“I don’t know,” Kirk said. “Are you confessing?”
“Don’t play games with me, Captain.”
Kirk kept walking, limping. “It’s not a game, Corrin.”
Corrin followed Kirk. “Then why did you want me on this dive?”
Kirk heard the anger beginning to build in the man, thought it was about time. “I wouldn’t have known where to look for this place.”
Corrin’s tone was indignant. “I didn’t know. In fact…I tried to look in the wrong place.”
Kirk had reached the new opening, shone his beacon light inside. “I know. And because you wanted me to search in one direction, that’s why I chose to look in the exact opposite direction. And here we are.”
Kirk looked at Corrin long enough to see that his suspicions had been correct: Corrin had known about this temple—or at least the possibility of its existence—from the beginning.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Corrin said.
“I know that, too. I don’t pretend to understand Bajor. A culture that hasn’t changed for forty thousand years? I don’t understand the Prophets or the Celestial Temple or why the Cardassians came here or why they went away. I don’t understand the Orbs. When you come right down to it, I don’t understand the whole damn universe.
“But what I do know is that a good friend of mine is dead. Not because of Bajor or the Prophets. But because of greed. Because of someone who wanted to be better than someone else, not by accomplishment, but by force. That arrogance I do understand. And that I know how to deal with.”
Kirk stood by the dark opening in the cavern floor, his beacon now on Corrin, knowing that the moment he had planned had come.
Corrin seemed to sense it, too. There was a steadiness in his eyes that he had hidden up till now. Kirk had seen that expression before. In the eyes of killers.
“It’s not greed, Kirk.”
“It’s always greed,” Kirk said. “Wanting something so others can’t have it. It’s just that what some criminals want isn’t always treasure.”
“I want justice!” Corrin’s rising voice shook the cavern.
“And I’m the one who’ll make sure you get it.”
Corrin slapped his hand to the bolt gun on his leg, drew it from its holster with the swift expertise of a trained marksman. Held the deadly underwater weapon with its pressurized dart aimed directly at Kirk.
“They’ll never find your body,” Corrin said.
Kirk gave a sharp laugh. “That’s what they said the last time.”
“This time, they’ll be right.”
Corrin’s finger tightened on the release.
Kirk didn’t flinch.
And then everything changed.
Because Jean-Luc Picard called Kirk’s name.
Chapter Twenty-Six
U.S.S.ENTERPRISE NCC-1701, MANDYLION RIFT, STARDATE 1008.5
“THIS CANNAE WORK!” Scott said.
On the hangar deck, Kirk looked up from fastening the molecular seals on his silver environmental suit. “Of course, it can. And it will. Every part is tried and true,” Kirk said. “The only thing that’s different is that we’re putting them together for the first time.”
“Aye,” Scott said as he watched his engineers at work. “That’s why it needs a full systems analysis! Months of computer study. Simulations! Models and test flights!”
Kirk took his chief engineer by the shoulders. “Mr. Scott…we don’t have months. We have thirty minutes. Maybe less.”
“I think it will work,” Sulu said. He smiled at Scott. “The physics of it are sound.”
“Aye, physics,” Scott complained. “We’re basically throwing a rock off the back of the ship, so of course the physics will work. The thing will fall! Not much can go wrong with that.”
“Mr. Scott,” Kirk said, “Captain Pike used to tell me you were a miracle worker.”
Scott moaned, rubbed his hand through his hair, making it stand up in spikes. “I’d have to be to make this dog’s breakfast work.”
“But you will make it work, won’t you, Mr. Scott?”
“It’s not as if you’ve left me with a choice.”
Kirk decided that was about as strong an endorsement as he could expect, and continued putting on his suit.
Just as the engineering team had completed taking the photon detonator out of a Mark II torpedo casing, Spock arrived.
“You can’t be serious,” he said to Kirk.
“Why not?” Kirk said. “It doesn’t break Norinda’s rules.”
“Because you’ve created a whole new set of rules.”
