“Damage her, then! It will be the least of their losses.”
“And you say you’re nothing like the Dassik?” Kirk demanded, furious now. “You’re both the same, Tirak. Both with the same potential for peace or war, just like any other species.” He schooled himself to calm, aware that he had to defuse the situation to help Uhura. “You gave them that, Tirak. The Linnik did. You gave them twelve thousand years to develop and refine their culture. To cultivate their intelligence and reason. They aren’t brutes—maybe they never really were. They just want to survive. Just like you, they’re afraid, and they’re lashing out at the ones they fear. Don’t you understand by now that fear is not the answer?”
He turned to the other triumvirs. “Aranow. Lekur. You told me that your races were at war until the Linnik showed you a better way. That it was better to work together than to fear each other. Despite all the harm you had done to each other, you learned to set it aside and cooperate.”
“That’s right!” Aranow affirmed. “We did.”
“It was the start of . . . all this,” Lekur added.
Tirak scoffed. “You really think we can cooperate with the Dassik? Look at the ruins of the Bogosrin homeworld, a fraction of an orbit away. We can see a constant reminder of what those monsters did to our peoples, our space. We were the First! This is our space, won back from the Dassik at great cost!”
“You and the Dassik are from the same planet,” Spock pointed out. “Logically, if the Linnik are among the First, then so are they. And if they are not, then you cannot claim the title for yourself without hypocrisy.”
“We have always stood with the First!”
“You have stood together in fear. You have been ruled by it—and being ruled by fear can blind you to possibility.”
“He’s right, Tirak,” Balok said. “There is more out there in the galaxy than fear. There is wonder and beauty and awe.” He took Bailey’s hand. “There is friendship and kindness. There are people who can come together to achieve great things.”
Tirak gestured at his surroundings. “We have achieved the greatest engineering feat in the galaxy!”
“We have built the greatest trap in the galaxy. A trap for ourselves. All beings have limits, Tirak. If we stay wrapped up in our own private worlds, then we can never escape our own shortcomings, our own failings. That’s why we need to reach out to others. To trust in their strengths to balance our weaknesses, their perspectives to fill in our blind spots.”
“Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations,” said Spock. “It is when different entities combine, when they complement each other’s limitations, that new and great things can be achieved.”
“That’s what we’ve done,” an uncertain Lekur Zan said. “Found other refugee peoples, invited them to join us. Built new worlds to hold them and made our community larger. Better.”
“That’s right,” Kirk said. “Because the First Federation has always been about more than fear.” He looked around at them. “You’ve known that all along, going back to when you first founded the Web of Worlds—back when it was an ideal, a belief bigger than any physical place.” He met Aranow’s eyes. “The searchers.” Lekur. “The builders.” Nisu. “The communicators.” Tirak. “The dreamers. All limited by yourselves, but when you reached out and joined together, you became something far greater. And then you kept reaching out and taking in others, growing stronger the more diverse you became.
“It’s time to remember what the First Federation used to be about. Not just hiding from danger, but reaching out. Making connections. Building something greater than what you had before.”
“With the Dassik?” Tirak asked in disbelief. “They could never belong with us.”
“They’re a people in need, Tirak, the same as all of you once were. They’ve lost their homeworld just as you did. Now they’re damaged, dying, desperate to find answers that only you can give them. The only reason they feel they have to take those answers by force is because they can’t believe you would ever offer them freely.”
“Then let’s offer them!” Aranow cried. “They’re willing to talk. They’ve said so. They’ve asked for our help! War isn’t our way, Tirak. Even before. Your ancestors didn’t kill the Dassik. Just made them peaceful. Made them like you.” She reached for him. “Do you want to be like them?”
Tirak’s eyes darted. “No. No, I am not the threat. I am protecting us.”
“You’re mad if you actually believe that at this point,” Lekur said. “You’re holding your own colleagues hostage, you pitiful man! You’re trying to make that poor woman destroy her own ship!”
