“Agreed. There’s no real chance of a court-martial.”
“That’s for the panel to decide, Antonio. But I will be surprised if they decide differently.”
Delgado turned to the window overlooking the plaza in front of Headquarters, currently filled with protestors waving holographic signs. “Still . . . look at them. Half of them want Kirk’s head on a platter, the rest want him to run for office. And both sides have councillors pandering to them. Either way this goes, there will be political fallout.”
Nogura sipped his tea. “There’s a way out.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“Promote the son of a bitch.”
Delgado nodded in comprehension. “Of course. Bump him up to a desk job. It looks like a reward for his years of service, and it keeps him out of trouble.”
“Something like that. But more. Kirk’s made fine decisions in the field. He’s a gifted commander, a leader who inspires great loyalty. Granting him responsibility over more than just one ship would be a genuine boon for Starfleet.”
“And his gift for oratory, his celebrity, would make him a good face for Starfleet here at home,” Delgado added.
“Yes, there is that.” Nogura smirked. “Heaven knows the limelight is not something I crave. That’s what I have Ciana for.”
“It could work,” Delgado said. He took care not to make his approval any more effusive, sensing that Nogura would not respond well to any appearance of sycophancy. After a few quiet moments, he asked, “What happens to his ship?”
“Ahh,” Nogura sighed. “There we are. You want the Enterprise’s engines for yourself.”
It was true what they said: the old man missed nothing. “The benefits to Federation science could be incalculable, sir. Not to mention the security benefits, if we can master time before our enemies do.”
The admiral held out a hand. “No need to sell me, Antonio. I see the value in the research.” He finished his tea and set down the cup. “But the Enterprise is the highest-profile ship in the fleet right now. If I just hand her over to you, it will attract the kind of attention that your project needs to avoid.”
“If I may, sir, you’ve already found the answer to that. Make it look like a reward. Announce that, in honor of the great service done to the Federation by the ship and her crew, the Enterprise will be the first capital ship refitted with the new generation of engine and technology upgrades. I don’t need the whole ship, sir, just the warp drive. The upgrade would involve a complete replacement of the warp assembly anyway, so its removal would appear to be simply part of the refit process.”
Nogura pondered. “That’s a little premature, Antonio. Michelson and Jennings won’t be ready to proceed with a full-scale starship refit for months yet.”
“That’s the advantage of pitching it as a symbolic gesture, sir. People will accept that as a reason for waiting. And one other thing: I know Jim Kirk. He won’t take easily to the idea of giving up his starship, settling down on one planet. But he loves the Enterprise, sir. It will make him more cooperative if he feels his ship is being rewarded.”
The old man pondered. “It’s a reasonable suggestion. If nothing else, taking his ship out of service would make his promotion to a ground post seem a more natural progression.”
“So you’ll approve it?”
Nogura rose, compelling Delgado to follow. “I know you want to travel into the future, Antonio, but don’t start getting ahead of yourself yet. All this is hypothetical until the panel makes its ruling. I respect that, even if I know what they’re going to decide.” Delgado could understand that sentiment from a man as perceptive as Nogura. It seemed that he always knew what other people were going to do before they did it. The least he could do was extend them the courtesy of letting them actually do it before he reacted.
Still, Delgado found his response a little too noncommittal. “Sir, you already said you recognize the value of this research.”
“I do, Admiral,” Nogura replied, the title warning Delgado that any pretense of informality was over. “But I also recognize the risks. You’re just a little too eager to get your hands on those engines. Can I trust you not to be reckless with them once you do?”
Delgado gave a wan smile. “You don’t have to trust me, sir. Everything my team does will be carried out under the close supervision of Director Grey and her Department of Temporal Investigations.”
“True, true. But they answer to the Science Council, and you have many friends there.” Nogura’s steely eyes locked on his. “So if I do give you the Enterprise’s engines, I think I will also keep a close eye on what you do with them.”
Delgado swallowed. This was one man he had no chance of finessing or maneuvering.
Well, in that case, he thought, I’ll just have to make sure I bring him some very impressive results.
