2292
“Destination dead ahead,” Chekov announced from the nav station. “We found her.”
The Enterprise, accompanied by the Lukara and the Harrier, had converged on the Oort cloud surrounding the supposedly lifeless star system. Working together, Uhura at the comms and Ensign Dupic at the science station had successfully tracked Saavik’s short-lived signal to its point of origin: an otherwise unexceptional chunk of ice only about thirty kilometers in diameter. A magnified image on the viewscreen betrayed no signs of habitation; if Kesh did have a base there, it was well camouflaged.
“Are we sure this is the right place?” Kirk asked.
“Affirmative, sir.” Dupic looked up from the specialized viewer at his station. The young Deltan spoke with confidence. “Sensors confirm that this particular object is heavily shielded. In addition, energy signatures indicate an advanced pergium generator powering a habitat beneath the frozen exterior of the object.”
“Then it’s true!” Gledii gasped in relief. “What your Saavik said, about Cyloo and the others being beamed to safety. You must recover her, Captain. She’s barely more than a child!”
“That’s what were here for, Envoy.” Kirk inspected the deceptively innocuous planetesimal before them. “How heavily shielded?” he asked Dupic. “Can our phasers overcome their deflectors?”
“Probably, sir, especially if the Klingons and Romulans add their firepower to ours, but with that much force, we can’t guarantee the safety of the hostages. We could accidentally knock out their life-support, expose them to the vacuum, or trigger some other disasters: cave-ins, coolant leaks, plasma fires, you name it. Worst-case scenario: We inflict irreparable damage on that generator, causing it to go hypercritical. There’s no way to calibrate just how hard to hit them without breaking the habitat.”
“Understood,” Kirk said. “And that’s assuming our Klingon or Romulan cohorts even try to apply a scalpel instead of a sledgehammer.”
“Fat chance of that,” McCoy said. “Especially that Klingon terror.”
“Hopefully, it won’t come to that, Bones.” Kirk hoped to avoid a full-scale military assault if necessary. “Uhura, hail that base.”
Knock first, Kirk thought, before smashing down the door.
“They’re responding, Captain, and they don’t sound happy to see us.”
“On-screen, Lieutenant, and let our allies listen in.”
“Aye, sir.”
A middle-aged Klingon appeared on the viewscreen. He looked vaguely familiar, but Kirk couldn’t place him. His disposition was definitely hostile, however. He glared balefully from the screen.
“Here we are again, Kirk,” he rumbled. “With you showing up uninvited at my doorstep once more.”
The man’s cavernously deep voice rang a bell as well, sounding from somewhere deep in Kirk’s past. “Doctor Kesh, I presume?”
“You don’t remember me, Kirk? I certainly recall you, always self-righteously barging in where you don’t belong.”
The face, the voice, the aggrieved tone, a stolen escape pod and faked spacejacking. Kirk’s memory finally coughed up the connection.
“Siroth?”
“Ah, so you do remember me, after so many years. Thanks to you, my tower was destroyed, years of work and planning and progress wiped out in a single night. Don’t think I’m going to let you do it again, Kirk. Not this time.”
“Siroth?” McCoy echoed. “That so-called alchemist on Atraz way back when.” He squinted at the screen. “Well, I’ll be damned, it is him. Always wondered where he scurried off to.”
“Saavik tried to tell us,” Kirk said. “She said Kesh wasn’t really Klingon.”
“Captain?” Gledii asked in confusion. “Who is this man? How do you know him?”
Kirk muted the audio transmission before replying. “An old adversary, Envoy. A human scientist who we caught conducting illegal experiments on another planet decades ago. He was obsessed with finding the secret of eternal life.”
Small wonder he had gone to such extreme lengths to capture an Osori.
“Of course,” Gledii said bitterly. “The same old story, even after so many ages. The jealousy of you short-lived beings never abates.”
“We’ll do our best to get Cyloo back. I give you my word.” Kirk unmuted the audio. “Listen up, Siroth or Kesh or whatever your name really is. We’re here for our stolen people. Turn them over at once.”
“Not a chance, Kirk. I won’t let you ruin everything again. My work is too important for that.”
“You should have thought of that before you kidnapped three people and tried faking their deaths. Lower your shields, surrender your captives, and maybe, just maybe, I can see to it you face Federation justice, as opposed to the tender mercies of the Romulans or Klingons.”
B’Eleste and Plavius would doubtless have strong opinions on that, Kirk knew, but if he could get the hostages back safe and sound, it would be worth any wrangling down the road. Saving Saavik, Cyloo, and Taleb was Job One right now.
“Spare me the dire admonitions, Kirk. I hold all the cards here. The Osori’s precious, all-but-endless life is in my hands, not to mention Lieutenant Saavik and Subcommander Taleb. You can’t attack this base without endangering them, so I’d advise you and your allies to retreat before I’m forced to take more drastic measures. Believe me, Kirk, I’ll let you destroy us all before I’ll surrender the Osori.”
