by Dayton Ward
“Thank you,” she said as she took the proffered package. “You are a gift from the gods.”
“Remember that when you add the gratuity,” Matthi countered as he settled himself into the chair. “So, my young progeny, what could possibly be so important that you do not even have the time to eat?”
“Everything at once,” Raya replied before biting into her leafy roll and savoring the blend of seasonings that lightly burned at her taste buds.
“Let me guess,” Matthi said. “The Atmospheric and Astronomic Council again? I am surprised that they have not given you your own office, considering how often you are there harassing them. A holdover from your university days, I suspect.”
Raya offered a sheepish smile and felt her face warm with some embarrassment, the same way it did every time Matthi chidingly remarked about what he referred to as her “radical youth,” rather than crediting her with her schooling achievements. It was during her training as an environmental sciences teacher that Raya had joined a group of fellow students committed to the purity of the planet’s air and water. Her own research into the subject turned into what she knew even then would be a lifelong passion for raising public awareness of the contaminants people ate, drank, and breathed each day.
Indeed, it was her first testimony before the Convocation—a call for the protection of wetlands threatened by a proposed reduction in emissions standards for manufacturers—and the overwhelming positive response she received from her fellow students and journalists as well as a few Servants that eventually had led her to pursue a calling to public service rather than education, with the goal of forging her passions into policy. While her role as a Servant required her consideration of matters ranging from agriculture to foreign policy and from security to transportation, issues directly affecting the environment of Larenda and all of Mestiko had always been the primary driving force behind her efforts.
“I do not harass anyone,” Raya said around another bite of her meal. “I am merely persistent at making my wants known.”
“Indeed you are,” Matthi replied, nodding, “and the people see that. They pay attention to the proposals you make as well as those you support. They like what they see, Raya.”
“I am not here to be watched on the news feeds or recognized when I am at the marketplace, Matthi,” Raya said. “When I was selected to serve, I admit that I was single-minded on what I wanted to accomplish here, but I have since found that my focus has broadened in a great many ways.” Eyeing her mentor as she took another bite, she added, “You have yourself to either thank or blame for that, by the way.”
Ignoring the good-natured jab, Matthi smiled. “That is just the kind of thinking that will see you to a leadership position, my young Servant.”
Raya actually stopped chewing at that remark. Noting the look in her friend’s eyes, she frowned. “You cannot be serious.”
“The Presiding Servant has started asking questions about you,” Matthi replied, “wondering about your potential in an expanded role, and I am not the only one whose opinion he has solicited. That is something you should keep in mind before you go charging into any proposal reviews with your customary ire raging.”
“It sometimes takes a little ire to get people to think about the things in life we take for granted,” Raya said, leaning forward in her seat. “I am not about to stop pushing to protect our planet just to receive leadership of some administrative committee.”
Holding up his hands in mock defense, Matthi said, “I am merely offering you some insight into how others are viewing you. You are respected, both by the Convocation and the people, and you have the chance to start building consensus. That can work very much in your favor when you need support for proposals of much greater scope than tightening emissions standards. Clear-minded thinking and the willingness to work for the middle ground is what they are hoping to see you demonstrate, and I know you have it in you.” Rising from his chair, he offered a knowing smile as he nodded at the remains of the meal still in her hand. “But only if you keep up your energy, so…finish eating that.”
He let himself out, leaving Raya alone in the confines of her cluttered office. She studied the closed door as she chewed another bite of her meal, though the greens now seemed a little less crispy and the spread just a little flatter in spice as she considered what her friend had said to her.
It was not the first time that Matthi had suggested she make some effort to expand her sphere of influence within the Convocation. Unlike many of his peers, he looked past her rebellious youth and instead saw her passion for pursuing the greater good. Still, it was not as though he was ignorant of her feelings on pursuing such a career path, one which would in all likelihood require her to rein in her outspoken manner and develop proficiency in something for which she seldom had seen use: Compromise.
Sorry to disappoint you, Matthi, she thought, but I fear that a bit of the radical still remains within me.
CHAPTER
5
“Approaching the pulsar now, Captain.”
Looking up from the latest in what seemed to be a never-ending series of status reports handed to him by his yeoman, Kirk nodded to Lieutenant Commander Gary Mitchell, who turned to regard him from his navigator’s console as he relayed his report.
“Lay in a parallel course, Mr. Mitchell,” he said. Turning his attention to the officer seated to Mitchell’s left at the helm station, Lieutenant Lee Kelso, Kirk added, “Mr. Kelso, match the pulsar’s velocity while maintaining safe distance. Let’s have a nice, smooth ride, gentlemen.”
Mitchell nodded, a wan smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “We’ll do our best to lull the captain to sleep,” he said as he returned to his station, exchanging grins with Kelso that communicated not only their trust in each other, but also the faith they knew their captain gave them. Individually, each man was an effective officer well suited to his duties. Working together, they were a formidable team upon which Kirk quickly had learned to depend.
