Captain's Blood

24

S.S. CALYPSO, REMUS, STARDATE 57488.2

Kirk enjoyed seeing Riker’s and Worf’s reaction to the bridge of the Calypso. They were both as aghast as he had been.

“This is not a Starfleet vessel,” Worf had grumbled.

“Is too,” Joseph had countered.

And then Worf had fixed the boy with a steely glare and growled, “Is not,” and that had been the end of the debate.

In the briefing that followed, Kirk was determined to bring together all the information the participants in this mission had previously kept compartmentalized. So La Forge again recounted, for Riker’s and Worf’s benefit, everything he and Picard had learned from Norinda about the Tal Shiar’s plans for war. Riker relayed Admiral Janeway’s analysis of the situation as established by Starfleet Intelligence. Kirk explained what he knew of Norinda’s first arrival in this galaxy.

And when they had shared all that they knew, Kirk could see that each of them, McCoy and Worf and even Joseph included, felt stronger, more secure. Stronger because, no longer in opposition with one another, they could now face the enemy together. More secure, because their stories fit together. They at last knew the truth.

But afterward, Riker still felt the need to take Kirk aside by the steps on the bridge. Kirk knew why, and asked McCoy to join them.

“Aren’t you feeling used?” Riker asked.

“By Starfleet?” Kirk said. “Always.”

“But Janeway sent you to search for the people who murdered Spock, even though Starfleet already had that information.”

“No, they didn’t,” Kirk said.

McCoy supplied more explanation. “Jim means Starfleet might have known the group responsible—the Tal Shiar—but they didn’t and still don’t know the individuals who did it. Those are the people we have to find.”

Riker shook his head, still conflicted. “But Starfleet’s going to make a deal with the Tal Shiar,” he said. “At least, the captain is going to attempt it.” He studied Kirk closely. “If I was asked to be part of a mission to negotiate with the murderers of someone close to me, I don’t think I could do it.”

Kirk pitied and envied Riker’s relative youth—the passion of a freshly minted starship captain. “The deal Jean-Luc wants to make with the Tal Shiar isn’t to reward them, Will. It’s a way to contain and diminish them. Is it the best way? I don’t know. But what’s important, and what Spock would want, is that Starfleet isn’t turning a blind eye to what happened.”

Kirk put his hand on Riker’s shoulder, as if giving a benediction. “You’re a starship captain, not a god. There are going to be times when you won’t be able to find solutions for the problems you face; you’ll only be able to choose directions that someday, maybe, if you’re lucky, will take you where you want to go. I think even Jean-Luc would agree with me that most of the times, it’s the journey that’s important, not the destination.”

Riker’s quick smile was infectious. “And the rest of the time, it’s the waiting, right?”

“Until you’re my age,” McCoy said. “Then it’s all waiting.”

As the men laughed, their discussion over, Joseph apparently deemed the moment right to hold Riker to his promise.

“Captain Riker—can you show me your yacht now?”

“Is that how you got here?” Kirk asked sharply. “Captain’s yacht? Not a shuttle?”

Riker grinned. “The yacht can do warp nine. Rank hath its privileges.”

But Kirk didn’t share Riker’s levity. “Weren’t you challenged?”

“I filed a flight plan from Latium. I was already in Romulan space.”

Riker hadn’t understood the point of his question. Kirk quickly made it clearer.

“We’re a civilian ship,” he said, “and we had to hold position at the Neutral Zone, at gunpoint, until we were escorted here. A captain’s yacht is not a diplomatic vessel—it’s a nicely appointed troop carrier. I don’t see how the Romulans let you into their home system without firing a shot across your bow.”

Kirk had gotten Riker’s attention. Riker swirled the liquid in his coffee cup, thinking. “Maybe the difference was…you originally had a flight plan for Romulus, and mine was for Remus.”

“So all of a sudden the Romulans don’t care who shows up around their sister planet?” Kirk asked.

Now even McCoy looked thoughtful, trying to make sense of the idea that the Romulans, renowned for their paranoia and sense of intrigue, apparently saw no need for either in Reman space.

“In fact, gentlemen,” Kirk continued, “when you think about it, if the Tal Shiar are planning to take action against Remus, then they’d have to be watching every ship arrival and departure here. Because if their enemies have discovered their plans, this is where and when an enemy would take action to stop them.”

“And here we are,” McCoy said slowly, “an abandoned Federation-registry vessel allowed to remain on orbit, and a Starfleet captain’s yacht docked with us…and no one’s even been by to shine a searchlight on our hull.”

“It is as if we’re being deliberately ignored,” Riker added.

Kirk didn’t agree. “Ignored? Highly unlikely, especially among Romulans.”

“Or else,” Riker offered, “they already know all about us, and know we aren’t a threat.”

But Kirk pointed out the flaw in that reasoning, too. “There’s only one way anyone could know who we are and what we’re doing here, Will. Instead of Norinda’s Jolan Movement having infiltrated the Tal Shiar, the Tal Shiar has infiltrated them.”

