Star Trek - Log 10

by Alan Dean Foster

  Kumara looked around the bridge, beckoned to one of the guards standing near the elevator doors. "Kora. Present yourself."

  A massive Klingon ensign left his station and marched over. He was a young, hugely muscled specimen and stood nearly as high as Leader Sarvus's shoulders, towering over everyone else on the bridge.

  "A little demonstration can be entertaining as well as instructive," Kumara said easily.

  Uhura-kirk looked outraged. "This is barbaric, Kumara!"

  "Perhaps. Sometimes old methods are best, however." Kumara glanced up at the waiting, silent ensign, then pointed across the bridge. "That one, the female."

  Kora nodded, grinning wickedly.

  "Not too fast, mind you," Kumara instructed the bulky soldier. "I have to give our guests plenty of time to change their minds about my proposal."

  Sulu-spock took a step in front of Uhura's body. "You can't let this go further."

  "Why not?" Kumara appeared to be enjoying himself thoroughly. "I see no one who is going to stop me."

  Several other guards now focused their weapons on the other three officers.

  "It's all right, sir," insisted Spock with Uhura's voice, as he stepped out to confront the Klingon fighter. He looked at Kumara. "Let us proceed."

  "Brave lady," the Klingon commander said. Privately, he was disappointed. She should be cowering in terror, as obviously outmatched as she was. Well, Kora would change her attitude fast enough, and perhaps her face as well.

  "Don't try to interfere, Captain," said Spock-uhura to the real owner of the body he was using. "I'll . . . take care of things."

  Kumara stepped down out of the command chair, gave further instructions to his fighter. "Remember," he whispered, "I don't want her killed. Rearranged convincingly, yes, but not killed,"

  "I will be careful, Honored Captain," the soldier insisted. Kumara nodded, then stepped out of the way. The huge Klingon advanced on Uhura's body, arms outstretched.

  "You can stop this any time you wish, Jim," he told Uhura-kirk, "by agreeing to my requests."

  Uhura-kirk looked agonized over the situation. Actually, it was a cover to allow Uhura a covert glance at Kirk-sulu. When the captain appeared content to let events take their course, she wiped the concern from her/his face and watched the open space in the middle of the bridge.

  The Klingon reached out with a long, thick arm. Spock-uhura's leg whirled up and around in a peculiarly forceful kick that battered the grasping arm violently to one side. The kick was followed by a hand that thrust straight at the Klingon's solar plexus. Even with Uhura's lighter musculature behind it, the well-directed strike carried plenty of impact.

  Kora whooshed, looked surprised, and backed away clutching at his middle.

  "Don't fool around, Ensign," ordered an irritated Kumara.

  "I was not, Honored Captain," Kora growled. Glowering ferociously at Uhura's form, he approached more cautiously. The combatants warily circled each other.

  This time the Klingon feinted with a kick of his own. Before he could withdraw the feint, Spock-uhura's hands came up in a strange way and caught the leg. They twisted, applying leverage as well as force. With a crash the Klingon fighter tumbled to the deck. Several of the other Klingon crew members murmured in confusion among themselves.

  Breathing hard, Spock-uhura stepped back as the ensign slowly climbed to his feet. If Spock had been using his own body, Kora would not be getting off the deck. He was trying to compensate for lack of strength with skill.

  "Watch him, Uhura," Uhura-kirk warned.

  It was a deserved warning. Doubly embarrassed now in front of his crewmates and captain, the ensign had turned an apparently routine assignment into a personal vendetta. He advanced carefully, giving Spock-uhura all the respect he would a Klingon male.

  Spock-uhura thrust with an arm. A Vulcan arm would not have been blocked, but Kora just barely managed to deflect Uhura's slimmer limb. Forsaking any hint of subtlety, the much bigger, heavier Klingon rushed past the extended arm, charging blindly into the communications officer's body.

  They fell to the deck. Powerful arms locked around Spock-uhura's waist and began to tighten. Spock knew he would have to do something fast or the body he was inhabiting would soon pass out.

  Bending and moaning as if in dire distress, he reached back with one hand concealed beneath the two entwined bodies. It came up behind the Klingon soldier, caught at his neck in the difficult-to-duplicate fashion which only a born Vulcan could truly master, and pinched.

