Hell's Heart

by John Jackson Miller

  “But only I would know about it,” Potok said.

  “That is true,” Spock said. “Is Klingon honor no different from that starship following us? A phantasm, appearing only when it suits your needs?”

  Potok only had a moment to think about it when someone barked at them from behind. Spock recognized the voice: it was the young lord, returned to the bridge.

  “What’s going on here?”

  Twenty-nine

  U.S.S. ENTERPRISE-A WORKPOD 6

  INSIDE THE BRIAR PATCH

  “Enterprise to Captain Kirk,” Uhura said over the tiny shuttle’s comm.

  Scrutinizing the dingy hull of one of the Klingon freighters, Kirk paused to respond. “Kirk here.”

  “Commander Spock’s freighter has returned and is approaching our position.”

  “It’s about time.” There was no way to see Potok’s freighter, given the workpod’s orientation, but Kirk’s pilot pointed out the approaching contact on the scanner. “What did Spock say?”

  “He has not said anything, sir. There has been no response from the freighter since we sighted it.”

  “Don’t tell me—let me guess. Their impulse drive and comm system no longer work at the same time.” That was certainly possible, given the state of the freighters he’d surveyed. But darker possibilities entered the captain’s mind unbidden, and his eyes narrowed. “If they reach weapons range without responding, raise shields.”

  “Scott here, Captain. D’you think that’s necessary? You’ve seen for yourself—there’s not so much as a billy club mounted on any of these ships.”

  That was true enough—and it wasn’t as if Potok would have had time to refit or to trade out his refugees for a cargo hold full of explosives. But he wasn’t prepared to relax. “That’s an order. Keep hailing them. I have another circuit to make here.”

  KLINGON FREIGHTER I (STARFLEET DESIGNATION)

  INSIDE THE BRIAR PATCH

  Korgh charged forward on the bridge. He’d seen Potok up and standing before Spock’s chair, and had heard the Vulcan talking. Approaching, he saw the general lean over Spock, working on his wrist restraints. Potok looked up at Korgh. “My lord.”

  “What, did our guest try to go for a walk?” Korgh asked.

  “No.”

  Korgh laughed. “Those restraints might be the only things on your freighters that do work, General. I’ve got Daglak back there holding connections together with his hands. But the interlock system should work. We’ll just need to identify which ship Kirk is in.”

  He looked past Potok to the main port. Amid the billowing irradiated clouds of the Briar Patch, Enterprise sat near the Klingon freighters. Several workpods were clearly visible, flying between them. Korgh breathed a sigh of relief. The technical problems had been resolved.

  Korgh stepped forward to the interface. “Find which workpod.”

  “You do not have to kill Captain Kirk,” Spock said from behind him. “We both know your bird-of-prey has the ability to use its transporters while cloaked. You have options.”

  “Put him on trial?” Hands in motion on the control interface, Korgh mused. Another Klingon might do exactly that—and it would surely delight the masses. Returning Kirk in chains could make his legend as surely as killing him would.

  But he already had a sure prisoner in Spock—and Kirk had murdered Kruge. And in so doing, had nearly ruined Korgh’s life. “No. He dies—and by my hand.”

  A beep sounded. “We’re being hailed,” Potok said.

  Korgh motioned for the general to reclaim the pilot’s seat. There, Potok touched a control.

  “—gone for a while, Spock. Can you hear me?”

  “It is Kirk,” the general said, emotionless.

  Korgh’s heart pounded. We’re not too late after all. Standing beside Potok, he studied the display, trying to determine which vessel the transmission was coming from. “Can you respond with static?”

  “On this ship, more easily than with words.” Potok touched a control, producing a high-pitch squawk that resounded through the cabin.

  U.S.S. ENTERPRISE-A WORKPOD 6

  INSIDE THE BRIAR PATCH

  The screech attacked Kirk’s ears. Wincing, he glanced at the ensign piloting the workpod. “Source of that?”

