by Peter David
"They said that due to 'extenuating circumstances,' they were forgiving us our transgressions, basically," Sulu explained to her.
"The circumstances being that you saved the Earth."
"I'd have to say that's correct. The only one they came down on was the admiral … and they busted him back to captain."
She winced. "That must have hurt."
"Not really. Between you and me, I don't think he was ever really happy as an admiral. As captain, he can—and will—be back in command of a starship. That's where he belongs."
"From everything you've said about him, I'd have to agree. Of course, the Klingons are still angry with him."
"True enough," Sulu agreed, twirling thin noodles onto his fork.
"Not a problem," said Demora. "All he has to do is save the Klingons from some big catastrophe, and then they'll forgive him, too."
"Part of me wants to say that that's too absurd for words," Sulu said. "On the other hand, I've learned never to underestimate the adm … the captain." He sighed and looked around the apartment. "My my, what a mess."
"I know. The storm was kind of hard on it."
He glanced at the far wall. "Even knocked down all the pictures of my family."
"Oh yes," she said quickly. "It was vicious. Just everything came down."
"Well, you did your best."
"Dad … I have to tell you something …"
He waited, eyebrows raised.
"When I saw your ship … I thought that that was going to be it for you. That there was no way you could possibly …" Her voice trailed off.
"Oh, come now, Demy," he chided her. "You should have more faith. I was at the helm, remember. It was my job to bring her in safely. I'm a helmsman, not a kamikaze. We came plowing into that bay with a plan and a crew to pull it off. I don't dispute that it was tricky, but believe you me, Demy … and you never have to worry about this … one thing I most definitely am not is suicidal."
He said it with amusement in his voice. Laughing at the concept. Laughing at her.
Sure, now, in the light of calm skies and the ebbing of her fears, it seemed laughable enough. But not at the time. Not only that, but her faulty reasoning had almost …
… almost …
"No, of course you're not suicidal, Dad. I wouldn't even suggest such a thing."
Her fork dangled over the noodles. There was so much she wanted to say. So much that angered her, frustrated her, frightened her. So many unresolved sentiments that had been brought to the surface by Sulu's long absence. She wanted to bring it up, but she didn't even know where to begin.
"Janice treated you well, I assume," said Sulu.
"Oh yes." She nodded. "Yes, very well."
"Good," said Sulu. He reached over and patted her hand. "I knew I could count on her. Just like I knew I could count on you to be a grown-up. You're getting so big, Demy."
"Thanks, Dad." She cleared her throat. "And it's … it's great to have you home. I can't begin to tell you how. And there's a lot I'd—"
The front door chimed. Demora started to rise, but Sulu said, "No, no, I'll get it." He went to the door as Demora remained in her seat.
Chekov walked in, brimming with excitement. "Now" was all he said.
Sulu looked surprised. "Now?"
"Now. Ve're to report to the spacedock shuttle immediately. I vould have called ahead, but comm is still out in this section of town."
"What's going on?" Demora asked.
Chekov crossed quickly to her and kissed her on the cheek. "Good to see you again, darling. Vat a mess, eh?" He turned back to Sulu. "So? Vat are you vaiting for?"
Despite Chekov's acknowledgment of her presence, she still felt as if she were invisible. "Excuse me. He just got back. Dad, you just got back… ."
He paused, and then took her by the hands. "Demy … I'm sure it won't be for too long."
"What 'it'? What's going on?"
"They're putting the captain back in charge of a starship. I told you that. Taking a guess, the Excelsior. And we're going to be his command crew … just for the shakedown cruise, that's all. I'm sure it won't be for too long."
She stared at him and thought, How can you be so sure? The moment you get out there, anything can happen at any moment. Isn't that what you've always said? Another probe, another madman, another threat … and it'll be another three months? A year? Five? You just came back!
He squeezed her hand tightly and said, "Demy … if you have a problem with it …"
But she could see it in his eyes. He didn't want her to say anything unless it was approval. He didn't want to hear everything that was going through her mind, not really.
