Captain's Glory

5

S.S. BELLE REVE, VULCAN

STARDATE 58552.2

When Kirk had taken formal command of the Belle Reve, the first thing he had done was reconfigure the bridge. Or, to be accurate, he had had Scotty reconfigure it.

As part of the Calypso, the ship’s bridge had been a tightly constrained control room, with the captain’s office on the aft bulkhead, separated from the crew by a transparent wall. Information flowed in only one direction, from a particular crew station to the captain. Somewhere, sometime, for some other captain, that command structure had been acceptable for the merchant fleet or a private yacht. But Kirk believed in Starfleet’s original ideal of sharing critical information among all senior personnel. So now his bridge was almost circular-a drawn-out ellipse, at least-with the captain’s chair elevated just back of the center point. There, Kirk was properly surrounded by duty stations, with all other bridge personnel able to see all displays at all times.

About the only key component left over from the old design was the three-panel main viewscreen. On it now were three different magnifications of Vulcan terrain as the Belle Reve orbited that world. Kirk had come to appreciate having three different sets of critical information available to him, and had asked Scotty to retain that system as it was.

Everything else on the bridge, though, had changed. Most of it had been custom-built by a private shipyard under confidential contract to Starfleet. The result was that all of the ship’s brand-new, state-of-the-art, cutting-edge equipment was encased in artistically dented, distressed, and discolored console housings. Kirk smiled, remembering how much Joseph, his child, had been fascinated by that last stage of Scott’s installation, when a team of specialists had come aboard with their paints and tools to be sure the Belle Reve looked as old and unthreatening on the inside as she did on the outside.

“I see you’ve added your own special touches,” Janeway said as she stepped from the ladder alcove onto the bridge. She hadn’t been aboard the Belle Reve since the refit.

“You signed off on all of them,” Kirk reminded her. Somehow, almost everything Janeway said to him felt as if it was the prelude to an argument.

But the admiral didn’t seem concerned about the extent of the modifications. Nor did she bring up its cost, which was considerable. Even in an era without money, Starfleet’s time and resources were measured and apportioned according to need, and there was never enough of either to accomplish everything required. She was more interested in the duty stations. “You actually have a crew of eight?” That was the number of chairs ringing the new bridge.

“The ship’s fully automated for standard operations,” Kirk said.

“So there’re only the four of you on board right now?”

Kirk nodded. Most of the time, he was happy to take on passengers, especially researchers needing transportation from one system to another for their work. He enjoyed the company of knowledgeable people, especially those in fields he didn’t know about or had never even known existed. The more he learned, the more he realized how little he knew, and how much he wanted to know it all. The researchers’ presence was also a valuable experience for Joseph, opening the child’s eyes to all the possibilities that life held for him.

“Are you going to call them?” Janeway asked.

Kirk complied with her indirect request. Within minutes, ship’s engineer Montgomery Scott, ship’s physician Leonard McCoy, and Kirk’s child, Joseph, were assembled by the tactical console with Janeway and Kirk.

McCoy sat down heavily in the console operator’s chair. He claimed his leg implants were troubling him. Though Kirk had never really known a time when McCoy wasn’t complaining about something, given that his friend was one hundred and fifty-six years old, Kirk was inclined to believe him.

Kirk was also beginning to suspect that Starfleet Medical researchers were correct when they suggested that something McCoy had experienced during his early service in Starfleet might have had a bearing on his near-record age. In all the worlds of the Federation, there were only ten other humans known to be biologically older. Medical’s search for this fact hadn’t included Kirk or Scott, since they had arrived in this age through other than natural means.

Personally, Kirk suspected that McCoy’s encounter with the teaching device of Sigma Draconis VI could have triggered his longevity. Certainly McCoy had appeared rejuvenated after that event. Though the immediately apparent intellectual aftereffects had rapidly diminished, their final stages had subtly lingered for months afterward. Perhaps his body had been affected as well as his mind.

Scott, in contrast to McCoy, stood by the console, uncharacteristically motionless. More usually, he was to be found immersed in at least twenty tasks at once. Though not a week went by that the veteran engineer didn’t talk about finally following through on his plans to retire, there was always something else on the Belle Reve that needed his expertise, another test that he felt he should run.

Privately, Kirk doubted that his old friend would ever retire. For most Starfleet personnel he’d known through the years, retirement was something other people did. Montgomery Scott, he believed, would prove no exception. As long as starships flew, Scotty would be flying with them.

