The Fearful Summons

by Denny Martin Flinn

  Chekov made another move, and again the female looked at Chekov before answering. There was a long pause. Kirk was tempted to interrupt, but he knew it would be rude, and in any case he had no good advice to give for Chekov's next play. Finally Chekov sighed, and moved his king. Quickly the female picked up her knight with long, delicate fingers and deployed it. Then she looked up at Chekov and smiled faintly.

  "Checkmate," she said.

  Chekov frowned. He studied the board. "You're right." He pushed his king over on its side with a snort. "I hope you won't mind payment in—"

  "Any currency will do." She smiled. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a number of multicolored, exquisitely etched bills, and handed them over. She rose as she took them.

  "Thank you," she said. Then she walked away. Kirk watched her as she gracefully disappeared into the crowd. Chekov was staring at the tridimensional playing field. Then he sat back and gave a long sigh.

  "Boje moi," Kirk heard him curse under his breath.

  "Mr. Chekov," he said quietly, "she knew perfectly well you were playing the Kolchinsky gambit."

  Chekov turned at the voice. He leapt up from his chair.

  "Captain Kirk! Captain Kirk, vhat in the galaxy are you doing here? How are you?"

  "Fine, Mr. Chekov. How are you?" Kirk looked at the chessboard.

  Chekov followed Kirk's look, then smiled with embarrassment and shook his head.

  "Well …" he said, "I thought I played this game better. But …"

  "Is this what you've been doing with your life since I saw you last?"

  "Only between assignments."

  "Then you're still navigating starships around the universe?"

  "I am. I vork for Trans-Universal Shipping. Sometimes ve transport materials, sometimes ve take tourists out for a spin around the solar system. Sometimes ve even dock on habitable planets." Chekov shrugged. "It keeps me busy."

  "Not busy enough, I suspect," Kirk said as he motioned to the fallen king. "Do you gamble often?"

  "Too often, I am afraid. Perhaps it is in my Russian blood. But Captain, vhat are you doing here? I thought you vere living hafvay around the vorld, in San Francisco."

  "I am. Just now I am in need of a good navigator, and I thought I would look you up."

  "Excellent. Just let me get my charts from my apartment."

  "I can't promise what you'll get out of this trip. If you're trying to keep up with your gambling debts …"

  "Captain, you insult me. I vould be glad to take a Starfleet assignment. Just because I stepped down to inactive status after twenty-five years in space doesn't mean I don't vant to serve the Federation."

  "I appreciate your loyalty. But I'm afraid this isn't a Starfleet assignment, and it isn't the Federation you'll be serving. Let's sit down in that booth over there, and order some food and drink. I'll fill you in."

  Half an hour later Chekov sat back in the booth and stared at Kirk.

  "If Sulu is in danger, ve must transport ourselves there at vonce."

  "We don't have a ship. Or much of a crew. But Mr. Spock has agreed to go, and the good doctor too. And I've tracked down Scotty. We're all meeting at my apartment tomorrow to talk things over. I thought you'd like to be there."

  "I vould not miss it, Captain."

  "Great. Then I'll see you there." They rose and started back through the club. Chekov checked his chronometer and looked around the club.

  "Tomorrow, you say? That gives me a few hours to try and get back vhat I haf lost here. You go ahead, and I vill see you in San Francisco."

  Kirk stopped and looked at Chekov.

  "All right. But don't lose your shirt."

  "My shirt?" Chekov was puzzled. "Vhy vould I bet an article of clothing? Who vould take such a thing as valuable?" He looked at the denizens of the club, a motley assemblage of aliens in all sizes and shapes. "And vhat possible good could it do them if they von it?"

  "It's just an ancient expression, Chekov. Never mind."

  "Ah, still interested in Earth history, are you, Captain?"

  "Right now I'm interested in getting up to Beta Prometheus. Think you can find it, navigator?"

  "If it exists in the cosmos, Captain, I can figure the coordinates."

