by Greg Cox
“That’s very generous of you, Captain,” Tilton said.
“Hang on,” Grandle said. “Who are all these new people going to report to? I don’t have time to train a whole new crew.”
“We’re talking Starfleet personnel, Mister Grandle,” Kirk pointed out. He appreciated that the security officer didn’t like asking for help on her turf, but Kirk didn’t have time to tiptoe around Grandle’s ego. “They hardly require training to do their jobs. And as for supervising them, I believe Lieutenant Sulu is more than up to the task.”
Sulu did a double take. “Me, sir?”
“I can’t think of anyone better suited to the job, Mister Sulu,” Kirk said. In fact, the idea of leaving Sulu in charge of matters on the space station had been brewing at the back of Kirk’s mind since he’d first assembled the landing party. He was going to need Spock and McCoy and Scotty when he got to Baldur III, but Sulu had enough command training and experience to oversee the Starfleet team on loan to the station, and it would be a good preparation for the day when Sulu was given command of a ship. “Lieutenant Sulu is one of my top officers,” Kirk assured Tilton and Grandle, “who at times has taken command of the Enterprise in my absence. He has my total confidence.”
“I agree, Captain,” Spock affirmed. “A logical choice.”
To his credit, Sulu maintained a poker face, displaying no sign of doubt or trepidation at this unexpected assignment. “Thank you, Captain.” He nodded at the station’s administrators. “I look forward to working with you to keep this station running smoothly.”
Kirk noted with approval Sulu’s diplomatic phrasing. Not “restore order” or “get things under control,” but “keep this station running,” as though Grandle and company were already on top of things. Nicely handled, Hikaru.
“Wait a minute,” Grandle protested anyway. “Just who is going to be in charge of who here?”
Kirk held back to see how Sulu dealt with the woman’s attitude. He and Grandle were going to have to work together after all.
“Let’s keep it simple,” Sulu said. “Your people report to you, my people report to me, and we collaborate, along with Mister Tilton, to deal with any issues that arise. We all have the same goal after all: making sure that this station remains operational despite the excess number of travelers passing through.”
“I suppose,” Grandle said grudgingly, “but you’re fooling yourself if you think it’s going to be that easy. What about when we’re not on the same page, or when your people get in my people’s way?”
“We’re all professionals here,” Sulu said firmly. “We’ll manage.”
“And, ultimately, this is my station,” Tilton reminded all concerned. “I can settle any disputes that might arise, although I’m convinced that won’t be necessary.” His tone made it clear that he considered the debate over. “Thank you again, Captain Kirk.”
“Glad to be of service,” Kirk said. “I’ll have a full roster drawn up. And I’ll want your input when it comes to selecting your team as well, Mister Sulu.”
“Of course, Captain,” Sulu replied. “I may already have some ideas along those lines.”
“I’d be surprised if you didn’t, Lieutenant.” Kirk could tell that Sulu was anticipating the challenge ahead. “Sorry you won’t be going on to Baldur III with us, but I need you here, doing what needs to be done.”
“You can count on me, Captain.” Sulu grinned. “Just pick me up a postcard or two, and try not to forget where you left me.”
“Trust me, I’m not giving up my best helmsman. Don’t get too comfortable.”
“Honestly, Captain, I don’t see that happening.”
Two
Baldur III
“And I thought that space station was being overrun,” McCoy said. “Looks like that was just a preview of coming attractions.”
Kirk knew what Bones meant. After taking the long way around the Antares Maelstrom to arrive at Baldur III, they’d found the same congested conditions they’d encountered back at Deep Space Station S-8, but on a much larger scale. Scores of ships orbited the planet, with the geosynchronous space above the colony’s home base, now called “Jackpot City,” particularly in demand. Some ships were attempting to land at the planet’s only spaceport, while others were beaming down to remote areas of the planet in hopes of staking a claim to a rich vein of pergium before anyone else. Most of the activity was centered on a northern continent in the eastern hemisphere, where the initial discoveries had been made, but some of the newer arrivals were striking out for less picked-over climes. Viewed from the bridge, Baldur III resembled a greenish-blue orb attracting a swarm of flying insects. As Kirk understood it, more ships and prospectors were arriving every day.
