The Fire and the Rose Page 2

  Spock reached across his panel and keyed open an intercom circuit. “Bridge to hangar deck,” he said.

  “Hangar deck,” responded the member of the crew presently stationed there. “Fields here.”

  “Spock here, Mister Fields,” he said. “Prepare the shuttlecraft Darwin for launch. Contact the armory and have them outfit the cabin with phaser rifles for a crew of six.”

  “Yes, sir,” Fields said.

  “Bridge out,” Spock said, then toggled the channel closed. He did not at this moment intend to lead a rescue party down to the planet, as that would contravene Captain Kirk’s orders. Still, with no means of determining the current status of Mitchell or the captain, Spock realized that he might have to act at a moment’s notice. It would better serve to be as prepared as possible for such an alternative.

  After the Enterprise’s damaging voyage through the energy barrier at the rim of the galaxy, Spock had counseled Captain Kirk to take the ship to Delta Vega, for the dual purposes of recovering the main drive systems and stranding Mitchell on the unpopulated world. When the captain had initially refused to take such an action with respect to the helmsman, Spock had asserted that the only reasonable alternative would be to kill Mitchell. The captain had reacted sharply to that, even imploring Spock to feel for their shipmate, or at least to behave as though he did. Ultimately, though, Kirk had relented, choosing to intern his friend of a decade and a half at the ore facility while the crew repaired the Enterprise, then to maroon him there when the ship departed. According to Dr. Piper, when he’d begun his unaccompanied hunt for Mitchell, the captain had taken himself to task for allowing him to escape.

  Since then, Spock and the crew had worked to find a means of counteracting the plasma cloud and the interference it caused. Among other efforts, they’d searched for points of minimum density, adjusted the modulation of both communications and sensor carrier waves, boosted the gain of each, and attempted to reflect off both water vapor in the air and rock formations on the ground, all without result. Spock had contemplated slicing through the ionized gas with the ship’s phasers, but hadn’t wanted to risk incinerating everything below it—including the captain and Dr. Dehner.

  Dexterously operating the controls at his sciences station, Spock performed another scan of the plasma sheet, seeking out weaknesses in it. As he did so, he thought about the advice he had given to Captain Kirk—namely that he should execute his own closest friend. Spock remained convinced that the danger Mitchell posed could be neutralized only via his death, and yet he now found himself conflicted for having advocated such a view. He held respect for life as an axiomatic core of his personal philosophy—and of morality in general—and he knew that the captain did as well. But where Spock experienced no emotions, Captain Kirk did. For Spock, the decision that Mitchell’s life should be ended, like any decision, had been derived by substituting the facts of the situation into a virtual equation measuring the common good. He had not had to factor out—or simply proceed in the face of—feelings of sorrow and regret, as the captain no doubt had.

  Is there another way? Spock asked himself. He’d originally thought that abandoning the ship’s second officer on Delta Vega and then quarantining the system would provide a solution, but as the breadth and depth of Mitchell’s superhuman powers had grown, that had become less likely. Now, with the mutated officer’s demonstrated abilities-

  On the display before him, the readings of the atmosphere above the valley changed abruptly. Numbers indicating massive temperatures, altered pressures, disrupted wind flows, all fell in an instant back to within their normally expected ranges. Spock stood up and leaned down to peer into his sensor monitor. The sheath of plasma had vanished.

  “Mister Spock,” said Lieutenant Alden. “We’re receiving an incoming transmission from Captain Kirk.”

  Spock straightened and turned toward the communications console. “On speaker,” he ordered. Alden worked his panel and a second later the captain’s voice sounded on the bridge.

  “Enterprise,” he said, and then he breathed slowly and heavily, as though from exhaustion. “From Captain Kirk. Come in.”

  Spock pressed a button on his console to tie in to the captain’s channel. “Spock here,” he said. “Are you all right, Captain?”

  “Affirmative,” Kirk said, still breathing in gulps of air. “Gary and Doctor Dehner… are dead.” In the hesitation, Spock heard not only the captain’s fatigue, but his emotional turmoil. “Beam me back home.”

