The Fearful Summons

by Denny Martin Flinn

  The six travelers dematerialized.

  When they found themselves on the small transporter platform in the stern of the Plush Princess, everyone began talking at once.

  "Where do we stow our gear?"

  "Where's the command bridge?"

  "Is there a synthesizer? I forgot to eat breakfast!"

  "Where will our first destination be?"

  "Does this beauty have shields?"

  "Gee, I hope we don't get this carpet dirty."

  "Where'd you guys get this toy, anyway?"

  "What's her top speed?"

  "Where's the communications workstation?"

  "All in good time," Kirk laughed. He led the way through the narrow corridor of the lower level. He raised his voice and cut through the hubbub.

  "There are only four living quarters aboard the Princess. We'll have to share. On the other hand, they are all state-of-the-art staterooms, and I think you'll be pleased. Since there's seven of us, I've allotted this room"—he stopped in the corridor and nodded to an archway—"to Dr. McCoy on the basis of, uh, seniority."

  "He means I'm the crabbiest, and no one wants to bunk with me. Thanks, Captain."

  "You're welcome, Bones. Call me Jim. I think perhaps we're all in this little adventure together, and while we ought to run our ship along our usual lines of command and duty organization, there's no need to be overly formal." He walked on as the door slid open and Bones stepped gingerly into his small but well-appointed sanctum. "Now, on this side we have another stateroom with its own bathroom, so I have assigned that to Uhura and Barbara. Thus affording them a bit of privacy.

  The ladies stepped into the room. Uhura looked at Barbara.

  "Care which bunk is yours?"

  "No, you go ahead."

  Uhura threw her duffel on the bed. "All right. This looks like a pretty nice space. Small. But we'll get along."

  "You must be used to larger quarters."

  "The old Enterprise was pretty nice. Not so well cushioned, but larger. And the viewports for the senior officers stretched up to the ceiling."

  "You must miss it."

  "I guess I do. I suppose that's why I signed on to this mission. Do me a favor, will you?"

  "Sure, anything."

  "Stop me if I reminisce too much. I don't want to sound like one of those fat old admirals sitting around the Flag and Grog talking about the good old days. Heck, you're probably better trained than I ever was."

  "I doubt it. Can I tell you something?"

  "Of course—communications is my specialty."

  "I'm just a little scared. I've been on some training missions, but never gone outside of the solar system. Never stepped foot on any planet except Earth. Traveling into deep space has always been a dream. A fantasy. Now that it's a reality, well …"

  "I understand. It wasn't that long ago I was exactly the same. Came from a couple of local schools in Kenya. Read a lot of offworld literature, but never really dreamed I could become a Starfleet officer. I suppose I've never gotten over the thrill of being accepted into the Academy. Don't worry. You'll do swell. You couldn't ask for better mates on your first assignment. And there's no better navigator than Chekov."

  Farther along the hall, Kirk had pointed at two adjoining staterooms, each featuring bunk beds. "These are ours," he said to the remaining three men. "We share the bathroom facilities here in between. We can divide up any way we want."

  There was a pause, as the four of them stood awkwardly in the connecting general quarters to the two bedrooms. Kirk thought for a minute that for a crew that had traveled together for twenty-five years, they didn't appear to be very close. It crossed his mind that he probably hadn't shared many moments of nonofficial discussion with any of them. In fact, he couldn't think of one. Spock broke the silence, however.

  "Captain, you and I can bunk in here, and leave that side to Mr. Chekov and Mr. Scott."

  "Fine," Kirk said, and the little group broke up.

  Everyone busied themselves stowing their gear. As they had brought only the bare necessities, this took little time. Kirk stepped out into the hall and climbed up the shiny circular staircase that threaded the narrow space and took him one flight up and onto the command deck. He found Bones already there.

  "Jim, there's no medical quarters."

  "No. Let's hope no one gets seriously ill. You can set up on that deck behind us, if you like."

  "The aft space lounge? Looks like it's for owners who like to be pampered by their servants."

