Star Trek: The Original Series: The Shocks of Adversity (30 page)

Kirk was appalled to hear that the Liruq woman could face the death penalty for putting
down a mutiny. “Do you really think that was a mistake?” he asked Laspas. “You don’t
think she should have supported you?”

Laspas shook his head in self-pity. “What I think hardly matters.”

“Laspas,” Kirk said, demanding the other man’s attention. “Do you believe it was a
mistake to refuse orders to commit genocide?”

“No,” he answered. “The only mistake I made was being so credulous about how we got
your warheads, and to believe you had so little integrity. Refusing to destroy an
entire planet? No, I have no regrets about that.”

“If you go back and fall on your sword, Laspas, what’s to keep your superiors from
attempting the same thing again?” Kirk asked. “If you allow yourself to be removed
from command of this ship, and someone like Satrav is put in charge . . .”

“I’m hardly in a position to allow or disallow anything,” Laspas said, shaking his
head.

Kirk stood up from his stool, moved back to the door, and pressed the interior illumination
control. Laspas roared in pain as the light struck his eyes, and Kirk raised his voice
above the other man’s to be heard. “You are still a decorated commander in the Domain
Defense Corps,” Kirk reminded Laspas as he peered through his slitted
eyelids. “You still have your ship, and you still hold a position of power and respect,
if you’re willing to use it.”

“Use it how? Against the Corps?” Laspas’s eyes adjusted to the light, and when he
could see Kirk’s face again, realization hit him. “You’re suggesting I become part
of the Taarpi,” he said.

“I’m suggesting you take a stand for your principles,” Kirk told him. “I know that
it’s easy for me, an outsider, to stand here and tell you what to do. You’ve dedicated
your life to the Domain and the Corps, just as I have to the Federation and Starfleet.
I’ve never been put in the kind of position you’re in now, and I can’t honestly say
what I would do if I were.” Though Kirk had butted heads with the admiralty and various
Federation officials in the past, he’d never been in a situation where he believed
his superiors had evil intentions and needed to be actively opposed. The captain shuddered
to think anything that even came close to the Domain scenario would be possible in
the Federation. But Kirk wasn’t naïve enough to believe the people who held power
in the Federation were infallible.

“You just told me you had no regrets about defying your superiors and averting an
atrocity,” Kirk continued. “What you need to ask yourself now is, whatever you decide
to do next, what kind of regrets
will
you have?”

Laspas said nothing, and turned away once
more. Realizing that there was nothing more he could add, Kirk turned to go. As he
did, he noticed one of Laspas’s father’s books lying open, spine up, on the deck,
as if it had been thrown across the cabin. Kirk picked it up and carefully unfolded
the creased interior pages. “And if that fails,” he said as he closed the book and
placed it on the bedside table, “ask yourself what Kawhye would do.”

*   *   *

Pavel Chekov watched dispassionately as the gold-colored ball rolled across the table,
bounced off one of the stubby lighted posts positioned in a seemingly random pattern
on the low-friction surface, and then drop through a hole into a pocket below. “That’s
two hundred credits you owe me,” Sulu said with a wide, gloating smile.

“How did you get so good at this game so fast?” Chekov asked. Neither of them had
even heard of dom-jot prior to coming aboard the Nalaing station, and now Sulu was
hustling him as if he’d been playing the game for his entire life.

“I used to play a lot of billiards as a kid,” Sulu said. “I think it’s what first
got me interested in physics.”

“I’ve played billiards, too,” Chekov said. “But this really isn’t all that close.”
While the object of both games was to use a cue stick to sink the balls placed on
the table, dom-jot also involved negotiating the obstacles arranged around the irregularly
shaped
table and activating the lights in random patterns controlled by the table’s circuitry.
As far as Chekov was concerned, it was all too complex for what should have been a
simple diversionary pastime.

Sulu shrugged and started pulling the balls out from the channel underneath and placing
them back on the tabletop. “Close enough so if you understand all the differences,
you can make adjustments. Double or nothing again?”

“I think I’ll just head back to the ship,” Chekov said as he laid his cue on the table.

