Enterprise to the Bajoran Institute for the Revelations of the Temple for the next two months.”

  Kirk pushed through the tent flap, and after a moment of surprise, he started to laugh.

  Beyond the little gathering of faded-orange bubble tents, he could see a complete Starfleet bivouac complex, including barracks tents, portable cargo transporter pads, and a shuttle-landing field, courtesy of the Starfleet Corps of Engineers.

  “Picard’s excavating Bar’trila,” Kirk said.

  Spock and McCoy stepped to either side of him.

  “Supposed to be the biggest archaeological site on the planet, next to someplace called B’hala,” McCoy said.

  Kirk decided that if that was the story Picard had presented to command, then he would not argue the point. But he doubted B’hala held a lost Orb and a Guardian.

  McCoy held his hands behind his back, rocked on his heels, said nonchalantly, “So…are you going to tell us what happened here, or am I going to have to ask this greenblooded hobgoblin to mind-meld with you?”

  “Doctor, your constant reference to supernatural beings only reinforces my suspicion that your medical knowledge is more suited to the craft of witchdoctor, and not Starfleet physician.”

  “Hey, before you start talking about supernatural beings…look in the mirror.”

  “Gentlemen…” Kirk said. “Much as I hate to break up your learned debate, has Picard told you what happened?”

  McCoy put his hand on Kirk’s shoulder. “He didn’t have to tell us,” t
he doctor said. “We got here two days ago. We were with the search team who found you.”

  Kirk didn’t like the way McCoy was looking at him. “Found me? Where?”

  “In the fish, Jim.”

  “You were serious about that? The rayl fish?”

  “I believe that is the local name,” Spock confirmed. “It is a class of squid. Not whale.” Spock looked pointedly at McCoy, who merely grinned at him.

  “And I was in it?” Kirk asked.

  “Tangled up in the tentacles at least,” McCoy said. He pointed north along the shore. “You washed up down there, by those rocks.”

  Kirk felt as if he needed to sit down again. “And…you say it was dead?”

  Spock looked intently at Kirk. “Captain, do you truly not remember your encounter with the creature?”

  Kirk realized then that Spock and McCoy had heard something about what had happened here. But not all of it.

  “I remember how it began,” Kirk said. “Not how it ended.”

  Spock cleared his throat. “The b’ath rayl—that is, the large cousin of the smaller rayl fish—is an endangered species on Bajor. It was hunted to near extinction because of its—”

  “Pagh r’tel,” Kirk said.

  Spock raised an eyebrow. “Correct. A dark, jellylike substance that forms within the creature’s reproductive system, can be excreted like ink, and which local folklore maintains has the capacity of restoring health and vitality.”

  McCoy interrupted. “Look, Jim, to make Spock’s long story short, it seems that the people of this camp say you went after one of these b’ath rayls and…you hacked out its pagh r’tel.”

  “In other words, I killed it.”

  “Starfleet and the Bajoran officials understandably wish to keep the report low-profile,” Spock said. “There is already considerable concern among the Bajoran population that privileged offworlders are using their planet as a private playground, and hold themselves above the local laws.”