No one moved. No one said anything. They all just stared at the security chief as he lay crumpled on the floor. Then, little by little, Gaynor began to open his eyes. With an effort, he sat up and wiped a dark strand of blood from his mouth.
When he saw Kirk standing over him, an expression of disgust distorted his features. “Are you out of your mind?” he mumbled.
The second officer replied in a firm but even tone. “I should point out, Lieutenant, that I’m not the one [251] who came storming onto this bridge with a phaser pistol in his hand. Nor, I might add, am I the one who decided to question the judgment of my commanding officer in public. Nor, finally, am I the one who defied that officer’s orders by heading in this direction instead of sickbay.”
The older man looked at him for a second, dumbfounded. Then his expression hardened again. “I’ll have a few choice words about my commanding officer’s judgment in my report,” he said. “Make no mistake.”
“That’s your prerogative,” Kirk told him. “After all, you were the officer in charge of the landing party. But you’ll have to make that report from the brig.” And with a gesture, he indicated that he wanted Masefield to escort Gaynor there immediately.
The security chief glowered at the second officer a moment longer. Then he turned and headed for the turbolift. Masefield followed. In a matter of seconds, both men were gone.
The second officer glanced at his friend, daring the navigator to say something. Gary returned the look for a moment, then turned his attention back to his control panel.
Sitting down, Kirk tapped his intercom stud again. “Kirk to sickbay. Dr. Velasquez ... what’s the situation down there?”
He heard the medical officer sigh. “Stable. How’s the situation up there?” Velasquez asked.
“Stable,” the second officer assured her. “I don’t think we’ll be sending any more personnel down there for a while.”
[252] “That’s good,” the doctor responded. “I’ve got all the company I care for right now.”
“How’s Medina?” Kirk asked. “And the landing party?”
Velasquez grunted. “Medina’s fine. Chafin and Reboulet took a fair amount of punishment, but they’ll be all right, too.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” the second officer told her. “Kirk—”
“Not so fast,” the doctor interrupted. “First, I’ve got something to say to you, Lieutenant.”
“What’s that?” Kirk wondered.
“Congratulations,” Velasquez said soberly. “It sounds like you did all right, all things considered.”
“Thanks,” he replied, trying not to blush. “Kirk out.”
By then, the next satellite was in phaser range. The second officer checked to make sure its shields were down. Then he gave the order, and Masefield blasted it out of space.
Two down, thought Kirk, and four to go. ...
Chapter Sixteen
SITTING DOWN in the Constitution’s center seat again, the second officer regarded the image of his captain on the forward viewscreen. Augenthaler was alone in the room. Apparently, he thought, Prime Vodanis and Commander Hirota were occupied elsewhere.
“The bombardments seem to have stopped for the moment,” the captain noted. He frowned at Kirk. “I sincerely hope you’re not going to tell me that’s a temporary condition.”
The second officer resisted a smile. “I don’t believe the satellites will give you any more trouble, sir,” he reported.
“Because ... ?” Augenthaler prodded.
“Because we’ve destroyed them all,” Kirk explained.
[254] “Destroyed them?” the captain echoed, sounding a bit skeptical. “You mean all of them?”
“All except one, sir,” said the second officer. “And that one has been disabled and taken aboard for study. After all, we never determined who the aliens were or why they came here.”
Augenthaler’s brow wrinkled. “Good point.”
“Also,” the younger man continued, “we destroyed an alien vessel.”
“There was a vessel, too?” the captain asked, making no effort to conceal his surprise.
“There was, sir,” Kirk confirmed. “Shortly after its arrival, it began coordinating the efforts of the satellites. There was no way to end the bombardment other than to obliterate it.”
Augenthaler looked impressed. “Sounds to me like you did a masterly job up there, Lieutenant.”
