Black Fire (11 page)

"Ye sure had me worried, Mister Spock. I'm glad ta see ye more like yeself. Are ye in pain?" Spook was lying completely flat, just as he had been placed.

"No, Scott. There is no more pain. I have no sensation from the area of the wound down. Help me to sit. This crystal
is fascinating
."

1

"Captain Kirk to Transporter Room. One to beam up."

James T. Kirk said the familiar words with deep satisfaction. Finally, after the prolonged forced rest, he was returning to his true home. It was a day earlier than his orders indicated—a day to reacquaint himself with the repaired and rebuilt
Enterprise
, a day to get the feel of the ship and to relish being back before his duties absorbed his attention.

"
I'm
sorry, sir. My orders are to beam up all personnel only when their orders indicate. You're a day early," came the reply from the ship.

"This is the captain. The commanding officer. One to beam up." repeated.

"Transporter Room, this is an order! I will take full responsibility. Beam me up immediately!" His pleasant feeling gave way to exasperation.

"Yes, sir, if you insist." The transporter was engaged.

Kirk was fuming when he stepped out of the transporter. "Lieutenant, when I give an order, you obey it. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir. But I …"

"No buts, Lieutenant. You are relieved. Report to your superior—and brush upon protocol… ."

Now, why was I so hard on him?
Kirk asked himself as he strode from the room.
He was only following previous orders. Why did I jump so hard on him? Something's wrong. I can feel it. But that's irrational
, he assured himself,
first-day-back jitters
.

In his quarters he checked the safe, tucking his new orders into their proper spot. He hadn't received his new uniforms yet. The accident, the long recovery process, and the forced rest had given him time to exercise and get back into top shape and he had lost weight. His old uniforms hung on him so he had ordered new ones, which would arrive tomorrow No crew was on board yet so he decided his regulation uniform wasn't necessary. He put on a T-shirt and pants, eased into a well-worn pair of boots which felt like old friends, and hustled out of his quarters.

He stepped into the turbolift. "Bridge." The familiar word sounded good.

The bridge was empty. The temporary skeleton crew was controlling the ship from the auxiliary bridge. He was glad to be alone in the nerve center of the ship—he knew it would be impossible after today. But this was
his
day, a day to enjoy
his
ship. He toured the upper level of the bridge, running his hand over the newly replaced instruments. Peering into the sensor, he flipped a lever and watched the instrument register the life forms on the station below. The engineering console screen was showing an energy-flow diagram. He stepped down into the lower section and checked the navigation station. He swiveled the chair in the helmsman's position and watched it spin with ease.

Smiling, he sat down in the familiar command position. The chair cushion gave way to his weight. It was more fully padded, feeling subtly different. A twinge of anxiety went through him. It
felt
different, this
Enterprise
. He had studied the design modifications: All of the plans and specifications were firmly embedded in his mind. They were planning even more drastic changes in the future. It made him feel vaguely uncomfortable.

He stretched his feet in front of him, trying to relax. Automatically reaching for the switch to record his log, his finger missed the button: different. He readjusted, and flipped the switch.

"Captain's log, Stardate 6205.7, James T. Kirk, Captain. I have returned to my ship."

But it was different!

He threw the switch to engage the darkened view-screen. A view of Starbase 12 flashed on. Kirk swiveled his chair and glanced at the communications and science stations. The instrument panels were now gray. He rose from his chair, heading for the turbolift, but stopped short at the doors; they were no longer red—gray had replaced the familiar color. He felt somewhat unnerved.

Back in his quarters again, he stripped off the T-shirt and lay back on the bed. He switched on the library console, selected the specifications for the bridge, and studied the changes, trying to reconcile himself to the differences. He never thought of himself as rigid. In fact, it was necessary for a starship captain to be open to new situations and flexible in his approach to rapid, unexpected change. Kirk was annoyed with himself.
Why am I so ill at ease? A new paint job shouldn't make me jittery. Something's wrong—I can feel it
. He stripped, programmed the computer to awaken him early, began reading, and fell into a restless sleep.

"O-six-hundred, Captain James T. Kirk, wake-up call," the computer's voice droned over and over again.