The wild card in Kirk’s skeleton crew was his own flesh and blood, his young son, Joseph. “Wild” because Joseph was also the son of his beloved Teilani, who within her had combined the heritage of humans, Romulans, and Klingons. With an all-too-human father, Joseph truly was more than the sum of his parts.

Further complicating his relationship with his child, Kirk couldn’t be sure that Joseph was his son. According to McCoy’s genetic analysis, it was equally likely that Joseph might be his daughter. Joseph’s uniquely derived physiology was such that when he matured, his body might develop in either form, or neither. But for now, at a chronological age of almost six and a physiological age almost twice that, Kirk’s child was precocious, growing alarmingly fast, and a constant source of amazement to his father.

Joseph was also one of the most striking-looking beings Kirk had ever seen, parental pride notwithstanding.

When Joseph had stepped onto the bridge, even Janeway’s first reaction to his appearance was of unconcealed surprise, and Kirk guessed that the admiral had seen almost as many different aliens in her career as he had.

Joseph today was slightly taller than a meter and a half. The details of his musculature, which varied slightly from standard human or Romulan patterns, could not be easily discerned through clothing.

Joseph’s face, however, was another matter. The startling red skin of his early years had faded to a more natural-for humans-brown. He remained hairless, though his Klingon head ridges had grown slightly more pronounced, his Romulan ears more pointed, and his Trill-like dappling darker.

But rather than amounting to a hodgepodge mixture of disparate parts that didn’t appear to fit together, the overall effect was somehow beautiful and right. Kirk often had the impression that the way his child appeared was the way all humanoids were supposed to look. He sometimes wondered if somehow over the aeons, Joseph’s pattern had been fractured among many worlds, to create the mutually distinct appearances of different species. Certainly the genetic information McCoy had been given by Beverly Crusher, regarding Doctor Richard Galen’s postulated “progenitor” race, bore many resemblances to Joseph’s genetic profile.

But Kirk had not encouraged McCoy’s efforts to look into that inexplicable connection too closely. Sometimes, he knew, it was best simply to take things at face value. And to himself, if to no one else, he was wise enough to admit that he was concerned about what McCoy might discover. For now, Joseph was simply his mother’s and his father’s child. Kirk was not in favor of any research or findings that might change that.

Fortunately or unfortunately, other than his compelling appearance, Joseph was no different from any other human child entering his teenage years.

“Hey, Dad” were Joseph’s first words of greeting as he arrived on the bridge.

Kirk gave his son a gentle reminder of etiquette. “You remember Admiral Janeway.”

Joseph looked at the admiral for a few moments, as if comparing her image with a vast store of identification pictures in some distant databank, then brightened and held out his long-fingered hand. “Sure. When we went to Remus. Hi, Admiral.”

Janeway shook Joseph’s hand and, despite years of Starfleet’s best instruction in protocol, could only say, “Joseph, you’ve grown.”

“Not surprising, considering he can pack away food like a targ,” McCoy said.

Joseph rolled his eyes. “Hey, Uncle Bones, Uncle Scotty.”

McCoy patted Joseph on his arm, Scott nodded.

Joseph gave his father a questioning look. “Is this a staff meeting?”

“The admiral has something to tell us about Spock,” Kirk said. “I thought we should all hear it.” Even absent, Spock remained a part of all their lives. There was an immediate change in the mood of Kirk’s friends and child.

“Admiral,” Kirk said.

Janeway didn’t bother with preambles.

“This is what we know,” she said, and the briefing began.

The disappearances had started almost a year ago. If Spock was one of the victims, then it was possible he was the first.

As for the others, one hundred and twenty-eight– or twenty-nine– in all, Starfleet Intelligence had no answers. There was no pattern they could discern that clearly connected all the victims.

Indeed, Intelligence had not become involved in the investigation until seven months earlier, after at least fifty disappearances had already occurred with nothing to suggest a link between them.

In some instances, a single individual had vanished. An archaeologist on a dig on Bajor. A physician on leave from Starfleet Medical. A computer engineer at the Daystrom Institute who had walked into his office one day, and never left.

Kirk’s interest was caught by Janeway’s mention of the Bajoran archaeologist. Two years ago, Kirk and Picard had attempted to take a vacation on Bajor and dive among underwater ruins. Several archaeologists had died at that site. At the time, all of their deaths had been accounted for as part of a failed Cardassian plot to obtain a lost “orb,” also known by Bajorans as a Tear of the Prophets.

