Star Trek Part 6

"We have a proverb where I come from. 'A sweet taste does not remain forever in the mouth.' Were you running simulations with the mouth-breather hiding under your bed? Or did you mean 'stimulations'?"

Not in the least embarra.s.sed despite being caught in flagrante delicto flagrante delicto-or at least in dishabille dishabille-Kirk emerged from beneath the bed and stood up on the far side. Uhura's underwear, he noted with a touch of regret, was disappointingly conventional.

"Hey, I got one, I got one," he volunteered. "'A man on the ground cannot fall.'"

She didn't know whether to laugh or applaud. "That's a South African proverb. I'm not from Southern Africa."

He raised a hand, his voice solemn. "And thus by such stealthy means we draw ever nearer to your actual first name. Your hearing's pretty good. You sure sure both your parents are human?" both your parents are human?"

She shook her head and sighed. "Get gone, Jim. It's my a.s.s too if Administration catches you in this room." She nodded in his direction. "Never mind in that condition."

"In what condi-oh." Having the grace to finally look somewhat abashed, he began climbing into the pile of clothes that had been discarded on the far side of the bed. While he put on his clothes, Uhura addressed her roommate in Orion Prime. Already she had sufficient command of numerous alien humanoid tongues to render her tone disapproving. She was utterly indifferent to her current state of undress.

"You know he's been through half the cadet corps since he got here? There are rumors not all of them were even humanoid."

Such a comment might have drawn an emotional response from another human female. To an Orion the veiled accusation amounted to little more than a straightforward, utterly uncontroversial statement of fact. Cadet Gaila's response was tart and matter-of-fact.

"Which half are you you in?" in?"

Uhura shrugged. "He's not my type. Too abrasive, too self-centered, too much in love with himself. I prefer someone capable of a little more self-effacement and a lot less impetuosity." Shifting back to standard Federation English, she looked at Kirk. "Stop staring. Put your pants on."

Kirk pulled his shirt down over his head.

Nude from the waist down save for his underwear and boots, he smiled at her-and spoke in Orion Prime. "I would, but you're standing on them." Switching back to English he added, "And hardly half. half. You're rounding up that number. Not that I'm not flattered, mind." You're rounding up that number. Not that I'm not flattered, mind."

Taking a step back, she picked up his pants and threw them at him. He caught them easily, hoping she would notice the grin he flashed in return. He took his time pulling on one leg, then the other. When he was done he strode confidently past the two women: a disapproving Uhura with her arms folded over her chest, a winsome Gaila with arms behind her back.

"And," he added as he made his exit, "they were all all humanoid-I think." humanoid-I think."

The communications officer's tone was more than bored: Uhura sounded almost resentful. "We are receiving a distress signal from the U.S.S. Kobayashi Maru. U.S.S. Kobayashi Maru. The ship has lost power and is stranded. Starfleet Command has ordered us to rescue them." The ship has lost power and is stranded. Starfleet Command has ordered us to rescue them."

Whipping around in the command chair, James T. Kirk hastened to correct her.

"Starfleet Command has ordered us to rescue them-Captain."

She glared at him sharply, then turned back to her console. From another station, McCoy recited in a resigned monotone.

"Klingon vessels have entered the Neutral Zone and they are firing upon us."

At this point in the simulation cadet responses varied from panicked, to confused, to nonexistent. On this occasion Kirk succeeded in providing one that, insofar as any present could recall, was entirely original. Not necessarily sensible, not even wholly coherent, but original.

"That's okay."

His fellow cadets gawked at him. Even Uhura turned from the communications station. It was left to McCoy to comment.

"It's okay okay?"

From the command chair, Kirk waved diffidently. "Yeah-don't worry about it."

Above and to one side of the simulation bridge, puzzled test administrators and technicians exchanged a number of profoundly bemused looks.

"Did he just say 'Don't worry about it'?" one administrator asked his colleague.

Turning back to the simulation chamber, his cohort's eyes narrowed as they focused tightly on the cadet presently occupying the command chair.

"What's he doing...?"

"Three more Klingon warbirds decloaking and targeting our ship," McCoy reported from his position. He glanced toward the command chair, occupied by a friend who possibly had lost his mind. "I don't suppose that's a problem either?"

Kirk let himself slide a little lower in the chair. "Nah."

The cadet manning tactical reported in. "They're firing, Captain. All All of them." of them."