  “Commander Spock’s freighter,” she said, turning down the offending sound. “It’s the channel you transmitted on. They’re trying to respond.”

  “And failing.” Kirk activated the comm. “If you can hear me, Spock, park it there. I’m heading back to Enterprise. We’ll transport you over once I’m there. Workpod 6 out.”

  KLINGON FREIGHTER I (STARFLEET DESIGNATION)

  INSIDE THE BRIAR PATCH

  The shriek from the freighter’s comm system continued—but as loud as it was, it could not conceal from Spock’s hearing the young lord’s hoot of delight. Spock saw him pound the top of a console with his fist. “That’s it. That’s the one!”

  Spock looked past the two Klingons to see the workpod examining the nearest freighter turn to head off. The young lord turned, too, heading back to the freight interlock station. “That’s got to be Kirk,” he cried. “Workpod 6!”

  There was no more time to wait. Spock had tested the restraint harness several times over the last hour and found himself unable to break free—and that was before Potok worked on them. But he had no choice but to try again. Behind him, the young lord yelled out, trying to be heard over the din. “I have it targeted, general—but the system needs the transmitter. Turn off that noise!”

  The screeching static continued, unabated. Starting to flex his muscles, Spock noticed Potok. The general sat immobilized before the comm station, staring at it as one hypnotized by the frenetic squawking.

  And then Spock noticed something else.

  “What are you waiting for?” the younger Klingon bellowed. “Kirk is there—I have to send the coordinates!”

  Potok was a statue.

  “Damn you, General! That’s an order!”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Spock caught a glimpse of the young lord charging forward, ready to deactivate the static himself. It took him past Spock’s chair—

  —just in time for the Vulcan to bolt upward, untrammeled by the straps that had held him. Spock’s arm shot out, his hand catching the young lord behind his neck. The Klingon wore an look of complete astonishment before his eyes shut, and he collapsed to the deck.

  Spock looked at Potok. The general had not moved. The sonic attack continuing, he looked back at Spock—and then aft to the cargo control interface. Spock turned and hurried toward it. With a touch, he deactivated it.

  Potok turned off the horrible screech. Taking a breath, he looked back at the chair that had been the Vulcan’s prison. Potok had loosened, not tightened, Spock’s bonds after their last conversation.

  Returning forward, Spock looked at the Klingon searchingly. Potok, his hand still on the comm interface, opened a channel. “Odrok,” he said. “This is General Potok, speaking for your lord. The situation has changed. You will stand down until further notice.”

  It took several seconds to receive an answer. “Understood. Standing down.”

  “I do not think Enterprise can hear us on this channel,” Potok said, “but I will only say this once. We will turn the freighter about so you can follow, exiting the nebula without being detected. You will then stand by outside the perimeter until I return for you.”

  “Acknowledged, General. Odrok out.”

  He looked back to Spock. “I cannot let Enterprise take my lord’s ship, you understand—but it will not harass you further. If you will transmit to Enterprise that we need another test flight, I can escort her out. Agreed?”

  Spock thought for a moment. “Agreed.”

  “Then you have the conn, Captain.” Potok rose from the pilot seat, allowing Spock to replace h
im.

  Spock watched the general. Which of his words had reached Potok? Had it been that final argument, that killing Kirk would not eradicate his people’s shame? Or had Potok determined that his offense required atonement rather than a redemptive act?

  The general did not say. He looked down, contemplating his young lord. Then, in a display of strength that belied his age, Potok heaved his body from the deck. Spock watched as he carried his master aft.

  Potok stopped in the doorway and looked back. “Spock, have you ever been expected to pursue a path that you could not, because of who you had become?”

  “General, it has often been the story of my life.” He turned and opened a channel to Enterprise.

