Constellations (24 page)

Dr. M'Benga eyed them each briefly, then moved to the Vulcan. “You'd better take it easy, Mr. Spock. You've been through a lot.”

“Indeed,” Spock murmured.

Kirk's mind was spinning. Yes, the Klingon machine had merged their minds together. Spock had drawn strength from him and McCoy, enough to reassert his Vulcan disciplines and pull them all out of his mindscape.

And Kirk? Had he also taken something from the merge…?

“Captain. Doctor.” Spock's voice was raspy, his head almost perfectly still on the bed. “My thanks.”

McCoy sat up, pulled the leads off his head. “It was worth it, Spock. Now you owe me one.”

Kirk looked at his first officer, weak and unmoving on the bed. He recalled the way Pike had barked at the Vulcan, the trauma it had induced in Spock's mindscape.

Maybe I
have
been a little hard on Mr. Chekov,
Kirk thought.

The ship shook with a harsh impact. Kirk looked up in alarm. He recognized the distinctive vibration of a phaser attack.

As if on cue, the intercom blipped.

“Any progress, Doctor?”
Scotty's voice said.

Kirk tested himself, swung his legs around, and climbed to his feet. He crossed to McCoy's desk, pressed the intercom button. “Kirk here, Scotty. I'm on my way.”

“Glad to hear it, Captain.”

McCoy stood with M'Benga now, over Spock's body. Kirk hesitated, remembering his own words to McCoy a short time ago. He moved to their side.

“Mr. Spock,” Kirk said slowly. “I could really use your help.”

Spock nodded, tried to rise. “Just…one moment, Captain…”

He slipped, fell back onto the bed. McCoy and M'Benga grabbed him together, rolled him onto his back. Spock lay still.

“I'd advise against it,” M'Benga said.

“Absolutely not, Jim. Not possible.”

“Bones…”

I need Spock,
he started to say.
I need his guidance, his ability to sort and evaluate information. I need his talent for—

—Chaotic Response Suppression.

The moment the phrase popped into Kirk's mind, he saw the whole process laid out before him. Phase One: Calm the mental processes. Allow the garden to bloom. Push all external stimuli to the side. Phase Two: Employ logic. Evaluate all variables dispassionately, emotionlessly—

Kirk had never realized before just how rigorous Vulcan logic training really was. Spock had studied all his life—years, decades—to train his mind to this peak. And now…

Now,
he realized,
I've absorbed it all from him in a matter of minutes.

Those skills would fade, he knew. That was the nature of a mind-meld. Like a dream, the particulars would melt away, while the core memory of the experience remained.

But right now, Kirk possessed all the mental discipline of a Vulcan.

He closed his eyes, cleared his mind, and employed Chaotic Response Suppression. He saw the possible scenarios on the bridge, all the various ways the battle against the Klingons might play out. He inserted himself, with his new abilities, into the scenarios, one by one. All in the space of a millisecond.

And something else, too. His own human intuition—the unquantifiable, illogical talent that made him a starship captain—became part of the process. He could not only see the various scenarios, not only sort the necessary data. He could also pick and choose among those scenarios, zeroing in on the actual outcomes of each possible action. He could see which way the Klingons would jump if prodded. How far he could push the engines beyond their specs. How each of his officers would respond under pressure. How much pounding his ship could take, and how much the Klingon cruisers would withstand.

Beyond any doubt, Kirk knew:
I can do this.

He looked over at Spock, who was struggling to rise again. McCoy and M'Benga protested, holding his arms.

“Captain,” Spock said weakly. “If you will just allow me a minute…”

“Not necessary, Mr. Spock. As you were.”

“It is my duty to assist you—”

“You already have.”

Spock raised an eyebrow questioningly. McCoy and M'Benga turned to face Kirk as well, their expressions equally curious.

Kirk smiled. “I value your presence on the bridge, Mr. Spock. I want you back at your post as soon as possible. But right now…” He tapped his own head. “I got this one.”

Then he sprinted for the door. When he reached it, he stopped, turned back briefly.