  "At least you'll be comfortable. Although I'm afraid the ship didn't come with any servants."

  The others arrived on the top deck one after the other. Kirk pointed out the amenities.

  "Uhura, I think that corner over there can be yours. Most of the communications gear seems to be in that wall. We'll have to bring over a stool from the lounge. These three chairs here will be ours. I'll take this one in the center if that's all right. Mr. Chekov, that one will give you the easiest access to the ship's navigation terminal."

  Chekov sat down at once and began loading information into his port from the disks he had brought.

  "And this one is for our new helmswoman." Kirk was well aware that their relationship had taken a significant turn when she had signed on, but was unsure of just where things stood. "Congratulations on your first assignment, however unorthodox it may be. Please take the conn."

  "Thank you," Barbara said quietly, and immediately sat down. For the next half an hour she hardly heard a thing going on around her, as she tried to familiarize herself with the main control and display panels of the small ship. She played her fingers over the sensor matrix and ran a program that tested her thrusters. Then she input several experimental warp-speed instructions and watched as the subspace information flew by. It all seemed quite like her hours of experience in the Academy simulators, and in a short time she felt comfortable. Then suddenly she realized that she would be responsible for boosting the ship right through the Earth's atmosphere and locking on to its first navigational target. Almost immediately thereafter she and the navigator would take the ship to warp speed. And it wouldn't be a simulation. A small sweat broke out on her forehead. She looked over at Chekov, who was delighting in the superspeed information displays the modern star yacht provided him. When he looked up, he smiled. He looked at her knowingly. He winked. She felt better already.

  "There's no science station, as you can see, Mr. Spock," Kirk was saying. "But I thought you might be comfortable here"—Kirk touched a chair that had its own console—"where you could use this terminal to access whatever we have in the ship's memory banks. Also, Uhura can hook you into Memory Alpha, so you can access pretty much whatever you want."

  "Thank you, Captain. This will be quite adequate." Spock had already logged on and began testing the ship's ability to sense atmospheric pressures, life signs, and gravitational pull.

  "We do have shields, you'll all be happy to know. They wouldn't deflect a simple nuclear-powered missile from the earliest days of atomic warfare, but they'll keep our hull impervious to the traditional flotsam and jetsam of the galaxy. All right, then. Is everybody ready here?" There were silent nods from the command deck. "Scotty?"

  "I think I've got the engines under control, Captain," came the familiar voice. "But power is limited, so don't ask me to strengthen her shields," he warned Kirk. "They're not designed for any kind of battle. They're good for keeping the hull shiny and new, but that's all. Also, we don't have any torpedoes at all."

  "We're not going into battle, Scotty," Kirk said. "We're just going out there to take a look. Well then, Mister O'Marla. She's all yours. Let's take her into planetary orbit at once. One-quarter thrust ahead."

  Barbara's fingers flew over the panel. The ship tilted toward the outer atmosphere. Kirk watched Barbara as the ship moved gracefully away from the Bay and headed up at ever-increasing speeds. There was a jolt, and the ship lurched forward so quickly everyone was thrown back in their seats. By the time they strai
ghtened up, the ship was floating gracefully in the dark and eternal blackness of space.

  "I'm sorry. She got away from me for a moment," Barbara said apologetically to everyone on the bridge.

  "Considering that was your first nonsimulated launch in an unfamiliar ship, I think you did awfully well," Kirk said. And he began a short round of applause that brought both a blush of embarrassment and a deep swell of pride to the young helmsman. Of whom he found himself unnaturally proud as well. He kept his faced composed, however, even as he felt his heart beat for her.

  Moments later the Plush Princess was streaking across the galaxy on a direct heading—supplied by Mr. Chekov from his research of the previous day—to Starbase 499, the nearest Federation base to the planetary star system known as Beta Prometheus.

  Sulu regained consciousness slowly. He first felt the hard floor he was lying on, then the soft material under his head.

  "Captain?" the ancient voice whispered. Then again, louder. "Captain?"

