-1-
"Do you have it now, Sensor Chief?" Hss'Grrsss said, keeping most of his compound eyes focused on the heads-up display of his command headset.
"Yes," the sensor chief replied.
"Good. Monitor and report," Hss'Grrsss commanded. Ocular sensors mounted into his head-set picked up the shift in the focus of his compound eyes, highlighting the words forward view. A tap of a large finger on the enable button of the command chair gave the computer its orders, changing the display on the inner surface of the dark-tinted face plate from sensors, to what was actually in front of the Gorn dreadnought.
The room that held the nexus of control for the cruiser Rrall'Riss was circular, its walls filled with computers and ship's artificial intelligence. The conspicuous absence of a viewscreen went unnoticed by those seated in the heavy chairs, their helmet visors giving them all they needed to see to guide the starship through the cosmos. There was very little movement on the bridge--a tap of a finger, or the slight tilt of a head. The growling/hiss of Gornian passed between the bridge crew, mixing with the whistles and beeps of the electronics.
The Gorn were a species of very strong, slow-moving, heavily-boned, reptilian bipeds, their massive cerebral functions dedicated mainly to thought and speech. Their intelligence--quick and nimble--was in sharp contrast to their body.
Yet the Gorn, with all their cerebral prowess, would never have achieved starflight; their features were just too massive, their fingers unable to attain the dexterity needed to build even the most basic electronics needed. It had been a chance encounter with the Medusans that had led to an on-going friendship and technological exchange that had made this possible. The cost to the Gorn had been six habitable worlds. A heavy price, but a wise investment. The Gorn Confederation now encompassed much more than that.
Hss'Grrsss concentrated on what he was seeing in the heads-up display. The last star, a traveler of the galaxy's fringe darkness, passed off its left side, leaving the forward view featureless.
"Has the pattern of subspace interference changed?" Hss'Grrsss asked, not bothering to shift his body to look at the comm-tech.
"No, Leader. They maintain the same regularity the sensors of the Nest world picked up three cycles ago," the comm-tech responded.
"Arhhh'ssss," Hss'Grrsss growled, puzzlement seething through his great intellect. Is this some sort of Klingon trick? he thought. He dismissed the assumption. They were too far from that disputed border.
He looked at the magnification area of the visor/screen, and it became highlighted. A set of his eyes' lenses glanced at the up-arrow, and the magnification rose. He tapped the enable button on the chair, and the view on his heads-up shifted.
At extreme magnification, a seething ribbon of orange, yellow and red bands appeared. It resembled a long, thin, iridescent dust cloud, incapable of slowing their progress. Experience told Hss'Grrsss different. This was the visible portion of a wall of pure negative energy that encased the entire galaxy. Gorn scientists theorized that the Galactic Barrier was the remnant of the immense energy wave produced by the galaxy's explosive birth, billions of years ago.
Hss'Grrsss didn't really care what it was, or how it had gotten there, he only knew there weren't any starships powerful enough to go through yet, nor could he figure out why they would want to. There wasn't anything to see, travel to, or conquer for millions of lightyears beyond it. Besides, their mission in this area didn't have anything to do with going through the barrier. They were to investigate an anomaly discovered on this side.
The barrier continuously emitted radiation on all known frequencies, at a constant volume. Fortunately, the white noise it produced was only a problem if you passed within a lightyear of it, quickly dropping off into the background the further away you got. Listening stations in the Nest system had reported unexplained subspace surges emanating from a single point along its inside edge. Hunt Central monitoring posts had confirmed this.
That was why he and his hunt group had diverted from their normal patrol duties. A quick glance, and the heads-up display changed from the forward view to a computer message format. He reviewed the mission data. Hss'Grrsss understood now why the Gorn High Assembly had become concerned. The situation smelled badly of Orions. The recently enacted treaty between the Gorn Confederation, the Federation and the Orion's Barrier Alliance had brought peace, but it wouldn't surprise Hss'Grrsss to discover an unofficial Orion raiding party waiting for him ahead. Or Klingons...
"Communications, order all ships to subspace silence," Hss'Grrsss ordered. This would be the last message that would pass between his ship and the three others in his hunt until after they'd ascertained what was going on up ahead.
*****
Near the inside edge of the barrier, powerful subspace receivers intercepted the message. A tentacle reached over, twisted a knob that realigned his forward visual pick-ups so he could see the approach of the group of ships they'd been monitoring for quite some time now.
The four starships came into view, their form silhouetted sharply against the brilliant back ground of the galaxy's densely populated central hub. The ships were three oblong spheres connected at the ends. The construct's design reminded the commander of the chains many micro-organisms formed as they multiplied. The two tubes that ran along the top and bottom of each ship were the warp propulsion system, but the technology was far below that which drove even the smallest ship of his armada.
He had known from the moment they had started to cross the barrier that the Gorn would be coming. Intelligence reports told of the Gorn's ability to pick up the subspace radio surge each invading ship produced during its transit of the negative energy field. The same source of information described the Gorn as aggressive and especially intolerant of foreign intrusion.
The passage through the barrier had been hampered by a telepathogenic lifeform which resided in the negative energy field. Never more than an annoyance, his superior mental prowess had destroyed the Ph'ecdalyns utterly and completely, providing him with a brief source of amusement after the long, boring trip through intergalactic space.
The Intruder commander made a deep chortling noise. His force was already two hundred and fifty times the size of the Gorn group, and deployed, ready to meet the challenge. This looked to be even more amusing.
*****
"Are the power surges at the barrier still occurring?" Hss'Grrsss asked, hoping they were. It would be a shame to travel this far only to find nothing.
"Yes, sir."
"Can we see what's causing it?"
The sensor chief responded without moving. "Visually, at extreme magnification. There is something, but it's still too hard to discern what they are. I could use active sensors, but that might attract their attention."
"Agreed. Maintain visual search only," Hss'Grrsss ordered.
Hss'Grrsss returned his heads-up to his ship's forward view. Let's have a look. The heads-up changed. The galactic barrier formed across it in all its magnificence and brilliance.
"Rrrahhsss," Hss'Grrsss flinched, multiple clusters of his compound eyes shutting down to protect the optic nerve. Ordering the display dimmed, he could finally look at it. At first, there was nothing. Dimming the visor one additional step revealed their objective.
A large cluster of sparkling objects held positions right in the middle of the barrier's expanse. His imagination compared them to white dwarf stars caught in a Tholian web. In the middle of the mass was a ship so large that Hss'Grrsss estimated it could hold all the others inside.
Preceded by the now familiar surge of radio noise, a dark shadow appeared just inside the surface of the barrier. A final pop signaled the entry of a new object into galactic space.
"Computer, how many of those objects are there?" Hss'Grrsss was becoming more than a little concerned about how this situation was developing.
The computer's metallic voice quickly returned an answer that added to his uneasiness. "There are nine hundred sixty-five objects detected by visual scanning."
"Can you identify them?" Hss'Grrsss asked.
"Not at this range," the computer responded.
*****
The Gorn ships were within range. Now they would capture them. The Intruder commander gave his orders, and his forces moved. Two sections of fighters broke away, forming into two long fingers reaching along the Gorn flanks.
An orifice, nearly the same width as the Intruder commander's huge mass, opened, revealing a complete set of jagged teeth, allowing predigestive juices to run down his body. I hope we can capture them without too much damage, he thought. I grow tired of the replicated garbage I have been eating since I dropped from my parent. He had only his parent's memories of what fresh food was like, but it was enough for him to anticipate it in the future.
*****
"Rrrahhsss," the sensor chief broke the silence of the Rrall'Riss' bridge with a warning sound.
"What?" Hss'Grrsss queried.
"They're flanking us, Leader."
Hss'Grrsss' great intellect reacted quickly to the changing situation. He brought new commands and orders up on the heads-up, enabling each in turn. A discordant chime echoed through the Rrall'Riss' corridors. Gorn moved slowly to their stations and came on-line.
Hss'Grrsss changed the view on his visor from real-time to tactical. The other three ships were reporting their readiness to mirror his ship's moves. Changing the heading in his visor to two-three-four point three-two-two, his ship changed course. The rest of the hunt changed as well, on a heading that would take them under the line of Intruder vessels on their right flank, setting them up for a clean belly shot.
While his hunt closed on the Intruder line, he turned to look at the communication officer. "Send everything to headquarters."
"Impossible, sir," the officer responded. "They're jamming on all frequencies. We can only communicate with the others in the hunt."
"Ahh'hssss," Hss'Grrsss cursed. His visor told him that the Intruders were reacting to his move by moving back in front of them and spreading out like a huge fishing net.
"The second flanking force is coming in from behind," the sensor chief reported. "They're in the same dome formation."
The tactical screen on Hss'Grrsss' visor showed him what had happened. The edges of the Intruder formations were cupping in and were even now coming together, forming a great sphere. "How soon till complete envelopment?" he asked the sensor chief.
"Three cycles."
He discarded his initial plan, and after a moment of thought, set a new plan into action. "Adjutant, signal the group to proceed with battle maneuver two. Sensor Chief, scan the enemy ships. I need to know who my enemy is and what his capabilities are."
"Yes, Leader." The sensor chief powered up his arrays, reporting as the readings came onto his screen. "The enemy ship is a spherical structure with two antimatter nacelles attached at the equator. The engines show a few differences in design. Their defense shields are similar, with a frequency shift that might make them harder to penetrate. I don't have enough data to make a precise analysis."
Hss'Grrsss absorbed the information, but one piece of the puzzle was missing. "What kind of weapons do they use?"
The sensor chief returned to his computer analysis for a moment. "Unable to tell until they fire on us." A warning buzzer sounded, and he returned his attention to his visor for a moment, his finger tapping the enable button in quick succession. "They have armed and locked all weapons, Leader. Sensors indicate two types: a coherent beam resembling a disruptor, much more powerful than anything we've encountered before. A torpedo launcher, a plasma projectile, power level and guidance still unknown."
The two domes came together, completing the encirclement of the Gorn hunt. With agonizing slowness, it began to constrict on them. The Intruder ship in the center of the right side fired. A crimson tracer appeared as a single plasma torpedo flashed through the shrinking space between it and the Rrall'Riss.
All four Gorn ships spotted the incoming weapon and evaded. It missed the hunt's command ship by nearly a thousand kilometers. The warhead's proximity fuse detonated the plasma, shaking the Rrall'Riss savagely.
The entire right side of the encircling sphere erupted in torpedoes. Every ship in the Gorn hunt suffered direct hits. One so often that it blossomed immediately into a flower of consuming antimatter fire.
*****
"I want them taken alive," the armada commander's mental voice boomed through the subspace frequencies. "Disable, not destroy. Attack pattern: scramble. Use the disruptors." What a waste of protein and information,he thought angrily, his entire digestive track growling.
