The Unsettling Stars

by Alan Dean Foster

  Kirk allowed himself a small comfortable smile. “Try me.”

  “Are the Perenoreans an inherently hostile species?” Spock inquired of the Dre’kalak commander.

  “No, but…”

  Having already interrupted his captain, the science officer barreled forward. “Are they a people that has demonstrated a proclivity for war? For attacking others without provocation?”

  “No.” Ul-tond was beside himself. Almost literally, Kirk thought as he observed the alien commander’s highly fluid physical contortions. “The danger they present is— You do not understand!”

  “Can you enlighten us, then?” Kirk’s calm tone was backed by an inviting grin. “Why don’t we all stand down? Get together somewhere that’s mutually agreeable. If the Dre’kalak have some long-standing grievance against the Perenoreans, we offer our services as mediators. We might be able to resolve the differences between you without any further hostilities.”

  Having made his offer, Kirk glanced toward the science station. Why not? Spock did not smile back, of course, but by way of response he did appear to nod ever so slightly.

  As carefully and courteously as Kirk had framed the suggestion, it was just as swiftly rejected.

  “You still do not understand, Captain Kirk of the Federation! You cannot negotiate with Perenoreans. You cannot talk to them. Just talking with them can destroy you. You cannot ‘resolve differences between’ with only words. They must be obliterated!”

  “Agreeable species, aren’t they?” Chekov’s expression was grim. Sulu did not respond. He suspected what was coming next.

  And he was right.

  The Dre’kalak commander’s ship opened fire with every weapon in its arsenal. Waves of energy accompanied by ominous projectiles were dispatched simultaneously on an intercept course toward the Enterprise.

  “Evasive action!” Kirk snapped. Sulu’s and Chekov’s fingers were already in motion before their captain’s order had finished ringing in their ears.

  The Enterprise lurched sharply as a rush of pallid amber light enveloped the ship. It was accompanied by a brief but unmistakable shuddering. This passed rapidly, followed by a series of detonations.

  “An unknown energy weapon.” Spock’s attention was locked to the science console. “Powerful—but no match for our shields. It is the same for their equivalent of photon torpedoes.”

  “No reduction in shields’ strength, Captain,” Chekov reported.

  Kirk’s expression was set. “Let’s see if the same holds true for theirs. Fire photon torpedoes, Mister Sulu. Standard spread.”

  Sulu complied. While both vessels remained in constant motion and the Perenorean colony ship continued its desperate defense against the three Dre’kalak craft, a brace of torpedoes rocketed from the Enterprise to impact against the shields of its own assailant. The resulting blasts and brief flare momentarily obscured the target.

  “Sensors detect a diminution in the protective energy field surrounding the Dre’kalak vessel.” As he made the observation, Chekov expressed quiet satisfaction. “I would estimate a reduction in the neighborhood of one-third to one-half.” He glanced back at the captain. “They are firing at us again.”

  “Respond in kind, Sulu,” Kirk ordered. “Photon torpedoes and phasers this time.”

  Two more waves of amber energy flowed over the Enterprise. Some concussive damage was reported amidships, but her shields held and full hull integrity was maintained.

  “Initial exchanges of fire and counterfire would seem to indicate that we are stronger than the Dre’kalak vessel is, Captain.” Left to himself, Chekov would have unleashed everything in the Enterprise’s considerable armory. He awaited Kirk’s order. Most significantly, at any moment the Dre’kalak commander might request aid from his flanking craft. Doing so, however, would leave one or more of them exposed to a counterattack from the Perenoreans. Given such a scenario, Chekov wondered, would the Perenoreans attack? Or provided with a temporary respite, would they take the opportunity to flee? That would leave the Enterprise to battle the trio of Dre’kalak warships alone. He voiced his concerns to Sulu.

  “I believe I have an idea of what the captain is thinking, Hikaru.”

  “Do you, now? Your accelerated matriculation must have crammed in a lot of subjects. Command psychology as well as navigation?”

