Star Trek: The Children of Kings

by David Stern

“Thank you, sirs.” She saluted Pike and then Number One, spun smartly on her heel, and left the room.

  Pike turned to his first officer. “That was a little harsh, don’t you think?”

  Number One shook her head. “I don’t think so, sir.”

  “Why not?”

  “She hasn’t learned her place yet,” she said, and told the captain about Hardin’s actions on the bridge, when the Klingon fleet had confronted them.

  “She’s young,” Pike said.

  “Exactly.”

  “You don’t think she should be on Galileo ?”

  “No, sir.”

  “So whom would you send? We don’t exactly have a lot of options at this point.”

  “Myself.”

  “You?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’re a little overqualified for a security guard.”

  “It’s not a typical mission, Captain.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “It’s critical I be on Galileo, sir.”

  “And why is that?”

  She took a deep breath. “Permission to speak freely?”

  It was, Pike realized, the first time she’d ever asked him that. “Granted.” He nodded. “Go ahead.”

  “As I see it, the mission has two aspects. Find proof the Orions were behind the attack on Starbase Eighteen, and rescue those hostages Kritos mentioned.”

  “Your point?”

  “The second has to take a backseat to the first.”

  Pike nodded. “Agreed.”

  “Sir, you say that, but it’s my opinion that you’ll try to accomplish both.”

  He smiled. “Of course I will. Is there something wrong with that?”

  “It’s my opinion that you’ll try too hard to accomplish both.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “You are a very capable commanding officer, sir.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Not, however, as capable as you sometimes think.”

  The smile froze on Pike’s face.

  “Forgive me, Captain,” she said hurriedly. “What I mean to say is that you expect the superhuman of yourself. And there are times when you achieve it.”

  “Thank you,” he said stiffly. “I think.”

  “The problem is that sometimes you plan on it happening.”

  “You think that’s what I’m doing now? With the Galileo mission?”

  “It seems like a tall order, sir. Even with the advantage of the cloaking device.”

  He nodded. Maybe Number One had a point. Maybe—

  He flashed, all at once, on an image from the past. A memory. He and Noguchi in the admiral’s office, discussing why Michaela Harrari was the right choice for Enterprise ’s first officer.

  “She’d be good for you, Chris,” Noguchi had said. “For those times you get a little big for your britches. She’ll knock you down a peg or two.”

  Now Pike looked at Number One and had a sudden insight into why, perhaps, when he’d passed on Michaela as his first, Noguchi had recommended her.

  “Point taken,” he said. “Thank you, Number One.”

  “So you’ll speak to Captain Vlasidovich about me joining the mission?”

  “I will think about it,” he said, and part of that thinking involved not just the point she’d raised but also the things they’d talked about previously, the need for her presence to hold the crew together and to follow up on the investigation into who had bugged the ship’s computer and why.

  “Thank you, sir. And, by the way, it is good to have you back.”

  He dismissed her and turned back to the bath.

  The water was cold. He sighed, and reached for the controls to fill it again.

  And heard Michaela’s voice.

  Softie.

  He drained the tub and took a quick sonic shower.

  Kritos peeked out of the shuttlecraft door.

  He looked angry, Spock thought. Frustrated.

  Which would account for all the cursing that had been coming from Galileo over the last few minutes.

  “You,” Kritos snarled, pointing.

  “Me?” Chief Pitcairn asked.

  “No. You.” Kritos pointed at Spock, who was standing alongside the chief. Pitcairn and Spock had been keeping watch for almost an hour now, making sure that no one entered the shuttle. This after helping Hexar ’s former captain carry the main assembly of the cloaking device (which Kritos had bundled up in a tarp Crewman Reilly had brought him from ship’s stores) inside the little ship.

  “May I be of assistance?” the Vulcan asked, stepping forward.

  The Klingon crooked a finger. “Come,” he said, and disappeared back inside the shuttlecraft.

  Spock exchanged a glance with Chief Pitcairn, then followed.

