“No.” Kirk’s gaze narrowed. “Why should it? Not mentioning it doesn’t prove any effort at deception on the part of the Perenoreans. You know how straightforward they are. They don’t waste time. If one of us had asked if they were planning or starting construction on any additional settlements, I’m sure they would have replied openly and honestly. They have every other time.” He shrugged. “None of us thought to ask, that’s all.”
“I concur completely, Captain.”
Kirk surveyed the rest of the bridge. His crew were at their stations, waiting for him to issue the departure orders. His tone turned irritable. “Then what is the purpose of this revelation, Mister Spock?”
“Look again, Captain.” Once more the science officer adjusted the instrumentation, and once again the view pulled back only to zoom in a second time.
This time the rising settlement was set in a deep cove on the portion of continental coast nearest to the main river system and the initial touchdown site. Kirk did not need Spock to tell him that the structures that were rising in the excellent natural harbor were of Perenorean and not SiBoronaan origin. His impatience showed in his expression as well as his words.
“Okay, I see. There’s a third settlement going up. Any more you want to show me?”
Straightening, Spock dragged a fingertip across a control strip and the view on the monitor died. “I have only been able to find these two.”
Kirk gestured curtly. “Then the show’s over. We’ve done what we came to do and it’s time to leave.”
“Once again I agree, Captain.” As Kirk turned to go, the science officer restrained him with a few last words. “I did not show you these two additional settlement sites to suggest that the Perenoreans were engaged in anything deceitful, Jim.”
Having started toward the command chair, Kirk now paused and looked back. “Then why did you show them to me, Mister Spock?”
“To reinforce an observation already made. That these people are not just remarkably resourceful, but that they are capable of achievements even the best-prepared and best-equipped humans could not duplicate. Nor could my own people. The fact that in such a short time they have embarked on the establishment of not one but three settlements, I find nothing short of astonishing.”
Kirk didn’t waste time in profound contemplation of the science officer’s assertion. He had a starship to command.
“Desperate sentients are capable of extraordinary feats, Mister Spock. Take the example of Vregon VI, where the human population had to move its entire civilization—living quarters, farms, industries, everything—from one location to another because of rapid continental subsidence. That required a far more extensive hasty mobilization of resources than setting up three settlements instead of one.”
“I am familiar with the example you employ, Captain. It is not human fortitude and determination that I am comparing to the Perenoreans, but sheer speed. They make decisions and act on them with a swiftness I believe to be unprecedented.”
“Well, I say good for them. The faster they establish themselves, the sooner their colony will be ready to apply for full membership in the Federation. And maybe they can drag their slower-moving hosts the SiBoronaans along with them.” He smiled. “Speaking of moving fast, we’ve delayed here too long. I suggest you ready your station for departure.”
“Aye, Captain.” His expression betraying nothing, Spock turned back to his console and took his seat. Kirk turned to the rest of the bridge.
“Mister Sulu, Mister Chekov—prepare for departure. Mister Chekov, I presume you have a recalculated course so that we will resume our mission?”
“Plotted and entered, Captain,” the navigator replied.
Kirk nodded once. “Lieutenant Uhura?”
“Communications are open and scanning, Captain,” came the response from her station.
Settling himself in the command seat, Kirk leaned forward slightly and addressed the chair’s pickup. “Mister Scott, ready for departure?”
“The sooner the better, Captain. Sitting in one place gives me an itch in the—”
“Thank you, Mister Scott,” said Kirk quickly, cutting off the chief engineer. He straightened. “Mister Sulu, warp five. We’re in no rush now.”
“Aye, Captain.”
* * *
Sulu caught up to Kirk in a corridor late the following day.
“Captain? I was just wondering about something.”
Kirk grinned. “Wondering, Mister Sulu? On a starship on patrol in deep space? If you’re trying to shock me, you’re failing miserably.”
The helmsman smiled back. Although he was Sulu’s superior, the captain had a way of putting everyone at ease.