  “It is not difficult to see. If you are correct in your battlefield assessment that the Enterprise is more powerful than the Dre’kalak flagship, then in a one-on-one fight we are likely to defeat it. If its commander requests assistance from the rest of his battle squadron, then it opens the possibility that the Perenoreans may be able to retreat into warp space. Or in a consequent one-on-one fight, even defeat a Dre’kalak ship. Either way, if the Dre’kalak turn the majority of their attention to us, then they risk allowing those they really wish to destroy a chance to get away.”

  Chekov found one particular aspect of the battle puzzling: the inability of even one Dre’kalak warship, much less all three attacking in concert, to defeat the Perenorean colony ship.

  “They are much better defended than a Federation colony ship would be,” the ensign pointed out. “Based on what we have seen of Dre’kalak battle technology, it is surprising that the Perenorean shields have held up. And they continue to fight back with their limited weapons.”

  “They’d better.” Sulu was studying his sensors. “Captain, a second Dre’kalak vessel has broken off the attack on the Eparthaa and is opening fire on the Enterprise.”

  Having aced Interstellar Battle Theory and Practice, not to mention having engaged in a real and near-fatal combat with a ship from the future, Kirk was concerned but far from impressed by this new information.

  “Mister Chekov, maintain our present position relative to the Eparthaa. I’m sure the Dre’kalak’s tactical personnel are intelligent and they won’t hit one of their own. Keep their flagship between us and their second craft—it’ll mitigate against the latter’s use of their own weapons. Mister Sulu, continue to direct all phaser fire against the Dre’kalak flagship and send a double salvo of photon torpedoes to skim it. Engulfing pattern.”

  “Very clever, Captain.” There was muted admiration in Spock’s voice. “They won’t be sure who we’re firing at, and the resultant confusion can only be to our benefit.”

  Kirk nodded. “Just like in a bar fight. Pretend to hit the guy in front when you’re really aiming at the one behind him. He ducks your punch and the load who’s second in line never sees it coming.”

  “I wouldn’t know, Captain. But from what I have heard, it is evident that your knowledge of such tactics is extensive.”

  Kirk only grinned. And not just because he was mildly flattered to learn that the ship’s science officer had taken the time to peruse his captain’s personal history all the way back to Iowa.

  Rattled by the ferocious counterattack, the enemy vessel slipped sharply to port. In doing so, it avoided every one of the photon torpedoes that had been launched from the Enterprise. What the Dre’kalak failed to realize was that none of them had been aimed at the flagship in the first place.

  The majority of them found their intended target—the second Dre’kalak warship, which was accelerating in its haste to come to the aid of its commander’s vessel.

  Overwhelmed by the concentrated release of energy from the tightly grouped salvo of torpedoes, the Dre’kalak ship’s shields briefly collapsed. This allowed the remaining torpedoes to make proximate contact with the alien hull. Though only two of them got through before shields were restored, the resultant detonations were enough to seriously cripple the ship. Incapacitated and therefore unable to continue fighting, it withdrew from the battle.

  Kirk offered: “That ought to even the odds a little. While maintaining contact with our opponent, Mister Chekov, see if you can’t maneuver us closer to the Eparthaa.”

  “I’ll try, Captain.”

  The Enterprise and the Dre’kalak flagship continued to dance around each other
and exchange furious fire. Spock’s thoughts were focused on his readouts, while the science officer continued searching for openings in the enemy’s defenses. A part of him was silently contemplating the circumstances in which they and their determined adversaries presently found themselves.

  Were Vulcans the only species in the galaxy that chose logic and reason over emotion and conflict? Were all disagreements between space-going sentients destined to be resolved at the end of a phaser? It was not logical. As a youth, he had often engaged in long discussions with his instructors and his father over the nature of humans, as well as that of other intelligent species. Sarek had repeatedly pointed out to him it was not necessary to participate in bloodletting to master the art of warfare. Humans who engaged in simulated combat never concluded the exercises by killing the loser.

