STAR TREK: TOS - Enterprise, The First Adventure

by Vonda N. McIntyre

  “Is he writing something new?”

  “He only just finished Nine Suns,” he said mildly. “He gets a bit of a rest now.” People asked him that question all the time.

  “Oh, of course, I see,” Sam Kirk said, offhand. “How do you like the Enterprise?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come on—I’m not going to go carrying tales of disaffection back to my little brother.”

  “Honestly—I don’t know. I’ve only been here since this afternoon. I never met Commodore Pike. I haven’t met Captain Kirk. I’ve hardly met anybody. I was supposed to be posted to the frontier.”

  “I expect you’ll like it here. It’s true, Jim does have the capacity to be a stubborn—” He stopped and smiled sheepishly. “But he’s basically a decent sort.”

  “That’s good to know,” Hikaru said, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

  Sam glanced across the room. “Looks like Pike is finished with him—come on. I’ll introduce you.”

  Hikaru followed, nervous, trying to think of the best way to bring up his transfer with the captain.

  Jim sipped his fruit juice, wondering how to break the awkward silence Christopher Pike had left behind him.

  “Finished the official business?” Sam slung his arm over Jim’s shoulders.

  Jim started. He had not heard Sam approach.

  [55] Sam glanced after Pike, who left through the main entrance without speaking to anyone, without looking back.

  “What did Pike want?” Sam asked dryly. “To give you officer-and-gentleman lessons?”

  Jim elbowed his brother in the ribs. Too much had already been said directly or overheard for one evening. Perhaps Pike had good reason for his abrupt attitude, and perhaps he did not, but they could discuss him somewhere well out of the hearing of his former colleagues.

  At Sam’s comment, Commander Spock grew cool.

  “Like Commodore Pike,” he said evenly, “I, too, have ... responsibilities to attend to. If you will excuse me.”

  “I’ll come wi’ ye,” Scott said hastily. “The ... the engines need checkin’.”

  “Very well,” Jim said.

  They left the room.

  Uhura had overheard Captain Kirk’s remark to Commodore Pike; she knew that if she had heard it, Mr. Spock could not have missed it. And she knew perfectly well that James Kirk had overheard Scott’s comment. She weighed pretending neither remark had ever been uttered.

  “Captain,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “we’ve all been with Captain Pike for a long time. People take time to get used to change.”

  “I see that,” he said. “And some take more time than others.”

  Unaware of the incidents or the tension, Sam broke in. “Jim, I want you to meet Hikaru Sulu. His folks are old friends of mine and Aurelan’s. His mother’s a colleague.”

  “Sir,” Hikaru said.

  “Mr. Sulu, of course.” James Kirk extended his hand in a firm grip. “Have you met Lieutenant Uhura?”

  “Very briefly, sir.”

  “I appreciate your cutting your leave short in order to join us,” Kirk said.

  “Yes, captain, I’d like to discuss—”

  “How did your fencing tournament go?”

  “Uh ... I won, sir,” Hikaru said, surprised that Kirk even knew about it.

  “Which division? Epée? Saber?”

  “Saber and the all-around, sir.”

  [56] “The all-around! Congratulations. I did a bit of fencing in school—we should set up a match sometime.”

  “Yes, sir,” Hikaru said. Maybe he could get the transfer before he was forced to defeat his C.O. in a fencing match. “But, sir—”

  “Sam, let’s get Mom and I’ll take you on a tour.”

  “Captain—” Hikaru said again.

  “Sure,” Sam said. “In a minute. Hikaru, I was in the lab the other day. I needed a normal human blood sample—”

  “What?” Hikaru said, distracted. His hands felt damp and cold and his heart pounded from the adrenaline: he was trying to tell a captain of Starfleet that the captain had made a mistake, and it was not an easy job.

  “To use as a control,” Sam said. “So I volunteered one of my graduate students. All I wanted was a couple of cc’s of blood. But he backed off from my perfectly harmless hypo at half the speed of light, and he said, ‘No, no, you can’t take blood from me—I’m a facultative hemophiliac!’ ”

  Sam waited expectantly.