  Kirk waved. Chekov turned toward the chess tables as Kirk headed back through the crowd of aliens toward the front door. Then Chekov turned and called after him.

  "Captain?"

  Kirk stopped and looked back at him.

  "Yes?"

  "Vhy did you say she knew I vas playing the Kolchinsky gambit?"

  "Mr. Chekov. Never play chess with a Betazoid. Don't you know? They're all telepaths. She was reading your mind."

  Chekov stared at Kirk as the realization hit him. "I vas robbed!" he said.

  Kirk waved and disappeared.

  In orbit between Earth and Mars

  High in the infrastructure of a black-glassed satellite-sphere as large as a small city, Uhura sat at the head of a huge polished table, her left hand holding a small monitor firmly in her ear, her right hand floating over a panel in front of her. Around the table, where other chairs might have been, a wall of monitors faced her. On each screen a face blinked out at her, some of them human, some not, all babbling in their native tongue. Uhura deftly held a number of conversations at once, in several different languages.

  "The Orion Nebula is undergoing firestorms and we can't get through," she said in a sweet voice. "However, let me assure you that deliveries will only be delayed one and one half of your orbits." She smiled and touched another part of her console, then spoke again in a much stronger voice. "Mr. Singh, there are over two million Federation citizens in that colony, and they are counting on you to complete the order before the rainy season, after which there will be a half-year delay before another shuttle can land there. If you are unable to meet the deadline, tell me now and I will subcontract with another company to take the load off your shoulders. . . . Yes, I thought you could. Always good to do business with you, Mr. Singh. Good afternoon."

  When she saw a familiar face pop onto a monitor, she changed frequencies again. "Harrison, I've sent you a private message on our coded subspace channel. It will be waiting when your planet reappears from the eclipse, which is half an hour from now. It includes the details you requested, but if this leaks to any of our competitors before the prototype is ready, I'm going to take it out on you, and your next assignment will be very close to the frontier." She saw the man nod, and she smiled. "On the other hand, if your product reaches the market first, I.G.S. will be most grateful, and you'll be promoted to the planet of your choice. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

  Uhura went efficiently on, dealing with requests and problems from far-flung regions of the galaxy, until she was startled by a tap on her shoulder. The office was off limits to I.G.S. personnel without top security clearance. When Uhura turned around, she was even more surprised. Behind her stood the tall figure of James Kirk, for whom she had been chief communications officer for twenty-five years.

  "Captain!"

  "Uhura. Still fluent in an awful lot of languages, I see."

  "Oh, the Universal Translator can do most of the work. But I like to keep in practice. Wait a second." She touched the console in front of her and the monitors went dark. "David?" she said.

  "Yes, ma'am," a young male voice said.

  "No calls for a few minutes."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Uhura swiveled toward Kirk.

  "All right, now, what in the world are you doing here? And while you're at it, how did you get in? This is a highly secure area."

  "Is it? No one stopped me. Come to think of it, there was some sort of sign on the door about Authorized Personnel. I couldn't think who was authorized, however, so I ignored it." Kirk was looking around the room, impressed by the luxurious furnishings, the floor-to-ceiling windows that held a view of the galaxy, the enormous desk. "This isn't a Starfleet operation, is it?"

  "Oh, no, it's far more confidential
than that. It's I.G.S. Headquarters."

  "I.G.S.?"

  "Inter-Galactic Systems. I'm Senior Vice President in charge of Procurement and Delivery."

  "Why all the secrecy?"

  "Industrial espionage. There are very sensitive issues coming through my desk."

  "Really? Such as?"

  "Some of our subsidiaries are on the cutting edge of technology. If another corporation even guessed at the nature of a new product, it could mean years of research and development down the drain."

  "But technology patents are only good temporarily. Then they become the property of the Federation anyway."

  "Trillions in value can be earned in that time. Additionally, we want a new product to be identified with us. It's good for company moral, and good for business."

  "I didn't realize. I don't suppose I ever knew much about business. Maybe I ought to start thinking along those lines, now that I'm a civilian."