VI
Earth Spacedock
Stardate 7061.9
May 2271
It broke Montgomery Scott’s heart to see his beautiful Enterprise split open, her own heart in the process of being excised. The whole rear third of her secondary hull had been opened up along the top half, the roof and sides of the hangar deck largely removed, to facilitate the process of removing the warp nacelles, their pylons, the engineering complex below them, and the warp reactor below that from the ship as an integrated unit, gingerly eased free by a fleet of boxy yellow work bees.
Next to him, Commander Willard Decker clasped his shoulder. “Look at it this way, Scotty—it’s not like we weren’t going to do the same thing ourselves in a few months’ time.”
“Aye, I know,” Scott replied, taking any sting out of it by smiling a bit beneath the mustache that Glynnis, his lass back home, had talked him into growing. Decker was a good man, personally selected by Admiral Kirk to supervise the refit process. He was command track, just off a four-year stint as first officer of the Boston, but he’d done his share of time in engineering and understood the meat and marrow of a ship. And as the son of the lamented Commodore Matthew Decker, whose sacrifice had helped save the Rigel colonies from an ancient doomsday weapon, he deserved respect.
And Decker was right. Breaking down a ship’s hull, pulling out key components, and plugging new ones back in was a standard part of a refit process. The Enterprise didn’t have the same bridge module, warp nacelles, deflector assembly, computer core, or hangar doors that she had possessed when Scott had first come aboard her six years ago. It was more than just the pieces that gave a ship her identity, her soul; it was the work put into her by her builders and caretakers.
“But this,” Scott went on, gesturing out the viewport of the control deck where they stood, “it’s not part of the job we’re here to do. It’s just . . . pulling out her guts so she can be stuffed and mounted.” It would still be months before the refit was ready to begin. The prototypes of Michelson’s new swirl-chamber intermix reactor design and Jennings and Minor’s upgraded nacelles were still in testing, and Doctor Swansea was still refining her phase-transition bonding technique, which would allow the Enterprise to be given a shimmering new skin of superstrong crystal-tritanium plates. And in the interim, Starfleet wanted the Enterprise made accessible to a public still caught up in the mystique of its now-famous five-year mission, still fired by the controversy of Jim Kirk’s Prime Directive hearing and his subsequent promotion to rear admiral. Once the engines and their control systems were removed, they would be replaced with old, non–flight-ready backups and the keel would be sealed again, so that the ship could spend the next several months on exhibit in the Smithsonian’s orbital annex. “Put on display for the gawkers so they can tromp all over her decks, get their grubby prints all over her . . .”
Decker chuckled. “They are putting in partitions to keep the patrons away from the equipment. It’s strictly look, don’t touch.”
“Aye, it was a figure of speech. Just the idea of it feels unclean.”
“Funny,” Decker said. “I would’ve thought you’d want to show off
the old girl.”
“Aye, I’d be glad to give a grand tour to anyone who can really appreciate her construction. But a bunch o’ tourists who are just there because o’ the nonsense they heard about Captain Kirk in the press . . .” He shook his head.
But Decker knew him too well. On the surface, Will was a Starfleet poster boy, clean-cut and golden-haired and cleft-chinned, but inside him was the soul of a poet. He had a gift for empathy, for making connections with people of all sorts. And he was a good enough listener to hear what people weren’t saying. “Or maybe what’s really bothering you is where those engines are being taken.”
“Aye.” Scott looked back out the window at the enclosed Spacedock bay beyond, its yawning volume atypically empty for security reasons, evacuated of all ships but the Enterprise and the tugs that would haul its engine assembly away. “An honorable retirement is one thing, but this . . .”
“Is better,” came a new voice. Scott and Decker turned to see Admiral Delgado approaching from the other side of the control room, where he’d been supervising the dismantling. “This way, your remarkable engines can remain in active service, doing immeasurable good for the Federation.”
“You mean bein’ dissected and transformed into God knows what for your unnatural time experiments.”
Delgado chuckled. “I wasn’t aware warping space to travel faster than light was natural. Or walking and breathing inside a metal box in outer space. Time is just the next frontier.”