  Hikaru stared at him, then suddenly burst out laughing.

  James Kirk stared at them both as if they had lost their minds.

  “That’s a good one,” Hikaru said. “But I’ll bet you don’t find too many people to tell it to.”

  “I thought I might get some use out of it at the conference, but I wanted to try it on somebody first.”

  “Have you thought of handing out universal translators when you tell it?” Jim asked dryly.

  Sam laughed. “Excuse us, Hikaru, Lieutenant Uhura. Come on, Jim, let’s go see your ship, and I’ll explain everything to you.”

  They drifted to the edge of the crowd. They joined their mother and Admiral Noguchi, who were talking over old times and recalling George Samuel Kirk, Senior. Noguchi and Jim’s father had served together, but now, as the admiral reminisced, describing events Jim had never even heard about, the young captain felt a sudden pang of resentment. Noguchi had probably spent more time with George Kirk than Winona, Sam, and Jim put together. It was the chosen life of a Starfleet officer, the life Winona knew about when she chose him.

  [57] But their lives, the lives they chose for their children, precluded the possibility that George would have much effect on Jim or Sam. They had barely known their father. Perhaps, if he had lived, they would eventually have learned to know him better. For himself, Jim doubted that a parent and a child could become friends as adults, if they had been strangers when the child was young.

  Their father was never reconciled to Sam’s rejecting the place in the Starfleet Academy that had been reserved for him, for George Samuel Kirk, Jr., at his birth. It was Jim who followed George into Starfleet. But, Jim reflected, he would change the pattern of his father’s life as profoundly as Sam. He was glad that Carol had refused him. Jim would never leave someone behind who would wait for his visits, a stranger.

  Jim felt recovered from his afternoon with Vanli. He moved away long enough to get a glass of champagne. When he turned back, Winona and Sam were greeting an old Starfleet acquaintance and Jim was alone with Noguchi.

  The older man smiled mischievously. “I’ll be making an announcement shortly, Jim,” he said. “I think you’ll find it interesting.”

  “Admiral, Commodore Pike has informed me that Commander Spock has been given the position of first officer.”

  “That’s right. I approved his promotion myself.”

  “I was under the impression that I’d have some say in my senior staff.”

  “You were out of commission when the choice had to be made. Why? Surely you can’t object to Mr. Spock.”

  “It has nothing to do with Spock, admiral. I’ve nominated Gary Mitchell to the post. I wasn’t aware of any objection to him, either.”

  Noguchi shook his head. “No, Jim. It’s impossible.”

  “Admiral, I was hoping you’d back me up on this.”

  “I could, but I won’t. One of Starfleet’s strengths is its diversity. You and Mitch are simply too much alike. A first officer should compensate for your weaknesses and temper your strengths. I want you to work with someone who will create some synergy.”

  “I wasn’t aware,” Jim said stiffly, “that you feel I have weaknesses that need compensation.”

  [58] “Don’t get your torus pinched, Jim,” Noguchi said. “This is supposed to be a party.”

  “Then I’d like to discuss the subject in a more appropriate setting.”

  “But it isn’t open to discussion,” the admiral said. To underline his meaning, he went in search of a
nother conversation and left Jim fuming.

  I have a couple of months, at least, before Gary’s ready, Jim thought. Maybe by then I can convince the admiral ... He put aside his aggravation, confident that eventually he would change Noguchi’s mind.

  “Ready to give us that tour?” Sam said cheerfully.

  “Sure.” Even the meddling of Starfleet brass could not damage Jim’s joy at seeing his mother and his brother again. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  They went into the ship’s quiet corridors and left the noisy party behind.

  “Jim,” Winona said, “are you really all right?”

  “Of course I am, Mom. Good as new, they say. I wish you wouldn’t worry about me.”

  “Worrying comes with the job.”

  “You never tell us anything, dammit,” Sam said. “How do you think we felt when we found out you’d been in the hospital and hadn’t even told us?”

