Kirk lay on his back, watching clouds move slowly across a blue sky. He bit into a carrot, looked over at Chekov, and said, “Status report?” He was not unaware [116] of the incongruity of the conversation and the setting.
Sitting cross-legged on the blanket, Chekov replied, “Communications have cleared up slightly. We are able to communicate with one another here on Sanctuary, but I don’t think we can successfully send or receive messages outside. And I still think someone is listening in.”
Kirk finished the carrot and moved on to a roasted native bird of some sort. He bit into a drumstick and thought wryly, tastes like chicken. “Are you certain the messages aren’t getting out?”
“No,” Chekov replied. “In fact, they do appear to be getting out, but the fact that we have never received any response makes me think that they really aren’t being transmitted.”
“Spock would praise your logical deduction,” Kirk said approvingly. “As do I.”
“One thing Chekov and I did notice,” Scott added, “was that it looks like the Falorians are able to get messages through. We detected a narrow band sub-space carrier wave in that facility of theirs. It’s able to punch through their shield just fine, thank you very much.”
“Curiouser and curiouser,” Kirk said. “What’s the engineering buzz?”
“They’re so busy with their noses in the engines that they don’t stop to look up,” Scott said. Kirk thought the same could be said of Scotty from time to time, but he said nothing. “We’re getting flyovers almost daily. Sometimes more than once a day. There’s a lot of traffic up there, Captain.”
“If the Falorians are telling the truth, then that would [117] make sense,” Kirk countered. “It’s a resupply base. Of course there’d be a lot of ships coming to Sanctuary now.”
Scott raised an eyebrow. “If the base is over on the other side of the planet, they wouldn’t be needing to fly quite so directly over our little colony, though, now would they?”
“So we’re being watched,” Kirk said. His friends exchanged glances, then nodded their agreement.
Kirk permitted himself to finish the drumstick, then announced his decision.
“Gentlemen, I think this base needs to be investigated. Either of you like to accompany me?”
It was 0134 the following morning that Kirk, Chekov, and Scott rendezvoused at the Drake. The air was heavy with dew and they were all shivering in the early morning chill.
“Let’s go,” Kirk said. Quietly and quickly, they entered. With a deft touch born of years of coaxing obedience from delicate machinery, Scott started the atmosphere shuttle. Seconds later, they were aloft.
Chekov shook his head, smiling in amazement. “I can’t believe it,” he said. “I thought for certain we would have been noticed and challenged.”
“I knew we wouldn’t,” Kirk said with just a touch of superiority.
“How?” For the briefest of moments, Pavel Chekov looked like the brash young ensign Kirk remembered from thirty years ago as he stared at Kirk in wonder.
[118] “He asked for the shuttle,” Scott said. Kirk grinned like a wolf, and Chekov threw back his head and laughed.
“Alex thinks we are on a research mission to document the cycle of a rare, night-blooming flower. Said mission is headed by you, Mr. Chekov, so you’ll need to be able to answer any questions.”
Chekov made a face.
“Coincidentally,” Kirk continued, “it happens to grow in profusion very close to where Lissan’s mysterious base is located. We’ll just have to remember to get a few samples before we head back home.”
While the little atmosphere shuttle was not designed to explore space, it excelled at what it was designed to do and sped along quite nicely. As they approached the continent, all three of them instinctively quieted and focused on the tasks at hand.
“There it is,” Scotty said.
“It doesn’t look big enough to be a resupply base,” Chekov said.
“That’s probably because it isn’t,” Kirk said. Resupply bases were enormous. They had to be, in order to house sufficient supplies and provide ample docking for those ships that could land planetside. They were sometimes the size of small cities. The facility he was looking at was hardly a full kilometer. Whatever it housed was protected by a shield that not only prohibited examination via a ship’s computer, but any visual appraisal as well. It was a ghostly blue color and arched over the whole like an eggshell.
“Any sign we’ve been detected?” Kirk said, leaning [119] over Scott’s shoulder to look out through the Drake’s large windows.