"I hear you!" Kirk grumbled at the machine. Then he paused, frowning. "Computer, what time is it?"

"O-six-hundred hours and thirty seconds," the computer answered immediately in a pleasant male voice.

Kirk shook the cobwebs out of his head.
I'll be damned! They even changed the voice on the computer! Wonder what Spock will think of that?
The thought of his first officer and friend reassured Kirk and caused him to smile. He was anticipating the reunion with all of his officers, but particularly Spock. If nothing else, Spock's presence would render all the disturbing changes insignificant.

The buzzer sounded. "Sir, Yeoman Helman with your uniforms."

"Just a minute, Yeoman." He slipped on a robe and pressed the door release. The new yeoman entered tentatively. "Come on in. I won't bite you."

"Yes, sir," she responded, unconvinced. "This is my first assignment, sir."

"Imagine that!" he said, amused by her bewilderment. "Don't you think you should hang those things up, Yeoman, ah …?"

"Helman, sir. Yes, sir …"

The new uniform was gray; the new issue had occurred while he was recovering. He frowned, put it on, and looked in the mirror. It was surprisingly flattering. "Not bad!" he commented, "another new thing to get used to."

Now officially uniformed, the captain of the
Enterprise
walked through the corridor to the turbolift. He was tempted to go to the transporter room to greet his returning officers but resisted the urge, deciding instead to monitor the crew's return from the bridge. "There'll be lots of time to catch up," he told himself. He hadn't seen most of his officers at all during his recovery and rest period. He assumed that, like him, they had decided to make the interval after the explosion as completely restorative as possible, trying to avoid episodes of needless rehashing of the ghastly experience they had all suffered.

Entering the bridge, he was greeted by a rush of perfume and an uninhibited hug from Uhura. She had decided to forgo all military decorum for now. Kirk, as happy as she was to see a familiar face, returned her embrace with gusto, much to the surprise of the helmsman who was new on board and had never encountered a captain who greeted his officers so effusively.

The captain took his seat, enjoying the feel of being back in action again. Next to enter was Sulu, who tapped the helmsman on the shoulder. "I relieve you, Lieutenant." He turned to Kirk. "It's great to be back on board, sir."

Kirk smiled broadly.

Chekov arrived next. He was sporting a new stripe on his uniform. "
Lieutenant
Chekov, reporting for duty, sir."

"Congratulations on the stripe, Lieutenant." Kirk shook his hand. "And Chekov, it's good to have you back on board."

Chekov and Sulu greeted each other warmly. It was beginning to feel like his ship again. Kirk eased back into his chair. He listened to the sounds of the mechanisms: each beep and buzz, each light that blinked, welcomed him back.
It's good to be alive—and to be back
.

"Transporter Room, sir. All personnel aboard."

"Acknowledged," Kirk answered routinely.

At the science console an unfamiliar man leaned over the instruments. Kirk noted Spock's absence.
He must be checking the computers
.

The voice from the transporter room had not been Scott's.
Must be in engineering, somewhere
, the captain supposed.

Kirk pressed the intercom button. "Mister Scott, we warp out in ten minutes." A long silence followed. "Mister Scott, do you hear me? Acknowledge, please."

"Lieutenant Commander Douglas, sir, Engineering. There is no one down here by that name, sir."

"Who's in charge down there?"

"I am, sir."

"Come up to the bridge, Douglas."

"Now, sir?"

"I didn't mean tomorrow. Get up here on the double!"

Sulu and Chekov glanced furtively over their shoulders at Kirk. Uhura turned to watch him, caught his eye, and quickly turned away. When he looked back, he caught Sulu staring at him.

"Mister Sulu, is there something I should know?"

Sulu squirmed uncomfortably and turned back to the helm; he punched the console buttons rapidly, attempting to look too absorbed to respond right away.

Kirk turned his chair and looked to the science station, now unmanned. He pushed the intercom button again.

"Mister Spock, report to the bridge immediately."

Uhura, in direct sight of the captain, tried to look inconspicuous.

Pushing the button again, Kirk spoke. "McCoy, report to the bridge."

