"About quare places all over the universe. About people that kin read your mind from standing across the room, and others that kin put strange thoughts into your own head. About trees that kin walk, and machines that kin take you back in time. All nonsense if ye ask me. People kin nay be that different just because they do na live on Earth. It's only hoo-man."
"Well, Scotty always did have a vivid imagination." Kirk smiled. "I don't think I'd take him too seriously. Thank you for your help. I don't think I'll wait though, if you don't think it's too far a walk?"
"I do nay think it is, but then, I do nay go flyin' round the heavens in machinery, either. Ye look like ye could use the exercise anyways."
"Yes, you're right, I'm afraid. Too much city living. North two vales and three paths, then? All right, thank you. Good afternoon."
Kirk spent a pleasant thirty minutes walking north along the Scottish roads. He calculated the two valleys and three small paths as best he could. Most of the area was uninhabited, though he could see the tops of habitats nestled back among the trees here and there. Finally he turned up a slim path and followed it as it wound through trees, then paralleled a creek for a few hundred yards. Coming out of the woods he saw a simple geodesic dome tucked into a clearing, a perfect glass hemisphere, the green trees and blue sky reflected in the glassy walls. The exquisite, utterly simple technology was impressive, particularly so far from the nearest urban center. He knew at once he had come to the right place.
The end of the path stopped in front of one of the dome's panels, but it was indistinguishable from the others. He could find no way of announcing himself except by knocking on the thin, opaque glass, which he was reluctant to do. Then he noticed a sliver of red light cutting the path at knee level. He walked through it and heard a metallic voice announce "Visitor at the main entrance" from inside the dwelling. He waited. The voice repeated the message. After a few minutes he gave up, and began to circle the dome.
Behind the building he found a large, grassy patio. At the far end hung a hammock of reeds hung between two enormous trees, well shaded by their foliage. Lying on his back on the hammock, his loud snoring keeping the birds away, was Kirk's old friend, Montgomery Scott.
Kirk tiptoed over to the sleeping engineer, looked straight down into his face. He noted the three-day beard, the jowly cheeks, the red nose.
"Engineering!" Kirk shouted.
Scotty's eyes shot open and he looked directly into the bright sun. The dark shadow of a man stood next to him.
"Huh, whazzat?" he said, bringing his hand up to shade his eyes and knocking himself in the forehead with it. "Ooch," he complained, and closed his eyes again.
Kirk moved slightly to block the sun and throw a shadow on Scotty's face. Scotty opened his eyes tentatively. This time he saw James Kirk.
His face jumped, his eyebrows arched, his mouth twisted up into an enormous grin.
"Captain Kirk!" he shouted. He tried to raise himself up, but the hammock swayed with the change in gravity, and Scotty lost his balance, flopped over the side, and landed facedown in the grass.
"Oof!" he muttered.
"Commander Scott, what in God's name have you been doing with yourself?" Kirk said to his back.
Scott rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows. He smiled up at Kirk.
"Not a damn thing." He grinned. "Not a goddam thing. Aye, Captain, it's a glorious life."
A few minutes later they were seated in the shade of the dome on two comfortable cushions of air that rose from vents in the grass.
"Scotty, you amaze me," Kirk said as he glanced worriedly at the ground beneath him. He tried to put his hand on whatever it was that he was sitting on, but his hand only passed through air. "What the heck is this thing?"
"It's not but a wee thing I've been tinkering with. The column of air adjusts itself to your weight, and the heat to your body temperature. When you get up it goes off. It's quite safe, I can assure you."
"Amazing."
"It's got one small bug, however. Because you can't see it, my guests are stumbling over it all the time."
"I guess you'll have to work on it a bit more."
"That I will. Though between my naps and visits to the pubs, I dinna have much time." Scotty chuckled. "Now, what is it that brings you so far away from civilization?"
"Have you heard about Sulu?"
"Nae, I have not. What's wrong?" Scotty's face clouded over. "Is he not still captain of the Excelsior?"
"He is. But he and his crew have been taken hostage."
