by Judith
He heard his name echo in the vast hold of the ship and turned to see Gauvreau standing on an observation platform near the control booth. She waved to him.
About time, thought Kirk, now we can get this over with. Two weeks in deep space with her and he still had no idea how to read her. He couldn’t make up his mind whether or not he thought Starfleet had made a mistake in letting go an officer of her wide-ranging abilities, or had been wise in refusing to promote such an uncaring and emotionless perfectionist. At least her cats liked her.
Kirk arrived at the ladder leading up to the observation platform. He was pleased when he saw that among the packages and cases Gauvreau carried was the Shelton’s paymaster terminal. Liquid credits were slowly being phased out throughout much of the Federation as virtually unlimited power and manufacturing technologies became automated to the point where they were self-reproducing and maintaining. When the necessities of life had no value and interplanetary resources were prodigious enough to ensure that people could have almost anything they could imagine, a simple, cashless system of barter naturally arose. But out on the frontier, Kirk knew, there would always have to be some system of portable wealth so that credits could be taken from place to place in search of scarce commodities. Then again, who knew what the future would bring?
Gauvreau stepped back and Kirk climbed the ladder to join her. He saw her three cats in the cargo control room, staring through the window at her. She would not let them out into the hold, no matter how much they cried and rubbed at the airlock.
“Sorry to take so long,” Gauvreau said. “You’ll be pleased to know that the whole transfer of cargo was accomplished [266] without damage. I get a bonus for that and you’re going to share in it.”
“Thank you,” Kirk said. Whatever else Anne Gauvreau might be, she was fair. “Did you get a chance to find out about their public transporter facilities?”
“That’s what I came back on,” she said. “I even got you a rate card. But ... why not come back inside for a few minutes?” She pointed toward the airlock leading to the control room.
Kirk was in a hurry and it showed.
But Gauvreau was determined. She held up a small brown package and Kirk smelled what was in it instantly. “Real coffee,” she said triumphantly. “Stasis beans from Earth. Roasted locally. You can’t say no.”
Kirk couldn’t. He followed her back into the crew areas of her ship.
As the scent of fresh coffee filled the tiny lounge, Gauvreau unpacked another small case on the games table. “One of the reasons I was held up was because I tried to get online with the Starfleet update channels.” She glanced at him. “It’s completely legal. They’re a public channel.”
They were, technically, Kirk knew. But to intercept them, civilians usually needed a Starfleet-licensed receiver, which the Shelton didn’t have.
“So, I still have friends in Starfleet,” Gauvreau said. “And a few of them at the Starfleet office over on the spacedock let me download update files.”
Kirk watched the coffee bubble up from the osmosis inverter. He was surprised at how the prospect of reading Starfleet updates didn’t seem to affect him either way—he was neither interested nor disinterested, as if he no longer cared. Instead he wondered why Gauvreau was going to such lengths to let him know she had some.
“Is there something special going on out in the galaxy you think I should know about?” he asked.
“Don’t give me that,” Gauvreau said. “You know there is.”
Kirk listened to and read the main updates whenever he got [267] the chance. He knew that nothing had happened in the Talin system since Starfleet had blockaded it to keep out scavengers and exploiters. It had been estimated that the blockade would have to stay in place for at least five hundred years before the Talin came anywhere near their previous level of technological development. In the last two months, the only mention of Talin in the public updates had been in relation to the long-term resource allocations that the Federation was requesting for blockade maintenance. Starfleet had succeeded in doing what it had set out to do—close the datafile on the entire incident without withholding anything.
But now Gauvreau acted as if something had changed.
“Is it something you think I should know?” Kirk prompted.
“ ‘A good commander learns all that she can,’ ” Gauvreau quoted, “ ‘then uses all that she has.’ ”
“What’s in the updates?” Kirk didn’t want to recap Academy lectures. He wanted off this ship.
