Star Trek: Enterprise Logs

by Carol Greenburg

  I had a navigator who had never been here either, but Yevan did a commendable job following the maps. With only a few half-remembered stories about his grandfather’s funeral to guide him, he led us in a fairly direct route into the heart of the mountain range. Still I wondered if we would ever find the legendary Valley of Sorrows in the unending wasteland and thick fog.

  “Are there any landmarks?” I asked doubtfully.

  “People were here not too long ago for Collev’s tending,” answered Yevan. “If we could find some sign of that—a road or a camp—we would know where to set down.”

  I peered down at shrouds of misty clouds, broken only by glimpses of frozen wilderness. “Does it make that much difference where we land?”

  “Yes, it does,” snapped Yevan. “And we must bear my father by hand to the Valley of Sorrows.” His pale eyes narrowed. “No transporters.”

  “You’re quite the traditionalist, except when it comes to following your father’s example. He wanted to be king to prevent a war, but you don’t care about that.”

  Yevan snorted a laugh. “Come on, Captain Picard. Do you really think I would make a good king? Do you want to come to work for me as my secretary of defense? Or my chief ambassador?”

  “My loyalties are spoken for,” I answered. “As to whether you would make a good king or not, I don’t know. I don’t think you know.”

  The boy scowled and turned away from me to gaze out the window. He suddenly blinked in amazement and scooted forward in his seat. “Did you see that? It looked like a lean-to in the snow! Down there … near that big tree.”

  “Where?” I asked, peering into a sparkling white landscape of shimmering snow, blue trees, and a pervasive white fog. Not seeing anything, I doubled back around and made another pass over the same area. As if by a miracle, the clouds parted long enough for me to see a small patch of beige canvas under the frozen boughs.

  Using my sensors to guide me, I swooped through the layer of fog and glided into a meadow between two peaks. The trees were sparse enough for me to avoid them, but I didn’t know how much snow there was until we plowed into it, burying the shuttlecraft in a huge drift. We looked out the window at the curtain of white which engulfed us.

  “Nice landing,” muttered Yevan. “Now how do we get out?”

  “Venting some hot air should melt the snow,” I answered, keeping my temper with the young Andorian. “While we wait, we can put on our jackets and gloves.” Our cold-weather gear was of civilian design, stripped of Starfleet insignias.

  It took a while to melt the snow around the shuttlecraft and dress ourselves for the cold, but we managed to push the hatch open and claw our way through the drift. With considerable effort, we finally reached snow that was packed firmly enough for us to stand on. I rose unsteadily to my feet, and the cold wind plucked at my face with a million tiny tentacles.

  I gazed around at fog-shrouded foothills and twisted blue trees, but couldn’t tell one direction from another. Snow hung heavily on the tree boughs, and it also hung in the air, swirling in the sharp wind. Unreal silence graced this stark wilderness, making it seem like a vast tomb. Prince Yevan looked more thoughtful than usual, and I realized that this was the first time he had ever set foot on his homeworld. I wanted to ask him how he felt about it, but he turned swiftly and trudged off.

  “The lean-to is this way,” he said without explanation.

  In deep snow, a long-legged Andorian travels much faster than a human, I can tell you. I was trailing several meters behind Yevan when a pungent smell—like greasy wet fur—shot through the rarefied air. I whirled in the direction of the wind just in time to see a pack of dark figures burst from beneath a tree. The beasts came charging toward us, loping easily over the pristine snow.

  “Yevan!” I shouted, but my words were shredded by the wind. The animals kept coming closer—from a distance, they looked like shaggy wildebeests. As they drew closer, they looked more like wild boars with curling tusks and fangs, plus long legs. I drew my phaser pistol from my holster.

  “No, Captain! You mustn’t shoot them!” I turned to see Yevan charging me from behind, trying to deflect my phaser. I fended off his clumsy move and dumped him in the snow; then I heard frantic panting and snarling to my right. I turned to see the first creature no more than ten meters away, closing fast and lowering his massive tusks. I aimed to fire, but Yevan jumped to his feet and ran in front of me, yelling at the beasts in a language I didn’t recognize.