“Please,” Aranow said. “Let’s try. At worst, we have a defense now. The radiation belts. But only if we need them,” she hastened to add. “We should try peace first. Like we always have.”
“First,” Balok said, shaking his head slowly. “We pride ourselves on that. We were here first! It’s our ruined wasteland, nobody take it! But that’s not all that it means. We are the First Federation. The first known group of races in modern history who joined together in peace and agreed to work together for the good of all. Now we’ve found another Federation that follows our example. And they don’t need to hide from the galaxy, or from their own past, in order to make it work. So maybe we don’t either. After all—we were doing it first.”
Tirak looked around. Even many of his own troops looked uncertain—and Uhura’s defiance of Mure seemed to be getting stronger. Now the Kisaja warden was sweating.
Finally, the aging Linnik sighed. “Mure, release her. All of you, stand down.” Kirk doubted that Tirak had truly been convinced—but he was enough of a politician to see that he could not win, and that his best bet was to reorient his message. It would do.
But that would not satisfy Nisu. “Protectors. Place Triumvir Tirak and Warden Mure under arrest.” Several of the protectors who’d just been following those two’s orders hesitated. “Unless you want to join them!” Nisu barked, her eyes flashing at them. They hastened to comply.
Kirk jogged over to his communication officer. Crouching before her, he clasped her shoulders. “Uhura! Are you all right?”
She was breathing hard, but she managed to muster a faint smile. “I thought of . . . music. Focused on . . . songs. It let me hold on. Blocked him.”
He grinned. “Lieutenant, I think I’ve been underestimating you.”
“Thank you, sir. Still . . . if Mister Spock could spell me . . . I could use a rest.”
“Of course.” Kirk helped Uhura to her feet while Spock slipped into her seat and took over the process of stabilizing the Web. “Spock, can you take care of things from here?”
After a moment’s evaluation of the console readings, Spock said, “The work of automating the stabilization process is almost complete. I should be able to finish compiling the program . . . provided there are no further disruptions.”
Kirk turned to the triumvirs. “Then I recommend you contact War Leader Vraq . . . and tell him you’re ready to talk.”
* * *
Grun awoke in an unfamiliar bed in a gray-walled room. He heard a repetitive thumping tone from overhead, the pace of which quickened as he twisted his head to look around him. On the wall behind his head was a black display screen with moving indicators and a red light that blinked in time with the thumping tone. “Wha . . . what is this? Where am I?” He struggled against the restraints that held him to the bed.
A craggy-featured human in a blue tunic approached. “Calm down, Grun. You’re all right. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Grun struggled harder. “I fear nothing!”
The human’s voice sharpened. “Then why don’t you start acting like it?” Startled by the sting of that verbal cuff, Grun took a breath and stilled himself. “That’s better,” the man continued. “I’m Doctor McCoy. You’re in my sickbay aboard the Enterprise. And you’re lucky you
have such a strong constitution, or you’d be in the morgue instead. Even I can only do so much.”
“You . . . you healed me? Why? I am your enemy.”
“No,” the doctor replied. “You’re my patient.”
“There are no enemies here anymore,” came a new voice. It was that traitor Rhuld, coming into the room with the accursed Kirk at his heels. Rhuld towered over the humans and was unrestrained; he could easily have torn them to shreds. Yet they stood alongside him without concern.
Kirk elaborated on Rhuld’s words. “War Leader Vraq has declared a formal cease-fire, in exchange for which the Council of the First has released its records of the genetic change imposed on the Dassik people. The First Federation’s scientists are already hard at work on devising a permanent cure, with the assistance of my own science officer.”
“No! Rhuld, you fool! It is another of their deceptions. They will lead us to our doom!”
“We were already heading there ourselves,” Rhuld countered. “Not just due to the mutation, but due to closed and hateful minds like yours. Your blind rage almost brought about the extinction of our civilization along with theirs.”
“Better to die as proud hunters than become like them! Indecisive . . . cowardly . . .”
