by Dayton Ward
“So,” Mitchell said after a moment, making a show of tapping his now-empty glass on the desktop, “what happens now?”
Pausing long enough to refill his friend’s glass from the bottle, Kirk replied, “Alden and his staff are continuing to monitor whatever broadcasts they can pick up from the surface. There are survivors, lots of them. That’s good news, at least.”
At this moment, Dr. Piper and his medical team were seeing to the needs of the Payav, rescued almost without time to spare from the doomed lunar colony. Guiding the Enterprise as though he had been doing it all his life, Sulu had maneuvered the starship into position above the moon and given transporter crews just enough time to lock on to and beam up all thirty-four colonists before moving the vessel out of danger as the pulsar’s X-ray emissions once again found their deadly mark. Since then, the colonists had been sequestered in the Enterprise’s main shuttlebay, where makeshift sleeping, dining, and hygiene arrangements had been made based on the information about the Payav provided by the late Dr. Apohatsu and his team.
In addition to identifying and treating any medical needs, which thankfully were few, Kirk also had assigned sociology and xenobiology personnel to handle what had become a touchy first contact scenario. The early reports were what he had expected, with the Payav colonists reacting at first with fear and uncertainty to their new surroundings, followed by shock at what was happening to their home world as well as at being introduced to beings from an intelligent species that was not their own. Kirk at first thought that he should go down there, introduce himself and perhaps try to explain the situation, but common sense had quickly prevailed. He had qualified, experienced members of his crew seeing to those needs, and they would tell him when the time was right for a formal visit by the ship’s captain.
Until then, all Kirk could do was sit, watch, and wait.
Not that I’ve ever been any good at that sort of thing.
Sighing, the captain took a pull from his glass before continuing, “Starfleet’s mobilizing ships, supplies, and personnel to deliver aid. Specialists are being brought in to assess the long-term damage to the planet.” On top of everything the Payav had faced, they also would have to cope with the realization that they were not alone in the universe, and that some of those other inhabitants were coming to their aid. Sociology and xenobiology experts would be required on site as well. As first contacts went, Kirk figured this one probably would end up ranking among the most heartrending such events ever recorded.
Shaking his head, he added, “These people are in a bad way, Gary. It’ll take weeks just to assess the extent of the damage, and decades to complete the sort of terraforming efforts the scientists are talking about back at Starfleet Command.” Reviewing the unremitting flow of reports on the scope of the tragedy, only served to hammer home the magnitude of what had been inflicted upon the people of Mestiko, to say nothing of the very real possibility that those who had survived to this point might well be facing a long, slow death in the grips of the savagely and perhaps even mortally wounded planet.
Scotty was right. The bitter musing taunted him. Those who died probably were the lucky ones.
The door chime sounded again, and Kirk looked up, surprised. “Is the intercom broken or something?” he asked. “Come.”
When the door opened this time, it was to admit Dr. Piper. “Am I disturbing you, Captain?” he asked, his expression one of concern.
“Not at all, Doctor,” Mitchell said, rising from his seat. “I promised Kelso I’d look in on him before I turned in for the night. How’s he doing?”
Piper nodded. “He’ll have a headache for another day or so, but otherwise I think he’s going to be fine.” Looking to Kirk, he added, “I was planning to discharge him from sickbay tomorrow, sir.”
“Probably not a bad idea,” Mitchell said. “He’s going to want to get back on the job pretty quick, before Sulu sneaks it out from under him.” Offering his good-byes to Piper and Kirk by way of a mock salute, the navigator then disappeared through the door and out into the corridor.
“Have a seat, Mark,” Kirk said, waving the physician toward the chair Mitchell had vacated. Holding up the bottle of brandy, which he noted was now missing a third of its contents, he asked, “Care for a drink?”
“Best offer I’ve had all day,” the doctor said as he all but dropped into the seat. “Professor Cameron suffered a broken leg and hip. I’ve taken care of that, but she’ll be off her feet for the next few days while the bones knit. Otherwise, she’s fine, physically. I can’t say as much for her emotional state, of course.”
Kirk figured as much, just as he suspected the professor was suffering at least the same level of remorse and frustration that he currently was facing. Rising from his chair, he began hunting for a clean glass, noting for the first time as he did so that Piper was carrying a data slate, which he laid atop the desk. “What’s that?” he asked as he poured the doctor a drink.
“My preliminary reports for Starfleet Command,” Piper replied as he took the proffered glass from Kirk. “From a medical standpoint, all of the colonists are fine, physically speaking. Their mental state is something that may be a bit more tricky to gauge, at least right away. According to Lieutenant Lindstrom from the sociology department, the Payav aren’t quite sure what to make of us just yet. They don’t know whether to consider us saviors or murderers.”
“Something tells me the answer to that question will be a long time coming,” Kirk replied. “What about your report on what’s happening down on the planet?”
Piper sighed. “It’s mind-boggling, trying to put it into words.” He paused, taking a long pull from his drink. “It’s going to take a lot of resources to treat the various maladies these people are going to suffer, Captain, in the short and long term. Melanomas and other cancers, respiratory ailments, you name it, these people are going to be dealing with it, and future generations are going to have a hard time of it, too.”
