Suddenly, Mitchell had the same idea. “Kirk?”
“It’s the only possible explanation.”
Mitchell turned to the monitor again and smiled. “The man works in mysterious ways,” he muttered.
“What’d you say?” asked Brandhorst.
Mitchell shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
Chapter Nine
KIRK WAS already standing on the circular transporter pad with three other cadets when Mitchell walked into the room.
“Cutting it a little close?” he asked the underclassman.
Unperturbed, Mitchell shrugged. “I prefer to think of it as split-second timing, sir.”
The transporter operator, who was standing behind his control console, consulted his readouts. “Fifty-five seconds to beam-up,” he announced.
“You see?” said Mitchell, taking his place beside Kirk on the platform. “I could’ve taken some time to feed the plants.”
“You don’t have any plants,” the lieutenant pointed out.
[108] “Details,” the cadet replied. Then, under his breath, he said, “Tell me about this Captain Bannock.”
Kirk smiled as he considered the subject. “He’s one of my heroes.”
“No, really,” said Mitchell.
“I’m serious,” the lieutenant assured him. “Eight years ago, when Rollin Bannock was captain of the Excalibur, he devised and led the flanking maneuver that cost the Klingons the Battle of Donatu Five.”
“I’m impressed,” said the plebe.
“Really?” the lieutenant asked warily.
“Well ... no.”
“You should be,” Kirk told him.
“And why’s that?”
“Bannock’s strategy at Donatu Five,” said the upperclassman, “is considered one of the most brilliant gambits in modern military history. And in case you’re interested, Bannock was also responsible for convincing the Axanarri to sign a treaty with the Federation last year, earning himself and several members of his crew the Palm Leaf of Axanar.”
Mitchell glanced at him knowingly. “Several members ... including a certain Lieutenant Kirk, I’ll bet.”
“That would be a good bet,” said the lieutenant. “But what I got had nothing to do with it. I just admired the way Bannock handled the Axanarri. I hope I’m half the negotiator he is when I get my chance at command.”
“Ready to transport,” said the operator.
“Ready,” Kirk responded, as the ranking officer.
[109] “Energizing,” the operator reported.
“So if this Bannock’s been carting cadets around,” said Mitchell, “he’s probably something of a father figure ... yes?”
The lieutenant sighed, recalling Bannock’s demeanor. “You’ve got a lot to learn, Cadet.”
Suddenly, they were no longer in the Academy’s spacious transporter facility. They were standing on an identical platform in the considerably smaller transporter room of a starship.
In addition to the vessel’s transporter operator, there were two officers standing in front of them. One was a powerful-looking, olive-skinned fellow in the red shirt and gold bands of a security chief. The other was a wiry man with a deeply lined face and a shock of thick, gray hair, whose heavy-browed stare could have cut duranium.
“Lieutenant Kirk,” said the older man, who happened to be wearing the gold shirt of command. “Good to see you again.”
Kirk allowed himself a smile. “Good to see you, Captain Bannock. And you as well, Commander Rodianos.”
The security officer inclined his head. “Welcome back.”
The captain’s eyes, which were an ice-pale shade of blue, slid in the direction of the other cadets. “Brought me another batch of cannon fodder, have you, Kirk?”
“Aye, sir,” said the lieutenant, accustomed to Bannock’s bone-dry sense of humor. “I’ve already notified their next of kin.”
[110] The captain harrumphed, poker-faced. “As long as I’m in charge, I’ll make the jokes around here, Mr. Kirk.”
The lieutenant nodded. “Duly noted, sir,” he responded.
Bannock scanned the faces of the underclassmen on the transporter platform. “I’m Captain Bannock,” he told them. “This fellow here,” he said, tilting his head in the security officer’s direction, “is Lieutenant Commander Rodianos, my security chief. He’s the one you’ll have to answer to when you’re not where you’re supposed to be. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” the cadets answered with one voice.
