Constellations (6 page)

Other than the periodic offers to assist her, McCoy had said almost nothing during their hike from the village. She sensed his discomfort, and though she had said nothing to the effect herself, Jendra was thankful for the silence. Despite the way she had faced off against Captain Kirk, she had felt constantly on guard, required to justify actions that before the
Enterprise
officers' arrival she was certain were unquestionably the right thing to do, from a moral perspective if not a legal one. She knew that—on some level, at least—McCoy agreed with her, but Jendra nevertheless was grateful for a respite from having to defend herself.

“There she is,” McCoy said after a moment, pointing to his right. A glint of artificial light flickered through the trees, and as they drew closer Jendra could make out the straight, smooth lines of the shuttlecraft
Columbus.
Sitting in the center of a small glade barely large enough to accommodate it, the vessel's flat gray-white hull and bright red striping contrasted sharply with the muted browns and greens of the surrounding forest.

She and McCoy emerged from the woods near the shuttle's left side, and as they approached, Kirk stepped through the craft's open hatch and down onto the ground. All traces of his Grennai disguise—the white hair, prosthetic ears, and artificial skin pigmentation—were gone, and he was now wearing his standard Starfleet captain's uniform.

“Hello, Doctor,” Kirk said, offering a smile that, while guarded, still retained much of the charm Jendra had observed earlier.

If I were thirty years younger…I think I'd still be more interested in his first officer.

“Captain,” she said, nodding her head in greeting as she slid the pack from her shoulders and set it on the ground at her feet.

“How are your patients faring?” the captain asked.

Pausing to wipe perspiration from her brow, Jendra replied, “We lost five, all told, but three others are still missing. More than a dozen wounded, but they should recover in time.” Feeling the resignation creep into her voice, she added, “They've not found the foreman, Crimar. He was the most knowledgeable metalworker among them, and he was a friend to me. It's quite a setback for us…that is, for the whole village.”

She had been surprised by Kirk's decision to let her remain at the village and oversee the treatment of the fire victims. He could have had her transported to his ship without another word on the subject, of course. That he had not done so spoke volumes about the man's character, so far as she was concerned.

Leonard was right about him, I think.

“You know these people,” Kirk said after a moment. “Will they be able to rebuild the ironworks in short order? Get back on their feet?”

Jendra shrugged. “The building's a total loss. Collapsed in on itself during the fire. They'll have to start from scratch, but if I know them, they'll be just fine. I never thanked you for your help, Captain. You saved a lot of lives. It would have been easy just to stand back and let things happen without…interfering.”

The smile on Kirk's face faded, and he seemed to take on a wistful expression for the briefest of moments before shaking his head. “Easy? Not really, no.” When he spoke the words, Jendra saw for the first time that this man had encountered similar dilemmas in the past and been forced to make difficult decisions in the face of such crises. She could not be sure, but she sensed that he might even harbor guilt over the results of at least some of those choices.

More to him than meets the eye, I'll grant that.

She caught movement behind the captain and looked up to see Spock exiting the shuttlecraft. Like Kirk, the Vulcan also was dressed in Starfleet garb, all vestiges of his Grennai persona gone. “I take it the local look didn't agree with you gentlemen?” she asked.

“The need for us to interact with the indigenous population has ended,” Spock said. “There was also the matter of my…compromised disguise.”

“One of his ears melted at the fire,” Kirk deadpanned, his expression remaining fixed and neutral.

“Damn shame, too,” McCoy said. “I thought it was an improvement. Spock, you were almost likable.”

Jendra started to laugh but was interrupted by a coughing fit so severe that it felt as though her lungs were tearing. McCoy moved to her side, maneuvering her so that she could sit on the steps leading into the shuttlecraft. After taking a moment to catch her breath, she looked up to Kirk, sighing. “All right, let's get this over with, Captain. I'm only here because I'm too damned tired to outrun or outfox you. What's done is done, I suppose I'm ready to atone for my actions, and I want to do it while I'm still breathing.” She had given her word to Kirk that she would not attempt to flee the village, in return for his allowing her to tend to the victims of the fire. Despite momentary temptation, she had every intention of keeping her promise, no matter how difficult it was to do so.