“Oh, and Mr. Spock…when you're better, perhaps we can have a bit of a discussion about Phase Two. Is it a necessary precursor to
Kolinahr,
or are there other paths?”

Spock's eyebrow rose again, higher than Kirk had ever seen it before.

“Jim,” McCoy said, “if you're turnin' Vulcan on me, let me know so I can transfer to another ship.”

The deck shook again, and Kirk ran for the turbolift.

All around him, in the corridor, red-alert lights flashed. Men and women in life-support suits hurried by. Intercoms crackled with urgent orders. Whole decks were being evacuated, and emergency protocols enacted on the warp core. Four hundred thirty officers and crew scrambled to perform their duties, not knowing if they'd live to see another day.

But despite the chaos, Kirk smiled.

This battle, he knew, was already won.

Christopher L. Bennett has been keeping pretty busy lately. In addition to “As Others See Us” and the recent
X-Men: Watchers on the Walls
, his current projects include
Star Trek: Mere Anarchy, Book Four: The Darkness Drops Again
, a Spider-Man novel, a
Star Trek: The Lost Era
novel, a
Star Trek: Corps of Engineers
e-book, and a recently completed original science fiction novel he hopes to sell soon. This is in addition to the critically acclaimed novels
Star Trek: Ex Machina
and
Star Trek Titan: Orion's Hounds
, stories in the anthologies
Star Trek: Deep Space Nine—Prophecy and Change
and
Star Trek: Voyager—Distant Shores
, and the e-book
Star Trek: S.C.E. #29: Aftermath
(soon to be reprinted in a trade paperback of the same name). One of these days, he may actually get his name on a book that doesn't have any colons in the title. More information, original fiction, and cat pictures can be found at http://home.fuse.net/ChristopherLBennett/.

Deyin Kaiyel-Ned stood at the prow of the good ship
Enai-ra
as it steamed boldly forward, leading her merchant fleet into waters where no Yemai had sailed before. She liked to be at the forefront, literally as well as figuratively—to be the very first civilized being to pass into these strange new realms. If there was arrogance to that, she had earned it, winning her admiral's rank with the same ambition and ingenuity that had driven her foremothers, and others like them, to master the power of steam and use it to expand Yemai influence across the formerly untamed reaches of the globe.

To be sure, Deyin's main objective, like that of her crew, was the wealth that could be found in the great unknown. Distant lands teemed with exotica that the wealthy classes of Yemai would pay a queen's ransom for—from spices and fabrics to intoxicants and slaves. This had always been so. Now, though, the rise of capitalism created even more incentive for exploring distant lands, in search of new resources to build industries upon, new farmlands to feed the growing mass of workers, and new markets of backward, exploitable natives who would sell their own children in exchange for simple tools, guns, or medicines.

This fleet's destination, the Ilaiyen Archipelago, promised to be particularly lucrative, if the legends and rumors were borne out. Those few travelers who had returned from Ilaiyen—or claimed to have been there—told of an incredibly lush and fertile land possessing miraculous powers of healing and rejuvenation. Even if the tales were pure fiction, as Deyin suspected, the people back home would shell out fortunes for Ilaiyen goods anyway, and Deyin would not feel the least bit compelled to dissuade their wishful thinking. And the simple, gentle fisherfolk described by the travelers, with their primitive huts and dugout canoes, would no doubt be just as easily persuaded to give up their resources and their secrets in exchange for a few shiny baubles and displays of industrial-age magic.

But to Deyin, the material prize was only part of it. She found excitement in the exploration itself—discovering exotic lands untouched by civilization, marveling at the bizarre forms that plants, animals, and people mutated into under the influence of alien climes. Being the first to see something never before seen, to battle monstrous new beasts and bring back their corpses to the Imperial Museum. The first to teach an innocent tribe of the world beyond their shores. The first to observe their strange customs and superstitions, and the first to show them the error of their ways.