Kirk shrugged. “At the Academy, did you ever take the Kobayashi Maru test?”
“No. I presume you did.”
“When I get back, remind me to tell you a story about rules.”
“In all honesty, I do not believe you will come back.”
“Mr. Spock, the only reason I am doing this is because I do believe I’m coming back. Furthermore, I am coming back with Lieutenant Tanaka. And you will do everything in your power to support me in that endeavor, do you understand?”
To Kirk, it almost seemed as if Spock suddenly struggled to control his emotions. “Captain, why are you doing this?”
But unlike Spock, Kirk had no need to disguise how he felt, and he let Spock see his anger. “Would you do it?”
“No, sir.”
“Then that’s why I have to.”
Spock set his jaw, and Kirk had the impression that the Vulcan was glaring at him. “It is not logical.”
Kirk sighed. “Spock, it is logical. It is the only logical thing that we can do. We’re all alone out here. Like it says on that plaque at the Academy: Where no man has gone before. What does it matter if we come out here, without also bringing our humanity with us?”
“You forget I am a Vulcan.”
As if you’d let me, Kirk thought. “And don’t give me that. Piper says Vulcans are the most passionate species in the galaxy, and I’m beginning to suspect he’s right. You put on a good show, but there’s something inside you that knows exactly what I’m doing, and why I’m doing it.”
Spock remained silent, made no further protest.
And that was when Kirk knew he had him.
“For all this to be worthwhile, Spock. For our five-year mission to mean something, for Starfleet to have a reason to exist, for the Federation to even dream of a day when all the worlds are united…none of that can happen unless we, the four hundred and eighteen people on this ship, each one of us—man, woman, Vulcan, human—brings our humanity with us.
“Otherwise, we might as well send robots and draw up hundred-year career plans that take us from Point A to the grave without ever allowing ourselves to be distracted by the wonders that are all around us.
“Otherwise, we’re just Mr. Scott’s rocks dropped off the edge, falling at the mercy of physics, with no chance, no hope, of ever finding out if we can fly.”
Spock nodded, as if considering every word. “You are a hopeless romantic.”
That Kirk could accept. “I’m impressed. You didn’t even ask permission to speak freely.”
“Considering you are about to die, I think we are beyond that, Captain.”
“You won’t get rid of me that easily.”
Spock sighed, a strange sound to hear from a Vulcan, Kirk knew. “I am beginning to suspect you are right.”
“Give me a hand with my parachute?” Kirk asked.
“I suppose I must.”
The idea had burst into Kirk’s mind fully formed. All the pieces were there, and had been for decades. It had only taken the crucible of necessity to bring them together.
In an environmental suit that could protect him from drastic extremes in temperature, with a tricorder that would give him coordinates, a parachute from the security team’s sports equipment collection, and a photon-torpedo shell that could withstand the stresses of being launched at warp speed, Kirk had everything he needed to reach the surface of
the fifth planet. Without a shuttlecraft.
In a sense, he would be his own escape pod.
And Norinda had never stated any rule about that.
It was quite fitting that the way they chose to launch him was in the simplest way possible: clearing the hangar deck, opening the pressure doors, then lifting the torpedo shell with a tractor beam, and guiding it into space.
Kelso brought the Enterprise onto the proper orbital track, and then, at the precise time and speed required, the tractor beam released the shell, and Kirk began his long fall.
The ride was rougher than he had anticipated, but his tricorder showed that the heat of atmospheric entry was nowhere near the operational limits of the torpedo shell.
The only difficult part of the maneuver came when his speed dropped below the speed of sound for the thin atmosphere of the frozen world. That was when Kirk popped the shell open and it abruptly fell away from him, even as he sped forward and began to tumble wildly.
He fought as hard as he could to force his arms and legs into a spread-eagle position to stabilize his fall, and finally, only a few seconds before he was to open his’chute, he achieved level flight.
It was magnificent, seeing a new world slide past beneath him, hearing the frigid wind scream past his helmet, listening to Spock giving him the countdown over his helmet communicator.