And she knew, right then. Knew that all her suspicions, all her guilt since she was a kid, was justified. Given a choice between her and the stars, there was simply no contest. He was meant to be a creature in flight and ever since she had first shown up, she'd handicapped him. He'd been a crippled, wretched bird flapping around, as destined for a crash as that Klingon bird-of-prey had been. It was all her fault, and the guilt and self-recrimination hardened into a wall surrounding her heart.
And at that moment she swore herself an oath … that she would never again say or do anything to hamper him. Here was a man who had just helped save the Earth. Save the Earth, for God's sake. And she was going to start trying to tie him down again? To heap guilt on him, make him feel he owed her something? She saw the excitement in his eyes over the prospect of getting right back out there again.
More: She saw the future. Suddenly it revealed itself to her, clear as the new day that had dawned on the salvaged Earth. The explorer, the space adventurer within Hikaru Sulu had reawoken with a ferocious appetite. The years with her had been wasted ones. All the times he'd commented that saddling James Kirk with a teaching job was a waste of material, he could just as easily have been saying that about himself.
He would pursue more adventures, she knew that now. She saw him at the helm of a ship … hell, she saw him in a command chair. Fulfiling a destiny that had been sidetracked by the unexpected addition of a young girl. Sulu was meant to save planets, not be tied down to one.
And she would follow him. She would. Within two years she'd be eligible to enroll at Starfleet Academy. The final frontier pulled at her just as it did her father. Even more strongly, in fact, because joining Starfleet would enable her to become the only thing that he could ever respect: someone just like him.
"It's okay, Dad," she said, in the greatest acting performance of her life. "Really. It's okay. I'm not a kid anymore, like you said. If there's any problems, I've got Janice as back-up, but hey … gotta start being independent sometime. And after everything you've been through … you deserve it. Go. I'll be here when you get back. Hell, if you're gone long enough, I'll be through the Academy and be coming out after you."
Despite her resolve, just for a moment, she desperately wanted him to see through it. To validate for her their years together. To say, Don't be ridiculous. We could so easily have lost each other forever. I'm going to stay with you right here, by your side, and we're going to talk and heal our relationship and …
He held her tightly. "I knew you'd understand," he said.
She smiled gamely. "Hey, what are daughters for?"
Then it was another hug, a quick kiss, a hurried farewell, and he and Chekov were out the door. Demora sat at the table for a long time after that, staring at the cooling bowl of noodles. Then, of their own volition it seemed, Demora's hands reached out, grabbed the bowl, and hurled it against the wall. The bowl shattered, noodles all over the wall and sliding down it in a large smear.
It was a mess. But then again, what was one more mess in her life … more or less.
SECTION FIVE
LIFE AFTER DEATH
Chapter Twenty-two
CHEKOV CAME OUT of the disciplinary hearing smarting a bit, but otherwise intact. Uhura, who had stood by him during the hearing, had given an impassioned speech which, frankly, had Chekov less t
han thrilled. She had painted him as so totally devastated by the shock of recent events—first his beloved captain, then his beloved goddaughter—that he had simply come unhinged. Temporary insanity, as it were. That was why, she said, he had hauled off and attacked Captain Harriman at Demora Sulu's memorial service.
The disciplinary committee conferred and finally settled for a slap on the wrist—an official reprimand (which Chekov had no problem with) and an official written apology from Chekov to Captain Harriman (which Chekov did have a problem with).
They walked back to his place, Chekov complaining all the way. "I'd like to apologize, all right," he said tersely. "Apologize vit a brick through that thick skull of his."
"Look, Pavel, you'd better own up to the fact that you got off lucky," Uhura informed him. "Lucky that you got a hearing board that was somewhat sympathetic to your state of mind. And lucky that Harriman decided not to press the matter. Otherwise it could have gone extremely badly for you."