  So why then were they and other similar species predisposed to slaughter? Calm, reasoned discussion invariably produced similar conclusions. Today, the Federation had made contact with not one but two entirely new intelligent species, and true to form, one was seeking the extermination of the other. While he was unwilling to accept the Dre’kalak commander’s slightly hysterical insistence that the Perenoreans posed a threat, neither was he ready to grant the Perenoreans claim to be harmless and lost. Entirely benign races did not display the kind of weapons mastery that was displayed via the Eparthaa.

  Phasers, torpedoes, plasma beams, disruptors—why did so many sentients choose to resort to them? Clearly it was going to take some time to try and make sense of it all, to clarify that which continued to remain opaque to him. If time and circumstances permitted, perhaps he could seek the wisdom of his elder self, since no one else could elucidate what appeared to be a galaxy-wide conundrum.

  A cry from Lieutenant Sulu interrupted Spock’s reverie.

  “A hit! One of our torpedoes got through to their flagship, sir!”

  Logic and reason would have to wait, Spock told himself. There was a battle to be won. “Lieutenant Sulu is correct, Captain. The Dre’kalak flagship is showing every indication of losing power. Its shields are on the verge of failing.”

  “They’re hailing us again.” Uhura fought to restrain her excitement.

  “Why am I not surprised?” In contrast to his mildly sardonic words, Kirk’s expression was somber. “On-screen, Mister Chekov.”

  The face—or at least the region of the dark green conical upper body that one presupposed was the face—of the Dre’kalak commander appeared before them. A dark patch or bandage of some sort covered his left side and one of his three eyes appeared to have slid several centimeters southward. Behind him could be seen several Dre’kalak moving about in considerable haste, their conical shapes occasionally obscured by flowing streaks of smoke like gray alien ghosts.

  “Captain Kirk. We are withdrawing.”

  His scientific precocity did not prevent Chekov from betraying his age by letting out a cheer. When he realized that he was alone on the bridge in loudly punctuating the Dre’kalak commander’s concession, he tried to shrink into his seat. Kirk ignored the youthful outburst.

  “You admit defeat.” Kirk was watching the alien closely, trying to read meaning into the rippling of soft skin and the flexing of powerful tentacles.

  “Yes, we have lost. But we do not surrender. We will depart under fire, if you insist on persisting.”

  Kirk did not directly respond. Let the Dre’kalak think the Enterprise was eager to continue the fight when in fact only good tactics and slightly superior armaments had prevented disaster. Furthermore, he was not about to pursue three alien warships without backup. And even had they been so inclined, the badly battered Perenoreans were in no condition to assist.

  Besides, the Enterprise had achieved their aim, which was to prevent the Dre’kalak from destroying the Perenorean colony ship.

  A quiet Spock was mentally reviewing exactly the same scenario. It would be interesting to see if the Perenoreans argued for pursuing and annihilating their assailants. That would suggest that they were far more aggressive and more dangerous than they had presented themselves. It was reassuring when no such call to continue the battle reached the Enterprise from the Eparthaa.

  This time, Kirk did not consult with anyone on the bridge. “I would say go in peace, but it’s a little late for that. So, just go.”

  The image on screen was breaking up, possibly from damage to the enemy flagship’s communications systems, perhaps from making preparations to initiate the jump to warp space. “We have lost, Captain Kirk—but so have you.”

  The image crackled once more, then vanished entirely. As the bridge complement looked on, first the Dre’kalak flagship and then its two flanking vessels went to warp speed. In their wake, they left a gas giant, several huge moons, and two starships: one lightly impacted, the other severely damaged.

  “Receiving a hail from the Eparthaa, Captain,” Uhura informed him.

  It was Leaderesque Taell. The bandage he had been sporting was gone. “You have saved us, Captain Kirk. I and everyone on our ship owe you our lives, for however much longer we may continue to exist in this plenum.”

  Kirk coughed into his closed fist. Normally, excessive praise made him swell up like a balloon, but this was a bit much. It was left to Spock to proportionately reply.

  “Federation laws explicitly allow for the providing of assistance to refugees. Whatever the nature of the disagreement between your kind and the Dre’kalak, we are certain it could and would have been better resolved through rational discussion. As the Dre’kalak declined, rather brusquely, to participate in such a prudent dialogue, we were compelled to persuade them by other means.”

