Star Trek: Duty, Honor, Redemption (37 page)

Kruge gestured casually at Warrigul.

“You may have the honor of feeding my pet,” he said.

Struggling to keep the fear from his expression, the underling nodded vigorously. Kruge was so amused that he decided not even to discipline him for failing to answer properly.

The commander strode toward his quarters, where he kept a secure data-viewer. He was exceedingly anxious to watch what Valkris had obtained for him.

Federation science ship
Grissom
sailed out of the darkness and into sunrise, crossing the terminator of the brand-new world. David was excited and pleased by what he had seen so far. For a first try, Genesis was a smashing success. Saavik, as usual in public, showed no emotion. He wished they could go off somewhere and talk so he could find out what she really thought.

“New orbit commencing,” she said. “Coming up on sector three.”

She was upset by their discovering Captain Spock’s coffin down on the surface, David knew it, but she hid the fact well. David decided to try to persuade Captain Esteban to send some people down to bury the tube.

“Short-range scan,” he said.

Saavik studied the sensors. “As before, metallic mass. Verifying triminium photon tube. No new data.”

“Check for trace radiation. Infrared enhancement.” David had observed Captain Esteban’s tendency toward overcautiousness. He would surely want to have proof that the tube was safe before he permitted anyone to approach it.

“Residual radiation only,” Saavik said. “The level is minimal.”

The sensor output changed abruptly. David started violently and hurried to Saavik’s side. Studying the monitor intensely, she adjusted the controls. But the new sound meant more than simple interference. Instead of fading, it sharpened and strengthened.

“I don’t believe it,” David said.

Captain Esteban, who had been hovering around them for the whole two hours of the first orbit, leaned over his shoulder to see the screen.

“What is it?”

“If our equipment is functioning properly,” Saavik said, “the indications are…an animal life form.”

Esteban folded his arms. “You said there wouldn’t be any,” he said to David.

“There
shouldn’t
be any. We only enabled the plant forms in the Genesis matrix.”

Captain Esteban seemed unwilling to accept what David had tried to tell him several times: that Genesis was an
experiment.
Besides being a prototype, the torpedo had detonated in an environment completely different from the one it had been designed to affect. And who knew what Khan Noonien Singh might have done while he possessed the device? However obsessed he was, he had to have been a brilliant man. He could surely have discovered how to turn on the programs the team had disabled for the first use of Genesis.

That must be what happened, David thought, if this reading isn’t just a sensor gremlin. If Khan was going to use Genesis to create a world for his people to live on, he would have wanted the complete ecosphere, animals included. He would have known he couldn’t import any species from Earth—that’s for damned sure!

But David had to wonder why it had taken a full orbit to find the first animal life form.

He pushed away his worries. Animal life was decidedly not a symptom of the things David had most feared might go wrong.

Good grief, now you’re sounding like Esteban,
David said to himself.
You’re demanding a complete analysis to ten decimal places before you have enough information for a first approximation. Go ahead and form a hypothesis if you want, but don’t turn it into a natural law before you’ve collected any data.

Then he thought,
Holy Heisenberg, what if Vance’s dragons really are down there? That would please Mother.

Saavik had been working while David daydreamed and Esteban hovered.

“Cross-referenced and verified,” she said. “An unidentified animate life form.”

Saavik had been trying to analyze her own reaction to the discovery of Spock’s coffin. At the time of Spock’s funeral, sending his body to intersect the Genesis wave, to disintegrate into its sub-elementary particles and be incorporated into the very fabric of the new world, had seemed to Saavik an elegant solution, one Spock would have approved. Disobeying Admiral Kirk’s orders so flagrantly had troubled her slightly, but her loyalty to Spock was of a higher order entirely. In truth, she believed she was the only person who could understand him and appreciate his life.

Now, having disobeyed Admiral Kirk’s instructions, having chosen an orbit of her own design, she must take the responsibility for what had happened. But—what
had
happened? She was dealing with forces that no one yet completely understood. Again and again David had stressed the potential for unexpected events. Perhaps the potential reached as far as inexplicable occurrences…

For something—or
someone
—was down there on that planet.

Saavik glanced at David and saw that he was as perplexed as she, yet both delighted and excited. She wished they could go off in private and discuss what they had found.

Esteban rubbed his jaw.

“Do you wish to advise Starfleet, sir?” the communications officer said.

“Wait a minute,” Esteban said. “We don’t know what we’re talking about here.”

“Why don’t we beam it up?” David said, just to watch Esteban react.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Esteban said sharply. “Regulations specifically state, ‘Nothing shall be beamed aboard until danger of contamination has been eliminated.’ Can you guarantee that?”

David reflected that it was no fun to pull someone’s leg if he never eventually realized his leg was being pulled.

“Not from here, no,” the young scientist said.

“Captain,” Saavik said, “the logical alternative is obvious. Beaming down to the surface is permitted—”

“ ‘If the captain determines that the mission is vital and reasonably free of danger.’ I know the book, Lieutenant Saavik.”

“Captain, please,” David said. He was getting sick and tired of having Starfleet regulations quoted at him in regard to his own project. “We’ll take the risk. We’ve got to find out what’s down there!”

“Or who,” Saavik said, very softly.

David glanced at her, startled.

Esteban nodded thoughtfully to David. “All right,” he said. “Get your gear. I’ll put you down next time around.”

“Thank you,
sir,
” David said.

Starfleet Cadet R. Grenni awoke in the trainees’ dorm. He felt groggy, and his head ached. He had slept too much. He had nothing else to do. Whenever he slept, he had nightmares—but even the nightmares were better than the things he remembered.