The captain nodded approvingly. “You make a nice chorus. Now, there are a lot more of you slated to beam up, so if I were you I’d get the hell off that transporter pad.”
Immediately, the cadets got down from the platform. Naturally, Kirk noted, Mitchell was the last to respond to Bannock’s suggestion. The captain appeared to notice as well, though he seemed disinclined to comment on it.
“I’ve scheduled a briefing in the lounge,” he continued. “Deck three in half an hour. Any questions at this time?”
There weren’t any.
“Good,” said Bannock. “I like a group that knows how to listen.” Then he hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “So what are you waiting for? Get the blazes out of here.”
Kirk led the way out of the transporter room into the corridor beyond. As Mitchell caught up with him, [111] the underclassman made a face. “The man sure knows how to roll out the welcome mat.”
“Consider yourself lucky,” the lieutenant told him. “You caught the captain in a good mood.”
While Mitchell was contemplating what Bannock’s bad moods were like, Kirk showed the cadets to their quarters.
Mitchell did his best to keep up with Kirk, who negotiated the curving corridors of the Republic with practiced ease.
The plebe had never been out in space before, much less on a starship, much less on a starship of this size. The Constitution-class vessel seemed to sprawl in every direction, presenting him with one splendid, silver-blue passageway after another.
Fortunately, the Republic boasted state-of-the-art turbolifts, capable of transporting a person from any location in the ship to any other location—and all in no more than a few seconds. All one had to do was punch in one’s destination and the lift did the rest.
Thanks to the turbolifts, even a newcomer could get anywhere he wanted. Which was why Kirk’s insistence on guiding him through the ship seemed a little unnecessary.
“You know,” Mitchell said, “I probably could have made it to the briefing on my own. You didn’t have to give me a personal escort.”
“Yes, I did,” the lieutenant disagreed. “It’s the only way I could make sure you’d get there on time.”
“Since when did you become my keeper?” the underclassman wondered.
[112] Kirk glanced at him. “About the same time you became mine.”
Mitchell barely had a chance to ponder the remark when he spotted the entrance to the ship’s lounge. As he followed his friend into the room, he saw that a couple dozen cadets were already seated around the tables inside. Some looked familiar, others only vaguely so.
But only one of them really held his interest—a blue-skinned Andorian with long legs, big black eyes, and hair like spun silver. Her antennae were delicate stalks protruding from the center of her head.
“My, my,” Mitchell muttered appreciatively.
Then he glanced at Kirk and saw that the lieutenant had noticed the Andorian as well. But where Mitchell had taken the sight in stride, Kirk was standing there with his mouth half-open.
“Easy, champ,” said Mitchell, low enough so no one else could hear him. “Just breathe, okay?”
“Okay,” Kirk muttered.
“Good,” said the plebe. “Don’t stop.”
Then he took the lieutenant’s arm and ushered him into the room. Choosing a table as far from the Andorian as possible, he sat down and pulled Kirk by his sleeve into the chair beside him.
Fortunately, no one noticed the lieutenant’s du
mbfoundedness, because the Republic’s command staff chose that moment to make its entrance. As the officers took their places at the far end of the room, Mitchell saw Bannock among them.
Rodianos was conspicuous by his absence. But [113] then, Mitchell mused, it was against regulations to leave the bridge unoccupied, even in Earth orbit. Even he knew that.
“Thanks a bunch for coming,” the captain told the assembled cadets, his tone nothing short of sardonic. “For everyone’s sake, I’ll try to make this as brief as possible. You’ve all met me and Security Chief Rodianos, much to your chagrin. Now you’ll meet the rest of my officers.”
First, he introduced a friendly, almost matronly-looking woman with graying brown hair pulled back into a bun. Her name, he said, was Ellen Mangione; she had been his exec since he took command of the Republic.
“In this case,” Bannock noted, “familiarity has bred only respect. See that you treat the commander with it as I do.”
Next came a Vobilite named Miyko Tarsch, who served as ship’s doctor. Tarsch had the mottled red skin and protruding jaw tusks common to males of his species, but his yellowing thicket of white scalp spines showed he was getting on in years.
