by Greg Cox
“The impulse engines! They’re our only hope.”
Fontana stared at him in shock. “From a cold start? There’s no time!”
The impulse engines had been shut down since they had arrived at Saturn; the crew had been relying on controlled thruster burns to navigate around the planet. But it was possible that even the Lewis & Clark’s primitive impulse engines might have enough oomph to get them clear of the atmosphere again—if they could get them fired up in time.
“Trust me! It can be done.” Kirk had seen Scotty work wonders with his engines in the past, usually in the nick of time. “You just need to kick-start the fusion reaction by superheating the deuterium, then keep a close eye on the plasma conduits.”
“Or?” she asked.
“The ship blows up,” he admitted. “But you have to believe me. I know this technology better than you do, and I know what it’s capable of . . . with the right handling.”
She hesitated, uncertain whether to trust him. “I don’t even know who you are.”
He didn’t blame her for doubting him. He was asking a lot. “I know. But believe it or not, I’ve done this kind of thing before.”
Lightning flashed far below them. Deafening thunderclaps shook the flight deck. Banshee winds wailed over the agonized groaning of the hull. The ship was tossed about like a dinghy on an angry sea. The overhead lights flickered ominously. Sparks erupted from one of the auxiliary computer terminals. Sweat soaked through Kirk’s clothes; it was already hotter than Vulcan’s Forge and getting worse by the second. He feared for Zoe, who was still trapped down in the airlock, with no clue of what was happening. He feared for them all.
“Oh, what the hell,” Fontana blurted. “It’s not like I’ve got any better ideas. Get to it, stranger.”
“Thanks!”
Kirk rapidly called up the impulse controls and started streamlining the start-up procedure. The computer flashed a stream of alerts, warning him that he was exceeding established safety parameters. He ignored the cautions and overrode the computer’s increasingly strident attempts to block him. He remembered reviewing the engine specs back in Shaun’s quarters; what he was attempting was risky, to be sure, but it was doable if you didn’t push these crude engines too hard. There was no way he could achieve the sort of thrust that more advanced impulse engines were capable of, but he wasn’t trying to approach light speed, just to get them out of this oversized pressure cooker before they went too deep. Good thing Saturn’s gravity isn’t proportionate to its size, he thought, or we wouldn’t stand a chance.
“Almost set.” He let Fontana keep control of the helm, while he monitored the fusion reactor, the accelerator/generator, the drive coils, and the vectored plasma exhaust vents. All indicators were in the red zone, and the computer thought he was a maniac, but that couldn’t be helped. He was asking the Lewis & Clark to do something no Earth-based ship had done before. He could only hope that she was up to it. “On my count, three . . . two . . . one . . .”
Blastoff.
The impulse engines awoke with a roar. A burst of acceleration drove Kirk back into his seat. A bone-jarring vibration rattled the flight deck. Kirk anxiously watched the gauges. If the overtaxed engines were going to explode, it was going to be now. Fontana wrestled with the nav controls. The ship’s nose lifted upward.
“Yes!” she exulted. “We have liftoff!”
The deadly heat began to abate as the Lewis & Clark climbed toward safety. Wind, thunder, and lightning, coming from Saturn’s furious depths, chased them out of the planet’s atmosphere. Fontana let out a whoop as sulfurous vapors gave way to the frigid black emptiness of space and the dazzling brilliance of the rings.
“Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “We did it!”
Kirk wiped the sweat from his brow. “Tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure that would work.”
“Now you tell me.” She eased back on the throttle, guiding the ship into a stable polar orbit that slipped through the gaps in the rings. The violent rattling subsided. For the first time in too long, the mission was back on track.
They were safe.
I’ll have to tell Scotty about this someday, he thought. If I ever get back to my own time.
She turned toward him, a thoughtful look on her face. Shrewd green eyes examined him. “I still don’t know who you are, mister, but I’m glad you’re here.”
“Thanks. That means a lot.”
She eyed him pensively. “Can you please tell me one thing? Where is the real Shaun?”
“I wish I knew,” Kirk said.
Before he could even try to explain, he remembered something else they needed to deal with first.