  "I noticed that, Captain. You're not wearing your uniform. And here I thought you'd have made admiral again by now."

  "I left active service when the Enterprise was decommed, same as you. Came here on a private starship, as a matter of fact. Sat in the back and hoped the crew knew how to handle her. It was an unusual experience, I can tell you. I haven't actually been off Earth since returning. Until today, anyway. So, this is what you do, huh? At a desk all day." Kirk looked around.

  "It's an enormous responsibility," Uhura said with a touch of pride. "Many colonies depend on us for their very survival."

  "Oh, sure, sure. I didn't mean—"

  "Never mind, Captain. Tact was never your strong suit. I'm a bit busy here just now," Uhura said as she gestured at her video screens. "I've been monitoring the press reports. Why don't you just tell me what's up with Sulu?" Is he in real danger?"

  "Could be. A few old friends and I are going out there to see if we can be of any use."

  "What friends?"

  "Oh, Mr. Spock, for one. And Dr. McCoy. And I just enlisted a navigator …"

  "Chekov?"

  "How did you know?"

  "I think I hear something taking shape in all this. You'll need an engineer."

  "Oh, yes. Well, Montgomery Scott said he wouldn't mind helping out. So …"

  "And a communications specialist, of course."

  "Of course."

  Uhura smiled. She pulled out the little ear monitor she had been wearing and set it down on the console. She touched the desk. The monitor screens in front of them lit up with the words PLEASE STAND BY.

  "Okay, let's go," she said.

  "What about your new career? I don't want to inhibit you from taking your rightful place in the business world."

  "I'll take a sabbatical. Out of loyalty to Sulu, of course."

  "Of course."

  As they headed for the door, Uhura said to Kirk, "Just how far away is this Beta Prometheus?"

  "Very far. It's in the frontier. It was just being charted when all this happened."

  "Uncharted, eh? I wonder what language they speak? I expect it will need decoding."

  "I'm sure it will," Kirk said, as he hurried ahead. A metallic voice chimed in the room just as they were leaving.

  "The Vice President is in a meeting. Please leave your message, and your call will be returned."

  Day Six

  San Francisco

  THE NEXT MORNING was Sunday. Kirk woke up early and went directly to his communications monitor, where he had flagged any news items that contained the words Beta Prometheus, Sulu, or the U.S.S. Excelsior. There wasn't anything new. In fact, there wasn't anything at all. Kirk suspected that, probably for diplomatic reasons, a shroud of privacy was descending slowly over the issue. Even the nonpublic Starfleet channels to which he still had access did not have any updated information on the status of the "incident" on Beta Prometheus.

  Turning to his personal channel, Kirk found only a note from Barbara O'Marla, asking him to meet her at Poseidon, an upscale bar overlooking the starcraft wharves, at 1800 hours that night, when she got off work from Starfleet Headquarters. He knew his visitors were arriving during the day, and didn't want to make a commitment he would have to cancel, but when he tried to call to speak with her she was not in her office or her room. In the end he had to leave a message for her on her monitor. He hoped she wouldn't show up at the destination without some confirmation. He took a long shower while he thought over what he would say to the four men and one woman who would be gathering that afternoon, then made himself some authentic coffee. He sat in the comfortable captain's chair that faced the great window overlooking San Francisco Bay and did what he had often done in the last few months when he found himself restless and with time on his hands. He idly watched sleek starcraft dock and depart from the port below his window. Sometimes, looking through his televiewscope, he looked at the great Starships hovering just beyond Earth's atmosphere, waiting for the smaller ships to ferry them a crew.

  After an hour or so, and a breakfast Kirk fixed himself, the door chime sounded for the first of six times.

  By noon, everyone was assembled. They were all enmeshed in exchanging stories of civilian life, when Kirk spoke up.