  “What could you have done? Come back to earth? By the time you arrived, I’d be all right or it’d be too late.”

  “Under what circumstances does your family get notified?” Winona asked. “When you’re dead?”

  “That’s close, Mom. I know how you feel, but nothing else makes sense. I’m sure Dad left the same instructions.”

  “Yes,” Winona said. “He did. But I hoped yours might be different.”

  Jim refrained from saying something he would later regret. He did not want to argue with his mother, even though he felt she had delivered him a low blow.

  “Say, Jim.” Sam’s cheerfulness sounded forced. “The biologists’ grapevine has been working overtime lately.”

  “Oh? What about?”

  “Don’t you know?”

  “Why should I know?”

  [59] “The grapevine carries rumors about other subjects than theoretical biology.”

  “In other words, Carol Marcus and I are hot gossip.”

  “You’ve got it, brother. What’s the story?”

  “There isn’t any story,” Jim said. “And as far as hot gossip goes ... the temperature registers absolute zero.”

  “Oh,” Sam said. “Damn. I hoped ... Carol Marcus is good people, Jim.”

  “We’re getting into dangerous territory.” Jim changed the subject abruptly. “Do you want that tour? There’s a lot to see. The bridge is incredible.” As he described the ship, his concern about Gary and his disappointment about Carol slipped briefly away. He could not have pushed aside his enthusiasm if he had tried. “Mom, Sam, why don’t you write a grant proposal for some deep-space research? You won’t believe the labs on this ship. First I want to show you the observation deck—”

  He led them deeper into the Enterprise and into an ordinary-looking lounge at the back of the saucer section.

  “Watch this!” he said. “Open!”

  The shield drew back from the crystal wall, revealing a 180-degree view of the cavernous volume of Spacedock. A mechanic in a pressure suit sailed past.

  “You’ve got to come out with us sometime and see interstellar space from here!”

  “I’d like that,” Winona said. “Jim ...”

  “Yes, Mom?”

  “I’m going home. The house hasn’t been opened in five years, and ...” She stopped. “Jim, if you can—if you want to—come for a visit ... if you want to come home ...”

  “I ...” He could hardly conceive of returning to the Iowa farm. He had not visited it since the service for his father. The farm held memories, good and bad, that he would no longer be able to keep locked away if he returned. Just to consider going back made him imagine that he smelled hay drying in the sun. He shook his head, trying to be amused at the strength of the memories, but disturbed nonetheless.

  “Wonder if the tree house made it through the last five winters,” Sam said.

  [60] “I’ll try to visit, Mom.” Jim hoped he was telling her the truth. “I don’t know when. It depends on my orders.”

  He closed the shield, hiding the crystal wall and the lights and activity of Spacedock. He wished the Enterprise were sailing among the stars with no barriers and no limits. Out there difficult decisions seemed much easier to make, and the complications of life never doubled and redoubled.

  “Come on,” he said. “You’ve got to see the labs.”

  Sam glanced at him quizzically. “I thought you’d never been on board this ship before today.”

  Jim blushed. “I mean—Oh, hell. I sneaked on board ... Carol and I sneaked on board a few weeks back. Just for a look around. I couldn’t resist. But keep it quiet—it’s bad form.” He left the observation deck and led them to the turbo-lift.

  “Someday, Jim,” Winona said, more concerned than chiding, “you’re going to step out of bounds and somebody is going to notice.”

  “I’d have to run into a real hard-liner to have any trouble over my visit.”

  “Starfleet is well supplied with hard-liners.”

  “You can’t get anywhere in Starfleet unless you push the limits. If you don’t, you end up mummified at a desk.”

  “And if you push them too far,” Sam said, “you end up mummified at a desk. Like Chris Pike.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “That’s the gossip—Pike spent too little time playing Starfleet politics, too much time annoying the wrong people, and struck out on his own a few times too often.”

  “So, as punishment, he gets promoted to commodore?”

  “Yes. And you pity him because of it.” The turbo-lift slowed and stopped.