  His crazy act kept me from shooting, and it also surprised our attackers, who scattered as the tall Andorian ran among them, waving his hands and shouting. Now they looked like herd animals scared by a predator as they circled us and reformed in a pack fifty meters away. Yevan continued to regale them, shouting one phrase over and over again. Remarkably, the animals seemed to be listening.

  “Are you speaking to them?” I asked. “They’re kritkraws, right?”

  “Yes on both counts,” he panted. “It’s part of the Rending Chant, telling them why we’re here.”

  “And you think they understand?”

  “They’re keeping their distance, aren’t they?” He ignored me as he continued to shout into the wind in an ancient tongue, sounding very much like the monarch of this lonely wilderness. After a long while, the kritkraws loped behind a massive blue tree, where they were out of sight but within striking distance.

  I stepped in front of the lad. “Can we leave your father here?”

  “No, Captain Picard, because there’s an altar where we’re supposed to leave the fallen king.” Yevan pointed in the direction we’d been walking; then he drew a deep breath. “But I suppose we should go back and get him—there’s no reason to make the trip twice.”

  “That was quite brave what you did back there,” I told him evenly. “But if you ever attack me again, I’ll make sure you’re bound and gagged for the rest of the trip.”

  Yevan rose to his full height and smiled. “You know, Captain Picard, if you had your wish, I would be the supreme ruler of this planet. I could have you imprisoned for life or fed to the kritkraws with a nod of my head. Think about that … absolute power. Do you see me with that?”

  I looked squarely at him. “I know what power is, and you may not be as callow as you think you are. You could grow into the job, like I did. As your father found out, there’s always somebody willing to take power from you. He also found out that the only ignominy lies in not even trying to use that power wisely.”

  “Let’s get the real king,” muttered the lad, trudging back through our footprints. “By the way, if you had shot a kritkraw—even stunned it—the others would have gone into a frenzy. There’d be nothing left of us by now.”

  “We need to communicate better,” I grumbled, but he was already stomping away.

  Thurl was a large Andorian, so his body was ungainly as well as heavy, and we struggled with that container for hours through deep snow, swirling ice crystals, and dense fog. The trees were like mountains themselves—towering blue pyramids covered in snow, which dropped like fluffy bombs every few seconds. I was in the rear and kept cautious watch over the kritkraws that were following us; I resorted to a tricorder hanging from my neck whenever they were out of my sight.

  The kritkraws were out there all right, and growing in numbers. They were up to about twenty now, and there wasn’t enough of Thurl’s meager remains to feed them all.

  Yevan plowed ahead, paying no attention to our pursuers or me. By walking in his footprints, I was able to keep up, but I didn’t have a clue where we were going. I don’t know how he knew where to go, because he was no more familiar with this land than I. Yet he trudged onward with single-minded purpose. The oppressive silence and prickly wind kept me alert, although I was more concerned about the darkness; it descended swiftly, turning the white forest into a gloomy shadowland.

  I took out a handheld light and strapped it to my shoulder, but the beam barely pierced the thick fog, lighting only a few meters ahead of us. Ando
ria had no moon, but the stars came out in full glory, as glimpsed through intermittent patches of clearness. Still Yevan trudged onward, and I followed, wondering if both of us had taken leave of our senses. The setting and the cold, misty night both had the quality of a dream.

  In the fading light we saw it—the tattered remnants of a beige tarp, stretched across some poles to form a shabby lean-to. Dragging the body across the snow, we rushed toward the weathered canvas as if it were real shelter in this frozen wilderness. Halfway there, the daylight fled completely, the snow turned into driven sleet, and the temperature seemed to drop ten more degrees.

  “This is the place,” said Yevan with satisfaction, although I didn’t see anything that looked like an altar. “We can leave him here.”

  I dropped the legs of the corpse and dashed under what little shelter the lean-to offered. It was hardly better than hiding under a tree. The youth crawled in after me and removed his hat, letting his antennae uncurl to their full length. He sat cross-legged in the dim pool of light from our lanterns and looked earnestly at me. “I must chant. You can sit there, but please don’t disturb me.”