  Inside the entryway, he paused. The interior of the craft was a shambles. There was cable lying everywhere—half of the starboard access panels had been pulled free of the retaining strip along the interior hull wall and now lay strewn about the cabin. The cloaking device itself, he saw, was still hidden underneath the canvas tarp, apparently undisturbed.

  “Might I suggest,” Spock began, “that—”

  “I have a question for you, Vulcan.” Kritos moved closer and lowered his voice so that it was not much more than a whisper. “I have heard it said,” the Klingon hissed, “that Vulcans cannot lie. Is this true?”

  Spock hesitated.

  “Well?”

  This is an interesting ethical dilemma, Spock thought. Clearly, Kritos had called him into the shuttle because he wished to say something to him in private. Logic suggested that he wished to share a confidence regarding the cloaking device, most likely having to do with retrofitting the device to Galileo ’s systems. It would be in the best interests of Starfleet, and the Federation, that he answer Kritos’s question with a lie, that he tell him that Vulcans were incapable of falsehood, and thus lay a firm basis for gaining the Klingon’s trust.

  The dictates of Spock’s conscience, however, required another response altogether. “It is not true,” he said. “Vulcans can indeed lie, though they very rarely do so.”

  Kritos bared his teeth. A smile. “Ha!” he said, so loudly that Spock started. “I knew that! And now I know something else, Vulcan. You may be half-human, but you can be trusted. So, again, I ask for your word.”

  “Regarding the cloaking device, I assume.”

  “Yes. Exactly. You must swear to me that you will not reveal a thing of what you learn here to anyone.”

  “I cannot do that.”

  “What?” Kritos growled.

  “It is likely that there will come a point in time—not today, not tomorrow, perhaps not even for several years in the future—when sharing what knowledge I have of the cloaking device’s operation will save lives.”

  Kritos turned away from him and slammed his fist into the bulkhead in frustration, cursing out loud as he did so. Calling on a Klingon deity, blaming him—or her, the Vulcan supposed—for the current state of affairs. A deity named Druzen. Spock had never heard the name before. Odd. After receiving his assignment as interpreter for the Gorengar negotiations, he had made it his business to familiarize himself with as much of Klingon history, politics, and culture as possible.

  “Everything all right in there?” That was Chief Pitcairn’s voice, coming from outside the craft.

  “Yes,” Spock called back, perhaps prematurely, as the bulkhead where Captain Kritos had punched it now bore the imprint of the Klingon’s fist.

  “Leave,” Kritos said, turning to face him.

  “I would be willing to place a time limit—”

  “Leave!” Kritos said a second time, taking a step forward.

  Spock nodded. “I will be outside, should you require assistance.”

  He stepped outside the craft proper and stood in the hatch a moment, looking out over the shuttlebay floor.

  “Bet you wish you had that phaser with you, hey?” Chief Pitcairn asked under his breath.
>
  Spock was about to reply when he heard Kritos curse and hit the bulkhead again.

  “Druzen?” The chief frowned. “Who’s Druzen?”

  “I am curious as well,” Spock said. “I will try to find out.”

  He stepped back inside the shuttle. Not that he necessarily expected Kritos to tell him anything, but if he could at least keep the Klingon from doing permanent damage to the ship …

  “What?” Kritos growled, spinning around.

  “Who is Druzen?”

  Kritos glared. “That is no concern of yours.”

  “Perhaps not. I am curious, though. I am relatively familiar with the constellation of Klingon deities—”

  “Deity? You think Druzen is a god? Hah!” The Klingon barked out a laugh. “He would no doubt agree with you!”

  Spock frowned. “I am confused.”

  “Druzen is my father,” Kritos growled.

  “You were cursing him earlier.”

  “Yes.”

  “There is conflict between the two of you.”

  “Of course. Is that not the way, between fathers and sons?”

  Spock nodded. “I see your point.”

  “There is respect as well, though. And honor. And duty. Always duty.” He looked at Spock. “You do not know who he is, do you? Druzen?”

  “No.”

