“I know, Sulu,” Kirk said. “The ship was attacked. There was nothing more that Captain Caulder or you could have done.”
Sulu peered up at Kirk. “I’m not talking about the results of Captain Caulder’s orders or actions, or even yours, sir,” the lieutenant said. “I’m talking about members of the Courageous crew dying after I assumed command.”
“In a battle you didn’t start,” Kirk insisted.
“When I took the Courageous into the atmosphere with the structural integrity field failing . . .” Sulu said, but then he stopped and shook his head. “I should have known better. The integrity field was bound to give way, and with the ship’s hull already compromised, it was inevitable that . . .” He couldn’t seem to finish his thought.
“It was inevitable that the crew would be at greater risk,” Kirk said gently.
Sulu nodded.
“You made a command decision,” Kirk said. “From my vantage, Lieutenant, it was the right decision.”
“I don’t think I can see it that way,” Sulu said. “People died following my orders. People died, leaving their families and friends to mourn them. I’m not sure how I can live with that. If I’d done something different, maybe more of the crew would have survived . . .”
Kirk stood up and walked out from behind the desk to face Sulu. “Maybe,” Kirk said. “Maybe you could have made different decisions and saved the lives of more Courageous personnel. But then you could have given different orders and more of your crew might have been lost. And maybe thirty-seven thousand Bajorans would have died.”
Sulu expelled a breath. “Is that how we’re supposed to evaluate command decisions?” he asked. “By measuring the number of lives lost against the number saved? Ten died, but twenty lived, so it’s a good day?”
“No, I didn’t mean to suggest that it works like that,” Kirk said. “You do what you feel is right, and then you take responsibility for those actions.”
“It’s a terrible burden,” Sulu said.
“It can be,” Kirk agreed. “But somebody’s going to be out here making decisions—sometimes life-and-death decisions. I’d rather those choices get made by somebody for whom it is a burden. I don’t want the commander of a starship issuing orders without knowing the gravity of a situation . . . without understanding the possible repercussions of their orders.”
Sulu looked down without saying anything, then stepped forward and reached out his right hand. “Thank you, Captain,” he said.
Kirk took the offered hand. “Let me tell you something, Hikaru,” he said. “Someday not that far into the future, you’re going to make a fine starship captain.”
Sulu smiled again, this time with genuine emotion. “I’m not sure I see that for myself,” he said. “I did once, but I’m not so sure anymore.”
Kirk shrugged, then tried to lighten the mood by saying, “Well, I understand that you’re no longer the second officer aboard Courageous.”
“No,” Sulu said. “At the moment, she’s not spaceworthy, and I’m not sure how long it’s going to take to get her back to the Federation and repaired.”
“There’s always room here for you,” Kirk said. “We already have a second officer in Scotty, but we haven’t added any new helmsman in the time you’ve been gone.”
“Thank you, sir,” Sulu said. He appeared relieved and genuinely grateful. “I may take you up on that.”
“I hope you do,” Kirk told him.
Exit
The Rendering of Allegiant Thanks
Just weeks before the scheduled end of Enterprise’s five-year mission, a subspace message arrived. It pleased Sulu to see that Trinh’s mother had sent it, but when he listened to her message, she told him that Trinh had been able to hold on no longer. Once more, Nguyen Thi Yeh thanked Sulu for being such an important part of her daughter’s life, no matter how short the course of their days together. She also invited him to visit her on Mars if he ever made it back to Earth.
As it happened, Sulu would be there in less than a month. And he decided that he would indeed make the trip to Mars.
• • •
Kirk sat on the edge of his bed and closed his eyes. As Enterprise headed toward Earth, he listened to the sounds of the ship he had commanded for nearly five years, recognizing every one of them. The captain listened, and he remembered, and he thought about the future.
Except that the future can be tiring, Kirk thought. More than anything, that’s what he felt those days. A year earlier, he had begun hearing rumors about what would happen after the end of the mission, and in the time since, he’d heard others. It had worn him out. He’d thought he knew what he wanted, but, in recent days, that certainty had abandoned him. Yes, he wanted to captain a starship, but he also wanted . . . a beach to walk on, with no braid on his shoulders. Sulu had experienced firsthand the burdens of command, and he’d been right about them. And maybe Kirk had borne enough of them.
Sulu had been right about something else too: all the deaths. It didn’t matter how good Kirk’s reasoning, how sound his choices, it still tore a piece of him away every time somebody died on his watch. And people had died . . . people who, like everybody else, left behind mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, lovers and friends. He’d lived with that for a long time. Maybe too long.
He didn’t know anymore, didn’t feel he could know. He would take Enterprise back to Earth and then see what happened. And if he ended up an admiral at Starfleet Headquarters . . . well, at least he knew a particular admiral he might like to take out to dinner.
Acknowledgments
Writing a novel seems, by its very nature, a solitary affair. I sit at the desk in my home office, my fingers capering across a keyboard as I read on a computer screen the images and ideas I have conjured in my mind and translated into words. Nobody watches me. Nobody answers my questions. Nobody helps me.
Except, of course, that picture does not capture the full experience of penning a novel. There are editors—Ed Schlesinger and Margaret Clark—who approach me for the project in the first place, who tender me a contract, who start me off in the right direction. And even though they live and work on the other side of the continent, those editors—by way of the postal service, e-mail, and telephone—do watch what I’m doing, do answer my questions, do help me. The process of getting a book into print (and, in this modern age, into pixels and electrophoretic ink) is highly collaborative. My words, my story, my characters, my dialogue, my themes are all examined and either approved or flagged for discussion. The subsequent conversations between writer and editors often enough result in changes to my outline or to my actual manuscript, and those changes are always for the better. My editors are my allies. To them, and to their able assistant—I’m looking at you, Julia Fincher—I offer my grateful appreciation.