Of course, Gary Mitchell was a longtime friend of Kirk’s, dating back to their days at Starfleet Academy, and the two already had served together on two other ships, the Republic and the Constitution. Upon assuming command of the Enterprise, Kirk had asked for Mitchell to serve as his first officer. That request had been overruled by Starfleet Command, however, in favor of promoting Spock to that position in addition to his current duties as Enterprise science officer.
The admiral responsible for making such decisions believed that Kirk and Mitchell were too much alike in their personalities to make an effective tandem as commanding and executive officer, a relationship which more often than not thrived on contrasting perspectives and approaches to problem solving. Mitchell, to Kirk’s shock, actually agreed with the admiral, though Kirk himself protested the ruling. Despite that initial discord, the captain was coming to realize, based on his dealings with Spock, that the admiral’s decision had indeed been a wise one.
“Strong sensor contact,” Spock said from his workstation. The captain looked over to see the science officer hunched over the hooded viewer that was the dominant feature of his console and that provided him with a direct interface to the constant streams of telemetry being received by the Enterprise’s array of sophisticated sensors. His face bathed in cool blue light as he continued to study the scanner readings, Spock continued, “Bearing 346 mark nine, velocity 40.77 kilometers per second.”
Though Spock could not see him, Kirk nodded at the report before handing the data slate and its miniature mountain of status reports to the young brunette woman standing to his right. “Thank you, Smith.”
She regarded him with a startled expression. “Sorry, sir. I’m Yeoman Jones.”
Kirk sighed. The ship’s personnel administration department recently had assigned two enlisted women to fill the billet of his yeoman, Jones for alpha shift and a striking young blonde, Smith, for gamma. At least, he thought those were their assignments, as he had yet to address either woman by her correct n
ame.
With a weak smile of apology, the captain shook his head in resignation. “I’ll get it right one of these days, I promise.” Rising from his chair at the center of the bridge’s command well, Kirk noted an abnormal tremor in the deck plates beneath his feet. “What is that?”
Spock replied without looking away from his console. “We are beginning to encounter gravimetric turbulence from the pulsar. It will have an effect on our sensors as we draw closer.”
“Go to yellow alert,” Kirk ordered as he stepped toward the red curved railing separating the upper deck from the command well. He could tell when the Enterprise’s deflector shields activated in response to the raised alert level, not only from the fleeting blink in the overhead lighting as the ship responded to the new power requirements but also by the abrupt fading of the slight yet still noticeable trembling in the deck plates.
“We’re starting to receive detailed sensor telemetry from the pulsar,” said Professor Cameron from where she sat to Spock’s left, the station she occupied having been reconfigured for her use. She pointed to one of the eight small display screens arrayed just above her console. “Density is equivalent to 1.48 solar masses. Smaller than I expected.” Looking to Kirk, she smiled. “That’s a good thing.”
His elbows perched atop the railing, the captain stroked his chin as he considered the professor’s report. “How so?”
Turning in his seat, Spock replied, “Given its current trajectory, if the pulsar were any larger there would be a significant risk of it pulling Mestiko from its normal orbit around this system’s sun.”
“As it is, there’s likely to be a minor disruption of its orbit, anyway,” Cameron said. “I’ll need to examine the sensor data more closely and conduct some computer simulations, but just from what I’m seeing here I’m willing to guess the planet’s orbit will become slightly more elliptical. Long-term effects would include more extremes in seasonal weather patterns: hotter summers, colder winters, though the summers might end up being shorter and the winters longer. It’s possible the orbits of the planet’s moons may also be affected.”
From behind Kirk, Mitchell said, “Given the circumstances, I imagine the Payav could learn to deal with that.”
“On the contrary, Commander,” Spock countered, “according to the reports submitted by the cultural observation team assigned to Mestiko, there are several segments of Payav society with deep-seated religious tenets. They include the belief that a calamity befalling their world be considered punishment for not living up to the standards set forth by the entity they choose to worship.”
His eyes widening even as he kept his attention on his console, Mitchell said, “You’re saying that if we manage to deflect the pulsar’s effects, we’d be seen as interfering with divine will and the fulfillment of prophecy?”
“Assuming we’re discovered by any of the indigenous population,” Cameron replied. “Beyond the handful of people who already know about us, of course.”
As if in response to the conversation, the deck plating once again shuddered beneath Kirk’s feet, and he felt the vibrations channeled through the bridge railing and into his hands. The overhead lighting flickered and he noted several of the display monitors at the perimeter stations waver as though suffering momentary disruption.
“Gravimetric interference?” Kirk asked, making his way back to his command chair as Spock and Cameron both returned to their respective stations.
Consulting his instruments once more, Spock replied, “Affirmative. The effects are increasing.” He turned toward the young officer at the engineering station at the rear of the bridge. “Deflectors, full intensity.”
Kirk looked to the main viewscreen, upon which was displayed an image of the blue-red pulsar. “Can we compensate?”
“Our course isn’t being affected, Captain,” Kelso replied from the helm. “At least, not yet. We can move away if we need to, but it’ll get worse as we get closer, sir.”
