Chapter Seven

KIRK HADN’T BEEN ABOARD for fifteen minutes when the trouble started. He, Scott, and Chekov were unpacking in the cramped quarters that would serve as home for the duration of the trip. None of the three had shared such close quarters with anyone else for a long time, and there was much joking and bumping of elbows. They left the door open and at one point Scott was looking down the corridor.

“Ah, looks like there’s someone coming to see us,” he remarked.

Kirk’s head came up. “Female?”

“Aye.”

Kirk swore, underneath his breath. Would Skalli never leave him alone? He backed off to the side and said in a whisper, “Tell her I’m not here.” Damn it, she ought to at least let him unpack before she came to harass him.

Scott and Chekov looked at him oddly, then Scott shrugged. He stepped into the doorway and leaned against the frame, effectively blocking Skalli’s entrance. Kirk flattened himself against a wall.

“Hey,” said a voice that was definitely not Skalli’s. “Name’s Kate Gallagher.”

“The captain’s not here,” Scott said, and at the same time, Kirk stepped forward to greet the new visitor. There was an awkward silence. Kirk smiled faintly, embarrassed at having been caught trying to duck someone.

The human female who stood just outside the doorway had short brown hair, wore the loose khaki pants and white sleeveless shirt that served as an informal uniform here, and had no jewelry or cosmetics on. Her frame was lean and wiry, and judging by the collection of freckles on her face she’d spent a lot of time in the sun. She stuck out a callused hand.

Kirk hesitated for just a moment at the incredible informality, realized he’d better get used to it, and shook the proffered hand. “I’m Jim Kirk.”

“Yeah, I know. Looks like you are here after all. Nice to meet—” Gallagher broke off in midsentence, staring past Kirk at the half-unpacked suitcase on the cot.

“Is there a problem?” Kirk asked.

“Yeah,” she said, as if he were stupid. Gallagher pointed at the phaser. “That. We don’t allow weapons. I’m surprised you were able to smuggle it aboard.”

Kirk bridled at the implication that he had sneaked the weapon on. “Alex knows I have it. He gave us special permission.” The ship, of course, had ample defense technology, but regarding additional weapons Alex had made it clear that as far as he was concerned there was no need for them, not even to protect themselves from the planet’s native creatures, and to arrive in a place called Sanctuary bristling with tools of violence would only send the wrong message to the Falorians. Kirk’s nephew had relented, very reluctantly, for the three Starfleet men only because Kirk had told him that he and his two friends would either have handheld phasers or they wouldn’t come.

“This is a peaceful mission,” Gallagher said, her eyes going hard and flinty. “We don’t need weapons where we’re going. Biggest predator there is a miyanlak. It’s about the size of a coyote and very shy.”

“Look, Kate,” Kirk began in a placating tone, but Gallagher had obviously found something else about which to wax wroth.

“Oh, my God,” she said, “is that fur ?” She pointed at something furry and plaid in Scott’s bag.

“Aye, that’s rabbit fur. It’s a sporran,” Scott said defensively. “It’s been passed down in my family for almost two hundred years. It’s part of my formal dress uniform.”

Kate laughed, but it wasn’t a friendly sound. She crossed her hands over her chest in a defensive posture. “You know, I was going to give you guys the benefit of the doubt. I thought you’d at least try to respect our beliefs, work with us. You bring weapons, dead animals—I just don’t know.”

She turned and stalked out. Kirk stared after her, hardly believing the whirlwind of rudeness and aggression that had just swept through the tiny cabin.

“Well,” Chekov said, “I feel so welcome now.”

“Ah,” Scott said, as if he’d just figured that out. “That’s Kate then, is it?”

“What do you know about her? Other than that she’s blunter than a Klingon,” Kirk asked.

“Great lover of peace, that one. And beasties. I remember reading her bio—she’s devoted to figuring out ways to protect endangered species. Can’t suppose I blame the lassie. In this day and age, we don’t need to make coats out o’ their fur. But I tell you, Captain, this wee bunny would have been dead a long time ago o’ natural causes.”

“Don’t let her get to you, Scotty. We knew we’d rub some people the wrong way. I’m sure that once we get to know these people, it’ll all work out.”

He was sure of nothing of the sort.

During the trip, the old Enterprise crew members did indeed get to know some of the colonists. A few seemed approachable: Dr. Leah Cohen, an oceanographer; Alys Harper, a linguist and communications expert; the head geologist Mark Veta; and Dr. Theodore Simon, the medical doctor for the colony. Others, like Gallagher, the Talgart botanist Mattkah, and the taciturn engineer Kevin Talbot, seemed to take an instant and permanent dislike to the three Starfleet officers. The rest fell into a swirl of names and faces that never particularly stood out. They would come to the mess hall, eat quickly, and scurry back to their quarters.