  Sulu saw Dr. Bernard Hans on his knees on the floor next to him.

  "Are you all right?" Hans said.

  With an effort, Sulu lifted himself up to his elbows. He felt his joints crack.

  "You were stunned," Hans said. "How do you feel?"

  "Well," Sulu groaned, "that's how I feel. Where is everybody?"

  "Right here. All the men, anyway. They took Ensign Violet Bays and Engineer Nora Schmidt away."

  "I remember now. Where are we?"

  "In a room of some sort. Don't worry, it's dark for all of us. There are no windows."

  Sulu looked around. In the dimness he made out the figures of Lieutenant Roose, Cadet Spiros Focus, Chief Engineer Norquist Svenson, and the others. He climbed to his feet, several pairs of hands helping him.

  "Actually," he lamented, "I think this hard floor was worse than the phaser shot. How long have I been unconscious on it?"

  "Twelve to twenty-four hours. It's hard to say. There are no chronometers, and the little light doesn't ever seem to change in here."

  "Any idea where we are?"

  "Not really. Maldari returned with a bunch of Klingon soldiers—"

  "Klingons!"

  "Afraid so. He and another Beta Promethean who dresses all in black brought them. We were all hustled out of the shuttle and across a junkyard, and piled into a Klingon ship. A Bird-of-Prey. We carried you. We landed in some sort of freight and warehouse dock, but not a busy one. It was practically deserted. We're in one of the warehouses now. Some sort of room inside."

  "Any way out?"

  "You wouldn't have had to lie on a hard floor for a day and a night using my jacket as a pillow," Hans said as he picked up his jacket and shook it out, "if there were. The boys have been over every inch of the place. Even up there." He pointed at the ceiling. "Stood on each other's shoulders. Damn fine acrobatics went on, you should have seen it. But they found nothing. Our captors use the one door. Solid as a rock. Actually, harder, that's just an expression. Doesn't even have a handle on our side. They've given us some food from time to time, and this stuff to drink, but nothing else." Hans handed Sulu a cup of thick liquid. "It's not bad. You better drink some."

  Sulu looked around him at each of the men.

  "Everyone all right?" One at a time they nodded. "Spiros, your arm?"

  "It's fine, Commander."

  "Well then, here we are," Sulu said. Though all of his officers were brave men, and all of them had substantial training in survival techniques on alien and inhospitable planets, they were scientists, engineers, navigators. He didn't think they could last long under inhumane conditions. He felt entirely responsible for them. "And my fault, too," he added ruefully.

  Everyone was quick to challenge him.

  "No, no, not at all. You mustn't blame yourself," Hans said. "All part of the assignment." He looked around the dim room with a grim smile on his face.

  "Why do you think we haven't been beamed out of here by now?" Lieutenant Roose said. "I mean, where the hell is Sencus and everyone?"

  "Probably these bastards threatened to harm us if Sencus didn't withdraw," Hans said. "As for beaming, they took our communicators, and the Excelsior may have little idea where we are. They moved us just after Sven sent out our coordinates. Anyway, I'm afraid these walls might be transporter-proof. It seems a sensible thing for a prison. I'm sure Starfleet will be able to extricate us. Though we may have a fair amount of time to kill."

  "I'll tell you what," Sulu said. "While we wait, why doesn't Swen lead us in some exercises?"

  There were some groans from the less-fit members of the little group.

  "Come on, everybody," Sulu said, uncomfortable in his necessary role of cheerleader. "It will help keep us fit. And exercise is essential to mental health."

  "Clearly then," Dr. Hans said to Spiros as he joined the group assembling in the center of the room, "these heathen hosts of ours are out of shape."

  Starbase 499

  The artificial city floated in stationary orbit several parsecs from the Beta Prometheus star system. Its fifty floors of activity bustled in normal times. The addition of the response teams for the Prometheus incident made it virtually hectic, and so the arrival of the small star yacht the Plush Princess caused little notice. The spacedock commander wasn't even at the docking port when Uhura quietly requested permission to dock.

