STAR TREK: TOS #86 - My Brother's Keeper, Book Two - Constitution

by Michael Jan Friedman

  In a dark corner of his mind, the man was still reliving that pivotal moment when he could have pressed a pad and unleashed a phaser barrage at the cloud creature. He was still replaying the memory and [198] punishing himself when he hesitated, the way he had in life.

  Then, suddenly, it had become more than a memory. Kirk had been thrust into the command chair of the Constitution and forced to make a life-and-death decision. And once again, his hesitation—albeit of a different variety—had resulted in a tragic loss of life.

  “Jim,” said Mitchell, “the life of a Starfleet officer is full of tough decisions. I don’t have to tell you that. But we all do the best we can ... and afterward, we move on.”

  The second officer gazed at him with tortured eyes. “I can’t move on, dammit. Don’t you see? I waited too long to help those people on the Farragut. And then, just a little while ago, I waited too long again—and four of my fellow officers paid the price.”

  The navigator nodded, seeing exactly what his friend was talking about. “And now you’re afraid you’re going to do the same thing over and over again. You’re afraid that when the next crisis materializes, you’re going to make another mistake and cost someone his or her life.”

  Kirk sighed. “I don’t want anyone else to die on my watch, Gary. I’ve got enough ghosts to last me a lifetime ... and then some.”

  Mitchell drew a breath, then expelled it. All right, then, he thought. I tried to skirt the issue, but my pal doesn’t want to do that. So we’ll go the other way—we’ll confront it head-on.

  “Listen, Jim,” he said, “I don’t know what happened on the Farragut that day, and I don’t think anyone, alive or dead, is in a position to judge you on [199] that count. But when it came to Jankowski and Lynch and what took place on that satellite ...”

  His friend looked up at him. “Yes?”

  The navigator frowned. “I think you made the wrong decision. I think you should have gotten the Constitution the hell out of there, landing party or no landing party.”

  Kirk regarded him. “So you agree with Gaynor?”

  “I do,” Mitchell told him.

  His friend didn’t argue his case. He didn’t say anything at all. He just sat there and absorbed the comment.

  “But you won’t make the wrong decision next time,” the navigator said. “Or the time after that.”

  “How do you know that?” Kirk asked, his voice hostile and full of resentment. “One of your flashes of insight, I suppose?”

  Mitchell smiled. “I don’t need them in this case. You’re Jim Kirk, remember? You’re the guy they say is the most promising young officer on the block. Do you think Starfleet Command put you on the fast track these last several years because they like the way you part your hair?”

  The second officer sighed. “It’s one thing to have the tools ... and another to be able to use them.”

  “You know how to use them,” Mitchell assured him. “Hell, you’ve been using them since you were in your teens. You can’t let a couple of tragedies strip you of your confidence, Jim. You’re a good officer, a fine officer. You just need to keep telling yourself that, ghosts or no ghosts.”

  Kirk eyed him; No doubt he was thinking that his [200] friend’s advice was something easier said than done. But at the same time, he seemed to draw hope from what the navigator had told him.

  At last, the second officer nodded. “All right,” he said. “I’ll keep telling myself that.”

  “Good,” Mitchell told him. He turned to the monitor in the center of the table. “Now, where were we?”

  “At the beginning,” Kirk reminded him.

  “That’s right,” the navigator remarked. “And I was going to give you a hand, wasn’t I?”

  The second officer smiled a wary but grateful smile. “I believe you were,” he agreed.

  Together, they went over the data on the monitor. After a while, however, they decided they weren’t progressing quickly enough—so they split up the task, each of them using one of the monitor’s three sides. And they didn’t even think about stopping until Lieutenant Borrik’s voice invaded the briefing room more than half an hour later.

  “Mr. Kirk,” said the Dedderac, “the attack on the capital has resumed. And this time, the alien vessel has joined in.”

  Mitchell cursed beneath his breath, picturing the kind of devastation the mother ship could rain on the capital. “That doesn’t give us much time. We’ve got to pull something out of this database before—”

  He stopped, realizing his friend wasn’t listening to him. He was staring at his side of the monitor as if entranced.