Chekov gave a derisive snort, but Uhura could tell that he knew she had a point. By the time they got back to Chekov's home, Uhura was already suggesting language for the apology that Chekov was admitting he could live with.
Upon entering, Chekov immediately noticed that there was a message waiting for him. "You know where everything is." Chekov gestured.
"I know where the vodka is," replied Uhura. "That's about all you keep around here."
"I think of it as having priorities," he said archly as he punched up the message at his computer station.
Uhura managed to turn up some fruit juice, and she sat down on the couch to sip it delicately. "Chekov," she said after a moment, sounding fairly glum, "you want to hear something really depressing? I mean, I probably shouldn't be saying this, all things considered. But I think about everything we've accomplished … and what we're leaving behind. Except … the captain's dead. His son is dead. Sulu's daughter is dead. I have no family, nor do you or Scotty. I feel as if we're going, one by one, like characters in a murder mystery. And when it's all over, all we'll be are names in Starfleet texts somewhere. We struggled and risked so much, and in end … maybe we'll be remembered. But there will be no one left to really love us. Was it all worth it, Chekov? Was it?"
He didn't say anything in response. She turned. "Chekov?"
He was seated at his computer screen, and now he turned to Uhura and gestured quickly. "Come here."
"Were you listening to anything I said?"
"Not a vord. Uhura …"
"Well, I'm certainly glad I told you what was on my mi—"
"Uhura, now!" he said with such urgency that it brought her full attention upon him. She went quickly to him and bent over his shoulder to see what he was looking at.
There was an image of Sulu, frozen on the screen. "What's going on?" she asked.
"I'll play it again," he said. "Vatch."
Sulu stayed immobile for a moment more, and then he said, "By the time you receive this, I may very well have thrown away my captaincy. For all I know, I may even be dead. But it's important to me that you, Chekov, and you, Uhura, understand what I'm doing and why I'm doing it."
"He sent the exact same message to both of us, I'd guess," said Chekov. "That's vy …"
"I figured that out, Chekov," she said dryly.
"I refuse to accept the mystery of Demora's death so easily," continued Sulu. "I've barely eaten, barely slept … barely been able to function since I learned of it. Captain Harriman's quarantine action, while understandable—even regulation—is not one that I can tolerate. I can't wait around for months, even years, to find out why my daughter's life is ashes. Indeed … I can't wait around so much as a week. I have to know, for Demora's sake … and for mine. Because in those moments where I do barely drift to sleep … in those twilight seconds … I still feel like I hear her calling to me. I can't abandon her to an enigma. I can't.
"I am therefore intending to bring the Excelsior directly to Askalon Five. Doing this will be not only a direct violation of the quarantine regs, but directly ignoring the orders of Admiral LaVelle. I suspect the recriminations may be severe, but it cannot be helped. I have to do this. I have to.
"On the other hand, I knew I could not tell you … my friends … because I knew there would be no preventing you from joining me on this potentially career-ending quest. Only a couple of years ago, we came together to help Dr. McCoy rejoin Spock's soul to his body. We emerged from that situation unscathed, largely due to the potentially disastrous—yet, ironically, lucky—problem with the Probe. The timing of that bordered on the supernatural. If we'd arrived days earlier, we'd have been serving sentences on a mining colony somewhere. Days, even hours later … and Earth would have been destroyed.
"So it appears that Captain Kirk had some powerful gods watching over him. But it would seem that even those gods have finally abandoned him, and if they weren't there for him … it's a good bet they won't be there for us. Based on that, I cannot and will not risk your coming along.
"Instead I have decided to handle this matter in the way that Mr. Spock did in the Talos Four affair. By taking these actions on myself, by myself, to shield you from potential recriminations. It's my problem. And she was … my daughter.
"But it is important to me that you know and understand my need for subtrefuge, so that you won't think the less of me. Losing your respect would pain me almost as much as losing Demora … and," he said with a grim smile, "I don't think I can handle much more loss right now.