Kirk nodded in understanding. "Alert medical bay to prepare to receive all crew members from the damaged ship."

"And how do you expect us us to rescue to rescue them," them," Uhura pointed out sharply, "when Uhura pointed out sharply, "when we're we're surrounded and under attack by the Klingons?" surrounded and under attack by the Klingons?"

Briefly, he sounded like someone in command. "Alert medical." "Alert medical."

Visibly annoyed, she complied.

"We're being hit," McCoy reported. "Shields at sixty percent."

"I understand," Kirk replied blithely.

How have I let myself be roped into this farce? McCoy found himself wondering. "Should we at least, oh, I dunno-fire back?" McCoy found himself wondering. "Should we at least, oh, I dunno-fire back?"

Kirk's brow furrowed as if he were deep in thought. "Mmm-no," he finally replied.

"Of course not," McCoy muttered under his breath. "What an absurd notion. Forgive me for bringing it up."

Above and outside the perfectly replicated command deck, a number of technicians busied themselves at their consoles fine-tuning simulation variables according to the responses propagated by the crew training in the room below them. Computer programs could be learned, predicted, and defeated. Computer programs undergoing continuous modification by live partic.i.p.ants possessed critical aspects of ongoing variability that could not be memorized. In other words, the simulation technicians supplied the real-life responses no program could provide.

As they followed the progress of the simulation, the test administrators and technicians were careful not to get too close to the tech seated slightly off to the left at the main console. With her bright green skin she was immediately identifiable as an Orion humanoid. Since it was both visually and chemically unavoidable, admiration of such beings was permitted, so long as the admirer did not linger in the vicinity. It was recognized that extended proximity to an Orion female was distracting to other humanoids. In fact, it could be downright dangerous.

Anyone who happened to be looking in her direction suddenly found themselves wrenched back to reality.

Instrument consoles suddenly went berserk and died. Information that should have been transmitted was not. Commands to the simulation consoles below died aborning. Perplexed monitors and baffled instructors struggled to redirect, rea.s.sign, and reboot important instrumentation, all to no avail.

Then, as abruptly and inexplicably as every monitor had gone blank and every console had died, lights came back on, monitors winked back to life, and telltales resumed spitting out information.

Below, Kirk continued to relax in the command chair, waiting. The report he antic.i.p.ated was not long in coming.

"The Kobayashi Maru Kobayashi Maru is still in distress," Uhura reported, "but-the Klingons have stopped firing. They are dropping shields and powering down their weapons!" The astonishment in her voice verged on the childlike. is still in distress," Uhura reported, "but-the Klingons have stopped firing. They are dropping shields and powering down their weapons!" The astonishment in her voice verged on the childlike.

"Imagine that." Kirk finally straightened in the chair. "Then I guess we might as well respond. Arm photons. Prepare to fire on the Klingon warbirds."

"Jim," McCoy reported, "their shields are up."

Kirk turned innocent eyes on his friend. "Are they?"

McCoy looked back at his console. Blinking, he leaned as close to it as he could without losing focus. "Uh-no," he finally admitted.

Kirk nodded with satisfaction. "Fire on all enemy ships. One photon each should do. No reason to waste munitions."

"Yes-yes sir." sir." The tactical officer complied. Unable to resist turning from their own instruments, every one of the cadets on deck momentarily put aside their individual a.s.signments as they looked toward the forward screen. Unimpeded by shields, five photon torpedoes struck five Klingon warships head on. Each warbird exploded with satisfying brilliance. As the resulting fragments filled the monitor, McCoy once more looked toward the command chair. Only this time he was smiling. The tactical officer complied. Unable to resist turning from their own instruments, every one of the cadets on deck momentarily put aside their individual a.s.signments as they looked toward the forward screen. Unimpeded by shields, five photon torpedoes struck five Klingon warships head on. Each warbird exploded with satisfying brilliance. As the resulting fragments filled the monitor, McCoy once more looked toward the command chair. Only this time he was smiling.

The simulation was not quite over. Kirk turned toward the communications station. "Signal the Kobayashi Maru. Kobayashi Maru. Tell them they are now safe and their rescue is a.s.sured. Begin rescue of the stranded crew." He glanced toward the helmsman. "Bring us in close and arrange for shuttle transfer at leisure, beginning with the most seriously wounded." As he let his eyes rove around the simulation room, his gaze was met by a succession of flabbergasted stares. Tell them they are now safe and their rescue is a.s.sured. Begin rescue of the stranded crew." He glanced toward the helmsman. "Bring us in close and arrange for shuttle transfer at leisure, beginning with the most seriously wounded." As he let his eyes rove around the simulation room, his gaze was met by a succession of flabbergasted stares.