“I wasn’t trying to do that, Captain.” The smile faded and his tone turned more serious. “It’s actually something that’s been bothering me since our time at DiBor.” When Kirk said nothing, simply stood and waited, the helmsman continued. “One of the Perenoreans who was allowed to visit the Enterprise joined me when I was exercising. You know that I’m quite fond of the martial arts.”
Kirk gestured for him to continue. “So were some dead Romulans. Go on.”
“I was practicing fencing. Épée, specifically. This Perenorean watched for a while and then asked if I could show him how it was done. I didn’t think anything of it, and no orders had been issued forbidding that kind of interaction, so I went ahead.”
“Very accommodating of you, Mister Sulu. Is that what’s been worrying you?”
Sulu’s concern showed in his expression. “No, Captain. What bothers me is that after only a few lessons, the Perenorean was beating me. He wanted to learn how to use other edged weapons too. Everything and anything else that I could teach him.”
“I’m not surprised. The Perenoreans are a very curious species. Interested in everything. Not unlike our own.”
“I understand that, Captain. But as proud as I am of my own accomplishments in the field of martial arts, I can’t see myself ever defeating an accomplished alien in its own fighting specialties after only a brief instruction. It’s just amazing. Especially for a member of a non-warlike species. Aren’t the Perenoreans supposed to be peaceful?”
Kirk realized what was unsettling his helmsman. “Fencing is a balletic art, Mister Sulu. As physically flexible and fluid as they are, it wouldn’t surprise me if the Perenoreans have an elaborate and long-established tradition of dance, or something very much like it. Wouldn’t a dancer, and an inhumanly agile one at that, be able to pick up fencing’s technical moves more easily than an ordinary untrained human?”
The helmsman’s sudden introspection showed that he had not considered this line of reasoning. “So what you’re saying, Captain, is that some pacifistic art—dance, to use your example—might predispose an otherwise nonaggressive species toward a skill set very similar to a martial one.” Sulu found himself nodding in agreement. “That makes sense. He never said anything about being good at dance.”
The captain had had many interactions with the Perenoreans and consequently knew a little more about their culture and civilization. He did not use this to chastise Sulu for jumping to conclusions. Only insecure and morally inferior individuals used superior knowledge to dominate or embarrass the less informed. Having spent part of his life feeling inferior to just about everyone around him (except when it came to fighting and seducing), James Kirk was now the last person to lord over anyone.
“Did you ask him?”
Sulu looked surprised. “No, Captain. It never occurred to me. When the alien made his request, I assumed he was starting from zero knowledge and experience.”
Kirk chuckled. “Maybe you should have made inquiries. Who knows? The Perenoreans might have an analog to traditional human sword fighting and your eager ‘student’ might have been an expert among his kind.”
The helmsman looked abashed. “I hadn’t considered that, Captain. I might be completely wrong—but the possibility that you might be correct makes me feel better about losing
.”
Kirk clapped him on the shoulder. “Nothing more soothing to the injured ego than a comforting fiction. Don’t worry about it, Sulu. Even if your first supposition is the correct one, you have to remember that the Perenoreans are amazingly fast learners.” Turning, he resumed walking up the corridor. “Keep practicing. Maybe we’ll run into these people again and you can ask for a rematch.”
“I’ll do that, Captain. And—thank you.”
* * *
“Now what?”
Lying on the divan beside Uhura, Spock continued to gaze upward and reflect. This despite the wonderful display the ceiling was currently putting on, showing the night sky as it appeared above the brandy-colored lake of Teleris on Cuoulphon IV. The lambent stars and flaring aurora being imaged overhead could not draw his mind back to the present. Nor could the woman who was reposing supplely beside him. This was not for lack of trying. Uhura was doing her best. Eventually she gave up, sat up, and glared down at him.
“When you put your mind to something, Spock, there’s no one who can accomplish more. But when you let it wander, there’s no one further away.” Her tone softened as she rested a hand on his chest. “I can’t be with you if you’re not here. And don’t go all spatial physics on me and tell me you’re actually here or I swear I’ll slap those pointy ears right off your head.”