Once the disruptors have worn down their defensive shields, I'll move the support/assault ship within range of the tractor beam. When they are inside my bays, we can contain them, the Intruder commander thought as half the fighters in the sphere broke from the encircling formation and attacked. "Bring my ship within range of the energy dampening field," he ordered. My fighters need the practice, but, just in case these animals prove more capable than expected, I'll be ready.
The assault ship, immense and powerful, moved from the inner edge of the barrier, taking station just behind the reserve fighters of the spherical formation.
*****
I've already lost a ship, and I haven't even fired yet, Hss'Grrsss thought as a cloud of fighters descended on his ships.
"Torpedoes have a lock," reported the weapons officer.
"Fire," ordered Hss'Grrsss. That certainly will change, he thought. "Lock disruptors as well."
The Rrall'Riss shuddered with the launch of its first weapon, followed quickly by the launch of a second. They streaked away, their blue tracer marking their paths. Six more joined them as the other Gorn ships fired. There were six brilliant flashes and the arcing of energy released by the matter/antimatter explosions.
To Hss'Grrsss' surprise, the fighters flew through it, unscathed and apparently unharmed, still on course for his group of cruisers, their shields not showing the least signs of stress. We must concentrate our fires, he thought. Whoever they are, they have superior technology if they can mount such impressive shielding on craft so small.
The Intruder fighters began firing. Pulses of coherent energy struck the Rrall'Riss and her sisters, shaking them.
"Fire disruptors!" Hss'Grrsss ordered, figuring if they could hit him, he could hit them back, and wondering why his weapons officer hadn't reported lock yet.
"We cannot, Leader. They're still out of range," the officer replied.
"Ahhrrssss," the leader cursed. Their disruptors have a longer range as well, he thought, trying to figure out what to do next as his ship shuddered. The shields of the Gorn ships were already showing the stress, glowing a dull red.
At least they're not using their torpedoes any more, Hss'Grrsss observed to himself, then made the connection. "They're trying to capture us."
"That would fit the pattern of their attack, Leader," his adjutant reported. "They are targeting Engineering."
"Increase shield strength to those areas," Hss'Grrsss ordered, his mind already processing this. We can use this against them, he thought, and make good an escape. He was no longer considering whether they could win this battle. As long as they use only disruptors and have nothing better up their sleeves.
Focusing one of his compound eye lenses onto the course block of his visor, he automatically lit it, changing the course so the hunt would turn and head back the way they'd come. A tap on the enable button made the change, and the ship turned, followed closely by the others. He highlighted Warp Eight and enabled. The hunt disengaged from the fighters, surprising them in the suddenness of the maneuver, leaving them behind.
*****
"Our prey are entirely without means," the Intruder commander said as he watched his prey try to escape. A tentacle reached forward and powered up a subspace transmitter. "Match speed and follow. Those in front, delay them until I can reach you."
He expected no response. Fighters, only recently engaged with the Gorn, sped off in pursuit. Those still in front of the Gorn, attempted to maintain that position.
They're not good enough yet, thought the commander, assessing the combat skills of his fighter pilots. I think they'll get more practice now that we've finally arrived. This galaxy will be ours, just as the one we left behind had been.
*****
"Status," Hss'Grrsss queried.
"The attackers are pursuing," the sensor chief responded. "We are approaching the ships of the encirclement. They are responding to our maneuver, matching our speed."
"We are only just barely overtaking them," his adjutant concluded.
An Intruder fighter appeared on Hss'Grrsss' visor, back-peddling in front of his dreadnought. A flash of coherent energy, and a shudder that could be felt through the frame of his ship told him where the beam had struck.
Staring at the single fighter and wondering at its arrogance, Hss'Grrsss thought, We haven't a chance. They outgun us. The sensor window on his visor showed him that the entire group of fighters was now passing his ships on the flanks and would soon join forces with the one in front of them. They're faster, and their shields are stronger. He noted that the blocking fighter had allowed itself to get within range of his ship's weapons. Let's see how good their shields really are, and if they've the belly to fight a cornered Gorn.
Concentrating on the tactical window on his visor, he brought the icons that represented the other two ships in his group up even with his--standard Gorn attack line. A tap on the enable button sent the signal. Hss'Grrsss saw the other two dreadnoughts move up in response to his orders.
Shifting his attention to the attack window, he targeted the lone fighter in front of them, reserving all three ship's weapons for it. A tap of his finger sent it to the heads-up displays of the weapons crews' heads-ups on all three ships.
A green light next to the targeting window indicated the hunt's weapon readiness. He looked at the FIRE prompt and enabled. Every available weapon of the Gorn hunt fired.
Enveloped in disruptor energy, the Intruder fighter's shields began to glow. The torpedoes struck, adding their annihilating energy to the attack. The fighter's shields escalated quickly to near breaking, glowing a brilliant purple, but still held.
"Ahhrrrssss!" Hss'Grrsss growled. We just hit it with enough energy to destroy a Federation destroyer, and it still exists!
The targeted fighter, seemingly unaffected by the intense attack it was receiving, fired a torpedo and hit the Rrall'Riss' right wing ship, nearly buckling its shields.
"Leader, the rest of the Intruders are nearly in front of us," a voice said.
"I see them, Adjutant," Hss'Grrsss responded, recognizing the source, "but we must make an example of this one so they don't think themselves untouchable."
The fighter's shields were already recovering, cooling to a faint yellow shade.
Hss'Grrsss saw the green light appear next to the weapons window. FIRE.
The next volley enveloped the fighter. Its shields held under the disruptors, but, with the impact of the first torpedo, they buckled. The other two torpedoes struck its exposed skin, exploding, tearing great chunks of metal and material away. But the fighter still lived, back-peddling in front of them, firing its disruptors.
FIRE.
The Gorn ships fired a third volley. The unshielded fighter disappeared.
"Yessss," growled Hss'Grrsss. Hisses and growls of approval filled the air of the bridge. "They can be hurt," he said aloud. But at what cost? he wondered.
A new Intruder fighter moved into position in front of his group. Then another, and yet another. Groups of fighters took up positions on all four flanks--right, left, up and down, then closed up behind them as well. Their disruptors began firing, pulsing non-stop.
The Rrall'Riss' shields held, but were slowly being weakened to dangerously low levels. Her sister ships were in no better condition.
*****
"Good work, fighters," the Intruder commander signaled. "Stand by; I'm almost in position."
His massive assault ship had already gained a position in front of the remaining Gorn ships and was waiting. He watched his fighters continue to harry the prey, holding their attentions away from him until it was too late.
"Ready tractors and energy dampening field," his mind's voice boomed telepathically.
Two sets of projectors came alive on the assault ship as she readied herself to receive the Gorn.
*****
"Shields are nearing collapse, Leader," the engineer roared, trying to be heard over the scream of tortured and exploding circuits.
"I know," Hss'Grrsss roared back. He saw his ships firing in the heads-up, but it was sporadic, uncoordinated, and doing no appreciable harm to the circling fighters.
There was an immense explosion somewhere below his feet, and his heads-up went blank. Removing the now useless piece of technology from his head, he stood. Similar actions by the rest of his bridge crew showed him that the bridge's entire computer net was out. Half the ship's shields had just buckled.
"We must move to Engineering and resume control there." Hss'Grrsss strode off slowly, entering the main corridor that led the full length of the ship to Engineering. His bridge crew followed.
Explosions and electronic screams echoed from points throughout the ship as they walked. They entered Alternate Control and found it still functional. Donning the head-sets, they prepared to continue the fight. Then everything became silent.
"What?" Hss'Grrsss queried. The headset's heads-up showed him an aft-view. There were fighters there, but they were remaining out of range. He reset the angle to the sides and found the same thing. Then he got the forward view. What he saw shocked him to immobility.
A jolt rocked the ship as a giant hand caught hold of it and yanked it onto a new heading, knocking Hss'Grrsss and his bridge crew from their feet.
Everything electric went off, allowing darkness and silence to rule the ship.
*****
"The tractor beam has them, Progenitor," a mental voice reported to the Intruder commander.
"Yes, I see," he answered, watching the beams pull the prey toward the waiting maws of his docking bays. The whine of a new set of electronics and the splash of energy on the captured ships told him that the dampening field was in place as well. All visual evidence of life and power disappeared from them.
Let a failing atmosphere weaken them. Then we'll take them, he thought as the three ships disappeared from the angle of his viewer. His gut grumbled and saliva dripped from his mouth as he anticipated what would come next. Turning, he moved his immense form toward the lift that would take him to the docking bays. A cloud of tentacles wove about the top of his body, quavering with anticipation.
He got there just as the tractor beam left the tri-spherical ships sitting on the floor of the docking bay, dwarfed by the size of the cavernous room. Atmosphere returned to the bay, and he entered. Hundreds of others just like him moved in to surround the ships. They waited patiently.
"Life signs are ebbing, sire," reported a mental voice.
"Reduce and transport," ordered the commander.
A new set of electronic whines filled the air of the bay. A transport beam snapped down from the roof of the bay, leaving a stack of polyhedrals next to each ship. The commander moved forward, picked up one off the top and set it to one side. A tentacle pushed a button on a small box attached to a belt around his middle. A series of lights blinked, and the polyhedral transformed into a seven foot tall, armored, reptiloid. The prey looked around, began to move, but a twist of the same button, and a push froze him in his place, his entire voluntary muscle system bypassed.
The commander reached out with his powerful mind and entered that of his prey. He heard and felt the scream of terror the rape caused. It was immensely satisfactory. He stayed long enough to find out that this was not the commander and that they called themselves Gorn.
"You take that one, progeny," he ordered a smaller version of himself resting nearby, anticipation showing both in the puddle of drool on the floor and the excited weaving of the tentacles. This one had dropped from him not long ago, his first budding. "Report on what you learn."
"Yes, One-Who-Made-Me," the young one exclaimed excitedly as one of his tentacles wrapped itself around the waist of the Gorn. With an ease that spoke of great strength already, the young one lifted the reptilian off his feet. Two more tentacles latched on and turned the Gorn over. Though released from the nerve control device, the Gorn did nothing to stop what was happening, his mind still reeling from the telepathic rape. The progeny brought the reptillian easily to his waiting mouth, head first. The mouth closed, teeth cutting through flesh and bone easily. Blood mixed freely with the drool as the youngster caught everything that fell from the emptying body. "I am processing, One-Who-Made-Me."
The commander acknowledged the youngster's report, noting the subliminal messages of pleasure the fresh food was producing in him. Now, having processed the patterns of the Gorn mind, the commander scanned each polyhedral still on the floor until he found what he was looking for, the patterns of command. Picking it up, he placed it on the floor in front of him and activated the control box.
*****
It had been dark, and he'd been suffocating. Now Hss'Grrsss stood in a brilliant light, his compound eyes attempting to adjust to the rapid change. His first sight was that of a cloud of tentacles stripping the remnants of the armor from one of his crew and stuffing the decapitated body into its mouth. The sickening sound of breaking bones followed. Then he found himself surrounded by similar tentacles and lifted from the ground. He tried to resist, but found he could not move.
