Crisis of Consciousness (4 page)

“Phasers. Fire.”

Blue bars of energy connected
Enterprise
’s phaser banks to the underside of the other vessel. The explosions from the torpedoes had disrupted their shields enough that the phaser beams broke through, and a small explosion erupted from the Kenisian ship’s belly.

Spock lifted his head from his scanner cowl. “I am no longer reading the dampening field emanating from their vessel.”

“I hope they can’t repair them,” Chekov said.

Kirk nodded his agreement as he rose and pushed himself toward the upper bridge. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Mister Spock, but a dampening field of that strength would take a great deal of energy, would it not?”

“It would,” the Vulcan agreed.

“Powerful ship.” Kirk took a lingering glance at the Kenisian vessel on the main viewer as it turned slowly away, as if the
Enterprise
were going to bear down on it. “But why send only one?”

“We have no fleet,” Pippenge offered, still standing above Kirk’s chair, one hand clasped tightly on the rail. “Perhaps they have surveilled us.”

Kirk wagged a finger at the viewscreen. “But did they expect to find
us
here?”

“They did not seem unprepared for the contingency,” Spock said.

“Captain, they’re hailing us,” Uhura said.

The captain stepped back down to the center seat.

“We’ve bloodied their noses.” Kirk tried to offer Pippenge some sort of comfort. “They may not be used to that.” He motioned for Uhura to put them through.

“Only audio,” Uhura said.

“Clearly we have underestimated you, Captain
.
”

Kirk paused, choosing his next words carefully. They were lucky, this time, but it could have gone much worse. “We’ve both survived that initial mistake. Would you care to discuss the matter? Without the looming threat of violence?”

There was a bit of a wait for a reply, and Kirk assumed that the Kenisian captain was also choosing her words carefully.
“Yes, we would. We are humbled by your grace in this matter
.
”

“The United Federation of Planets prefers conversation to conflict. And the Maabas are now a protectorate of the Federation.” It was one thing to put out one’s hand in a gesture of peace, but Kirk thought it important to make a point that the Federation wasn’t backing off the agreement with the Maabas. Not just for the Kenisian’s sake, but for Pippenge’s.

“We understand
.
”

“We would host you, and a small delegation, here on the
Enterprise
, if you like.”

Another pause, as she considered Kirk’s proposal. If she refused, he wasn’t sure what her next move would be.

“We accept your gracious offer
.
”

Pippenge released a puff of breath.

“Are you familiar with matter-energy teleportation technology?” Kirk asked.

“Yes. We employ such a system for materials—not usually for living
beings.”

“We can transport you to our vessel.” Sensing Pippenge’s discomfort, Kirk met the ambassador’s eyes and tried to give him as well as the Kenisian captain assurance. “No harm will come to you.”

“ENERGIZE.”

Chief Kyle slowly pulled down the sliders as the Kenisian captain materialized.

As the transporter effect’s sparkle and hum faded, she made a long gasp, but she quickly recovered.

Kyle stifled a gulp as they all noticed her upswept eyebrows and gracefully pointed ears.

“Vulcanoid,” the captain said quietly, and his science officer agreed with a tacit brow raise.

Her hair was auburn and arranged high on her head with well-maintained curls that sprang down on one side. Atop bright white slacks she wore a loose navy tunic which glittered at her neck and at the end of long sleeve cuffs. It could, Kirk realized, be either adornment or rank insignia. “That,” the Kenisian said breathlessly, regaining her composure, “was an interesting experience, Captain.”

Kirk instinctively stepped forward to help her as she nearly stumbled off the platform. “I’ve always enjoyed it.” He took her elbow and guided her down the steps.

“I did not.” She waved him off as she found her footing. “We don’t use such a method for living beings. I was merely surprised by the sensation.” Her eyes, large and dark, met his own for a long moment, then looked to where he still held her arm.

The captain pulled his hand back instantly. He looked from her to his first officer, and she followed his gaze.

When she saw Spock, her eyes widened but she quickly recovered from any shock and bowed her head slightly to all of them. “We are Zhatan, Kenisian Fleet Commander and Ambassador.” She raised her left hand, showing an open palm facing up. Many cultures offered a greeting of good faith to show they had no weapon.