And if those natives should happen to resist enlightenment, or to be recalcitrant in agreeing to her entirely reasonable trade policies (for of course it was only reasonable that the Yemai Empire, with its greater needs, should benefit more from the trade than a bunch of simple villagers), then the resulting combat provided yet another form of excitement. It kept her crew sharp for battling the fleets of rival powers, seeking to make their own trade deals at Yemai expense. Deyin relished those contests as well, for they let her exercise strategy and cunning against worthy foes.

All in all, this was the greatest life any soul could hope for. Deyin could not imagine any grander adventure.

Someone was watching her, she realized. Turning slightly, she saw in her peripheral vision that it was Jeyam Tybris-Kir, one of the fresh recruits who had come aboard at Reihairem. He and the four who'd boarded with him were an odd bunch—all of them atypically small, and not very strong, save for Seyar Mandas-Pok, the quiet, cool one who always kept his headscarf pulled down over his ears. Their brows and nasal crests were oddly immobile, making it hard to read their expressions sometimes. There was only one woman in the group, and she was oddly deferential to the males, particularly Jeyam. Deyin figured that despite their Yemai names, they must be from some exotic land whose people had not yet been fully civilized. Reihairem was the most remote Yemai port, only a few days' travel from the archipelago they sought. It certainly had its share of outlanders. (Perhaps this bunch had even changed their names in order to assimilate. A few times, Deyin had heard Jeyam's friends pronounce his name oddly, closer to “Jyim.”)

Not that they weren't a useful bunch. The older one, Leyan Ardem-Koi, was a skilled physician, and Seyar seemed knowledgeable in all sorts of things. The others may not have had much physical strength, but they were disciplined and worked hard. Yet there was a fire lacking in them. They didn't seem to share the rest of the crew's eagerness to acquire wealth or battle savages. If anything, while the rest of the crew looked outward and forward toward the next conquest, these five seemed more interested in watching the crew itself. The woman in particular, Teyar Risar-Gan, reminded her of a naturalist studying a newly discovered tribe, except it was Yemai sailors that she was studying.

“May I help you with something, Seaman Jeyam?” she asked, without turning more than necessary to make sure her words reached his ears.

“No, thank you.” Though he was soft-spoken, there was a commanding tone in his voice. She didn't like that.

“Then you should get back to your duties.”

“I've finished my tasks, Admiral.”

Skeptical, she turned to face him. “So quickly?”

“I've…had some experience with ships.”

“Then ask the captain to assign you a new chore.”

“I did. She said I'd earned a rest.”

“And you choose to take it here? With our speed blowing sea spray into your face?”

He smiled. “You seem to enjoy it.”

“I was born with the spray in my face. But I wouldn't have thought a scrawny thing like you would tolerate it well.”

“I can handle a little speed.”

“You couldn't handle me,” she told him, getting to the point. “If I want a tryst, I have my pick of much worthier males. You should set your sights lower. Your comrade Teyar, perhaps.”

“That's…not really an option. Besides,” and he gave her that annoying smile again, “I enjoy a challenge.”

“I'd believe that if you showed more enthusiasm for our mission. Have you no ambition to bring back wealth and glory and tales of triumph? Or are your people too dainty to handle the combat that may lie ahead?”

“We can handle ourselves, if we have to,” he told her, sounding supremely confident. “But we signed onto your ship…because we want to explore. To learn about new peoples, how they live, how they think.”

“Really. And what will you do with that knowledge?”

He shrugged. “It's for other people to determine whether it has any practical use. For myself, I simply…wonder in it.”

Deyin stared at him. She was beginning to realize that this man might be a kindred spirit, someone who could understand her love of exploration and adventure.

And that made him even more annoying.

“Go find something else to do,” she told him. “That's an order.”

But Jeyam no longer seemed to be listening. He was staring intently at something up ahead. Deyin cast a glance in that direction but could make out nothing save the horizon, made misty by the dense intervening air.