"Yes, sir," came the quick reply from the chief surgeon. "On my way, Jim."

At last! A familiar voice
.

The small, dark man entering the bridge smiled engagingly. "Commander Leonidas, reporting for duty, sir." His tousled hair gave him an air of rakish abandon.

Kirk swiveled his chair to get a look at the unfamiliar officer. "I'm at a disadvantage, Commander. What is your position?"

"First officer, sir."

"First officer? I thought I already had a first officer—Spock. Where's Spock?"

Sulu turned, furtively glanced at Kirk, and looked back to his instruments.

"Lieutenant Commander Douglas, sir," the engineering officer reported smartly when he entered the bridge.

"You say you were assigned as chief engineer?" Kirk asked, obviously puzzled.

"Yes, sir."

"I need a computer readout. Where's Spock?" the captain demanded again.

A tall, large-boned blond entered the bridge. "Lieutenant Commander Martin, sir. Reporting for duty."

"What is
your
assignment?" a baffled Kirk asked the newcomer.

"Science officer, sir."

Kirk caught Sulu staring at him again. "Mister Sulu, do you know what's going on here? Why am I the last to know what's going on on
my
ship?" He turned to the science officer. "I want a readout of the duty roster. Right now!"

Martin stepped up to the computer terminal and pushed the appropriate buttons. Sitting tensely, Kirk waited. The others stood rigidly, not knowing what to expect from the evidently angered captain.

McCoy entered the bridge and immediately felt the tension.
Oh, boy! He's found out about Spock and Scott. All hell's gonna break loose! I should've told him before he got back onto the ship
.

"Bones!" Kirk just about shouted as he got up to greet his chief medical officer. "At least you're on board!"

Martin handed the duty roster to Kirk. He studied it, and looked up at his unfamiliar senior officers.

"We will meet in the briefing room in a half hour," he ordered in a low voice.

McCoy started to leave.

"You stay here, Bones!" Scowling, Kirk snapped at McCoy. "What's going on? You knew that Scotty and Spock weren't on board, didn't you?"

Sulu, Chekov, and Uhura stiffened as if ready for a blow.

"Not here, Jim. Let's go somewhere private."

"I won't be put off, Bones. Ship's business can be conducted on the bridge. Now, answer me!"

"Not here, Jim." McCoy walked to the turbolift with a reluctant Kirk following him.

They entered the doctor's office in sick bay and McCoy reached for his bottle of brandy. He handed Kirk a glass and took a large gulp of his own. The captain put his glass down untouched.

"I'm wating, Bones."

"Jim, it was in your best interest."

"What was in my best interest?"

"Not telling you."

"Not telling me what? Stop beating around the bush, McCoy. Just tell me what's going on. I didn't even get a duty roster before I came on board. I assumed I would have my entire crew back intact. You know why my two best officers are not on board. Stop delaying and tell me why!"

McCoy handed two computer tapes to Kirk, who turned them nervously in his hand. "This is your answer? Record tapes?"

"It's the official explanation, Jim."

"Explanation? Explanation of what?"

"You were too badly injured to be informed, Jim. It was my medical judgment to keep you in the dark. If you had gotten wind of the situation, you would have taken off, no matter how sick you were. There was nothing you could do, then or now."

Kirk inserted a tape into the playback.

Stardate 6101.1: Preliminary hearing, court-martial proceedings, Commander Spock and Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott. Charges: Desertion—theft of a Starfleet vehicle. Present location of defendants unknown. Case pending.

The second tape was a transcript of the hearing.

"Is this it?" Kirk took the tape out of the computer terminal and placed it on the table. He sat, waiting for McCoy to explain further. "Well, Bones?"

"What can I tell you, Jim? They disappeared. Not a clue as to where. No one really looked."

"Are you telling me no one has the slightest idea of where they went?"

McCoy shook his head. "Jim, if there was anything I could have done—they just took off and vanished. I suppose they headed for that series of dots Spock thought was so important. He was clearly dissatisfied with Starfleet's response—or lack of one—regarding what he believed to be sufficient evidence of sabotage behind the bridge explosion."