Demands of Honor (31 page)

When McCoy left, Kirk asked, “Michael, how are you feeling?”

Fuller pulled himself to a sitting position. “Fine, I'll be back on duty in no time I'm sure, Captain. The mission?”

“Completed. You destroyed the device and no one was injured in the final blast.”

“Good.”

“Michael, what happened down there? You disobeyed a direct order.”

“I'm sorry, Captain. I didn't want to put any of the squad at risk.”

“You put the
mission
at risk.” For a moment, Kirk could almost not believe that he had said that. He had known Fuller for fifteen years and he would never have thought such a thing was possible.

“My pride … I am sorry, sir, and of course, I will accept whatever consequences you think appropriate.”

Kirk studied the man's face and was sure of two things. First, something had happened down there. And second, Fuller was not going to tell him what it was. The lieutenant had completed the mission and Starfleet owed him a bit of indulgence—certainly Kirk owed him enough. But he had to make one thing clear.

“Michael, I can't have insubordination on my ship.”

“I can promise you that it won't happen again, sir.”

Whatever had happened on that planet, Kirk believed Fuller. “Take a few hours to rest and then I'll need your report.”

“I'll start right away, Captain.”

Kirk left and headed to the bridge. He still had one rather large headache to deal with, though he had an idea about how to do that. Stepping out of the turbolift, he said, “Mister Spock, status of the Klingon vessel?”

“Sensors show no power to drives or weapons. Thirty-two life signs aboard.”

Those thirty-two people had mutinied against Captain Koloth, but now they sat on the ship. Kirk couldn't allow the ship to stay in Federation space, nor could he allow Koloth and his crew to remain on the planet. And
he certainly couldn't have them on the
Enterprise,
even temporarily—as if they would agree to such a thing.

“Approaching Klingon vessel,” Spock said.

“As soon as we are in range, I want a tractor beam on them,” Kirk said.

A moment later, Spock said, “Tractor beam engaged.”

“Mister Sulu, geostationary orbit, directly over the mine,” Kirk said.

“Aye, sir,” Sulu said.

“Captain, may I ask what you are planning?” Spock said.

“Mister Spock, this is a problem for the Klingons to settle. Koloth has access to the transporter in the mine. They will have to use it to settle their differences and get the hell out of our space. If they can't get their ship operating, we'll tow them to the border and give them a push.”

A short time later, Sulu announced that they were in position.

“Disengage tractor beam,” Kirk said. “Mister Sulu, give us some room.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Lieutenant Uhura, get me Captain Koloth,” Kirk said.

Karel would have preferred it if Duras's soldiers—he still could not call them warriors—had fought well, but he found some release in the battle just the same. They had inflicted a few casualties when Karel's force retook the ship, but not many.

At Koloth's suggestion he had taken just thirty-two warriors to defeat the thirty-two surviving traitors, but it
had ended quickly. Without their sniveling leader, Duras's Klingons were nothing.

“The entire crew is back on board,” Karel announced.

“Repair estimate?” Koloth said.

“Impulse engines are back online now.” Koloth raised an eyebrow and Karel said, “We retook engineering first. Work started before the last of the traitors were killed. We should have warp power in four hours.”

“Excellent, prepare to break orbit.”

Karel understood the captain's impatience. They had won against Duras, but they were sitting nearly defenseless in Federation space. Kirk was an honorable foe. Karel understood that, and so did Koloth now, but the indignity was too great.

Karel wished he had met and spoken to the man who had been his brother's human captain and who had won both Kell's respect and allegiance.

In time, anything was possible, but first both the Federation and the Klingon Empire would have to survive one another. However, at the moment, he was most concerned that the empire survive its own failings. External enemies could be guarded against and fought, but enemies who moved among them? Klingons like Duras? How could a tree fight its own rot?

How could the empire prevail in a war with the Federation with Klingons such as Duras on the High Council itself? Duras was now gone, and Karel's brother's spirit was avenged, but he was not fool enough to think that Duras was the end of the dishonor in their leadership.

The empire would have to change, to adapt or perish.

Karel, son of Gorkon, would do what he could to see
that the empire built from the strength of Kahless's blood would not perish. For now. He would enjoy the knowledge that his brother's killer was dead. And though it had been Karel's own hands that had taken Kell's life, he was now certain that the real murderer had been Duras, who had sought to take honor, then life.

For the first time since he had heard news of his brother's death, the portion of Kell's spirit that resided in Karel's own blood was quiet.

Uncle stepped forward into the clan meeting pit and said, “Your father saved our world and our people from the green-skins. Now you have saved us from their masters, the Klingons. The clans have spoken to one another and we see that we need to speak with a single voice. We would like you to be that voice, Adon, son of Gorath.”

“I do not have my father's wisdom or his strength, but I will do what I can. We have all won a great victory today, but the danger is not passed. A great and terrible war will soon rage in the space above our skies. We cannot afford to choose the wrong ally, or no ally at all. Gorath wanted us to have a chance to learn, to eventually join the races in space as equals. I still believe that is what we should do. But we shall do it now with a powerful ally, a Federation which has fought with us twice now and shown their friendship.” It was not much of a speech, Adon thought, but the people around him did not seem to notice and cheered his words just the same. He knew he was not his father, but he would do his best to safeguard his father's people.

“Kirk waits,” Bethe said. She was at his side, where she had been since the news of his father's death and the
arrival of the Klingons. Now, he realized, she was standing even closer. Then he looked in her eyes and saw why.

He smiled to himself that he had not seen it before, though now that he had, he did not think he would be able to look at her and not see the truth of it. Leaning down and without another word, Adon kissed her. She was surprised, but not unhappy, and returned the kiss.

Pulling back, he said, “Let us go meet the human.”