“Negative,” said Scott. “There’s very little in the way of scanning equipment.”
“They apparently assume that no one will come looking for them,” said Chekov. He didn’t comment about how this directly contradicted Lissan’s comments about erecting the shield as a precaution against the untrustworthy. He didn’t have to. It was obvious that the entire story was one enormous lie, and with each new bit of information they gleaned that lie unraveled further.
Scott’s fingers flew over the controls. He shook his gray head. “Their technology is a lot more sophisticated than they’d like us to believe,” he said. “I’ve tried all the tricks in the book and I can’t penetrate that shield.”
Kirk made a decision. “Land us.”
Scott and Chekov didn’t bat an eyelash. They’d served with him long enough to know that any protest would go unheard by Kirk. It was one thing to just fly over and claim they were researching flowers. It was another thing to actually land the shuttle near the facility and do what Kirk was planning on doing. Scott maneuvered the small shuttle close to the earth, skimming along until he found a large copse of trees with a meadow in its center. With a surgeon’s grace, he dropped lower still and eased the shuttle into the clearing. The Drake hovered, then settled gently down onto the grass.
“They’ll find us if they do any scans,” Scott warned, [120] “but with any luck, the trees’ll at least provide visual camouflage.”
“Well done, Scotty. You need to stay with the shuttle.”
Scott’s mustache drooped. “But Captain, I—”
“No buts. I need your expertise to get that shield down long enough for us to get inside. Once Chekov and I are in, bring the shield back up immediately and get out of here fast. I think we’ll be able to figure out a way to get the shield open from the inside when we’re done.” He smiled wryly and added teasingly, “That’s of course assuming that you’ve been doing your research.”
“Ah, now, Captain,” Scott scolded gently, his eyes sparkling.
“You think we’ll be able to get the shield open?” Chekov exclaimed. “But if we can’t—”
“Then Scotty will have to lead a rescue team,” Kirk said wryly. “I’m not sure how much time we’ll need, so keep monitoring for our life signs outside the shield. We’ll head back for this copse. We won’t be able to communicate with you once we’re inside, so it’s up to you to keep a sharp lookout and get us out of here. Go to our original destination—the flower field. It’s within transport distance and a few seconds away at top speed. You may have to pick us up very quickly.”
Obviously, Scott was disappointed. But he saw Kirk’s logic and reluctantly nodded. “Aye, it’s a good plan. But I’m not going to be likin’ just leaving you here.”
“There’s less of a chance you’ll be discovered than if you just stay in this copse,” Kirk pointed out. He placed [121] a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “We need you with the shuttle, Scotty.”
“Aye,” Scotty said, straightening. He turned back to the computer and for a while the three old friends sat in silence, waiting. Finally, Scott grunted approvingly. “So that’s how we do it, eh?”
With a flourish, he touched a few more controls, and then the screen began to display a series of complicated graphics and code.
Scott turned around to explain what he was doing to Kirk and Chekov. “All right. Here’s the situation. I’ve been able to piggyback o
n that subspace carrier wave and I can disable their entire security system from here. Any monitors, screens, scanners—they’ll all go out. The only thing you two will have to worry about is being physically seen. And the beauty of it is it’ll look like a common, garden-variety glitch. They’ll never know it was us.”
“Scotty,” Kirk breathed, “you’re a genius!”
Scott inclined his head modestly. “You and Chekov go on, Captain. I’ll have that thing open and shut for you in the blink of an eye. And unless anyone is actually looking at the controls at the time I do it, they won’t notice that, either.”
Kirk grinned, clapped the miracle-performing engineer on the back, and opened the shuttle door. He and Chekov dropped quietly down to the earth and sped for the Falorian “resupply base.”
It loomed ahead of them, its pulsating blue glow eerie in the dark night. Kirk’s eyes flicked from the approaching shield dome to his tricorder. No sign of humanoid [122] life. So far as he could tell, they were still undetected.