  "I know everyone is happy to see old friends," Kirk said. "But maybe we'd better begin. I believe I've told you most of it already. Captain Sulu was taken hostage just under a week ago by a group of thugs from a star system known as Beta Prometheus. They have fabricated a spying charge. The Federation is engaged in diplomatic conversations with the leaders, but the facts are that nothing is happening, and from what little bits of information about the Prometheans I have been able to unearth, I am not at all sanguine about the position Sulu and his comrades are probably in."

  "Sanguine?" Scotty frowned.

  "He's pissed," Uhura decoded.

  "Extremely," Kirk appended. "Sulu is rotting in these pirates' jail, under who knows what kind of conditions, and Starfleet will not get him out."

  "In fact their hands are tied," Spock said from his position by the window. Everyone turned to look at him. "They cannot engage in an act of aggression unless it is sanctioned by the United Federation of Planets. And the Federation prefers to negotiate. At least for the time being."

  "Diplomats!" Kirk snorted.

  With that a silence overcame the room. Finally Spock spoke again.

  "In any case, as I understand it, you propose to go and, shall we say, take a look?"

  "Exactly."

  "Sounds like a very good thing to me," Scotty said. "We should fire up our engines at once."

  "Count me in," Chekov said.

  "And me," Uhura said.

  "I don't," McCoy said, "want to be a wet blanket, Jim. I am packed and prepared to volunteer my services. I know we are all anxious to help out Sulu. But as I understand it"—here McCoy nodded toward Mr. Spock—"this is not a Starfleet mission. That poses all sorts of problems. What sort of actions can we take out there on our own? Is the Federation going to sanction our mission, or stand in our way? We are all, remember, inactive. We could find ourselves with the welcome of ants at a picnic. Finally, and I ask this in a spirit of optimism of course, how in hell are we going to travel several sectors into deep space? Federation Starships with warp-drive capacity are not given away as door prizes. And they require a large crew. As I look around myself, I see a number of trustworthy if ancient comrades from the Enterprise. But only six in all. What in God's name can we do?"

  Having come all this way on a wave of enthusiasm, they were brought up short by the pessimism expressed by the doctor. They sat in silence for a while. Kirk then got up out of his chair and faced them all.

  "I don't know. I don't know what we can do. I guess I gathered you all together more out of frustration than a specific plan. But I simply can't stand by and do nothing. Let's take it one step at a time. Here's what I propose. Scotty, you and Mr. Spock will spend the afternoon looking for transport. Bones, you and I will see if we can dig up the latest on the situation. I know a young press rel
ations officer who might be willing to bring us up to date. Chekov and Uhura, you get the navigational charts we'll need, and any background you can dig up on the Beta Prometheus star system and that part of the galaxy. We'll all meet back here at 1900 hours. We'll discuss our options then. Would that be all right?"

  He looked around the room. Everyone nodded. In a few moments the apartment was empty.

  Chekov and Uhura strolled along Starship's Wharf on their way to the Maritime Museum where, in a private attic room upstairs to which Chekov's membership gave him access, there was an outstanding collection of navigational maps and guides. There was also a port on-line to the Central Reference Library of the Navigational Research Division at Starfleet Headquarters. But it was the private collection that made Chekov choose this particular location to access the information they would need. More than one official constellation map had mistakes in it, and often vast amounts of galactic space were uncharted altogether. Although Starfleet had been organizing information for almost two centuries, only a small portion of the vast galaxy had been explored as yet. Information poured in to Headquarters daily, but even the true size of the universe had yet to be identified, and vast amounts of space, hundreds of galaxies, and millions of planets had yet to be properly classified, or in some cases even identified. Chekov often found that in the collections of small, private organizations there were ancient logbooks and archaic essays by early galactic travelers that gave him information he might otherwise never see. And in the wisdom of the early Starship captains he often came across minor remarks that helped him with the eccentric and eclectic pathways of travel, especially those beyond Federation boundaries. For all the streamlined efficiency of the Starfleet Central Reference and its vaunted Memory Alpha, the fact remained that, not unlike the early days of covered-wagon travel across the original United States, each Starship was mostly on its own in uncharted routes through the vast universe.