“That’s kind of you, sir,” Kirk responded, “but there are others who deserve credit as well. Lieutenant Mitchell, Ensign Wooten, Lieutenant Masefield, and Lieutenant Medina, for instance, for making critical contributions on the bridge. And then there are Lieutenant Gaynor, Lieutenant Borrik, Lieutenant Polcovich, and security officers Reboulet and Chafin, who transported aboard the enemy ship and disabled its link with the satellites.”
The captain looked at him with even greater respect. “Transported aboard, you say?”
“Yes, sir,” Kirk confirmed.
The older man harrumphed. “That must have been a tricky maneuver.”
“It required a good deal of coordination,” the [255] second officer admitted. “But we managed to pull it off.”
“Apparently,” said Augenthaler. “I’ll want to hear more about it when I get back, of course.”
“Of course, sir,” Kirk replied. He felt his mouth go dry. “Unfortunately, I also have some fatalities to report.”
The captain’s features hardened perceptibly. “Go ahead,” he said.
The second officer swallowed. “Lieutenant Lynch, Lieutenant Jankowski, and security officers Park and Zuleta gave their lives in the line of duty. They were killed when the alien vessel blew up one of its satellites.”
Augenthaler’s mouth twisted with grief as he considered the loss of his friends and colleagues. But he was a captain; he couldn’t dwell on it. So he took a deep breath to steady himself, then let it out.
In the end, all he said was “Acknowledged, Lieutenant.”
Kirk didn’t know where Commander Hirota was at the moment, but he was certain the exec would be even more aggrieved—especially when he heard about Lieutenant Jankowski. He didn’t envy Augenthaler the duty of having to tell Hirota what had happened.
Abruptly, a couple of Sordinians entered the picture from the background. The second officer didn’t recognize either of them, but the captain clearly knew who they were. He turned away from the viewscreen to exchange a few clipped sentences with them.
When Augenthaler turned to face Kirk again, he [256] seemed more weary than saddened. Apparently, there was still a great deal for the captain to do on the planet’s surface.
“It seems we’ve still got some work ahead of us,” he told the second officer. “At least until we can assure the Sordinians that they’re out of the woods. I’ll contact you when we need a ride up.”
“Aye, sir,” said Kirk. “We’ll be waiting.”
The captain nodded. “Augenthaler out.”
A moment later, the captain’s image vanished from the viewscreen, giving way to the blue-green expanse of Sordinia IV. The second officer took a moment to scan the faces all around him.
Gary was still at navigation and Masefield was back at weapons control, but Wooten had been replaced at the communications station by the remarkably durable Lieutenant Borrik. Also, there was a crewman named Tomberlin at the helm and another named Herzog at the science station. They all went about their business matter-of-factly, as if they and all their crewmates hadn’t been fighting for their lives less than half an hour earlier.
But then, Kirk thought, that was how it was supposed to be. A Starfleet officer was supposed to be able to put tough times behind him. He was supposed to have the ability to move on.
And that was what the lieutenant was going to do at that very moment. He was going to forget everything he had been through and move himself off the bridge, into his bed.
After all, his regular shift had ended hours ago and he was bone-tired. And as they had told him
back at [257] the Academy, a tired commander was sometimes worse than no commander at all.
Kirk turned to the Dedderac. “You’ve got the conn, Mr. Borrik. Wake me if anything important comes up.”
The communications officer nodded his striped head agreeably. “Aye, sir. I will, sir.”
Getting up from the captain’s chair, Kirk made his way around it and headed for the turbolift, looking forward to a respite. Then he heard a familiar voice say, “Lieutenant?”
Turning around by the rail, the second officer saw his friend Gary looking at him. “What is it?” he asked the navigator.
“Permission to accompany you, sir,” said the junior officer.
His tone gave no hint of why he might want to do that. But Kirk thought he had an inkling. He considered the request for a moment or two.
Then he nodded and said, “Permission granted.”
Mitchell waited just long enough for Herzog to arrive at the navigation console. Then he surrendered his post and followed the second officer into the lift compartment.
