Five
“Captain,” Uhura said. “I think I’ve managed to translate some of the signal.”
She did not sound happy about it. Kirk could tell from her tone that she had grim tidings to report. He braced for the worst.
“Tell me,” he said. “What does it say?”
“It’s a warning, sir, to stay away from the planet if we value our lives.”
The announcement darkened the mood across the bridge. None of the stationed crew gasped or said anything—they were all too well trained for that—but Kirk could feel the tension heighten all around him. Anxious glances were exchanged and the usual bustle of the bridge fell ominously silent. Saavik’s face tightened.
“A warning as in ‘no trespassing’?” he asked. “Like a border marking or territorial claim?”
“No, sir,” Uhura answered. “More like a hazard beacon, warning of danger. The details are sketchy, as the Translator is still attempting to pin down the precise meaning of some specific words and phrases, but there appear to be references to extremely hostile conditions and wildlife.” She paused to let that sink in, before elaborating. “As nearly as I can tell, the signal comes from a crashed alien spacecraft somewhere on the planet, belonging to an earlier crew of explorers who discovered the inherent dangers of the world too late. The beacon is intended to prevent others from making the same fatal mistake. ‘Do not suffer the same doom that has befallen us,’ ” she recited, “or words to that effect.”
“I get the idea.” Kirk’s expression darkened. His grip tightened on a coffee cup. “Somebody meant well, but we didn’t figure out their message soon enough.”
The bitter irony was not lost on him: The very signal intended to warn them away from Varba II had instead lured Spock and the others into danger. Kirk glanced at the ship’s chronometer, which was located on the conn, directly in front of the astrogator. The landing party had not been heard from for several hours, and their long silence had just become a lot more troubling. The true nature of the signal brought vague, shapeless fears into sharp relief, like a transporter stream coalescing into something real and tangible.
“Captain”—Saavik turned toward Kirk—“request permission to lead an immediate search-and-rescue mission to the planet’s surface.”
“Get in line, Lieutenant.” Kirk hit the comm button on his right armrest. “Mister Scott, report to the bridge. Hangar deck, prepare Copernicus for immediate departure.”
“Captain,” Uhura said, “what about the delegates?”
“To hell with the delegates.” Kirk was not about to stay anchored to his chair now that he had a solid reason to believe that the landing party was in trouble. He rose from his seat and headed for a turbolift. “I’m certain Mister Scott can hold down the fort until I get back.”
If I get back, he thought.
Saavik sprang from her seat. “Captain, I remind you that you may encounter the same unknown hazards that may have waylaid the first landing party. It would be more prudent—”
“I’m leading this mission, Lieutenant,” he said decisively, cutting off any further debate. He knew all the logical arguments by heart and he didn’t care. Nothing he might face on Varba II could be worse than waiting uselessly on the bridge when his crew was in jeopardy. “No arguments.”
“Understood, sir,” she said, demonstrating that she knew better than to press the issue. Apparently she had served under him long enough to tell when his mind was made up. “In that case, Captain, may I amend my request and simply ask to accompany you on this mission?”
Kirk looked her over, seeing again the genuine concern hidden behind her cool Vulcan demeanor. She had to be just as anxious to do something as he was . . . and she was a damned fine officer to boot.
“All right,” he said, nodding. “You’re with me, Lieutenant.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Turning the helm over to a qualified Saurian crew member who was standing by at the auxiliary systems monitor, she joined him at the starboard turbolift entrance. The door whisked open to admit them.
“Good luck, Captain,” Uhura called out. “Bring our people home.”
“Count on it,” Kirk said.