  “No. Of course not. You are not Klingon.”

  “He is a person of some importance, I gather.”

  “He is the hero of Dourami. The great war, the battle of Kenj-a-kenj, the planet destroyers, which lasted nearly a dozen years, until the Empire emerged victorious.” Kritos regarded him skeptically. “You have heard of Dourami, have you not?”

  Spock had. It took him a second, though, to remember where. “Yes,” he said. “General K’Zon, in communicating to us—”

  “K’Zon!” Kritos glared. “You have spoken with K’Zon?”

  “Yes. He has taken command of Hexar. ”

  Kritos’s eyes widened. “What?” The Klingon shot to his feet. “They have given that old fool Hexar ?”

  “It appears so.”

  Kritos turned around and hit the bulkhead again.

  “Stop, please,” Spock said hurriedly. “Eventually, you will break either bone or metal.”

  “You do not understand,” Kritos said. “How could you understand? You are not Klingon. To have a father like Druzen—the honor that must be paid—the duties that are required of a son—”

  “My father is of the Vulcan diplomatic service,” Spock said. “He has just been named ambassador to Earth.”

  Kritos regarded him for a moment. “Then perhaps you do understand.” The Klingon sighed and sat down. “The burden is, perhaps, heavy for you as well.”

  “It is,” Spock agreed. He was not always conscious of it, of course, but as Sarek’s son … he had much to live up to.

  “To be the son of the hero of Dourami …” The Klingon leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “It requires service. Sacrifice. I understood that. But this—that they have given K’Zon Hexar …” Kritos shook his head, and fell silent.

  “Excuse me,” Spock said. “Are you saying you gave up Hexar for your father?”

  “Yes.”

  “I do not understand.”

  Kritos looked up. “My father was kidnapped. It was incumbent on me to rescue him. When those in power would not undertake the necessary steps …” Spock took a second to put the pieces together.

  “That’s why you stole Black Snow.”

  “Yes. To hunt down Karkon’s Wing. ”

  Spock’s eyes widened.

  “Druzen was at Starbase Eighteen when the Orions attacked. He is part of Project Kronos.” The Klingon captain got to his feet. “He is the hostage we must rescue.”

  Pike returned to the shuttlebay in time to see Spock step off Galileo. “All set in there?” the captain asked.

  “Yes, sir. The cloaking device is operational.”

  “Good,” Pike said, glad to see that Kritos had decided to accept help after all. From someone qualified. The captain had been afraid he would end up helping to install Black Snow himself. Or trying to, anyway. That would have been a lengthy process.

  “Sir?”

  He turned and saw Number One coming through the bay doors, followed by Dmitri, Lieutenant Hardin, and two security personnel—Mears and Staton again, he thought, although maybe he was wrong; maybe one of them actually was McLaughlin.

  “What’s this?” Pike asked, gesturing toward Hardin and her squad.

  “My idea,” Dmitri said. “You will need much manpower, Christopher. Or womanpower, as case may be.”

  Pike shook his head. “I don’t think—”

  “I was trying to tell the captain,” Number One said, meaning, no doubt, Dmitri.

  Pike heard the shuttle door slide open again and turned just in time to see Kritos jump down to the bay deck, with a smile on his face.

  “Ah, Pike. You have taken your shower.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Then the three of us are ready to go?”

  “Almost,” Pike replied without thinking. “I just have to …” His voice trailed off. “Wait a second,” he said to Kritos. “The three of us?”

  “I have decided the Vulcan will be our companion.” Kritos put his arm around Spock’s shoulder.

  The science officer stiffened. Pike almost smiled at the expression on Spock’s face, but he didn’t, because he knew how uncomfortable the Vulcan had to be at that second. Physical contact with a stranger—with anyone, for that matter—was not something Spock enjoyed.

  “I am honored,” Spock managed.

  “I thought we decided that I would choose who was going to make the trip,” Pike said.

  “Yes. And you said you would consult with me. So, here is my consultation. Your science officer, yes? Does this not show how much I trust you, letting your most experienced computer person view Black Snow?”