  “Jim?” he said.

  “Mr. Kirk?” Borrik joined in, no doubt confused as [201] to why he wasn’t getting a response from the second officer.

  Just then, Kirk looked up. “I’ve got it,” he said.

  “Got what?” Mitchell asked.

  “A way to stop the aliens,” his friend explained.

  That got the navigator’s interest. “What is it?”

  The second officer glanced at the ceiling. “Mr. Borrik, I want you down here on the double. The same goes for Mr. Gaynor and Dr. Velasquez. Also, Polcovich and Banks.”

  “Aye, sir,” said the Dedderac.

  Burning with curiosity, Mitchell gazed at Kirk. “Dammit, Jim, are you going to tell me what you found or aren’t you?”

  When his friend looked back at him, he seemed a lot more confident than he had a half hour earlier—a lot more secure. It seemed, at least in Kirk’s opinion, that he had really discovered something valuable.

  “All in due time, Lieutenant,” the second officer replied thoughtfully. “All in due time.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  KIRK LOOKED AROUND the briefing-room table. Gary was there, of course. So were Gaynor, Velasquez, and Borrik, just as he had requested.

  In addition, there were two other faces at the table. One belonged to Polcovich, a tall, fair-haired woman who had reported to Lynch. The other belonged to Livingstone, a squarish, heavy-browed fellow who had served under Jankowski in engineering.

  Though Kirk had gotten rid of the cup, the place still smelled of cold coffee. And one other thing, he thought. Anticipation.

  “We don’t have much time,” said the second officer, “so I’ll try to be concise. As you’re all aware, the situation has changed. Initially, all we had to deal with were the alien satellites.”

  [203] “But not anymore,” Gaynor remarked impatiently. “Now we’ve got the mother ship to worry about, too.”

  “Exactly right,” Kirk told him, resisting the urge to bow to the man and proceed too quickly. He walked around the table, speaking as he went. “But part of what made the satellites so formidable was that they were able to act in a decentralized fashion, without any one station guiding the actions of the others. The system is centralized now, which, in a way, makes it more vulnerable.”

  Gary nodded, obviously beginning to see where his friend was going with his remarks. “Because if you can take out the mother ship, the threat represented by the satellites will be nullified as well.”

  “Right again,” the second officer confirmed. “The problem is we can’t take out the mother ship—not with all those satellites working in concert with her. And we can’t take out the satellites until we take out the ship.”

  “The chicken and the egg,” said Livingstone.

  Kirk scanned the faces in the briefing room. “The chicken and the egg, all right. But there may be a way to incapacitate the whole network, leaving the chicken alone to fend for herself.”

  “How do you propose to do that, sir?” asked Polcovich.

  The second officer turned to her. “I’m going to batter down a section of the mother ship’s shielding and send a team over—not for the sake of reconnaissance, but to sabotage the mother ship’s ability to communicate with the satellite stations.”

  [204] He let his words sink in for a moment. As he could have predicted, Gaynor didn’t look happy about the
m.

  “Batter down the shields and transport a team over. Sounds familiar,” observed the security chief.

  “Begging your pardon, sir,” Livingstone interjected, putting an even finer point on the comment, “but isn’t that the same approach that got Lieutenant Lynch and the others killed?”

  That was the question Kirk had been waiting for. The one he knew he would have to face sooner or later.

  “It’s similar,” he conceded. “But Starfleet officers have been beaming onto enemy facilities for a long time, Mr. Livingstone. They’re not going to stop because of a few casualties, no matter how tragic.”

  Livinstone didn’t push the matter. No one else did either.

  “May I assume, sir,” asked Borrik, “that you have located the enemy’s communications center?”

  “I have,” said the second officer. “It was in the data we downloaded.”

  “And a way to disable it?” Livingstone inquired.

  “That was in there, too,” Kirk told him.

  “What if the aliens have a backup communications system?” asked Polcovich. “That’s a possibility, isn’t it?”

