Star Trek: The Children of Kings

by David Stern

  Kritos looked unhappy.

  “Yes. I was thinking Galileo, ” Pike said, gesturing toward the shuttle, which sat at the far end of the bay.

  “Oh, I get it,” Pitcairn said. “We install the cloaking device on that.”

  Pike nodded once more.

  Kritos, if such a thing was possible, looked even unhappier.

  In that instant, Spock saw his problem as well. Stealing the Empire’s most closely held technology was one thing. Turning it over to Starfleet engineers was quite another.

  The first was theft. The second, treason.

  TWENTY-THREE

  There wasn’t, strictly speaking, water rationing aboard Enterprise . The ship had state-of-the-art recycling systems designed to conserve every molecule of H 2 O the crew consumed (and excreted). But old habits died hard. Personal habits developed in less eco-friendly planetary environments or inculcated aboard older starships, where every drop was precious. All of which was to say that ship’s personnel—when they took old-fashioned liquid, as opposed to sonic, showers—kept them down to about a minute. Half the cabins on Deck 2 didn’t even have shower stalls. The original ship’s design had envisioned communal bathrooms, which were scrapped halfway through in favor of individual WCs but too late for stalls and plumbing on the starboard side. So showers were a luxury for some, arrangements for which had to be made in advance. Time was very limited there.

  When Kritos held firm to his idea of installing the cloaking device on his own—with no one, not even Pike, allowed to assist, much less watch—the captain decided to use the downtime to take a shower. He didn’t want to boot Dmitri out of the commanding officer’s quarters—not yet, at least—so he arranged to use one of the VIP suites on the officers’ deck.

  It was only when he walked into the room that he remembered that not only did the suite, despite being on the starboard side of the ship, have a shower all its own … it had a bathtub.

  “Oh,” Pike said.

  A bath. When was the last time he’d had a bath? Not in his thirties, he was pretty sure about that. And in his twenties … he hadn’t gotten in all that many showers, even then.

  He looked down. There was grime and gagh caked into the hair on his arms. He scratched his head and felt his scalp flake off in his fingernails. He stank like the inside of a Denobulan bloodworm cage.

  A bath. It would be decadent. Wasteful. Unnecessary.

  He ran the water.

  He called ship’s stores for a clean uniform and then peeled off the coverall Kritos had lent him. He dropped it onto the floor and put one foot in the tub. Then the other.

  Ah. This was going to feel—

  The comm sounded. Someone at the door. Hell.

  “Who is it?”

  “Dmitri. I must speak with you.”

  “Come back in ten minutes.”

  “Ten minutes? No. I must speak with you now.”

  Pike sighed and slipped a towel around his waist. “Come,” he said, walking toward the door.

  It opened, and Dmitri walked in.

  Michaela was a step behind him. “Chris,” she said.

  “Hey,” he said, turning to Dmitri. “I thought we talked about this. No one else—”

  “What are you doing?” Dmitri asked, looking over his shoulder. “You are taking bath?”

  “Yes.”

  Dmitri shook his head. “Wasteful.”

  “Decadent,” Michaela said. “Turning into a softie in your old age?”

  “I’m not that old. And I am not a softie. I just spent a week in a Klingon courier ship. With a Klingon.”

  “So I understand,” she said. “A Klingon, a Klingon courier, and the cloaking device.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Learn anything interesting?”

  “If you’re asking about the device …”

  “I am.”

  “The answer is no.”

  “You wouldn’t tell me if you had, would you? You probably made a promise to that Klingon. Didn’t you?”

  “I did.”

  “Which you would keep even if Admiral Noguchi himself gave orders to the contrary.”

  “That’s a hypothetical.” He smiled back at her. “I don’t like to deal in hypotheticals.”

  “I remember.”

  The two of them stared at each other.

  “You look good, by the way,” Pike said.

  She smiled. “Thank you. You look dirty.”

  He nodded. “Hence the bath.”