But Janeway added for Kirk’s benefit that Starfleet Intelligence had already concluded that the more recent case of the missing archaeologist appeared to be unrelated to his and Picard’s Bajor experience.

Kirk noted Janeway’s use of the word “appeared,” but let her continue.

Starfleet Intelligence had become involved in the scope of the disappearances during their investigation of a disaster at Starbase 499.

On stardate 57503.1, the base had been destroyed. In addition to the entire staff of Starfleet personnel and civilians, the dead included six admirals, four starship captains and their science officers, and three civilians.

In response to his questioning, Janeway confirmed for Kirk that the admirals and captains had been present at the base to attend a classified meeting regarding the disappearance of the Starship Monitor almost four years earlier. Kirk knew the Monitor and her captain; both had been instrumental in helping him and Picard wipe out the threat of the machine world that had created V’Ger and might also have given rise to the Borg. The details of the Monitor’s loss and almost certain destruction were tragic. Her crew and captain were heroes.

At first, Janeway explained, there seemed to be no connection between the subject of that meeting and the disaster that befell the starbase-the inexplicable destruction of its static-warp-field power generator.

The generator failure, however, became the link to a number of other malfunctions-some large, some small-that did appear to have a bearing on the other disappearances.

Warp technology.

Almost eighty of the missing individuals-human, Vulcan, Betazoid, and Tellarite-were involved in some way with the study of multiphysics and the ongoing refinement of warp propulsion.

Their areas of warp expertise varied. Only a few were involved in cutting-edge research. The missing archaeologist had written a paper thirteen years before about the early development of warp theory on Bajor; there were no secrets there.

But, as Kirk knew, the Monitor had disappeared on a mission to test a prototype transwarp drive, based, in part, on recovered Borg technology.

Janeway concluded with a summation of Starfleet Intelligence’s best estimate of the threat they were facing: “An enemy or enemies unknown appear to be launching a series of covert strikes against Fleet and Federation assets, with the purpose of diminishing our ability to make further developments in warp technology.”

Kirk thought it was an elegant, even logical summation.

Except for one detail.

It was wrong.

“What about Spock?” Kirk asked.

“Admittedly,” Janeway confessed, “his disappearance doesn’t have a strong connection to the pattern identified by Intelligence.”

“It doesn’t have any connection,” Scott said bluntly.

Janeway sighed as if in resignation. Kirk’s interest sharpened. If the admiral had been hoping to at least keep back some details about the investigation, she seemed closer to surrender. He needed to learn something he didn’t already know.

Janeway closed in on the crux of the mystery. “Starfleet Intelligence put forward the question: Who would benefit from slowing down our ongoing development of warp technology? Already our ships are capable of staggering velocities. In terms of conflict or space battle, we’re well beyond the threshold velocities at which it’s even practical to engage in offensive maneuvers. So Intelligence looked into the defensive aspects of warp technology, and that’s where the link to Spock comes in.”

Kirk saw it at once.

“Norinda,” he said.

Janeway nodded. “The entire Jolan Movement.”

McCoy coughed. “At my age, I expect to be confused about most things. But this time I’m really lost.”

Kirk laid it out for his friend. “Norinda wanted to incite a civil war between Romulus and Remus. The first strike was going to be simultaneous attacks on three Reman cities, carried out by warbirds traveling at warp velocities… simply crashing into them.”

McCoy looked troubled.

So did Scott. “Kilo for kilo, the energy release would be greater than a matter-antimatter reaction.”

“Obviously,” Janeway said, “if hypervelocity warp weapons are on the horizon, Starfleet needs to build a defense.”

“Admiral, there’s no shield ye can make that’ll stop something with th’ mass of a warbird traveling at warp.”

“No shield that we know of,” Janeway conceded. “But they used to think it was impossible to travel faster than light.”

“Technically, it still is,” Scott said with his characteristic passion for all things technical. “Y’see, the warp field alters the dimensions of space-time so that our relativistic framework remains unchanged and we never actually move at a velocity greater than…” His voice trailed off as he registered the impatient looks on the others’ faces. Basic warp theory, like calculus, was taught in the earliest grades, and no one on this bridge needed a refresher course. “Sorry,” he said. “You were saying…”

Janeway turned her attention back to Kirk. “Norinda wanted to use warp ships as weapons. Norinda disappeared. When she disappeared, Spock disappeared, as well. That’s the connection Starfleet Intelligence is pursuing.”

“You think that creature is still out there,” McCoy said, “determined to strike again.”