  “It’s more than a possibility,” said the second officer. “It’s a fact. According to the data our landing party gathered, the aliens back up almost every operating system they have. My guess is that’s the problem Lynch and Jankowski ran into.”

  [205] Gary grunted. “How long before backup communications cuts in?”

  “Anywhere from fifty seconds to five minutes after we disable the primary system,” Kirk replied. “It’ll take that long for the system to recognize the problem and come online.”

  “So that’s our window of opportunity,” the navigator noted.

  “Indeed it is,” Kirk confirmed. He stood up again. “We’ve got that long before the mother ship regains control over the satellites. Which means we’ve got to destroy her in that window—or not at all.”

  There was silence around the table. The second officer chose to look at that as a positive development.

  “And what about the landing party?” Velasquez asked at last.

  “When the aliens can no longer control their satellites,” Kirk told her, “we’ll beam the landing party back—and take our chances with the mother ship one on one.”

  Polcovich regarded him. “Begging your pardon, sir ... but do you think we’ll have a chance against her?”

  “I do,” the second officer responded. “Judging from the information we downloaded, the aliens clearly have the advantage when it comes to firepower—but not when it comes to maneuverability. Their propulsion technology can’t hold a candle to ours.”

  The Polcovich mulled her superior’s conclusion. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to enhance that edge,” she said.

  “I will,” Kirk promised her.

  [206] Gaynor rolled his eyes.

  The second officer regarded him unflinchingly. “Was there something you wanted to contribute, Chief?”

  Gaynor straightened. “I was just wondering,” he said. “When the time comes, are you going to have the guts to destroy the enemy? Are you going to blow up that ship without a second thought?”

  Kirk had thought about that, too. “I’m not particularly looking forward to it,” he answered frankly and without rancor. “But if it’s a matter of saving the Sordinians, I’ll do it.”

  “Get off his back, Jack,” Velasquez told Gaynor, her voice the lash of a whip. She glanced at the second officer. “I have faith in Mr. Kirk, even if you don’t.”

  The security chief chuckled humorlessly. “I’m not the only one who’s lost faith in him, Doctor.” But he didn’t get more specific than that.

  “I’m sorry to hear that anyone’s lost faith in me,” the second officer told them all. Then he turned to Gaynor. “But I’m not here to please you or anyone else, Mister. I’m here to do a job.”

  The muscles worked in the chiefs jaw. Still, the man didn’t say anything in return.

  Kirk scanned the faces of the others. “I’ll need five volunteers,” he said simply. “Not only from those of you in this room, but from the security and engineering sections as well.”

  “I’ll go,” Gary told him, raising his hand.

  “I would like to go, too,” said Borrik.

  Then a third hand went up. To the second officer’s surprise, it belonged to Chief Gaynor.

  [207] “Count me in,” said the chief.

  Kirk didn’t understand. Gaynor had expressed a lack of confidence in the second officer. And yet he seemed willing to put his life on the line for the man’s plan.

  Kirk was reminded again of the way Borrik had described the security chief outside the lounge. Jack Gaynor is a proud man. A professional.

  Despite his personal opinions, Gaynor knew that his commanding officer had set him a task. Like Kirk, he had a job to do. And he was going to do it, come hell, high water, or cosmic anomalies.

  A moment later, Polcovich volunteered as well. So did Velasquez. Only Livingstone remained silent, obviously less than enamored with what he saw as Kirk’s prospects of success.

  Nonetheless, the second officer had the landing party he had wanted. Or most of it, at least.

  “Mr. Mitchell,” he said, “will remain here on the Constitution. Likewise, Lieutenant Velasquez.”

  Gary looked at him, disappointed. The doctor, too.

  But Kirk couldn’t let either of them go. If they were going to tackle the aggressors’ mother ship, he needed his best navigator on the bridge. And as for Velasquez ... eager as the doctor was, she didn’t have the skills that would be needed by the landing party.

  The second officer turned to Gaynor. “You’ll be the officer in charge. Borrik and Polcovich will follow your lead. And you’ll bring along two other security officers as well—your choice.”