"You are Leader," the intruder commander projected.
Hss'Grrsss flinched under the volume of the voice, not realizing that the sound wasn't physical, but mental. He tried to answer, though the power of the tentacle made it hard, "Yesss, I lead." He flinched again as the voice returned, his head pounding under the onslaught.
"I am Commander of the First Armada of the Kelvan Empire. Your species will serve us."
Hss'Grrsss knew this wasn't a question, or a command; it was a statement of fact. He looked around for what he felt instinctively would be the last time. Hundreds, maybe thousands of these creatures filled the bay around his ships. There were piles of polyhedrals next to each. He watched a Kelvan pick one up and set it down. There was the sound of a small electronic gong, and the polyhedral turned into a member of his hunt. The Kelvan snatched up the crew member and consumed him, quickly and efficiently, no body fluids lost to the floor. He knew this was to be his fate soon and faced his captor.
"You know now how," the commander told his prey.
Hss'Grrsss knew there was only one way he could respond. He bit the tentacle wrapped around his waist. His teeth serrated the tissue, cutting all the way through. Kelvan blood gushed into his mouth, but he didn't swallow, letting it fall to the floor.
"You little scurry," the commander roared.
Hss'Grrsss reeled under the mental voice's volume. He felt two more bands of muscle surround him, this time one around his neck. The last thing he saw was the gaping mouth and the teeth that waited.
-2-
The Federation heavy cruiser, U.S.S. Enterprise, its gleaming white shape distorted by its faster-than-light velocity, streaked through the vast expanses. The mighty starship's destination was a yellow dwarf star, just a small light amongst millions. Known by many names--Q'Ratzoah, Forlyn, Tu'lunn--those living on the star's third planet fondly called it, "Sol."
The crew was looking forward to their arrival at Earth. . Now, they would be allowed to take any leave they had accrued during which time the Enterprise would be put through more refits. The U.S.S. Enterprise, NCC-1701-A, had clearly been rushed into production, and with that came a number of systemic problems.
Captain James T. Kirk had received orders that he would be given an unprecedented third tour as its commander. The crew's not the only ones looking forward to returning home, thought Kirk, it'll be good to visit the old homestead. Iowa will be pleasantly snowy this time of year. A dark cloud formed as he remembered the fire that had destroyed his family's home that terrible winter a few years ago and the death of his mother soon thereafter. He'd have to make a point of visiting her grave while he was there.
A new thought brightened his countenance as he remembered an event that was about to happen at the Academy: Mid-Year Graduation. "Captain Spock, how many ship's crews did you say were going to be at Starfleet?" Kirk asked.
"Thirty, sir. Would you like me to read the list?" Spock responded, dead pan.
"No, Spock. That won't be necessary. I'll review it later, thank you."
"There is one ship I think will be of special interest to you, sir." Spock didn't wait for Kirk to respond. "The U.S.S. Samson."
That's the ship Kelsey's on, thought Kirk as he acknowledged Spock's information with a nod and a smile. Lieutenant Commander Shaun Kelsey had begun his career on the Enterprise as an ensign fresh out of the Academy, and had become a protegé to Kirk, just as Hikaru Sulu, Pavel Chekov and David Garrovick had been.
The captain turned as Doctor McCoy entered the bridge. The ship's surgeon was carrying one of the newly developed padds. Kirk guessed it probably contained the report he'd asked for. He worried about his old friend and advisor, because the doctor had aged somewhat in this last sojourn, and his once scalpel-sharp mind wandered a bit. It wasn't unusual to see him staring off into space, a vacant look in his eyes. Bearing Spock's katra had taken a toll, and even though that was four years ago, he knew the doctor was still affected by the ordeal.
"Here's my list of those who will need liberty," McCoy said in his best official voice.
Kirk looked at the list and noted that his name was near the top. He was about to protest when McCoy cut him off. "Based on my latest psychological studies, it is my opinion that if those crewmen do not get an extended liberty while we're here, they will become liabilities to this ship, Captain." The doctor gave him one of those don't-even-try-it looks.
Since it was inevitable, and Kirk had already decided to get away for awhile anyway, his only problem now was finding someplace to go on his liberty. There weren't many places he could go that didn't come with disturbing memories. "Mister Riley, plot a course for SpaceDock."
After conferring with Commander Chekov, the ship's navigator, Commander Riley punched in the course changes necessary to complete the captain's wishes. "Plotted and locked in, sir." He turned back to Chekov and continued, "It's sure good to be back. I'm looking forward to visiting the space yards."
Rated as one of the best helmsmen in Starfleet, Commander Kevin Riley had filled Commander Sulu's open slot on the ship's roster six months ago, right after Sulu had accepted command of the Cooper. He had grown a beard during his time as first officer of the Daredevil, an intelligence gathering patrol ship. Now Riley was one of the most eligible officers for command. It was possible that the long-awaited promotion to captain and command of a ship might await him in the ship yards.
"Hey, Pav. Let's go and check out that new spot on the bay once we settle this ol' girl in," Riley continued. "Scuttlebutt is it's the hottest place in the Old City."
"Sure, Kevin. That sounds great. This time, though, let's leave the Romulan Ale alone. I lost a vweek of my life the last time." Chekov shook his head sorrowfully after he responded.
Commander Pavel Chekov still hadn't lost his Russian accent. Like Scott, it made him different, and that was precisely why he kept it. Chekov had no stomach for command. He'd served as executive officer for three different captains, and all three had died tragically. After Captain Matterson's death, he'd requested a return to the Enterprise. Kirk pulled strings to see it was granted, hoping that after a time back aboard the starship, the young man would again request an executive posting. In fact, Chekov had turned one down already. Sulu had been hurt, but understood his friend's reluctance. The exec posting on the Cooper had gone to Lieutenant Commander Xon instead.
A spark appeared in Riley's eye. "Well, boy-o, I think you did quite well last time. You impressed the lasses with your gymnastics, especially when you did that full gainer off the bar and without losing the lamp shade on your head!"
"Girls? Vwhat girls? Lamp shade? I still don't believe everything you told me about that night." Chekov looked worriedly around, wondering who might be listening in to this conversation.
Riley's gave Chekov a sly look, then chuckled.
Turning from her communications panel, Commander Uhura addressed the captain, "Sir, Starfleet sends their respects, and Admiral Cartwright requests your presence in his office as soon as the Enterprise is secure."
"Thank you, Uhura. Acknowledge." Kirk grew pensive, I wonder what that's all about. He didn't have what one might call "a close, working relationship" with Admiral Moses Cartwright. The fact was he didn't like the man at all.
Commander Penda Nyota Uhura was still as beautiful as ever, or so it seemed to Kirk. Though the years had done their best to wear her down, to him she had done a good job of thwarting "Ol' Pappy Time," as McCoy called it. She still turned the occasional head when she walked down a corridor, and Kirk wasn't immune, finding himself more than once fantasizing about her during the quieter hours on the bridge. Following the Serenidad Tragedy, Uhura had commanded an escort-class ship, logging many hours in the center seat. Like Chekov and Sulu, she had lost some of her status by aiding in the theft of the Enterprise from SpaceDock. But since Sulu had overcome that blotch on his service record, she might be in line for a command again herself.
"Aye, sir," Uhura replied. She noted his lingering glance. I'd give more than one penny for his thoughts, she pondered as she sent the requested message. She was very much aware of the captain's occasional interest, but was also aware of her rank and position and didn't push it. That didn't change the fact that her feelings were strong for Jim Kirk, had been from the first time she had served on his bridge so many years ago.
"Ye'll not be going anywhere without me." When it came to smelling out a party, Captain Montgomery Scott was still the undisputed champion.
Riley and Chekov smiled. They'd been on many shore leaves with the burly Scot. The Enterprise's chief engineer had a knack for finding a good time wherever it might be, and he wasn't always too discriminating as to its character.
The engineer checked the status of his engines as he mentally reviewed the places where he would take the two youngsters. A night out with the laddies will be just what the doctor ordered, Scott thought. Come to think of it, I'll bet Leonard would like to come too. He might be a bit stodgy, but he still enjoys a night on the town. The next thought really lit up the old Scot's face. Besides, the graduating class will be out and about the city. It's always fun impressing those poor, naive ensigns.
An anomaly appeared on the engine status board in front of him, and his mind snapped back to business. Turning to the captain, he put in a query. "Sir, any idea what they'll be doing to the bairns this time?" Scott loved a good time, but he never neglected his beloved Enterprise.
"None at all, Scotty," Kirk responded.
Along with the mechanical refits, they also would receive three new officers from the graduating class. Kirk shuddered at the thought of what had to be done to get these greenies up to speed. Numerous situations made life as a starship commander difficult. The breaking in of new ensigns ranked second only to writing the letters informing the next of kin of the loss of their loved ones. The reputation of the rank of ensign hadn't changed much since its invention centuries ago and probably wouldn't in the centuries to come. An ensign was an ensign, and the beast would never change.
There had been one exception to this rule, and Kirk found her standing near her mentor, Captain Spock. Lieutenant Commander Saavik had returned to the Enterprise after completing her diplomatic attaché assignment on Vulcan. Being half-Romulan, she had never been a typical anything, let alone cadet. But she had lost her wide-eyed look. Though physically, she resembled any other Vulcan he had known, Kirk had seen the indications that intense emotions boiled within her. Despite her control, she was still the most challenging sparring partner Kirk had ever encountered. He had more than once found himself looking up at her from the mats of the Enterprise's gym in the past three months.
The starship had secured from warp speed just inside the orbits of Uranus and Saturn, a standard procedure, since the use of warp engines any closer posed a danger to interplanetary transportation. The impulse engines would get them there in less than two days, and the crew would have the luxury of being able to catch up with their paperwork so that once at SpaceDock, they would be free to get all the rest they deserved.
Looking at the viewscreen, it took Kirk a minute to locate Earth. Sol was still just a very bright star. He looked for a bright spot of reflected light nearby. He finally located it by its slightly bluish tint. SpaceDock would be nearby, sitting in the middle of where the gravities of Earth and her moon canceled each other out.
*****
A day and a half later, and right on time, the Enterprise docked. Kirk left the ship and found the nearest transporter station. Surprisingly, he found a slot already reserved for him in the transport schedule. Moses must have something pretty important, he thought, a nagging discomfort building within him as the station's transport room dissolved, and the small station that served the C 'n C and his staff in Starfleet Headquarters materialized.
Cartwright's suite of offices wasn't far away. Upon entering the admiral's outer office, the admiral's personal secretary, Lieutenant Commander Tonya Barrows, ushered him straight in.
"Jim, you ol' space dog. How are you?" Admiral Cartwright stood up and walked around his desk.