“It seems you’re not the only one who wants to go back to Talin.” Gauvreau slipped a microtape into a screenpad. “Recognize these names? Palamas, Carolyn. Frietas, Jorge. Let’s see ... M’Benga, Chapel, Fisher ... about a hundred others?”
Kirk took the screenpad from her hand and scanned the list of names. There was no Starfleet imprimatur on the display but all the names were of Starfleet personnel. All the names were of Enterprise crewmembers.
“What is this?” Kirk said, feeling the anger build in him again as he realized something was developing of which he was unaware. “This isn’t an update sheet from a public channel.”
“It’s a recall list, Kirk. Those officers and specialists are being reassigned to their previous posting.”
Kirk felt gooseflesh crawl up his arms and neck. “The Enterprise?” he whispered. But his ship was dead. He had destroyed her himself.
Gauvreau nodded.
“Who authorized the recall? Where’s the Enterprise?”
Gauvreau passed over another tape wafer for Kirk to read.
[268] “Authorization source is Vice Admiral Hammersmith, Starbase 29. And the originating source is given as Lieutenant Commander Scott, USS Enterprise, on station, Talin System.”
Kirk read the second tape and confirmed the code designations. His hands shook. “They told me she was dead,” he said. “They told me ... she’d never be operational again.” And why was Scott still on her, almost four months later, unless ...
“Where did you get these? How recent are they?”
“No more than a few days old, Kirk. And I’m afraid I’m going to keep my source at Starfleet communications a secret. They never pass on classified or military information, but sometimes it helps to know where the big ships are going to be—especially if I’ve got a hold full of real coffee.”
Kirk looked at the tapes Gauvreau still hadn’t passed over. As a civilian, it was a violation for her to have them. But perhaps some good could come of it. “No harm done?” he asked her, indicating the tapes. “Never,” Gauvreau said. “Little more than the gossip I’d hear in a bar.”
Kirk took the rest of the update wafers. Obviously, Gauvreau and her sources had gone to a great deal of trouble to pull out all recent transmissions which had contained the words “Enterprise” or “Talin.” There were dozens of them and the story they told was staggering.
“They detached the port nacelle,” Kirk read. “They told me it couldn’t be done.” He scrolled through the reports. “And nothing happened, per the reports submitted by Scott. Replacement warp nacelles are in transit ... crew is being recalled. ...” For a moment, he felt as if he couldn’t breathe. “My ship ...” he said. “The Enterprise ... she’s ...”
Gauvreau reached out and took Kirk’s hand. “I know,” she said gently. “She’s going to be given to someone else.”
Kirk sat back and pulled his hand away. It was one thing for him to have lost his career and the Enterprise together. Without one, what could the other be worth? But to think of someone else taking out his ship, and his crew—he was wracked with terrible jealousy.
“They told me every circuit in her was fused. They told me [269] the nacelle was still drawing her into warp space and she could never be released.”
“Here’s a weapons-damage analysis report from Scott,” Gauvreau said, handing the appropriate tape to Kirk. “Read it.”
Kirk’s eyes sped over the display. “Only twenty percent damage ... precisely focused sub
space pulse. ...” He looked up, eyes blazing. “It was a deliberate attack. An attack beyond the Talin’s capabilities.” He looked back at the analysis. It wasn’t signed off by Hammersmith and it was tagged as a preliminary report, but it meant there was a chance that another reason existed for what had happened to the Enterprise. And to Talin IV. “But how did anyone figure the damage pattern out?” Kirk asked. “To break it down like this someone would have to crawl through the whole ship on his hands and—”
And then he knew what Scotty was still doing on the ship. Bless you, Scotty, he thought. You never gave up.
He scrolled through the rest of the tapes, scanning supply requisitions and personnel transfers until he had an idea of the schedule Hammersmith was on in getting the Enterprise back into space under her own power. He clenched his jaw. He had less than a week to get back to Talin before they’d be starting warp trials with her to bring her new nacelles into balance. A week.
“Thank you, Captain,” Kirk said, standing suddenly with the screenpad in his hand. “I can’t tell you what this means to me.”