  Thirty

  Spock hailed the Enterprise as he had promised, additionally advising Scott to begin applying the repair techniques to the other freighters. At that moment, Kirk was exiting the workpod into Enterprise’s landing bay, had been advised of Spock’s message, and had grudgingly given consent.

  The freighter’s subsequent return trip back outside the Briar Patch had been much swifter. Potok had returned to the bridge by then, extracting a confirmation from whoever was helming the bird-of-prey that it would await his reappearance. Then Spock had turned the freighter back toward Enterprise.

  During his absence from the bridge, Potok had directed his passengers to lock the lord’s unconscious form in a cargo bay, along with the three minions he had arrived with. Spock suspected there had been no difficulty in that, as without their leader, not one had the nerve to challenge the general and his people. Spock had previously understood that all Klingons were expected to be warriors, but it was clear the young lord’s three escorts specialized in engineering to the exception of martial training.

  Reaching the group of freighters again, Spock found that Scott’s team had nearly finished its repair work. One by one, the freighters’ impulse drives came back online. Potok’s people, who had risked the failure of their life-support systems, now had a chance.

  Spock had not expected that Potok would react emotionally to that news, and he hadn’t. The general was solemn when he prepared to see Spock off. “We will return my lord to his vessel after we depart,” he said. “I expect Enterprise will be far away by the time he can act. But he will act without us.” He looked at Spock. “You will not seek to find his bird-of-prey by following us?”

  “That is up to my captain. But I will tell him your story before he decides.”

  Potok nodded. “Good enough.”

  “General, earlier you asked about traveling through time. Was it just about undoing the circumstances of your defeat? Or something else?”

  “The past is the past,” Potok said, casting his eyes out at the freighters. “No Klingon should wish to interfere with fate’s story, already sung. This is about the future.”

  “There is a term to your punishment?”

  “Not for me—nor for anyone in my company. But generations in the future will have the right to live again with honor.”

  Spock nodded. It was about atonement. “In that case, I will not wish you long life and prosperity. But I will say this, Potok. Honor is not a title or a medal. I do not believe it is so easily stripped.”

  “I wish I believed that. Qapla’, Spock.”

  Joined by his security forces, Spock triggered his communicator. “Enterprise, four to beam aboard.”

  U.S.S. ENTERPRISE-A

  INSIDE THE BRIAR PATCH

  “Let’s see if I’ve got this straight,” Kirk said in the conference room. “Three hundred Klingon convicts under a military general. A bird-of-prey with a commander who wants me dead. A commander with some kind of allegiance to the man who ordered my son’s death. A commander, I add, who hunted me and came within seconds of getting his wish. And now that we’ve fixed their ships, you want us to let them go free.” He stared at Spock. “Did I miss anything?”

  Across the table, Spock clasped his hands together. “It is not how I would summarize the matter. But it is basically correct.”

  “ ‘Basically correct.’ ” Kirk looked at the others at the table. Chekov and Sulu were smiling, and McCoy was doing his best not to laugh. Kirk leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know when I got this reputation for magnanimity.”

  Kirk gestured to the port. Outside, the seven freighters were beginning to move. “The Klingons have prisons. These people did not go to one. What does that tell you?”

  “Rura Penthe is full?” Chekov suggested.

  “It means they thought they were better off without these people. Think of that: people the Klingons didn’t feel good about having around. I’m amazed, Spock, truly amazed.”

  “Sir?”

  Kirk shook his head. “I’m talking about the mistake we made—that I made—exiling Khan and his people on Ceti Alpha V. We had nothing but good intentions in leaving them there. And you know what happened next.”

  “A number of events which could not have been foreseen,” Spock said.

  “Should have been foreseen.”

  “We could not, with the technology available at the time, have predicted the calamity that befell Ceti Alpha V’s sister planet. If we had, we would have chosen a different place of exile.”

  Kirk blew up. “My mistake was in trusting Khan, trusting to fate, trusting to how he would react to it.” Kirk looked searchingly across the table at him. “My God, Spock, you died because of that mistake.”

