“Is it manned, Mr. Lynch?” the captain asked.
“Hard to tell,” the science officer answered. “There’s a forcefield around it that’s playing havoc with our sensors, sir. The only good reading we can get is a visual one.”
“Hail it, Mr. Borrik,” said Augenthaler.
Mitchell turned to watch the communications officer comply with the order. “No answer,” Borrik responded after a moment or two.
The captain turned to Lynch. “Care to speculate as to what these things might be, Lieutenant?”
The science officer frowned in the red glow of his monitors. “They could be almost anything, sir.”
“I don’t see any weapons batteries,” Kirk chipped in.
“No obvious ones,” said Augenthaler, his brow furrowing. “But that doesn’t mean the things aren’t armed. They could have weapons concealed inside them, ready to roll out at the first sign of trouble.”
“Or they could be completely innocuous,” Lynch suggested. “Maybe a prelude to first contact.”
“You mean someone’s examining the Sordinians before they initiate relations?” the captain asked.
“That’s what I’m thinking,” said the science officer.
Mitchell saw Augenthaler scowl and turn in his chair. “It’s certainly a possibility. Mr. Borrik, hail Prime Vodanis. Let’s see if he can shed any more light on the situation for us.”
“Aye, sir,” said the Dedderac. He carried out the order, then looked up. “I have Prime Vodanis, Captain.”
Augenthaler faced forward again and got up from his chair. “On screen.”
A moment later, the Sordinian’s image appeared on the viewscreen. Vodanis was a tall and bony individual with eyes the color of silver, skin as glossy and dark as an eggplant’s, and a long mane of fine, white hair gathered into an elaborate braid.
He was also the highest elected leader of the Sordinian worldwide government, which represented the planet’s eleven billion inhabitants. Mitchell had read about the Prime between shifts, in the privacy of his quarters. The Starfleet file had described Vodanis’s courage and perseverance in the face of considerable adversity.
Unfortunately, the fellow didn’t look very courageous on the viewscreen. In fact, he looked pretty shaken up.
And Vodanis was the leader of his civilization, Mitchell mused. If he was reacting to the satellites in a bad way, the other Sordinians must have been quaking in their boots.
“I am pleased to see you, Captain,” the Prime told Augenthaler, his voice trembling ever so slightly. He swallowed visibly. “Believe me, you don’t know how happy.”
“Has something happened?” asked the captain. “Have the satellites made any threatening moves?”
“None,” the Prime replied. “At least, not yet. However, my people are certain we will soon be attacked by them, and that feeling has unleashed a worldwide panic. I have seen madness and terrible violence, and it only promises to get worse.”
Vodanis planted three-fingered hands on the surface in front of him and leaned closer to the view-screen. There was a decidedly desperate look in his large, silver eyes.
“Captain Augenthaler,” he said, “we have never devoted our planet’s resources to the making of weapons. We are unprepared to deal with these satellites. But you—”
“We have weapons,” Augenthaler responded, following the obvious logic of the Sordinian’s remarks.
Vodanis nodded. “Yes, my friend. You have weapons. And you must use them to end the danger to us.”
If there is a danger, Mitchell thought. To that point, no one had established anything one way or the other.
The captain took a breath, let it out. “We’ll do whatever we can, Prime Vodanis. Augenthaler out.”
A moment later the Sordinian’s image vanished from the screen, to be replaced by the same blue-green sweep of his world that the second officer had seen before. The satellite loomed a little larger, however, one sleek surface glinting in the sunlight.
Studying the thing for a while, Augenthaler sat down again in his chair and tapped his fingers on his armrest. Finally, he spoke up. “Hail it again, Mr. Borrik,” he told his Dedderac communications officer.
Borrik hailed it. As before, there was no answer.
The captain grunted. “Either the damned thing is automated or whoever’s inside it just doesn’t want to talk.”
Hirota came over to stand by Augenthaler’s center seat. “We’ve got to do something,” he told the captain.
