Elusive Salvation (Star Trek: The Original Series)

by Dayton Ward

  Despite the anticipation he was already beginning to feel, Kirk kept his tone level. “I’ll want to take Captain Spock with me.” His friend was detailed to Starfleet Academy as an instructor.

  “I’m not stupid enough to break up a winning team,” Nogura replied. “Take him and anyone else you think you need.”

  Kirk nodded. “Understood.” It required physical effort for him not to smile as he added, “We’ll need a ship.” The simple statement elicited a chuckle from Nogura.

  “As it happens, there’s one available.”

  Five

  San Francisco, California

  April 15, 1892

  She closed the door and engaged the lock, then paused to take one last look through the drape covering the door’s window at the departing gentleman.

  “You are quite the handful, Mister Clemens.”

  Unlike her other party guests, Samuel Clemens had by far proven the most fascinating. Rather than filling the air with nonsensical gossip or other mundane conversational claptrap of the day, his intelligence, wit, and opinions regarding politics, religion, and civil rights, just to name a few topics, had set him apart from the other socialites and community leaders who had responded to her invitation for Friday dinner. Whereas she had no real desire to meet again with any of her other guests any time soon, Clemens brought with him enough conversational fuel to ignite many a night’s worth of spirited conversation. He had salvaged what otherwise had been doomed to be a tedious evening.

  Still, Guinan knew she would have to be careful during any future interactions with the man. His keen eye and inquisitive nature could prove dangerous if she allowed her guard to drop around him.

  “I should probably get around to reading some of his books too.” Then, rubbing her rib cage, she added, “But after I get out of this corset.” She had to wonder who designed such ridiculous fashions for the women of this society, with the layers of heavy clothing and unnecessary accessories that made getting dressed or undressed a chore rivaled only by donning a suit of knight’s armor. Were the people responsible for such choices sadists? That was the only logical explanation.

  Making her way across the foyer of her town home, Guinan entered her sitting room and crossed to the small rolltop desk sitting in one corner. Inside the desk was a bottle of Aldebaran whiskey, her private stock that she shared with no one. Only after she poured herself a glass of the soothing green liquid did she turn and acknowledge the three aliens standing by her window.

  “Are you just going to stand there and stare at me all night?”

  To their credit, the trio of aliens—each hairless with pallid yellow skin and wearing garments that were most definitely not in keeping with current fashion trends—appeared sufficiently surprised by her comment. One of them, the group’s only female, regarded her with a confused expression.

  “You can see us?”

  Guinan sipped her whiskey before replying. “If you’re wearing a cloaking device, I hope you didn’t buy it, and if you did, then you should demand a refund.” When it became obvious that none of the aliens understood her choice of words, she decided to switch tacks. “Yes, I can see you, but it was obvious all through dinner that no one else could, so however you pulled it off, congratulations; it works for the most part. Just not on me.”

  “Because you are not human.”

  “Look who’s talking.” Guinan stared at the contents of her glass, pondering this odd meeting. “I’m guessing you’re not here to hurt me, or you’d have done it by now. Did my father send you?”

  The aliens looked at one another before the female said, “No, we are here of our own volition. Indeed, it is we who are hoping you may be able to assist us.”

  It took two glasses of the whiskey, but Guinan was able to listen to the story offered by Drevina and her two Iramahl companions, Glorick and Canderon, about how they had landed on Earth five decades earlier, fleeing from the tyrannical rule of another alien race, the Ptaen. They had elected to keep the reasons for their flight to themselves, but Guinan suspected it had something to do with their perceived value to their subjugators and perhaps other members of their own race.

  “We limit our interactions with humans to the greatest degree possible,” said Canderon, whom Drevina had identified as something of an engineer or technical specialist. “We have no desire to harm anyone, but merely to remain undetected until such time as we are found by our own people.”

  Guinan could appreciate the desire to keep a low profile. She had been doing much the same thing for many years herself. Defying her father, she had availed herself of the first commercial passenger ship departing her homeworld of El-Auria so that she might “see the galaxy” before settling down into something resembling the sort of traditional role normally expected for a female in her society.

  Of all the planets she had visited during her years-long sabbatical from ordinary life, Guinan had taken a particular liking to Earth. Though humans were far less advanced, with respect to technology, she had found much to like about them. They seemed possessed of an indomitable will that pushed them ever forward, and that drive had brought about significant progress on both technological and societal fronts. There was still much to do, and their history was marked by numerous pitfalls and descents into regrettable and even reprehensible behavior toward one another. Still, she saw something, an unrealized potential waiting to be tapped. For this reason among many others, Guinan had opted to remain here for a while longer, just to see how the humans might next surprise her.

  Of course, she had not counted on something like this.

  “How did you find me?” Guinan asked as she filled her glass for a third time. The whiskey was running low, but there were other bottles in the basement. The alcohol had no debilitating effects on her; she just enjoyed the taste. “Only one person in the universe knows where I am.”