Kirk was always just a little uncomfortable around the commanding admiral. There was something about him that was unsettling. Something about the way he referred to and treated non-Humans. It wasn't always obvious. Kirk felt the latent bigotry more than realized it, but he felt he couldn't trust the man completely. He was a notorious fencesitter, too, and that often rankled Kirk. Cartwright had replaced his mentor Harold Morrow after the serious gaffe regarding Spock's katra.
Ella Cartwright, the admiral's wife, and Kirk had been friends for a long time, going all the way back to the Academy. In fact, he'd had a small fling with her. Ella had graduated with Kirk. It had been in Starfleet that she had met Moses Cartwright and then married him. She had resigned her commission for him, an act that Kirk felt was a great loss to Starfleet. Kirk had always sensed an undercurrent of friction in all the contacts he'd had with Cartwright over the years since, and he often wondered if he'd found out from Ella about their past liaison. "Just fine, sir. How about yourself?"
"Fine, just fine. You and your crew going to attend the mid-year graduation tomorrow?" Cartwright asked.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, sir." What does Admiral Cartwright really want? Kirk thought. Surely he didn't call me here just to renew acquaintances. "What's up?"
"Nothing, I hope, Jim." Cartwright's face grew a little more serious. "But as one of my senior starship commanders, I thought you ought to be aware of a curious development in Gorn space."
Kirk was uncomfortable with the admiral's easy transition to using his first name. He waited patiently, knowing that the admiral would continue when he was ready.
"It's not that Gorn silence is noteworthy. The Federation's recent peace treaty has done nothing to change that. But..." He paused to stare out the large picture window that overlooked San Francisco's harbor then continued, "Our outposts on the nearby Klingon Neutral Zone have reported no broadcasts on any of their standard operating subspace frequency now. Nothing, not even mundane ion storm reports. It doesn't make sense, and I'll have to admit, it has me very uneasy. What do you think?"
"I don't know, sir. It's hard to figure the Gorn. My suggestion would be to wait and see. I'm sure they'll be back on station soon enough." Kirk had to agree this was a new twist to their behavior. Since 2268, the Federation and the Gorn had been on amicable terms. The recent treaty signed on Xantharus IV between the Federation, the Gorn and the Orions had brought peace to the Federation's rear echelons. "You know, it's unlike them."
"I don't know if that's right, Jim. As far as sharing military intelligence, they flatly refuse any request I make of them. Heck, I even asked them to check out an anomalous reading near the galactic barrier. Do you think they responded? No." He snorted. "Sometimes I think their intelligence is as slow as their movements." Cartwright answered, shaking his head at the same time.
That bigoted reference was pretty obvious, thought the Enterprise commander, frowning. He's getting a little lax now that he's Commander-Starfleet. "I'd just wait and see what happens next, sir." Kirk relaxed.
"That's just it, Jim. I can't." Cartwright got serious all of a sudden. "Not after what happened to the Cooper at Xantharus. The President will have both my retirement and my career in a hand basket if I let Starfleet get caught with its pants down again. That's why I'm going to send the Dominion and her battle group out, just in case." Cartwright made eye contact. "Do you think I'm overreacting, Jim?"
Kirk remembered Xantharus well. Captain Sulu had been involved in that one, and by all regards should have died. "No, sir. I think you're making a prudent decision in this case, all things considered." Though there's nothing a dreadnought-class ship could do that one of the heavy cruisers couldn't do faster, Kirk added to himself. Starfleet's mighty dreadnoughts were disappointments, never living up to their design specs and that after trillions of credits.
"They'll be leaving in the next couple of days." Changing the subject, Admiral Cartwright continued, "You're staying at the 'Starfleet Hilton' during the refit of your ship I assume?"
"No, sir." It amazed Kirk how the nickname for Starfleet's Officer Quarters had survived the years. "I have an apartment on the bay. Got it when I first got bumped up to Admiral in 2270. I've kept it ever since."
"Of course." Cartwright smiled, then continued, "Ella and I will see you at the informal party we're throwing in our quarters at the Hilton, won't we? Or should I make that an order?" That last part was a running joke between Kirk and the admiral.
Chuckling, Kirk would have turned the invitation down if it hadn't been for Ella. "Glad to, sir, but please tell Ella I'll find my own date." Ella Cartwright was also famous for her persistent match-making efforts. Kirk frowned a bit as he tried to think of whom he might invite.
Cartwright noted the frown. "That's not a problem is it?"
Kirk gave the commander one of his famous smirks.
"No, I guess not," Cartwright replied, "you've never been too sensitive when it came to that, have you?" The admiral frowned a bit, watching Kirk for a reaction.
Ouch, Kirk winced mentally, he is getting bold, but he didn't let himself rise to the insult.
Cartwright continued. "We'll see you there. Oh, by the way, what are your plans for tonight?
"Scotty and a few of the officers are taking me out on the town," Kirk replied, "so...if I look under the weather tomorrow, you'll know why."
"Have one on me," Cartwright responded as he smiled. "Dismissed."
Kirk left the office and was already tackling the problem of a dance partner. Who was at Starfleet this time of year? Kirk thought as he walked down the corridor. Kate Logan was still running her shipping company. The recent Xantharus treaty had opened new markets to her. Gillian Taylor was involved with a major cetacean research project on the ocean world of Pacifica.
Oh well, I'll cross that bridge later, thought Kirk. Meanwhile, back to the Enterprise and Scotty.His chief engineer always got surly when delayed.
*****
San Francisco was still a prime rest and relaxation spot in the Federation, with good reason. Part of it had kept up with the styles of a growing Federation, appealing to just about all the new civilizations, especially the drinking establishments. Interstellar trade had introduced many new substances to the menu, but alcohol was still the drug of preference to Humans, and an ice cold beer was still their first choice. It was especially true in the Old City.
Scott lived up to his reputation, giving his entourage a four-star tour of the bars around the bay. It was amazing the dives that the engineer knew about. Uhura had come along as well. Presently, they were in a bar with a lit dance floor and loud music. To cater to all the sentient beings of the Federation, a bank of lights, giving off every frequency, lit the dance floor.
"You still drinking that water, Chekov?" Scott ribbed the commander.
"Vwater? No, this is wvodka, and it's better than that bilge you alvways order."
"Now, son, let me explain the finer points of this one-hundred-year-old Scotch."
Riley had started off the night with the group, but had stumbled onto a bunch of his classmates and had gone off with them.
The band playing on the dais was part of a rotating circuit that entertained the different outposts and starbases all over the Federation. They were presently playing one of their newest hit songs. It was a fast, loud piece, that if it hadn't been for the adjustable sonic dampers at each table, would have had the entire bar yelling at each other. The dance floor was full of bouncing, gyrating forms.
Uhura and Kirk were sitting at the same table with Scott and Chekov, who were still deep in conversation. The captain found himself wondering why the engineer and security officer had always gotten along so well since they always vehemently disagreed on so many subjects. Maybe it was because half the time neither one could understand what the other was saying...
"How is your family doing these days, Nyota?" Kirk asked after they ran out of service subjects to talk about.
"Good. The herds are thriving, and business is booming," Uhura responded, pride filling her voice.
Replaced by substitutes of the same nutritional content, fresh beef and other meats were still quite lucrative, and Uhura's family owned and ran probably the largest ranch on the African continent. Now that the Treaty of Xantharus had been signed, the Orions had started importing Terran beef. None of their own planets had managed to produce anything as tasty to Orions as Terran meat products.
In the background, the style of music changed. The air filled with the slow, relaxing sounds of a different piece. The band was taking a break.
"Now that's a bit better," Kirk noted, standing up. "Shall we dance?"
"I'd love to," she responded, already on her feet.
The dance floor wasn't completely empty. The younger set, so fond of the active, loud music, was taking a breather. The older couples replaced them on the floor. That was another interesting parallel between the numerous intelligent species of the Federation. The young liked it loud, fast and stimulating, while the older members liked it relaxed and quiet. Scott and Chekov had found themselves dance partners and were already on the floor. Kirk was enjoying himself immensely. It had been a long time since he'd had a chance to relax. It was times like this when he remembered the solitary beach to stand on of his dreams.
"You dance quite well, Captain."
"Please, you can call me 'Jim' here."
Embarrassed and a little uncomfortable with the breach of etiquette, Uhura looked at the floor for a moment. "Okay, Jim."
"Thank you, Nyota, but I think I can thank my partner for most of it."
They didn't talk much after that, just enjoyed the dance and each other's company. The slow music ended far too soon, and the band came back. An immediate turnover of couples resulted.
"Would you like to get something to eat, Nyota?" Kirk yelled over the music.
"What?"
"Eat!" He made the hand motion of shoving food into his mouth.
"Yes, of course!" She vigorously nodded her head.
Kirk caught Scott's eye letting him know that they were leaving and got a quick acknowledgment. It appeared Scott and Chekov were set for the night. Once outside, the sound insulation of the building cut off the loud music, letting them hear the typical sounds of a summer night.
Wondering where he could take her, Kirk got his bearings. Soon a place came to mind, and he turned to Uhura. "I know a nice little place on the other side of the park that's famous for its international Earth cuisine."
"That sounds fine, and a walk in the park will go well right about now."
The park was not empty, a favorite location for many couples. They crossed it at a leisurely pace, enjoying every minute.
The restaurant was small and quiet, with only a few patrons sitting at the tables. The maître d' seated them immediately. Kirk ordered a vintage Saurian brandy as they settled in for an evening of small talk and good food.
The meal came and went, the time flying.
"You ready to leave?" Kirk asked, regretting the end of a very pleasant evening.
"Yes. Thank you, Captain, ah, er, Jim," Uhura replied.
"My pleasure, Commander, ah, er, Nyota," Kirk mimicked her discomfort, then chuckled.
Uhura joined him in his mirth.
"Where are you staying?" Kirk asked as they left the restaurant.
"Not far from here." She pointed absently off to the right. "I have an apartment on Main street."
"I'll walk you home, if you'd like," Kirk offered.
Uhura smiled and answered. "That would be nice. Thank you."
As they left, they again entered the park for another short walk. All too soon they arrived at an apartment. They walked up the stairs and stopped before a door with Uhura's name on it.
Turning, she faced Kirk. "Thank you for the evening, sir. We must do it again sometime."
"Soon, I hope. Until then..." Kirk gently kissed her on the lips, and the two embraced for a short time.
On the way home, Kirk replayed the encounter and was a little surprised at the hidden affection it had brought out. He had always been fond of his communications officer, but it had never occurred to him that there might be more to it than that. Yes, there will be a next time, he thought as a smile spread across his face, a whole multitude of next times.
*****
Starfleet Academy--where the Federation's finest and boldest assembled to vie for positions aboard the largest fleet in the known galaxy. Each would be trained as explorers and ambassadors to the newly discovered civilizations, and defenders of the alliance of planets.