Kirk regarded her in silence for several heartbeats, and Jendra thought she saw conflict behind the captain's bright, hazel eyes. His jaw line tightened, and he inhaled a deep breath before drawing himself to his full height and squaring his shoulders.

“No.”

Confused by the abrupt statement, Jendra blinked several times. “No, what?”

“While waiting for you this morning,” Kirk said, “I completed my after-action report for Starfleet Command. I haven't yet transmitted it, but it says that you died earlier this morning from complications due to injuries you suffered while rescuing Grennai villagers from the fire.”

“Jim?” McCoy said, and Jendra was sure that her friend's expression of uncertainty mirrored her own. She found herself fumbling for something to say.

Finally, she managed to whisper, “I don't understand.”

“My report will also state that your body was interred in accordance with local Grennai customs,” Kirk continued, “and that your presence didn't introduce any obvious or permanent cultural contamination. Our mission here was concluded without further incident.” Looking down at her, he smiled again. “It's not often that someone gets the opportunity to correct a mistake, Doctor. I wasn't sure about this until just a little while ago, but I think you should have that opportunity.”

Her eyes darted from Kirk's face to McCoy's, and she saw a knowing smile spreading across her friend's features.

“I'll be damned,” McCoy said, shaking his head before looking at Spock. “You're going along with this, too?”

The Vulcan nodded. “While I do not condone violation of the Prime Directive, Doctor, this situation is somewhat unique. Dr. Jendra's efforts, limited though they may be, do serve a noble purpose. It seems logical to allow her to continue.”

“And you're okay with lying?” McCoy asked.

His right eyebrow arching, Spock replied, “It is not a lie to protect the truth from those who would act against it without concern for mitigating circumstances, Doctor. In this matter, I believe Starfleet to be wrong, both then and now.”

“My God,” McCoy said in mock astonishment. “I need a drink.”

Now unable to stifle a joyous laugh even as she felt her eyes watering, Jendra reached out until she could grasp Kirk's hands in her own. “Thank you, Captain. I don't know what to say.”

“It's my pleasure, Doctor.” Casting a quick glance toward the approaching sunrise, he said, “It's almost daybreak, and we need to be going.” He offered a look at McCoy. “But we've still got a few minutes, Bones.”

The captain and Spock offered their farewells and good luck wishes before climbing into the shuttlecraft, leaving McCoy alone with her even as she wiped tears from her face. Ever the gentleman, he produced a handkerchief for her.

“Leonard,” she said, “I don't believe it.”

“I probably shouldn't, either,” McCoy replied, “but I know better. This isn't the first time I've seen Jim wring a second chance out of a bad situation.” He reached into his robe and withdrew a small pouch and offered it to her. “A parting gift, I suppose. It's not much, but you might be able to do some good with it.” She saw tears welling up in his eyes as he pulled her close, his voice trembling as he planted a soft kiss on her weathered forehead. “Take care of yourself, Revati.”

Jendra stepped back from the shuttlecraft as McCoy climbed aboard, turning to wave once more to her before the hatch was closed. A moment later, she felt the rush of wind whipping her clothes and her hair as the vessel's thrusters lifted it into the air and pushed it into the slowly brightening sky.

As the echo of the departing shuttle's engines faded, Jendra looked down at the pouch in her hand and opened its protective flap, only to find several vials of tablets. The labels on the vials identified the medicine as the hyronalin derivative she had lacked for these many weeks. While the medication would not reverse her condition, it certainly would allow her much more time among the Grennai than she might have hoped for.

Given the extra time, she might even find a substitute remedy, she decided.