Kirk tapped the turbolift’s command mechanism with the heel of his hand. “Deck Six,” he said out loud—for his companion’s sake—as he entered the information. “Section four.”
Mitchell waited until the doors hissed closed, sealing them off from prying eyes and ears. Then he turned to his friend.
[258] But Kirk turned to him at the same time, his eyes fierce with determination. “I know exactly what you’re going to say, dammit. I didn’t make the tough decision.”
“Listen,” Mitchell began. “I—”
“No, you listen,” the second officer told him, poking a finger at his chest. “This wasn’t a test. It wasn’t the Kobayashi Maru scenario back at the Academy. This was a real-life problem, with real-life consequences. And it was more important for me to keep my people alive than to prove myself to anyone—you included.”
Mitchell shook his head. “You’re so—”
“Besides,” Kirk went on, “who made you the arbiter of right and wrong? You’ve never commanded anything in your life. How could you possibly know what it’s like to sit in the captain’s chair?”
“That’s exactly—”
“I took what I decided was a calculated risk,” the second officer declared. “And you know what? I got away with it, didn’t I? I saved Gaynor and the others and I achieved our objective anyway.”
“If you’d just—”
“To me,” said Kirk, “that’s reason for celebration, not insubordination and defamation and abuse from my navigator and my chief of security and who knows who else.”
“Jim, I can’t believe—”
The second officer pounded his fist into the palm of his other hand. “For crying out loud, Mitch, that’s the way Garth of Izar operated. He didn’t try to equate one experience with another. He identified each [259] situation as a unique set of problems and opportunities, then acted accordingly. And from now on, that’s the way Jim Kirk is going to operate as well.”
Mitchell held his hands out. “Dammit, Jim, I’m not going to—”
“Don’t argue with me,” Kirk warned him. He turned away from his friend and pulled down on the front of his uniform. “Anyway, what’s done is done. Period, end of story. If you’re bound and determined to be disappointed in me, I guess there’s not a whole lot I can do about that.”
Suddenly, Kirk whirled and the navigator found himself nose to nose with him once more. The man’s eyes had narrowed, and his finger was poking in the direction of Mitchell’s chest again.
“But I’ll tell you what,” Kirk snapped. “If I had to do it all over again, if I were faced with the same situation a second time, I’d do it exactly the same way. No question about it.”
Finally, it seemed, he had run out of ammunition. Mitchell looked at him. “Are you done?” he asked.
The second officer considered the question. “Yes,” he responded at last. “I’m done, all right.”
“You’re sure?”
“Quite sure.”
“Then let me say what I came here to say in the first place. What you did took courage ...”
Kirk looked surprised.
“... and instinct ...”
He looked even more surprised.
“... and a recklessness,” Mitchell said, “that I’ve seen in only one other person—the individual I [260] admire most in the entire world.” He smiled. “In other words, me.”
The second officer was clearly at a loss for words. His mouth gaped, but nothing came out.
“What’s more,” said Mitchell, “you did it while everyone including me was telling you to do otherwise. You stuck to your guns, pal. You persevered despite everything. And, as you so eloquently point out, you made exactly the right decision.”
Kirk looked a little sheepish. “Uh ... thanks,” he replied.
The navigator pointed a finger at him. “But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook,” he said.
The second officer seemed confused. “It doesn’t?”
“Not by a long shot. The day’s still going to come when you’ve got to make the tough decision—when you’ve got no choice but to cut your losses, no matter who or what those losses might be.”
His friend looked at him. He didn’t say anything, but it was clear he was considering the comment.
“What if your window of opportunity had been half as big?” Mitchell asked. “A tenth as big? Would you have been able to sacrifice your people then? What if ... what if it were your best friend on the line?”
Kirk frowned at the suggestion. “Tell you what,” he said. “Let’s hope we never have to find out.”