Only a few weeks had passed since Earth's traditional New Year. It was a time when the Academy had its greatest influx of past and future graduates. The old came to admire and reminisce; the new to be commissioned into service.
The Academy was always at its finest during graduation, mid-year and summer equally. Not only because of the tradition and precision of the ceremony, but because it drew VIPs from across the Federation. It also served as a modern day rendezvous for the mountain men of the twenty-third century--the commanders and crews of Starfleet's starships. It had been these hardy souls who, like their predecessors of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, were opening the new frontiers.
As a band played the opening marches, the personnel took their places in the stands. By tradition, the seating arrangement was according to rank and position, running from left to right, from the bottom of the stands to the top. The Commanding Admiral's seat was up front and just to the left of the podium. His staff and senior advisors sat behind him and finally the starship commanders with their senior cadre. The rest of each ship's crew sat in the stands open to the public. As was customary, there was standing room only, even in aisles.
The crowd hushed as Richard Barstow, the commandant of the Academy, stepped into the reviewing stand and stood behind the podium. "Admiral Cartwright, distinguished commanders, ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to present the midshipmen of the Academy."
The first of this year's underclassmen came onto the field, all decked out in their red and yellow cadet jumpsuits. As they passed the podium, the student leader of each group saluted the commandant and his distinguished guests.
With the lower classmen in their final position on the field, it was time for the graduating class to enter. Wearing their brand new Starfleet uniforms and berets, the new officers proudly marched onto the field. Each uniform waited for that most important part, the insignia of the glorious rank of ensign, that single pin of gold.
It had been a long four years of intensive instruction, yet, it still had been only the basics. Each new officer would be continuing their professional education long after the novelty of being commissioned wore off.
During the customary speeches, Kirk had a chance to look around and see who else was there. It took awhile, but he finally found who he was looking for--Lieutenant Commander Shaun Kelsey. He hadn't changed much physically, the brilliant blue eyes framed in contrast by his nearly black hair. Kirk remembered the day, over a decade ago, when the orders transferring Kelsey from the Enterprise to the Samson had come. He had hated to lose the promising young officer then, but was relieved Kelsey hadn't been aboard during the Serenidad Tragedy...so many lives had been lost. But now there was a shading of grey at Kelsey's temple, an outward sign of the wear and tear of service in Starfleet.
A few rows back of him, Kirk found the remainder of the Enterprise's crew. In the center of the group was Spock and Saavik. Kirk understood Spock's request to remain with the crew instead of sitting with the ship's senior officers. Saavik and Spock had grown very close since her return to duty on the Enterprise following her three months on Vulcan. Saavik had chosen to follow Spock's career in the sciences, and she was now serving as the second science officer aboard the Enterprise, a post once held by Xon. Spock was also following the career of Valeris, one of the Vulcan cadets who would be commissioned next year. She had asked him to serve as her advisor and mentor, and he, being one of the most senior Vulcans in Starfleet, had agreed.
The commandant concluded his speech and began the swearing in ceremony. "Those to receive their commissions raise your right appendage and repeat after me."
Once completed, the new officers finished the ceremony with a ritual performed since anyone could remember. With a roar, they threw their berets into the air and congratulated each other for making it all the way, turning into a milling sea of new officers, nicknamed a long time ago by an amused dignitary as 'a gaggle.'
The commandant made a final announcement. "Gentlebeings, this completes our ceremony. There will be refreshments in the Christopher Pike dining facility. Underclassmen, return to your classes. Again, congratulations to the new officers. Your assignments will be posted at the reception."
Kirk already knew the names of the three officers he was to get. At the reception, he would covertly watch each of them to get some indication as to what they were like. He especially enjoyed seeing their surprise and shock when they found out their assignments. His ship always drew the best of the class.
As he and his crew made their way to the reception, he reviewed the names Spock had gotten from Starfleet's computers.
Ensign Raymond Swift Deer--born and raised on Dakota, a planet colonized by the last of Earth's Sioux Indian nation. Kirk remembered the last officer he'd had of the Amerind culture. Walking Bear had boasted of his Comanche heritage and had served well. Swift Deer would be a fine addition to the Enterprise's officer corps.
Ensign Riit--a felinoid female from Kzin, her full name translating to Sneaky. It was quite a tale to hear how she got the name. Resembling the Caitians, the Kzinti were aggressive fighters, and Kirk was looking forward to a sparring match with her.
Ensign Spareg--the Enterprise would be empty without the presence of the galaxy's most logical species. It wouldn't be too long before Starfleet would again lose Spock to civilian life. He had served the Federation over and above all others. Not many officers actually got a chance to die for their government and live to tell about it. The gaining of young Spareg would assure the presence of a Vulcan on the Enterprise for a long time to come.
Starfleet Academy's Food Service outdid themselves. The dining facility could pass as a ballroom from any one of the embassies. Laid out on a long table in the center were examples of every culinary delicacy in the Federation.
The reception itself was not unlike receptions of the past. Everyone made polite conversation as they milled around. The new officers stood in their tight little groups and nervously talked to the visiting dignitaries. They were, as a group, tense. Not because of the VIP's, but because they were still without assignment orders. Excitement coursed through them with the arrival of Captain Po, the Academy's personnel officer.
"Distinguished guests, ladies and gentlemen. I have the orders for the new officers. If you'll kindly give me your attention," requested Po, an Oriental woman who had once served aboard the Enterprise, even testifying in Kirk's court-martial in that sordid Finney affair.
The time everyone was waiting for had arrived. Kirk positioned himself, so he could see the reaction of his three new officers.
"As you know, class standing determines your assignment. Those individuals rated at the top, will get the most valued assignments. A poll of the graduating class determines the rank of each possible assignment. So, without further delay, let's get started."
The standings of the class were no secret to any of the new officers, nor the ranking of each possible assignment. It was only a matter of seeing what prime assignments needed replacements. The personnel officer knew this, but this was the most fun she would have all year, and she was going to get all she could from it.
"Ensign Spareg, your assignment is immediate and you will report this afternoon to..." She paused as she pulled out some antique spectacles and adjusted them onto her face. The effect was predictable. Even the young Vulcan was showing tell-tale signs of anticipation. "...the U.S.S.Enterprise."
A murmur went through the crowd. This was indeed fortunate. It wasn't often that the unanimous first choice for assignment was in need of replacements. It would have surprised Kirk to see anything but the satisfied nod from the young Vulcan. The announcement sent an even higher surge of excitement through the rest of the new officers. If the Enterprise was in need of replacements, maybe it was for more than one.
"Ensign Swift Deer. U.S.S..." The personnel officer was in her glory now as she stretched it out for the young Human. "...Enterprise!"
The war whoop of the Amerind was centuries old. If the emotional display annoyed anybody, they kept it to themselves.
It was Ensign Riit's turn on the hot seat. Would the personnel officer give the first two further instructions or would her assignment also be to the ship of her dreams? She had wanted to be assigned to the same ship as Commander Uhura. This Human female had been a legend on Kzin ever since her ship, the Anwar Sadat, had brought to the Kzinti Patriarchy a medicine, developed by the Federation, to cure an outbreak of plasma plague that had almost destroyed Kzin. Once the planet's population had been saved, the old Patriarch himself had chosen to join the United Federation of Planets, and once again, old enemies had become fast friends.
"Ensign Riit..."
The whole room heard the soft rumble that radiated from her. Since Captain Po had not given the other two ensigns further instructions that could only mean one thing. Like all felinoids, from the Caitians to the Vedala, her race's sign of contentment was a low, rumbling purr.
"...U.S.S. Enterprise."
The rumble grew louder forming a nearly visible aura about her. The dream she had worked so hard for had come true. She quickly stepped forward and received the valuable orders.
"The three of you will report to your ship this afternoon since it is Starfleet's honor to have the Enterprise present today. Your new commander requests to see you immediately." Looking up, Po spotted Captain Kirk and waved. "I believe I see him and his officers in the back of the room."
The disappointment of the rest of the class was visible. This meant that the Enterprise had filled her quota. They recovered quickly as the personnel officer continued. They could still hope for an assignment to a different starship. Heavens forbid they should wind up in some stuffy staff section here at Starfleet.
The three newest members of his crew approached Captain Kirk. It could be seen that each had a growing apprehension as they approached, though the reason was not as obvious.
For Ensign Spareg, he was a legend as important to his Vulcan culture as Kirk was to the Humans. The presence of Captain Spock inwardly distressed him, and he had to struggle to hide the emotional state from the fellow Vulcan. For Ensign Swift Deer, the Enterprise captain was the reason. Kirk was the eminent warrior of his time and Swift Deer's personal hero. As for Ensign Riit, it was the presence of Commander Uhura, she who had brought salvation to Kzin. They stood stiffly at attention, waiting the first orders of their new commander.
Kirk began the task of relaxing them to a more stable level of excitement. He kept his voice low so as not to disturb the final posting of orders. "Good afternoon and congratulations on graduating with honors. I'd like to introduce my senior officers to you." As Kirk proceeded, he knew this was hardly necessary, but social etiquette required it.
"Let's get on to business. I want you to get your gear together and report to Commander Chekov, ship's security officer and personnel officer, aboard the Enterprise this afternoon. He will detail your duties then. After I return from liberty, we'll set up a time to talk to each of you. Again, congratulations and welcome aboard."
The posting finished, and there were ensigns running in all directions already trying to obey their first orders.
The captain watched his newcomers hurry off. "Well. What do you think of that lot?" Kirk offered to those behind him.
Only Scott had anything but a shrug or noncommittal reply to offer. "Sir, it seems they're allowing younger and younger kids into the service these days, but I think we can mold them into something useful." Grimacing, the chief engineer appended, "Eventually."
The group agreed with the comment. Kirk changed the subject. "So, Captain Spock, what are your plans for the next few weeks?"
"Saavik and I will be visiting the Vulcan ambassador and his wife," Spock responded. "Then I have planned a retreat to Mountain View," he added, referring to the property of the late Roberta Grayson.
"Good, Spock. Give my greetings to your parents," Kirk returned. "And have fun in Washington."
"We shall, sir. You know you are always welcome there if you wish to accompany us," Spock offered.
"Thank you. I may take you up on that," the starship commander replied, then shifted his attention to his chief engineer. "And you, Scotty?"
"Well, sir, I thought I'd visit my family home in Scotland for a couple of days, then return to speed up the work on the bairns. I have a few ideas I'd like to pursue, looking to increasing their efficiency." Scott's eyes unfocused as his mind began reviewing what he was talking about.
"That's fine, Scotty. How about you two?" Kirk turned toward Riley and Chekov.
"Sir, we thought we'd enjoy the hospitality of the house and check out the new ships in SpaceDock," Chekov volunteered. "They've come out with yet another variant of the Miranda-class, different from the Reliant and the Soyuz. I'm told the changes are significant."
