Chapter Nine

“I DON’T CARE if Lissan isn’t scheduled to return for three days, I want him here now.” Kirk was aware that he was close to bellowing but frankly didn’t give a damn. They still hadn’t been able to communicate with the away team and had watched in quiet apprehension as the fierce storm had settled directly over the monitoring post for almost two hours. Kirk and the others knew that if the party had been caught outside, they’d be dead by now.

“But you don’t understand,” said Julius, flushing a little. “I can’t just order them to—”

“Fine. Then I will,” Kirk shot back.

“Hey,” snapped Julius, stepping in toward Kirk and looking him in the eye. “I’m the one who deals with the Falorians. You keep your Starfleet nose out of it.”

Kirk smiled without humor. “I seem to recall that my Starfleet nose—or at least my Starfleet self—was one of the things you and your brother desperately wanted to get to Sanctuary.”

He took a deep breath and calmed himself. He reached to put his hands on Julius’s shoulders but the youth angrily shook them off.

“Julius, listen to me. Something is going on that is causing our communications to be disrupted. Because of it we weren’t able to warn the team about the sandstorm. They could be dead as a result of that. It’s your own brother. Aren’t you worried?”

Julius’s blue eyes continued to bore into Kirk’s, but a muscle in his jaw tightened. “It could be equipment malfunction,” he said, sounding to Kirk’s ears like a stubborn child.

“We’ve checked everything out. Besides, that wouldn’t take into account the communicators,” Kirk replied. “Something external is jamming the frequencies. I’m not accusing the Falorians of anything. I’m sure they don’t even realize what’s going on, but I’m also sure that they are the ones responsible, even if it’s indirectly. Now, will you contact them or shall I?”

Julius’s shoulders drooped slightly. “I’ll do it,” he said. “Once we have communication again.”

Uncle and nephew stood side by side in the communications room for the next twenty-three minutes, arms folded across their chests in almost identical poses, until with a burst of static a welcome, lively female voice was heard.

“—Heart. Come in, Sanctuary Heart. Repeat, we have minor injuries and are returning to home base, do you copy?”

With a relieved grin, Kirk leaned forward to reply. Julius’s hand blocked the motion and the younger Kirk said, “We read you loud and clear, Skalli. What is the nature of your injuries? Is everyone accounted for?”

“We’re fine, Juley,” came Alex’s voice, turning warm with affection. “We lost communications and were right at the monitoring post when the storm hit. I’ve no doubt you saw it on your sensors.”

“We did indeed,” Julius said. “Pretty big one.”

“We have some minor dermal abrasions but were able to find shelter in time,” Alex continued.

“Thank God for that,” Julius said, sounding more sincere than Kirk had ever heard him. He glanced at his nephew and saw that Julius was pale and shaking a little. And were those tears he was blinking back? For the first time, Kirk realized just how deeply these two brothers were bonded.

“Did you figure out what was causing the malfunction?”

Julius, who was leaning over the console, looked up at Kirk. The cautious, hard mask was back in place. “Not exactly,” he said. “We think perhaps the Falorians may have accidentally jammed the signal. We’re going to try to talk to them.”

“Good thinking, Julius,” Alex said approvingly.

Julius scowled.

When the shuttle finally arrived, Julius hurried to embrace his brother. Six engineers scuttled out to attend to the Drake, looking for all the world like busy ants. Kirk felt a strong hand on his arm and glanced up to see Scott propelling him to a quiet corner.

“What happened out there, Scotty?” Kirk asked.

“Your nephew cracked,” Scott said. “He’s a good lad, mind, and I’m not passing judgment, but he panicked.”

“You were the one who found the shelter, then?”

“Och, no, can’t take that credit. Young Skalli kept her wits about her and found it for us.”

Surprised and impressed, Kirk looked up to see Skalli talking with Chekov, waving her arms, flapping her ears, and pointing back at the shuttle.

“Good for her. How bad was Alex?” he asked quietly.

Scott shrugged. “Och, he’ll be fine for the most part. But let me say I’m glad we’re here if there’s any real trouble.”

Julius was able to reach Lissan, who showed up by evening the next day. Kirk, who had agreed to let Julius do most of the talking but had insisted on being present, was champing at the bit but managed to restrain himself. Communications continued to be erratic, and Kirk knew it was by sheer luck that he hadn’t lost three crewmen, including his nephew, the first Huanni to attend Starfleet Academy, and one of his oldest, dearest friends.

Lissan materialized in the Courtyard. “Good evening,” he said. “Julius, it is good to see you again. Alexander, let me express my pleasure that you are all right. Ah, and Captain. It is good to see you again as well. Julius has informed me of your communication difficulties. It’s rather embarrassing, but … well, I’m afraid they’re not going to end any time soon.”

