by Dayton Ward
Whatever you do, Bones, promise me you won’t ever change.
Deciding against responding to his friend’s good-natured jabs, Kirk instead kept his attention on the game and the enigmatic opponent sitting across from him. “Mister Spock, you seem entirely too comfortable for my taste, so let’s see what we can do about that.” With his free hand he counted chips from his stack and with a gentle toss deposited them on top of the small yet growing pile at the center of the table. “I see your twenty credits, and raise you another forty.”
Spock’s face betrayed not one hint of reaction, as though his features had been carved from granite. “A bold wager, Captain.” Without looking at the table or the cards in his left hand, the first officer retrieved a quartet of blue chips from his stack and put them on the pile. “I see your forty.” With a quick movement he took four more chips from his collection. “And I raise an additional forty.” Shifting his gaze to McCoy, he added, “To you, Doctor.”
“My mother raised no fools,” McCoy said, placing his cards facedown on the table. “Fold.”
Kirk, keeping his own expression neutral, once again searched for some kind of tell on Spock’s face, but the Vulcan betrayed nothing. “Doctor McCoy taught you well, Mister Spock, but I think he may have left out a few things.” Reaching for his chips, he grabbed enough to match the first officer’s raise, then reached for five more. “Fifty.”
Without the slightest pause, Spock matched the bet. “I call, sir.”
Extending his arm, Kirk laid his cards face up on the table. Three kings—diamonds, clubs, and hearts—were complemented by two nines—spades and clubs. “Full house; kings full of nines.”
“A most excellent hand, Captain. I congratulate you on your near victory.” He spread his own cards on the table, revealing an ace of spades along with four tens. Scott’s immediate reaction was to release a hearty laugh, which was accompanied by McCoy’s bright, wide smile. From the nearby tables, Kirk heard a quiet chorus of amused reactions and even some soft applause.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” McCoy said, “I present to you my finest creation: a Vulcan card shark.”
Unable to resist chuckling himself, Kirk shook his head. “I could’ve sworn you were bluffing.”
Reaching to the center of the table to retrieve the pile of chips he had won, Spock replied, “May I remind you, Captain, that Vulcans do not bluff?”
Kirk chuckled again. “Of course not, Mister Spock. Please accept my apologies.”
“You should try it some time,” Scott said. “Heaven knows you’ve got the perfect face for it.”
“Quite unnecessary, Mister Scott,” Spock said, pausing as he began the process of distributing his chips into stacks. “As the captain so astutely pointed out, Doctor McCoy’s guidance was most adequate to the task at hand.”
Offering what Kirk took to be a mock scowl, McCoy shook his head and released an audible sigh. “Thanks. I think.”
“You were the one who offered to teach him how to play,” Kirk said.
McCoy nodded while sipping from his brandy. “Sure, but I never thought he’d actually take me up on it.” Turning his attention to Spock, the doctor added, “For my next trick, Spock, I think I’m going to help you master the fine art of winning at Texas Hold’em.”
“I am somewhat familiar with this poker variant,” Spock replied. Now finished ordering his chips, he sat with his hands folded before him, the tips of his forefingers touching. “I look forward to honing my skills during actual game play.”
“And I suppose I should save up my chips,” Kirk said, leaning back in his chair. As Scott retrieved the cards and began shuffling the deck in preparation for the next hand, the captain let his gaze wander about the recreation room to where other officers had returned their attention to their own activities. Poker and other card games were under way at adjacent tables, and Kirk spied Lieutenant Arex Na Eth sitting in one corner, engaging another crewman in a game of tri-dimensional chess, using the third of his three upper extremities—the one extending from the center of his torso—to move his pieces. A few members of the crew were relaxing in lounge chairs, reading from data slates or actual books. Other personnel were engaged in conversation in small groups, but Kirk also caught sight of a couple sitting on a couch in one corner of the room, speaking in softer tones and seemingly oblivious to everyone and everything around them.