McCoy intervened abruptly. “I hate to use this kind of language, but if that’s true, then…then logic dictates everything Norinda has told us about the Tal Shiar and their plans is a lie, unknowingly, or otherwise.”

“Which means,” Kirk said, “we’ve just gone from having all the information about what’s going on here, to having none of it, in less than five minutes.”

Their somber and discouraging realization was interrupted by La Forge calling out from communications. “Captain Kirk! We’re getting a hail. It’s Norinda.”

Kirk reached out to rub his son’s head, thinking with a guilty start that his young son had again perhaps heard more than he needed to. “Sorry, Joseph. Captain Riker’s tour has to wait. And you have to stand way over there by Geordi and keep out of sight.”

When Joseph was dutifully beyond the range of the bridge’s visual imagers, Kirk called down to La Forge, “On screen.”

Norinda appeared in the center viewscreen on the forward bulkhead. The banks of exotic, multihued flowers behind her strongly reminded Kirk of the greenhouse deck of her ship, where they had first met in person. If she had chosen the backdrop for that reason, she’d done so in vain. He was immune to such nostalgia now.

“Listen carefully, Kirk.” Norinda’s tone was cold, implacable. “We discovered your deception. Steps—”

“What deception?” Kirk interrupted as innocently as he could.

“The holographic replica of your child.”

“What? That’s impossible. You think I don’t know my own son?”

Norinda’s voice hardened. “Steps are being taken to punish Picard, and Crusher, and Scott. However—”

“Harm them and I’ll—”

This time, Norinda cut him off. “However! They will be returned to you, and Picard will be free to contact the Tal Shiar, once you have sent T’Kol T’Lan down to me—to learn of his true heritage on Remus. In exchange, I offer you the lives of Picard and your friends and the billions of others who will be drawn into the civil war. In nineteen minutes, your ship’s orbit will bring you within transporter range of the Jolan Segment. Beam down T’Kol T’Lan then, or everyone dies.” She pressed a control off-screen. “Transmitting coordinates. Nineteen minutes.”

Norinda’s image winked off the screen, replaced by a forward sensor view of Remus, the terminator on the horizon, the dayside glowing brilliantly beyond.

Kirk was left staring into the expanding field of light, and slowly he became aware that everyone on the bridge was waiting for the captain to give the word; fearing that the father would be unable to do so.

But what the others didn’t understand, Kirk knew, was that this was not a decision that belonged only to him.

“Joseph,” Kirk said.

His son stood up beside La Forge. “Yes, sir.”

Kirk chose his words carefully. “Did you understand what that woman said?”

Joseph chewed his lip for a moment, troubled. “If I don’t beam down, then she’s going to hurt Uncle Jean-Luc, and Uncle Scotty, and Doctor Crusher. And there’s going to be a war.”

“What do you think about that?”

“I don’t think she should hurt anyone. And there shouldn’t be a war.”

Kirk used every technique Spock had ever taught him to keep his face from registering what he felt. He could not lead his child in this. “What do you think we should do?”

Joseph straightened, as he had when he had spoken to Admiral Janeway. “She’s a bad guy. We should stop her, Dad.”

“You mean, beam down there, as she said?”

Kirk saw Joseph’s eyes register apprehension. At far too young an age, he was faced with what all children want and fear at the same time: control.

“By myself?” he asked.

“No,” Kirk answered. “Never by yourself.”

“Us?”

Kirk nodded. As terrifying as this felt to him, the decision had to be his son’s. Kirk knew it was the only way either of them could ever live with the results of what might happen.

Joseph held firm. “We should beam down, Dad. We should stop the bad guys from hurting anyone.”

Pride and fear mixed equally in Kirk as he motioned to Joseph to come to him.

“Mister La Forge,” he said, “contact Norinda. Tell her Joseph and I will beam down together in a transporter swap. Tell her that Captain Picard, Mister Scott, and Doctor Crusher are to be on the pad at her location or there is no deal.”

“Aye, sir,” La Forge said, and he turned to his board.

With Joseph at his side, Kirk went to Worf. “Mister Worf, by any chance would you have a bat’leth?”

Worf squared his shoulders. “A bat’leth would be difficult to conceal. But I am a Klingon warrior in Romulan space. I sharpened my mek’leth on the journey here.” He leaned forward. “And I have daggers.”

Kirk approved. The mek’leth was the Klingon short sword. And he was familiar with it. “May we borrow them?”

Worf bared his teeth as if he were personally going into battle. “I would be honored.”

Riker joined them. “You know, we do have hand phasers on the yacht.”

“I doubt they’ll make it past the transporter filters, but you know what else we could use?”

Riker’s broad grin eclipsed his beard. “A starship? Fortunately, I know just where to find one.”

Kirk looked across the bridge, saw McCoy’s scowl, knew he didn’t approve. But it was far too late to worry about exposing Joseph to danger. Starfleet Intelligence had failed them all in that regard.

All Kirk could do now was remain determined not to repeat the error.

And with his son at his side, he was ready to stop the bad guys.