by Peter David
“Computer. Message.”
The screen came on and Calhoun’s face appeared on it. “Chief,” he said, “we’ve received permission from the Zondarians to explore the caves and machinery on their world, in Ontear’s Sacred Realm or whatever it’s called. There seems to be tremendous potential there for discovery. And hopefully it will provide some answers to some outstanding questions we have. When you get in, coordinate with Lieutenant Soleta.”
Burgoyne nodded, as if Calhoun could see hir.
“And Burgoyne, thanks again for saving my ass. I owe you one, Burgy,” added Calhoun.
The screen blinked out.
Burgoyne sighed. It was clear that s/he wasn’t going to get a break. There was still that bizarre energy situation in the engine room that s/he had to explore. And now there was this mysterious alien machinery, which did hold some fascination, but still … Burgoyne felt tired. Wrung out.
“A quick rest,” s/he said to hirself. “Five minutes won’t kill anyone.”
S/he rose and entered hir bedroom.
Selar was waiting for hir.
Burgoyne blinked in surprise to see the doctor standing there. She looked fairly recovered, although there were still bruises on her. Reconstructive surgery had repaired the damage to her ear. Her gaze was steady, her manner calm and collected.
No. No, it wasn’t. Her body started trembling the moment that Burgoyne walked in.
“Doctor? What are you doing here? Are you all right?”
Selar tried to speak, but couldn’t get words out. Instead she took two steps forward, grabbed Burgoyne, and kissed hir forcefully, swept up in Pon Farr, caught up in her need, and knowing, finally, for once, exactly what she wanted.
No words were required.
And Burgoyne never did get that five minutes’ rest.
STAR TREK®
VULCAN’S FORGE by Josepha Sherman and Susan Shwartz
Please turn the page for an excerpt from Vulcan’s Forge …
Vulcan, Mount Seleya Day 6, Seventh Week of Tasmeen, Year 2247
Dawn hovered over Mount Seleya. A huge shavokh glided down on a thermal from the peak, balanced on a wingtip, then soared out toward the desert. Spock heard its hunting call.
Where it stoops, one may find ground water or a soak not too deeply buried, Spock recalled from his survival training. He had no need of such information now. Nevertheless, his gaze followed the creature’s effortless flight.
The stairs that swept upward to the narrow bridge still lay in shadow. Faint mist rose about the mountain, perhaps from the snow that capped it, alone of Vulcan’s peaks, or perhaps from the lava that bubbled sullenly a thousand meters below. Soon, 40 Eridani A would rise, and the ritual honoring Spock and his agemates would begin.
It was illogical, Spock told himself, for him to assume that all eyes were upon him as he followed his parents. Instead, he concentrated on his parents’ progress. Sustained only by the light touch of Sarek’s fingers upon hers, veiled against the coming sunrise, Amanda crossed the narrow span as if she had not conquered her fear of the unrailed bridge only after long meditation.
Few of the many participants from the outworld scientific, diplomatic, and military enclaves on Vulcan could equal her grace. Some had actually arranged to be flown to the amphitheater just to allow them to bypass the bridge that had served as a final defense for the warband that had ruled here in ancient days. Others of the guests crossed unsteadily or too quickly for dignity.
Vertigo might be a reasonable assumption, Spock thought, for beings acclimating themselves to Vulcan’s thin air or the altitude of the bridge.
“The air is the air,” one of his agemates remarked in the tone of one quoting his elders. “I have heard these humans take drugs to help them breathe.”
All of the boys eyed the representatives from the Federation as if they were xenobiological specimens in a laboratory. Especially, they surveyed the officials’ sons and daughters, who might, one day, be people with whom they would study and work.
“They look sickly,” the same boy spoke. His name, Spock recalled, was Stonn. Not only was he a distant kinsman to Sered, he was one of the youths who also eyed Spock as if he expected Spock’s human blood to make him fall wheezing to his knees, preferably just when he was supposed to lead his agemates up to the platform where T’Lar and T’Pau would present them with the hereditary—and now symbolic—weapons of their Great Houses. By slipping out early into the desert to undergo his kahs-wan ordeal before the others, Spock had made himself forever Eldest among the boys of his year. It was not logical that some, like Stonn, would not forgive him for his presumption, or his survival; but it was so.