Glancing over at McCoy, he saw that the doctor was conducting his own observations of the crew around him, monitoring whatever obvious or hidden clues might point to something working against an individual’s physical or psychological well being. Having noted the couple in the corner, he shared a knowing look with Kirk, gratified that they along with everyone else in the room seemed to be in good spirits. For his part, the captain was pleased to see his crew taking the time to enjoy themselves and each other, stealing a few precious moments away from the demands of their duties. Far from home, tasked with a primary mission of deep space exploration augmented with diplomatic and humanitarian missions as well as whatever errands might be conjured by some bored admiral, life aboard a starship could be a challenge. Kirk knew that if anyone deserved a bit of downtime whenever the opportunity presented itself, it was the men and women under his command.
“Is this the boy’s club, or can anyone sit in?”
Kirk turned at the sound of the new voice to see Ambassador Dana Sortino standing behind Spock, making no effort to hide a playful grin. She was slim though not petite, possessing a build that reminded Kirk of a swimmer’s physique. Her features were framed by dark red hair cut in a short style that left the nape of her neck exposed. Though her skin was smooth and free of wrinkles, light gray highlights scattered through her hair offered the only clue as to her actual age, which Kirk knew to be early fifties according to the dossier he had been provided. Unlike the tailored business attire she had worn when she had first come aboard ship and during his previous meetings with her, the ambassador now wore cream-colored pants and a brilliant blue silk blouse that matched the color of her eyes. Her entire demeanor seemed to have changed along with her clothes, and she seemed more relaxed, as befitted the rec room’s casual air.
“Good evening, Ambassador,” Kirk said as he and his officers rose from their seats. “What can I do for you? Is there something you need?”
Sortino shook her head. “Not at all, Captain, unless you can direct me to some of whatever that is Doctor McCoy’s drinking.”
“Allow me, Ambassador,” the doctor replied, reaching for the bottle of brandy he had brought to the game and turning to look for a glass.
Indicating the table with a wave of her hand, Sortino asked, “So, what’s a lady have to do to get into a decent card game around here?”
Kirk gestured to the chair Scott had acquired from an adjacent table and was moving into position between them. “By all means.” Nodding in his first officer’s direction, he added, “I’ll warn you that Mister Spock seems to be something of a poker prodigy, thanks to the efforts of Doctor McCoy. If his luck holds out, it could be a long night for the rest of us.”
“I like a challenge,” Sortino said, smiling as she accepted a glass of brandy from McCoy. “I’ve spent my share of off-duty hours honing my own poker skills, though it’s been a while since I’ve had the chance to play. Maybe I can knock some of the rust off.”
“The brandy should help with that,” McCoy replied. “I’d go easy with it.”
Scott added, “And when you’re finished with that and need to cleanse your palate, just let me know, Ambassador. I’ve got a bottle of scotch in my quarters I’ve been saving for a special occasion.”
“Just one?” Kirk asked, offering a knowing grin.
Sortino nodded. “It’s a deal, Commander.”
“Please,” the engineer replied, “call me Scotty.”
“Only if you call me Dana.”
Settling back into his chair, McCoy reached for his own drink. “I have to say, Dana, that you’re not like most of the oth
er ambassadors we run into from time to time.”
The comment elicited a laugh from Sortino, who nodded. “Yes, I’ve read some of the reports from my colleagues about their various adventures aboard the Enterprise.” She looked at Kirk, her left eyebrow rising in almost Vulcanlike fashion. “They warned me about you, Captain, and you’ll be happy to know that there’s a dartboard in the break room at the Diplomatic Corps HQ in San Francisco with your picture on it.”
Kirk raised his drink in salute. “It’s nice to be loved.”