  It was Kirk’s way of recognizing the chiefs sense of responsibility. His way of saying that, no matter what [208] had happened between the two of them, Kirk was a professional as well.

  The chief nodded. “Acknowledged, sir.”

  “Report to the transporter room in five minutes,” Kirk added.

  “Aye, sir,” came the measured response.

  The second officer looked around the table—both at those of his people who would be going and those who would be staying behind. Silently, he wished he were with the first group.

  “Dismissed,” he told them.

  Standing in the turbolift, listening to its motors shrill, Mitchell glanced at his friend Jim. “I would dearly have loved to be part of that landing party,” he said.

  The second officer nodded. “I know. But I needed you here with me. Medina is a terrific helmsman, but he doesn’t have much experience working on the bridge of a Constitution-class starship.”

  “And I’ve got several years’ worth,” the navigator conceded.

  “Exactly,” said Kirk. “You know the old saw ... never put a neophyte at the forward console if you’ve got a veteran available. And in this case, Lieutenant, you’re available.”

  Mitchell grunted. “I guess I am.”

  The second officer frowned. “Besides,” he admitted, “I like the idea of having you around.”

  The junior officer turned to his friend and smiled. “Thanks. I’ll try not to disappoint you.”

  [209] A moment later, the lift doors opened, exposing them to the buzz and hustle of the bridge. Emerging from the lift, Kirk took the dark empty center seat. At the same time, Mitchell moved to the helm-navigation console, where a dark-haired crewman named Masefield had taken over for him.

  Noting the primary navigator’s approach, Masefield yielded the post to him and returned to the weapons station. With a nod to recognize the man’s efforts, Mitchell sat down behind the console and diligently began checking his operations monitors.

  Warp and impulse drives were online and functional, he saw. Sensors, both active and passive, were working at full capacity. The same for the ship’s communication and weapons systems, tr
ansporters and life support. Even the ship’s shields had been brought up to full strength with power borrowed from less critical areas, and repairs had been made to those decks that had suffered in the exchange with the satellites.

  They seemed to be in good shape. But then, the navigator told himself, they would have to be. Depositing a team of saboteurs on the aggressors’ mother ship wouldn’t be an easy feat to pull off.

  “Mr. Wooten,” said Kirk, addressing the communications officer who had taken over for Borrik, “let me know when Chief Gaynor and his team arrive in the transporter room.”

  “Aye, sir,” answered Wooten, a square-jawed man with a head of thick, curly red hair.

  Then the second officer turned to the viewscreen. [210] Mitchell turned to it, too, taking stock of the alien vessel depicted on it. It was firing twin energy beams at the planet’s surface.

  Before, the aggressor ship had seemed impressive in its capacity for destruction. Now that they were set on confronting it, Mitchell thought, it looked even more so.

  We’re taking a chance here, the navigator told himself. We couldn’t even match up with the satellites. Throw in the mother ship and we may really be out of our league.

  But there was a planet full of people depending on them for help. They couldn’t ignore that fact. If they failed, Mitchell mused, it wouldn’t be for lack of trying.

  “Mr. Kirk,” Wooten announced, “I have word from the transporter room. The team is ready.”

  The second officer nodded. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

  “Aye, sir,” came the reply.

  Mitchell watched Kirk sit back in his captain’s chair and gather himself. Then he said, “Listen carefully,” and explained to his bridge personnel the plan he had unveiled in the briefing room.

  When he was finished, he asked if there were any questions. There weren’t any. If anyone had any misgivings about the second officer’s scheme, he had decided to keep them to himself.

  “Very well,” said Kirk. He took in his crew at a glance. “Report to battle stations. Raise shields, Mr. Mitchell. Mr. Masefield, power up the weapons array.”

  [211] Instantly, the bridge became a flurry of activity. Critical stations were activated and manned. And in the middle of it, the navigator erected the ship’s newly restored deflectors. In a matter of seconds, the Constitution was ready to go into combat.