  “As you certainly have done.” Taell’s voice was soft but emphatic. “Though we can never properly repay you, we would beg the privilege of thanking you in person. Will you do us the honor of visiting our ship so that we may present proper homage?”

  “We would be honored. Enterprise out.”

  To the captain’s surprise, Spock was immediately agreeable. When he asked why, the science officer responded without hesitation.

  “Were the intentions of these people hostile, they could have fired on us now, Captain. Insofar as I have had time to study it, their initial psychological profile does not suggest a species inclined to treachery or violence. Given the present condition of their vessel, I do not think they could mount a serious threat to the Enterprise even if they were so inclined.”

  Kirk considered, then smiled slightly. “Is that the sum of your reasoning in this matter, Mister Spock?”

  “No, Captain. I admit that I am curious to meet them in person. Not only as representatives of a new species, but as someone who is also a refugee.”

  Rising from the command chair, Kirk walked over to stand beside his science officer. “You know, Spock, while it’s not explicitly forbidden by regulation for a captain and his first officer to be off ship at the same time, it is frowned upon.”

  “Yes, Captain. I will file a formal report on the inadvisability of taking such action—as soon as we return.”

  “All right, Spock. I understand. I’m more than a little curious to meet these people myself.” He looked to his right. “Lieutenant Sulu. Mister Spock and I will be paying a formal visit to the Perenorean colony ship. Until conditions on board the Eparthaa can be properly evaluated, we will conduct such transfers via shuttle. You are in command.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.” Rising from his station, Sulu moved to assume the captain’s chair. Settling into it, he instinctively felt that if given the chance, he could get used to the position.

  “And,” Spock continued, “I believe that Doctor McCoy should accompany us.”

  Kirk did not try to hide his surprise. “Mister Spock, I wasn’t aware that you so earnestly desired his company.”

  The science officer visibly stiffened. “If Leaderesque Taell has been telling the truth, then there are likely to be wounded on the Perenorean vessel. Doctor McCoy’s presence in a professional capacity
would be appreciated by the Perenoreans, and therefore stands to accrue additional goodwill toward the Federation.”

  “Yes, of course. I should have thought of it myself.”

  “Captain.” It was Uhura again. “Lieutenant Ben-Haim for you.” She frowned uncertainly.

  Puzzled, Kirk leaned into Uhura’s station. “Mister Ben-Haim, what is it? Mister Spock and I are about to go across to the Perenorean ship.”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt diplomatic efforts, Captain, but we have a problem in engineering.”

  Kirk let out a heavy sigh. “On my way.”

  “If you prefer, Captain, I can…” Spock began.

  Kirk cut him off. “No, I’ll take care of it.” He smiled. “Inform Doctor McCoy that he’ll be joining us. I’m sure he’ll enjoy hearing it from you personally.”

  “Captain.” The first officer’s dry tone was even more than usually pronounced.

  3

  Confident he could deal with the situation in engineering whatever its cause, Kirk moved purposefully to that section of the Enterprise. As he entered the area where the chief engineer was usually found, the first inkling of the nature of the predicament manifested itself, though not in any of the several forms he had anticipated. Surrounded by the immense tangle of silvery conduits, processing cylinders, sealed wiring, and photonic connectors, he descended the access walkway until he was intercepted by an engineering officer, Lieutenant Ben-Haim.

  A rousingly loud bellow resounded from somewhere behind and below Ben-Haim.

  “Oohhh, there was a young lady from Inverness,

  “I stopped to ask her about her dress…!”

  While casually following the words, Kirk looked sideways at the ship’s second engineer. “Is that singing?”

  The continuing lyrics were rapidly approaching warp nine on the bawdiness scale. Ben-Haim looked uncomfortable. “I believe so, Captain.”

  Kirk’s expression hardened. “Is that Chief Engineer Scott singing?”

  The engineer looked as if he would rather be anywhere else. “Yes, Captain.”