He wished he were back on the
Enterprise.
At least there he would have work to do. He had volunteered to stay, but he had been transferred to
Firenze
along with most of his other classmates. Only a few essential cadets had been left on board the
Enterprise.
Obviously, Commander Scott had not considered Grenni essential.

When
Firenze
reached Earth, Starfleet gave all the trainees several weeks’ leave. If they had deliberately planned to torture Grenni, they could not have chosen a better way.

His message light was glowing. He stumbled to the reception panel. Hands trembling, heart beating violently, he accepted the communication. They had caught up to him, they had realized their mistake. This must be his summons to a court-martial—

A small packet fell into the slot. Reluctantly, he opened the door. The envelope bore the seal of Starfleet in gold and blue. He picked it up and fumbled at the flap until it came loose.

“By order of Admiral James T. Kirk,” he read, “you are presented with the gold star of valor, jeweled…”

The gold star was for conspicuous bravery. The jewel signified an engagement in which lives had been lost. Humans received a ruby. It stood for blood. Grenni’s hands started to shake. He blinked rapidly, forcing away tears. He barely made it through the rest of the message. It commanded him and the rest of his class to appear at Starfleet headquarters a few days from now, for the formal presentation of the medal.

The delicate gold star, with ruby, fell out of the envelope and into his hand.

On the bridge of the
Enterprise,
Jim Kirk leaned back in the captain’s seat. Before him, Spacedock grew slowly larger. The ship was nearly home. Kirk felt almost as he had in the old days. He could almost forget the
Enterprise
was running on automatic because it had even less than a skeleton crew. He could almost forget that the ship was patched and scarred and battle-worn. He could almost forget the empty chair behind him.

Almost.

“Stand by, automatic approach system,” he said. “Advise approach control.”

“Approach control, this is
U.S.S. Enterprise,
” Uhura said. “Ready for docking maneuver.”

The controller came back with a crisp, clear voice. “
Enterprise
is cleared to dock.”

“Lock on.”

Sulu transferred control to Spacedock. “Systems locked.”

“Spacedock,” Kirk said, “you have control.”

“Affirmative,
Enterprise.
Enjoy the ride, and welcome home.”

“
Enterprise
confirms. With thanks.”

The ship approached the dock in a huge curve, arcing around its flank and spiraling in to approach threshold number fifteen. The great enclosed docking bay allowed people to work outside the ship, yet it protected them from the free radiation of space. The
Enterprise
sailed closer and closer to Spacedock, heading straight at the closed radiation-shield doors.

Kirk never liked having to give up direct control of his ship.

Finally, at what seemed to him the last second, the massive doors parted silently. The
Enterprise
coasted in and moved slowly and silently into the bay. It passed ships under construction and ships under repair, ships in storage, and decommissioned ships only waiting to be dismantled.

The enormous bay stretched off into darkness, with only a single pool of light in its entire length. The
Enterprise
came abreast of the lights, where NX 2000,
U.S.S. Excelsior,
floated among its acolytes as they readied it for its first voyage. It was a beautiful ship, sleek and new, its burnished hull untouched by radiation or micrometeorites or battle.

“Would you look at that?” Uhura said.

“My friends,” Kirk said, “the great experiment:
Excelsior,
ready for trial runs.”

Kirk glanced at Sulu, approving of his restraint.
Excelsior
was Sulu’s next assignment, his first command. In many respects, Sulu was Kirk’s protégé. The admiral was proud of the young commander. Kirk searched his heart for envy and found none.
Excelsior
belonged to Sulu. Kirk’s ship was the
Enterprise,
and he wanted none other.

“It has transwarp drive,” Sulu said matter-of-factly.

“Aye,” Scott said, “and if my grandmother had wheels, she’d be a wagon.”

“Mister Scott,” Kirk said with mild reproof.

“I’m sorry, sir, but as far as I’m concerned, there’s nothin’ needed for space travel that
this
old girl doesn’t already have.”

“Come come, Scotty,” Kirk said. “Young minds. Fresh ideas.” His voice grew dry. “Be tolerant.”

Sulu smiled to himself, refusing to be baited by the conversation. Behind his calm façade he glowed with pride.
Excelsior
was
his
ship, the ship he had worked so hard and waited so long to command. He knew its lines by heart. He had had considerable say in its design. He was so proud of the ship that even Mister Scott’s criticisms could not get very far under his skin.

He had been around and around about
Excelsior
with Scott. Scott thought
Excelsior
was a kludge, full of extraneous bells and whistles. Sulu was beginning to think that Scott was turning into a sort of high-tech Luddite, wanting to go just so far and no farther, afraid of any more advances.

The engineer would change his mind if he ever got a chance to work inside those engines. Sulu gazed at his ship, and the sight of it gave him nearly enough pleasure to overcome the tragedies of the past few days, nearly enough pleasure to overcome his natural reserve and make him laugh aloud.

After the
Enterprise
passed
Excelsior,
Sulu noticed movement behind the row of small ports along the upper level of Docking Bay 15, the ports that opened out from the cafeteria. Sulu looked more closely.

Everyone sitting up there, drinking coffee, shooting the breeze, relaxing, saw the
Enterprise
’s approach. As the great ship limped its slow, stately way to its berth, all along the line the people rose in silent acclamation.

Jim Kirk, too, grew aware of the homage. He fought with powerful and conflicting emotions. When the controller demanded his attention, he felt glad of the distraction.

“
Enterprise,
stand by for final docking procedure.”