"So … that is the situation. It's my situation. Wish me good luck, and a hope that whatever gods protected James Kirk for so well and so long … cast a brief and favorable glance my way. Sulu out."
The picture blinked off, leaving Chekov and Uhura staring at the blank screen for a long moment.
"I cannot believe he did that," Chekov said. "I cannot believe he left us behind."
"I can," Uhura replied. "I can believe it, for the exact reasons he said. This is something he had to do. He needs to find peace of mind. And I guess he couldn't do that if part of his mind was on us."
"So vat happens now? Ve pretend that everything is normal? Go on with our lives?"
"That's right," said Uhura. "That's exactly what we do. Oh … and one other thing."
"Vat?"
"We pray."
She floated in a haze of confusion …
She thought she heard voices talking … unfamiliar voices …
There was liquid everywhere … she was submerged in some sort of gelatinous mass. She should have been drowning, but she wasn't … it filled her nose, her lungs, every part of her, but instead of suffocating her, it nourished her …
It was like being back in the womb …
… whose womb … someone's womb …
… her recollection was nonexistent, her awareness of who or where she was at best a distant thing …
… she wanted someone … someone to come to her … someone to save her … but she didn't know what or who she needed to be saved from … or who could possibly find her …
Chapter Twenty-three
NO ONE HAD WANTED to be the first to say anything.
Not Anik of Matern, the first officer, who heard the order given. Not Lojur, the Kothan navigator who laid in the course. Not Lieutenant Shandra Docksey at helm as she sent the Excelsior hurtling in a direction that was not remotely akin to the one that she had thought she'd be following. Not even Commander Rand at communications.
Nevertheless, somebody had to say something. At first it looked like it was going to be Rand, thanks to her long association with Captain Sulu. But Anik took it upon herself to do it. She stepped forward on her delicate legs, cleared her throat and said, "Captain …"
He turned in his chair and looked remarkably calm. They both knew exactly what she was going to say, so it was just a matter of her saying it.
"The course you've indicated for us is not the course to Centrelis."
"Not necessarily, Commander," he said reasonably. Anik seeme
d momentarily confused, as if uncertain he'd heard the statement. "Sir …?"
"It's simply not the shortest route to Centrelis. I've decided we're going to take the scenic route."
"The … scenic route, sir?"
"That's right, Commander. Life is too short not to take time to savor the pretty things in life. Don't you agree?"
Docksey and Lojur exchanged glances.
Anik looked at him suspiciously. "Sir …"
"The course is as I ordered it, Commander. On my responsibility. Do you have a problem with that?"
"Sir … it's not whether I have a problem with it or not. It's whether Starfleet will have a problem with it."
"Are you lecturing me, Commander?"
The bridge had gotten very quiet. Anik had that ethereal look, but no one doubted her strength of character or spirit. She was not someone who would permit herself to be intimidated or pushed around.
Sulu met Anik's level gaze, and then said with exceeding calm, "I know what I'm doing, Commander."
"Yes, Captain. I think we all know what you're doing," Anik replied. "And it is my recommendation that—"
It was at that moment that the distress signal came.
"Captain," said Rand urgently. "Call for assistance coming in." It was a fair guess that never, in the history of Starfleet, had news of a ship in trouble been greeted with such relief. "Cargo ship Burton in sector two-nine-J, with a malfunctioning warp coil. They need to abandon ship and are requesting immediate assistance."
"Signal that—" He paused … looked at Anik … and then smiled. "Signal that we anticipated their request, and will rendezvous with them at …" He looked to Lojur, eyebrows raised questioningly.
"We can be there in"—Lojur checked his instruments—"forty-seven minutes, sir."
"In forty-seven minutes," Sulu said. "We will off-load the crew and cargo to Excelsior, and transport them to Starbase Nine."
"Yes, sir," she said, and turned to her comm board to relay the message.
