by Diane Carey
the aft cabin, I happened to glance at the old-style
ship's clock that lay half-buried in navigational charts
on the captain's desk. The clock I could read. The
charts--well, I could read the clock.
The aft ladder was easier to climb with a tray of
coffee mugs than the forecabin ladder, so that's the
way I went. I came up on deck just in front of the
ship's wooden wheel. Behind it, the captain was grin-
ning at himself and steering Keeler through waves that
seemed to grow calmer at his behest. What had been
eight-footers had smoothed to a light chop as we
stopped fighting them and continued sailing into the
middle of the Caribbean,
I relayed coffee to Mr. Scott and Dr. McCoy as they
relaxed amidships, then returned with one for the
captain. He took it with a silent nod, settled back in
the helm chair, and eyed me with those hazel-browns.
"Something on your mind, Commander?"
9
"That sounds like something Spock would say."
"Oh, no, Jim. Spock would comment on the waste.
You know, exertion and risk with no true gain. Can't
you just hear him say it, with a 'most illogical' pinned
on the end of it?"
Bidden as though by drug, I indeed heard Com-
mander Spock's rough baritone cadence knitting those
words into his own kind of commentary on races and
contests.
"Now, Captain, there's a proposal I'd like to see
worked on," Mr. Scott said, as he cocked one leg on
the cooler and gripped the loops of rope that held the
mains'l to the big boom. "Mr. Spock on board this
kind of starship. I wonder ha' he'd look in a slicker."
"Earth's a water planet, Scotty," Kirk said, be-
mused. "One of very few. Sailing ships grew with our
culture. Besides... wouldn't you hate to see Spock
even greener than usual?"
The three men laughed, enjoying their moment of
teasing bigotry at the expense of their absent friend,
forgetting that although I was human, Earth was not
my home either. I had no reason to feel envious, yet I
couldn't laugh along with them.
"Where are we headed, sir?" I asked.
"We're supposed to rendezvous with the other flo-
tilla participants at New Providence."
I waited for him to finish the sentence. Perhaps it
was his tone, perhaps the flicker in his eye, or the fact
that I'd learned to expect more from him than what-
ever was obvious. After a moment, I assisted.
"But..."
McCoy's rooster-tail brows arched up. "Tell her,
Jim. What are you saving it for? She's been looking at
you like a suspicious cat for a week now, even if she
doesn't know it."
I flushed again, but McCoy's hilarious glare made
me duck my head and smile in embarrassment. One
thing was for sure we weren't going to New Provi-
dence.
That half-grin stretched one side of Kirk's mouth.
He gazed at me from the corners of his eyes. "We're
sailing toward your future, Piper."
"A banana republic," Kirk explained, putting one
foot up on the rail, still fingering the ship's wheel
lightly. "A quaint local epithet used to describe island
settlements in semitropical areas here on Earth. The
Virgin Islands .... Greater and Lesser Antilles ....
Jamaica, the Caymans, the West Indies in general."
"Because of the banana trees?"
"Banana trees, banana vendors, a generally banana
life-style is what you'll find there."
He gazed at the sea between McCoy and Scott. "I
guess we taught Ben Shamirian a good lesson today,"
he said, enjoying the sight of Gavelan plowing along
several ship-lengths behind Keeler.
"That you did, sir," Scott said. "And bonnily too.
'Course, Doc and I'll ne'r be the same for wear..."
"What, Scotty? Thinning out already, at your age?
I'm dismayed."
"And I'm ocean-sick," McCoy drawled.
Meanwhile, I was itching to find out what he meant
about sailing toward my future.
When I spoke, my voice seemed not to fit in among
theirs. "Are you tampering with my future, sir?"
He nodded, dawdling through a sip of coffee. "Your
first command."
He was teasing me again. Bad enough when I did
know what he was talking about, much less when 1
didn't. I sat down on the rail and leaned back against
the lifeline. "A lobster scow, right?"
Kirk shook his head, saying, "A space vessel."
Through my astonished stare he continued, "With
atmospheric and stellar capabilities."
12 13
The stare started to hurt. My eyes watered in the
wind. Mr. Scott was chuckling.
"Are you . . ." I stammered. "Are you kidding
me?"
" Commander, it's a Star Fleet-commissioned space-
going passenger vessel, and it's waiting at Man-o-War
Cay for you to take command." When Kirk saw my
expression--'ff by any reach of terminology I still
appeared human at all--he buried a flicker of amuse-
ment in a blink.
McCoy leaned forward on the rail, supported by
both hands on either side of his legs. Those demonstra-
tive eyes widened at me. "How hard did you think it
would be to wangle a light command for the youngest
person to receive the Federation Medal of Valor?"
"But... but... but... but why?"