“Why not?” Kirk said, before he could stop himself. Julius glared at him.

“We are planning to reopen an old facility on the other side of the planet,” Lissan continued. “You have inspired us with your colony, you see. We realized that we, too, could make use of Sanctuary.”

“It was my understanding that you had given Sanctuary to us, freely, as a goodwill gesture,” Alex said.

“And so we have! We will do nothing to hinder you, Alexander. You won’t even know we’re here.”

“Well, it’s difficult not to know you’re here when your facility is interfering with our ability to communicate with anyone off world,” Kirk said. He was just going to ignore Julius. “What kind of facility are we talking about?”

“Merely a resupply base for trading with various cargo ships.”

“That accounts for the increase in subspace communication,” Julius said, as if it explained everything.

“What about the problems in our communications?” Kirk pressed.

“We have erected a shield over the trading facility, and it appears to be that which is interfering with your communications,” Lissan said.

“A shield? To protect you from what?” Kirk continued.

Lissan looked embarrassed. “Well, you see, Captain … some people with whom we trade are … one hates to say it … not entirely trustworthy, and might attempt to take cargo on without paying for it. The shield prevents them from absconding with anything of value. They have to be let in and out, one at a time. There is no chance of anyone attempting a quick transport that way.”

It made sense, but there was still something wrong about the explanation to Kirk. Julius had given up trying to interrupt and now simply leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, and an obvious, open scowl on his face. Alex leaned forward, clearly interested in following the discussion.

“I see your predicament,” Kirk said, hoping to put the alien at ease.

“Not everyone is as honest as the Federation and the Sanctuary colonists,” Lissan said generously.

“Clearly you need this shield. Equally clearly, we need to communicate with our friends and families. Is there any way you can change the shield’s frequency so it doesn’t interfere with our signals?”

Again, Lissan looked uncomfortable and apologetic. “Our technology is not nearly as advanced as yours. I regret to inform you that for now at least, we can only operate the shield on this specific frequency.”

Keeping an open, honest expression on his face, Kirk spread his arms in an all-encompassing gesture. “It is my understanding that the reason you were willing to host this colony is to promote open exchange. Isn’t that right, Alex?”

“Oh, yes!” Alex said eagerly. “We’d be happy to help you! It would be an honor to be able to assist our benefactors.”

“We have a dozen or more highly skilled engineers, including one I can personally vouch for,” Kirk continued. “We’d be happy to send them over to your … facility … and make whatever adjustments are necessary.”

“Captain, you and Alex are most generous,” Lissan said warmly. “But you have set us a challenge, you see.”

“You mean, this is something you want to do on your own?” Julius said before either Alex or Kirk could speak.

“Precisely,” Lissan said. “You are an inspiration to our own scientists. We would like to tackle this problem ourselves.”

“But it would be so much quicker if—” began Alex, but his brother interrupted him.

“Come on, Alex! The Falorians have been so helpful to us in getting us Sanctuary and as Lissan says, we’ve been an inspiration to them. You don’t want to take the thrill of discovery away from them, do you?”

“Please don’t,” Lissan said. “Trust us—when we are, how do you put it, at the end of our rope, we won’t hesitate to contact you! In the meantime, we will enjoy figuring this out on our own.”

“How long will it be until you reach the end of your rope?” Kirk demanded.

For the first time since Kirk had seen him, Lissan appeared to be caught offguard. “I really have no idea. I—”

“Give me your best guess.”

“A—a few weeks,” Lissan said.

Kirk had more to say—a lot more. But Julius stepped forward quickly. “Then it’s settled,” Julius said firmly. “The Falorians will work it out on their own and they’ll ask for help if things don’t look promising. Thanks, Uncle Jim, Alex. Lissan, I do have some questions on the specifics of something. A word?”

The two walked away together, chatting quietly. Alex smiled. “Well, that problem is solved.”

“I hope so,” Kirk said, but as he watched the alien and his nephew bow their heads together in close conversation, he had his doubts.

“So,” Alexander said to his brother as they dined together late that night on leftover salad and pasta, “Everything is okay, isn’t it?”

Julius sopped up some tomato sauce with his bread and popped it into his mouth. Chewing, he replied, “Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine. The Falorians aren’t as technologically advanced as we are, you know, so there are bound to be some glitches when they try something new.” He twirled spaghetti around his fork. “Plenty of time to help them out when they get stuck and ask for our help.”

“I never would have thought about it that way,” Alex said. “But I suppose that’s part of diplomacy, isn’t it? Helping the other species save face.”

“They’re a good people, but are a little embarrassed about their personal lack of technology,” Julius said facilely, pouring his third glass of robust red wine. “It’s best to let them try everything they can first.”

“You’re right, as usual,” smiled Alex. “You really do know these people well, don’t you?”