"What! Klingons? Why, I knew those—"
"Not Klingons, Scotty. Some two-bit space pirates operating out of a small, obscure planetary system called Beta Prometheus. They've taken nine of the Excelsior's officers hostage, including Captain Sulu. The Federation is negotiating for their return, but as yet it isn't even clear exactly what they want. It's possible that their government isn't even really in control of the situation. There's very little news coming out of the sector, and I'm getting worried that they're going to rot there for a long time unless something is done. But Starfleet can't act without a directive from the Federation, and for complicated reasons, the Federation is being ultracautious."
"How far is this Beta Prometheus?"
"Far. In the frontier. Sulu was exploring deep space beyond the border."
"So …" Scotty's face broke into a sly grin. "The only way to get there is by Starship at warp speed. And you're thinkin' it might be friendly-like to go up and see for yourself what's happening?"
"Exactly."
"And ye'll need a good engineer."
"I will." Kirk grinned.
"Would you accept me as a volunteer?" Scotty said.
"I certainly would, Mr. Scott."
"Then I'll join you."
"And leave this idyllic life behind? You looked like you were enjoying yourself enormously."
"I'll tell you a secret, Captain Kirk. This easy life isn't all that it's cracked up to be. I'm not complainin', mind you. After all the running around the universe I've done, it's a pleasure to have your feet on your own hammock, an ale in your hand, and all the time in the world. But …"
"But what?"
"It can get a little boring, if you know what I mean."
"I do, Mr. Scott. Indeed I do. How long do you think it will take you to get ready?"
Scotty looked down at the paunch overhanging his belt. He put his hand on his stomach, and frowned.
"Oh, three or four days, sir."
"I'll need you in one. We meet in San Francisco on the morrow."
Scotty struggled to his feet and drew himself up straight.
"I'll do it, sir."
Kirk smiled. "You always do, Mr. Scott. You always do." He returned the salute, and walked back around the path that would take him to his waiting shuttle.
New York
"I'm afraid I can't find a thing wrong with you, madame."
"But, Doctor, I'm sure there must be something you can do. I've been feeling faint for several days now, and my stomach growls at the oddest times."
"Do you get any exercise?"
"Well, no …"
"What do you eat?"
"Actually I'm rather fond of the cuisine of Gamon VII.
It's wonderfully rich and meaty."
"You're a cholesterol factory."
"You needn't be so blunt, Doctor."
"Good nutrition and exercise. That's my prescription. Pull yourself together and come back in thirty days."
The doctor left the woman sitting on the table in her white gown, and sauntered out into the hall. He wandered over to the nurses' station. A young woman at the desk looked up.
"Mrs. Melgood can get dressed." He lowered his voice and spoke to his new nurse in a plaintive tone. "Isn't there anybody really sick waiting for me?"
"I'm afraid not, Doctor."
"A case of Debellium brain rot disease? Aphasia and disorientation from passing through the Guardian of Forever? Bitten by the two-headed to
ad from Rangoren?"
"No, sir. As a matter of fact, I've never heard of any of those problems. Are you sure—"
"Never mind. They're not from around here." McCoy tapped his fingers on the desk between them and gazed over her head up into the skylight. She had seen him gaze out the window into the sky more and more lately. And always with a faraway look in his eyes.
"Mr. Zieglar is coming in at four o'clock. He wants to know if you can artificially lengthen his ankle tendons to improve his tennis. And there's a Mr. Akara who needs some immunizations. He's going on vacation in the Vornok System, and is afraid of, well, you know. . . ."
"Yes." McCoy made a noise that clearly indicated his displeasure. "A bunch of spoiled, idle people."
"I beg your pardon, Doctor?"
"My patients. Nobody is ever really sick. Well, how could they be? They all live right here on terra firma. There hasn't been any rogue bacteria in centuries. They all have their predispositions mapped at birth, and are correcting them before they even start to appear. It's disgusting."