“Don’t mind Mister Scott, sir,” Decker said to the admiral, trying to smooth things over and to gently remind Scotty to keep his cool. “This is an emotional moment.”
“No hard feelings, Commanders,” Delgado said. He moved closer to the Scotsman. “Indeed, I’d really like to assuage your concerns about what we plan to do with these engines, Mister Scott. I’d be glad to clear you to visit our research facilities. You know those engines and their quirks better than anyone. Your insights could help us immensely—and you could supervise the care and treatment of the engines, ensure for yourself that they’re in safe hands.”
The request was nothing new. Indeed, since the Enterprise had returned to Earth, the admiral had already poached a number of its personnel, including Bill Hadley, who had assisted Scott and Spock in the cold restart at Psi 2000, and Frank Gabler, Scott’s assistant chief in the final year or so of the mission. “With all due respect, Admiral, I’ve said no before and I’ll say no again. I’ve done as much mucking about with time as I care to. And it’s not what those engines were meant for.”
With an eye on Decker, he went on. “Besides, the Enterprise still needs me. Those engines . . . they aren’t part o’ her anymore. You’ve seen to that, sir. And the rest of the old girl . . . ohh, do we have plans for her.” Scott and Decker shared a smile. Decker was a man with big ideas, and he’d inspired Scotty to take a good look at Michelson and Jennings’s refit plans and then look beyond them. Their plans involved a substantial restructuring of the secondary hull of the ship: the new vertical warp reactor would be brought forward, connecting directly to the impulse engines as well as the new warp nacelles, with the pylons mounted farther forward and swept back to compensate. The navigational deflector dish would be replaced with a new inboard system with a dedicated fusion reactor, eliminating the need for the massive power transfer conduits that had connected the old deflector dish to the warp reactor; and the support struts and shock absorbers for the dish would be integrated with the hull superstructure, giving it a fuller, rounder shape toward the fore. A new torpedo launcher assembly would be installed at the base of the dorsal, taking advantage of the same structural bracing to allow a more powerful firing mechanism. All this would clear up interior space for larger hangar and cargo facilities, letting the ship go longer between supply layovers.
But the plan called for leaving the primary hull relatively unchanged, aside from an updated bridge module, weapons, sensor domes, and hull plating. Scott had found himself thinking lately that maybe that was a missed opportunity. Indeed, with more powerful engines, the warp geometry might even be better with a wider primary hull, allowing improved turboshaft and conduit placement as well as more extensive living and working space. He’d had some preliminary conversations with Commodore Probert of the S.C.E., a man with some cutting-edge ideas that he was eager to explore further.
Looking between them, Delgado sighed. “Very well, Mister Scott. I can see the two of you make a good team, and I have no desire to break up that kind of a rapport. But I just want you to rest assured, Commander, that I will treat your engines with the utmost respect. And I hope one day to convince you of the value of my work with them.”
He extended a hand, and Scotty was enough of a man to accept the peace offering and mumble some polite words in return.
But later on, as he watched the detached engine assembly get towed out the Spacedock doors and off to parts unknown, Scott found himself more and more reluctant to let things stand.
Starfleet Headquarters, San Francisco
Stardate 7062.5
May 2271
“I’m sorry, Mister Scott,” said Rear Admiral James T. Kirk. “There’s nothing I can do about it.”
Scott hardly recognized the man who faced him from across a desk cluttered with data cards, slates, and hard-copy printouts. Gone was the decisive, youthful man who’d skippered the Enterprise; in his place sat a subdued, distant, slightly harrowed figure. Scott pleaded with him, hoping to connect with some remaining spark of the Kirk he’d known. “But, sir, you’re the chief of operations. Surely you can—”
“And Delgado is chief of Science Ops. We’re equals, Scotty. I run my department, he runs his. I can’t overrule him.”
“But, sir, it’s the Enterprise. There must be something you can do.”
Kirk sighed, then rose and gestured at the big screen on the side wall, showing the deployment and status of all the ships and fleet resources he was responsible for maintaining and coordinating. “As much as I wish it were otherwise, the Enterprise is not my ship anymore. Now I’m responsible for the entire fleet. I have to decide where its resources are best utilized. I know how you feel about those engines, Scotty, but these days I have to consider the bigger picture.”