“I saw the look on your face when you realized someone else was going to get her, Kirk. I know exactly what it means to you.”
“That’s not important,” Kirk said. “It’s this report from Scotty. If the Enterprise was hit with a precisely focused subspace pulse, then there’s another factor which hasn’t been included in the equation.” He swung his kit bag over his shoulder. “May I use the bridge to place a call to the spacedock transporter?”
Gauvreau went to the coffee osmoser and poured two cups [270] from the flask. “Sit down, Kirk, you don’t have to go anywhere, yet.” She handed him a steaming mug.
“You don’t understand, I have less than a week to get to the Talin system.”
“The Shelton can make it in five days.”
“I’m going to have to—what?”
“Don’t look at me like that, Kirk. You heard what I said. I’m the captain and this ship’s next port is Talin IV.”
Kirk put the coffee mug on the table, but he no longer felt the need to rush away. Not until he found out what Gauvreau was up to. “The Talin system is blockaded,” he said.
Gauvreau opened a small, soft-sided bag and pulled out two more pale yellow microtapes. “Now this one is from the public update services.” She held it close to her, not letting Kirk have it yet. “You see, at the Starfleet office, I was able to request a search for everything to do with the Enterprise and Talin IV, because they’re both within Starfleet jurisdiction. But for the rest of the Enterprise Five, I had to go to the public update bureaus.”
Gauvreau glanced down at the tapes. Kirk didn’t grab for them. He’d give her another minute to play her game. He knew what it was like to have another person hanging on every word.
“Now,” Gauvreau said, “for Chekov, I found nothing. He resigned. Was last seen heading out on a pleasure cruiser to Eisner’s World ... in the company of Sulu. Same thing. No other mentions of him, either. The communications officer, Uhura, well, she was released from detention on the Moon. Was met there by ... Leonard McCoy ... the one who took a swing at Hammersmith ... then they both went back to Earth, then to Mars, then to ... Rigel II of all places ... and then no more references, just like the others.”
“That just leaves Spock,” Kirk said.
“And you,” Gauvreau countered. “But for what it’s worth, you’ve been spotted on just about every seedy frontier world, doing everything except rockrigging and handling cargo. As for Spock, well, he’s one of the reasons why the Talin system might [271] not be blockaded for much longer.” She passed over the microtapes at last.
Kirk took them calmly from her, trying not to show how eager he was for the news of his friend. But then he forgot all about keeping up appearances as he read the update story three times before he was sure he believed it.
“Spock’s suing the Federation?”
“That’s what he said at his update conference.”
“And Starfleet?” Kirk blinked to clear his vision. “On behalf of ... Students for Stars for the People. Who the hell are Students for Stars for the People?”
“Last paragraph,” Gauvreau said. “Apparently it’s a radical student organization based at Berkeley.”
“Berkeley?” Kirk said in shock. “Across the bay from San Francisco, Berkeley?”
Gauvreau nodded.
“But that’s almost next door to Starfleet Academy. Berkeley’s been one of the most conservative universities on Earth for more than a hundred years. Why would Spock get mixed up with anything so ... ?”
“Amateur?”
“Exactly.”
“From what you’ve told me about him, I’m sure he has his reasons.”
“I’m sure he does, too,” Kirk said, rereading the update for the fourth time.
“But because of the challenge he’s threatening to bring over enforcement of the Prime Directive, there seems to be quite a public outcry to get emergency relief aid to Talin.”
Kirk sat back at the table, feeling overcome by the sudden assimilation of this much unexpected news. He had been so singlemindedly fixed on his goal of getting to Talin IV that he had not permitted himself to remember how much he missed his crew, and how much he cared for his friends.
“Even Spock will never be able to do that,” Kirk said. “No matter what they think the trigger incident might have been, as [272] far as the board of inquiry was concerned, the destruction of Talin IV was caused by Talin weapons and Talin politics. Neither Starfleet nor the Federation could possibly allow the Prime Directive to be broken there again.”
