Sand and Stars

by Diane Duane

  He’d inherited his looks from his mother, but the rest of the Kirk legacy that sometimes sat too heavily on his shoulders came straight from Uncle Jim. Staring at the cadet’s uniform he was holding, Peter wondered if that was why, at the age of thirty-two, he was still in school.

  Peter Kirk hadn’t decided on a career in Starfleet until he was in his mid-twenties—almost a decade after most cadets entered the Academy. He’d spent that decade attending the best colleges, gaining degrees in xenolinguistics and xenocultural interfaces with minors in Terran/xenopolitical interaction, before deciding that he would finally follow the family tradition and join Starfleet. While Uncle Jim had always encouraged his varied interests, and never tried to influence his choice of careers, everyone else had automatically assumed he’d pursue Command track. He’d done so, though Peter was sure that he’d never possess his uncle’s calm air of command.

  We’ll find out soon enough if you’re arealKirk, Peter told himself mockingly. After all the degrees, all the varied quests for knowledge, and these last few years in Starfleet Academy, Peter was, at last, in the final stretch. The past two weeks had been one grueling exam after another—most of which he’d aced.Just like a real Kirk. He’d had one just this morning, and that, too, he’d completed successfully.

  Now there were only two more to go. One tomorrow, and the last a week from Friday. Then, three days after that, the final. The big one. TheKobayashi Maru.

  He realized he was crushing the clean uniform in his hands and put it back. Why did he have to think about that now?

  Because you can’t ignore it anymore, it’s just a few days away. They’ve completely reprogrammed the simulation. There’s a whole new situation, a whole new setup—and nobody knows anything about it. But that hasn’t stopped them from taking bets as to whether or not you’ll be the second Kirk to beat the no-win scenario.He rubbed his face tiredly. He had to stop worrying about it. It was just another test. Wasn’t it?

  The odds are twenty to oneagainstyou. Just being a Kirk isn’t any guarantee of success, mister.

  He shook his head, trying to shed his pessimistic musings.

  The chrono chimed softly, yanking him back to his immediate problem. He had to get ready for lunch. He was meeting Surev, a young Vulcan he’d befriended while researching Sarek’s work. Surev had invited him to have a meal at the Vulcan consulate because Sarek might be there, having arrived yesterday. Surev was distantly related to Sarek’s aide, and while he was careful not to make a commitment, the young Vulcan thought he might be able to arrange an introduction. Peter was really looking forward to shaking hands (or rather, offering the Vulcan salute) to the diplomat he so admired. Lunch at the Vulcan consulate would provide a welcome respite from the drudgery of studying and finals. Maybe, for just an hour, he could forget about that damnedKobayashi Maru.

  That’s what you need to do, just forget about it,Peter decided. Forget about the Academy, Uncle Jim, ancient history, the whole thing. Reaching into his closet, he grabbed a stylish suit, a piece of “civilian” garb he hadn’t worn in months. He wanted to seem totally professional in case he was introduced to Sarek. Peter wasn’t normally self-conscious about being an older cadet, but today he didn’t want to risk being prejudged. He didn’t want to be Peter Kirk, Jim Kirk’s nephew who’s only now graduating Starfleet Academy. He just wanted to be another Terran who could discuss some of Sarek’s ideas with him knowledgeably.

  Donning the suit quickly, he smiled. The colors made his eyes bluer.Hey, who knows? he thought wryly.You can meet a lot of interesting people at the Vulcan consulate. I’ve seen some really nice-looking female attachés going in and out…. Of course, that was an area where he and Uncle Jim differed. Unlike the elder Kirk, Peter’s luck with women was less than fabulous.Maybe that’s something that comes with age.

  As he adjusted the suit so that it hung right, then quickly combed his hair, he turned on the vid link to catch a glimpse of the news. Sarek might be featured on the noon report. Instructing the link to search for any reports about Vulcans, Peter tensed when the headlineEMBASSY PROTEST flashed on the link.

  As Peter watched, images of San Francisco’s Vulcan consulate—his current destination—filled the screen.