“I see, sir,” Scott said tightly. “Then that’s why you delegated the refit to Will Decker instead o’ seein’ to it yourself?”
Kirk gave him a sharp look. “Why? Do you have a problem with Commander Decker?”
“Why, no, sir!” Scotty replied, wide-eyed. “He’s a fine man, no question about it. It’s just that . . .” Just that you haven’t even been to see her since you were promoted. Not even once. “Never mind, sir. It’s not important.” He recognized how petty it sounded. The captain—the admiral—did have a lot of other matters on his mind. First the hearing, his reputation simultaneously dragged through the mud and exaggerated into a caricature of glory. Then Mister Spock’s sudden departure. After the hearings, the crew had been given extended leave, and Spock had gone off to Vulcan and simply never returned, resigning his commission and (as far as Scott knew) sending only the most cursory of farewell messages to his former crewmates. Then Doctor McCoy had resigned as well, his way of protesting Kirk’s removal from starship command, and though he’d stayed in touch, he’d spent most of the intervening time reconnecting with his daughter Joanna, and was now preparing to ship out on an extended research mission to study the advanced medical knowledge of the Fabrini. Scott supposed it hadn’t been all bad for his former captain; in addition to gaining his new rank and responsibility and the ear of Admiral Nogura, he’d entered into a serious relationship with Nogura’s aide, Lori Ciana. In principle, Scott was glad to know that Kirk had found someone, but looking at him now, it didn’t seem to have made him any happier.
“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” Kirk was saying. “In fact, I’ve been seriously thinking—based largely on your reports—of giving Will Decker the Enterprise.”
Scott blinked. “Sir? You mean . .
. as the captain?”
Kirk smiled, though there was a hollowness in his eyes. “He’s eminently qualified. He’s smart, dedicated, thinks big, and he’s earned my trust as well as yours.” The admiral spread his arms. “And who better to command this revolutionary new ship, once it’s done, than the man who supervised its construction?”
“I . . . think that’d be a grand idea, sir.” And that was true, as far as Decker was concerned. He would be a fine choice for the command of any ship, and Scotty would be proud to keep serving under him. But still . . . he wasn’t James Kirk. And seeing Kirk talk about handing the reins of his ship over to another man . . . it felt like he was washing his hands of the responsibility. Like he was treating the Enterprise as an ex-lover who’d left him, going out of his way to avoid her.
No, that’s not fair, Scott tried to tell himself. He was just upset because of Delgado’s nonsense with the engines. To be honest, it was unusual for any officer to command the same ship for more than a tour or two. And even if Spock had stayed in Starfleet, he always said he had no wish for command, and Scott surely didn’t either. So passing it on to Decker, who had become Kirk’s protégé and Scott’s friend, felt like the best way of keeping it in the family, even if Decker was a recent addition. Still, Captain Pike had held the Enterprise’s center seat for nearly a dozen years. It just didn’t feel right for Kirk to surrender it after only five.
He realized Kirk had said something while he’d been distracted. “Come again, sir?”
“I said don’t tell Will. It’s not final yet, and I’ll want to break the news myself.”
“Oh, of course not, sir.” He fidgeted. “So . . . there’s really nothing you can do about Delgado?”
Kirk sighed again, resuming his seat behind the desk. “I can try to keep an eye on what he does. Though it won’t be easy. It’s a high-security operation, and Delgado’s had little time for me since I spoke out against his project.” He gestured at the clutter on his desk. “Besides, my own plate is full. We’re still investigating the destruction of the Zheng He, plus I need to redraw the patrol routes to compensate for the loss, while at the same time making sure that doesn’t compromise relief efforts to Mestiko and Sherman’s Planet. On top of which, the Klingon-Romulan alliance seems to be disintegrating, and we need to be ready in case Federation worlds get caught in the crossfire.” He threw up his hands. “I’m sorry, Scotty. Maybe I can assign someone to monitor the situation with the engines, but I just can’t make it a priority right now.”
Star Trek: DTI: Forgotten History Page 11