But a moment later, the signal bell began to ring. Deyin's eyes rose sharply to the sky, homing in on the large kite that soared above the ship, attached to it by a strong cable. The kiteman was flashing his signal mirror in one hand while he pulled the bell cord with the other. He had spotted land at last. According to his heliographic code, the land was a chain of islands that matched the likely parameters of Ilaiyen, as correlated from the mariners' tales. The location was right, too.

Deyin rushed to the wheelhouse, ordering the captain to change course and signal the fleet to follow. “Is this it at last?” Nohin Yiamed-Ba asked, skepticism and excitement warring on her face.

“I assume nothing, Captain. But I'm optimistic. Make ready as though it is, in any case. We must present the proper first impression.”

“Aye, Admiral.”

Deyin turned and was surprised to see that Jeyam had followed her into the wheelhouse. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged. “You ordered me to find something to do—I came to see what needed to be done. May I ask…what kind of impression are we trying to present?”

With the thrill of impending landfall, Deyin decided she was in a generous mood, so she indulged him. “The people there—whether Ilaiyenai or just some random tribe—will be simple, primitive folk. We don't want to spook them by coming on too strong. We go in with just the
Enai-ra
at first. We present ourselves as simply a small group of traders, and show them just enough of our technology to spark their curiosity, not enough to alarm them. We say nothing at first about our long-term commercial intentions.”

“Then why present ourselves as traders at all?”

She looked askance at the poor naïve thing. “Trade is the universal language, lad. If some odd-looking, gibberish-speaking savage came ashore in the imperial city, people would run screaming for the police, having no idea of her intentions. But if she then went to the market square and began to haggle, suddenly people would be at ease, for then they would understand how to relate to her.”

She smirked. “After all, what else do we have in common with these half-naked primitives? Would we want to meet them at all if they had nothing to offer us?”

“They offer us knowledge. The opportunity to see something new, to study a unique way of life.”

“True…there is that. But even that is precious wealth to the naturalists. Especially since that way of life won't last for much longer.”

Jeyam seemed saddened by her words. “Isn't there some way it can be allowed to?”

“You would condemn these people to eternal backwardness? Deny them the chance to catch up with the rest of the world? Just for the sake of scientific curiosity?”

“I…just think people should have the chance to make their own decisions.”

“So do I,” she said, “once they're educated enough to make valid ones.” She was growing tired of this discussion. “You came to find something to do, so go ask Captain Nohin. Stop bothering me with your incessant questions.”

He seemed on the verge of speaking, but restrained himself and nodded. “Aye, Admiral,” he said, and went to consult with the captain.

Good,
she thought. Jeyam's point of view convinced her further that he must be from some backward people himself, only recently civilized and still clinging to a romantic view of the past. She didn't have time for such antiquated thinking. Especially not when his naïve beliefs could jeopardize this contact. Deyin decided she'd have to keep a close eye on this man.

 

Soon enough, the
Enai-ra
was sailing into a large, idyllic lagoon, protected from the wind by gently sloping mountains whose sides practically glowed with vivid blue-green forests. Clear waves caressed a wide, sandy beach, inland of which was a large cluster of huts woven from the native plants. The village extended back to the edge of the tropical forest behind it, almost seeming to merge with it, like a natural extension. Grass-skirted islanders looked up with excitement and surprise as the steamship lumbered toward their shore, running to the huts to rouse their fellow villagers, but they showed more curiosity than fear or hostility. Soon, parties of men with female leaders began boarding dugouts and paddling out to meet the ship.

“Look at it,” James Kirk said as he surveyed the scene before him. “It's paradise.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” replied Leonard McCoy, scratching at his nose. Of all the members of the landing party, he'd had the most trouble following his own advice to leave the facial prosthetics alone, so as not to damage the illusion that they were natives to Sigma Niobe II. At a glare from Kirk, he subsided. “Even if these turn out not to be the Ilaiyens,” and typically he mangled the pronunciation, “the Yemai will find some way to exploit the life out of them.”

Kirk shook his head. “I wish I could've gotten through to Deyin. She's not so bad. She's an explorer at heart. But she's a product of her time, her culture.”