The only exceptions were, of course, Skalli, who ambushed Kirk for chats repeatedly, and Alex. Alexander alone sought out his uncle and his friends. When he was with Kirk, the others all relaxed and risked friendly smiles and hellos. They followed his lead almost like dogs awaiting commands from their master. They might clash with one another—and Kirk was witness to a few arguments, particularly between Mattkah and Gallagher—but they all turned toward Alex like flowers to the sun. Kirk realized that Alex was, like George Washington on Earth in the eighteenth century, the “indispensable man.” One thing he seemed to do with ease was bring disparate people together and focus them on a mutually beneficial goal.

Kirk, Scott, and Chekov found themselves seeking out one another’s company almost constantly. At first, Kirk thought it was his imagination, but when both Scott and Chekov ruefully reported their own litany of polite refusals and occasional downright snubs, Kirk realized something he should have seen before: Among this group of peace-loving scientists and engineers, Starfleet’s comparatively martial presence just wasn’t welcome,

“How ironic,” Kirk mused over lunch one day. As usual, he, Chekov, and Scotty were sitting by themselves. “I can’t count the number of times that I’ve said the words ‘we mean you no harm’ or ‘we are a peaceful people’ in various alien encounters over the years, but that seems to count for nothing here.”

“When I was first officer aboard the Reliant,” Chekov said, “I had to work closely with the scientific types. They are not easy to get to know, but they are good people.”

“And an engineer is an engineer,” Scott said between mouthfuls of reconstituted stew-like substance. “Scientist, Starfleet, peace lover, what have you. Scratch the surface of an engineer, and you’ll find a heart of dilithium.” His eyes crinkled at his joke, and even Kirk smiled a little.

“I’m certain we’ll find that we have more in common than we think once we reach Sanctuary and get to work,” Kirk said. “We’ll be living together, working alongside one another. Our differences won’t seem so great once we’re working toward a common goal.”

He knew his voice rang with assurance, but he had his doubts. And he was to be proved right.

The enormous transport that was the Mayflower II settled with surprising gentleness on the planet’s surface. Kirk had had plenty of time alone to familiarize himself with what to expect.

Sanctuary was a Class-M planet, with all of the attendant climates that usually included. They had landed in the northern hemisphere in a temperate zone that would be pleasantly warm in the summers and occasionally snowy in the winters. Small teams utilizing the single shuttle called the Drake would explore in detail other climates, some of which, such as the desert area with its deadly sandstorms, were hostile indeed. That in-depth level of exploration and possible expansion was slated for what the colonists called Year Two. Today, the landing, was Day One of Year One. Kirk thought this new numbering of days and years was a bit silly, but the colonists liked it, so he said nothing.

There would be plenty of time to settle in before the winter approached; it was late spring, and when Kirk stepped out onto Sanctuary’s soil for the first time, the smells that teased his nostrils made him smile. For the first time since they’d left Earth, he felt excited and hopeful about the project’s success again. It was truly a beautiful place.

Standing ready to greet them were six beings that Kirk assumed were Falorians. Standing Crane had been right. They did resemble the Huanni, which of course made sense if indeed both species had originated on the same planet, as Skalli had said. But they were different, too; stockier, less animated in their movements. He smiled and automatically stepped forward, but a gentle hand on his arm stayed him.

“Julius has had the dealings with the Falorians, Uncle Jim,” Alex said softly. “He should be the one to address them first.”

Of course, Alex was right. “Sorry,” Kirk said. “Old habits die hard.”

He stood next to Alex, taking his cues from his nephew, as the colonists, all 108 of them, exited the Mayflower II. He expected them to form a line, but instead they all clustered together, talking animatedly. Kirk frowned to himself. This was hardly the way to greet one’s host. A more formal appearance was called for. He bit his tongue.

Julius was the last one out. Kirk was certain this wasn’t accidental. The young man ran lightly down the steps and stretched out a hand to one of the Falorians.

“Kal-Tor Lissan,” Julius said. “It is good to see you again.”

“And you, Julius Kirk,” the Falorian leader said politely. Kirk assumed Kal-Tor was a title, but not a military one, much like “chieftain” or “leader” or “head.” “We have long looked forward to this day.”

Lissan was speaking with Julius, but his large, dark eyes were scanning the crowd. “Permit me to introduce my brother,” Julius said. “Alexander, this is Kal-Tor Lissan, the person I’ve been in negotiations with.”

“Julius speaks of you often and highly, Kal-Tor,” Alex said, stepping forward to shake the alien’s hand. “We are so grateful that you have entrusted us with Sanctuary. We will take good care of her.”