My question started in McCoy's direction, shifted to
Scott, and ultimately landed on Captain Kirk. After a
moment, he said, "Oh, I've got a little mission for you.
Call it a... mail run."
"Space... a space... a mission out in space?"
"That's right."
I took a deep breath, and shook the seaweed out of
my head.
"Think you're up to it?" he asked.
"No!"
Captain Kirk chuckled openly. "That alone tells me
you are," he said. "We'll be there by tomorrow after-
noon. Start getting used to the idea, Commander. As
of tomorrow, you've got a ship of your own."
14
Chapter Two
"Anything you might say has already been taken down in
evidence against you."
--The Squire of Gothos
MY OWN COMMAND.
Gladiator. Excalibur. Odyssey. Mountaineer. Trou-
badour.
Since she would be acquired during my stay here on
Earth, shouldn't my ship have a Terran name? This
planet might be just a little squeak that started a big
rumble, but Earth's history had plenty to offer. More
so in plain gallantry and intrepidness than in many
more, dare I say, civilized cultures. I was just begin-
ning to appreciate that. Earth, planet of my ancestry,
had been the subject of my fascination, my study, even
my curiosity, but never my respect.
As Star Fleet hung in political suspension a few
thousand kilometers behind us, subject to tense
purges, and courts-martial, I contemplated the name
of my ship. Had I earned this? I
had fallen into a bad
situation and forded it. That was Star Fleet's hope
when they created the Academy to mine the crude ore
of future command, wasn't it? The cost had been long
and wide--the lives of a Star Fleet destroyer's entire
crew; no, not my fault, but inevitable because I
refused to give in. I felt victorious about the failure of
Vice Admiral Rittenhouse's clandestine attempt to
trigger the collapse of Star Fleet and set up his own
intersystem'republic, but I still didn't feel good about
15
it. Victorious... good... too different for peace of
mind. And now Star Fleet trembled in the wake.
I stood in Keeler's galley, heating coffee on what
seemed an archaic gas stove. Though I'd grown used
to it, I still marveled at Kirk's purity of cause. Dr.
McCoy had told me that when Kirk had purchased this
ship, she'd been half-restored and in bankruptcy. He'd
completed the restoration, rope for rope, halyard for
halyard, binnacle for binnacle, keeping true to the old
style. Hence, gas stove.
Maybe a feminine name, so everyone would know
the captain was female. Edna St. Vincent Millay. Too
long. Summer Rain. Myth. Siren. Or a famous name
Zuriak. Boone. Philip of Macedon. James T. . . .
He didn't seem worried about the tumult at Star
Fleet Command. After all, here he was, one of only a
handful of starship commanders, cruising his home
planet in the slowest possible fashion. Shouldn't he be
back there... helping? Weren't there decisions to be
made? I'd bet that somebody, somewhere, was turning
to his second and grumbling, "Damn, I wish Jim Kirk
was here."
Thunderbird. Chimera. Cumulus. Egyptian.
The coffee wasn't even hot enough to send up an
aroma when an unexpected whine shook me from my
plans. The whine turned to a hum, then caused a faint
but recognizable oscillation of air particles around my
face and arms, where the skin was bare. My ivory
cotton flight suit shielded the rest of my skin from the
particle jump, but the cause remained perfectly identi-
fiable, even if it was totally out of place. I must be
delirious, imagining things. A transporter beam?
The hum grew deeper. I dashed to the forecabin
ladder and climbed up enough to get my elbows onto
the deck, and froze in place, astonished. Three forms
were indeed materializing onto the aft deck. The syn-
16
thesis of old and new hit me like the smell of bad
weather. Invasion.
"How rude!" I exclaimed. My breath was stolen by
the wind flushing into the fores'l. Beaming down!
What raw nerve!
Still hardly more than bands of shimmering light, the
forms were steps away from where I'd left Captain
Kirk and the others on the aft deck when I escaped to
collect my thoughts. Kirk obviously wasn't going to
divulge any more information about this so-called mail
run he'd slotted me for and I'd seen no reason to gawk
at him. So I came down to the galley, to gawk into the
coffee.
But with people beaming onto the ship without the
slightest announcement, I had another direction to
gawk in. The affrontery of it held me to my place half
out of the hatch, peering around the main mast.
Three Star Fleet Security Division uniforms distilled
into being and stopped shimmering. Two men, large.
And a woman, compactly built but still somehow
imposing in her own subdued way.
Kirk got up from the helm chair, moving to them like
a prowling ghar-tiger. Sharply he demanded, "Just
what is the meaning of this intrusion?"
"Captain James Kirk?" a big goon of a lieutenant
began. It was a formality only, the beginning of a
recitation. "Yes."