  “The Vulcan presence on Earth,” a fair-haired, attractive female reporter said solemnly, “has rarely generated controversy, but the peace that normally surrounds this quiet enclave was shattered today as the Keep Earth Human League announced their intentions to surround the consulate day and night.”

  Peter stood transfixed as the view of the front entrance of the stately domed building came on-screen. A group of humans were clustered before the elegant gates, at least three dozen men and women, more than a few holding small children. Some carried traditional placards mounted on poles, while the rest brandished the more common holosigns. The image focused on one nondescript bearded man who had a holosign hovering over him that read,EARTH BELONGS TO HUMANS—LET’S KEEP IT THAT WAY ! Another sign came into view that said,JOIN THE KEEP EARTH HUMAN LEAGUE TODAY!—SAVE EARTH FOR YOUR CHILDREN !

  Peter stared in consternation, although this wasn’t the first time he’d heard of the KEHL. But he’d had no idea that this fringe-element movement had been able to lure in enough members to mount such a large demonstration.

  The reporter approached an attractive young woman in a shiny silver coat whose holosign read,VULCANS THINK THEY’RE SO SMART—AREN’T YOU SICK OF BEING PATRONIZED ? Beside her stood a young boy with a hand-lettered sandwich board that simply demanded,VULCANS GO HOME !

  “Excuse me, Lisa Tennant,” the reporter asked the woman respectfully. “You’re one of the leaders of the San Francisco branch of KEHL. Tell our viewers why your organization is staging this vigil in front of the Vulcan consulate.”

  “Members of the Keep Earth Human League are Terrans who have finally come to their senses,” the woman told the journalist earnestly. She was of medium height, a little stocky, with dark skin and big black eyes. Her features were chiseled and delicate, except for a rather square chin, and she moved with confidence, as though she knew exactly what she was doing in life and how to go about it.

  “Our president, Induna,” the demonstrator continued, “has called for a show of our support, so we have assembled.” She indicated a tall, very dark-skinned man, probably African, who was standing near the consulate gates, lecturing to the crowd. “Vulcans are trying to take over our Federation, and make humans into second-class citizens,” Tennant continued. “We won’t stand for it any longer!”

  “But, Ms. Tennant,” the journalist continued reasonably, “most Terrans consider Vulcans our loyal friends, our closest allies. Many of Earth’s politicians have been quoted as saying that weneed them, that they’re the most civilized people in the galaxy.”

  “I doubt seriously,” the woman retorted coolly, “that we need friends the likes of Lieutenant Valeris. It’s clear to us that she was the ringleader of the terrible plot against Earth, that she was working for the renegade Klingon general, Chang.”

  Peter shook his head. The Romulan ambassador, Nanclus, and the two Starfleet officers, Admiral Cartwright and Colonel West, had also conspired with General Chang to assassinate the Klingon chancellor, Gorkon. Uncle Jim and his medical officer, Leonard McCoy, had been falsely accused and convicted of the crime, then sentenced to hard labor on the prison planet, Rura Penthe. It was strange, Peter thought, that, although the crime had only happened a month or so ago, the public’s memory of those events appeared to be altering. Lately, even the media had a tendency to downplay the roles played by the humans and the Romulan, making it seem that General Chang and Lieutenant Valeris were solely responsible.

  “Lieutenant Valeris,” the KEHL leader continued, “is merely anexample of the kind of subtle espionage Vulcans have been guilty of for years. But now the KEHL is on to them. There are chapters of the KEHL springing up all over—even on some of the Terran colonies. And we know exactly what we’re dealing with!”

  �
��What do you mean?” the journalist pressed.

  “Everyone knows,” Tennant elaborated, “that Vulcans are telepaths. Lately, it’s becoming increasingly obvious that they’re using their abilities to influence minds, and make susceptible humans do things against their own kind! Those politicians that are so quick to defend Vulcans are, no doubt, their unwitting victims. After all, everyone knows how easy it is to influence a politician’s mind!”

  Hard to argue with that,Peter admitted grudgingly. But the notion that Vulcans would use their telepathy in such as unethical way outraged him.