  The massive shape of the ensign went suddenly limp. Spock extricated himself from beneath the Klingon bulk, stood up panting, and looked around.

  Puzzled and angry mutterings came from the Klingon crew members. One, another guard, bent over the unconscious Kora's body, threw a bewildered look at Captain Kumara and an even more uncertain one at the retreating form of Spock-uhura, who had moved to stand alongside his companions.

  "Well?" an angry yet confused Kumara said.

  "Ensign Kora is alive but unmoving, Honored Captain," the inspecting guard declared. "If I did not know better, I would say he has been somehow paralyzed."

  "Impossible!" Kumara gazed in disbelief at Spock-uhura. "He must have struck his head on the deck."

  "Face up to it, Kumara," said Uhura-kirk, "our Lieutenant Uhura defeated your chosen fighter fairly by Klingon standards, and by Klingon law you can't force her to fight again."

  "Yes, yes, I know." Kumara was desperately trying to salvage something of the disastrous situation. A glance at the Briamosite clearly showed that the honor of Klingon had suffered in the eyes of an inferior alien race. That was embarrassing.

  Then he brightened, having thought of a way to turn a defeat into victory. "I have done what I really intended, Leader Sarvus, which was to fool these representatives of a heartless government into displaying their true inclinations. They are dedicated only to the arts of war, as their attitude just now proves."

  "How can you say that?" interjected Sulu-spock, stepping forward. "You who are of Klingon, one of the most militaristic societies in galactic history. You have no room for honest feelings, for the good things of civilization such as art and poetry and song!"

  This wholly impossible emotional outburst from the Enterprise's executive officer left Kumara without words. "Poetry . . . Ah, you mean the coldly logical mathematical precision of rhymes."

  "Oh no, no!" Sulu-spock protested vehemently. "Members of all Federation races are sensitive to all aspects of creative endeavor. Myself, I often prefer free verse."

  Spock-uhura shuddered at that, but no one noticed.

  "From the heartrending strains of Szygenic music," Sulu-spock was saying passionately, "to the loose mind-stanzas of M'radd of Cait. Some of those sonnets are so . . . so . . ." Sulu-spock wiped away a tear. The unfamiliar precipitation burned, but Sulu bore it stoically. "You'll have to excuse me," he said, the tears flowing freely now. "The mere thought of his poetry causes me to lose all control."

  If Kumara had been flabbergasted by the diminutive Lieutenant Uhura's prowess at hand-to-hand combat, the sight of a sobbing Vulcan was unreal enough to paralyze him almost as completely as was the still-unconscious Ensign Kora.

  Uhura-kirk jumped into the silence. "You see, Kumara, you can't win. You can't threaten us into signing those treaty forms, and now you'll never convince this gentlebeing," and she indicated the Briamosite leader, "that everything you say isn't a lie."

  "No doubt there is to that," Sarvus declared with finality.

  No one could tell if Kumara heard any of this. He was in a state of shock, first from seeing one of his most powerful warriors knocked silly by a delicate human female, and second by the sight of an emotionally upset Vulcan.

  Finally he blinked, seemed to see them clearly again. "There are a great many things in this universe I do not pretend to understand," he declared softly, with more modesty than the average Klingon fighter, "and today's events are among them."

  He turned to face Uhur
a-kirk. "I concede this conference to you, Jim. I cannot continue playing the game while I doubt the evidence of my own eyes. You have won a round, not a war. But while I do not know how you have done what you have done here, I still can win a greater victory. You may return to the surface of Briamos," and he smiled mirthlessly, "but that remains aboard." He gestured at the glowing cube beneath Kirk-sulu's arm.

  "That's not possible," insisted Uhura-kirk, playing her part to the hilt. "You know what the Federation's reaction would be if we turned over an unopened stasis box to you."

  "My dear Jim, how outraged you can be. You have no choice in the matter. I am not a believer in useless causes, so I will not kill you when there is no benefit to it. Briamos has married itself, sadly for them, to the Federation. Similarly, it is useless for you to insist on retaining the stasis box. It is allied to no one. It remains here, with me. I would rather have it than Briamos anyway." He threw Sarvus a contemptuous look. The dignified Briamosite leader was not affected.