“Get us a place in orbit,” Kirk ordered, “within transporter range of the city.”
“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Rick Painter responded. A slender, brown-haired man of European descent, he had taken Sulu’s place at the helm for the duration. “Might be a tight squeeze, though.”
“Try not to bump anyone’s fenders.” Kirk was anxious to beam down to the colony and meet with the local authorities. “Uhura, hail the colony and notify them of our arrival. Tell them I’m eager to assess the situation on the ground.”
“Actually, Captain,” she replied, “I’m afraid we may already have a situation on our hands. I’ve been monitoring the chatter between the ships and the spaceport, and tensions are running hot. Too many ships demanding permission to land at one time.” She gave him a worried look. “Matters are escalating.”
Kirk trusted her judgment; she wouldn’t call this to his attention unless there was serious cause for concern.
“Let me hear.”
“Aye, sir. Here’s the most pressing dispute at the moment.”
Heated voices sounded across the bridge:
“Please, Captains. You need to be patient. We’re trying to accommodate everyone as efficiently as we can, but our spaceport is only so large . . .”
“To blazes with being patient. We haven’t come all this way just to stay stuck in orbit for days. There’s pergium to be mined!”
“Wait your turn, you bullying lout. You think you can squeeze in ahead of the rest of us? My ship got here before yours. If anyone has been waiting too long to be cleared for landing, it’s me.”
“We’ll see about that. We hailed the colony first. That gives us priority!”
“Nonsense! You can’t reserve a landing pad in advance. First come, first served!”
“Please, Captains, you both need to be reasonable about this. Our facilities are overtaxed. We’re doing the best we can.”
“That’s not good enough! I demand to be allowed to land. And you, in your pathetic excuse for a spacecraft, don’t even think about trying to land before us.”
“Or what? I’ll have you know I don’t respond well to threats.”
“Is that supposed to intimidate me? I’ll put my ship up against yours any time.”
“I’ve heard enough,” Kirk said. “Patch me into that frequency.”
Uhura nodded at her post. “Done, sir.”
“Attention, Captains. This is Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise. You’ll forgive me for breaking into this discussion, but matters are obviously getting out of hand. Please refrain from any further saber rattling and comply with the directions from the spaceport, which, frankly, would be in their rights to turn both of you away at this point.” He closed the channel.
McCoy chuckled as he leaned against a railing. “Not mincing words, are you, Jim.”
“I am being the very model of diplomacy . . . under the circumstances.”
“They’re responding, Captain,” Uhura alerted him. “And they’re not happy.”
“Why am I not surprised? On-screen.”
“Aye, sir.”
An orbital view of Baldur III was replaced by a split screen displaying the head and shoulders of both the feuding captains. On the left: a jowly male Tellarite visibly bristlin
g with indignation; on the right: a female Andorian with a look of icy disdain on her pale blue countenance. Her antennae quivered irritably.
“Oh, brother,” McCoy muttered.
Just our luck, Kirk thought. Despite being founding members of the United Federation of Planets, Tellarites and Andorians mixed about as well as matter and antimatter. He should have known he’d find a couple of them locking horns in this competitive atmosphere.
“Mind your own business, Enterprise,” the Tellarite said, wasting no time going on the offensive. “Starfleet has no authority here.”
“To the contrary,” Kirk replied. “We are here by express invitation of the Baldur III colony to help maintain order during the current influx of new arrivals. And exchanges like I just overheard are not making my job any easier.”
“Inconveniencing you is hardly our concern,” the Andorian said. “These delays were unacceptable to begin with, and are not made less so by certain other parties attempting to barge ahead of us. We may not be as boorishly bellicose as a Tellarite, but we will not be shoved aside with impunity.”