  Drevina replied, “We have been aware of your presence here for some time. We are unfamiliar with your species, but we first scanned an intermittent communications signal several years ago, one that is far beyond human technological capabilities. Since then, we have been tracking that signal.”

  Smiling, Guinan swirled the contents of her glass. “That would be me sending messages to my uncle.” Only Terkim had supported her decision to defy convention and live life for herself, even going so far as to make sure she had a ticket for the passenger ship departing El-Auria and sufficient money to provide for transportation and other needs. A social outcast from the rest of their family, Terkim had always been the one who best understood her unconventional, even rebellious nature, and it was this similar attitude that had made them such close friends. Guinan had shared all of this with her unexpected guests. It was nice, she admitted, to talk freely about her true identity and travels. Socialite gossip had long ago lost its entertainment value.

  Uncle Terkim would love this, she thought.

  “We first detected the signal in Europe,” added Glorick, whom Drevina had identified as some kind of flight systems operational specialist, a skill for which he had little use here. “We were aboard the steamship that brought you to this country, but we lost you for a time during your visit to New York. Then we detected your signal in Philadelphia and later Chicago. After tracing you to Deadwood, South Dakota, we lost you again until we registered it coming from here.”

  Drevina said, “You are quite well-traveled.”

  “You have no idea,” replied Guinan. “All right, you found me. Now what?”

  “As we said, we came seeking your help. We have never been able to ascertain whether our distress message was received, or if our people know that we survive here. We only request that you help us dispatch a new message.”

  It was a reasonable request, Guinan conceded, and one she was able to grant. How could she refuse? Assuming their story was true—and she sensed no deception from them—it should be a simple matter for someone f
rom her planet’s government to reach out to the Iramahl.

  “I can’t believe my people wouldn’t be willing to help. However, there’s a right way to do this, and a lot of wrong ways. For example, once someone from my planet reaches out to yours, the risks of someone else discovering that you’re here increase.”

  The engineer, Canderon, said, “We have lived under that threat since our escape.”

  “I’m thinking of the people who were already living on this planet when you got here. I’d prefer not to endanger them, if possible.”

  “Understood,” said Drevina. “We do not wish the humans any harm, either. Surely there must be a way to send a message that does not raise suspicion or risk?”

  Guinan pondered the question. There was one answer, of course. If she wanted to circumvent bureaucracy, she could count on one person to help her do that.

  Terkim, you are really going to love this.

  “Well,” she said, studying the glass in her hand that once again was empty, “sending a message and receiving a reply is going to take some time. It’s a long way to my planet, after all. You may as well stay here.”

  Drevina nodded. “That is most gracious.”

  “Are you kidding? It’ll be nice to talk to someone else who’s from out of town.” She waved toward the window. “Except for that Clemens guy, everybody I run into around here was born here. Hardly any of them have ever left the city, let alone the country. They’re boring.” She looked through the window, enjoying the view of the city it afforded her. Despite whatever complaints she might have about the people who lived here, San Francisco had become one of her favorite Earth cities.

  The city lost a bit of that luster an instant later as the window shattered.

  • • •

  “Move!”

  Drevina shouted the warning, but Canderon was the first to react. He grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the way as the first intruder smashed through the window, sending shards of glass and painted wood exploding across the room. Glorick had lunged to protect their mysterious host, Guinan, but the dark-skinned woman was already moving.

  Another figure entered through the window and landed with grace on the thick, decorative carpet, by which time Drevina realized the identities of the intruders: Ptaen. As expected, the Consortium had dispatched hunters to find them. How long had they been here, on Earth? How many of them were there?

  No time. Move!

  The first hunter had already drawn an energy weapon and was bringing it about, aiming it at Drevina, but Canderon spoiled that with an unlit oil lamp swept from a nearby table. It shattered as it struck the Ptaen in the head, giving Glorick an opportunity to move in for another strike. The hunter was faster, lashing out with his free hand and catching Glorick across the face with sufficient force to spin him off his feet and send him tumbling to the floor.

  Drevina tried to fire, but the Ptaen was already moving toward her. She dodged to one side, catching sight of Canderon engaging the first hunter. He had disarmed the intruder, and the two were exchanging blows, but the Ptaen was far more skilled in unarmed combat than her friend. It took only seconds for the hunter to drive Canderon to the carpet before he reached to his uniform for a bladed weapon.

  Then a red flash filled the room, and Drevina flinched as a harsh ball of energy enveloped the Ptaen. His body racked by spasms, he released a scream that was muffled by the drone of the energy field, and then he vanished.

  His companion was turning toward Guinan, who Drevina now saw was holding a weapon of her own, and as the Ptaen attempted to aim, she fired again. A second ball of roiling energy washed over the hunter, and he disappeared, wiped from existence.

  “Friends of yours?” she asked, her expression cold and hard. The object in her hand was compact, looking not at all like a weapon possessing the capability to unleash such power. Drevina watched as she returned the weapon to a pocket of her clothing.

  “They are Ptaen. We suspected this might happen, but this is our first encounter with hunters since our arrival.” She regarded the mysterious woman who looked so human but quite obviously was much more. “You saved our lives. You may have saved all of my people. Thank you.”