  Uhura-kirk turned to Sulu-spock. "Mr. Spock, your opinion?"

  "It is a risk, Captain. The box hopefully contains nothing dangerous to the Federation. Captain Kumara is correct when he says we have no choice. He risks a major diplomatic incident over the theft, but that is his problem. We can do nothing except refuse transport. By moving within the field, we could conceivably kill ourselves, thus inviting attack by the Enterprise and Briamosite ships. But we have someone besides ourselves to consider." He indicated the watching Leader. "We cannot ask him to risk his life."

  "Don't for me worry, gentlebeings," Sarvus said. "If you believe that box would be so valuable to these . . . creatures"—and he gestured at Kumara, who bristled but did not reply—"then I am here quite prepared to die."

  "No. It would be useless," Uhura-kirk said, seemingly despondent but actually trying hard not to laugh. "Kumara would still have the box." She composed herself, faced the Klingon commander.

  "We accept your offer because we have no choice. I'm betting the box contains nothing the Empire can use."

  "A wise choice, Jim." Kumara was feeling progressively better about things. What matter a few systems? They had gained a Slaver stasis box! "Naturally, the box may be empty. Who knows?" He waved at the guards. "Escort them all back to the transporter room and have them beamed down to their previous positions."

  The four Federation officers and Sarvus were herded from the room, Kumara's attention turned to the box. Walking over to where Kirk-sulu had placed it on the deck, he picked it up. Turning it over and over in his hands he finally placed it on the floor next to the command chair, basking in its strong azure glow.

  "Klaythia," he called to his chief science officer, "set up a field nullifier."

  "Immediately, Honored Captain."

  "Perhaps this will contain the final weapon," Kumara murmured as he stared at the metal cube. "The device which will enable us to achieve our destiny and wipe the decadent Federation from this part of the galaxy, so that we may expand as was intended for us in the Great Scheme of Things." He walked around the box, inspecting it from all sides.

  "And even if it is empty," he concluded with delight, "Kirk will have no way of knowing that. It will always prey on his thoughts that he might have given us an all-powerful discovery. At least, if nothing else, I will gain personal satisfaction from this unfortunate conference!"

  The instant the five former prisoners had rematerialized on the surface of Briamos, before the startled gaze of two guards in the otherwise empty conference chamber, Uhura-kirk turned to the Briamosite leader.

  "I hope you'll excuse us if we depart quickly, sir. There are reasons to think Captain Kumara might try to go back on his decision letting us go. We'll be safely out of the grip of the Klingon transporters back on the Enterprise. And some simple adjustments in your own communications equipment will prevent him from beaming you aboard also."

  "No need to worry about that." Sarvus's reply was calm, but his ears were semaphoring like leaves in a hurricane. Other excited Briamosites were entering the room, having been called by the two guards. Several turned as soon as they entered, departing on the run. "I have just given orders for our ships to attack, assuming the Klingon beast has been foolish enough to linger within range of our weapons." He sounded curious now. "But why should the Klingon risk waiting here to try and recapture you? He has gained the valuable box. Surely he should be speeding away from this spatial vicinity to avoid pursuit by your ship."

  "He might try to come back," Uhura-kirk told the Leader.

  "We'll beam a complete explanation to you, sir," Kirk-sulu said, unable to restrain himself any longer. Ignoring Leader Sarvus's increasingly confused expression, he flipped open his communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise."

  "Enterprise here," came the prompt response. "Engineer Scott spea—" There was a pause, then Scott added excitedly, "Captain! You're back on the surface. What—?"

  "Tell you soon, Scotty. Beam us up immediately and prepare to get underway."

  "But I . . . Aye, Captain. Stand by."

  Kirk flipped off the communicator. While he didn't think Kumara would return on discovering that the stasis box had been opened previously and that the instrument generating its "stasis field" was a fake of Federation manufacture, he did not want to linger around Briamos to find out. The Briamosites could take care of themselves. While he didn't necessarily relish the thought of someone else destroying Kumara, diplomatically it would be better if the Federation wasn't involved.

  Four pillars of multicolored energy filled the conference chamber. Beyond, tall pleasure-seekers enjoyed the warm waters of the cliff-cupped bay and the white gypsum sands, ignorant of the drama that had been played out during their vacation times.