The man was holding something back. Mitchell could tell. He had an impulse to press the issue, to find out what Kirk would do in such a situation ... but in the end, he refrained.
After all, the navigator liked the bit of swagger the second officer had discovered in himself. He liked it [261] enough, in fact, to overlook whatever shortcomings it might conceal. Besides, he had a feeling that he and Kirk would have this conversation again sometime.
Just then, the lift doors opened on Deck Six. Mitchell and his friend looked at each other for a moment. It appeared they had found a common ground—a place where they could both accept the things that had happened and move on.
The navigator shook his head. “You know, if you hadn’t gone charging ahead with your assumptions instead of listening to me—”
Mitchell heard footsteps. Peering out of the lift, he saw a pair of crewmen coming down the corridor. He waited until they had passed by, then lowered his voice so he wouldn’t be heard by anyone except Kirk.
“This conversation could’ve been a damned sight shorter,” he said, finishing his sentence. He grumbled. “Back at the Academy, you said your middle name was ‘Racquetball’ ... remember?”
Recalling the incident, a lopsided grin took over Kirk’s features. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
“Well,” Mitchell told him, “from now on, it’s ‘Rhinoceros.’ ”
The other man shrugged, conceding the point. “If you say so.”
Silence, for a moment. Not the uncomfortable kind, either.
“Anyway,” the navigator said, “I’m glad things worked out.”
Smiling tiredly, Kirk nodded. “So am I.”
“See you later, then?”
“Later,” the second officer agreed.
[262] Mitchell watched Kirk exit the turbolift and head for his quarters, looking as tired as the navigator had ever seen him. If there was any justice in the world, he mused, his friend would lose consciousness as soon as he hit the sack and sleep the sleep of the guiltless.
Certainly, Kirk had earned it.
Chapter Seventeen
KIRK BLINKED, remembering where he was. On the Enterprise, not the Constitution. And he wasn’t a second officer anymore. He was the captain of his own ship.
But all these years later, Kirk still remembered the look on Gary’s face as he left the navigato
r there in the turbolift. At the time, it had appeared that Gary accepted his pal’s explanation for the things he had done in the captain’s chair. It had appeared that Gary understood his rationale for the life-and-death choices he had made.
Of course, Kirk hadn’t told his friend the whole story. He could admit that now, if only to himself.
He had held back, because, at that point in his career—that point in his life—he still wasn’t sure he could make the tough decisions. He wasn’t certain, as [264] the two of them stood there wearily in a lift compartment on the Starship Constitution, that he could have let one of his people perish under any circumstances.
The captain sat back in his chair and heaved a sigh. What would Gary think of him now? he wondered. What would he think of the way Kirk had handled the latest threat to the Enterprise?
After all, he had seen the kind of threat into which Gary was evolving. He had watched it happen, hour by hour, and he had attempted to convince himself that everything would be all right. It was only after Spock had provoked him, even suggesting that he kill his friend in cold blood, that Kirk had ordered Kelso to chart a course for Delta Vega.
Gary himself had acknowledged the captain’s wisdom in attempting to abandon him on the planetoid. What would you do in my place? Kirk had asked him at one point. And his friend had smiled an eerie smile.
Kill me, he had advised. While you can.
And even then, Kirk hadn’t quite learned his lesson. He still hadn’t been able to make the tough decision.
Shortly after Gary had broken free of his prison on Delta Vega, the captain had found himself holding a boulder high over his head, with a chance to destroy the monster his friend had become. But Kirk had hesitated for just a moment—and that hesitation had nearly proved his undoing.
Lightning-quick, Gary had seized the boulder and tossed it away. And then he had tossed the captain away as well, as if he were an insignificant piece of debris.
[265] It was only when Kirk got his third chance to kill Gary that he had finally done what was needed. He had seized the opportunity as a drowning man seizes a piece of flotsam in a raging river.
STAR TREK: TOS #86 - My Brother's Keeper, Book Two - Constitution Page 20