“Thinkers. Scholars. Capable of more than primitive bloodlust. That is the gift the Linnik gave us—the time to grow into more than we were. You would regress us back. You would condemn us to death . . . and make us deserving of it.” There was no gloating in his eyes or his voice—only the weight of an unwelcome obligation.
Kirk spoke up. “The revelation of what the Linnik’s ancestors did to ensure the First Federation’s survival has been . . . sobering to its people. It’s making them reassess a lot of their old assumptions about themselves and about you. Every society has shameful things in its past. It’s harder to be judgmental toward others once you recognize that within yourself.”
“And yet they will judge me now,” Grun countered. “Punish me for the crime of fighting for my people.”
Rhuld leaned closer. “You fought for your own pride, Grun. You were a fool and a bully. You tormented and killed your own crew. I would love to see you executed.” He steadied himself with a breath. “But the First have a higher claim to you. And so you will rot in their prison instead. Perhaps that is a crueler fate after all.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” said Kirk. “I have it on good authority that their penal system is about to undergo some major reforms. I’m certain you’ll be treated well, Grun. Who knows? You may even learn to like it on Cherela. It’s a truly beautiful place.”
Kirk’s optimism disgusted Grun. He could not imagine a more terrible fate than to spend the rest of his life trapped within that sickly blue-white planet, staring at him from all around like his father’s ruined eye, forever judging him.
Later on, though, as he lay alone in that bed with the pulsing thump keeping him awake, he could not elude the thought that stalked him through the shadows of his mind: that the only part of Grun’s father that had come to Cherela had been what Grun himself had brought here. If anyone was keeping that cruelty and hatred alive . . . perhaps it was him.
Yet he retreated from the thought. It was easier, more comfortable, to cling to his hatred of Vraq, of Rhuld, of Kirk, of the betrayers who would now have him at their mercy. All of them were against him. The whole universe conspired to hold Grun down and humiliate him at every turn. But he would not give in. He would never stop fighting his countless foes, never stop hating them.
For Grun feared nothing.
Epilogue
“I can’t believe it,” Aranow said. “I’m looking at Cherela. From the outside!”
Kirk stood beside her, grinning at the childlike awe in her face and body language as she gazed down on her home from the Enterprise’s forward observation lounge. She barely seemed aware of the tranya glass in her hand, though she hadn’t dropped it yet. “Seeing your planet from space for the first time has that effect on most people.”
“But it’s more than that,” she said. “Most of us . . . we never thought we would.”
“More like we were afraid to,” Lekur Zan said from where he stood on her other side. He hovered near Aranow like a protective father, making Kirk wary of getting too close to her. “We thought it was safer on the other side of the clouds. Turns out we were wrong about that.”
“And you are seeing it as it has never appeared before,” said Spock. “The cloud patterns are already changing—beginning to reflect the presence of the Web beneath.”
“So all the galaxy can see what a unique and beautiful world you’ve created,” added Uhura, standing next to the Vulcan.
“It is beautiful,” Balok breathed from beyond Lekur’s bulk. “I have always thought so. So bright and blue, against the endless black beyond. A fragile thing that must be nurtured and respected.”
“And it will be,” Lekur affirmed. “Now.” He cast his gaze out at the nearest of Cherela’s large moons. “But maybe it won’t be alone. If we’re not going to hide anymore, then maybe it’s time we reclaimed one of our old lunar bases, refitted it as a support base for visiting ships. The systems will be fried, but the vacuum will have preserved them well.” He let out a low, growling sigh. “Who knows? After what happened here . . . maybe some people won’t want to stay in the Web anymore. We can make it safe again, but for some, the memories . . .” He paused in remembrance of the many who had died. “It might help to have an alternative. Maybe we could return to our old homeworlds, have a try at making them habitable again. After all, we’ve gotten pretty good with biospheres.”
“To see this space blossom with life again,” Kirk said, “would be inspiring. Our Federation would be glad to help.”