He blinked, looked away from the ceiling display and back to her. One hand reached up to stroke her right arm.
“I’m sorry, Nyota. Something is vexing me that I cannot shake.”
“I’m asking you again: What is going on? Maybe I can help.”
“It is kind of you to offer, but as I am still formulating my theory, I must continue to deal with it. Alone.”
She lay back down beside him. “Can you at least give me a hint?”
That, at least, he could provide without hesitation. “It involves this newly contacted species whose colonists we rescued.”
“The Perenoreans? I found them pleasant enough to be around. Charming, even, if at times a bit obsequious. They’re what’s been bothering you for days? I can’t imagine a first contact that could have gone better.”
“I know.” He let out a measured sigh. “I wish the captain had allowed me to remain. There are many questions I still would have liked to ask. However, orders are orders. I am sure the captain is correct that Starfleet would brook no further deviance from our original mission.”
She snuggled closer. “So what is it, exactly, about the Perenoreans that bothers you?”
“They are not merely fast learners; they are remarkable learners. They pick up new knowledge with unparalleled speed and ease.”
She shrugged diffidently. “How is that a bad thing? Haven’t they promised to freely share all their accumulated knowledge with us? The more knowledge they acquire, the more knowledge they have to share with us. Isn’t that why we are out here?”
“Yes. I suppose I worry unnecessarily.”
“I can confirm that, Spock. Why would you worry about them learning quickly? They’ll learn all about their new planet, and they’ll learn how to manage it fast. So what?”
He turned toward her. “It is not what they learn about their new home that concerns me, Nyota. It is what they learned during their brief visit to the Enterprise that concerns me. That, and the speed with which they learned it.”
“What? Fencing? Chess? Food preparation? I think it’s time you think about something else,” she murmured. “Maybe I can divert your thoughts to other concerns.”
Meeting her gaze directly, he pursed his lips. “A most logical supposition with which I am unprepared to argue.”
10
The urgent communication from Starfleet reached the Enterprise just short of four months into its journey. Uhura announced its arrival to a quiet, smooth-running bridge whose occupants had settled comfortably into the daily routine of running the great ship.
“Incoming call from Starfleet, Captain.” She wore a look of surprise as she turned toward the command chair. “Priority one.”
Kirk had been chatting with McCoy. The captain flashed his friend a look that said “I had a feeling this was coming,” and swiveled to face the communications station.
He had been expecting something of the kind ever since they had filed the official report on rescuing and making contact with the Perenoreans, negotiating successfully with SiBor to secure a new planet for them, and waiting to depart until the Enterprise was sure that the refugees had established themselves. From beginning to end it had been a laudable—enterprise, he thought proudly. He was feeling very pleased with himself, and looked expectantly at his communications officer.
This is it, he told himself. Maybe an official commendation for the Enterprise and a formal acknowledgment of the crew’s achievements. The medal that had been presented to him for dealing with the Romulan threat was getting lonely. It needed company.
Perhaps the delay in recognition, Kirk told himself as he waited for Uhura to bring up the transmission, was due to the need for the appropriate authorities to decide exactly how large and ornate his new commendation should be. It wouldn’t do to be too ostentatious.
But it should be a little ostentatious.
“Put it up on the main viewscreen, Lieutenant,” he instructed her grandly. The captain settled back to view the incoming communiqué. He would be unpretentious in response. Humble and self-effacing. All those things that he knew would be right and proper. He would accept the congratulations of his comrades with soft voice and modestly lowered eyes. After all, someone who had achieved so much so quickly could afford to be generous with his gratitude.
Everyone on the bridge recognized Admiral Yamashiro. Odd, Kirk mused as he studied the image. The admiral was not smiling. Furthermore, no medals or commendations of any kind lay on the desk before him. In point of fact, a rapidly deflating Kirk thought, the diminutive but wire-tough admiral appeared to be quivering with rage. At least, his mustache was.
It soon became clear that the admiral’s fury extended well beyond the short hairs that quivered above his upper lip.