  Now Spock hesitated. While he believed Captain Kirk, armed with a phaser rifle, could have killed Mitchell, and while that death might explain the disappearance of the plasma field, Spock had to be sure. “Captain,” he said, “I would like your permission to perform sensor scans of the surface before transporting you up to the ship.” He did not need to detail the obvious, namely that Mitchell’s new-found abilities might well be allowing him to impersonate Captain Kirk. Before Spock permitted anybody to return to the Enterprise, he wanted to ensure that he would not be providing a masquerading Mitchell a means of fleeing Delta Vega—and worse, a means of reaching inhabited worlds.

  “Understood,” the captain said. “I’ll remain in my current location.”

  “Acknowledged,” Spock said.

  “Kirk out,” the captain said.

  Spock addressed the communications officer once more. “Mister Alden,” he said, “feed the coordinates of the transmission’s source to the sciences console.”

  “Aye, sir,” Alden said, and he began operating his controls.

  Spock closed the channel on which he’d just spoken, then opened an intercom circuit. “Bridge to sickbay,” he said.

  “Sickbay, Piper here,” came the reply.

  “Doctor, report to the bridge at once,” Spock said.

  “I’m on my way,” Piper said.

  Spock signed off and closed the channel, then bent in toward his sensor monitor again. He would scan the planet’s surface for Captain Kirk, as well as for the dead bodies of Mitchell and Dehner. When Piper arrived, the doctor would be able to examine the captain’s readings and determine their veracity. Even with Mitchell’s powers, Spock didn’t think he would be able to perfectly mimic Captain Kirk’s cellular pattern.

  Relieved but still cautious, Spock worked the sensor controls and began his own analysis.

  Standing beside the sciences station, Spock observed Crewman Tamboline run through the diagnostic routine. Currently a second-class petty officer in the ship’s services group, Tamboline had recently requested transfer into the sciences division. Captain Kirk had approved the application and Spock had taken on the task of training the young man.

  In the command chair, the captain ordered the Enterprise away from Delta Vega and onward to Starbase 20. Spock looked toward the center of the bridge and saw Chief Engineer Scott, currently substituting for the vanquished Lieutenant Commander Mitchell, work the helm controls to send the ship onto its new course. As the impulse engines delivered a familiar thrum through the decking, the image of the planet disappeared at the bottom of the main viewscreen, leaving an open starfield ahead.

  Other than the monotonous beating of the sublight drive and the occasional clicks and beeps of other equipment, the bridge remained relatively quiet, doubtless a reflection of the crew’s somber mood. The captain had returned to the ship a day earlier, effectively bearing with him the news of the deaths of Lee Kelso, Gary Mitchell, and Elizabeth Dehner. Coming on the heels of the nine officers who had perished last week at the galactic rim, these latest losses had deeply affected many of the already traumatized crew. When Spock had taken his midday meal in the mess hall earlier today, he’d noted a decided moroseness among those present. Although last week’s deaths had clearly impacted the crew at the time, the breakdown of the Enterprise’s main drive and the fantastic changes to Mitchell had provided unavoidable distractions. Now, though, with an extended period of inactivity as the ship headed to Starbase 20 for additional repairs, the crew had lit
tle to divert them from their grief.

  Spock watched as the captain reached up with his bandaged right hand, a white cast running from the bases of his fingertips down past his wrist. Kirk switched on the microphone perched at the end of a semirigid metal cord that ran up from the side of the command chair. “Captain’s log, star-date thirteen-thirteen-point-eight,” he said. “Add to official losses Doctor Elizabeth Dehner. Be it noted she gave her life in performance of her duty.” His voice sounded steady, matching the even demeanor he’d displayed since transporting up from Delta Vega. During the days of Mitchell’s metamorphosis, Spock had noted signs of strain in the captain, but since being forced by circumstance to kill his closest friend by his own hand, Kirk actually appeared more settled. The control of emotion, whether internal or merely external, impressed Spock.