As he sipped his brandy, the captain reflected on the diplomats he had encountered in recent years. He viewed many if not most of them as myopic, vexing bureaucrats who seemed to find their way to the Enterprise with alarming regularity, armed with an incessant need to prove something. On the other hand, Dana Sortino seemed comfortable and confident in her role and the authority she carried, but without any apparent need to demonstrate that clout to anyone and everyone in close proximity to her. One of the marked distinctions between her and other diplomats with whom Kirk had dealt over the years was the fact that Sortino was also a retired Starfleet officer. She had reached the rank of commander, with advanced training as a sociologist and cultural specialist before accepting an assignment as the first officer of the U.S.S. Lavinius, a Loknar-class frigate assigned to patrol duty along the Federation-Klingon border.
“If you do not mind my asking, Ambassador,” Spock said, “why did you choose to leave Starfleet for a career in diplomacy? Based on what I know of your service record, you were in line for promotion and your own command.”
Sortino shrugged. “To be honest, I never really wanted my own ship. I never needed to be the one in charge; I’d rather be the one the person in charge turns to whenever they need something done. As for diplomacy, I’d had occasion to assist ambassadors and other diplomatic envoys from time to time, and I started taking an interest in the process. Of course, it didn’t hurt that switching jobs also meant I got to stay home more often. My husband was quite happy with that new twist.” Clearing her throat, she took another sip of her drink before turning her attention to Scott. “Anyway, I didn’t come to tell my life story. Let’s play some cards.”
Smiling, the engineer nodded. “Aye, that sounds like a fine plan, indeed.”
“I take it you’re tired of reading mission briefings and status reports from the first-contact teams on Dolysia?” Kirk asked as Scott began to shuffle the deck of cards.
Sortino replied, “You have no idea. I think my eyes were starting to cross.”
“You do not find the Dolysian people interesting?” Spock asked. “I must admit that I’m intrigued by what they’ve managed to accomplish, particularly given their current state of technological advancement.”
“It’s impressive,” Sortino said, “there’s no arguing that, Mister Spock. They’re about on par with where Earth might have been in the mid to late twenty-first century, if your people hadn’t seen fit to pay us a visit. A permanent presence on another world in their solar system, with regular traffic to and from it and an entire industry practically resting on the shoulders of that tenuous connection? It’s fascinating as hell, if you ask me. I can’t wait to see it for myself, and I can’t believe this rift or energy field that surrounds the planetoid isn’t something you’re interested in studying, Commander.”
The first officer nodded. “Indeed. So far as I am able to determine, the phenomenon is unlike anything ever before encountered.”
“Any theories on what it might be, Spock?” Kirk asked. Though it was very subtle, Kirk was still able to note the almost minuscule change in his friend’s normally inscrutable features as he pondered the question.
“I am reluctant to give voice to any hypothesis until more information is available,” replied the Vulcan. “However, the lack of any known precedent does tend to support the notion that it is not a product of nature, but rather artificial construction. It is worth noting that the sensor readings obtained and transmitted by the Huang Zhong’s science officer remain largely inconclusive.”
McCoy leaned forward in his chair, and Kirk noted the look in the doctor’s eyes as he asked, “You’re not just saying that because of any feelings you might have for the Huang Zhong’s science officer, are you?”
Before Spock could answer, Scott tapped the shuffled deck on the table. “Five card draw, nothing wild,” he announced as he began dealing cards to the other players, beginning with Spock to his left and proceeding clockwise around the table.
Seemingly content to leave Spock alone, at least for the moment, McCoy instead returned his attention to Sortino. “Ambassador, how are the Dolysians taking to the notion of having interstellar neighbors? First contact had to be something of a shock.”
“At first,” the ambassador conceded, “and that’s not even considering the Prime Directive issues, which pretty much went out the window when the Resolute found the sleeper ship. Still, that was mitigated by returning the ship and the crew to Dolysia. There was some initial unrest and even panic in some quarters, but by all accounts most of the population seemed to accept the new paradigm without too much trouble. Still, there’s been a small army of sociologists and other specialists working with government, scientific, and industry leaders for more than a year, helping to ease the burden of transition.”