“Come on,” Sulu cajoled. “I’ll spot you two points this time.”

Chekov shook his head. “I’ll see you on the bridge next shift.” The ensign hadn’t
been comfortable leaving the ship and coming aboard the station. After the security
breach, he had been in a heightened state of concern—or paranoia, according to Sulu.
It had taken several minutes of relentless cajoling from him before Chekov agreed
to a short visit. All during their dinner and the drinks during their dom-jot match,
his mind had been fixed on what was going on back on the ship, and whether Lieutenant
Arex was keeping close enough tabs on any potential security violations.

Outside the recreation hall, Chekov stepped onto a moving walkway, which ran the full
length of the station and would take him back to the dock where the
Enterprise
was now moored. The broad
concourse he was carried along was lined on both sides by restaurants and shops, all
doing a steady business, catering to a variety of unfamiliar aliens.

And one familiar one. Several meters ahead, walking down the center of the second
walkway, which ran in the opposite direction across the station, Chekov spotted one
of the big Rokean guards who had ejected him from the
814
command center. The ensign froze in place, even as he told himself that there was
no reason to be worried—he wasn’t coming for him.

Except he was. The other walkway riders gave the uniformed soldier a wide berth as
he made a beeline for the Starfleet officer. Chekov tensed as the Rokean quickly closed
the distance between them and then stepped over the low divide between the two conveyors
without losing balance or showing any other sign of unsteadiness. “Mister Sulu,” he
said as they now stood face-to-face.

“It’s Chekov,” he corrected him, holding himself steady.

The guard shrugged, as if the distinction was unimportant, but then surprised Chekov
by saying, “I hoped to find you here. I wanted to offer an apology to you.”

“You do?” Chekov asked in disbelief.

“You humans are strange, but you’re not as dangerous as Second Commander Satrav said
you were. We should not have beaten you.”

Chekov’s hand subconsciously moved up to touch his nose, and he willed it to fall
back to his side as he told the soldier, “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“And even though there was no one left alive on that transport,” the Rokean continued,
“it was good that you saw that it wasn’t just an accident.” From the darkening of
his expression, Chekov guessed that word was getting out about the Domain’s culpability
for the loss of the transport. It had occurred to him earlier that, had he not found
a reason for the
814
to divert from their original course, he could have spared himself a good deal of
pain. Knowing his actions had helped to uncover an atrocity made him feel a little
better about it.

The Rokean then gave Chekov a big, stubby-toothed smile, and squeezed both of his
shoulders in his large hands. “You are a credit to your race, Chekov.”

“Thank you.” Chekov winced. “You too.”

*   *   *

With the press of a single button, the low steady thrum of the giant matter/antimatter
reactor was joined by two higher alternating notes, creating a steady rhythm that,
judging from the smile Scotty wore as he turned from the situation console, was music
to his ears. “Isn’t that the most beautiful sound ye ever heard, sir?”

Kirk shared the engineer’s smile. “Definitely among the top three,” he agreed. The
warp plasma relays had been restored and realigned, and the mellifluous sounds emitting
from the engines confirmed this. “Anything else left outstanding, Scotty?”

“Only a few minor touch-up repairs,” he answered. “Considering the fact that the Nalaingers
have never seen anything like the
Enterprise
before, they did a hell of a job. There are some things only we can do, but nothing
that should prove any trouble.”

Kirk crossed his arms and tilted his head at the engineer. “If I’m hearing you right,
Scotty . . . there’s really no reason for us to head straight back to Starbase 43.
Is that right?”

Scotty’s smile slipped slightly, but he answered, “Aye.” Then the engineer shrugged
his shoulders and added, “She’s spent enough time in dock; I suppose it’s high time
she got back to doing what she was meant to do.”

Kirk gave the chief engineer a broad smile and clapped him on the shoulder. “Plan
to get under way as soon as possible.”

“Ready anytime you are, sir.”

The captain headed to the closest turbolift, and minutes later, the doors opened onto
the bridge. Stepping off, he saw the image on the main viewscreen of the repair station,
along with the planet
Nalaing slowly rotating behind it. “Why, Mister Spock,” Kirk said as he moved down
into the command well, where his first officer was in conversation with Doctor McCoy.
“I hadn’t realized that hanging upside down from their repair dock bothered you as
much as it did me.”