And while I’m talking about writing and editing, I’d also like to take a moment to express my gratitude to all the readers out there. Clearly, I could not do what I do if you did not do what you do. Reading and writing are two sides of the same coin, and it’s a currency that can enrich the world. Thank you.
Beyond the professional, I am also sustained on a personal level. Writing a novel, even with editorial assistance, can be a daunting task. I always feel a mixture of ambivalence, fear, and excitement when I face that first blank page, knowing that I have tens of thousands of words to produce before I even come close to reaching the end of that initial draft. I could not start, endure, or complete the process without all the wonderful people just on the other side of my door.
This time around, I want to start with the “L.A. Family.” My life has been made all the better by a cornucopia of bright, creative, loving people: Louis Herthum, Pascale Gigon and Van Boudreaux (five vowels and only four consonants, but who’s counting?), Roger Garcia and Sean Stack, Phil McKeown, Kat’ Ferson, and Bruce Ravid. I adore you all.
Walter Ragan is another person who provides me with tremendous support. He is also a role model, a man easy to admire. I’m
fortunate to have him in my life.
Colleen Ragan, Anita Smith, and Jennifer George are my sisters—one of them by blood, all of them by choice. There can be nothing more life-affirming than being surrounded by such loving, strong, and happy women. I am a better man simply for knowing them.
Patricia Walenista has many passions—reading, Civil War history, hockey (especially the Pittsburgh Penguins), football (especially the Pittsburgh Steelers and my Clemson Tigers), and international travel, just to name a few. Fortunately for me, she continually shares her zest for living, offering a daily example of what it means to be a whole and happy human being. I am grateful for the many joys she has contributed to my life.
Finally, as always, I want to thank Karen Ragan-George. Karen is my earthbound star, whose continuous love and support make everything possible. As she begins on a fresh artistic journey, I look forward to watching her blaze a new trail through her life. Karen’s passion, determination, and courage are exemplars of a life well and fully lived. My respect and admiration for her are surpassed only by my love . . . for now and ever.
About the Author
With Allegiance in Exile, DAVID R. GEORGE III has penned an even dozen Star Trek novels. David returns to the original series after writing the Crucible trilogy to help celebrate the fortieth anniversary of the show’s premiere. Those three novels center on the events of the episode “The City on the Edge of Forever,” using Doctor McCoy’s accident, Commander Spock’s bitter knowledge, and Captain Kirk’s tragic love affair to explore each of those characters. Provenance of Shadows chronicles the dual lives of Leonard McCoy, unspooling in two different timelines. The Fire and the Rose examines Spock’s struggle to reconcile his human and alien selves. And The Star to Every Wandering visits the impact that the death of Edith Keeler has on James T. Kirk.
David has also contributed frequently to the saga of Deep Space Nine. Most recently, he wrote a loose trilogy of novels featuring DS9 and its once and future crew members, all set against the backdrop of the Typhon Pact, the six-member alien alliance designed to challenge the United Federation of Planets. Rough Beasts of Empire follows the renewed Starfleet career of Captain Benjamin Sisko, beginning with the Borg invasion and moving into the Romulan schism; the story also involves an older Spock, and introduces the previously unseen Tzenkethi. Plagues of Night and Raise the Dawn round out the three-book set, tracking the Typhon Pact’s continuing efforts to tip the balance of power in their favor, and detailing explosive events on Deep Space 9 itself.
Prior to that, David visited the continuing post-television Deep Space Nine saga in two other novels. Twilight (Mission: Gamma, Book One) features Commander Elias Vaughn leading an exploratory mission into the Gamma Quadrant, and Captain Kira Nerys dealing with the possibility of Bajor finally joining the Federation. Olympus Descending (in Worlds of Deep Space Nine, Volume Three) delves into the Great Link, examining the nature of the Founders, their culture, and their collective mind-set.
Coauthored with Quark actor Armin Shimerman, The 34th Rule marked David’s first journey into the DSN universe. Set during the series’ fourth season, it is a tale that peers not only into the avarice promoted by Ferengi culture, but into their cunning manipulation of others in their ongoing quest for treasure. Played not for comedy, but for drama, The 34th Rule features Quark and Rom, Benjamin Sisko and Kira Nerys, and Grand Nagus Zek.
David also wrote a Lost Era novel, set in the interregnum between the time of Captain Kirk’s command of Enterprise and that of Captain Picard’s. Serpents Among the Ruins takes readers aboard Enterprise-B, commanded by Captain John Harriman and First Officer Demora Sulu, and it discloses the tale of the Tomed incident, referenced in the Next Generation television series. David followed up Serpents with another Demora Sulu story, a novella called Iron and Sacrifice, which appears in the anthology Tales from the Captain’s Table.
David also composed an alternate-history TNG novel, The Embrace of Cold Architects, which appears in the anthology Myriad Universes: Shattered Light. He also cowrote the television story for a first-season Voyager episode, “Prime Factors.” Additionally, David has written nearly twenty articles for Star Trek Magazine. His work has appeared on both the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists, and his television episode was nominated for a Sci-Fi Universe award.
You can chat with David about his writing at facebook.com/DRGIII.
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ISBN 978-1-4767-0022-9
ISBN 978-1-4767-0023-6 (eBook)
Allegiance in Exile Page 27