A deferential three paces behind his parents and two to the side of Sarek, Spock strode past a series of deeply incised pits—the result of laser cannon fire two millennia back—and up to the entrance of the amphitheater. Two masked guards bearing ceremonial lirpas presented arms before his father, then saluted Spock for the first time as an adult. For all his attempts at total control, he felt a little shiver race through him as he returned the salutes as an adult for the first time. The clublike weights that formed the lirpa bases shone, a luster of dark metal. The dawn light flashed red on the blades that the guards carried over their shoulders. At the guards’ hips, they wore stone-hilted daggers, but no energy weapons—phasers—such as a Starfleet officer might wear on duty. Of course, no such weapons might be brought here.
Lady Amanda removed her fingers from her husband’s and smiled faintly. “I shall join the other ladies of our House now, my husband, while you bring our son before the Elders. Spock, I shall be watching for you. And I am indeed very proud.”
As, her gaze told him, is your father.
She glided away, a grace note among the taller Vulcans.
Spock fell into step with his father, head high, as if his blood bore no human admixture. As it was in the beginning … Silently, he reviewed the beginning of the Chant of Generations as he glided down the stairs.
Everyone in the amphitheater rose. T’Lar, adept and First Student, walked onto the platform. Then, two guards, their lirpa set aside for the purpose, entered with a curtained carrying chair. From it, robed in black, but with all the crimsons of the dawn in her brocaded overrobe, stepped T’Pau. She leaned on an intricately carved stick.
Spock’s father stepped forward as if to help her.
“Thee is kind, Sarek,” said the Elder of their House, “but thee is premature. When I can no longer preside unassisted over this rite, it will be time to release my katra.”
Sarek bowed. “I ask pardon for my presumption.”
“Courtesy”—T’Pau held up a thin, imperious hand—“is never presumptuous.” Her long eyes moved over the people in the amphitheater as if delivering some lesson of her own—but to whom? Carefully, she approached the altar and bowed to T’Lar. “Eldest of All, I beg leave to assist thee.”
“You honor me,” replied T’Lar.
“I live to serve,” said T’Pau, an observation that would have left Spock gasping had he not been getting sufficient oxygen.
Both women bowed, this time to the youths who stood waiting their presentation.
Again, the adept struck the gong.
T’Lar raised both arms, the white and silver of her sleeves falling like great wings. “As it was in the beginning, so shall it always be. These sons of our House have shown their worthiness …”
“I protest!” came a shout from the amphitheater.
“I protest,” Sered declared, “the profanation of these rites. I protest the way they have been stripped of their meaning, contaminated as one might pollute a well in the desert. I protest the way our deepest mysteries have been revealed to outsiders.”
T’Pau’s eyebrows rose at that last word, which was in the seldom-used invective mode.
“Has thee finished?” asked T’Lar. Adept of Kolinahr, she would remain serene if Mount Seleya split along its many fissures and this entire amphitheater crumbled into the
pit below.
“No!” Sered cried, his voice sharp as the cry of a shavokh. “Above all, I protest the inclusion of an outsider in our rites—yes, as leader of the men to be honored today—when other and worthier men, our exiled cousins, go unhonored and unrecognized.”
Sarek drew deep, measured breaths. He prepares for combat, Spock realized, and was astonished to feel his own body tensing, alert, aware as he had only been during his kahs-wan, when he had faced a full-grown le-matya in the deep desert and knew, logically, he could not survive such an encounter. Fight or flight, his mother had once called it. That too was a constant across species. But not here. There must not be combat here.
“Thee speaks of those who exiled themselves, Sered.” Not the slightest trace of emotion tinged T’Pau’s voice. “Return lies in their power, not in ours.”
“So it does!” Sered shouted. “And so they do!”
He tore off his austere robe. Gasps of astonishment and hisses of outrage sounded as he stood forth in the garb of a Captain of the Hosts from the ancient days. Sunlight picked out the metal of his harness in violent red and exploded into rainbow fire where it touched the gem forming the grip of the ancient energy weapon Sered held—a weapon he had brought, against all law, into Mount Seleya’s amphitheater.