  After glancing at the sciences station to verify Tamboline’s ongoing diagnostic, Spock moved down from the raised periphery of the bridge and down to the lower, central section. He passed in front of Yeoman Smith, who stood behind and to the right of where the captain sat. As Spock reached the side of the command chair, Kirk completed his log entry. “Lieutenant Commander Gary Mitchell, same notation,” he said, then switched off the recorder. “I want his service record to end that way,” Captain Kirk told Spock, obviously speaking of Mitchell. “He didn’t ask for what happened to him.”

  A pang of guilt darted through Spock’s mind. The feeling itself disquieted him. After all his years learning and practicing Vulcan meditation and control techniques, he still had not fully mastered the restraint of his emotions. At the same time, he found an immediate use for his unwanted remorse. “I felt for him too,” he admitted, recognizing the truth of the captain’s assertion, namely that Mitchell had done nothing to warrant his fate. Spock also wanted to demonstrate his support for Kirk in what surely must be a difficult time for him.

  “I believe there’s some hope for you after all, Mister Spock,” the captain said.

  Spock glanced at him and allowed the corners of his mouth to curl up slightly. He felt no humor, nor did he find the content of Kirk’s statement complimentary, but he did appreciate what he perceived as the captain’s intent. Kirk had several times responded heatedly to Spock’s suggestions on how to deal with Mitchell, and his words in this context seemed clearly meant to acknowledge the appropriateness and value of those suggestions.

  As Spock regarded the main viewscreen, the captain said, “Take us to warp three when we’ve cleared the system, Mister Scott.”

  “Aye, sir,” the engineer said from the helm.

  Spock turned and headed back toward the sciences station, where he resumed his tutelage of Crewman Tamboline. A short time later, the throb of the impulse engines gave way to that of the warp drive as the Enterprise sped toward Starbase 20. The bridge personnel remained silent.

  Spock exited the turbolift and walked through the unusually quiet Enterprise corridor. With the ship in dry dock, undergoing further repairs to the warp engines, the sounds and vibrations normally generated by the drive systems had now fallen silent and still. As well, many of the crew had taken advantage of the downtime to embark on shore leave on Vellurius, the planet about which Starbase 20 orbited. On his way here from main engineering, Spock had encountered only a single crewmember, Dr. Noel, who, judging from her civilian attire and the duffel slung over her shoulder, had appeared headed off the ship herself.

  Spock arrived at his destination, cabin 3F 121. He pressed the button beside the door and heard the buzzer beyond the light blue panel, signaling his presence. “Come,” he heard Captain Kirk say. Spock stepped forward and the door slid open before him.

  “You wanted to see me, sir,” he said as the door whispered closed.

  “Yes, Mister Spock,” Kirk said from where he sat at his desk. A data slate lay before him and he clutched a stylus in his hand. “I’ve just received a communication from Admiral Hahn.” Mattea Hahn, Spock knew, currently served as chief of Starfleet Operations, the branch responsible for monitoring and supervising, distributing and coordinating, all ship and starbase activities and movements. “Because of the damage to the Enterprise’s warp drive and the extensive repairs still needed, she’s decided that now is the appropriate time for the ship to put in for refit.” During the course of the last few months, two other starships—the Constellation and the Defiant—had already undergone this latest overhaul of the Constitution-class vessels, which included improvements to the bridge module, science labs, and propulsion systems. “We’re to travel to the Antares Fleet Yards, where the work is scheduled to take twenty-four days.”

  “I presume, then, that we are to spend less time here at Starbase Twenty than initially expected,” Spock said.

  “Yes,” the captain said. “Just enough time for Mister Scott and his engineers to get the ship spaceworthy enough to make the long journey to Antares safely.”

  “I will consult with Mister Scott on how long those repairs will take,” Spock said, anticipating the needs mandated by the change in plans. “I will ensure that the crew are made aware of the revised itinerary.”

  “Thank you, Mister Spock,” Kirk said. “And let everybody know that they’ll be able to take additional shore leave at some point during the refit.”

  “Yes, sir,” Spock said. “Is there anything else?”