“Maybe,” Gauvreau said, “and maybe not. But my credits are on your Mr. Spock. All of them.” She flipped open the screen of her paymaster terminal and hit the balance button. It came up close to zero. The ship’s accounts were drained.
“There should be close to one hundred thousand credits in there,” Kirk said. He had seen the cargo manifest and the insurance papers from Lloyds.
“Already transferred out to pay for our new cargo,” Gauvreau explained. Should be shipping up to the spacedock within the next hour.
“What did you buy?” Kirk asked.
“Emergency supplies—medical mostly. Radiation stabilizers. Water purifiers. That sort of thing. Should come in handy when Starfleet calls off their blockade.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“According to the updates, Kirk, I’m not the only one. There are about two hundred ships already underway to Talin. And that’s not counting the additional picket ships Starfleet’s ordered in to manage the traffic. Something’s going to give there soon. And whatever else happens, you and I will be there along with your ship and most of your crew.”
She clicked the paymaster off and shut its screen down. “Now drink your coffee, so I don’t have to hear you complain about the jifficoff cubes anymore.”
Kirk lifted the mug and finally savored the rich scent of the brew. Scott hadn’t given up, he thought. And Spock was doing something completely outrageous. And if McCoy and Uhura, and Chekov and Sulu had disappeared, then the chances were more than likely that they were somewhere together, also planning something. He found himself smiling at the way things had turned out. He had decided he would go back to Talin on his own because he couldn’t force any of the others to share the hardships and the risks of the journey with him. Yet they had all [273] come to the same conclusion and set out for the same goals on their own anyway. Even when we’re apart, he thought, we’re a team.
Kirk sniffed the coffee. Real beans, freshly roasted, steaming hot. But even without tasting it, he knew it couldn’t be even half as good as what he had had on the Enterprise. And would have again.
FIVE
By standing to the side of the small window and almost against the wall, Spock could just see past the other towers of the student housing complex and catch a glimpse of clear sky over San Francisco. He looked into his human half for some connection with what he saw, bu
t the blue of Earth’s skies was still alien to him. He found it intriguing that he responded to the red skies of Vulcan in the same way—neither world held the skies of home for him.
Behind Spock, in the small and cluttered student apartment, five humans carried on two separate conversations—both about him. He followed their words easily while reflecting on the hundreds of skies he had seen in his travels, trying to recall which ones, if any, he had felt at home beneath.
After a time, one of the conversations became heated.
“Well, don’t ask me,” Marita Llorente said in exasperation. “Ask him.”
“I don’t think I can,” Marita’s companion said uncertainly. “Look at him. Isn’t he meditating or something?”
“No,” Spock said, and at the sound of his voice the other conversation died. “I am not meditating. What did you wish to ask me?” He turned from the window. For now, he decided that [275] the true color of his sky was black. His home was space. He was confident he would return there soon.
Marita’s companion was Penn Grossman, the young oriental human who shared these quarters with her. Spock had seldom seen a more harried or nervous creature. He had the attitude of someone who felt anything and everything which happened anywhere in the galaxy had some direct personal bearing on his life—usually negative. At least, Spock thought, in regard to my presence in his life, the young man is correct.
“Why did you have to go to the update services and tell them about the legal challenge?” Penn rocked back and forth on the worn couch where he sat beside Marita. The couch could be unfolded. It was where Spock slept. “That little grandstanding ploy could ruin everything.”
Spock placed his hands behind his back, remaining impassive as he rapidly tried to recall if he had ever before heard the term “grandstanding.” He guessed at its meaning from the way Penn had used it. “I assure you I was not grandstanding. It will be more beneficial to our purposes if update coverage of the General Council meeting is more intensive than normal, so that more beings will be aware of our struggle.” Spock had quickly picked up the cant of Marita’s organization. Typical for humans, they found romance in thinking of their political aspirations as rebellion. Many scholars on Vulcan still had trouble understanding how democracy had flourished on a planet where logic had not.