"Actually, Doctor, New York is considered something of a paradise. Even most aliens prefer to live here when they can. I don't quite see—"
"It's boring! I'd even welcome seeing some Klingon blood! Oh, you should see it, nurse. It's pink. God knows what its biological compositry is, they won't let us screen it. You know, once I had to work on a Klingon. He was dying, right in front of me! My anabolic protoplaser did nothing. So I leaped up and tried to resuscitate him by hand! What a fool, to think that a Klingon's heart was in the same place as ours. Or that they would have one at all." He chuckled. "But that's another issue altogether."
"Did you save him?" The nurse looked at McCoy, but he was apparently thinking of something else, and staring out the skylight behind her with a vague expression once again.
"Dr. McCoy?"
"Hmmm? Oh, sorry. What?"
"Did you save him? The Klingon?"
"Oh. No. I'm afraid I didn't. And he was our last best hope."
"I don't understand."
McCoy shook his head, and stood up. "Never mind. That all seems like a long time ago now. Well, if there's no more patients, I suppose I'll go over to the Star Club and start my infusions."
"Infusions? I didn't know you were sick, Doctor."
"Of wine."
"Oh. There is one thing more. A man is waiting in your office. Not a regular patient. He said he was a friend of yours."
"A friend of mine? That's funny. I don't remember making any plans. . . ."
"He said it was a surprise visit. But he said you would know him."
"All right. I suppose someone I once met on the golf course wants some free advice. I've got to stop giving out my card." McCoy wandered down the hall. The nurse looked after him. Then she began to close down her own workstation for the day.
McCoy opened his office door.
"Now, what's wrong with—" But he stopped when he saw the smiling figure relaxed in the armchair. "Kirk! James Kirk! James T. Kirk! Well, you're a sight for sore eyes!"
Kirk smiled and stood up. They embraced, then shook hands. McCoy—who in twenty-five years of service had seldom shown much enthusiasm at all—astonished Kirk with the warmth of his welcome. He stepped back, and pumped Kirk's hand. Then they embraced again.
"My God, it's good to see you. How the hell are you? Don't tell me something's wrong with old Stone Constitution Kirk?"
"No, I'm fine, Bones. How are you?"
"Fine, Jim, just fine."
"Good."
"Well, I'm all right."
"Just all right?"
"I'm … oh, I don't know … things lately have been a little … how should I put it …"
"You're not sick, are you? You never would think about yourself. You never once looked after yourself."
"No, no. I'm healthy."
"You're in private practice, I see."
"Yep. Ministering to dowagers who want lipolifts. Prescribing for old men who've heard about the latest aphrodisiac. Once in a while I give a lecture over at the Health Science Center."
"I've done that. At the Starfleet Academy."
"You too?"
"Makes me feel old."
"Exactly! I find myself telling young kids about this or that alien physiognomy, and it makes me … oh, never mind."
"What?"
"I suppose it's silly."
"You can tell me."
"Well …" McCoy looked around, and whispered. "It makes me wish I were back in space again. It's ridiculous. Why would a man my age, after decades of bumming around the galaxy, want to go back up there."
"Wanderlust?"
McCoy looked at Kirk. "I'm afraid that's true, Jim. I've got it bad."
"I'm sorry, Bones." Kirk suppressed a smile.
"Bones! I haven't been called Bones, since … well …"
"Yes." Kirk let the silence between them stand, and McCoy looked toward his office window.
"I suppose I'll get used to it." McCoy sighed. Kirk let more silence gather. Then he said, "You don't have to."
"Don't I?" McCoy came back to Kirk. "There's not much I can do about it now."
"I think there is, Bones."
McCoy looked at Kirk suspiciously. Kirk smiled. He began telling McCoy a story in a whisper. McCoy leaned in, listening. He didn't ask any questions, and he didn't respond. But halfway through Kirk's story, he held up his hand.
"Say no more, Jim."
"We could use a good doctor. You never know what can happen, so far away from terra firma."
"You couldn't keep me away. When do we get our orders?"
"Orders?"
"From Starfleet. Aren't they going to recommission us? Are the uniforms still—"
"Bones, Starfleet didn't send me here."