Clutching the medication to her chest, Revati Jendra closed her eyes and offered silent thanks for the fortune that had been visited upon her.

Leonard, my friend, your captain is hardly the only giver of second chances.

In 1968 he snuck downstairs and saw his father watching a TV show where three colorful people were disappearing into thin air. That was his first glimpse of
Star Trek,
and it must have made an indelible impression because he has written about or for the series ever since. Articles for the school newspaper led to fanzine articles, and from there he wound up editing the
Star Trek
comic book for DC Comics. He began writing for the
Star Trek
fiction line in 1990 with the first of several collaborations. Since then, he has written four solo novels and a handful of short stories.

Additionally, Bob has worked in the comic book business, logging twenty years with DC Comics and one year with Marvel. His various titles included Senior Editor and Director–Publishing Operations.

He has written some original short fiction and over a dozen young adult nonfiction books on a wide variety of subjects.

A lifelong New York Mets fan, he currently makes his home in Connecticut with his wife, Deb. His daughter, Kate, has fled home for Washington, D.C., and his son, Robbie, is attending college clear across the state. Learn more at www.bobgreenberger.com.

Kirk wasn't sure what they called the device in McCoy's hand, but it seemed to be doing the job, quickly sealing closed the wound on Sulu's left shoulder. The lieutenant, lying limp on the diagnostic bed, barely twitched in reaction to the device's softly humming activity. Anxiously, Kirk stole glances at the monitor above the bed, reassuring himself the helmsman's condition was as stable as the deep thump of the heart monitor suggested. He'd been standing in place for several minutes, watching in silence, knowing he needed to let the doctor do his job without interruption. For an idle moment, he was impressed by how quickly his new chief medical officer had stepped into the role. McCoy was older than Kirk, but not as old as Mark Piper, who was about to retire and had rotated off the
Enterprise
just weeks before.

He'd been in command just over a year and still felt everyone was treating him like he was fresh out of the Academy. Surrounding himself with the older medic and even his first officer, Spock, made him self-conscious of his youth, which he had always seen as an advantage. Turning his attention back to Sulu, Kirk reminded himself that the lieutenant's youth and strength were likewise assets at this critical time.

McCoy accepted another device from Nurse Chapel, and the captain remained transfixed. He ignored Spock's presence, which he felt behind him. Kirk couldn't help but feel a flash of guilt, wondering whether, if Spock had been more persuasive, Sulu wouldn't be lying on that bed. Had Kirk rushed to judgment, relying too much on his own instincts and too little on Spock's logic? Still, another part of him recognized that if it wasn't Sulu, it would be a different crewman on that bed, being put back together. What happened wasn't Sulu's fault.

“That should do it,” McCoy suddenly said out loud. His instructions to Chapel had been low-voiced, demanding things Kirk couldn't make out. But this remark was clearly intended for his guests.

“What's the prognosis?”

“Well, Captain,” McCoy said, wiping his hands on a sterile cloth, Sulu's blood turning the shiny blue fabric a dull purple, “while the lieutenant here has a lot of injuries, none of them are life-threatening. I've stitched him up, knit a few bones, and treated the rest. He needs forty-eight hours bed rest in sickbay and then maybe another day in his quarters before he's fit for duty.”

“So noted. Thank you, Doctor,” Kirk said.

“I'm not done,” McCoy interrupted. Kirk gave him a quizzical look.

“He was barely conscious when they brought him in here,” the doctor continued. “He managed to explain what had happened to him, and maybe it was the shock of the injuries, maybe not, but I'm certain this rattled him. A lot.”

“Rattled?”

“Jim, you sent him down there ill-prepared for that place and it shook him to his core. When I got him, he was scared to death. He's likely got psychological injuries, and those may be harder to heal than the physical ones.”

Kirk was thankful that the doctor stopped the harangue, but then saw that McCoy was staring at him. He could only imagine what expression he was projecting. Sucking in a lungful of air, he tried to calm his feelings.