“Welcome our lost kindred!” he commanded, and gestured as if leading a charge.
A rainbow shimmer rose about the stage. Transporter effect, Spock thought even as it died, leaving behind six tall figures in black and silver. At first glance they were as much like Sered as brothers in their mother’s womb. But where Sered wore his rage like a cloak of ceremony, these seemed accustomed to emotion and casual violence.
For an instant no one moved, the Vulcans too stunned by this garish breach of custom, the Federation guests not sure what they were permitted to do. Then, as the intruders raised their weapons, the amphitheater erupted into shouts and motion. From all sides, the guards advanced, holding their lirpas at a deadly angle. But lirpas were futile against laser rifles.
As the ceremonial guard was cut down, Sarek whispered quick, urgent words to other Vulcans. They nodded. Spock sensed power summoned and joined:
“Now!” whispered the ambassador.
In a phalanx, the Vulcans rushed the dais. They swept across it, bearing T’Pau and T’Lar with them. They, at least, were safe. Only one remained behind. Green blood puddled from his ruined skull, seeping into the dark stone where no blood had flowed for countless generations.
“You dare rise up against me?” Sered shrilled. “One sacrifice is not enough to show the lesser worlds!” He waved his weapon at the boys, at the gorgeously dressed Federation guests. “Take them! We shall make these folk of lesser spirit crawl.”
Spock darted forward, not sure what he could do, knowing only that it was not logical to wait meekly for death. And these intruders were not mindless le-matyas! They were kindred, of Vulcan stock; surely they could be reasoned with—
As Sered could not. Spock faltered at the sight of the drawn features, the too-bright eyes staring beyond this chaos to a vision only Sered could see. Few Vulcans ever went insane, but here was true madness. Surely his followers, though, clearly Vulcan’s long-lost cousins, would not ally themselves with such insanity!
Desperately calm, Spock raised his hand in formal greeting. Surak had been slain trying to bring peace: if Spock fell thus, at least his father would have final proof that he was worthy to be the ambassador’s son.
They suddenly seemed to be in a tense little circle of calm. One of the “cousins” pointed at him, while a second nodded, then gestured out into the chaos around them. The language had greatly changed in the sundered years, but Spock understood:
“This one.”
“Him.”
It may work. They may listen to me. They—
“Get back, son!” a Starfleet officer shouted, racing forward, phaser in outstretched hand, straight at Sered. “Drop that weapon!”
Sered threw back his head. He actually laughed. Then, firing at point-blank range, reflexes swifter than human, he shot the man. The human flared up into flame so fierce that the heat scorched Spock’s face and the veils slipped across his eyes, blurring his sight. He blinked, blinked again to clear it, and saw the conflagration that had been a man flash out of existence.
Dead. He’s dead. A moment ago alive, and now—Spock stared at Sered across the small space that had held a man, his mind refusing to process what he’d just seen. “Half-blood,” muttered Sered. “Weakling shoot of Surak’s house. But you will serve—”
“Got him!” came a shout. David Rabin hurled himself into Sered, bringing them both down. The weapon flew from Sered’s hand, and Captain Rabin and Sered both scrambled for it. The woman touched it, Sered knocked her hand aside—
And the weapon slid right to Spock. He snatched it up, heart racing faster than a proper Vulcan should permit, and pointed it at Sered.
“Can you kill a brother Vulcan?” Sered hissed, unafraid, from where he lay. “Can you?”
Could he? For an endless moment, Spock froze, seeing Sered’s fearless stare, feeling the weapon in his hand. Dimly he was aware of the struggle all around him as the invaders grabbed hostages, but all he could think was that all he need do was one tiny move, only the smallest tightening of a finger—
Can you kill a brother Vulcan?
He’d hesitated too long. What felt like half of Mount Seleya fell on him. Spock thought he heard his father saying, Exaggeration. Remember your control.
Then the fierce dawn went black.