“I’m Captain James Kirk.” He gestured toward the two men behind him. “My first officer, Commander Spock, my chief medical officer, Doctor McCoy.”

Spock raised his hand in salute. “Peace and long life.”

She scrutinized him with intensity when he spoke, as if studying him in all ways possible. “You are of Vul-kuhn.” The way she said it wasn’t just odd to the ear, but had a bittersweet note to it.

“Vulcan,” he corrected, lowering his hand.

Zhatan bowed her head, accepting that, but explaining herself. “In our mythology, Vul-kuhn.”

“Mythology?” Kirk asked, and he motioned between Zhatan and Spock with his hand. “I take it there’s some linked history here.”

“Prehistory, perhaps,” Spock said. “I am unaware of any Vulcan expedition or colony in this area. Nor have I heard of the Kenisians.”

“We have been a spacefaring people for several millennia, Captain. While our origins are lost to time, there are many who have heard of Vul-kuhn—excuse me, Vulcan, and believe we are of their line.”

Kirk wondered if that was possible—a people who could create an interstellar craft might lose their own history, and he knew that time could bury facts that grow into myths.

“We look forward to learning more about your people and culture and offering you the chance to know ours.” The captain motioned toward the doorway, and the security guards who stood on either side. “If you’ll follow these gentlemen, Madame Ambassador, they’ll escort you to our briefing room. I’ll meet you there shortly.”

“Captain.” Zhatan smiled a bit—and it was rather alluring. Was she flirting with him? As she stepped toward the door, however, she stopped and turned to Spock, smiling at him as well. “Will Commander Spock be joining us?” She didn’t look at Kirk when she asked.

The Vulcan waited for his captain to nod his approval, and only then did he reply. “I will.”

She looked at Spock a moment more, smirking again ever so slightly, then left with the security detail trailing behind her.

The Vulcan offered no expression. Was he being cooler than usual? Did he feel the allure of Zhatan that Kirk had?

By the look on McCoy’s face, he had clearly sensed it as well.

After a short but awkward silence, it was the doctor who finally spoke. “You know, I may have to say this is fascinating.”

Spock pursed his lips a moment, then disagreed. “Not as such, Doctor. There are accounts of more than one group of Vulcan explorers and adventurers who set out for the stars.” He shook his head after seeming to search his memory. “I’ve just no recollection of this one, but their journey may never have been recorded.”

“Adventurers?” Kirk was curious.

“Vulcan had its era of exploration and colonization before the time of Surak.”

McCoy sighed, as if having a discussion with the science officer was exhausting him. “We know that, Spock. But how many colonies were begun and then lost?”

“Colonies would not be an apt description of such ventures.”

“The Preservers?” Kirk asked.

Spock considered that a moment. “Possibly. The time before Surak was one of great dissension and conflict, and a race such as the Preservers may have removed a tribe of early Vulcans in an attempt to ensure the species persisted.”

“Or,” the captain said, “the Kenisians may share a history with the Romulans. A lost colony of theirs?”

The Vulcan nodded. “Also a possibility, though not necessarily the case. At different times, many factions, political groups, even entire city-states sought refuge in the stars.”

“I thought Vulcans were good historians,” McCoy said as Kirk headed into the corridor and they followed.

“Now, but not in the pre-awakening,” Spock stated. “Wars, large and small, ultimately obscure history. And generally, antiquity is writ by the victors.”

“THE KENISIAN PEOPLE
do not want war with the Ma’abas.”

In the briefing room, Ambassador Pippenge was seated, plainly nervous, halfway down one side of the table and directly opposite Zhatan. As the Kenisian ambassador had come alone, the captain decided to have only Pippenge join them. Kirk sat at the end of the table, next to Spock who was in front of the computer console. McCoy was next to Zhatan, and Uhura had joined them and was seated next to Pippenge. Scott glowered from the very end of the table, still smarting over what the Kenisians had done to the
Enterprise
.

Highlighting the tension, two security guards waited patiently just inside the doors.

“We are called the Maabas,” Pippenge corrected, his voice much softer than it had been that morning.

“Mabas,” Zhatan said, not quite right. “However one pronounces it, our point is we, especially, dislike armed conflict.”

“No more than we.” Pippenge spoke so quietly Kirk could barely hear him.