"And I," inserted Riley, "want a look at the refitted Oberths." Laughing, he continued, "Every time I turn around, they change the uniforms, retrofit ships, and change the bridge layout. You'd think they'd save money keeping things the same."
Kirk knew what they were saying between the lines. The two wanted to take a look at the ships to which they might be assigned, but chose not to go any deeper. He would hate to lose these two, but if they were going to rise to the height of their potential, they needed positions of higher responsibility. "That's fine, good hunting. If you see Sulu, give him my regards."
"Sir?"
Kirk turned toward Uhura.
"What are your plans?" the lovely Bantu woman asked.
"Oh, I'll visit the ol' family homestead."
"Who's caring for it? I thought Peter was in Starfleet," remarked Uhura. Of course, if the rumors she'd heard were true, the captain's nephew wasn't long for the service.
"He is, but my cousins, Johnny and Teddy, have been running the farm since my mother died. That fire all but ate her spirit, and she was gone before we knew it. They rebuilt the place afterwards."
"Are the three of you close?"
"No. They were much closer to Sam. They've always blamed me for his death. Wondered why the great hero couldn't save his own brother."
"Well, that's hardly fair. Using that thinking, they may as well blame Spock and Peter for surviving the parasites."
Kirk shrugged his shoulders. "For all I know, they still do. But, they're family. When I'm done there, I thought I'd just wander around Riverside."
"That sounds just dreadful. Why don't you come with me and visit my family? It'll tickle my folks to meet you after hearing so much about you from my letters," Uhura offered, her eyes offering much more than what she was saying.
"Now, Uhura, I wouldn't want to be a bother." Kirk was feeling a type of discomfort he hadn't felt since adolescence.
"No, sir. It would be a pleasure. Let me call my folks and arrange it. You can leave with me this afternoon if you'd like."
"I surrender," Kirk responded. "But," he hesitated, "I must postpone it until tomorrow afternoon; I'm attending a party at Cartwright's quarters tonight, and I'll need time to recover. Come to think of it, he did tell me to bring a dancing partner." Putting on his most alluring smile, he voiced the question. "Will you do me the honor of accompanying me to the admiral's party tonight, Commander Uhura?"
"My pleasure, sugar." Uhura was beaming.
This turn of events pleased Kirk. He couldn't have done better if he had planned it. He turned to his chief medical officer. "Bones, what's on your agenda?"
Doctor McCoy answered, "I'm going to my daughter's home right away. She gave me another granddaughter you know. Named her Katherine. Family tradition to name at least one daughter that, been goin' on for centuries, or at least that's what my momma said. When the Lord ordered Adam to fill the world, He had the McCoy's in mind."
Kirk remembered seeing the communiqué they had received announcing the birth only a few months back. "My congratulations, Bones. Say hello to the family for me while you're there. I haven't seen Joanna in years."
McCoy was all smiles. "You betcha, Jim."
They began to notice that the reception was starting to wind down. Kirk was just about to take a sip of the champagne that Scott had gotten for him, when, from over his glass he saw an officer he hadn't seen in a while approaching him. "Commander Kelsey."
Kelsey offered his hand. "Sir."
Kirk grabbed the proffered hand and shook it vigorously. "Shaun, I see you still have your hair, pilgrim," the captain said, remembering the greeting of Earth's mountain men. "It's nice to see you still in one piece."
"Yeah, there were times I wasn't too sure about continuing that way. Captain Rachelson is a fine commander. She got us in and out without a scratch."
"How long are you here for?" Kirk asked.
"Just a couple of days for liberty, then we leave on our next tour," Kelsey responded.
Hoping there wasn't a classification problem, Kirk asked, "Where to?"
Frowning, the younger officer almost mumbled his answer. "The Andromeda sector."
This brought looks of disgust from those within earshot. The Gorn territory was considered one the most onerous duties in Starfleet. Despite the recent treaty with the Orions and the Gorn, someone had to watch for smugglers and criminals, and unfortunately, Starfleet had gotten the job. The Andromeda sector was located between the Orion territories, the Gorn Confederation and the United Federation of Planets. As a strategic location, it was ideal for all sorts of illegal activities.
The Samson must be part of the Dominion group, thought Kirk before continuing. "Stop by in the morning, and I'll buy you breakfast," Kirk offered.
"Yes, sir. I'll see you then." Riley and Chekov had just caught Kelsey's eye and had him quickly in tow toward an exit.
Kirk had another detail to iron out. It had occurred to him that he didn't have any idea what to bring to the Uhura homestead. "Nyota, what's the weather like this time of year on the African continent?"
"Warm, for the most part. Bring something comfortable and light, and some clothes suitable for riding horses," Uhura responded.
"That sounds fun. I haven't been riding in a long time. Until tonight, say, eighteen hundred or so?" Kirk bowed slightly at the waist.
"Aye, sir." Uhura did a slight curtsy in return, then headed for a nearby door.
The room was nearly empty by now. Kirk had one final ceremony to perform. He'd done it after attending the first graduation not his own, and had continued doing it with every successive visit. Silently, he raised his full glass of champagne, toasting the new mountain men of the Federation. "May your traps be full, your way clear and your days filled with wonder. Watch your hair, pilgrims," he said to anyone left to hear it, then drained the glass. He put it on the table nearby as he headed for the nearest exit.
-3-
"We have come so far, First Armada Commander," the Kelvan Supreme Commander said as he looked at the viewscreen that could only show him a small part of the mass of ships that contained the entire Kelvan species. "You do have good news, don't you?"
The mass of ships that had been home for the entire Kelvan empire for two and a half long generations clung to the surface of the galaxy like a Regulan bloodworm. Millions of times larger than the loathsome creature it resembled, it was busy injecting poison into its host. This devil, though, was not content with just sucking out nutrition; it wanted to inject its entire being into its host and consume it from the inside out like a virus.
Three types of ships made up the mass. The small spherical fighter was by far the most numerous, comparable in size and weaponry to the Klingon Bird-of-Prey. Centered inside the ship's machinery was a smaller spherical chamber, the cockpit of the ship's occupant. Individually, each Kelvan was taller than the Vegan titanosaur, resembling the hydra of Earth with hundreds of long tentacles, each able to perform separate tasks. Mute, they communicated telepathically with each other, but this means of communication had a short range so each individual had a mechanical pick-up that translated the individual's mental voice onto subspace frequencies. The ship lacked an actual entry hatch to this internal chamber. A transporter beam injected the occupant onto the control platform. From this central location, the Kelvan pilot could maneuver and fight his vessel as well any ship needing multiple crew members.
The next type of vessel was not just a small step up in size, but was huge. Primarily used to direct and support the smaller fighters, it was a long, cylindrical tube. Attached to its surface were hundreds of projections representing communication antennae, weapons, shield generators and sensor arrays. Located in front were three huge docking bays that allowed it to take many fighter craft in at the same time. Designed to accommodate the lower and intermediate levels of commanders, it accommodated his staff, hundreds of technicians and specialists, and quarters for every member of the fighter group it supported.
At the center of the mass was the single representation of the third type of ship. Like the brain of an organism, it motivated and directed the movements of the mass. Made up of four of the long tubular structures fused into a rectangular box, it dwarfed even the massive support ship. This ship contained all the labs, archives, and staff quarters necessary to support the most powerful individual in the nation. The Supreme Commander never had to leave his centrally located room.
The First Armada Commander had just arrived at this location. Though the Supreme Commander's mental voice sounded calm enough, every mental impulse carried an implied threat. Relieved, the First Armada Commander had the good news his leader looked for. "Yes, Great Progenitor, I have. The new shields worked to get us through this galaxy's peculiar energy barrier. We quickly disposed of the hostile non-corporeal lifeforms residing in the barrier itself, and we are already well ahead of schedule in conquering the species we found on the other side."
"The probe we intercepted, the one sent by the government calling itself the Federation..."
"Yes, Great Progenitor, I know of the one you refer to."
"Is this the Federation?" A mental image of the reptilian bipeds appeared.
"No, Great Progenitor. They are a species calling themselves the Gorn. Rather than have to explain, I have brought you something."
The background tone of the Supreme Commander's thoughts brightened. "A gift?"
"Yes, Great Progenitor." The First Armada Commander pulled out a polyhedron. "It is one of their high leaders. He will have much of what you want to know in his memories."
The Supreme Commander accepted the polyhedron with what appeared to the subordinate almost youthful glee. "Ahhh, thank you, First Armada. A most appropriate gift. It won't bite will it?"
"Yes, Great Progenitor. Take care, but they are as slow as they are strong. They do have very powerful minds, with much information stored inside," First Armada responded.
"Good. I'll absorb this one later. For now, you can bring my chart up to date." The Supreme Commander moved to a control board nearby. A flip of a switch activated it, and a large hologram of their new galactic home formed in the air nearby.
"Yes, Great Progenitor." First Armada moved up next to his commander. He activated an electronic pointer from the console. "According to the knowledge I've absorbed, the Gorn occupy this much of this galaxy," he moved the pointer in the hologram and described the Gorn territory, then color coded it yellow.
"Next to it, right about here, is the Federation with which the Gorn recently merged." The area the pointer described was much larger, spanning from the galactic rim to just halfway to the bright central hub. He color coded it blue. There were areas, some large, some small, in the midst of the blue that had no color.
"Is that all the Gorn know about? the Supreme Commander queried. "The probe said something about staying away from..." He paused for a moment thinking. "What do they call themselves?"
First Armada knew his commander hadn't forgotten but was testing him. "The Klingons, Romulans and the Orions, sire?"
"Ah, yes. What about them?"
"From what I have absorbed, the Klingons are here." He drew the boundaries and color coded it purple. "The Romulans here." A green area appeared. "And the Orion are here." An orange area appeared. "The Orions recently joined with the Federation as well."
"This is all the galaxy they know?" the Supreme Commander sounded amazed. "It's less than ten percent!"
"Yes, Great Progenitor, it appears that for the most part these are all relatively young species, only recently entering interstellar space. The Gorn have records of previously advanced races which have become extinct."
"If only the probes we'd sent had returned, we'd know more now," the Supreme Commander commented. "Do the Gorn have any information on what happened to them?"
"Not in the memories of those we've taken so far, but there have been some reference to a disturbance caused by an unknown vessel whose description indicates that it might have been one of our probes, but the information is very crude and sketchy. From what we can glean, the Federation destroyed the probe."
"That confirms what I had already decided," the Supreme Commander moved away from the console, but left the hologram in place. At a different console, he activated nine small screens. New presences and voices, those of the other armada commanders, joined the war council in the Supreme Commander's room.
His booming, mental voice began the conference. "Armada Commanders. The action against the Gorn is going better than planned, and our progress there is ahead of schedule. Now is the time to start the next step." Two of his tentacles worked on the device controlling the hologram. The red mass of the Kelvan nation started to move like that of an amoeba, entering through a large opening in the barrier.