  “Go ahead.” Sitting quietly and drinking from my canteen was all that interested me at the moment.

  As Yevan chanted in the old tongue, I heard the growls outside the lean-to. I started to draw my phaser, but the lad flashed me a stern look. Nevertheless, I stayed on guard as the kritkraws ripped apart the body lying only a few meters away from us. Yevan’s strong chanting seemed to add to the unreal noises cutting through the fog on that foreboding night.

  Finally the lad finished his ceremony, and the kritkraws stopped sniffing around the lean-to and went away. He looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, “He would have appreciated this gesture. Thank you, Captain Picard, for bringing us here.”

  I shivered and rubbed my arms. “Do we have to spend the night out here?”

  “No, although some would.” He crawled past me and exited at the opposite end, away from where we had left his father. I followed after him, my hand never far from my phaser pistol. Neither one of us looked to see what remained of the container we had dragged such a distance.

  Now it was extremely dark and cold outside, and we pushed our aching muscles to get back to the shuttlecraft. At least we could retrace our footprints in the snow and know exactly where we were going. Once again, I was aware of the kritkraws following our trail, and this time Yevan was aware of them, too. Several times he barked his chant into the wind, but I wasn’t sure that words alone would keep the beasts at bay.

  In our urgency, maybe we both sensed that something else was out there, following us … watching us. I didn’t know for sure until the red beam of a phaser shot from the thick fog and punched into a nearby tree, eliciting a howl of rage.

  “Picard!” snapped Yevan. “I told you not to fire at them!”

  “It wasn’t me!” I insisted.

  We looked around, but no culprit stepped forward to admit to the crime. Suddenly a spread of phaser beams streaked over our heads, and we dove into the snow. But the unknown assailants weren’t shooting at us—they were shooting at the kritkraws, and hitting them, judging by the howls. Within seconds, we were surrounded by growling, snarling shapes, darting nervously in the fog. I tried to pick them out with my light, but I only got glimpses of them.

  Then I remembered what Yevan had said about them going into a frenzy, and I lifted my weapon just as the first one charged out of the mist. I fired blindly at the kritkraw, not hitting it until it was nearly on top of me. The unconscious animal flew past, its tusks centimeters from my chest, and its legs spun me around. As I fell to my knees, I saw another one dashing through the mist, and I shot again. I hit it, but more dark shapes were massing in the gloom.

  When they charged, even Yevan was forced to shoot, and we were soon standing back to back, sweeping the dark fog with phaser beams. The lad shouted, “Someone deliberately set them upon us!”

  Wounded kritkraws yelped as they fell, but others massed behind them, flashing through the snow like demons glimpsed in dim smoke. With frenzied snorts, six kritkraws thundered toward us at once, tusks and fur flying. We felled the first row, but more came behind them, leaping over their fallen comrades.

  I may have promised no transporters, but I didn’t promise to die. I tapped my combadge and shouted, “Picard to shuttlecraft, execute sequence one!”

  Yevan crouched down behind me, still firing at the maddened beasts. Our bodies disappeared just as the herd stampeded over our position. When we materialized on the shuttlecraft, my relief quickly turned to dismay, because four Andorians sat in our cramped cockpit, their weapons trained upon us.

  “Why couldn’t you have the decency to die an accidental death?” asked a female intruder. “Drop your weapons.”

  Yevan looked at me, waiting to see what I would do, but the female said, “Don’t be foolish. We’ve got a squadron outside and ships all over the area. Drop your weapons.”

  I did as I was told, and Yevan followed suit. There was something about her righteous bearing that I recognized. “Red Sash?”

  “Very good, Captain Picard,” said the female, rising to her feet. “I am called Jandara.”

  “Did you kill my father?” demanded Yevan.

  “No. And we didn’t kill Collev or Bregev, although it appears certain that we’ll have to kill you.” She whispered to her underlings, two of whom gathered up our phasers and crawled out the hatch into the swirling wind.

  “Why kill anyone?” I asked. “This is Prince Yevan, the successor to the throne—chosen by your own leaders.”