Zhatan clearly had—and she smiled. “Good. As ambassador, we are prepared to accept the peaceful surrender of your people.”

Strange phrasing
, Kirk thought. Was she royalty? Referring to oneself as “we” suggested that possibility.
Could Zhatan be warlord, ambassador, and queen, all rolled into one?

McCoy scowled at the arrogance. “Very magnanimous of you.”

Missing the sarcasm, Zhatan merely nodded her acceptance of the “compliment.”

“You want us to surrender the entire planet to you?” Pippenge was incredulous. “There are billions of people—”

Zhatan cut him off. “We counted approximately four billion, three hundred twenty-nine million, five hundred seventy-seven thousand, four hundred thirty-two.”

“A-a-approximately,” Pippenge stuttered.

“We’re not factoring in birth and death rates, though it is safe to say the number has at least increased since we scanned the planet.”

“Must come with the ears,” McCoy muttered, and Kirk cast him a harsh glare.

Zhatan turned toward the doctor. “We beg your pardon?”

“You say ‘we.’ ” Kirk drew her attention from McCoy, and Zhatan swiveled toward the captain. “May I ask why?”

“Us?” she said, seeming to think Kirk didn’t understand the word.

Kirk and Spock shared a quick glance.

“Could you define ‘us,’ ” Kirk pressed.

“Us,” she said matter-of-factly. “Meaning ‘we.’ ”

“We,” he repeated. “More than you, an individual.”

Suddenly Zhatan nodded, a smile curling her lips. “Yes, we see your confusion now.” She motioned to Spock. “Those of Vulcan may be able to explain better than we.”

The captain felt his face tighten. He was becoming annoyed. “Spock?”

“I’m afraid I’m at a loss, Captain.” He looked to Zhatan. “Please specify.”

“There is a word you may know:
Shautish-keem
.”

In Spock’s eyes, Kirk saw a flicker of understanding. “A very old myth.”

Zhatan smiled more deeply—almost a grin—which on someone who was of Vulcan descent always looked a bit off. “We are no myth.”

“You only?” Spock asked. “Or perhaps your caste?”

“All Kenisians.”

Whatever it was Spock now understood, he was clearly intrigued. Kirk saw the Vulcan straighten a bit, more focused than usual, even for him. “Care to explain, Mister Spock?”

“
Shautish-keem
is a method . . .” He paused and corrected himself. “The myth of a method—”

Zhatan frowned at that amendment, but Spock continued.

“—from Vulcan prehistory—of preserving the consciousness of one’s ancestors within the mind of their progeny.”

Silence weighed down on them for what seemed like a long while, until McCoy finally spoke. “Well, Spock may understand, but I’m not sure I do.”

Kirk was glad he didn’t have to ask.

“As an example,” the science officer offered, “the wisdom of a matriarch, before her passing, may be passed on to a selected relative so that her memories would not be lost.”

“Her consciousness,” Zhatan corrected, sounding a bit annoyed. “Not just her memories.”

“Some kind of permanent mind-meld?” Kirk asked.

“In theory, a far more complicated process. Not practiced, if it ever truly was, since antiquity.”

“We,” Zhatan said proudly, “have always been this way.” She looked to McCoy, whose mouth was a bit agape. “Do you grasp our nature now, Doctor?”

McCoy took a moment to contemplate his reply. “I think so. Family dinner with your crazy aunt, every moment of every day.”

“Bones,” Kirk chided, then turned back to Zhatan. “We’re not just talking to you, but to one of your ancestors?”

“More than one,” she said.

Spock’s brows shot up. “Not merely a duality, but a true multividual?”

Uhura gasped, as clearly she understood the implications.

“The Vulcan word is
sha’esues
,” Spock said. “A collective of distinct consciousnesses held within one mind.” He looked squarely, even disbelievingly, at Zhatan. “A very unlikely condition.”

“Our sense is that you deem it unlikely so as not to call it ‘impossible’ and be proven wrong.”

Nodding, Spock accepted that appraisal.

“We assure you,” Zhatan continued, “this has been the way of my people for our entire history.”

Silence settled on that thought. Kirk wondered just how many personalities were within Zhatan. How did they communicate to her? Was she a primary personality, with control over the others, relegating them to mere voices, or did they “possess” her, for lack of a better term? In either case, how large was his audience?