Look for STAR TREK Fiction from Pocket Books
Star Trek®: The Original Series
Star Trek: The Motion Picture • Gene Roddenberry
Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan • Vonda N. Mclntyre
Star Trek III: The Search for Spock • Vonda N. Mclntyre
Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home • Vonda N. Mclntyre
Star Trek V: The Final Frontier • J. M. Dillard
Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country • J. M. Dillard
Star Trek VII: Generations • J. M. Dillard
Enterprise: The First Adventure • Vonda N. Mclntyre
Final Frontier • Diane Carey
Strangers from the Sky • Margaret Wander Bonanno
Spock’s World • Diane Duane
The Lost Years • J. M. Dillard
Probe • Margaret Wander Bonanno
Prime Directive • Judith and Garfield Reeves-Stevens
Best Destiny • Diane Carey
Shadows on the Sun • Michael Jan Friedman
Sarek • A. C. Crispin
Federation • Judith and Garfield Reeves-Stevens
The Ashes of Eden • William Shatner & Judith and Garfield Reeves-Stevens
The Return • William Shatner & Judith and Garfield Reeves-Stevens
Star Trek: Starfleet Academy • Diane Carey
#1 Star Trek: The Motion Picture • Gene Roddenberry
#2 The Entropy Effect • Vonda N. Mclntyre
#3 The Klingon Gambit • Robert E. Vardeman
#4 The Covenant of the Crown • Howard Weinstein
#5 The Prometheus Design • Sondra Marshak & Myrna Culbreath
#6 The Abode of Life •Lee Correy
#7 Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan • Vonda N. Mclntyre
#8 Black Fire • Sonni Cooper
#9 Triangle • Sondra Marshak & Myrna Culbreath
#10 Web of the Romulans • M. S. Murdock
#11 Yesterday’s Son • A. C. Crispin
#12 Mutiny on the Enterprise • Robert E. Vardeman
#13 The Wounded Sky • Diane Duane
#14 The Trellisane Confrontation • David Dvorkin
#15 Corona • Greg Bear
#16 The Final Reflection • John M. Ford
#17 Star Trek III: The Search for Spock • Vonda N. Mclntyre
#18 My Enemy, My Ally • Diane Duane
#19 The Tears of the Singers • Melinda Snodgrass
#21 Uhura’s Song • Janet Kagan
#22 Shadow Lord • Laurence Yep
#23 Ishmael • Barbara Hambly
#24 Killing Time • Delia Van Hise
#25 Dwellers in the Crucible • Margaret Wander Bonanno
#26 Pawns and Symbols • Majiliss Larson
#27 Mindshadow • J. M. Dillard
#28 Crisis on Centaurus • Brad Ferguson
#29 Dreadnought! • Diane Carey
#30 Demons • J. M. Dillard
#31 Battlestations! • Diane Carey
#32 Chain of Attack • Gene DeWeese
#33 Deep Domain • Howard Weinstein
#34 Dreams of the Raven • Carmen Carter
#35 The Romulan Way • Diane Duane & Peter Morwood
#36 How Much for Just the Planet? • John M. Ford
#37 Bloodthirst • J. M. Dillard
#38 The IDIC Epidemic • Jean Lorrah
#39 Time for Yesterday • A. C. Crispin
#40 Timetrap • David Dvorkin
#41 The Three-Minute Universe • Barbara Paul
#42 Memory Prime • Judith and Garfield Reeves-Stevens
#43 The Final Nexus • Gene DeWeese
#44 Vulcan’s Glory • D. C. Fontana
#45 Double, Double • Michael Jan Friedman
#46 The Cry of the Onlies • Judy Klass
#47 The Kobayashi Maru • Julia Ecklar
#48 Rules of Engagement • Peter Morwood
#49 The Pandora Principle • Carolyn Clowes
#50 Doctor’s Orders • Diane Duane
#51 Enemy Unseen • V. E. Mitchell
#52 Home Is the Hunter • Dana Kramer Rolls
#53 Ghost-Walker • Barbara Hambly
#54 A Flag Full of Stars • Brad Ferguson
#55 Renegade • Gene DeWeese
#56 Legacy • Michael Jan Friedman
#57 The Rift • Peter David
#58 Face of Fire • Michael Jan Friedman
#59 The Disinherited • Peter David
#60 Ice Trap • L. A. Graf
