Still angry and dismayed over the mutinous behavior of his two officers and the on-going mystery of the ship’s malfunctioning computer, Jim Kirk came out of the turbo lift, pushing at the edge of the door with his left hand in an impatient gesture. 

He approached Uhura’s station. “Have you raised the Excelsior, Commander?” 

“No sir,” Uhura said apologetically, “I’m afraid I haven’t.” 

That wasn’t the answer he had expected. “What?” 

“I’ve tried, but there’s no response.” She shook her head, aggravated. “I don’t understand it.” 

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“Identity scan indicates two passengers,” the computer voice announced. “Identity: Starfleet—active.” 

Okay, thought Hikaru Sulu, bemused by the mystery of the entire situation. It wasn’t often that an unannounced, unidentified shuttle approached a Federation starship, offering no communication except a request for docking. 

As it was a Starfleet, vessel, Hikaru had little choice but to grant clearance. 

He had sent for a security force, which stood behind him now, ready in case this was a commandeered shuttle preparing an attack against the Fleet’s newest, proudest vessel. Hikaru, however, found this possibility ludicrous, to say the least. He wasn’t concerned so much as unbearably curious. 

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Accepting Saavik’s voice print, the computer-activated door slid open into the access corridor which led to Regula’s main reception area. The last time she had been here, the station had been cold and dark and strewn with bodies of the victims of Khan Singh’s mad attempt to appropriate the Genesis project. 

Now it had been restored after two months of labor on the parts of the remaining Genesis team and a Starfleet work crew. Saavik wondered how much of the actual work Carol Marcus and her colleagues had found themselves able to actually participate in. This laboratory complex was a vessel for horrible memories for those who had survived the Reliant affair as well as those of the Genesis personnel who had returned from leave only to discover that the project had come to an end after years of dedicated labor with the deaths of their friends. 

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In the Guardian’s central area, the images Saavik and McCoy had observed faded now, obscured by swirling mists. She and the Doctor stood, numbed by what they had seen. He probably did not fully understand as she did what it all meant. He had not had the dream. For the moment, he was spared the pain of knowing how things must be. Knowledge was not always a blessing. 

The voice boomed, “Saavik.” 

“Yes,” she responded coolly. 

“Now you have seen what must be. Are you willing to do what must be done? I cannot force you, but I believe you know some of the consequences should you refuse.” 

I cannot force you. True enough, she supposed, but certainly it had seen to it that she would not refuse. What kind of creature would? A low, unprincipled one might, one that placed the lives of a select few above the lives of a universe. Saavik might have—long ago.  Continue reading →

CHAPTER FOUR

The central living area Sarek escorted Terry to was not what he would have expected of Vulcan living. Onboard ship, Vulcans tended to be rather spartan in their decor. This room, in fact. the whole house, showed a human touch—specifically a feminine one. Obviously, Amanda had had a hand in the decorating. 

Once inside the central room, however, Terry didn’t find himself noticing walls or floors or other things inanimate. Around him were anxious faces, most of them with a touch of sympathy in their expression. Captain Scott, Dr. McCoy and Commander Uhura sat casually on the large couch in front of him. In nearby chairs, facing one another, were his commander, Hikaru Sulu, and a man he assumed to be Pavel Chekov. 

Sulu smiled at him in greeting, as did Uhura and McCoy. Could they see how nervous he was? Were they offering him a vote of confidence? Perhaps they wanted to remind him that they were old friends and teachers as well as criminals he’d been sent to arrest. He remembered. 

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USS Phoenix Log, Stardate: 8223.4 

Lieutenant Aer’La commanding in the absence of First Officer Hadley. 

Phoenix has been called out of maintenance in spacedock and ordered to follow the path of the USS Enterprise, stolen by a band of Starfleet renegades led by Admiral James Kirk and including former Phoenix commander Sulu, to the Genesis planet in the Mutara sector. 

It was truly the most bizarre order she had ever been given: pull the ship out of dock in the middle of maintenance work and reassemble what crew she could to track down and arrest six of the most celebrated officers in the fleet—the former command crew of the Enterprise. Two thirds of the crew had been available, and, despite their grumbling, the repair crews had had the ship ready to go in six hours. 

Aer’La had looked at Admiral Morrow as though he were mad when he had called her, a simple lieutenant just off of border patrol, into his office and put her in charge of the most delicate mission the fleet could ever dream of undertaking—the arrest of a band of heroes for mutiny. No diplomatic undertaking could ever be so sensitive as this. Starfleet would not be popular when it hauled Jim Kirk in for court martial. Why her? And why Phoenix? 

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