  Looking at Michaela, Pike was reminded of the conversation he’d had with Admiral Noguchi, right after he’d agreed to take Enterprise . The admiral had offered him Michaela as his first officer, thought that the two of them might work very well together. Play to each other’s strengths, he had suggested. Pike had thought about it for all of two seconds before demurring. “We were together at the Academy, sir. She was top of the class, I was at the bottom. There might be a little sense of competition there, so … no.” Noguchi had nodded, and the conversation had moved on.

  Of course, competition had nothing to do with it. Well, maybe not nothing, but that was only a tiny part of the reason he hadn’t wanted Michaela aboard Enterprise . Given their history, her presence would be distracting. A constant reminder of—

  “What?” she asked.

  Pike became aware that he was staring. “Nothing,” he said. Definitely, he was better off with Number One. And speaking of Number One …

  There were a few things he needed to talk to his first officer about. In private. Word of his survival was going to spread throughout the ship pretty quickly, and people were going to start looking at Dmitri as nothing more than a stand-in. Number One was going to have to put the hammer down, make sure the crew knew that as long as Dmitri sat in the captain’s chair, he was the boss. No ifs, ands, or buts.

  “So that’s what you came here to talk about? The cloaking device?” He looked from Michaela to Dmitri and, all at once, understood the reason for her presence. “I get it. You wanted her here to gang up on me so I would—”

  “No, no. Chris, you are being—what is word?—paranoid,” Dmitri said.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really,” Michaela said.

  “Okay. So why are you here, then?”

  “We wish to discuss the Orions,” Dmitri said.

  “The Orions?” Pike frowned. “What about the Orions?”

  “About an hour ago, I received a rather interesting communiqué from one of them,” Michaela said. “An offer of sorts.”

  “An offer?”

  “Of alliance.”

  “Which Orions are we talking about?” Pike asked. “Not the ones who attacked Starbase Eighteen, obviously.”

  “Obviously,” Dmitri said. “These were—what was name of clan, Michaela?”

  “Singhino,” she said. “The message was from the clan leader.”

  Pike recognized the name. Gurgis’s clan. They’d been involved in the fighting aboard Karkon’s Wing ; at the heart of it, in fact, if he’d correctly interpreted the chatter he and Kritos had overheard while trailing Liyan’s vessel.

  “They wished weapons delivery,” Dmitri said. “Arms to help overthrow dictatorship, they say. Is this right, Michaela?”

  “Yes. Arms to defeat the tallith, in exchange for which they would grant us unfettered access to her technology.”

  “Her technology.”

  “Very advanced, they say.”

  “I don’t doubt it. It’s probably what they used to simulate the attack on Starbase Eighteen.”

  “Most assuredly,” Dmitri said.

  “So where do you think they got this technology from?” Michaela asked.

  “I have no idea,” Pike said.

  “Did Kritos?”

  “Not that he let on.”

  He told them then what he knew, what he had found out, from the Klingon about that technology. They talked then about the possibility—the wisdom—of any kind of alliance with a faction of the Orion Confeder
acy. The trustworthiness of the Singhino, as opposed to the Codruta. As opposed to the Syndicate, or the pirates, or the Caju. Of course, they couldn’t make any decisions without talking to higher-ups, but being prepared to make those kinds of decisions quickly and decisively was what command was all about.

  And then the talk wound down, and Pike was looking at Michaela and was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was wearing nothing but a towel.

  “I must return to shuttlebay. Check on progress Klingon has made transferring cloaking device to Galileo, ” Dmitri said.

  “I’ll be along shortly,” Pike said.

  “After your bath,” Dmitri said.

  “Yes. After my bath.”

  “Softie,” Michaela said. She glanced over Pike’s shoulder at the bath. She looked back up at him.

  Pike was about to suggest that she didn’t need to rush when the door comm sounded.

  “Come,” Pike called out, and Yeoman Colt walked into the room, carrying the uniform he’d requested. And a couple of extra towels.