  Before his vision faded, Kirk saw the Leader of the United Systems of Briamos waving to them. His perpetually frozen expression had finally shattered, and he was smiling with his face as well as his ears, as if to insure beyond a doubt that Briamos and its sister worlds would remain a staunch and valuable addition to the Federation civilization for many centuries to come.

  Kirk was no more disoriented than usual when he rematerialized back on board the Enterprise. Scott was manning the transporter console himself. When Kirk took a step toward the engineer, out of the alcove, he nearly stumbled awkwardly. It was an awkwardness, however, born of renewed familiarity. At the same instant he was looking down at himself, there came a startled exclamation from behind him.

  "Captain!"

  The voice and form were those of his helmsman, Lieutenant Sulu. But he had been occupying Sulu's body! And if Sulu was standing there, healthy and composed behind him, that meant that he—

  Sulu finished the thought for him. "Captain, we're back in our own bodies!"

  "So it would appear, Lieutenant." Spock stepped out of the alcove, looking expectantly toward the transporter console.

  Scott trotted around to greet them, beaming with personal as well as professional satisfaction. "I tried to tell you, Captain, but you told me to beam you up fast. I figured that explanations weren't necessary anyhow. Besides, there was a chance it wouldn't work, that I hadn't made the repairs completely or properly."

  "Unlikely, Mr. Scott, if you felt confident enough to beam us back up without warning us first."

  Spock's comment was delivered with his usual seeming indifference, but Scott knew the first officer well enough to recognize a supreme compliment when he heard one. Spock's seemingly unconcerned statement meant more to the chief engineer than a fistful of written commendations.

  He accepted it as matter-of-factly, however, as it had been given—one professional, high-ranking officer to another.

  "I don't know about the rest of you," Sulu said, "but I feel like I'd been wearing the same set of clothes for twenty years and just had them cleaned for the first time."

  "It's strange," Kirk agreed, "to be back in something you never imagined being without." He smiled tightly at his chief engineer. "Thanks, Scotty. Ship's status?"


  "Ready to leave Briamos orbit, Captain. All stations alerted and waiting."

  "Then we'd better get underway." He moved to the nearest intercom, flipped it to open mode.

  "Bridge, this is the captain speaking," he said forcefully, thoroughly enjoying the sound of his own voice inside his head.

  "Is it really the captain?" came the uncertain reply. Kirk recognized the gentle voice of Lieutenant Arex.

  "It is, Lieutenant. We're all back in our own homes again. Warp-factor three, set course for Starbase Twenty-Five. I'll be up in a second."

  "Very good, sir. And sir?"

  "Yes, Lieutenant?"

  "It's great to have you back where you belong."

  "Thanks, Mr. Arex." Kirk grinned at the ancient snatch of song. "We feel the same. Kirk out."

  Uhura stepped down out of the alcove, still a little dizzy from reintegration, in more sense than one. "You can go now, Mr. Scott."

  The chief eyed her oddly. "I beg your pardon, Lieutenant?"

  She looked abruptly embarrassed. "I'm sorry, sir. I was still playing the captain."

  "And you did a conference-saving job of it, too, Lieutenant Uhura." Kirk eyed each one of them in turn. "That's something which will go into everyone's records. Let's go."

  As they stepped into the waiting turbolift car, Kirk noticed that the communications officer was limping. Old fears came back. Perhaps Scott's rectifier hadn't been one hundred percent corrected. "What's the trouble, Lieutenant?" he inquired uneasily.

  "I've got a bruise that feels like it covers the whole back of my right leg, sir," she replied feelingly, "and both my arms weigh about twice normal."

  "I am sorry about that, Lieutenant Uhura." Spock sounded apologetic. "It was difficult enough for me to counter the size and strength of the Klingon soldier Captain Kumara pitted against me. I'm afraid I was forced to employ muscular arrangements which your body is not familiar with, as well as blocking off certain neural responses in order to shut off pain so I could remain functioning."

  Uhura winced, rubbed at the back of her injured leg. "I wish you'd been a little more careful, Mr. Spock. I'm pretty proud of this body myself and I don't like having it banged up."