Gemini (34 page)

“Well, Bones,” asked Kirk, after the Vulcan had left, “what's the mystery?”

“No mystery at all,” said McCoy, “not anymore. Not when I knew where to look.”

“You're orbiting a little too far over my head, Doctor,” said Kirk, dryly. “What's this all about?”

McCoy shrugged. “I should have seen it immediately. Not your concern for Peter—he's family, after all. But the way you cut Sinclair out of the action when his whereabouts were unknown, the way you insisted only on experienced hands, this nonsense about wanting to be closer to the younger crew … ”

“Is this going somewhere, McCoy?” asked Kirk, rising. “If not—”

“Jim, that day you approached the new crewmen in the mess hall … I know it was his birthday.”

On his way to the cabin door, Kirk stopped as if he'd taken full stun. The door opened, waited a few seconds, then closed again.

“It's not your fault,” said McCoy. “That you weren't there. And trying to become pals with the younger crew won't make up for it.”

Kirk turned, and it had been a long time since McCoy had seen such hurt in a man's eyes. “He's my son, Bones. I should be there.”

“I know how you feel, Jim,” said McCoy, and it wasn't until much later that Kirk realized his friend wasn't just making sympathetic noise; he had a daughter he hadn't seen in years. “But you and Carol agreed … ”

“Damn our agreement. I should be there. Teaching him to throw a ball, to ride a horse … ” He picked up one of the champagne glasses, made a fist around its stem, then set it down, slowly, his fingers uncoiling. “I should be there. Carol has David … who do I have?”

“You have the
Enterprise,”
said McCoy. “And Spock and me. And Peter.”

“I suppose that's better than nothing,” said Kirk, “but that doesn't make it any easier.”

“Apologizing might make it a little easier,” said McCoy.

“To who?” asked Kirk, baffled.

“To a certain lieutenant who thinks she's being disciplined for no reason,” said McCoy. “You owe her an explanation.”

Kirk spread his hands. “Bones, what'll I tell her?”

McCoy shrugged, but smiled encouragingly as he headed for the door. “I'm sure you'll think of something. Right now, the gesture is more important than the truth.”

On his way out, McCoy caught just the edge of Kirk's voice: “Uhura, put me through to Lieutenant Sinclair … .”

* * *

“Captain, Prince Delor's craft is leaving orbit and sending us best wishes.”

“Visual, Lieutenant,” said Kirk. A moment later, the face of the prince occupied the viewscreen, and it occurred to Kirk that he would have known it was Delor, not Abon, even without having been told. Perhaps the separation—in more ways than one—would be good for them.

“Captain,”
said the prince,
“thank you once again for your assistance in launching this craft. Your Mr. Scott said it would take at least four days, but the work was completed in one.”

“Our pleasure, Your Highness,” replied Kirk. “You're in for the adventure of your life. Just try to have a little fun once in a while.”

“Yes, sir.”
The prince smiled. “Nador's Pride
out.”

“You wanted to see me, sir?” came a voice from behind Kirk, quavering slightly.

“Yes, Lieutenant,” said Kirk, swiveling the conn to face the turbolift, and Sinclair. The muscles of her throat and jaw were working, but she stood as rigid as a tree.

Across the bridge, no one moved. Then they realized they weren't moving, and tried to give the impression of movement, while straining to hear the conversation.

It wasn't necessary for them to strain. “Mr. Chekov is running a diagnostic check on the phaser banks,” said Kirk, indicating the vacant post next to Sulu. “Take the navigation console, Lieutenant.”

She glanced at the helm briefly; then she turned back to Kirk. “Yes, sir,” she said, and took the seat next to Sulu.

Kirk tossed a quick wink to McCoy, over at Spock's station, who returned a grin and a nod.

“Prepare to leave orbit, Mr. Sulu,” said Kirk.

“Aye, sir, course laid in.”

“Captain,” said Spock, approaching him, “let me congratulate you on your fine work in deducing who was behind the smuggling ring. The method in which you built a case against Commissioner Roget, in order to elicit a confession from Mrs. Roget, was particularly effective.”

“Thank you, Mr. Spock. I knew Roget wasn't behind the smuggling ring, of course; he had too many chances to impede our efforts and took none of them. But with no solid proof against his wife, making her come to her husband's defense seemed the most direct way of getting a confession.”

“Flawlessly logical, sir,” said Spock. “I must confess surprise that I did not think of it myself.”

“I relied on you quite heavily during this mission, Spock. I figured it was about time I started pulling my own weight.”

Spock nodded and turned to leave.

“Besides,” Kirk added slyly, “nobody's perfect.”

“Just a minute, Spock,” said McCoy, nearing the conn. “You're saying that Jim figured all that out by logic? He was playing a good, old-fashioned hunch, pure and simple. The way he played on Mrs. Roget's love for her husband—”

“I must disagree, Doctor,” said Spock, with just the merest hint of perfectly controlled annoyance and forbearance. “The captain's reasoning—”

“Just a moment, you two,” said Kirk. “Isn't it possible it was a little of
both?
That it was … a logical hunch?”

For a moment, Spock and McCoy stared at Kirk. Then, with perfect timing, they turned toward each other.

“Now he is being insulting,” said Spock.

“I agree,” said McCoy, “and we don't have to take it.”

The two turned their backs on Kirk and walked away.

Kirk turned to the viewscreen, shaking his head. “Take us out of orbit, Mr. Sulu. Then go to warp factor one.”

“Aye, sir.”

Kirk looked around him, feeling the throb of the ship's power pulse through the arms of the conn. Perhaps it wasn't a home and family, but it was better than nothing. A good deal better, in fact.

The
U.S.S. Enterprise
left orbit and leaped hungrily for the stars.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

An
Original
Publication of POCKET BOOKS

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Copyright © 2003 by Paramount Pictures. All Rights Reserved.

STAR TREK
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ISBN: 0-7434-0074-7

First Pocket Books printing February 2003

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ISBN-13: 978-0-7434-6310-2 (ebook)