  “Captain,” she said, smiling. “I brought the uniform and some extra towels, and I thought you might like …”

  Colt’s voice trailed off as she noticed Dmitri and Michaela.

  “Captain,” she said to Dmitri, snapping to attention. “Sir,” she said to Michaela. “I mean, Captain.”

  “Yeoman,” Dmitri said.

  “Yeoman?” Michaela looked at Pike and smiled. “Interesting. A female yeoman.”

  Colt flushed. Pike felt himself flushing, too. He didn’t know why. Colt had been the computer’s suggestion, not his. He had nothing to be embarrassed about. Nor did she.

  “Thank you,” he said to Colt. “You can set those things down on the counter over there.”

  “Yes, sir. Captain.” She did as told. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do, sir.”

  “Absolutely,” Pike said. “Dismissed.”

  “Yes, sir. I just want to say, I’m glad—I mean, it’s good to have you back, Captain.” She smiled at Pike, then looked at Dmitri, and her eyes widened. “I mean—I enjoyed serving under you, too, as well, Captain, but—”

  “You’re still serving under Captain Vlasidovich, Yeoman,” Pike said.

  Colt frowned. “You’re giving up Enterprise, sir?”

  “No, I’m not giving up Enterprise, ” Pike snapped. “I am returning to the Orion ship, though, and so for the moment—”

  “Yes, sir, I understand,” she said. “You don’t need to explain anything to me.”

  “Of course I don’t,” Pike snapped. “I just—” He took a deep breath. This was ridiculous. “Thank you again, Yeoman.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  Colt backed out the door and was gone.

  “A female yeoman,” Michaela said.

  “It is most unusual,” Dmitri said.

  “Not really,” Pike said. “Captain April—”

  Michaela actually snorted. “Don’t talk to me about Robert April. Please.”

  Pike opened his mouth—and shut it. He was not getting into that argument again.

  “I am returning to shuttlebay,” Dmitri said. “Michaela?”

  “Coming. I need to get back to my ship.”

  “Christopher, I will see you there presently,” Dmitri said to Pike, and turned for the door.

  “Chris.” Michaela nodded and started after him.

  “Michaela,” Pike said.

  She turned at the door and smiled over her shoulder. “Softie,” she said, and before Pike could respond, she was gone.

  He stood there a moment, towel wrapped around his waist, and sighed.

  Michaela Harrari.

  It was a small universe. And getting smaller every day.

  He turned back to the tub. Slipped the towel off, and dipped a toe again. Ice-cold. He drained a little water out of the tub and filled it again.

  He stuck his toe in. Too hot. Added a little more cold. Perfect.

  The comm sounded.

  “I’m busy,” he called over his shoulder. “Come back in ten minutes.”

  “Yes, sir.” It was Number One.

  He sighed. “Hold on a second,” he said, and slipped his towel back on. He took a step toward the door and stopped himself. No. If he wanted to talk ship’s business, he should be in uniform. Or the closest he had to it at the moment.

  He slid back into the Klingon coverall, shuddering in disgust. Yech. He felt as if he’d just put on another layer of dirt. And the odor …

  “Captain? It’s really no problem for me to come back later, so—”

  “No, no. One second.”

  He walked to the door, and it opened. Number One, standing in the hallway, came to immediate attention.

  “At ease, Commander. Come on in.”

  She did. “You’re taking a bath.”

  “I’m about to.”

  “Forgive me, sir. I expected you would have finished by now.”

  “Yes. Me, too.”

  “Sir?”

  “Never mind. I’m glad you’re here. There are a couple of things I wanted to talk to you about.”

  He shared with her briefly his concern about Dmitri’s effectiveness over the next few days. The importance of her being front-and-center with the crew, visibly stressing the need to obey Captain Vlasidovich’s commands to the letter.

  “Understood, sir,” she said when he had finished.

  “Thank you. I appreciate—” He stopped talking because he felt something tickling the hairs on his arm.

  He looked down and saw a bug. Disk-shaped, green-and-black-striped, three-legged. It was crawling on his arm. He slapped it away.