Augenthaler nodded. “You can say that again, Commander. Unfortunately, we can’t just blast these satellites out of the sky. What if it turns out they’re occupied after all?”
“A good question,” the first officer conceded. “On the other hand, we can’t allow matters on Sordinia Four to spiral out of control. The Sordinians’ panic could do more damage to them than any enemy.”
The captain looked at him. “What do you suggest?”
Mitchell wanted to know as well.
Hirota shrugged. “Maybe the two of us should go down there and hold Vodanis’s hand for a while—show the Sordinians that we’re not going to let anything bad happen to them.”
“You could do that from the ship, sir,” Lynch reminded Augenthaler.
His eyes still locked on the viewscreen, the captain shook his head. “No, Lieutenant, I think Commander Hirota had it right. We need to do this in person. Show the Sordinians that we’re not afraid to be down there with them.”
He looked around the bridge at his officers, Mitchell included. “Besides, all we can do for now is continue studying the satellites—and this staff is perfectly capable of doing that without a captain and a first officer. In fact, we’d probably only get in the way.”
Hirota smiled. “Not probably, sir.”
Augenthaler seemed to consider it a moment longer. Then he got up from his center seat again and regarded his second officer. “Mr. Kirk,” he announced, “you’ve got the conn.”
Kirk swiveled in his seat. “Aye, sir.”
The captain pulled down on the front of his uniform shirt. “Commander Hirota and I will be beaming down to Prime Vodanis’s office. If you run into any trouble, contact us there.”
Kirk nodded. “Acknowledged, sir.”
Augenthaler led the way to the turbolift with Hirota on his heels. The doors opened with a soft whoosh and engulfed them, then closed again.
Mitchell glanced at his friend. Kirk seemed to notice, because he glanced back at him.
“Your orders, sir?” the navigator inquired in the most respectful voice he could manage.
The second officer frowned disapprovingly. “Let’s get someone up here to man the helm,” he said.
“Right away, sir,” Mitchell assured him.
This was going to be a good thing, he told himself, as he called for a backup helmsman via the ship’s intercom system. The more responsibility his friend had, the less he would think about whatever was bothering him.
Yes, the junior officer thought, stealing another glance at Kirk. It would be a very good thing.
* * *
Kirk waited until he saw Medina, his backup, come through the turbolift doors. Then he stood up, relinquished his post to the new helmsman, and turned to the empty seat just behind him.
It was a short-backed, metallic, blockish-looking affair with broad, sturdy armrests and a dark sheen to it, resting on a platform just a bit higher than the rest of the command center. And at one time, it had been the symbol of everything to which he aspired in life.
Back at the Academy, Kirk had played commanding officer in plenty of computer-generated simulations—too many to count, in fact—and in each of those simulations, he had given his virtual crew their orders from a captain’s chair. But all the while, he had yearned to sit in a real captain’s chair on the bridge of a real starship.
Of course, being a junior officer, he had never been placed in charge of a real ship. It wasn’t until the Farragut was plunged into nightmare that Kirk fo
und himself the ranking officer on a Starfleet vessel—and at the time, he was too busy at the helm to even think of sitting in the chair that had been Captain Garrovick’s.
Now things were different. It wasn’t circumstances that had given him the center seat. It was Augenthaler—and he had done it of his own free will. Finally, the second officer’s wish had been granted.
But how much did it mean to him now? As much as it might have meant a year or two earlier? Or had his experience on the Farragut forever stolen his yearning to command?
Kirk wasn’t sure. But he knew this—he had been ordered to look after the Constitution while his captain was away. His feelings about the situation were secondary; he would see his duty done.
Stepping up to the captain’s chair, he turned around and deposited himself in it. As it turned out, the thing wasn’t any more comfortable than it looked. A saying occurred to him: Heavy lies the head that wears the crown.
Kirk wasn’t a king any more than the Constitution was a kingdom, but the analogy seemed apt nonetheless. One wasn’t supposed to get comfortable in the center seat. One was supposed to tolerate it, even learn to adapt to it—but never really relax in it.