O’Herlihy.
He spun his chair around to check on the unconscious scientist, only to find the man missing. “Damn!” Kirk swore. “He’s gone.”
Fontana knew at once who he meant. After all, there was only one other man aboard the ship. An obscenity escaped her lips. “That bastard. He must have slipped away while we were saving the ship.” She clenched her fists. “God, he had me fooled this whole time. I still don’t get it. Why is he doing this?”
Kirk gathered that she hadn’t heard about O’Herlihy’s daughter. “I’ll explain later. We have to find him!”
Unstrapping himself, Kirk lurched from his seat and headed for the hatch. With any luck, O’Herlihy hadn’t gotten far. Maybe they could still catch him before he did any more damage. “Stay here!” he instructed Fontana, leaving her at the helm. “I’m going after him.”
He dove headfirst into the mid-deck below. Fire-retardant foam still drifted about the compartment. He put a hand over his mouth and nose to keep from inhaling it. The fans and filters labored noisily to scrub the atmosphere, even as Kirk searched for the fugitive doctor. His eyes scanned the deck.
A warning light flashed above the airlock. An alarm sounded.
Kirk rushed to the entrance to the docking ring. Peering through the porthole in the hatch, he spied O’Herlihy inside the airlock, struggling with the outer hatch. According to the indicators, the compartment was still pressurized. He was not wearing a spacesuit.
“Marcus!” Kirk yelled at him through the door. “What do you think you’re doing?”
O’Herlihy turned to face him. His face was haggard and bloody. His nose looked broken. He spoke like a man who had lost all hope.
“Don’t blame yourself, Shaun. It’s not your fault. I’m the one who failed Tera, not you.”
Kirk realized that O’Herlihy intended to flush himself out the airlock.
“Don’t do it. We’ll find a way to save your daughter!”
“It’s too late,” the doctor said. “We’re too far away to do anything. I’ll never see her again, at least not in this life.” He smiled ruefully. “Look at it this way. I’m going to be the first man on Saturn. If I’m lucky, people will remember that part . . . and not everything else.”
An alarm squealed in protest as O’Herlihy fumbled with the hatch’s manual override. The ship didn’t want to open the hatch before the airlock was depressurized, but the suicidal scientist was determined to open it anyway. Kirk didn’t underestimate the man’s abilities. O’Herlihy knew this ship as well as anyone.
“Wait!” Kirk pleaded. “Give me a chance to fix things.”
He remembered Zoe’s upgraded tablet, which was still clipped to his suit. He took hold of it and hacked into the airlock’s locking mechanism again. O’Herlihy cursed as the outer hatch refused to budge. The inner hatch slid open.
“Sorry, Doctor,” Kirk said. “I told you before, nobody is dying today.”
“I guess we’ve got a lot to talk about,” Kirk said.
Kirk, Fontana, and Zoe had convened on the flight deck. Prying Zoe out of the broken airlock had been a challenge, but, working together, he and Fontana had managed to get the damaged hatch to open. O’Herlihy was under a suicide watch in the infirmary, strapped down to the examination pad and monitored 24/7 by a closed-circuit camera. At the moment, the sui
cidal scientist was sleeping restlessly, having been sedated by Fontana in an instance of poetic justice.
“And plenty of time to do so,” she said. “Even with the impulse engines up and running, we’ve got a long trip back to Earth. Maneuvering is going to be tricky, now that we’ve used up most of our thruster fuel, but Mission Control is already working on a new flight plan to get us close enough to Earth. I’m going to cross my fingers and assume that everything will work out. I mean, we’ve beaten the odds so far.”
“That’s the spirit, Alice.” Zoe had traded her elastic cooling suit for a spare T-shirt and shorts. “Speaking of rescues, what about the doc’s daughter? What’s going to happen to her?”
Kirk was worried about that, too. “We’ve notified the authorities back on Earth. Last I heard, they were planning a rescue attempt, but it’s going to be a gamble. Apparently, HEL is holed up in a heavily fortified compound on an island in the Pacific Northwest. The odds are against anybody getting to Tera before her captors can execute her.”