  It made a little buzzing sound and flew off toward one of the ventilation ducts. He stared after it, frowning. He’d never seen anything like that before. He suddenly realized that of course, he hadn’t, it was a Klingon bug, which meant that there were probably more of them inside the coverall. An infestation.

  He had a sudden, nearly irrepressible urge to rip the coverall off and dive into the bath.

  “Okay, Number One,” he said. “That’ll be all.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said. It was her cue to leave. She didn’t take it.

  “Was there something else?” Pike asked.

  “Yes, sir. The reason I came?”

  Pike almost slapped himself in the forehead. “Right. Of course. Go on.” Quickly, please, he added to himself.

  “Yes, sir. In brief, I have found evidence to corroborate Chief Pitcairn’s accusation.”

  “Chief Pitcairn’s accusation?”

  “The feedback circuit on the computer system.”

  Pike instantly snapped to attention. “Someone was bugging the ship.”

  “Yes, sir. I was able to find evidence of several data streams having been rerouted to a holding buffer within the system. Someone then accessed that buffer—representing terminal input, communications activity—from a remote location.”

  “Any idea who? No, of course not. You would have told me if you knew.”

  “Of course.” Number One nodded. “What I have been able to determine is that whoever did this was a highly accomplished—”

  The comm sounded. Someone at the door. Again. Pike rolled his eyes. Ridiculous. What was this, Starbase 1?

  “Hang on a second,” he said to Number One. “Come!” he shouted toward the door, which then opened.

  Lieutenant Hardin walked in. “Sir!” she said, saluting.

  She caught sight of Number One and saluted again. “Sir.”

  “At ease, Lieutenant,” Pike said.

  “I’m interrupting,” she said.

  “Yes,” Pike said. My bath, he thought. “But you’re here, so tell me what it is you need to talk to me about.”

  “Yes, sir. Assignment aboard Galileo. ”

  “Galileo?”

  “You’ll need a security detail, and I want to be part of it.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  H
e nodded, looking Hardin over, trying to remember what he could from her personnel file. Lieutenant Amoreena Hardin. Five years out of the Academy, first two years serving at Starfleet Headquarters, general security, two years aboard the Katyn, commendations for bravery, a year serving with the Federation ambassador to Andoria. Or was that Gandor? He couldn’t remember. What he did recall was Ben Tuval singing her praises. “Kid’s got the right stuff,” Ben had said.

  Well, Pike would see about that.

  He narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t about revenge, is it?”

  “Yes, sir. Of course it is.” The corners of Hardin’s mouth turned up, just a little bit, for a quick second. It was a smile—there one moment, gone the next.

  Pike had to smile, too.

  “That, sir, and a little bit of professional pride. The Orions are pretty satisfied with themselves right now, I bet, thinking they put one over on a Starfleet security team. I’d like to show them what we’re capable of.”

  “Say you were given this assignment, Lieutenant,” Number One said, stepping forward. “What would your number one priority be?”

  “Protecting the captain.”

  “At what cost?”

  “Excuse me?” Hardin asked.

  “At what cost?” Number One said. “What would make you give up on that assignment?”

  Hardin looked confused. So did Pike. He didn’t quite see what his first officer was driving at.

  “What would make me abandon the assignment?” Hardin asked. “Nothing.”

  “So you’d sacrifice what? The shuttle? Your own life?”

  “Yes. Both of them. Absolutely.”

  “Like Commander Tuval did.”

  “Yes.”

  “Like Collins and Smith and Ross did.”

  “Yes. I didn’t—”

  “Professional pride,” Number One said. “Those members of your detail—the commander of your squad—they had it in spades. And for you to imply anything other than that, for you to imply that what happened was in any way related to their performance as officers, is disrespectful to their memory, Lieutenant. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said.

  “Good.”

  Pike stepped forward between the two of them. Bad blood there. He wondered why. “I’ll consider your request, Lieutenant,” he said. “Dismissed.”