  Pike frowned. It did at that. But …

  “Interesting,” Dmitri said. “I believe the captain’s point is well taken.”

  “Sir,” Number One said, looking distinctly unhappy.

  “So. We have brains. Now we will need brawn,” Kritos said. “Your strongest warrior.”

  “I’m security chief.” Hardin stepped forward.

  Kritos looked her over and shook his head. “No. Not because you are a woman but because you are skinny. Scrawny. Like a twig.” He squeezed her upper arm with his hand.

  “Skinny,” Hardin said. “Absolutely. But.” She reared back then, and before Pike or anyone else could get a word out, she clocked Kritos right in the jaw.

  The Klingon staggered backward and sat down hard on the shuttle deck.

  Hardin stood over him and smiled. “Strong enough for you?” she said.

  Kritos got to his feet, rubbing his jaw. “No,” he said, and backhanded Hardin across the face. It looked to Pike like a little love tap.

  Hardin’s turn to fall backward and land on her bottom.

  “Strong enough for the Orions, though,” Kritos said. “You will do.”

  He helped Hardin—who, Pike saw, was actually smiling—to her feet. It looked to him as if Ben Tuval might have been right about Hardin.

  “Captain.” His first officer was standing directly behind him. She did not look happy.

  “I’m sorry,” was all Pike could think to say. “This isn’t exactly how I wanted things to go.”

  “Then change them,” she said.

  He shook his head.

  “Kritos wants Spock,” Pike said. “And I can’t take both of you from Captain Vlasidovich. Not considering everything we talked about.”

  She opened her mouth to protest again, then saw the look on Pike’s face and shut it. “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank you.”

  Spock and Hardin went off to gather belongings and equipment. Engineering personnel did a final systems check on Galileo from the outside, assisted by Kritos inside the craft. It d
id not go smoothly, until Spock returned and moved things along.

  Then they loaded up—possessions, supplies, weapons, a spare fuel pack—and the senior crew gathered around to say good-bye. Pike shook hands with as many people as he could and got another bear hug from Chief Pitcairn, a teary-eyed handshake from Yeoman Colt, and a message on his tricorder from Michaela that he immediately erased. The other three boarded the craft then, and he found himself alone with Dmitri.

  “Three days,” Vlasidovich said. “I give you three days to find Orion vessel, return with proof of this attack. After that, I am talking to Noguchi.”

  “Three days,” Pike said. “That sounds fair.”

  Especially considering that it wouldn’t take them much more than one of those days to find Karkon’s Wing. Considering the advantage they had already.

  “Not one minute more, mind you.” Dmitri wagged a finger. “That is three days until you arrive back here. I will not accept message from space saying you have accomplished mission. I must see you with my own eyes.”

  “Understood.”

  “It is killing me, you know.” Dmitri leaned forward. “Here we have cloaking device in our hands, and we have to—”

  “Don’t.” Pike shook his head. “I gave my word.”

  “Yes. You are honorable man, Christopher Pike.” He smiled. “Reminds me of story from Nova Vestroia my father used to tell me. A man who—”

  “Please. No Nova Vestroia stories right now.”

  “Very well. Good-bye, Captain. And good luck.”

  “Same to you. Take care of my ship.”

  “Your ship?” Dmitri smiled. “We will see about that.”

  “Ha-ha,” Pike said, certain his friend was kidding. Pretty certain, anyway.

  He jumped up into the hatch, turned, and gave Dmitri and everybody watching from the observation deck a final salute. Then he stepped into the shuttle.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  A Klingon.”

  Hoto eyed him quizzically. “You are certain of this?”

  “You think I hallucinated it?”

  “You did work an extremely long day, sir.”

  She was sitting up in her bed, drinking a cup of tea. Boyce was drinking one, too—sipping at it, anyway. After that coffee Deleen had brought him, well, the tea didn’t quite measure up.

  “He’s there. I’ll take you to him if you like.”