“Still want to retire?” Kirk asked.
Piper did not miss a beat. “Now more than ever,” he said before sipping again from his brandy. “I thought I’d seen a lot in my time, but this is a whole new level.” Shaking his head, he added, “As much as I’m ashamed to admit it, Captain, I just don’t have the stomach for this kind of thing anymore.”
Kirk said nothing for a moment, instead regarding the doctor in silence. Piper, in his late sixties, appeared to have aged another decade in just the past few days. Deep frown and worry lines creased his forehead and his jowls, the wrinkles and puffiness around his eyes seemed more pronounced than even was normal for him. When the doctor said nothing else for nearly a minute, choosing instead to sit and sip his drink, Kirk could tell that other issues were weighing on the man.
“Something else on your mind, Mark?” he prompted. Though he respected the physician not only as a member of his crew but also for the long, distinguished service he had given to Starfleet, he could not honestly think of Piper as a close friend or confidant, or rely on his counsel to the same degree he did Gary Mitchell’s. He figured the difference in their ages kept the doctor from considering him in similar fashion, as well.
He should have known better.
“Actually,” Piper finally said, “I’m worried about you, Jim.”
Kirk could not help his surprise. Since arriving aboard the Enterprise, Piper had never once referred to him in anything less than a formal manner. “How so?”
“You’re beating yourself up about what’s happening down on Mestiko. You figure it’s your fault, and that it should be you who falls on your sword.”
Shrugging, Kirk absently spun his empty glass atop the desk’s smooth surface. “That’s what captains do, Mark. It’s part of the job.”
“A lot of the time, sure,” Piper replied. “Ordinarily, I’d agree with you, but not this time.” Leaning forward until his left arm rested on the desk, the doctor locked eyes with Kirk. “You haven’t been a captain that long, but you’re no untried rookie, eith
er. Thing is, you won’t last long as a captain if you don’t learn to accept that, every so often, you’re going to get the short end of the stick.”
“Millions of people are dead, Doctor,” Kirk snapped, feeling his jaw tighten. “There’s no telling how many more will die. That’s not the short end of the stick. It’s an obscene failure.”
“And that’s what I call bullshit,” Piper countered, his own voice rising a notch now. “You didn’t make any kind of mistake here, Captain. There was no failure to act or foresee or respond in the correct manner. The technical solution Professor Cameron developed was the best that could be expected, considering that no one in the history of…hell, I don’t know…anything…has ever tried to do what we attempted here. It was more than anyone could predict.”
Kirk heard nothing he had not already considered, either on his own or via the reports he had reviewed as submitted by Spock and Sulu. “Your point, Doctor?”
Reaching for the brandy bottle, Piper poured himself a new glass. “My point, Captain, is that your only other option was to stand by, do nothing, and watch a planet’s entire population die.” He paused to take a drink, before pointing the glass in Kirk’s direction. “Now, you and I haven’t known each other very long, but I’m pretty sure you’re not the type of captain who’s going to stand around and do nothing, not while any other kind of choice is available. Am I wrong?”
“No,” Kirk replied, feeling his teeth grind together. “You’re not wrong.”
Piper nodded. “And since we’re on the subject, seems to me I recall you not having a lot of say in the matter, anyway, so I don’t think you’re entitled to blame yourself for decisions you didn’t make in the first place.”
“Starfleet sent the Enterprise,” Kirk said, slapping the desk. “That made it my responsibility.”
“And you can carry that around with you if you want,” Piper snapped, “but the simple fact is that you did everything that was asked of you, everything that could be asked of you. There are people down there we can help because of that, rather than arranging funerals for an entire world.”
Forcing his rising temper down a notch, Kirk cleared his throat. Once he was convinced he could speak without verbally cutting off the doctor’s head, he even offered the hint of a smile as he asked, “Is this your way of telling me to look on the bright side?”
“Something like that,” Piper replied. “Fate dealt these people a hell of a blow, Jim. It’s up to us…no, it’s up to you…to help them forge something better from what they’ve been given.”
Kirk released a sigh mixed from equal parts fatigue and acceptance. While it might be easier to dwell on what had happened—or what might have been—he knew Piper was right. If there was to be any helping the people of Mestiko, that effort only could begin by looking to the future.
The desk intercom blared to life with its melodic whistle. Reaching for the desktop terminal, the captain opened the frequency. “Kirk here.”
“Alden here, sir,” replied the voice of the communications officer. “We’re picking up some new broadcasts from the surface, apparently from the surviving elements of their global security council. You need to hear this, Captain.”
Frowning at the report, Kirk searched his tired memory for the name used by the indigenous population for the international body to which Alden referred, but his brain would not cooperate. Nevertheless, instinct told him he was not going to like what he was about to hear. Exchanging a worried look with Piper, the captain said, “Send it down here, Lieutenant.”
There was a delay as the communications officer made the proper connections, after which Kirk and Piper found themselves listening to the still in-progress broadcast being delivered by an unidentified Payav woman, and translated by the Enterprise’s computer.