Was he bluffing? Kirk racked his brain, calling up his impressions of the man from nearly a quarter of a century ago.
“I don’t buy it, Siroth. You never struck me as suicidal, quite the opposite in fact. You want to live forever, not throw your life away by going out in a blaze of glory.”
“Don’t underestimate my determination, Kirk. I’m gambling for the highest stakes of all, and counting on the fact that you’d rather leave the hostages in my custody for the indefinite future than see them dead for real.”
“Not if it means letting the Osori’s advanced technology, not to mention their unique biological essence, fall into the hands of a murderous renegade. I don’t want to sacrifice the hostages, you’re right about that, but this has become a matter of galactic security for all three powers involved. If we have to, we will obliterate your base to protect the Osori’s dangerous, destabilizing secrets.” Kirk gave Gledii a pointed look, hoping the elder Osori would get the message. “Isn’t that right, Envoy?”
Gledii assumed a grim, forbidding mien as he stepped forward into view of the screen.
“Tragically so, Captain. While my ageless heart aches for Cyloo’s plight, we cannot tolerate any abductions of this nature lest we encourage yet more assaults on our people. History teaches us that there will be no end to such atrocities if we permit even one of our people to be probed and persecuted with impunity. Cyloo understands that as well as any Osori.”
Kirk found his oration convincing, maybe a little too much so. Was Gledii just playing along or was he utterly sincere?
“Nonsense. You’re bluffing, both of you.”
“Maybe,” Kirk said. “But what about the other interested parties?”
He signaled Uhura to allow the Klingons and Romulans into the discussion. B’Eleste and Plavius instantly shared the screen with the rogue scientist.
“Kesh! You treacherous, false-faced slime devil!” B’Eleste raged impressively. “You will rue the day you violated my trust… and undeservedly claimed the supreme honor of being Klingon!”
Plavius was less vitriolic, but no less implacable. “The Romulan Star Empire does not negotiate with brigands and terrorists. If any harm comes to Subcommander Taleb, or either of the other hostages, you shall pay dearly for it. Release your prisoners if you hope to survive another day.”
Kirk hoped they were also bluffing but had his doubts.
“Save your saber-rattling bluster,” Kesh responded. “Fire on this base and first Taleb dies, then Saavik. Choose your next actions wisely.”
His face vanished from the screen.
“Guess he didn’t blink,” McCoy said. “So now what?”
Wilder turned away from the darkened monitor. Wight looked anxiously at him as she employed her reclaimed phaser pistol to keep the hostages under control. Melinda thought the towering alien woman appeared rather less confident about their odds than her boss.
“What are we going to do, Doctor?”
“You are going to follow orders, which is what you’re good at,” Wilder said sharply. “The ball is in Kirk’s court now. Let’s hope he can talk sense into B’Eleste and Plavius, convince them they need to back off for the time being. Who knows? If we’re lucky, they’ll end up fighting among themselves.”
“I would not rely on that,” Saavik said. “Captain Kirk always finds a way to prevail.”
“Not this time! Not again!”
He’s losing it, Melinda thought, but is that a good thing or a bad thing?
Taleb stirred upon the floor. Moaning, he reached groggily for the laser scalpel he’d had when he was stunned, only to discover that it had since been confiscated by their foes. Sitting up, he massaged his temple and looked about in bewilderment.
“What did I miss?”
“Much,” Saavik informed him as she and Melinda helped him to his feet. “Help has arrived, but Kesh remains defiant. Our prospects are… uncertain.”
“They’ll hold their fire,” Wilder insisted. “For Cyloo’s sake if nothing else. Her potential life-span is far more valuable than your fleeting existence, Lieutenant.”
“No,” the Osori said. “Gledii is right. I can’t allow you to get away with abducting me, let alone benefit from that transgression. You will never touch me, even if it means I phase out of existence entirely.” She looked apologetically at Saavik, Taleb, and Melinda. “Even if it means we must all perish… together.”
“Noble words,” Wilder mocked, “but let’s see how long your resolve lasts once your friends start dying before your triple eyes, just because you chose to defy me.” Hefting the rifle, he targeted Taleb once more. “Get out of the way, Melinda. This isn’t your fight.”
“The heck it isn’t.”
She stepped forward into the line of fire. Her last attempt to get through to him had run into the brick wall of his obsession, but she couldn’t stand by while Wilder gunned down somebody in cold blood. She and Wilder came from the same bygone era; if anybody could reach him, maybe she could.