He didn’t slow as they drew closer, and Chekov matched his pace easily. Kirk trusted Scott completely, and just as it appeared that they were both about to slam into the shield and probably be killed, the shield disappeared.
They kept running.
Already aloft, Scott watched without blinking as the two dots that signified Kirk and Chekov entered the facility. The instant they had cleared the shield radius he jabbed a button and the shield was reerected.
They were in.
Smoothly, Scott maneuvered the little vessel toward the field of white flowers. “Godspeed,” he wished his two friends, and began the wait.
Chapter Eleven
COMMANDER T’SROH had never been more bored in his entire life.
Intellectually, he knew that he had been given a great honor: to assist his noble Chancellor in carrying out her vow of DIS jaj je. When Kerla had first contacted him and informed him of this important task, T’SroH had puffed his chest out with pride.
And then Kerla filled him in on the details.
The destruction of Praxis had been a disaster on a scale that most Klingons were only now truly beginning to appreciate. T’SroH, like Kerla, had not at first approved of Gorkon’s peace initiatives, but with each day that passed, the unpleasant reality revealed itself more clearly: The Klingons needed peace if they were to survive as the passionate, proud people they had always been. The events at Khitomer regarding one James T. Kirk had startled T’SroH and many others, and when he learned that Kirk was the subject of Azetbur’s DIS jaj je, he was not surprised.
[124] If only Kirk had willingly accepted the great honor that Azetbur had bestowed! Then T’SroH would not be bored, as he was now. It was not the fact that he now owed a year and a day out of his life to fulfilling his chancellor’s honor debt, but the manner in which he had to spend that year and day.
He had followed the large, ungainly ship called the Mayflower II to this planet, nauseatingly named Sanctuary. His ship, the proud and noble K’Rator, had maintained its cloak the entire time, running undetectable while any other ships were in the vicinity and scanning quickly, cautiously, when they were not.
Why had Captain Kirk, by all accounts an adventuresome human, come to this wretchedly peaceful place? The Klingon had been brought up to speed, of course, and knew that there was a blood bond between the starship captain and the younger colony founders. But what purpose would it serve? From what he knew of Kirk, T’SroH suspected the human was as bored as he.
Weeks had gone by in this manner. T’SroH was beginning to think he might go mad. His crew was beginning to grumble as well. At this rate, the entire Year and a Day would pass before Kirk would do so much as stub a toe.
At least there was some activity to break up the monotony. T’SroH had watched with mild interest as the Falorians worked without ceasing to build a spacedock close to Sanctuary. He had made note of the vessels that came and went. Many were large cargo vessels; some were sleek, dangerous-looking fighters. Still others were strange hybrids, clearly cobbled together of many [125] different vessels from many different peoples. One or two T’SroH thought he recognized as belonging to members of the Orion Syndicate, but, of course, he could not be certain unless they chose to display their symbol of a circle and a lightning bolt. Which, naturally, they would be reluctant to do. He made a mental note and let it go. If the Falorians chose to deal with the scum, let them. His sole focus, his reason for being locked in orbit around this miserable place, was James Kirk. All else was extraneous.
To that end, of much greater interest were the daily flyovers the Falorian ships made of the colony. T’SroH kept hoping for some kind of attack to break the monotony, but none came.
T’SroH had also hoped this mysterious facility the Falorians had built on the far side of the planet would prove of interest, but thus far, the shields had only been lowered for the briefest of moments. There had been no time to execute an order to scan so they might discover what that shield protected.
The Klingons had long since adapted to the cycles of this planet’s days and nights, and it was the small hours of the morning on Sanctuary. T’SroH lay in his bed, unable to sleep, although sleep would be an excellent way to pass the time that appeared to be on his hands.
There was a sharp whistle of the communications system. “Commander,” came his second-in-command’s voice.
“Speak,” T’SroH grunted.
“Captain Kirk and two others have left the colony. I [126] thought you would wish to be informed,” continued Garthak.