Not when so much depended on one’s alertness. Not when the safety of ship and crew hung in the balance of every decision.
For a moment, the second officer saw the bridge of the Farragut superimposed over the Constitution’s. He saw the bodies of the command staff lying where they had fallen, their faces deathly pale and cold to the touch. He wanted to look away, but the corpses were everywhere, draped over chairs and slumped at the bases of consoles….
He closed his eyes tight. When he opened them, the corpses were gone. There was no one there but his bridge officers.
Kirk looked around to see if anyone had noticed his discomfort. As far as he could tell, no one had—not even Gary. Everyone was simply going about his or her business.
As the second officer sat back in his chair, shaken but relieved, he heard the turbolift doors whisper open behind him. Out of curiosity, he glanced at the lift—and saw that it was Lieutenant Gaynor.
What’s more, Gaynor glanced back at him—then stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at Kirk for a second or two, his expression a mixture of resentment and disbelief. You, he seemed to say, in that chair? Then, with what seemed like an effort, he tore his eyes off the second officer and proceeded to the empty security console along the port bulkhead.
“I have the transporter room,” Borrik announced.
Kirk turned to him. “And?”
“Apparently,” said the communications officer, “the captain and Commander Hirota arrived safely in the Sordinian capital.”
The second officer nodded. “Good.”
He eyed the viewscreen, with its image of one of the alien satellites. The object seemed so peaceful floating there in space, so unassuming. But as Kirk had learned all too well, the most benign-looking things could turn out to be the deadliest.
The second officer had barely completed his thought when he saw a beam of blue-white fire leap from the satellite to the planet’s surface. It happened so quickly, so unexpectedly, he thought for a moment that it might have been his imagination.
“What was that?” he asked.
Another bolt of blue-white energy left the satellite. And another. His mouth went dry.
Finally, Gary answered him. “The satellite is firing on the capital,” he said, unable to mask the surprise in his voice.
Kirk looked at his friend, trying to absorb the information. The alien satellite was just what the Sordinians had feared, it seemed—the tool of an aggressor. But now that the second officer knew that, now that he had seen it with his own eyes … what was he going to do about it?
Remembering his orders, he turned to the Dedderac. “Contact the captain,” he said as calmly as he could.
“Aye, sir,” Borrik responded.
Kirk saw another bolt of blue-white energy descend from the satellite to the planet. If the captain doesn’t respond in another couple of seconds, he thought, I’m going to have to—
“I have Captain Augenthaler,” the communications officer announced.
“On screen,” said the second officer.
A moment later, Augenthaler’s ruddy face filled the viewscreen. “Dammit,” he rasped, “what’s going on up there, Lieutenant?”
Kirk got up from his chair. “One of the orbital stations has begun firing at you, sir.”
“You didn’t do anything to trigger this?” asked the captain.
The second officer shook his head. “No, sir. I—” Abruptly, something occurred to him. “Unless the satellite detected our transporter beam … and was programmed to react to it.”
Captain Augenthaler frowned. “That’s a possibility, I suppose. In any case, we’ve got a problem on our hands. The Sordinians have energy shields in place to protect the capital, but they won’t be able to hold up under this kind of barrage for long.”
As if to punctuate his words, there was a flash of white light in the background. With Sordinians running back and forth, their voices strident with urgency, Augenthaler muttered a curse.
“And of course,” he went on, “neither Commander Hirota nor I can beam back to the Constitution until the Sordinians lower their shields—so it’s up to you to disable the satellite, Mr. Kirk.”
The second officer nodded. “Acknowledged, sir.”
“Step lively, man,” said the captain. “Augenthaler out.”
Kirk glanced at his bridge officers. “Shields up,” he told them. “Battle stations.”
Everyone began to move at the same time. Fingers flew over slick, black control panels. Monitors flashed. Consoles conspired to create a symphony of high-pitched sounds.