"So. We've eliminated all enemy ships, no one on board was injured, and the successful rescue of the Kobayashi Maru Kobayashi Maru crew is under way." For the first time he let his attention wander upward to the windows of the administration room. "Anything else?" crew is under way." For the first time he let his attention wander upward to the windows of the administration room. "Anything else?"

The stunned silence among the administrators was no less profound than that which had settled over the simulation chamber below. Finally one turned to the figure standing ramrod straight alongside him.

"How'd that kid beat your test?" the administrator inquired in disbelief.

Spock's gaze did not swerve from the simulation bridge. In particular, it was locked on one partic.i.p.ant: the grinning cadet who occupied the command chair. The test designer's tone was in no way properly reflective of what was going through his mind.

"I do not know..."

The immense ship was alone. Continually expanding, never to be finished, the Narada' Narada's automated constructors labored in the cold and silence of deep s.p.a.ce to add still more capacity to the vessel's interior while rendering its appearance ever more intimidating. In this it reflected its captain's ambition as well as his aims.

They had been waiting for this moment for a long time. Not so long in galactic terms; a quarter century in terrestrial years. On the bridge all eyes including Nero's were focused on the forward viewscreen. At the moment it showed nothing but star field. It had been thus for two days now. As time pa.s.sed and nothing happened, a hesitant Ayel stepped forward to venture a comment. He did not do so lightly. As much as he respected his captain, as much as he held him in awe, he knew that Nero would not hesitate to kill him in an instant if he thought that his trusted second-in-command had for a single moment faltered in their common purpose.

"Perhaps, Captain, our calculations were incomplete. Considering that it was necessary to plot the energy distortions involved against the projected time frame under such conditions and involving physics that are as much theoretical as proven, it would not be surprising if the delivered result is imperfect."

"No." Nero spoke with the confidence of one for whom science and mathematics were intimate servants of self. "It is now. Now and here. We wait."

As it turned out, both Romulans were right. The calculations were were slightly off, and the now was only slightly postponed. The great ship trembled perceptibly as s.p.a.ce warped before it. The distance between them was substantial, but not in interstellar terms. Opening, a vortex spat energy and stripped particles. Scrambled subatomic matter fountained forth in every direction. In the midst of the particulate chaos something notably larger and intact emerged. Remarkably, it was a ship-in one piece and moving fast. The uniqueness of its shape rendered it instantly identifiable. Nero needed no technical confirmation. slightly off, and the now was only slightly postponed. The great ship trembled perceptibly as s.p.a.ce warped before it. The distance between them was substantial, but not in interstellar terms. Opening, a vortex spat energy and stripped particles. Scrambled subatomic matter fountained forth in every direction. In the midst of the particulate chaos something notably larger and intact emerged. Remarkably, it was a ship-in one piece and moving fast. The uniqueness of its shape rendered it instantly identifiable. Nero needed no technical confirmation.

"Our wait is over." He stared at the screen with a terrible longing. "Welcome back-Spock."

VI

no one knew why the a.s.sembly had been called. It was unusual but not unprecedented. Called from their cla.s.ses, hundreds of cadets streamed across the manicured lawns and free-poured walkways of the Academy campus. It was a beautiful day, the towers of downtown San Francisco gleaming in a blue sky that had been cleared of fog by a light offsh.o.r.e breeze.

A perfect day for a coronation, Kirk thought as he paced McCoy toward the a.s.sembly hall. Not that they would give him a crown. He would settle for an official commendation in his record. And maybe a plaque. A plaque would be nice, preferably one with an integrated holo projector so that visitors could admire the ceremony in three dimensions, complete with accompanying sound. He would settle for that, yes. Kirk thought as he paced McCoy toward the a.s.sembly hall. Not that they would give him a crown. He would settle for an official commendation in his record. And maybe a plaque. A plaque would be nice, preferably one with an integrated holo projector so that visitors could admire the ceremony in three dimensions, complete with accompanying sound. He would settle for that, yes.