  "This is the Plush Princess, requesting a spacedock," she called when they came within hailing distance of the starbase.

  "What is the purpose of your visit?" the assistant docking officer said routinely. Uhura looked up at Kirk, who frowned.

  "Vacation," she finally said lamely. There was another pause as the docking officer must have wondered what was worth visiting in this obscure part of the universe. Fortunately for Kirk and company, other, larger ships required his attention at the time.

  "Permission granted," the voice came back. Seeing the size of the Princess, he assigned her an obscure berth in the corner, read out the coordinates, and subsequently forgot about her. But just before he did, he requested the name of the ship's captain.

  "James Kirk," Uhura said. Then the yacht sped through the gate and headed for its assigned berth in the great spacedock. As it did, all of the crew, at their viewports, took note of the three huge Starship cruisers that were hanging in space near the entering port, armed and ready. Lights blazed from their ports, and activity was brisk and businesslike.

  The Plush Princess, which had dropped to the use of only its thrusters just before entering the spacedock, glided to a smooth stop, and Kirk requested that all but the artificial-gravity and life-support systems be shut down.

  "I think we should all thank and congratulate Cadet O'Marla on the completion of her first deep-space voyage," Mr. Spock said quietly from his seat in the rear of the control deck.

  "Here, here," McCoy said as he came forward from his rear lounge.

  "Well done," Kirk said quietly.

  Barbara beamed inwardly. "Thank you," she said.

  There was a pause, and then Uhura asked the question that was on everyone's mind.

  "Well, now what?"

  Kirk stood and saw them all gathered on the control deck. He announced the plan that had been formulating in his mind since their launch.

  "Now I think we all deserve a drink," he said.

  "Good idea," he heard McCoy and Scotty say.

  "But Captain," Chekov said. "Ve've come such a long way. Aren't ve going to … I don't know … do something."

  "We are," Kirk said. "Because just about everything that happens on a starbase is talked about on the rec deck. If we hang around there, we ought to hear all the gossip, which is as good a place to start as any. Keep your ears open, particularly for anything on the state of the negotiations for the hostages. I'm sure a number of minor diplomats will be holding court in the bar at any given time. That's where diplomats usually are. Let's plan to meet back here in, say, one hour."

  The crew gathered on the transport deck, beamed over to 4
99, and wandered into the labyrinthine starbase, looking for all the world like a yachtload of tourists.

  Kirk and his friends arrived late in the evening cycle of the starbase, and the rec deck was crowded with raucous humans and aliens. Kirk noted that a dance contest was in progress, though how the judges were going to pick a winner, given the variation in style and anatomy of the contestants, he couldn't guess. The music was old age, a twenty-first-century blend of synthesized sounds and harsh percussive beats revolving vaguely around a pentatonic scale. Although Kirk himself had no particular emotional response to the music—it sounded more like noise to him—apparently the young officers and aliens who mixed freely on the dance floor found in the music, for the moment at least, a mutual bonding that transcended their cultural differences.

  The group from the Plush Princess split up. Kirk, Scotty, and Chekov were crossing the room when Scotty spotted someone he knew. Even with his back to them, Scotty recognized the broad girth and ginger hair of one of his oldest acquaintances from Academy days.

  "Flanny, you old gin-swigger, you!" Scotty boomed as he slapped the man on the back. "I thought they had laid ye ta rest years ago."

  The engineer turned around, and his pink face crinkled into a broad grin.

  "Well, well, well, Montgomery Scott, the second best engineer-graduate from the class of 2241. I thought you retired this year. Wait a minute, where's your uniform?"

  "In mothballs. I am temporarily off-duty, Flanny. And it's a pleasure, I can tell you. But I'm expectin' a new assignment any time now. Why, as soon as I get back, I bet they'll be offerin' me one of their latest ships of the line." He winked. "This is James Kirk and Pavel Chekov, my old shipmates." They shook hands all around. "Flanagan and I went to the Academy together, over 50 years ago. How about that?"