Science officer lord Gorfinkel was third in line. A lean fellow with aquiline features and curly brown hair, Gorfinkel nodded a bit awkwardly to the cadets when he was introduced.
The last to be identified was Hogan Brown, the Republic’s chief engineer. Brown was a black man with light green eyes and a full, dark beard. When he smiled, he showed all his teeth.
“The rest of the crew,” the captain pointed out, [114] “has been granted shore leave on Earth. They’ll be enjoying themselves in history-soaked cities and exotic climes while my command staff and I remain here to groom the future of the Fleet. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, that’s you.”
Their voyage, Bannock went on, would be “a simple one. We’re to conduct a two-week sweep across the Federation side of the Klingon Neutral Zone, during which time you will assist in updating planetary surveys. Of course, by the end of our mission, we’ll be skirting a sector claimed by neither the Klingons nor the Federation—but we have no plans to explore it. That’s a job for a more experienced crew.”
Mitchell glanced at his friend Kirk. The lieutenant had managed to close his mouth and turn his attention to the captain, but he couldn’t help stealing a look at the Andorian from time to time.
“We’ve all had plenty of experience with training voyages,” Bannock said, “so we know what kinds of behavior you promising young men and women are capable of. As a result, we’ll be keeping a close eye on you.”
Thoughtful of you, Mitchell mused.
“But,” the captain added, “if you keep your noses clean and do your job, you’ll beam off the Republic with a slew of experience and a new insight into your studies.”
One of the cadets, a woman with long, blonde hair, raised her hand. Bannock recognized her.
“Will we get a chance to express our preferences as to which duties we’ll perform?” she asked.
[115] A ripple of laughter ran through the line of command officers. The captain’s eyes crinkled at the corners, but he refrained from laughing along with his staff.
“We’ve got all that information in our files,” he told the cadet. “If we’ve got any questions beyond that, we know where to find you.”
Obviously, Mitchell mused, it wasn’t the answer the cadet had been hoping for. Nonetheless, she would have to live with it.
“If there are no other questions,” Bannock said dryly, “you can check a monitor for your duty assignments. They begin in a few minutes. Good morning and good luck.”
As the captain and his staff took their leave of the cadets, Mitchell turned to Kirk. “Sounds exciting,” he said, making no effort to hide the sarcasm in his voice.
“It’s not,” the lieutenant confirmed. Unable to help himself, he watched the Andorian cross the lounge. “But it’s a necessary step if you’re after a berth on a starship.”
Mitchell smiled. “And what are you after?”
Kirk turned to him, caught off-balance. “What’s that?”
“I asked what you were after, Lieutenant. But don’t bother answering—I think I already know.”
Kirk’s brow creased. Then he glanced at the departing figure of the Andorian. “You mean her?” he asked.
“I mean her,” said the plebe.
“She’s just another cadet.”
[116] “Yeah, right,” said Mitchell. “And the Romulan Wars were just another skirmish. You want that woman and you know it.”
The lieutenant looked at the underclassman askance. “Don’t get any ideas, all right?”
“What do you mean?” Mitchell inquired innocently.
“I told you before, I don’t want you setting me up with anyone—least of all, her.”
“Why not?” the plebe pressed.
“Because she’s an alien,” Kirk pointed out. “I’ve got enough problems with human women.”
Man, Mitchell thought. Has he got a lot to learn.
“There’s nothing to it,” he told the lieutenant. “Aliens are no different from other women.”
“How would you know?” Kirk asked.
How indeed, thought the cadet.
“Excuse me,” he said, “but if you recall, we spent nearly a month at the Academy before this mission came through. I hope you don’t think I was ignoring my work for nothing.”
The upperclassman looked skeptical. “No ...”
“Oh, yes. And I’m here to tell you there’s no special trick to it. You open up to them and they’ll open up to you, just like any human woman.” He leaned closer to his friend. “So what do you say?”