  Spock ignored the observation. “If we believed that Khan’s eventual path was predetermined regardless of his circumstance, the logical choice would have been never to have revived his people from hibernation.”

  “Sounds good to me,” McCoy said.

  “But we did not so believe back then. And you do not now. We do not punish before the offense.”

  Exasperated, Kirk started to say something before stopping. Beyond the port, he saw the freighters heading outward, leaving the Briar Patch. The Enterprise could still catch them easily.

  “Captain—” Spock started. “—Jim, I do not believe Potok’s Klingons have the capacity for that kind of violence in their current state.”

  “And if that state should change, Spock?”

  “It will change. All life evolves.” Spock paused. “But we do not know what it will change into. In fact, I believe we could see it as an improvement.”

  “An improvement?” McCoy smiled at Spock. “Go on. I’d like to hear this.”

  “The exile of Potok’s people was the result of a sentence. I do not know what they call it, but it is a sentence of long duration, past their own lifetimes, impacting their progeny. But finite. Now, consider Klingons separated from their warlike environment, living in peace for decades. If such a people were to return to the Klingon Empire, what difference might they make, given their experiences?”

  “You see them as what?” McCoy asked. “A delayed-release injection of pacifism?” He shook his head. “That could be a mighty long delay. And with Klingons, I wouldn’t expect the drug to take.”

  “Every drug has its trial. Perhaps this is one.”

  Kirk rolled his eyes. “I think you’re playing God, using these people as a lab experiment.”

  “We are simply making a choice not to act,” Spock said, “in order to observe the results.”

  Kirk shook his head. “I’m filing a report with Starfleet. I’m not letting them toddle off without someone checking on them.”

  “We should not want to intrude—”

  “Oh, we won’t meddle with your experiment,” Kirk said. “But someone is damn well going to watch them.” Kirk stood—and paused, remembering something else. “And this commander with the grudge. Did you get his name?”

  “I did not,” Spock said. “He had a lieutenant named Odrok. That is all I know.”

  Kirk sighed. “How many Klingons named Odrok could there be?”


  “It is the twenty-fifth-most common name among Klingon females, according to the last datafeed from Starfleet Intelligence.”

  “Wonderful.” Kirk shrugged. “Well, what’s one more maniac trying to kill us?” He pointed to Spock. “That was rhetorical. I hope you’re right about this, Spock.” He paused. “Of course, you usually are. I’ve got reports to make. Dismissed.”

  • • •

  Spock left the conference room thinking that it had gone better than he had expected. He had only promised Potok what he was able to deliver—and Kirk had trusted him enough to go the rest of the way.

  McCoy walked down the hall with him. “Spock, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “It does not depend on what I do, Doctor. It depends on what Potok’s people do.”

  “I’m not just talking about this one group.” He pointed to his forehead. “You forget, I know your mind. To you, a permanent peace with Klingons sounds logical, workable. But I don’t think the rest of the universe is ready. And Jim will never be ready—for good reason. I know your intentions are good, Spock, but maybe you don’t want to keep pushing this topic.”

  “A lasting peace is a worthwhile project.” Spock thought for a moment. “But you are correct, Doctor. I will cogitate on the matter further before acting.”

  Thirty-one

  KLINGON FREIGHTER I (STARFLEET DESIGNATION)

  OUTSIDE THE BRIAR PATCH

  Potok unlocked the door. Korgh, asleep on the deck, roused.

  “Your engineer friends are taking a meal with my people,” Potok said. “We have little, but we could not let them starve.”

  Remembering where he was, Korgh scrambled to his feet. He lunged for Potok—only to be restrained by two of the general’s large companions. Korgh struggled. “I should kill you, Potok. Right here!”

  “You are welcome to,” Potok said. “But you will not kill Kirk nor Spock. The freighters are repaired and have withdrawn. Enterprise has withdrawn as well.”