“Look,” McCoy said, “I don't know this kid yet. In fact, I'm still learning about the entire crew, so I don't have an informed opinion, just adding up my observations. When he awakens, I'll talk to him and make a better evaluation.”

“Thank you,” Kirk said quietly, flicking his eyes once more to Sulu's body. He was reassured by the steady breathing.

“Now get out of here, I have an autopsy to perform.”

 

As the captain and first officer left, McCoy and Chapel gathered up their tools and cleaned up around the bed where Sulu lay still. He didn't want to open his eyes, didn't want to answer questions. Too many parts of his body were sore, too many parts felt numb from anesthetic, and besides, they were discussing him. He heard the conversation, every word, and had to agree with the doctor: He wasn't prepared for that planet. In fact, he wasn't sure he was prepared for his new career and was coming to regret his decision. Because of that lack of preparation, someone died. Maybe it should have been him.

 

On the way to the turbolift, Kirk brooded. Everything about this landing party bothered him. He'd lost crew before, although he had to admit, he never imagined he'd lose as many since taking command. While he normally disliked comparing himself with the captains who had preceded him, he knew his mortality rate was higher than Chris Pike's, and that angered him.

“Computer, deck five,” Kirk ordered as the doors closed. “Mr. Spock, keep the ship in orbit another twenty-four hours. I want to make sure that planet is secure before we leave. I'm leaving you in command,” he said as his hand twisted the turbolift's control wand.

Spock merely nodded, keeping his comments to himself, which was just fine with the captain.

The turbolift slowed to a stop, went horizontal for a few moments, and then resumed its vertical path. As the doors opened seconds later, Kirk stepped out, feeling his first officer's eyes on his back.

 

Eschewing the center seat for the moment, Spock sat in silent contemplation at his usual bridge station, his arms folded across his chest. He had ample time to begin his review of the tricorder records that had been taken on the surface below, the first logical step to understanding what had transpired.

With a few deft flicks of the controls to his left, Spock summoned the audiovisual transcripts from the three tricorders belonging to the landing party. Their contents had been automatically uploaded to the computer library banks as soon as the party returned to the ship. Three screens above Spock's station flickered to life as the recordings began to play. As he adjusted the controls, modifying the playback speeds for his preference, Spock allowed his mind to review the recent past.

Weeks ago, following a disastrous mission to the edge of the galaxy, three key personnel were lost in the line of duty: the ship's helmsman, the senior navigator, and the ship's psychiatrist. At a command staff meeting, Kirk reviewed the various staff openings that needed addressing. Piper's retirement had already been in the works, but now Alden at communications had requested a transfer to be with his fiancée, and engineering had an opening. Spock, as first officer, was reviewing internal candidates for consideration before Kirk turned to Starfleet Command for fresh personnel. Kirk had made it clear, when he took command, that he always wanted to start looking internally, letting the crew know that advancement was possible during his tenure as captain.

The command staff had determined the need to bring on at least a new engineer and communications officer, but decided on promoting Janice Rand to replace Smith as the captain's yeoman. Kirk and Smith had not established a good working rapport, so Spock suggested a more experienced person in the role. Helm remained an open question as the meeting ended.

A day later, Spock was finishing a meal when Kirk approached him in the mess, a smile on his face.

“We may have solved our problem at helm,” Kirk said. “After yesterday's meeting, Hikaru Sulu came to see me. He wants to move from astrophysics to the helm. I looked at his record. The kid has terrific scores.”

“Indeed he does,” Spock said. In his mind, the move did not make sense to him or for the lieutenant.

“I know that tone, Spock,” Kirk said, taking a seat. “You disapprove.”

While Spock was still learning to “read” the captain, James T. Kirk had more rapidly learned to read the Vulcan. Uncertain if the mess hall was the best place for the conversation, he hesitated.

“Go ahead, Spock,” Kirk encouraged.