“Who are you calling a boar, you stuck-up icicle,” said the Tellarite. “You can take your Andorian attitude and—”
“Captains!” Kirk interrupted. “Squabbling like this is not going to land either of your ships any faster.”
“It will get my ship down to the surface before hers.” The Tellarite stamped a hoof audibly. “That’s good enough for me!”
The Andorian’s antennae recoiled in disgust. “Spoken like a snout-faced ruffian accustomed to trampling over anything resembling proper manners and decency.”
“That’s quite enough, both of you,” Kirk said. “Get control of your tempers and let the space-traffic controllers down on the planet do their jobs.”
“Thank you, Captain Kirk,” a voice from planetside said. “We appreciate your intervention. We ask that all visitors abide by our rules and protocols—”
“Or what?” the Tellarite said with a snort.
“Don’t test me,” Kirk said. “If I have to play traffic cop, I will.”
He wondered how many vessels in orbit around the planet were listening to the exchange. This wasn’t exactly a secure channel. He could well be playing to a sizable audience, which meant he couldn’t afford to back down.
“This is getting me nowhere,” the Tellarite said. “I’m landing now, with or without anyone’s permission.”
“Not before me,” the Andorian shot back. “Enjoy choking on my thrusters!”
Both captains abruptly cut off their transmissions, vanishing from the viewscreen.
“Uhura,” Kirk barked. “Get them back.”
“I’m trying, sir, but they’re not responding.”
Spock looked up from the scope at his station. “The Tellarite vessel is indeed breaking orbit, as is its Andorian counterpart.”
“Show me.”
The ships in question appeared on the screen. Both were civilian vessels, considerably smaller and less impressive than the Enterprise. Kirk’s blood pressure rose as he watched them descend toward the planet’s surface, weaving back and forth and leapfrogging past each other in their haste to get to the surface first, despite frantic injunctions from the spaceport to return to their original positions. Kirk had no idea where they thought they were going to land unless they thought that the spaceport would somehow find room for them if they had to. Or perhaps they intended to touch down on the first available plain or clearing? As Kirk understood it, most of the vicinity around Jackpot City was densely forested.
“Time to show them that there’s a new sheriff in town,” Kirk said. “Mister Chekov, fire warning shots across their bows.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Chekov acted with commendable speed and accuracy. Within moments, a coruscating azure beam zipped between the racing ships, forcing both of them to abruptly alter course to avoid flying into the incandescent ray that cut through the vacuum like a flaming sword before harmlessly impacting with the planet’s atmosphere, where it turned some high-altitude clouds into steam.
“You came rather close to the prow of the Andorian vessel,” Spock observed, “for a warning shot, that is.”
“Just trying to make them listen to the captain, sir.”
“I admire the enthusiasm, Ensign,” Kirk said, “but let’s not get carried away. We want to show our teeth, not actually bite anyone . . . if we can avoid it.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Chekov answered. “Understood, sir.”
The ensign’s sharpshooting got the other captains’ attention. Both the Tellarite and the Andorian reappeared upon the main viewer, looking even more irate than before.
“Have you lost your mind, Kirk?” the Tellarite bellowed.
“You had no call to fire upon my ship!” the Andorian said. “That beam missed my ship by meters!”
“If anyone is acting irrationally here, it’s not me,” Kirk said. “And, from now on, this is very much my call. Now get back in line before I have to demonstrate exactly what a Constitution-class starship is capable of.”
In a very real sense, he was holding a winning hand here. Neither of the two transports stood a chance against the Enterprise and they both knew it. The only question was whether one or both of the rebellious captains were defiant enough to push their luck regardless.
“Don’t think I’m bluffing,” he advised. “I’m more than willing to disable both your vessels if necessary.”
And that went for anyone else listening in.