  “The Keep Earth Human League is gaining new members every day,” Tennant told the reporter smugly. “We are funding our own candidates to run in local elections, people who are not so easily influenced. It’s only a matter of time before the Vulcan conspiracy is completely exposed. Our vigil here is to let them knowtheir days on Earth are numbered!”

  The woman’s self-assurance shocked Peter. She didn’t have that wild-eyed look of lunacy he usually associated with the off-kilter KEHL.

  An old woman suddenly stepped in front of the reporter, demanding the journalist’s attention. “Vulcans are the spawn of the devil,” she hissed viciously. “Satan marked ’em as his own, anyone can see that. Don’t you have eyes, woman?”

  Now,thathad to be a founding member, Peter thought. He realized his jaw ached from clenching his teeth. Didn’t these people realize how crazy they sounded? What was wrong with them?

  The crowd rallied around the Tennant woman. “Keep Earth Hu-man! Keep Earth Hu-man!” they chanted. Angrily, Peter slapped the vid off switch. Why did those nuts have to picket the consulatetoday, when Sarek would be there? Good thing the Federation provided security to all off-world embassies and consulates. He felt confident that Security had the situation well under control. Yet, even though the vid link was now silent, Peter imagined that he could still hear that hate-filled mantra.

  As the cadet left his room to head for the consulate, he found himself mulling over the news report. The KEHL had been around for centuries, ever since Zefram Cochrane invented the warp drive, and humans made it into space and met the Vulcans for the first time. It was nothing more than a small group of hard-line xenophobes. But lately, the KEHL was another story altogether. He wondered if Starfleet Security was mounting an investigation of their recent activities. If the KEHL kept garnering members and publicity at the same rate in the coming months, they could turn out to be a real problem.

  Peter moved quickly out of his apartment and onto the streets that surrounded the Academy. If he hustled, he could still arrive in time to meet Surev.

  As young Kirk turned the corner to approach the familiar consulate, he was shocked to find that the crowd of protesters he’d watched on the noon report had grown even larger. While some of the people massing around the curving, neutral-colored compound must have been simply curious onlookers, there were now so many holosigns that the floating messages were blending all together into a huge mass of gibberish.

  Peter slowed as he neared the gates, watching the Starfleet Security forces as they worked to keep the crowd from getting too close to the entrance. Was the mob actually going to rush the gates? Near the sculptured metal portal Peter spied Surev, but the Vulcan wasn’t looking toward him, so he didn’t bother to wave. Surev’s attention was turned in the opposite direction, and Peter peered to see what he was looking at. He squinted. Was that…could that possibly be…Sarekhimself?

  Peter realized it was the ambassador himself standing safely behind the gates, with his aide, Soran. Surevhad arranged it! He was actually about to meet Sarek!

  As Peter tried to skirt the fringes of the throng, a tall figure pushed his way through the opening crowd. Peter recognized the president of the KEHL.

  Now Sarek and the KEHL president were face-to-face. Starfleet Security drew closer to the crowd. Shouts filled the air.

  “GO BACK TO VULCAN! STOP SELLING OUT EARTH FOR VULCAN INTERESTS!” three KEHL members shouted in unison.

  “Back to Vulcan! Back to Vulcan!” the crowd chanted, surging forward threateningly.

  Sarek was the picture of composure as he stood straight and tall in his Vulcan robes, his face the epitome of Vulcan control. Both Surev and Soran were young men, and their control was not nearly as perfect as the elder Vulcan’s. Even from this distance, Peter could see the two younger Vulcans conferring with each other behind the ambassador’s back, concern plain to read on their faces. Sarek merely nodded serenely. Then, to Peter’s dismay, the ambassador opened the gate and calmly strode out into the crowd.

  Dimly, he heard the KEHL leader telling the crowd to quiet down, but it was no use. A minute later, the mob completely broke ranks. They surged forward wildly, screaming, throwing things, overwhelming the outnumbered security forces. Within seconds the protesters had completely enveloped both Sarek and the two younger Vulcans.

  “NO!” Peter shouted frantically, and flung himself unheedingly into the thick of the mob. Furious and sickened, he charged his way bodily through the crowd, shoving, pushing, not caring whether he crushed feet, or sent the bigots staggering. He had to do something to help Ambassador Sarek!