Spock said, “There would seem to be many issues to address before Dolysia would be ready for Federation membership.”
“Absolutely,” Sortino replied as Scott finished dealing cards. Reaching for the five cards she had been given, she brought them up so that she could read them while straightening them with her free hand. “Still, they’ll certainly receive protectorate status, and one of the reasons I’m here is to negotiate a long-term trade agreement. The ore they’re mining out of the planetoid, erinadium, shows some serious potential to be useful in a number of areas. Don’t ask me to tell you what those areas are; all I know is that some scientists back on Mars have been studying samples of the stuff for months, and they seem pretty excited over whatever it is they’ve found.”
Guided by instinct, Kirk glanced at Spock, who was already lowering his cards and opening his mouth to deliver what the captain knew would be an in-depth recitation on the properties and possible uses of erinadium. “Your bet to open, Spock,” he said, grinning as the Vulcan realized he had been thwarted.
“Very well,” Spock replied, reaching for one of the stacks of chips representing his modest winnings from the previous hand. No sooner did he toss two blue chips into the center of the table than the familiar whistle of the ship’s intercom sounded across the rec room.
“Bridge to Captain Kirk,” said the voice of Lieutenant M’Ress, the communications officer assigned to the bridge during the Enterprise’s beta shift.
“If you get up to answer that,” McCoy said while looking over the tops of his cards, “you automatically fold.”
Rising from his seat, Kirk grinned and tossed his cards facedown on the table. “I didn’t have anything, anyway.” He crossed the room, offering greetings along the way to members of his crew as he made his way to a nearby wall-mounted intercom panel. After pressing the control to activate the panel, he said, “Kirk here. What is it, Lieutenant?”
“I apologize for disturbing you, sir,” the Caitian officer replied, her words soft and drawn out in a manner that could be soothing if not outright hypnotic. “I’ve just picked up a distress call being broadcast on all Starfleet emergency frequencies. It’s the U.S.S. Huang Zhong, Captain, calling from the Kondaii system. They’ve encountered some kind of trouble while investigating the spatial anomaly.”
His brow furrowing in concern, Kirk asked, “Does the message give any idea as to the nature of the problem?”
“No, sir,” M’Ress replied. “It’s simply a distress call, and seems to cut out in mid-transmission before repeating on a continuous loop. A data packet containing their most recent sensor readings has also been attached to the message.”
Not likin
g the sound of that, Kirk did not hesitate. “Send a message to Starfleet Command and Starbase 23, updating them on the situation. Instruct the helm to accelerate to maximum warp. Have navigation recalculate our arrival time and send that on to Starfleet, as well. And route the sensor data to the science station.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” the communications officer acknowledged.
“Mister Spock and I are on our way up now. Kirk out.” Severing the connection, the captain turned to his companions at their table, and noted that Scott was already reacting to the subtle shift in the pitch of the Enterprise’s massive warp engines as the ship began to increase its speed. The engineer was looking at him, his expression conveying the question he did not need to ask aloud.
Kirk nodded to him as he moved toward the table. “Break’s over, gentlemen. Time to go to work. Scotty, I’ll need you keeping an eye on the engines. Mister Spock, if you’ll join me on the bridge?”
“What’s going on, Captain?” Sortino asked, her own expression one of worry. “Something with the Huang Zhong?”
“It looks that way, Ambassador,” Kirk replied, sighing as he wondered what they might find when they reached the Kondaii system.
THREE
Despite the best efforts of the bridge’s environmental control system, the stench of acrid smoke from burned-out relays and scorched insulation still assailed Ronald Arens’s nostrils. Normal illumination had been extinguished as a consequence of losing main power, replaced by emergency lighting that cast most of the bridge in shadows highlighted by the glow of workstations and status monitors. Though the alert sirens had been deactivated at least a full minute earlier, his ears still rang with their sharp warble. Because of that, it took Arens an extra moment to realize that the omnipresent reverberation of the Huang Zhong’s warp engines was notable by its absence.