“This isn’t over, Kirk.” The Tellarite gnashed his tusks. “Just wait until my government hears about this!”
“Object all you want. I’m sure they’ll be delighted to hear all about how you threatened a vessel registered to another member of the Federation. And that goes for you too,” Kirk said, addressing the Andorian captain. “Your hostile transmissions are a matter of record.”
“No need to make a galactic case out of it,” she said. “There wouldn’t even be a problem if the authorities on Baldur III weren’t so woefully unprepared.”
“Exactly!” the Tellarite blustered. “Straighten this sty out, Kirk, if that’s what you’re here for!”
They signed off abruptly, racing to get the last word.
“Congratulations, Jim,” McCoy said. “You just got an Andorian and a Tellarite to agree with each other. Will wonders never cease.”
“Sensors confirm that the rival ships are returning to their original orbits,” Spock said. “Somewhat surprisingly, the other ships are allowing them to do so rather than seizing the opportunity to claim those positions for themselves.”
“I’m not surprised,” McCoy said. “Seems to me the captain just made quite a first impression. I wouldn’t want to cross him either.”
“I can vouch for that,” Uhura stated. “I’m picking up lots of chatter about the way you handled that situation, Captain.”
“Good,” Kirk said. “Let’s hope that impression sticks.”
It occurred to him that the rancorous captains may have done him a favor by providing him with an opportunity to lay down the law right away. With luck, that altercation would pay off in the long run, discouraging any other ships from taking matters into their own hands.
“One has to wonder, though,” McCoy said. “If it’s this bad up here, what it’s like down there?”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” Kirk confessed.
Three
Deep Space Station S-8
A full-on brawl was underway in a general store on the promenade. Rival space travelers and prospective prospectors had turned the mercantile establishment into a melee. Fists, fur, and feathers flew as an impressively diverse mob of upset customers tore into each other, making Sulu glad that unauthorized phasers and disruptors were not allowed in the public areas of the station. He and Grandle and their respective security teams arrived on the scene only moments after receiving an alarm. Sulu had six crew members backing him up. Grandle had two.
&nbs
p; “Welcome to my life these days,” the security chief said. “You ready to get your hands dirty?”
“Lead the way,” Sulu replied.
Even though his team outnumbered Grandle’s, Sulu deferred to her in the interests of collegiality. The way he saw it, he and the crew members from the Enterprise were here to provide backup and support, not to butt heads with the station staff.
Let Grandle call the shots for now.
The mixed security force waded into the fray, intent on separating the combatants, which proved easier said than done. The mere arrival of the authorities did nothing to abate the pandemonium, which continued as though nothing had changed. Bodies slammed into counters and shelves and display cases, many of which, Sulu noted, looked woefully picked over. A few less bellicose customers were squeezed into corners, trying their best to stay out of the brawl while waiting for an opening to dash out of the store. Hand-to-hand combat was the order of the day, with some prehensile tails, trunks, and tentacles added to the mix. Sulu ducked as a small gold-skinned Ithenite flew over his head after being flung by a red-faced bruiser who looked big enough to have some Vegan blood in him. The Ithenite crashed into a force field protecting a case of valuable merchandise, causing the field to flash and crackle from the impact. Slams, crashes, grunts, and curses competed with the Antarian muzak playing in the background. Exotic profanities blistered Sulu’s ears.
“That’s enough!” Grandle shouted over the hubbub. She clambered onto a large circular counter at the center of the store the better to be seen and heard. “Break it up!”
Her commands fell on deaf ears and antennae, forcing Sulu and the others to resort to more physical forms of persuasion, while dodging punches and blocking blows thrown in their direction. Sulu was half tempted to stun the whole mob and sort them out later, but that would be unfair to any innocent bystanders caught up in the chaos. An angry Bolian, his blue face flushed all the way to indigo, hurled a can of unsequenced protein at Sulu, who ducked just in time to avoid a broken nose. The can crashed into a bare display case behind him.