Walking back to the landing site, McCoy asked, “You like that boy Adon, don't you, Jim?”

“Yes, he's a lot like his father, but much too young for the job he's been given,” Kirk said.

“Seems like his people are happy to have him.”

“They're lucky, but I wonder, just what have we brought to these people, Bones?”

“We didn't bring anything to them, the Klingons did. These people are still here because of what we did.”

“And now we'll give them more powerful weapons,” Kirk said.

“And modern medicine, and a dozen other things. It's their choice, Jim. Maybe they were better off before anyone knew they were there, but the galaxy got in. All we can do is help them now the best we can.”

“The Klingons offered them help as well.”

“And they didn't mean a word of it. You know that, just like you know there is a difference between us and the people who built that mine. I know you do.”

The doctor was right, of course. There was a difference. Kirk believed in what the Federation stood for, in what Starfleet stood for, but he was also a pragmatist—his job demanded it. At the moment, Starfleet was the
only thing that stood between the Klingons who'd built the mine and the rest of the galaxy. The problem was that he would not deceive himself; the empire had better captains and crews than the ones the
Enterprise
had faced on the
D'k Tahg
today. At their best, a battle cruiser and a starship were evenly matched. When the war came and the battle was begun, all of their fine ideals would matter little against Klingon weapons.

A single truth kept coming back in Kirk's mind:
We will fight with everything we have
…

… but we might lose.

U.S.S. ENTERPRISE

FEDERATION SPACE

L
IEUTENANT
C
OMMANDER
G
IOTTO
had come by, and then Fuller's squad had come. However, they had come together and Fuller hadn't had a chance to talk privately with Parmet as he had hoped to do. Well, that could wait. They would be in orbit for at least a few more days. There was work to be done in the mine. Repairs and other assistance.

Starfleet had pressing business for the
Enterprise,
but it would not abandon Adon and his people. And the fact was, the precious dilithium that they had provided would be a real help if it came to war.

When it comes to war,
he thought.

He was surprised that it was Parrish who came to get him. “Lieutenant, how are you feeling?”

“Fine, and you?” he asked. She was starting to show just slightly under her uniform.

“A little sick, but Doctor McCoy says that's normal. I think he'll feel better when I'm in the hands of an expert.”

“When is your transport?”

“Two days. I'll be on Earth by the end of the week.” Something passed over her face. “I can't help feeling that I'm running out on the ship.”

“Nonsense, we all have our jobs to do. We'll handle things here, but your work is important too. And you're doing something I could never do, Leslie.”

It was true. And he knew there was more to it than she had told him. Fuller had heard that there were going to be some complications with her pregnancy. There was even a danger to Parrish, yet she was going through with it. That pleased Fuller somehow. Plenty of people could do what he would do in the next weeks, months, and years, but if the Federation was going to survive, they would need people like Parrish as well.

They left sickbay together and he felt Parrish's eyes on him. “Are you ready for this, sir?”

“I am,” he said, and found that he meant it. “I wasn't before, but I am now.”

She nodded as if she understood, and Fuller thought that he might want to check on her if he made it back to Earth. To his surprise, he found himself thinking about what he would do when he got back. He would also check in on Sam's mother, Alison, whom he hadn't spoken to in years, excluding the conversation they had had when he'd told her about Sam's death.

There was a reunion of the survivors of Donatu V
every year at a San Francisco bar. Fuller had never gone, but he thought he might like to try it. And there had been that woman in his building's gym. They had shared nothing but polite smiles, but he thought that maybe it was time to move beyond that.

The future was unimaginably far away, but he could feel it out there just the same.

Fuller didn't hesitate when they reached the dining room; he simply stepped through the door. Inside, he got a genuine surprise: more than twenty people were waiting and they were applauding him, looking at him in something of the way Sam had done when he was growing up.

It was not what he had expected. A handful of people had served with Sam and known him well. Parrish, Jawer, Clark, and a few others. A few days ago they had wanted to tell him about their experiences with his son. But Parmet was here, the rest of Fuller's squad, and other people from engineering, the sciences, every department on the ship—and three of the civilians from the
Harmony.

“I think I stepped into the wrong party,” he said.

Ensign Parmet stepped forward. “We all wanted to do something for you.”

“But I don't know most of you.”

“But we all know you.” Parmet stopped for a moment and gathered himself. “When I was ten years old, our colony on Lynwood Four was attacked by Nausicaan raiders. They held us for a week until your team came in.” Tears formed on Parmet's face. “My parents fought them and were killed. They were going to kill the children next, and then you …”

He didn't need to finish. Fuller remembered Lynwood
IV well. There had been children, he recalled. Had one of them really been Parmet? Was it possible? Suddenly, quite a few things made sense: the ensign's behavior around him, his familiarity with Fuller's career, even his punching the Anti-Federation League man a moment before Fuller did so himself.

Parmet stopped speaking, tears streaming down his face. Fuller felt them welling in his own eyes. He knew better than to fight a battle he could not win and let them come. He put a hand on Parmet's shoulder, then the young man threw his arms around him.

A few seconds later, Parmet stood back. “I owe you my life, sir. And there are more of us.”

There had been more:
My grandfather served with you on the
Endeavour …

My mother was on the
Republic …

I grew up on …

They all had stories that they needed to tell and Fuller knew he needed to hear. In each tale, he heard something he had long ago given up hope of ever seeing in his career or in his life …

A legacy.

Kevin Ryan is the author of ten books, including the best-selling
Star Trek: Errand of Vengeance
trilogy. He wrote the
USA Today
bestselling novelization of
Van Helsing,
as well as two books for the
Roswell
series. In addition, Ryan has published a number of comic books and written for television. He lives in New York and can be reached at [email protected].