Spock stood up from the command chair. “Even if I were capable of such a trivial emotional
reaction, Captain,” he said, “there would have been nothing to prompt it since we
were never upside down.”

“Funny,” McCoy interjected, “once we were clear of the station, you wasted no time
in giving the order to reorient the ship to match the station.”

The first officer raised an eyebrow at him. “I was following standard procedure, Doctor.”

McCoy scoffed, and Kirk watched for any slight reaction from Spock. When he decided
none was forthcoming, he broke eye contact and settled into his chair. “Mister Chekov,
we should still be within twenty light-years of the Frattare 85 quasar?” That stellar
phenomenon had been their next mission objective.

“Eighteen point three, to be precise,” Chekov answered. “Shall I lay in a course?”

Before Kirk could answer in the affirmative, Uhura interrupted. “Captain? I’m picking
up a general hail from an incoming Domain vessel.”

The captain went into full alert mode, and he noticed like reactions from Sulu and
Chekov, seated
at their stations in front of him. “Let’s hear it, Lieutenant,” he told Uhura.

“Starvessel Class III/
814
, code 8-22 from Short-Range Enforcement Vessel Class I/
7704
. Codes 8-0, 7-87, and 7-89.”

Kirk recognized the voice of Fallag, and the call number of the vessel that had been
docked in their hangar bay days earlier, but beyond that, he understood none of the
rest of the message. “Uhura?” he asked, turning to the communications officer.

“He’s saying the
814
hasn’t reported back,” she translated, “and is asking for an explanation and status
update.”

Spock stepped up to his station and reviewed his readouts. “Long-range sensors are
showing four enforcement vessels, including Fallag’s ship, escorting a Goeg Domain
Class I starvessel, approaching Nalaing at warp four. Estimated arrival in sixteen
minutes, eleven seconds.”

“A Class I,” Kirk echoed. Those were the Goeg Domain Defense Corps’s largest and most
powerful ships, he recalled. That the Domain was sending one to check up on the
814
was not good news.

“Jim . . .” McCoy said, recognizing the conflict now playing across his friend’s face.
“We can’t stay here. These people aren’t our responsibility.” Kirk knew he was right,
of course, but the idea of leaving now . . .

Kirk’s thoughts were interrupted by another,
familiar voice.
“This is Commander Laspas responding. The orders which had been issued to this vessel
were both illegal and immoral. This officer and his crew have declined to follow.”

Kirk wanted to cheer out loud. The
814
had broken orbit a day earlier, without any notice to the
Enterprise
or to the authorities on Nalaing. He had regretted not knowing what decision the
commander had come to. He was heartened to know that decision now.

“Laspas, code 9-109,”
said a third unseen party.

“That was from the Class I vessel,” Uhura said. “They just demanded Laspas’s surrender.”

“This officer and his crew also decline to face a tribunal run by those who issued
the illegal and immoral orders. This officer has evidence that his superiors have
acted to intimidate our allies in the Urpire Curia, have violated the sovereign rights
of an alien government, the United Federation of Planets—”

Fallag’s voice cut in, trying to drown out Laspas’s.
“Code 9-109! Code 9-109!”

But the Goeg commander, refusing to be cowed, raised his own voice.
“—and have committed numerous other crimes against citizens of the Goeg Domain. This
evidence is currently being transmitted.”

“Code 8-59!”
Fallag shouted, and the transmission from his ship cut off with an audible pop.

“Comm silence,” Chekov interpreted, turning around in his seat and flashing an amused
smile. “They’re trying to shut him up.”

Kirk nodded. “Afraid to hear the truth.” He wondered if any of Laspas’s data transmission
had gotten through before the code 8-59 was issued.

That unvoiced question was answered moments later, when Spock reported, “It appears
that the Class I starvessel has dropped out of warp, beyond this system.”

“Engine problems?” Kirk inquired.

“Negative,” Spock said, lifting his face from his viewer. “They’ve just stopped.”