“Any word from Norinda?” Kirk asked impatiently. For five minutes of his fifteen-minute drop through the atmosphere, the incandescent heat of his passage had prevented his communicator from transmitting or receiving.
“She says she is impressed,” Spock reported. “She wants to know what you call this new game.”
Kirk thought about it for about two seconds. “Orbital skydiving, I suppose. Tell her I’d like to play it against the Klingon.”
“Five seconds to parachute deployment,” Spock said.
They counted down together.
The ’chute opened more violently than Kirk had anticipated, knocking his breath from him. But he maintained control and with Spock’s navigational instructions, he was able to land directly between the two shuttlecraft at the base of Norinda’s mountain.
“How’s Tanaka’s status?” Kirk asked as he began running toward the mountain. Since he wasn’t in competition, he’d be able to climb faster than Kaul or Tanaka had been able to. The two antigravs he had strapped to his sides would see to that.
“The lieutenant reports that he is within five meters of the summit,” Spock transmitted. “He sees the flower Norinda placed there.”
“How about Kaul?” Kirk asked. He stopped at the base of the mountain’s first slope and switched on the antigravs. They worked to give him a weight of only twenty kilos—enough to give him traction on the rocks, but light enough to make enormous leaps.
“The Klingon is two meters below him, about ten meters away, following another path up.”
“Tell Tanaka I’ll be up there in five minutes,” Kirk said. Then he made his first leap and flew ten meters up the mountain to a solid ledge. “Make that four minutes,” Kirk amended. “This is going to be simpler than I thought.”
Uhura’s voice came over Kirk’s helmet speakers. “Captain, if you’re going to be coordinating with Tanaka, I think you should all be on the same channel.”
Kirk agreed. There was a buzz of static, and then he heard Tanaka’s labored breathing.
“Lieutenant Tanaka, it’s Captain Kirk.”
“Hi, Captain…thought you had taken…the rest of the day off…”
“No such luck. I have to rescue you first. How’re you doing?”
“Not so good, sir…ten minutes of air, maybe…getting cold.”
“I’m right below you. I’ve got extra air and a couple of patch kits for your suit.” Kirk sighted on his next target ledge, and jumped again, another eight meters up the slope.
“Pretty amazing, sir…coming all this way…”
“Pretty amazing for us all,” Kirk said, keeping the conversation going. “And we’ve all got a long way to go yet.”
“Yes, sir…”
Kirk made three quick jumps that brought him up to a small level area another forty meters up the mountain. He saw some of Tanaka’s pitons driven into the rock face.
Then he realized that Tanaka’s breathing had changed, become weaker, slower.
“Lieutenant? Are you still there?”
“Yeah…yes, sir…just…just trying to see what the Klingon’s up to…”
Kirk looked up through the curve of his visor. He easily found Tanaka’s small silver form near the summit. But he couldn’t see Kaul.
“Can you see him?” Kirk asked.
“No, sir…he…he was swinging on a rope…I don’t know…maybe…d’you think he fell…”
That would be easier, Kirk knew. But if Kaul had fallen, Kirk would have seen it.
He peered up the summit again, past Tanaka, to the left, then the right, and then—
“Tanaka! This is Kirk! Kaul is coming up from the other side of the summit! He’s swung around to your right! You have to get moving! Now!”
Kirk watched in numb apprehension as he saw Kaul’s bloodred form swing around the narrow summit, then land feet first against Tanaka’s back!
Kirk heard Tanaka’s gasp.
“Tanaka!” Kirk shouted. “Get out of there!”
“Captain…” the young man wheezed. “He’s trying to rip off my—”
There was a sudden rush of wind, then silence.
“Tanaka!”
Nothing.
“Spock! Lock onto him!”
“Captain, Norinda has said she will destroy us if we beam Tanaka back!”
“I don’t care, Spock! Beam him back and warp out of here! Now!”
“Spock to transporter control…Lock on to—”
“No…” Kirk said.