“I’m certain you will,” Lissan replied politely. His eyes fell upon Kirk. “Forgive me, but … do I detect a family resemblance with this person here as well?”

“You do,” Alex said. “This is my uncle, Captain James T. Kirk.”

“Ah,” Lissan said, nodding. “Even out here on the edge of Federation space, we have heard of the famous Captain Kirk. We are honored to have you here, Captain.”

“It’s an honor to be here, Kal-Tor,” Kirk replied. “I understand you are in negotiations to join the Federation. I wish you every success. You have shown good faith thus far.”

Lissan seemed flattered and inclined his head. “We are eager to become a part of such a fine organization of worlds. Your people will see that we have much to offer.” His eyes narrowed a little as he regarded Skalli, who was practically jumping up and down. “I see that you have brought a neighbor. What is your name, Huanni child?”

“I’m Skalli Jksili, Kal-Tor,” she said, bowing deeply. “As a member of this colony, and especially as a Huanni, I look forward to getting to know you and your people better.” For her, it was an extraordinarily restrained response. Kirk was surprised.

“We will be visiting from time to time, to discuss how things are progressing,” Lissan said. “Perhaps there will be a chance for us to converse then. In the meantime, I see that you have much to do. Julius, you know how to contact us if you have problems.”

He touched a bright button on his robe. “Please transport,” he said, and he and the others vanished.

“Wow!” Skalli yelped, her composure evaporating like dew beneath a strong sun. “That was a Falorian! A real, live, Falorian! I can’t believe it!”

“Believe it,” Kirk said, putting a restraining hand on her slim shoulder. “Come on. Let’s unpack and make this place home.”

Despite the assurances of Kal-Tor Lissan, the colonists did not see a great deal of the Falorians, and most of them seemed to like it that way. The first few days were filled with the practical necessities of simply getting the colony up and running.

Most of the Mayflower II’s vast storage space had been devoted to materials that were now put to good use in constructing sound, stylish shelters. Part of the ship itself was broken down as well. They would need to keep her in flying order in case of an emergency evacuation, of course, but she could be largely stripped and much of her parts utilized. No rustic log cabins here; all was new, gleaming, and very high-tech.

In keeping with Alex’s sentiment that he wanted this colony to feel like a family, there was only one large building. In the center was a room that could accommodate all the colonists with ease. Here was where reports on progress would be given and where weekly meetings would be held. Right off this room was a mess hall, with a large pantry to store food harvested from Sanctuary’s bounty and top-of-the-line equipment for preparing it. The entire left section of the compound was composed of labs and testing areas; the right-hand side, of living quarters. Kirk was quite relieved when he learned that he would have a private room, although when he saw it, he thought it smaller than his ready room aboard the Enterprise.

A staggering quantity of delicate, complex equipment was hauled out and set up in the testing areas. Scott, who was finally actually able to get his hands on some of these technological beauties, was openly in awe of them. This endeared him to his fellow engineers, most of whom had had a hand in creating the obviously admired technology.

There was a wide-open field right in front of the building. When there was time, people dragged out chairs to watch the sunset before heading in to dinner. It had gotten the name of the Courtyard, although it wasn’t one in the real sense of the word, and as names often do, this one stuck.

There was a new sense of camaraderie as the colonists worked together to build their new homes and workplaces. But once they had finished construction, the colonists dove for their laboratories like gophers for their holes, and Kirk again felt the discomfort he had experienced while they had traveled to get here.

He had expected that Skalli would be a complete nuisance, but she turned out to be only a moderate one. With her eidetic memory and the staggering rate at which she was able to absorb information, she quickly became rather popular among the Sanctuarians, as the colonists had taken to calling themselves. She flitted easily from engineering to chemistry to medicine to geothermal mapping, and was clearly enjoying herself immensely. Her eyes still lit up whenever Kirk entered a room, however, and whenever she had a free moment she would seek him out. But she was in great demand, and her time was rarely her own. Kirk imagined that eventually, once they had learned to control their emotions to some degree, the Huanni would be very valuable contributors to the Federation.

Even his old friends Scotty and Chekov were less frequent companions than he had expected. He wasn’t surprised that Scotty had been so taken with the bright and shiny new engineering technology that was going to be experimented with and perfected here on Sanctuary; this was, after all, the man who had been delighted to be confined to quarters because it gave him a chance to catch up on his technical journals. It was Chekov’s interest in, and proficiency with, scientific research that had surprised Kirk. He had clearly learned much as first officer aboard the Reliant, and despite his protests about wanting his own captaincy, was clearly enjoying himself.