  For a brief instant he found himself tantalizingly close to his goal. He glimpsed the ambassador’s formal brown and gold robes only a meter or two away. By now the crowd was in a frenzy, hurling refuse and rotting vegetables at the beleaguered Vulcans. As a man beside Peter took aim with a fist-sized rock, the young Kirk managed to surge forward and knock his arm so that the rock landed on another KEHL member instead. Sarek’s young assistants were defending themselves ably, and even the ambassador sent an attacker flying.

  Almost at the same instant, Peter heard the whine of transporter beams, and knew that the Federation security forces must have beamed in reinforcements. The officers were busily using crowd-control stunners and forcefields, careful not to catch the struggling Vulcans in the beams.

  Suddenly, Peter saw Sarek grappling with the KEHL president. To the young Kirk’s relief, the Vulcan handled the tall human easily, rendering him helpless with a quick neck pinch. For just a second, Peter thought he saw a flicker of surprise pass over the ambassador’s normally calm expression; then both attacker and Vulcan were lost to sight in the press of the crowd.

  Three KEHL members next to Peter suddenly collapsed, unconscious, and the cadet realized that he might be next. He was wearing civilian clothes instead of his uniform, so there was no way anyone could differentiate him from these lunatics! In fact, there was a very good chance he was about to be arrested, if not stunned, mistaken for a KEHL member. He searched for Surev, desperately wanting to get his attention. The Vulcan could vouch for him….

  Out of the corner of his eye he spied a security officer taking dead aim at him.

  “Hurry! Come with me,now!” a female voice shouted in his ear, at the same time a strong hand grasped his suit sleeve and hauled him back. Two people in front of him collapsed in the path of the stun ray. “We’ve got to go now!” the woman insisted, tugging at him and another woman near her.

  He then recognized Lisa Tennant, the KEHL’s second-in-command. “Come on!” she urged, pulling him behind her. “We can’t let them get all of us! Let’s go. Follow me!”

  Did this lunatic woman thinkhe was part of her nutcase organization? Peter was infuriated by her assumption. Then four people directly in front of him collapsed under the minimized stun rays. If she hadn’t pulled him out of the way…

  The security forces weren’t asking questions, they were assuming the same thing about everyone in this crowd that she was. If he didn’t get out of here, lunch wouldn’t be the only thing he’d be missing. The next time Tennant yanked on his arm, he cooperated.

  After a moment’s pushing and shoving, they broke free. Peter found himself running pell-mell down the streets, away from the screaming, hysterical demonstrators. Had Sarek made it through all right? he wondered, even as his legs moved automatically, running, running, as he followed the wom
an to safety.

  They were on a side street now, Federation Security aircars following them, trying to round up all the demonstrators. The cadet realized that if he didn’t get out of this quickly, he was going to be spending the night in jail. He might even have to contact his Uncle Jim for a character reference! What would that look like—Captain Kirk’s nephew incarcerated for supporting a violent KEHL demonstration? Envisioning his own face on the next news vid, he sprinted faster.

  Tennant led her small crowd down a narrow street, then into an alley. There was a door, which opened as if by magic as they approached. The small group raced in, Peter entering right behind the dark-haired woman. When the door slid shut behind them, the group half-collapsed, heaving and panting for breath. Peter tensed as he listened to the sirens of the aircars that were still searching—searching for me,Peter realized disgustedly. What a mess!

  “Everybody okay?” Tennant asked the group. “Anyone hurt?”

  There were murmurs from the group of a half-dozen men and women, assurances that everyone was all right. Peter looked around at the ragtag group he’d found himself a part of.

  A man came up to Tennant, someone new—the person who must’ve been here, ready to open the door for them in just such an emergency. “Do you know all these people, Lisa?” he asked quietly.

  Peter’s heart thundered in his ears. If they discovered who he was…

  “No, Jay,” she said, looking over the group. “No, I’m sorry. Everything fell apart. There were massive arrests. I think one of the Vulcans might’ve killed Induna. These people were near me, fighting side by side with me. I couldn’t leave them behind.”