"My scientists say they can build a device, a bridge, so that we can cross through the barrier without interaction with its negative energy. In the mean time, First Armada will complete the full absorption of the species calling itself the Gorn. We shall change their industry to fit our needs. It will be our new home, and we will use it as a base of operations to begin the subjugation of this entire galaxy. After that we will move on to conquer the people calling themselves the United Federation of Planets." There was a mental chuckle. "It was so nice of them to provide us with a map with which we can plan their conquest."
-4-
Spreading out over and filling the valley between the Kurnach mountains and the shores of the ancient dry sea bed of 'IwbIQ'a', the voDleH veng rumbled with unceasing industry. The lights of its existence illuminated Qo'nos' permanent sulphurous haze in an unnatural red glow. The western horizon glowed a deep, blood red, foretelling dawn, its expanse eternally cloudless.
Sharp-pinnacled fortresses stood sentry throughout the city, their ramparts illuminated, displaying the prowess of the one who resided there. The leading edge of the first and largest star that had spawned this world broke over the top of a tall mountainous ridge and lit the top spire of the central keep of the largest of these. Built by the first lord to rule from it, the original stone-walled castle had grown and expanded with the discovery of new and more advanced methods of defense.
A cavernous chamber deep within the central keep held the throne of the Klingon's ruler. It was both spacious and ornate. Mounted on the walls were the family crests from the empire's most influential families, positioned to show the standing of that family in the Klingon hierarchy. The largest crest by far was high on the wall behind the heavy throne, surrounded by purple drapes of the finest Rigelian silk.
The hall echoed with the loud voice of a heavily armored warrior who addressed three others gathered before the throne's dais. He was waving his arms and pacing. "I curse the day our scientists attempted to improve our species and produced the Kh'myr. They challenge every custom, every rule held sacred by our people."
"Calm yourself, Kor. When they arrive, they will sense your irritation and know they've already won," a colleague tried to stop the other's pacing, but failed when he shrugged off his restraining hand.
"That's exactly what I mean, Koloth. I can remember when no one, whether he be these upstart Kh'myr or the Segh vav, would want to irritate me. Qi'yaH. Khalian and his mob make sport of it. Arrgh..." Kor roared his frustration and anger to the ceiling, not waiting for the echo to die before beginning to pace again.
"Precisely why you should work harder at controlling your blood lust," a different member of the group said as he sat in a chair near the wall. The aura of power and control surrounded him. "You do remember what happened when you lost your temper that time in the Organian sector?"
"Arrgh," Kor roared, reaching for his disruptor, but finding only an empty holster. Instead he pulled his taj, his dagger, the only weapon allowed into the Emperor's fortress, the blood letting side blades clicking into position immediately. "You do well not to bring that up, Kang." There was murder in his eyes.
Kang remained in his seat, a smile spreading across his face. "Save it for the Kh'myr, Kor. Would you do their work for them?" He laughed in the face of Kor's glowering temper.
The fourth member of the group put his arm around Kor's shoulders. "Come, my friend. Save this for Khalian."
Kor turned on him, shrugging of the arm. Using the taj as he would his finger in a more peaceful situation, he shook its razor sharp point only micro-kams from his nose. "You do well to watch your back, Kumara. Members of the council more powerful than you have fallen under Kh'myr intrigues."
Kumara laughed, then continued. "I might not wield the same power in the fleet as you and the others. What I lack in physical strength, I make up for up here." He pointed at his forehead, where the ridges of seniority were only just beginning to form. Not many Segh vav males survived long enough to boast these signs of age and wisdom, whereas the Kh'myr were born with them.
"That's right, Kor." Kang stood. "Let your mind be as strong as your power in the fleet, and we will still prevail here."
Kor grumbled, but relaxed. With the scraping sound of metal on metal, he reseated his taj. "I think you all take them far too casually."
"We take them for what they are: the curse of our species," Koloth responded, "unworthy of Kahless. But they hold power, so they must be dealt with." He would have continued, but the sound of voices coming from the hall leading to the throne room interrupted him. He tried to listen to their conversation, then shook his head when he couldn't understand.
Kumara saw Koloth's perplexed look and chuckled. "They use the guttural pIqaD language they've invented almost exclusively now. I hear it more and more in the market places."
"Positions. We must present a solid front," Kang ordered, standing at strict attention in his position on the right side of the aisle, on the arc made by the semicircle of stone on the floor below the dais. "Ignore their entrance, as Kahless ignored the yotlh Ha'DIbaH."
Kor grumbled again, but took up his place next to Kang, with Koloth to his right and finally Kumara on the end. The stood facing the throne, their backs arrogantly displayed to those just about to enter the room.
*****
"I hope you know what you're doing, Khalian," Chang asked as they walked down the hallway toward the doorway to the Emperor's throne room.
"Hah! General Chang, you let your Segh vav half get in the way. Of course, I know what I'm doing!"
Chang studied Admiral Khalian closely. He was pure Kh'myr, taller and heavier than he, for that matter, than any of the Segh vav. The Kh'myr were the products of a genetic engineering project intended to improve the Klingon species. He wasn't really sure if the results could be considered all that much of a success.
In the Segh vav, the pattern of ridges on your forehead would mean that you had survived to middle age and wisdom. In your case, Khalian, I'm not sure being born with them means being born wise, Chang thought as he continued his conversation. "Intentionally delaying the Emperor might be construed as a challenge, Khalian."
"I do not worry about that, Chang. I gain power within the fleet with each day."
Chang glanced back at the third member of their party, Admiral Kusan, also a full Kh'myr, although in the past decade, a moderate toward the Segh vav. He shrugged, concluding the conversation as they approached the guarded door. "My sources don't give you this much support, Admiral," Chang warned.
"You mean your spies?" It didn't surprise him that Chang was keeping an eye on him. Klingons didn't rise to positions of authority by not being aware of what their peers were up to. "They see only what I want them to see." So keep your comments to yourself, half-breed, he thought as he pretended to ignore Chang.
"Halt!" The throne room guards, two massive Segh vav warriors, stepped in front of Khalian's party, their BatlhloH's held to the admiral's throat.
Qu'valth, Khalian's done it this time, thought Chang as he waited to see what Khalian would do.
"What's the meaning of this?" Khalian said, shifting from the Kh'myr dialect to that of High Klingon. "I am Admiral Khalian, one of the emperor's chancellors and ordered here for a meeting."
"The Emperor's law forbids your disruptor in the fortress."
Chang looked at Khalian's weapon belt and saw the offending side-arm still in its holster. He shook his head. Of all the arrogant stunts, he thought. He knows that, and yet he tried to bring it in anyway.
"Place it onto the table to your right." The guards held their weapons at Khalian's throat.
Khalian growled, his hand going to the hand-grips of the weapon.
"Hah!" The guard leader bracketed Khalian's throat just below his jaw in the upper tangs of the BatlhloH. "Take care, Admiral. I would hate to see your Kh'myr head messing up the floor of my station."
Chang saw in the guard's eyes that this was a lie. He would like nothing better than to rid the Empire of this admiral. Glancing at Khalian, he saw something other than submission, and before Khalian could do anything rash, grabbed the disruptor from its holster, and placed it on the table. "There."
A disruptor beamed lanced down from the ceiling to destroy the weapon.
"Why you, Segh vav scum!" Khalian's left hand began to pull his taj, but Kusan stopped his hand.
"Not now, Khalian. Cool your temper," Kusan whispered in Khalian's ear. "You act without honor!"
"You'd better listen to him, Admiral," the guard said derisively. "I can still remove that ridged head of yours for you, and be completely within my rights."
"And my family would revenge me on yours," Khalian sputtered.
"At quite a cost, I assure you," the guard bantered.
This is getting us nowhere, thought Chang. "Come, Khalian. The Emperor waits."
"Precisely, Chang, and this Segh vav petaQ has delayed us." Khalian watched the guard withdraw back to his post. Then, loud enough for everyone in the throne room and the hall to hear, he threatened him. "I am a chancellor to the Emperor, and you have delayed me. Wait till I inform him."
The guard continued to stare forward.
Khalian growled, then stormed into the throne room.
Kusan was the last to enter and stopped by the guard for only a moment. They made eye contact and a quick set of hand signals passed between them. The guard nodded toward a spot where the ceiling met the walls of the hall. Kusan looked and saw a sensor mounted there.
"I suspect he already knows," Kusan grumbled under his breath as he joined the others.
*****
Kudan Kuras, emperor of the Klingon species and a direct descendant of the great Kahless. Latest in a long line of Segh vav, he was of an age where the ridges of wisdom should have begun wrinkling his brow, but his forehead remained nearly smooth, a desired result of generations of controlled matings by the royal household.
"They grow more powerful every day, voq'jup. I wish father had destroyed them when they first emerged." he said to the figure sitting in a chair nearby.
"You must look further back than that to place the blame, voDleH. They were already a powerful presence in the military when he ascended to the throne." the other said in a tone of voice designed to calm Kudan Kuras. "Despite all their faults, the Kh'myr are fearless warriors, and gain much loyalty even in the ranks of the Segh vav. Your father knew this and was wise in not antagonizing them."
"They are no longer satisfied with just existing. Admiral Khalian would have my throne."
"You are most wise in seeing that. Knowing this, you must always be alert and keep his ranks filled with spies," the other said.
"Oh, I do, voq'jup, I do. Nothing Khalian does goes unnoticed, but that half-breed Chang is another problem." Kudan Kuras shrugged his shoulders, resetting the armor on his shoulders.
"General Chang is a survivor, voDleH. His loyalties are only for those that are strong. He is the one to watch, joHwI', but the easiest to control. Always approach him from a position of strength, and he will remain loyal." The other stood in front of the emperor, reached up and straightened the golden circlet on Kudan Kuras' head.
Walking to the door that entered the throne room, the Emperor took possession of the royal scepter. Nearly a full kam long, the scepter was in reality the strike tooth of the last Qo'noS Dun'ghargh, a Klingon dragon, to exist. Legend had it that Kahless had killed the beast whose tooth had been carved to make the scepter. Carved into its root was the handle which fit Kudan Kuras' hand perfectly.
The Emperor started to open the door, heard an argument between the waiting chancellors, and shut it again quietly. "Curse all Kh'myr and the Segh vav females that mate with them."
"My mother mated with one, voDleH," the other reminded Kudan Kuras.
The emperor's face relaxed into a smile as he made eye contact, "Yes, I know, but you are my voq'jup, my trusted friend. I have listened to your wisdom since we were both still whelps, running around this fortress, getting into mischief and surviving. Everything you say and counsel, I know I will benefit from." He reached out and laid his left hand on the other's shoulder. "I trust my back to your care."
"Thank you, voDleH. I serve." The other bowed his head.
"Stay here and observe the meeting on the screen," Kudan Kuras said as he again opened the door. "I will need your advice on what transpires here today."