“For the record: Am I speaking to James Tiberius Kirk, captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise?”
Uhura hurried to lower the incoming volume even as the automatics tried to respond. Sulu slid a little lower in his chair while Chekov edged to the right as much as possible without abandoning his station in the hope that he might succeed in moving just out of range of the bridge’s visual pickup. Spock did not move at all. But eyebrows were raised.
“Yes, Admiral.” A greatly diminished Kirk replied as authoritatively as he could. “From the tenor of your voice would I be correct in assuming that something is not right?”
“From the tenor of my voice, Captain, you may assume that Starfleet Command would like to have you keelhauled!” The admiral was visibly struggling to contain his emotions. “However, this is—regrettably for us, and fortunately for you—the wrong century for that sort of thing. As much as some of us would like to have you keelhauled. In deep space.”
Kirk blinked and leaned forward slightly. “Sir?”
“Starfleet has received an official communiqué from the government of SiBor. Although overtones in alien communications can be difficult to interpret, this one might best be described as—frantic.”
Sitting in the command chair to which he was rapidly becoming accustomed, a bewildered Kirk tried to make some sense of the admiral’s words. His sole consolation at the moment was that judging by the looks on their faces, his crew was equally baffled. He threw a quick glance toward the science station. The brief shrug a silent Spock offered by way of response was neither encouraging nor revelatory.
“ ‘Frantic,’ sir?” he managed. Sooner or later he knew he would be required to say something beyond repeating the admiral’s words.
“I would say more than frantic. Panicky would be more like it.” The grim-faced admiral folded his hands on the desk in front of him. “Starfleet has been trying to bring SiBor and it
s good-natured, hard-working people into the Federation for some time now. But as you no doubt found out, they are a cautious species. Negotiations have been protracted and delicate, but the diplomatic corps felt it was making progress.” He leaned forward to glare into his pickup. “Now all that hard work has been blown out the airlock. I’m told we’ll have to start all over again—if the SiBoronaans will let us, and if we can somehow fix this mess you and your people have created.”
Kirk sat up straighter. Accustomed to being bawled out, his natural reaction was to fight back—admiral or no admiral.
“Are we”—he hastened to correct himself—“am I being charged with something, sir?”
“Individual and collective stupidity, perhaps. I’m sure the experts in JAG are hunting for the proper charges as we speak. We’re still not sure of the extent of the problem you created. In addition to being tenuous, the SiBoronaans apparently can be frustratingly nonspecific. Also, I’m told that the more panicky they get, the more garbled their communications become. What we have been able to pick out is that they are claiming that the Federation has foisted a stealth takeover on them. A furtive coup.”
“I don’t…” Kirk’s voice steadied. What could have gone so utterly wrong in a matter of a few months? “I can’t imagine where this is coming from, sir. All we did was aid a single Perenorean colony ship. The solution we found was, I’d like to point out, advantageous to the Federation. The Perenoreans were settling down on the SiBoronaan moon. When we left the system they were cooperating fully. I can state with confidence that both species were on the best of terms.”
The admiral let him continue.
“Surely this message from SiBor can’t have anything to do with our efforts to help the Perenoreans? They showed themselves to be nonaggressive and peaceful, their gratitude to the SiBoronaans as well as to the Federation was sufficiently effusive as to border on the embarrassing.”
“I wouldn’t know,” the admiral snapped. “I’ve never met a Perenorean. But I have read both your official report and the subsequent analysis of it by Starfleet xenologists, and I admit that there is something going on here that just doesn’t make sense.” He threw up his hands. “Maybe this is a SiBoronaan idea of a joke, though from the tone of their communiqué I doubt it. Maybe it’s a simple matter of misperceptions, or cultural conflicts. All I know is that Diplomatic Corp is all over Command, and that this situation needs to be resolved immediately.” He smiled wolfishly. “That is assuming you would like to continue your career in Starfleet as a captain and not as a waste extraction engineer.”
The Unsettling Stars Page 14