"No? But then …"
"I just got tired of waiting."
Bones began to understand. "You never were any good at waiting, Jim."
"No."
"Neither was I." The doctor shook his head.
"We'll be meeting up with some old comrades tomorrow at my apartment in San Francisco. We ought to talk things over. And I don't mean old times."
"I'll be there."
Kirk stood up. McCoy stood up behind his desk. Kirk reached across the desk, and they shook hands.
"Tomorrow then. At noon," Kirk said.
"Tomorrow," McCoy smiled, and Kirk left the room.
McCoy stared at the door that shut behind Kirk for a minute, then touched his intercom.
"Mrs. Vegune?"
"Yes, Doctor? I was just leaving."
"Cancel all my future appointments. Something of an emergency has come up. Call Dr. Reiss, and ask him to take over my cases for me. There isn't much to do, he won't mind."
"Yes, Doctor. Where will you be?"
McCoy smiled. "A very long way away."
"How long will you be gone?"
"I'm not sure."
"Through the weekend, then?"
"Yes, Mrs. Vegune, through the weekend at least." McCoy turned off his intercom. Or through century's end, he thought. Who knows? He opened a bottom drawer and took out his portable medical tricorder, heartbeat reader, spray applicator, medical scanner, anabolic protoplaser, and surgical scalpels, and packed them in the antique black bag which was his parting gift from the crew of the Enterprise.
Then he danced around his desk and out the door.
The Siberian continent, Earth
Kirk disembarked from the Shanghai Expresscraft and asked directions at a nearby InfoPort. The computer quickly transferred brief instructions into Kirk's datapadd. As he strolled through the snow-locked Ukrainian freighter port megalopolis, the air was frigid and few citizens were on the street, but inside the enormous environpods he knew the city was bustling.
The streets became narrower and narrower as he followed the directions on his monitor, until he found himself walking among the long shadows of ten-story freight wharves. He made another turn down a tiny alley and came to a door
with a round mirror at eye level. In the mirror floated a hologram featuring dice in green smoke, and the words ASIAN PARADOX.It was where Kirk's former navigator could be found, according to his landlady.
Inside, the club was filled with thick smoke. Kirk squinted into the distance, but the room was long and disappeared into the fog of Cobanian cigars. He looked up. The upper floors, platforms really, were made of antigravity plasticine and floated overhead, connected to each other and the ground by suspension bridges.
A short, hunched-over alien with huge ears and bad teeth was dispensing liquids at a long bar crowded with humans and aliens of all races. Not wanting to appear out of place, Kirk managed to secure some iced Mongolian tea and held it in his hand as he worked his way among the tables. He passed the Pan Gow tables, the roulette spinning disks, the long green pits within which floated combinations of numbers changing positions and dice bouncing on horizontal energy waves. He passed tables where small groups of individuals—some whose home planet he recognized and some he didn't—played ancient and modern games of cards. In front of all the denizens of this club were personal velvet bowls filled with silver and titanium chips, gems in dazzling colors from throughout the galaxy, chunks of gold. Kirk watched the frenzied activity through the blue haze of smoke. But he knew he wouldn't find his navigator among the gaming tables. He saw the section he wanted above him, and climbed the floating stairs to the third level. Above them the great loft's windows were opaque, and the club was lit by halogen sprinkler lights, affecting a perpetual sense of nighttime.
Kirk walked by a long line of tridimensional chessboards, with rows of players faced against each other. Behind them stood various humans and aliens kibitzing quietly. No one looked up as he passed. Everyone stared intently at the boards. Up here there was none of the shouting, in hundreds of languages, or the energetic body language of the games below, only the occasional shifting in chairs and a languid arm moving a piece. After a player moved, he touched a clock between them, and sat back. But the concentration, Kirk sensed, was intense.
Finally Kirk stood behind the man he had sought out. He watched as Pavel Chekov puzzled over a move, then reached for a bishop. A female Betazoid sat facing him. She was blond, with dazzling eyes, and she looked up at Chekov before making an answering move.
The Fearful Summons Page 12