Kirk shook his head emphatically from side to side. “I don’t want any help. I mean it.”
Mitchell grinned. “Not even a little?”
“I’m leaving now,” said the lieutenant, “to see to my assignment. If you’re smart, you’ll do the same thing.”
[117] Mitchell sighed. “You’ll be passing up the opportunity of a lifetime.”
Kirk blushed. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned the cadet. Then he got up and started to leave the lounge.
“Hey!” said Mitchell.
The lieutenant stopped.
“Meet you in the gym after first shift, right? Oh-one-hundred hours,” the underclassman suggested.
Kirk thought about it for a moment, as if trying to see what angle his friend might be playing this time. Finally, he nodded. Then he turned again and made his exit.
Mitchell shook his head in wonderment. What a piece of work you are, James T. Kirk.
Chapter Ten
KIRK GAZED at the monitor in his quarters and smiled.
He had called up the Republic’s duty schedule, only to see that he had been given the ship’s helm—and not just on the part-time basis he had enjoyed the year before. This time, the post was all his.
Of course, he couldn’t steer the ship all day and all night, nor did he want to. But it would be up to him as to who took over, for how long, and under what circumstances.
It was a lot of responsibility for a cadet, even one who had been given officer’s bands. But Captain Bannock had a lot of faith in Kirk. The man had said as much to his face.
Suddenly, this mission seems a lot more exciting, the lieutenant mused. Rising from his workstation, he left his quarters and made his way out into the [119] corridor, then headed for the nearest turbolift. The doors parted as he approached, revealing an empty compartment. He entered.
As the doors closed again, Kirk thought about Mitchell’s offer. Contrary to what he had said in the lounge, the Andorian wasn’t just another cadet to him. In point of fact, he found her extremely attractive.
If Mitchell could have been guaranteed that the attraction would be mutual, he might have let the cadet arrange a date for him. Hell, he might have begged him for it.
But the lieutenant knew himself too well. He w
as no longer the happy-go-lucky Jim Kirk he had been back in Iowa—and no woman would ever fall for a man who had become ... what had Mitchell called him?
A walking freezer unit.
Maybe someday, Kirk mused, he would have the luxury of studying less and taking life as it came. Maybe someday, he would be able to focus on something besides his studies.
But every time he thought of Captain April or Admiral Mallory—good people who had put their reputations on the line to get him into Starfleet Academy—he felt compelled to show them they had made the right decision.
Kirk had barely completed his thought when the lift doors opened again, admitting him to the Republic’s bridge. Briskly, he circumvented the captain’s chair, which was empty for the time being, and headed for the sleek curve of the helm-navigation console.
[120] Chief Rodianos was sitting there at the moment, performing both functions. Clearly, the lieutenant thought, he would have to do the same.
“Mr. Kirk,” said Rodianos, turning in his seat. He smiled. “Think you can handle her?”
The lieutenant smiled back at him. “I guess we’ll see, sir.”
“I guess we will,” the security officer agreed good-naturedly. Getting up, he turned his console over to Kirk and made his way to the aft security station, no doubt to run some more system diagnostics.
Savoring the moment, the lieutenant sat down and took Rodianos’s place at the helm. The controls and monitors there looked as familiar as if he had seen them only the day before, though it had been months since he last set foot on the Republic.
A quick scan of the console showed him that everything was in order. External sensors, both long-range and short-range, checked out fine. So did navigational deflectors, weapons arrays, and both sets of engines.
Kirk was about to check his course-deviation plotter when the image on his warp-drive monitor changed, drawing his attention. Somehow, the green-on-black graphic that should have described the rate of plasma release had given way to something else ... something unexpected. ...
A human face.
And not just any human face, the lieutenant realized. This one was familiar to him, though he wished at that moment it weren’t. Worse, the face was [121] grinning at him, leering at him, as if it had just heard the universe’s best and biggest joke.
STAR TREK: TOS #85 - My Brother's Keeper, Book One - Republic Page 9