-5-
Kirk looked at his reflection in the long mirror on the wall and shook his head. Looking back at him was an aging Starfleet officer. The body was still in superb shape: strong and healthy. But there were new wrinkles on the face and legions of gray hair he could no longer control. The maroon blazer and white, french cut shirt was his favorite, because the design of its cut drew the eye to the body and away from the face.
He wasn't sure if he liked it now, as for the third time he pulled at it in a vain attempt to straighten it. Chuckling, he realized that it wasn't any better now than it had been the last time he had worked on it. Smoothing down his thinning hair with his hand he talked to himself. "Well, Squirt," he recalled the nickname his older brother had given him when they had both been young and still living on the farm in Iowa, "you're acting just like a teenager again. It hasn't been that long since you had a date, has it?"
The figure in the mirror nodded.
Looking at his chronometer, he noted the time. Better get a move on, Jim, he thought as he hurried away from the mirror into the kitchen. You've only got twenty minutes before you're supposed to pick up Uhura.
"Menu," he said to the BellComm, a small monitor on its face rewarded him with a listing of its functions. "Commodities, please." The screen listed the subjects available. "Floral." The admiral had said informal, which really meant semi-formal. He wasn't sure whether a corsage would be appropriate for the occasion, but, as he searched through the displays, he decided he didn't care what was appropriate. He wanted to give Uhura a corsage.
An arrangement he thought would especially please her caught his gaze. "Rose Classic," he ordered. Instantly, his request was sent to the processing computer, and moments later, the familiar hum of a transporter indicated the completion of his order. Reaching into the chamber, he pulled out his order. Small white buds of baby's breath perfectly complimented the deep red color of the three roses. Admiring it, he knew his choice had been a good one.
Heading for the door, he was again waylaid by the mirror on the wall. Nervously he attempted to straighten his coat.
Kirk's apartment was on the thirty-second floor of a complex at the edge of the bay. Though it wasn't far as the crow flies to Uhura's apartment, he had chosen to take a circuitous route that took him through a park.
Kirk noted the coloring of the evening sky. It's going to be a glorious sunset. How does that phrase go? He thought for a moment as he crossed over a small bridge that took him onto an island in the center of an enormous tropical fish pond. Red at night, sailor's delight. His mind wandered to Uhura, and he wondered if that pertained to relations as well.
Bordering the walkway was a stand of very tall hardwoods, surrounded in turn by open, grassy fields. Park benches had been placed inside the tree line and at the island's edge. This was a favorite haunt for the younger residents. In fact, a few hardy souls had already laid claim to their favorite spots. Looking at his chronometer, Kirk quickened his pace.
It didn't take long to locate the door with the words, "Commander Penda Nyota Uhura, U.S.S. Enterprise," on it. Straightening his coat one last time, he pressed the button to announce his presence. "Come in, sir," he heard as the door swished to the side. Kirk had to keep himself from gaping like a schoolboy as the ebony beauty came to meet him. He had never seen her so radiant.
Uhura was wearing a long, beige, formal dress designed to accentuate those properties of her physique she knew were still her best. The sash she wore bore symbols Kirk assumed came from her African heritage. The long dress covered her completely, yet here and there, it allowed just a hint of the body it covered. Kirk started to straighten his coat again.
Uhura gathered up a light shawl from the back of a lounge chair and approached the stunned captain. His reaction satisfied her. Just to accentuate it, she stopped and twirled around to give him a full dose. He was wearing an outfit she had seen him in many times before. It fit well, accentuating the lines of his strong, mature body. Glancing down at her dress, she broke the ice. "You don't think this is too formal do you, sir?"
Kirk's gaze locked with hers as he answered, "I think it will be just fine. It's beautiful." Then remembering the corsage, he took it from the box. "I'm glad I picked the roses; they'll match your dress perfectly." With a little bit of trepidation, he pinned the corsage to the dress just above her left breast.
Uhura looked admiringly at the flowers in the mirror. "I think they're beautiful. Thank you." A strong urge to run over and embrace him coursed through her as she sensed his admiring gaze on her. She had trouble dampening it as she turned toward the door. "Shall we go?"
In no time, they had reached the building and the corridor where the Commander-Starfleet made his home. A short line of people stood waiting to enter. From the open door, they could hear light music and the low rumble of on-going conversations.
After a short wait, they reached the door and entered the apartment's foyer. To their left was a small table, flanked by two antique chairs. On the table was a small lamp and a decorated wicker basket that was slowly filling up with calling cards--an antiquated tradition, started further back then anyone could remember. Kirk reached into a pocket, procured his card and dropped it into the basket. Uhura followed suit.
They stepped forward, entering the reception line to be greeted by their hosts, Admiral Cartwright and his wife, Ella. "You remember Jim Kirk, don't you, Ella?" Cartwright introduced Kirk to his wife. Another antiquated formality.
"Oh, yes." Ella looked at Kirk, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "I remember him well." Not nearly as dark as Uhura, Ella Cartwright proudly traced her family heritage back to the Moors of Northern Africa. Then she began to pout just a little. "Who is this with you, Jim?"
The admiral didn't miss his wife's teasing.
"Admiral, Ella, I'd like to introduce Commander Nyota Uhura, my chief communications officer," Kirk said.
Admiral Cartwright nodded, an appreciative look on his face, but Ella was the one to comment. "I can well understand why that's her calling. Thank you for coming to the party."
Kirk and Uhura moved on, to be replaced by the next couple in the receiving line. The large front room had an expansive window overlooking San Francisco's bay. The center of the room was now empty, the furniture that normally occupied the space arranged around the edges. At present, friends and compatriots renewed old acquaintances. In the center of the nearby dining room was a large table, covered with an array of hoers d'oeuvres and sweets.
Kirk and Uhura mixed in with the other officers. When a group with so many common interests got together, it was impossible not to talk shop. In no time, they had found a group of officers they knew and had joined them in conversation. Having Uhura here made it easier for Kirk, since she readily became involved in the same discussions he did.
As he watched her recount one of her adventures as the commander of the Sadat, he found himself looking forward to the next two weeks with her family. At first, he'd been a little apprehensive about spending so much time in someone else's home, but last night's outing and tonight's party were easing these concerns.
The apartment's entertainment system began playing dance music, and, as couples gravitated to the dance floor, Kirk and Uhura found themselves among them. Surprisingly, it was one of Kirk's favorites. Then he realized that it was a song he and Ella had listened to often during their time in the Academy. As the wife of the Commanding Admiral of Starfleet, it was her informal duty to match all single officers with someone special. Searching the room, he finally located her, and the smile on her face betrayed her involvement. Noticing his gaze, she winked.
Uhura loved to dance, and the slow, three quarter time piece was also one of her favorites. As they moved across the floor, her mind reviewed the recent turn of events. She always looked forward to time spent with her folks, but now she had an even better reason to anticipate it. Uncertain at the time of her ground concerning her invitation, she was glad Kirk had accepted. She wasn't sure how he would react to the rugged life on a working ranch. But, he did grow up on a farm, she reminded herself, and that's not so much different.
Strong feelings, long stored away, warmed her heart, then she remembered his fanatical love for his command and it cooled. However, near the conclusion of this last mission, she had also noticed a change in him. While his decisions were still lightning quick and intuitively correct, and his tactical genius had gotten them through more tight spots than was decent to mention, his enthusiasm for it was waning. It was as if he had finally become weary of the constant day-to-day pressure. This, along with the tenderness he had shown her these past two days, fueled the hope that a previously unreachable dream just might be coming true.
The music played continuously, and each song seemed a favorite. The atmosphere was right, the lights low, and the dance floor not too crowded or too open. The bond between the commander and her captain grew stronger as they circled the dance floor, forgetting their professional relationship, letting the stress and strain of the last few years drain away.
Within no time, Uhura, whose voice and singing abilities were famous over the subspace channels, was humming in tune with the music. Kirk loved her voice and never missed a chance to hear it on the recreation deck. It vibrated throughout his being, his soul. He slipped through the final transition from starship commander to lover as they glided over the floor, oblivious to the others around them.
*****
Later, Kirk and Uhura left the party and found themselves heading back into the park. The night sky was flawlessly clear and full of stars. With just a hint of a warm breeze to stir the leaves, and the chirp of crickets, the couple strolled the empty walk.
Uhura noticed the sky and allowed her mind to replace these northern latitude constellations with those over her African birthplace. There would be the Centaur and Cross, the constellations that had guided her ancestors. It was so beautiful and perfect. The two found a spot and sat in one of the park's numerous grassy glades.
"You know if you take away the apartments on the skyline and a few of the trees, this is not unlike where we will be tomorrow night," she said, cuddling up close.
"Is that right? I thought your home would be drier--all savanna." Changing the subject, he asked what had been in the back of his mind ever since she had invited him. "Does the animal reserve near your home have any lions?"
"Yes, but they're strictly controlled on the reserves." She now felt comfortable with dropping the formalities and omitted the customary, "sir."
"I'd like to see them while we're there; I've never seen Terran lions in the wild," Kirk said, dreamily. "Only in zoos."
"Done, Jim. If that's all you want while we're there, this is going to be easy." But she knew there would be more and looked forward to it.
"Well, I'm sure there will be more. Actually, I would really enjoy an uneventful, quiet time with you." Kirk put his arm around her, sharing his warmth.
Kirk was thoroughly enjoying himself. Peace and quiet had been such a rare thing in his life, and he had always dreamed of that beach where he could walk and enjoy doing nothing. In the last few years, this dream had been recurring and growing in intensity. Only now, he couldn't imagine that walk without this beauty at his side. Was Uhura what the dream had been missing?
"We'd better be leaving, if we're going to be ready for our trip tomorrow," Kirk said after what seemed an eternity. "Nyota, I'm looking forward to the visit." Especially with you, he thought as he looked into her eyes.
"Me, too. I can't remember when I've enjoyed myself more than tonight." Uhura smiled contentedly.
As they got up, her hand in his felt normal as they slowly made their way to her quarters. The walk back went undisturbed. The slight fog of deepening night and the cool moist air caused the couple to cuddle closer. Too soon, they reached the boundaries of the park.
Outside her quarters, she faced him. "Would you like to come in for coffee, Jim?"
"Sounds good, Nyota, but I'll have to take a rain check. Thank you for the offer, though." It would have been nice to spend the night with her, but his reaction to her closeness was not just physical but psychological as well. The affection he felt was the kind that could wait. For now, he would just enjoy the closeness of their embrace as they kissed each other good night.
Kirk barely noticed the walk back to his quarters as he relived the night's events. Bones, he thought, you couldn't have prescribed a better treatment.
*****
The sun rose from behind the treeline in a fiery display that reflected reds, oranges and deep yellows from the morning's clouds. Kirk had seen few better sunrises anywhere else in the galaxy.
The sky had still been dark when he had gotten up to pack his bags, then later