  “What does that mean? Saved all your people?”

  “It is better if you do not know,” replied Canderon. “And it would be better if we left you. If the Consortium knows we are here, they will send more hunters.”

  Glorick added, “We have no way to know how many might already be here. If these two are not alone, they will be missed. We should leave immediately.”

  “We are sorry, Guinan,” said Drevina. “It was not our wish to place you at risk.”

  “I can take care of myself,” replied the El-Aurian. “But your friend’s probably right. Staying in any one place too long is a mistake. You should keep moving, for both our sakes.”

  Canderon asked, “But what of our request?”

  “I’ll take care of it. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll send the message.” Then, she offered a small smile. “You know how to find me.”

  “We appreciate your assistance,” Drevina said, “but it is not our intention to endanger you again.”

  Her destiny, along with that of her friends, lay elsewhere.

  Six

  U.S.S. Enterprise

  Earth Year 2283

  “Admiral on the bridge!”

  The voice calling out the advisory for the rest of the bridge crew sounded young. Very young, Kirk decided as Captain Spock stepped to one side and allowed him to exit first from the turbolift. Glancing to his right, he saw the Starfleet Academy cadet standing at rigid attention, staring at a point somewhere over Kirk’s shoulder, and he forced himself not to smile as the younger man—a human of African descent—swallowed what might well have been a sizable lump in his throat.

  “As you were,” Kirk said, noting the expression of relief that the cadet was almost able to suppress.

  “Thank you, Admiral,” replied the cadet. “Welcome aboard the Enterprise, sir.”

  Moving to stand beside him, Spock said, “Midshipman Kenneth Sapp, Admiral, one of our most promising students. He is the current leader of Nova Squadron.”

  “The name rings a bell,” replied Kirk, recalling the name from at least a few of the conversations he had shared with Spock over dinner in recent months. As for Nova Squadron, that unit designation harbored a history going back to the earliest days of the Academy. Only those cadets with the highest grades and who had demonstrated exceptional ability in the areas of leadership, initiative, integrity, and judgment were even considered for placement within that elite cadre, and acceptance into the storied corps almost always guaranteed the qualifying cadet top placement in their graduating class. Many of Starfleet’s most celebrated officers had earned postings as cadets with Nova Squadron.

  “There are currently eighty-five Nova Squadron members aboard,” said Spock, “overseen by the Academy training staff as well as line members of the Enterprise’s current crew. Given the time constraints, this was the most effective method of staffing an acceptable complement for our mission.”

  Upon hearing that a significant portion of the ship’s crew would consist of cadets—even the cream of the crop from the Academy’s senior class—Kirk had expressed his concerns, both to Spock and Admiral Nogura. However, Spock had countered that the Enterprise, being so close to Earth, would benefit from the support actions of other starships as well as the perimeter defense forces charged with safeguarding the Sol system.

  Despite his friend’s assurances, Kirk could not help the tinge of unease he felt as he beheld the Enterprise bridge and noted the crew working at different stations. The helm position was unoccupied, as were the communications and science stations, but the remaining consoles were overseen by cadets like Midshipman Sapp.

  “Is it just me, or are they recruiting them younger and youn
ger these days?”

  With an arching of his right eyebrow, Spock replied, “Unless there has been a change in directives, the age requirements for entrance to Starfleet Academy have not been modified for quite some time.” The merest ghost of a smile teased one corner of the Vulcan’s mouth, punctuating his response. Without saying anything else, he stepped away from Kirk, descending into the bridge’s command well and taking his seat in the command chair.

  For the briefest of moments, Kirk felt himself moving in that direction as well, before he caught himself and schooled his features to mask his momentary embarrassment.

  Where do you think you’re going?

  This was not his first time aboard the Enterprise since the starship’s removal from active service and assignment as a training vessel to Starfleet Academy under Spock’s command. His friend saw to it that regular opportunities to come aboard presented themselves so that he might conduct “inspection tours” and other similar functions, and Kirk performed similar duties for other starships used by cadets to further their training. Only here, on the bridge of this ship, was there no denying the pull of the captain’s chair whenever he entered this space. He was unable to just stand to one side, watching its regular crew or a group of cadets going about their duties without recalling the days he had spent here, at the center of it all.

  Recalling them, or missing them?

  The turbolift doors opened behind him, and Kirk pushed away the unwelcome questions as he turned to see Montgomery Scott, Hikaru Sulu, Nyota Uhura, and Christine Chapel emerging onto the bridge. All four officers smiled in greeting.

  “Admiral,” Scott said, extending his hand. “No matter the circumstances, it’s always a pleasure to have you aboard, sir.”

  Already feeling better at the sight of his trusted friends and former shipmates, Kirk smiled as he took the engineer’s proffered hand. “Good to see you, Scotty.” He extended similar greetings to Sulu, Uhura, and Chapel. “We’re only missing Doctor McCoy and Mister Chekov to make this a proper reunion.”