“Lieutenant Sulu has the makings of an exceptional scientist. His scores alone show an innate spatial sense that has been borne out by his work aboard the ship. The science staff responds well to him, and he is an excellent section leader. The lieutenant has what you might consider an unquenchable curiosity in a wide variety of subjects. He has taken, recently, to spending his off-hours in the botany lab, getting to know the various plants we have under observation.”

“So, you discount his ability to move to the command track?”

“On the contrary, if the lieutenant put his mind to it, he could make an excellent commander. However, I see him best serving this ship and Starfleet in the sciences.”

“You said it yourself, Spock,” Kirk countered, his expression showing he relished the debate. “He's interested in a great many things. Did you know he tested as a crack shot? Between that and his physical reports, he'd excel in security, too. Why trap him in one department? If we move him to the bridge, that would put him on the command track and his interests would be sated. We'd certainly get a better officer out of the deal.”

“On the other hand, sir, he might also be what you humans call a jack-of-all-trades and master of none. By working with him in my department, we can get a specialist in a more focused number of fields, the yield being that we'd all benefit from his knowledge.”

“But, Spock, he's got a terrific feel for space, which would make him a gifted helmsman. His simulator scores were among the top in his class.”

Spock cocked an eyebrow at Kirk, choosing to let the captain have the officer rather than create disharmony between them. “I see you have done your research and have given this a good deal of thought. Arguing with you further would not change your mind.”

“You give in too easily,” Kirk said, still smiling.

“Not at all, I merely know when an argument is no longer productive. You wish to make the transfer.”

“Yes, I do. Helm is an important position and a strong part of the command staff. I want the crew to know that opportunities like this can happen. I'm not just picking a raw kid out of the lower decks. He's already a section head so this is a logical step in his career, sideways as it seems to you.”

“I'll process the change orders and begin searching for a new astrophysicist.”

Kirk nodded and stood, clearly enjoying the victory. As the captain strode out of the mess, Spock remained at the table. This captain was nothing like Christopher Pike, the only other captain he had served with. Pike was more cerebral, relying as much on experience as on the Starfleet guidelines. Kirk, though, seemed to count more on his intuition, seemingly ignoring logic in favor of what he referred to as his gut. While familiar with the human idiom, he remained perplexed why humans would still follow such irrational hunches over empirical evidence. Still, Kirk had proven a more than able commander, and studying him was endlessly fascinating.

Given the
Enterprise
's schedule, it was determined the ship could do without an astrophysicist for a short while, so Sulu was given an almost immediate transfer to the bridge. Spock, in his role of first officer, made certain the lieutenant was aware of bridge rules and operations. He even made Sulu go through simulations to test him on the helm during crisis scenarios. The captain had been correct; the lieutenant was a gifted pilot and passed with the highest marks yet recorded on the starship. Sulu smiled easily, his broad grin exposing white teeth, and he did so often, even during simulated crisis missions. He was clearly relishing the opportunity, and Spock recognized that the new helmsman was more like Kirk than he imagined. Perhaps it was self-recognition that informed the captain's gut that Sulu would excel in his new post.

Still, as part of the command track, Sulu would need experience taking the lead in various circumstances. He had already commanded the bridge for two gamma shifts without incident. Now he needed more seasoning with planetary experience, something astrophysics seldom offered.

The
Enterprise
had encountered a star system with one Class-M planet, previously uncharted. Kirk had ordered the ship inside the system, and they had surveyed six outer planets before settling into orbit around the only one capable of supporting life. Sensors indicated the planet was devoid of any life-form more complex than lower flora and fauna. However, they had also detected ruins of a civilization, so something sentient had lived here once. The captain deemed the planet worthy of further exploration and cataloguing, and he also decided it was an ideal scenario to let Sulu lead his first landing party to the surface for initial fieldwork. Spock couldn't argue with the reasoning and, in fact, supported the decision.