  Kirk glanced down at the data slate in front of him, then back up at Spock. “Actually, there is,” he said. Spock waited for the captain to continue. After a few seconds, Kirk looked back down at the slate. “I’ve been trying to write a letter to Gary’s parents,” he said. “They live on Earth, so I’m not sure when I’ll get to see them next. Starfleet will send somebody to inform them in person about what happened, but…” He let his words trail off into silence.

  “I understand,” Spock offered.

  Kirk looked up again. “Do you?” he asked. The question did not seem rhetorical, but Kirk went on without allowing an opportunity for a response. “Have a seat, Mister Spock,” he said, gesturing toward the chair on the other side of the desk.

  Spock crossed the cabin and sat down opposite the captain. “Sir?” he said.

  “You know that Gary and I were friends for fifteen years,” Kirk said. “We met at the academy, then served together aboard the Republic and the Constitution. I requested that he be assigned to the Enterprise as my second officer.” He paused, his manner wistful. Spock waited, conscious of the toll that recent events must have taken—must still be taking—on the captain. “You’re aware of all that, aren’t you?” Kirk asked.

  “I am,” Spock said.

  Kirk regarded him for a long moment, then peered down at the stylus in his hand. He fiddled with the pointed writing instrument, turning it end over end, before finally setting it down atop the data slate. When he looked up again, he said, “As Gary began to change, most of my officers advised caution. Doctor Dehner even believed that his mutations, his powers, might be a good thing, might possibly lead to a better, advanced sort of human. But you, Mister Spock, you suggested something well beyond caution. You told me that I should either maroon my best friend on an uninhabited planet, or kill him.”

  Spock didn’t know how to characterize the statement. The captain had delivered his assertion in a matter-of-fact fashion, but his words seemed as though they might have carried with them the hint of an accusation. A week removed from slaying Mitchell, did Kirk now suffer regret for what he’d done, and did he blame Spock for that? “After evaluating the circumstances, I provided you with the best counsel I could,” Spock said evenly. “That is a requirement of my position as the ship’s first officer.”

  “Yes, it is,” Kirk agreed. He stood up and paced out from behind his desk. When he reached the corner of the cabin, he turned and addressed Spock. “Did you know that Captain Pike personally recommended you to be my exec?”

  “I did not know that specifically,” Spock said, “but I do not find the information surprising.” He had served under Christopher Pike for mor
e than a decade, during a series of exploratory missions aboard the Enterprise. By the time that Pike had been promoted to fleet captain and left the ship, Spock had risen to the dual stations of chief science officer and third in command.

  “He spoke very highly of you,” Kirk said. “He described you as extremely intelligent, capable, trustworthy, dedicated.” Spock bowed his head in acknowledgment of Captain Pike’s positive assessment. For his part, Spock held Pike in high esteem. “He also told me that you used to smile, widely and often.”

  Spock felt an eyebrow arch upward at the unexpected comment. A dozen years after the fact, he hadn’t anticipated that this issue would arise. “Yes,” he acknowledged. “When I was first assigned to the Enterprise, I did sometimes smile.”

  “But you don’t really do that in the same way now,” Kirk said.

  “No,” Spock said. The topic discomfited him, the subject matter of a relatively personal character.

  “Why?” Kirk asked.

  “Captain, I intend no disrespect,” Spock said, “but may I ask the purpose of your inquiry?”

  Kirk walked back across the room and stood beside the desk. “I have my reasons,” he said, though not in a challenging way. “You and I have served together now for more than a year, and on many occasions, I’ve heard you proclaim your Vulcan nature. More than that, you’ve explicitly denied your human half. But smiling in the manner that Captain Pike described implies feeling behind it, and that would seem to fly in the face of such assertions.”

  “People certainly could have inferred emotion as the cause of my smiling,” Spock said, “and I know that some did. It was primarily for that reason that I stopped.”

  “But why did you start?” Kirk asked.

  Spock took a breath. “When I attended Starfleet Academy, almost all of my time outside of coursework I spent at the Vulcan compound in Sausalito. When I was posted to the Enterprise, I was the only Vulcan among the crew, and one of only seven nonhumans aboard. In my initial attempt to integrate with my shipmates, I chose to emulate some aspects of human behavior, including smiling.”