For the first few nights, once they had erected such things as private quarters, Kirk and his nephews had dined together. It had been awkward and strained, more so than their midnight encounter a few weeks ago when they had turned up on Kirk’s doorstep. This, however, did not surprise Kirk.

Up until this colonial venture, Kirk had been in command, wherever he was. Over many years he had come to accept, embrace, and excel in his role as a natural leader. Now, he wasn’t sure where he fit in. Alexander was the founder and head of the colony, and clearly everyone adored him.

He had no particular interest in science or medicine, and any knowledge and training he had was hopelessly outdated when compared to the “it was just discovered last week” experience of this group. He had learned his way around the engine room of a starship, but he couldn’t even begin to guess what those coils, pulsating colors, and humming sounds meant.

Alex had insisted that having the family together—what they could cobble together of it, anyway—was important to him, and Kirk had no doubt that Alex had meant it at the time. Alexander Kirk was like his father, nothing if not sincere and earnest. But the reality was that with Kirk present, Alex would be upstaged if he didn’t assert his authority often and clearly. Kirk didn’t blame the younger man; he’d have done the same in his position. An expedition like this needed a clear leader.

As for raising their profile with Starfleet and the Federation in general, Kirk had already done all he could. Now they were stuck out here on this rock, love ly though it was, and Kirk realized he wanted nothing more than to go back home. Even his apartment in San Francisco would be better than here; at least there, he was surrounded by familiar and loved things.

But Jim Kirk liked nothing better than a challenge, and so he determined that he would win over some of the people who seemed the least likely to befriend him. His first target was Kate Gallagher. He had downloaded her bio from the computer, and had to admit she was impressive. She was only thirty-four and had already won seven major awards, including the coveted Peace Star for Humanitarian Achievement. Gallagher was deeply passionate about her work, and Kirk figured that that much, at least, they had in common.

She kept the lab door open all the time, but Kirk knocked gently on the wall nonetheless. Kate turned from the computer, saw who it was, and a look of irritation crossed her sharp features.

“Thought even you would figure out that if a door was left open you could come in,” she said.

“Just trying to be polite,” Kirk said. “I’ve been reading your bio, Kate.”

“It’s a free colony,” she said, keeping her eyes on the screen. Her short-nailed fingers flew over the keyboard as she entered data.

“I’m very impressed. Why didn’t you tell us you had won the Peace Star?”

“I know stuff like that matters to you Starfleet people, but I don’t give a damn about it,” she said.

“You give a damn about protecting innocent creatures,” Kirk said, refusing to rise to the bait. “You were the only one who believed the Vree rats were sentient. You saved an entire species from being relocated—which would have led to their extinction.”

Now she did turn and look at him. “Yeah,” she said. “The rest of the team wanted to clear them out to study the other flora and fauna. Wanted to transport them across the planet to a comparable temperate zone.”

“And you proved that doing so would remove them from their sole source of nourishment—insects that had fed on a certain type of honey. You believed, against every available shred of evidence, that those small rodents were intelligent.”

“Thank God there was a Vulcan in the group willing to do a mind-meld,” she said.

“Ever heard of the Horta?”

Kate looked down. Her cheeks were red. “Yeah.”

“Kind of a similar situation, don’t you think?”

“Jim, I’ve read your bio, too. About the Horta … and about all the space battles in which you participated.”

“I’m not in battle now, and I don’t want to be. Truce?”

She glowered, but she didn’t say no. Encouraged, Kirk asked, “I hear you’re working on something quite remarkable. Something that could protect endangered species all across the galaxy.”

“I call it the Masker,” Gallagher said. Was Kirk mistaken or was that the beginning of a smile playing at the edge of her lips? “Hundreds of years ago we tagged animals with primitive means, to keep track of their progress. We still do it now, though, of course, with a much less invasive method. There are so many animals that are being poached across the galaxy it just makes me sick. We can only do so much, but I got to thinking—today’s poacher finds his prey by scanning for its signs on a tricorder. What if we tagged animals so that their signal was masked? It wouldn’t be that hard—just insert a small chip under the skin that sends out a signal that confuses a tricorder. Suddenly, they’re invisible.”

“Of course, each species has a different type of tricorder,” Kirk pointed out. “A signal that would confuse a Federation tricorder wouldn’t protect an animal from a Klingon using his people’s tricorder.”

Her thin shoulders sagged. “Yeah, and that’s the problem.”

“Kate, I think it’s a brilliant idea,” Kirk said, and meant it. “Our Mr. Scott might be able to help you out a bit, if you’d let him know you were interested.”

She hesitated. “I’ll think about it.” She turned back to the computer and Kirk knew he’d been dismissed. He turned to leave.

“Hey, Jim?”

He turned around. “Yes?”

She smiled, fully this time. “Good job with the Horta.”