“At least one working group in Intelligence believes that’s possible. Whatever her species, Norinda is a fanatic. She’s been talking about bringing ‘love’ to the galaxy for more than a century.”

Kirk looked away from Janeway, to study the surface of Vulcan as it moved steadily across the trio of screens at the fore of the bridge.

“Captain Kirk…?” Janeway said. “You don’t seem convinced.”

Kirk wasn’t. He was certain that whatever Norinda’s true motives were, they still hadn’t been fully revealed. But before Janeway could question him about his doubts, her combadge chirped.

She touched it. “Janeway.”

“Admiral, we’ve received a priority-one message from Starfleet Command, your eyes only. We need to beam you back at once.”

Janeway shot an apologetic look at Kirk. “An enthusiastic exec,” she explained. “He’s not familiar with what your ship can do.” She touched her combadge again. “Mister Nas, the Belle Reve is capable of receiving encrypted Starfleet transmissions. Please forward the message to me here.”

After what Kirk considered to be a long pause, Janeway’s executive officer replied, not quite as enthusiastically. “Aye, aye, Admiral. Transmitting now.”

Janeway looked at Kirk questioningly. Kirk pointed to a battered communications console. Paint was flaking from its side.

“Joseph,” Kirk prompted.

“You’ve gotta see this, Admiral,” Joseph said to Janeway as she followed him to the console. He pressed his thumb on a small control that looked like anything but a biometric reader, then he tapped a code into an out-of-date keypad. A moment later, a back panel on the console opened to reveal a translucent control surface of the latest Starfleet design.

“Enter your code here,” Joseph said grandly, “and the message will come up here.” He pointed to another panel as it slid sideways and a small viewscreen rotated up from the new opening.

Janeway thanked him; then, at his father’s beckoning, Joseph joined Kirk, McCoy, and Scott as they gathered by the turbolift doors at the back of the bridge, to allow the admiral her privacy.

The message Janeway received took her less than two minutes to read. She returned to Kirk, cheeks flushed, skin pale. Her summation was succinct. “The Cochrane Institute has been attacked. Completely leveled. Starfleet’s top engineers were there for a critical test. Authorities aren’t certain if there’re any survivors.”

Even Joseph picked up on how serious this development was, just from the adults’ reaction.

Janeway held her hand to her combadge. “There’s nothing covert about what’s happened, Captain. The Federation is at war.”

She tapped her badge. Kirk understood. The admiral’s mind was already elsewhere. Her body would be as soon as she could beam it there.

“Janeway to Sovereign. Tell conn to prepare for immediate departure. One to beam back….”

Kirk nodded to Janeway as she quickly faded into the golden glow of the transporter effect. It felt odd not to be heading to the center of the action. But he still had a mission of his own. Spock.

Kirk’s friends shared his conviction. Once, they, too, had been indivisible from whatever concerned the Federation. But they were individuals, now. Others had taken, and would continue to take, their places on the front lines.

McCoy found a new station to sit at. “They’re doing it again: telling us too little, too late,” he grumbled.

“D’ye actually think it’s possible they’re on to something?” Scott asked. “Could they really help us find Spock?”

Kirk considered the question as he watched Joseph hurry to the conn station and adjust the visual sensors.

“More than a hundred people have disappeared… there’s got to be something to that,” Kirk said. He just didn’t know if that something was what Janeway and Starfleet Intelligence said it was.

On the three-part screen, the impressive silhouette of Janeway’s flagship appeared-the U.S.S. Sovereign, the original vessel that had given rise to the class that now included Jean-Luc’s Enterprise-E.

“They’re powering up,” Joseph reported.

Kirk looked over at his son-his child. As most children did, Joseph was going through a stage in which he was utterly consumed by starships. He could recite the statistics for almost half the Fleet.

“They’re establishing their warp field….”

Joseph was also an avid student of the Belle Reve’s sensors and scanners. A Starfleet career wasn’t out of the question, though Kirk was determined not to force any decisions on him until the child’s own interests had had more time to develop.

“Standard power curve,” Joseph announced, correctly interpreting the tactical screens at his station.

Kirk saw Scott grinning.

“Takes after his father,” Kirk said.

Scott frowned. “I was thinkin’ he took after his Uncle Scotty.”

Kirk’s laugh was lost as the bridge filled with light.

The three viewscreens flared with the silent destructive explosion that struck the U.S.S. Sovereign.

Janeway’s ship was torn apart.

The war had come to Vulcan.