“Well, don’t get ahead of yourself. It would be the work of centuries. And it’s our responsibility.” Lekur snuffled. “We keep insisting this is our space . . . it’s time we did something more than just keep out intruders.”
Balok laughed. “Now, that will be a relief. I can’t tell you how tedious border patrols could be.”
“Oh, I think we have some idea,” Kirk replied.
The Linnik sighed. “Still, I will miss the Fesarius. Now, that is a beautiful orb.”
Dave Bailey smiled down at him. “Linar and the rest will take good care of her, Balok. Sorry—Triumvir Balok!”
The newly appointed triumvir shook his head, now bared of its command headdress. “Oh-h, don’t remind me. I don’t look forward to cleaning up the mess Tirak left.”
“But there will be rewards, Triumvir,” Spock said. “Such as the challenge of negotiating the peace between the First Federation and the Dassik.”
Balok stared up at him. “You have a strange definition of ‘rewards,’ my friend.” Then he laughed. “No—you are right, of course. If I can play a part in healing that ancient wound . . . in reconciling our Jekyll with their Hyde . . . then that will be a fine legacy to leave.”
“It will be a worthy challenge!” Kirk turned at the declaration from Koust, who raised his glass in tribute. He was staggering a bit, though he insisted that no mere Linnik drink could overcome him. “Luckily, you will have me here to assist you.”
“Are you sure this is what you want, Koust?” Kirk asked. “To become a diplomat instead of a fighter?”
The Dassik sobered as best he could. “I am the one Dassik who has earned the trust of the First. I must be the true face of my people, to replace the false faces in their nightmares. Only then can I begin to bring us together.” He gave a fierce grin. “Cherela will be a boon to the Dassik. The cure is only the start. There are many untamed lands within the Web, wilderness modules where we can hunt and sate our nature without the need to strike at Starfleet or Betelgeusians or others. And even the well-populated worlds of the Web are less tame now than they were. They will need rescuers and builders for a long time to come. In t
ime, we could even join in Lekur’s project to reclaim the worlds our ancestors devastated. I have learned that it takes far more strength and courage to build than to destroy. The Dassik will find plenty of opportunities to test ourselves—by serving life instead of death.”
Kirk shook his hand. “I’m proud to know you, Koust.”
The Dassik laughed. “As well you should be!” He slapped Kirk painfully hard on the back, then went back to the bar for a refill.
Aranow moved closer to Kirk’s side, ignoring Lekur’s glare. “He’ll sure keep things interesting,” she said.
“Better you than me,” Kirk said, rubbing his shoulder. “I can only take so much Dassik enthusiasm.” She laughed, and he looked at her. “I was really hoping you might decide to come with us, you know. Let me show you the galaxy.”
She stroked his cheek. “I’d love that. But I still have to finish my term. As a triumvir. Duty, you know. And like Zan said—rebuilding our worlds could take centuries. Might be a while before any of us get out there. You know. Into the rest of the galaxy. Where you all are.” Kirk nodded. “Well, except Nisu. Good to have at least one emissary. Isn’t that right, Nisu?”
The graceful Kisaja strode toward them, finally out of her security garb and adorned in something more aesthetic, as befitted a diplomatic envoy. “I will certainly try my best, Triumvir. It is . . . unnerving . . . to leave the home I have always seen as a constant. But I have learned . . .” She turned to meet Spock’s eyes. “I had let my isolation become a trap. It made me too vulnerable. Too limited in my options. I need . . . to get away from that. I welcome the opportunity to expand beyond my limits.”
“Maybe I’ll join you someday,” Aranow replied. “Once my term is over. Then, maybe, if I’m not too busy rebuilding things, I’ll come out into space. Deeper space. Visit the Federation. Yours, I mean. The United one.” She pulled Jim closer. “And I’ll find you. However far you travel—I’ll catch up.”
After the kiss that followed, Kirk felt as intoxicated as Koust. Though he sobered instantly when he realized there was a huge Bogosrin looming over him with arms crossed.
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