"I made valedictorian," he surmised boastfully. "I bet that's what this is. Or they're going to give me special notice for being the first cadet to solve the Kobayashi Kobayashi scenario. Or they're going to announce a commendation on top of the valedictorian award." scenario. Or they're going to announce a commendation on top of the valedictorian award."

His friend regarded him with his usual jaundiced eye. "You know you might be constipated, on account of you being so full of yourself. If you elevate yourself any more you risk breaking gravity and drifting off the planet. I don't think even you can accomplish much in s.p.a.ce without a ship."

"You're wrong there, Bones. I don't need a ship." Kirk radiated confidence as they started up the steps leading to the a.s.sembly hall. "A simple s.p.a.cesuit'll do me."

A doubtful McCoy shook his head. "Where will they ever find one big enough to fit your head?"

"C'mon, Bones. Don't be jealous."

The older man gaped at him. "Jealous? I'm not jealous of you. I'm expectant. I look forward to being able to write the first scientific paper on a cadet who died from brain hemorrhaging due to a surplus of ego."

"Fine with me." Kirk winked at the doctor as they entered the building. "Just make sure I'm co-credited as the author."

McCoy sighed deeply. "Jim, you're incorrigible."

"No I'm not. I'm in the a.s.sembly hall. Let's find some room down front."

"Don't you want to sit in back so you can walk the entire length of the hall and bask for as long as possible in the glory you expect to receive?"

Kirk demurred as they entered the rapidly filling amphitheater. "Not a good idea. I might trip. Bad for thy image."

"Trip over what? Your own teeth? You might even try keeping your mouth closed for a change."

"Why?" Kirk asked innocently. "False modesty never did me any good before." When this time his friend failed to reply, Kirk added, "Bones, you always have permission to speak your mind, even in the face of my growing power."

"Thanks," McCoy replied wryly. "Just don't forget that the one person on a starship who can relieve an officer of duty is the ship's doctor. And that's not you, Mister Omnipotent Farm Boy. That's me." me."

Kirk conceded the point as they searched the lower tier of seats for a couple of empty places. "And don't you forget the one person who can relieve the ship's doctor doctor of duty." McCoy frowned in puzzlement. Kirk let him stew a moment before reminding him. "The ship's doctor's ex-wife." of duty." McCoy frowned in puzzlement. Kirk let him stew a moment before reminding him. "The ship's doctor's ex-wife."

His friend moaned.

Muted discussion filled the amphitheater as cadets continued to arrive from distant corners of the campus. Every available opening at the Academy was filled, Starfleet constantly being in need of competent trainees. Only when the exalted members of the Academy council began to arrive did conversation start to fade. When the senior officers and school advisers took their seats, so did every one of the cadets. At the same time and without the need for a command, all conversation ceased. Kirk was delighted to see that his mentor, Captain Pike, was among those seated at the long table facing the risers. One more good sign, he felt. The Academy commandant, Admiral Richard Barnett, spoke crisply into the silence.

"James T. Kirk. Step forward."

Kirk threw his friend McCoy a look that said "See?" as plainly as if he had voiced it. Confident, beaming, he marched down onto the floor and halted at attention. The commandant was gazing evenly at him. The big man was not smiling, but that meant nothing. Joyous as it promised to be, the a.s.sembly was still a formal occasion. The expressions on the faces of the other members of the council were unreadable, Pike's included.

The commandant began speaking. And the longer he spoke, the more Kirk felt his illusions as well as his conclusions collapsing in a confused heap around him.

"An incident has occurred," Admiral Barnett began, "that concerns the entire student body. Academic immorality by one is an a.s.sault on us all. all. It will not be allowed to stand. Cadet Kirk, evidence has been submitted to this council suggesting you violated Regulation Seventeen four-three pursuant to the Starfleet Code of Ethical Conduct. Is there anything you care to say before we begin?" It will not be allowed to stand. Cadet Kirk, evidence has been submitted to this council suggesting you violated Regulation Seventeen four-three pursuant to the Starfleet Code of Ethical Conduct. Is there anything you care to say before we begin?"

Rapid decisions. A good part of his training involved learning how to make rapid decisions while operating under difficult circ.u.mstances. Standing there alone with the eyes of everyone in the room lasered onto him, he could hardly imagine a more difficult set of circ.u.mstances. By now it had struck home that he had not been summoned to receive an award. The a.s.sembly, however, had indeed been called for him.

He was on trial.