The second officer turned to Gaynor, who was still standing beside the security station. “Power up our weapons, Lieutenant.”
Despite his feelings about the younger man, the security officer did as he was instructed. “Weapons powered up and ready,” he announced crisply after a second or two.
Kirk eyed his replacement at the helm. “Move to within five hundred meters of the satellite, Mr. Medina.”
“Aye, sir,” said Medina.
The Constitution edged closer to its target. In a matter of seconds, it had obtained the desired range.
“Target phasers and fire,” the second officer commanded.
Twin shafts of seething, orange energy shot out from the starship’s forward weapons ports, punching holes in the alien satellite’s defenses and ravaging its outer hull. What’s more, the beams raking the capital disappeared in an explosion of blue-white energy.
No doubt Gaynor had hit the satellite’s weapons center. Objective accomplished, Kirk thought.
Then something happened that he hadn’t anticipated. There was an impact that made the deck slide and shudder beneath his feet. He looked to Gary at navigation. “Report,” he demanded.
“Shields down twenty percent,” the navigator said. Then he added, “It’s the other satellites on this side of the planet. They started firing on us as soon as we activated our phasers.”
The second officer felt the deck jerk again, forcing him to grab the captain’s chair or lose his footing. As Gary announced that their shields were down forty-five percent, Kirk glared at the satellite they’d been firing on and tried to get a handle on the situation.
Obviously, he concluded, the satellites were linked somehow. When one of them was attacked, the others were programmed to defend it. It was a level of coordination neither the second officer nor Captain Augenthaler had been prepared for.
“Try to jam their signals,” Kirk told Borrik.
The Dedderac made the attempt. But after a moment or two, his console emitted a high-pitched sound and he shook his long, striped head. “It’s not working, sir,” he reported. “They’re protecting the signal from me somehow.”
“Lieutenant,” Lynch called out, “three of the other satellites have begun firing on the capi
tal as well.”
They were picking up the slack left by the first satellite, Kirk realized. So, really, he hadn’t accomplished anything at all with his phaser barrage. In fact, he had unwittingly made matters worse.
“Contact Captain Augenthaler,” he told Borrik.
The Dedderac worked for a moment at his console. Finally, he looked up and said, “Sorry, sir.”
The second officer turned to him. “Sorry?”
“The energy barrage is interfering with my signal,” Borrik explained. “I can’t get through to the capitol.”
Kirk cursed beneath his breath. Clearly, he was on his own. “Keep trying,” he ordered, just in case.
“What do you want the rest of us to do?” asked Gaynor, a touch of mockery in the man’s voice.
Good question, the second officer thought. A third time, he felt the deck lurch beneath him, nearly throwing him to the floor despite his hold on the center seat.
Gary swiveled in his chair to look back at him. “Shields down fifty-five percent, sir.”
If he waited any longer, Kirk told himself, some critical system would be disabled and the ship would be rendered helpless. Better to retreat now, while he still had all his options open.
“Get us out of here,” he told Medina. “Full impulse.”
“Aye, sir,” said the helmsman, implementing his orders.
The second officer saw the satellite dwindle in size as the Constitution withdrew precipitously from the vicinity. He could sense his bridge officers breathing a collective sigh of relief.
But what about Augenthaler and Hirota, down on the planet’s surface? And what about everyone else in the capital? How long could they hold out against three barrages at once?
Kirk looked around at his bridge personnel. At the Academy, he’d had a professor who told him a captain’s greatest resource was his command staff. He decided to test that theory.
Tapping a stud on his armrest, he accessed the intercom system. “Lieutenant Jankowski, Dr. Velasquez … this is Lieutenant Kirk. I need you up on the bridge on the double.”
Less than two minutes later, the doctor and the chief engineer emerged from the turbolift and took their places at the red-orange rail that surrounded the command center. The second officer regarded them along with Lynch, Gaynor, Medina, Borrik, and his friend Gary.
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