“Are you trying to get us all killed, Orlando? I’ve only been up and about in this century for a few hours, but even I can tell that the jig is up. We’ve got three freaking spaceships closing in on us, ready to let loose with their biggest guns. You heard what that Romulan dude with the monocle said: You kill Taleb, and there may be no way to keep them from going full War of the Worlds on us, death rays and all. We need to put out this fire while we still can, before we all go up in flames.”
“They’ve forced my hand. I need to make an example of Taleb to demonstrate that my threats are not idle ones.”
“You’re going to kill someone just to prove a point? Yikers, Orlando, just how badly have you gone off the rails since the days of Miracle Milly? Seems like it was just yesterday, from my perspective, since you were telling me that ‘death was abhorrent’ to you. What happened to that guy? Was that just bullshit all along, or has your ‘quest’ well and truly turned you into a monster?”
“It’s the only way left to me. The only way to reach my ultimate goal. But you needn’t worry, Melinda. You’re not a hostage. You’re in no danger.”
“Really? So what is in store for me, Orlando? Even if by some miracle Kirk and the others don’t blast this place to smithereens, even if you do somehow get them to turn around and leave you alone, what happens to me then? Back into the ice for another three hundred years? Five hundred years? Forever?”
“Not forever! Only until I crack the riddle at last. I promise you, Melinda, it will all be worthwhile in the end. When I make you immortal.”
“The heck with immortality! Don’t you get it? I don’t want to live forever; I just want a life back, even in this strange new future. You took my old life from me, Orlando. Let me have this second chance, please.”
She took a cautious step toward him, despite the futuristic rifle aimed at her, then another.
“Stay back,” he warned her.
“No way.”
Her heart was pounding like a SWAT team at the door as she faced down the barrel of the phaser rifle. How well did she truly know Orlando Wilder, or what he was capable of these days? It could be her new twenty-third-century life was about to come to a very abrupt end. Dennis always did say I took too many chances…
“Let us live, Orlando. You owe me that.”
Half expecting to be disintegrated at any instant, she reached out and took hold of the business end of the rifle (the emitter?) and gently eased it to one side, away from her. Kesh’s remodeled face fell. His shoulders sagged in defeat.
“I just wanted more life,” he said. “For everyone.”
“Then don’t let there be any more senseless deaths.”
She took the gun from him.
Wight offered no resistance. If anything, Saavik judged, the Rhaandarite appeared relieved that an imminent conflagration had been averted. She surrendered her phaser to Saavik without protest.
“Your wrist communicator as well, please.”
Cyloo phased back into reality, the protective radiance retreating back into her gloves, then sat down on a stool by a counter. Saavik could not be sure, but the Osori gave the impression of being somewhat depleted. Had she indeed been nearing the time limit on how long she could safely remain immaterial, or was her enervated appearance simply a result of the emotional duress she had been under? Saavik found this difficult to determine with certainty.
Taking over Wight’s control panel, she swiftly and efficiently lowered Hiberna’s defensive shields and reestablished contact with the Enterprise.
“The crisis is concluded, Captain, with no further casualties.” She glanced over at Melinda, who was keeping watch over Kesh. “Thanks to the efforts of an additional captive unknown to you. An Earthwoman, in fact.”
“Really?” Kirk said. “I look forward to hearing your full report, Lieutenant. Stand by for rescue parties.”
“Acknowledged.”
Cyloo lifted her head, which had drooped toward her chest. Her central eye met Saavik’s two. “Don’t forget your promise.”
“I have not.”
Only minutes later, three separate security teams—Starfleet, Klingon, and Romulan—beamed into the lab, the varied pitches of their respective transporter beams clashing somewhat discordantly. The landing parties regarded each other warily, but no more than that. The Starfleet contingent was led by Chekov, who beamed happily at the sight of Saavik.
“Lieutenant! Talk about a sight for sore eyes.”
Given that her own eyes were still enduring the lingering effects of Kesh’s lachrymatory gas, she found this a singularly inapt expression.
“Excuse me, Commander, may I borrow your phaser?”
“My phaser?” He handed it over to her. “Certainly, but why?”
“One last task to attend to.”
She placed the confiscated wrist communicator atop the console Cyloo’s gloves had interfaced with, set the phaser on disintegrate, and opened fire. Startled cries and gasps erupted around the laboratory as the communicator, along with much of the control panel, flared up brightly before dissolving into nothingness. Agitated Romulans and Klingons drew their weapons on her—until Taleb intervened.
“Stand down, Centurions.” He nodded at Saavik. “The Vulcan has her reasons.”
The helmeted soldiers muttered but lowered their weapons. The Klingons grumbled more loudly but followed suit, so the Starfleet team was not required to come to her defense.
“Thank you, Subcommander.” She calmly returned the weapon to Chekov. “Your phaser, sir.”
He gaped at her, not quite dumbfounded. “Er, what exactly was that about, Lieutenant?”
“Fulfilling a promise, sir.”