“You’re not kidding,” Zoe said. “I’ve been to that compound, to interview HEL’s leaders.” She shuddered at the memory. “It’s a disaster waiting to happen.”
If only he could do something to rescue Tera himself, but Earth was still three months away. Kirk could only hope that the special forces of this era were up to the task and that an innocent young woman wouldn’t end up as collateral damage.
An electronic chime came from the main communications panel.
“Hark!” Zoe said. “We’ve got mail.”
Fontana flew over to investigate. “Looks like we’re receiving a transmission.”
“From Earth?”
Kirk frowned, fearing bad news regarding O’Herlihy’s daughter. No matter what the man had done, Kirk didn’t want to have to tell him that Tera had been killed in a raid on HEL. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose one’s only child.
Maybe it’s just our new flight plan, he hoped.
“No.” Fontana looked up from the terminal with a stunned expression on her face. She gazed at the empty reaches of space beyond Saturn’s rings. “Unless this equipment is malfunctioning, the signal is coming from . . . out there.”
Kirk felt a surge of excitement. He had almost given up waiting for a moment like this.
Could it be?
“What does it say?” he asked urgently. “Is there a message for us?”
“I’m not sure,” Fontana said. Her smooth brow furrowed in confusion. “Let me put it on the speakers.”
An unmistakable mellifluous voice emerged from the comm system.
“Hailing Captain Kirk,” Uhura said. “If you can read me, please respond.”
Twenty-eight
2020
Gravity hit Kirk like a ton of thermoconcrete. He staggered on the transporter platform, and McCoy rushed forward to prop him up. “Easy, Jim. Give yourself time to adjust.”
“Thanks, Bones.” He let the doctor help him off the platform. His bones and muscles, debilitated by weeks of zero gravity, felt like overcooked pasta. “Guess I’ve got some physical therapy in my future . . . if I don’t get my own body back.”
“Count on it,” McCoy said. “And don’t expect me to go easy on you.”
Kirk chuckled. It was good to be home.
“Welcome back, Captain.” Spock greeted Kirk. “I apologize for the delay, but as you know, we had other matters to attend to, and time travel is hardly an exact science.”
“Understood, Mr. Spock.” Kirk stood as straight as he could manage; it wouldn’t do for the captain to appear too weak, even before friends. “I remember how tricky that slingshot maneuver can be. I’m just glad you made it to the right year.”
Close to five days had passed for him since he had first arrived in this era; he wondered how much time had passed for the Enterprise. The Klondike system was months from Saturn, so clearly, he had missed a good deal of time. “The situation on Skagway?”
“Resolved, Captain, successfully.”
“Good to hear it. I knew I could count on you, Mr. Spock. I look forward to getting a full report, after we take care of a few other pressing matters.”
The Enterprise was keeping a low profile in this century, using Saturn’s moons and the ship’s own deflectors to reduce its chances of being detected by Earth. Kirk took a moment to appreciate the comforting familiarity of the transporter room. His welcoming party included Spock, McCoy, Scotty, and one other familiar face: his own.
Even though he had been expecting it, it still came as a jolt to see what appeared to be James T. Kirk standing beside Spock and Scotty. He had to remind himself that, this time around, he wasn’t faced with an android double, a duplicitous shape-changer, or his own evil half. This was his actual body, which currently housed another man’s mind.
“Colonel Shaun Geoffrey Christopher, I presume?”
“Pleased to finally meet you, Captain Kirk.” The stranger with his face stepped forward and offered Kirk his hand. “I must say, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“The feeling is mutual.” Kirk shook his own hand. “Sorry if I’ve been a bit rough on your body.” He rubbed his sore jaw; cuts and bruises on his face served as painful reminders of his battle with O’Herlihy. “I’m afraid you’re missing a tooth.”
Shaun looked Kirk over. “Has there been trouble on my ship? Is everyone all right?”
“They’re fine, more or less,” Kirk said. “It’s been an . . . eventful mission, but the situation was under control when I left. I can give you all of the details later.”
“What about Alice?” he asked. “I mean, Fontana.”