“—ful for our deliverance from this great tragedy, which has taken so many of our loved ones from us. It will be a struggle, but from this day forward we must strive to ensure that the gift of survival bestowed upon us is not wasted. To do so, we must recognize that the visitors from the stars who have been watching our planet for these many seasons acted in our best interests, who in fact took steps to save our world from total annihilation, and hope that they are as willing to assist us with our recovery.”
“Uh-oh,” Piper said.
Listening to the speech, Kirk heard the fatigue as well as the resolve behind the words. This was a strong woman, he decided, someone people could look to for guidance and compassion, particularly in the days ahead. Was she an established leader, or simply a person of such strength and character who had seen the need for someone, anyone, to step into the void created by the disaster and lay a firm hand on the tiller?
“Something better,” Kirk said after a moment, echoing the doctor’s earlier comments. Closing his eyes, he reached up to rub the bridge of his nose, listening to the mesmerizing woman as she continued to speak, offering hope and possibilities to a world all but enveloped by darkness and despair.
Maybe there’s hope for us, as well.
CHAPTER
11
“I never thought I would get to see my world from space,” Raya elMora said from where she stood at the front of the Enterprise’s bridge, staring at the main viewer.
Standing next to her, Kirk recognized the expression on the Payav woman’s face as one of almost childlike wonder. He imagined he understood at least some of what she was feeling now, as to this day he still recalled his first time looking upon Earth from the observation port of a shuttle on its way to the orbital docking facility holding his father’s ship.
“As a youth I used to daydream about it,” Raya continued after a moment. “My elor used to tell me to get my head out of the clouds and mind my studies.” Kirk watched the woman’s expression falter to one of resignation, even defeat. “It was always so beautiful in my dreams.”
On the screen, Mestiko seemed to turn as the Enterprise continued its orbit, providing a sobering, bleak image of the wounded planet. Instead of the brilliant blues of its oceans and the rich, vibrant colors saturating its landmasses, everything was shrouded and dulled by the thick brown haze permeating the atmosphere.
“It can be beautiful again.” Though he delivered the words with what he considered to be a confident, authoritative demeanor, one he had spent his entire career developing in anticipation of one day ascending to the position of starship command, Kirk could not help but think that the belief he was expressing seemed to ring hollow.
Turning away from the viewscreen, Raya regarded him with narrowed eyes. “Forgive me if I find that hard to believe, Captain. From what I’m being told, the environmental damage inflicted upon my world is beyond measure.”
She was not far from the truth, Kirk knew, at least according to the resources currently available to her. Even with the Enterprise’s sensors at his disposal, it had taken nearly two days to assess the extent of the immediate impact of the pulsar’s passing. Though casualty figures were still being accumulated, projections were rising well into the order of hundreds of millions already dead. As many more were predicted to die from the direct effects of ultraviolet radiation poisoning and cardiovascular ailments brought on by the unforgiving pollution now permeating the atmosphere. There also were the ravages of persistent, unforgiving severe weather to consider—thunder and electrical storms, flooding, mudslides, tornadoes, hurricanes—which already had taken a tremendous toll in the days following the pulsar’s passing.
With more than half of Mestiko having suffered the worst effects of the pulsar, the surviving elements of planetary governments devastated by the disaster had been struggling to deploy emergency response assets and procedures. Primary energy production facilities across the planet were offline, and already stressed backup services were being further taxed by the demands of ongoing rescue and aid efforts. Kirk knew that such measures were temporary at best and would require bolstering in order to continue operating even in the short term.
In the long term, the measures cu
rrently being employed were woefully inadequate, and would do nothing to stave off the doom still faced by the planet. Kirk knew from the reports he had been receiving from Spock and Professor Cameron that the worst was still to come. Continuously rising nitrogen oxide levels in the atmosphere meant less sunlight making its way through to warm the planet. Further, if left unchecked, the ultraviolet radiation eventually would be responsible for killing off all plant and animal life. Along with the atmosphere’s depleted oxygen content, and Mestiko would devolve into a frozen, uninhabitable rock.
Unless we do something.
After a moment, Raya’s pale features softened, and Kirk even thought he caught a twinkle in her radiant blue eyes as she offered a small smile. “I apologize if I sound harsh, Captain. As you might imagine, this is more than a bit overwhelming for me.” She paused, casting a glance toward the deck. “For all of us, and I do not just mean the calamity that has befallen my people.” Looking around the bridge, exchanging glances with the members of Kirk’s crew, she added, “Learning that you are not alone in the universe is something of a trying experience, as well.”
“No apologies needed, Raya,” Kirk replied, almost faltering as he remembered at the last moment that the Payav woman had stated a preference not to be addressed by any specific honorific in keeping with her position of leadership. It might have been modesty, though the captain suspected that practicality was a more likely explanation given the hasty circumstances under which Raya had assumed her current role. “I know it’s a lot to take in all at once, and while I can’t claim to understand what you must be feeling right now, I hope you believe me when I say I want to help you in any way I can.”