Above him, tumbling like a child’s silver toy.
Lieutenant Tanaka.
Falling.
“Lock on, Spock! Lock on!”
“Transporter control cannot get a fix…. Tracking, tracking…”
Kirk cried out as Tanaka’s body hit a ledge and bounced and arms and legs flopped and his helmet spun off, flashing in the dull light of the distant, dying star.
“We cannot get a fix,” Spock said. “We’ve lost him.”
But Kirk hadn’t lost him.
Lieutenant Hounslaw Tanaka now lay unmoving on the wide ledge beside Kirk. His exposed face was already dusted with crystals of ice. Vapor slowly twisted from his eyes and from his open mouth and nose, as if his spirit knew it was time to move on.
Kirk cradled the young man in his arms, glanced up, as if to follow that spirit.
At the summit, Kaul’s red form held Norinda’s flower over his head, waving it triumphantly.
It was over.
Kirk had lost.
* * *
Kirk piloted the Galileo to its pad on the hangar deck.
Spock and Piper were waiting there, along with an honor guard for Tanaka.
Kirk felt numb. He didn’t think that would ever change now.
He watched Tanaka being carried away.
“It’s my fault,” he said.
Neither Spock nor Piper corrected him. Neither Spock nor Piper said that such things happen, that it was an accident, that it was a roll of the cosmic dice.
Lieutenant Tanaka had served upon the Starship Enterprise, and he had died in that service. And so there was only one person to blame.
The captain.
“Something you should know,” Piper said. “This might have been the first time. But it won’t be the last.”
Kirk made his confession. “That’s what frightens me.”
“What?” Piper asked. “That you don’t think you can live with it?”
“No,” Kirk said sadly, “that I can.” He looked at Spock. “That if I’m willing to take the risk, then everyone else has to be willing, too.”
“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Piper said.
“It all depends on what you get from taking that risk.”
“I don’t know,” Kirk said. “Especially not this time.”
Spock and Piper remained silent beside their captain.
But this wasn’t the time for reflection.
“Come on,” Kirk said. “We have to warn Starfleet about the Klingons’ new toy.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
BAJOR, STARDATE 55598.1
“…JIM…”
The voice was weak. It barely carried in the dead air of the underwater cavern. But it electrified Kirk just as if a chorus of Klingons had shrieked it in his ear.
Kirk didn’t think of Corrin Tal, a handful of meters away, bolt gun aimed and ready to fire.
He spun around to the source of the sound.
Looked down.
Into the opening in the cavern floor, filled with dark water.
“…Jim…is it you…”
Kirk’s beacon swept into the opening, followed the rough rock wall, and there—
Picard!
Embedded in the gray rock of the wall, pale face looking up, blinking in the light of the beacon.
“Jean-Luc!” Kirk ran as quickly as he could on his tightly braced leg, lay flat on the cavern floor, and reached down his hand.
Picard’s hands clasped his.
Kirk had a flash of falling, only seconds from Bajor and death.
Picard’s hand had saved him then.
The circle was complete. Or, more likely, ready to begin again.
“Where is this place?” Picard asked. His reedy voice a whisper. Kirk felt the trembling in his friend’s ice-cold hands.
“A cavern beneath Bar’trila. Hold on.” Kirk pulled.
Picard groaned. “I’m stuck in something.”
Kirk changed position to use both hands. He was aware of Corrin moving closer, but paid him no attention. He wasn’t important now.
“You were caught by a rayl fish,” Kirk said as he grasped both of Picard’s wrists. “It’s waiting for you to decompose before it comes back for you.”
“How encouraging…”
“Now!” Kirk shouted, and yanked with all his strength.
Picard came free with a cry of pain.
Kirk scrambled, pulled, and Picard was on the cavern floor, shivering, soaked, wearing only half of his shredded Bajoran shirt because the other half was still cemented to whatever hardened secretion the rayl fish had used to affix its prey to the rock wall.
Captain's Peril Page 26