Satisfied with the report, Kirk turned to Cameron. “How much longer do you need?”
“Just a few more minutes, Captain,” the professor replied before turning back to her workstation.
“Shields holding at full power,” Mitchell reported, “but they’re taking quite a beating.”
Kirk could believe it, even without the added emphasis of the renewed tremor in the arms of his chair. There was no denying that the ship was being subjected to a terrific assault on its defensive systems as it maneuvered ever closer to the rogue astral body. Despite that, he understood just how important it was that Cameron be given every opportunity to collect as much information as possible. There simply was too much at stake to err on the side of caution now.
“Have engineering route emergency power to the shields. Maintain course and speed as long as possible,” Kirk said. “And Professor, sooner would be better.”
Cameron nodded, both hands moving across her station’s rows of multicolored controls. “Almost there, Captain. These are the most detailed scans of the pulsar we’ve gotten to date. Its magnetic field is stronger than we anticipated, which means we’ll have to modify the way the probes are deployed.”
In front of Kirk at the center of the navigation console, the red triangular alert indicator began to flash at the same time as a new, stronger jolt rocked the entire bridge. He felt himself pushed back in his seat and he saw both Kelso and Mitchell grip the edges of their consoles.
“Deflector generators are overloading!” Spock called out, shouting to be heard over the alarm klaxon that was now echoing across the confines of the bridge. Once again the overhead lighting wavered, this time dying out altogether before being as quickly replaced by emergency illumination. Despite the Enterprise’s inertial dampening systems Kirk still felt his stomach lurch as the starship struggled against the pulsar’s gravitational effects.
“Kelso, cut speed!” he ordered over the shrill whine of the red alert siren, remembering the instructions Cameron had given him in the event the ship needed to move away from the pulsar. “Veer off!” He gripped the arms of his chair as the image on the main viewer showed the pulsar pulling away before vanishing past the screen’s left edge. Almost immediately he sensed the vibrations running through the deck and even his chair beginning to abate.
“Damage reports, all stations,” he heard Spock call into the ship’s intercom system, and looked to see his communications officer, Lieutenant Alden, turning to oversee that task. The young African man’s features clouded into a concerned scowl as he listened to the litany of status reports coming in from across the ship, channeled to his station and the Feinberg receiver he wore in his right ear.
The tremors were gone now, and Mitchell already had seen to the securing from red alert before leaving his station to assist Cameron, who had been dumped unceremoniously to the deck. “Are you all right, Professor?” the navigator asked as he assisted her to her feet.
Cameron replied, “I’m fine, Commander, thank you.” As Kirk moved once more to the railing, she added, “My apologies, Captain. I should have anticipated that might happen as we drew closer.” Glancing toward the floor, she grimaced as she reached up with her right hand to rub her temple. “There was so much sensor data coming so fast, I guess I just got caught up in it.”
“No other significant damage or injuries, Captain,” Alden said from the communications station.
Stepping toward Kirk, Spock clasped his hands behind his back. “Engineering reports that the deflector shield generators experienced severe strain, but Mr. Scott believes he can have them back to full operational status within nine hours.”
Nodding at the report, Kirk said, “Have Scotty see what he can do about enhancing shield strength. We’re not done here yet, and I don’t want to risk further damage to the ship in the event we have to get close to that thing again.”
“What about those probes?” Mitchell asked, leaning against Cameron’s console, his arms folded across his chest. “They’re going to have to be a lot closer to that pulsa
r than we got. Will their shields protect them?”
Cameron frowned. “The pulsar’s gravimetric effects are more intense than we anticipated, but we tried to allow for such a variance when calculating the power requirements for each probe.” Exhaling audibly, she looked to Kirk. “But I have to be honest, Captain, I’m not sure it will be enough.”
Kirk could see that the admission was a difficult one for the professor to make. She—and those who had helped her, of course—had no doubt labored with a palpable level of uncertainty throughout the development of their plan and the technology to support it, insecurity only made worse when measuring the stakes. Still, that feeling could at least be mitigated with the knowledge—harsh though truthful—that the people of Mestiko were doomed if no action were taken.
Now, however, Cameron faced head-on the possibility that she might take that action and still fail. It was a prospect Kirk also had considered—a realistic assessment of the situation given the untested nature of what they would soon attempt.
That said, he simply refused to accept it.
He turned to look at the main viewer, which now showed an unfettered starfield. In his mind’s eye, however, he envisioned a tranquil image of Mestiko centered on the screen, with its azure oceans and lush green and brown landmasses upon which teemed a civilization on the brink of extinction.
“It’ll have to be enough, Professor,” he said after a moment, feeling his jaw tighten in determination. “We don’t have a choice anymore.”
There could be no excuses, no rationalizations for inability to achieve what they had come here to accomplish. Too much rode on the outcome of their mission; too many lives depended on what he, his ship, and the people under his command did or did not do in the coming days.
Failure was unthinkable.
CHAPTER
6