"Lieutenant Alexander, sir. Sir, I am instructed to
escort you to Star Fleet headquarters regarding an
inquiry issued by Star Fleet Command and the Federa-
tion Military, Advisory Committee---"
"Why?" Kirk asked with typical bluntness.
"For questioning regarding the theft of special tech-
nology by a member of your crew."
Kirk's voice changed. "Which member?"
"Lieutenant Sarda."
17
I bumped my head on the hatchway in a bolt of
shock. Sarda... only weeks ago my biggest concern
about Sarda was helping him find a channel back into
the Vulcan disciplines he'd been denied by his race's
pacifist prejudices. Only weeks ago we were fighting
side by side. How did he get himself embroiled in
espionage while on shore leave? I gripped the hatch
rim and dug my fingernails in, seized with a sudden
need to talk to him, to find out why--
"What in the devil!" McCoy blurted.
Scott moved to stand beside Kirk, a united front. He
glared at Lieutenant Alexander. "You'd better have
your chevrons on straight for this one, lad," he
warned. "Lieutenant Sarda is a recipient of the Silver
Palm."
The lieutenant shrugged. "Anyway."
Mr. Scott bristled. "You don't just go about tossing
accusations at Federation honorees."
Alexander took a breath, ignored him, and ad-
dressed the captain again. "I am authorized to escort
you to Star Fleet Command Headquarters for ques-
tioning regarding this theft. If you do not choose to
cooperate, I am authorized to place you under special
arrest---"
"In other words, I go with you either way," Kirk
finished, his eyes narrowing.
"Correct, sir." Alexander pivoted on one foot and
faced Mr. Scott. "Chief Engineer Montgomery
Scott?"
"Aye..."
"Sir, I am instructed to escort you to Star Fleet
headquarters regarding an inquiry issued by Star Fleet
Command and the Federation Military--" "A' right, mister, I've heard it."
"I'm authorized to escort you to Star Fleet Com-
mand Headquarters for questioning. If you choose not
to cooperate, I am authorized to place you under
special arrest."
lg
I ducked back into the forecabin. Even beyond the
complete surprise and unlikelihood of this turnabout, I
sensed a deeper wrongness. Slipping aft through the
cabins, I hid at the bottom of the aft hatch and lis-
tened. Half expecting Alexander to have turned to
McCoy with his recitation, I had to recalibrate when
he turned instead to Kirk and said, "Sir, I must
request that you inform me as to the whereabouts of
Commander Spock, who has also been named in the
inquiry."
There was a pause.
Kirk's voice was low-toned. "Mr. Spock is not
aboard."
"Where is he, sir?"
'"On leave. I don't know specifically where." His'
vocal timbre stiflened then. "Lieutenant, this is a
gross breach of protocol as well as a serious accusa-
tion. I demand to know who's responsible for levying
these
charges."
"Sir, there are no charges. This is only an emer-
gency inquiry. I must also request that you inform me
as to the whereabouts of the following Fleet personnel,
who have also been called in for questioning Lieuten-
ant Commander Hikaru Sulu, Lieutenant Nyota
Uhura, Lieutenant Commander Piper."
While I crouched in the forward hatch, my heart
shriveled up and ran into the fo'c'sle. I couldn't swal-
low anymore.
"I'm not in the habit," Kirk went on, very steadily
measuring his hidden message, "of monitoring my
crew's shore leaves. None of those people are here."
"Then if you and Mr. Scott will please gather your
things, I'!1 signal the cruiser to beam us up."
The lack of immediate alternatives showed in Kirk's
voice; though I couldn't see his face, I knew exactly
what his eyes were doing. "Dr. McCoy isn't able to
pilot this schooner alone, Lieutenant. You'll have to
wait until we make port."
19
I ducked back another step into the aft cabin. His
message was gaining poignant clarity, if not explana-
tion.
"Yes, sir," Alexander said. "A Star Fleet low-
atmosphere tug is on the way to take control of this
vessel. The sailing plan you filed with the San Fran-
cisco Maritime Authority specified New Providence as
your next port of call. The boat will be taken there,
unless you specify somewhere else. We could have the
boat beamed somewhere, if necessary, but it's offi-
cially impounded until further notice." I caught a
glimpse of Alexander's gesture toward the sober fe-
male guard. "Yeoman Philotoff will remain on board
until the tug arrives. She knows how to steer it."
Beam the whole ship? Wow...
"Now just a minute," McCoy interfered, blustering
"How can we be expected to supply any useful infor-
mation, considering we've been sitting on this ocean,
out of touch with everybody and everything? How do
you explain that?"
"I don't, sir."
The sound of shuffling feet replaced the voices for a
moment, then relented again.
"Captain," Alexander said. "I have here a warrant
of permission to search this boat, the North American