Kirk caught the urgency in his voice. It seemed that Fontana’s deep affection for her copilot had not been one-sided. He decided not to mention his brief encounter with Zoe.
“Anxious to see you again,” he assured Shaun. In fact, Fontana had wanted to beam over with him, until he’d pointed out that this would entail leaving Zoe in charge of the Lewis & Clark. Fontana had quickly relented, which was just as well; the fewer twenty-first-century astronauts to visit the Enterprise, the better. “I believe she’s missed you.”
“No more than I’ve missed her,” Shaun said with obvious emotion. Kirk recalled that the displaced astronaut had not seen his own crew for months, by his reckoning. “Funny how getting zapped hundreds of years into a strange future and nearly dying on the other side of the galaxy makes you realize just what—and who—is really important to you. Alice and I have our own future to get on with.”
Kirk believed him. He made a mental note to look both astronauts up when he got a chance. He was curious to find out what the future held for them, assuming that he and Shaun could straighten out their current situation.
“You’ll see her soon,” he promised, before glancing down at his borrowed body. “But first, there’s the little matter of putting both of our minds back where they belong.”
“Well, don’t look at me,” McCoy said. “I’m out of the brain-transplant business.” He looked pointedly at Spock. “Once was enough.”
Kirk wasn’t particularly keen on swapping brains, either. He preferred to keep their gray matter in place, if possible.
“What about that infernal contraption that daft lassie used to switch places with the captain a few years ago?” Scotty asked, referring to Janice Lester and her foiled attempt to steal Kirk’s body. “Camus II is a fair ways from here, but those alien machines should be just sitting there in this century, waiting for us.”
“Not an option.” Kirk had already considered that. “The effect wasn’t permanent, remember? Our minds began to shift back of their own accord, and Janice theorized that the only way to make the switch stick was to kill me while my mind was still in her body.” He looked at Shaun Christopher. “Obviously, that’s not an option.”
“Good to know,” Shaun said. “What else can we try?”
Kirk turned to his first officer. “Spock?”
“I can attempt to facil
itate some manner of psychic reintegration, Captain, but there are no guarantees. This would go beyond a simple mind-meld, not that there is ever anything simple about the joining of two or more minds.” His somber tone conveyed the gravity of the challenge. “However, the only alternative is to condemn you and Colonel Christopher to reside in each other’s body for the rest of your natural lives.”
“Forget it,” Shaun said. “I want my old body back, no matter the risk. No offense, Captain.”
“None taken,” Kirk said. “I feel the same.”
“Hold on a minute!” McCoy blurted, clearly unconvinced. “Let’s not rush into anything. Do you really think you can do this, Spock? Transfer minds from one body to another?”
“Ordinarily not, Doctor,” Spock admitted. “You are quite correct that such a feat is most likely beyond my abilities or those of any other Vulcan. But I am relying on the fact that these two minds will want to return to their proper locations, just as the captain’s and Dr. Lester’s minds did on that previous occasion. In theory, I will simply be the conduit by which their respective psyches are able to restore their natural states.”
“Like water flowing back to the sea,” Kirk said, grasping the concept.
“Or a displaced electron returning to its previous quantum state,” Spock said. “Extraordinary energy was no doubt required to trade your minds, but it is possible that less effort will be required to put them back where they belong. Think of your brains as planets, exerting a gravitational pull on your thoughts.”
“I don’t know,” McCoy grumbled. “It still sounds like a hell of a gamble to me. At least you’re both still sound in body and mind. What if this stunt does more harm than good? You could end up brain-damaged or insane . . . or worse.”
Kirk shrugged. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take, Bones.”
“Hell, yes,” Shaun agreed. “Let’s do this.”
“Think back,” Spock said. “Recall the precise moment you encountered the probe, the last moment your minds were where they belonged.”
He stood between the men, who reclined on adjacent beds in sickbay. His fingers were splayed across their brows. Diagnostic monitors reported on their vital signs, with particular attention paid to their brain waves. Dr. McCoy and Nurse Chapel looked on anxiously. Spock closed his eyelids, both sets, to block out the distractions of the physical world. He cleared his mind, making it an empty conduit.