  “That’s all a moot point now,” said Jandara. “A faction of the Absolutists have thrown all those accords down a black hole. They’re the ones who killed Thurl, probably Collev, too. Didn’t you hear that there’s a coronation tomorrow—to crown the grand counsel, Levak, as king? We’re massing our troops, getting ready to attack the coronation.”

  “Levak!” exclaimed Yevan with a derisive laugh. “That old fraud? His claims have been dismissed countless times.”

  “Not anymore. The Absolutists obviously prefer him to you.”

  I sputtered in anger, “Don’t … don’t do this! You can’t throw away weeks of negotiations to start a war.”

  “We didn’t start it!” snapped Jandara.

  “Let me handle this, Captain,” said Yevan in a dismissive tone of voice. He smiled and mustered all of his considerable charm for the Andorian woman. “Jandara, who do you want to see on the throne?”

  “Why, General Hargrev, of course.”

  Yevan nodded sympathetically. “That sounds like a good choice to me. So allow me to take the throne for a brief time; then I’ll proclaim the general my successor—and abdicate. This is what my father did, and it’s what I’ll be happy to do. I’m just a playboy, right, Captain Picard? I’ve shown no interest in ruling Andoria, although you’ve tried to talk me into it.”

  “That’s true,” I grumbled, wondering how far he would take this.

  “Just let me show up tomorrow,” said Yevan, “and you and your cronies will be in power in no time. Without firing a shot.” He held out his hands and smiled cheerfully, as if he were bred to make deals like this. “Of course, it will cost you some latinum. After that, perhaps you and I can take a trip together to discuss other arrangements we could make—marriages and such, to cement our bonds.”

  Jandara stared intently at him, then she leaned over the console and hit a comm panel. “Did you get that, Sir?”

  “Yes, I did,” answered an authoritative voice. “Don’t kill them, but bring them to my headquarters.”

  In due time, we met inside an underground bunker with General Hargrev himself, a legendary figure who had remained in hiding all through my mediations with the Red Sash. Even now, he was unprepossessing for an Andorian leader—short, rather rotund, and balding. He had an intensity about his eyes, however, which brooked no interference. I wasn’t about to give him any, because I wasn’t
doing much of the talking.

  Yevan held court. “I really welcome this chance to meet you, General Hargrev,” he began, “because I’ve wondered how to turn this windfall to my advantage. I don’t want the throne—I’ve never set foot on Andoria until today, and I don’t feel much loyalty toward her. Look at the videologs of the shuttlecraft, and you’ll see Captain Picard trying to talk me into it. But I don’t want all the headaches—let’s leave that to someone who will do a better job. Like you.”

  The general looked doubtful over the idea that he could seize power so easily. “And you won’t betray me? Because if you do, young prince, I will feed you to the kritkraws … while you’re still alive.”

  “I’ll be king for a day,” claimed Yevan. “Just long enough to sign a couple of proclamations. And you’ll be making a deposit to my personal account on Pacifica. I would say a million bars of latinum—”

  “A million!” gasped General Hargrev. “You drive a hard bargain.”

  “It’s all to make your life easier. Think of it, General—absolute power! I’ve thought of it, and Captain Picard and I have talked about it. But that’s not for me—let wiser heads prevail.” The young Andorian bowed to our captor.

  “And what should we do with this meddling human?” General Hargrev scowled at me.

  “Oh, he has to come along to legitimize the transition in the eyes of the Federation.” Yevan looked at me as if I were an insect. “He’ll cooperate, because he mediated the accords which gave my father, then me, the throne. Captain Picard made all of this possible.”

  I grumbled under my breath, unable to refute this. At least we weren’t being executed, which was probably our only other option. I was, however, disappointed that Yevan had sold out so quickly. Apparently, nothing I had said had made any impression on him.

  Under cover of darkness, hidden away in a freighter, we stole back to the capitol city of Laibok. I wanted to contact the Federation, the Enterprise, anybody, but I had to let Yevan play his hand. His solution, as onerous as it was, would at least avert a war. But I worried for future generations of Andorians; unless the transition of power became more civil, they would eventually face a war.