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Don’t discount your brother’s advice so cavalierly, Jim,” Winona said. “It isn’t nearly as ridiculous as—” The lift doors opened. She interrupted herself. “I don’t remember that Starfleet vessels smell like horse barns.”

  The evocative scent of drying hay wafted through the lower deck. Jim frowned. “They don’t.” Unsettled, he led the way from the turbo-lift. In a starship, anything strange or unknown could mean danger.

  [61] The horse-barn odor grew more intense. Unless the ventilation system had broken down, the only possible source was the shuttlecraft deck at the far end of the corridor.

  The double doors slid aside. Squinting in the dim light, Jim strode onto the catwalk above the deck.

  The shuttlecraft had been moved to one side, crammed close together and walled off with portable partitions, leaving most of the deck space open.

  A makeshift pen stood in the center of the deck. Straw littered its floor. A dark shape hunkered inside it.

  “What in the world—!” Winona joined him on the catwalk.

  “Lights.” The deck lights faded on.

  The iridescent creature snorted and bolted to its feet, spraddle-legged and challenging, its small head up, ears pricked, nostrils flared. Its coat shone in shades of black and purple and green.

  “What off the world is more like it,” Sam said.

  It saw them. It snorted again and stamped the deck, its hooves ringing on the metal plates. More like an eagle than a horse, it screamed.

  And then it arched its neck, reared, and pawed the air.

  With a sound like storm-wind against ancient trees, it spread its great black wings.

  Chapter 3

  JIM, WINONA, AND Sam stared in amazement.

  “Is it just me who’s dreaming this, or are both of you dreaming it too?”

  “That’s fantastic,” Sam said. “I had no idea anyone had gone so far with restructured recombinants! It is Terran, isn’t it? Not an offworld species?”

  “How should I know?” Jim said, irritated. All he wanted to know was how it got onto his ship, and why.

  “I’m afraid it’s going to hurt itself,” Winona said. “I’ll try to calm it down.”

  The creature beat its wings and screamed again.

  “Mom—that thing is dangerous!”

  “What do you people think you’re doing?”

  Jim hardly had time to turn toward the new voice. A small black-clad
figure ran past Winona and plunged headlong down the companion way, barely touching the treads. Her iridescent black hair streamed behind her. She ran across the deck toward the terrified horse—horse? She dropped the boots she carried and slid under the corral rail. Afraid she would be trampled, afraid the creature might even take off and attack her with its hooves, Jim rushed after her.

  The horse snorted and quieted. Its wings still fluttered, outstretched, as if it were an eagle keeping its balance on the gloved hand of a falconer. Its shoulders gleamed with nervous sweat. It put its head down and buried its nose beneath the arm of the stranger.

  She whispered to the creature, scratched its ears and [63] cradled its head and blew in its nostrils. It sighed back, a soft and quiet sound. She stroked its neck and tangled her fingers in its mane. The straw crackled as the creature shifted its weight to sidle closer to her. It placed its hooves only a handsbreadth from her bare feet.

  “For gods’ sakes, be careful,” Jim said.

  “Be quiet,” she said in a low and soothing voice, without turning to face him.

  “You’re going to get stepped on!”

  “No, I’m not, don’t worry. Besides, she’s not even shod—and she’s very light on her feet.” She smiled at her own joke, then sobered again when she saw Jim’s expression. “What did you do? You scared her to death.”

  “I turned on the lights,” Jim said, his irritation increasing. “I wanted to know who rearranged my shuttlecraft deck.”

  “Are you the deck officer? Admiral Noguchi said you were on leave till this evening, and then you’d be busy—he said she’d be safe here, and nobody would bother her.”

  “Admiral Noguchi—?”

  “This is the only place she can stay for a long trip.”

  “What long trip?!” Jim said.

  She fed the creature a piece of carrot, though Jim would have sworn her hands had been empty. “She won’t hurt your deck, especially if you don’t scare her again.”

  “I’m not the deck officer.”

  “Oh. What’s the big deal, then?”