At this hour? That was indeed unusual. T’SroH sat up in his bed. “What is their destination?”
“Uncertain.” A pause. Then, his voice laced with excitement, “They are heading to the facility.”
T’SroH growled his pleasure and leaped out of bed. This should be interesting. Perhaps the time had finally come to pay the DIS jaj je.
He hastened to the bridge just in time for Garthak to say, “They are right outside the perimeter.”
T’SroH found himself breathing shallowly, his blood racing. Had it really been so long since anything had happened that the sight of two humans outside an alien facility would make him catch his breath so? He made a mental note to challenge Garthak to a good bat’leth practice later today.
But T’SroH was not the only one watching with excitement; he could feel the tension on the bridge. There he was, the famous James T. Kirk. He knew, as Kirk could not, how secure the Falorians were in the impenetrability of their base. Clearly, they thought the colonists would behave like good little Earth sheep and stay where they were supposed to; stay where the Falorians could keep watch over them.
He found himself doing something he thought he would never do—rooting for a human.
“I have heard of his Engineer Scott as well,” T’SroH said. “If he is the one in the vessel, then it is likely that—”
He fell silent as in front of his eyes, the shield went [127] down and the two humans raced inside. T’SroH caught only the briefest glimpses of the shapes of buildings before the blue, pulsating shield went back up.
The shield had only been down for half a second. With any luck, if it was even noticed by whatever security the Falorians had, the brief shutdown would be assumed to be a technical error.
He leaned forward in his command chair. After weeks of waiting, T’SroH wasn’t about to miss a moment of this.
There was a low hum and a crackle as the shield went down. Phasers at the ready, Kirk and Chekov charged in. A fraction of a second later, the shield was back up. They remained tense, alert for any sign that they had been discovered, but all was quiet.
Kirk looked around while Chekov studied the tricorder. In the distance was a large tower. Scattered about were six or eight outbuildings, all small, utilitarian looking and single-story. There were a few lights on, but not many. The perimeter was only sparsely lit as well.
“Clearly, they put a lot of trust in that shield,” Kirk said. “Scott said their security s
ystems were a bit lax.”
“I see no cargo areas, no ships, nothing that even remotely resembles a vessel,” Chekov said. Sarcastically he added, “I wonder why that is?”
“But I do see the source of that subspace carrier wave,” Kirk said, stepping forward and craning his neck to look up at the tower. “It dominates the entire area.”
“It’s a subspace relay, all right, but ...” Chekov [128] frowned. “This is a Starfleet issue relay, I’m certain of it.”
“What?” Kirk looked with renewed interest at the relay. “No cargo areas, pirated technology ... it’s not looking very good for the Falorians’ trustworthiness. Come on.”
Carefully they moved toward the mostly darkened buildings. Scotty might have disabled the security system for the next few hours, but there was always the chance that they’d run into the old-fashioned security system—a guard. But the Falorians were diurnal, as were humans, and it looked as though most of them had gone to bed for the night.
Kirk heard a slight noise and, grabbing Chekov’s arm, pulled him up close against the nearest building. Several meters away, a single bored-looking Falorian guard, carrying a Starfleet-issue phaser, strolled past.
“If that’s their security system, I think we’re a match for it,” Chekov whispered.
“Did you see the phaser?”
“I’m holding one just like it.”
Quietly, they moved on. A window was open across a wide patch of grass, and Kirk squinted, trying to see inside. He saw what appeared to be a bed and a desk, and then the room went dark. These were living quarters, then.
But who lived here?
“Captain,” Chekov said quietly, “There’s a large entrance into the soil at the center of the area. It seems to be a tunnel of some sort. I’m detecting more evidence [129] of high-level technology there than in any of these outer buildings.”
“Then that’s where we should be,” Kirk said. This area was better lit than the perimeter, but Chekov was able to pinpoint the presence of any Falorians. When all was clear, they sprinted for the tunnel.
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