“Yes,” said Julius. “I do.”

That night, as he lay in bed, Julius couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned, alternately sweating and chilled. It had been close, today. Far too close for comfort. Alex could have died out there, and the Falorians hadn’t said anything to Julius about jamming their communications.

He knew their messages were being monitored, of course. They had been since the beginning, but earlier, at least, Lissan and his cohorts had been very careful to disguise it. If Kirk hadn’t brought that Russian along on the trip, Julius doubted if it would ever have been detected.

Damn Kirk! Always getting in the way, always acting so smug and superior with his “Starfleet does it this way” attitude. Well, I’ve got news for you, Uncle Jim. You’re not in Starfleet anymore. You’re out here, in the wilderness, all alone.

Julius groped for the cup of water on the bedside table and downed a large gulp. He badly wanted something alcoholic, but was smart enough to know that he’d drunk enough at dinner and would be feeling it if he didn’t switch to water.

Lying back down on the pillow, he thought about his childhood and Kirk’s part—or lack of a part—in it. Alex hadn’t lied to Kirk about their boyhood with the Pearsons, but he hadn’t told him everything, either. There had been no abuse, as far as it went. Neither foster parent had laid a hand on them. But they hadn’t needed to in order to break them sufficiently.

They left the boys alone almost all the time. They ignored Alex and Julius when they could, said sharp, cruel things to them when they couldn’t. Alex tried everything to get the Pearsons’ attention and love: taking good care of Julius, earning excellent grades, taking on odd jobs. Nothing worked. Julius’s tactics, which consisted of cutting classes, getting into trouble, and offering what Mrs. Pearson called “sassy backtalk” did get attention, but the wrong kind.

Alex had made the meals and told Julius bedtime stories. Alex had protected him from the bullies, and helped him with his homework. Alex had listened with a loving smile when Julius went through agonies about which little girl liked him and which didn’t. Alex was the sun around which Julius revolved.

And every now and then, their Uncle Jim would show up. He was a kindly, but distant presence. He often brought gifts that served only to show how little he knew what his nephews were interested in. Julius hated him, because he knew—he knew—that life with Uncle Jim raising them would be sweeter and happier than life with the Pearsons, and Uncle Jim never offered to take them away and care for them.

Alexander had a forgiving nature, and he never blamed Uncle Jim for not saving them. He’s a starship captain, Juley. They can’t have kids on starships.

But Julius never forgot, nor forgave. And now Uncle Jim was here. Damn the Falorians! Why had they made that the deal-breaker?

He’d done everything they wanted. Even served some time in a pretty bad alien prison getting the things they had asked for. A few times, he’d try to talk to other species about colonies, but those were all dead ends.

He reached for the water again. He was getting the shakes just thinking about some of the places he’d been. Places he had willingly gone into for Alex’s sake, places that Alex would have died rather than have Julius enter.

Gunrunner. Though the weapons to which the name referred were obsolete, the name had stuck through the centuries. It had sounded exciting, romantic, and as far away from anything the Pearsons represented as it was possible to get. And at first, it had been fun.

Why the hell had he gotten involved with the Orion Syndicate? The answer came back, because they were the only ones who could get me what I wanted—a colony for Alexander. Looking back on it, he could see each step down that dark path had led him to the next, and the next. He couldn’t believe he was now trading in illegal weapons and information when the goal had been to found a colony of peace and technology.

God, if Alex ever found out. …

Julius reached again for the water and this time knocked it over. He swore, grabbed a towel, and began mopping it up. He realized he was shaking.

He kept replaying the conversation he’d had with Lissan today. What the hell is going on? he had demanded, forcing a smile so false his mouth hurt. My brother almost got killed today! And what kind of facility is really going up? You said nothing about that!

Lissan had looked at him with those large, cold eyes, devoid of any emotion save perhaps a flicker of amusement. The danger to which your brother was exposed was not intended.

It damn well better not have been. I won’t budge on that. No harm comes to Alex, and he never knows about us. He was not the best of liars and he knew it, and it was a real struggle to appear to be having a pleasant chat with this alien when he really wanted to rip his throat out. But the appearance must be maintained. …

What is going on with this facility?

Lissan had smiled. The less you know, the better.

Julius swore an old, ugly Anglo-Saxon word. I got you everything you wanted. Weapons. Information. Technology. Even Kirk, damn it. I gave my own uncle to you. I have to know what’s going on.

Lissan’s unpleasant smile had widened. No you don’t, Julius. No you don’t.

And Lissan had stepped away, ending the conversation. Julius had stared. To follow him and pursue it would have tipped Kirk off. Alex, bless him, wouldn’t have noticed, but Kirk would. Kirk would.

Julius didn’t know what this mysterious facility was really for, but from what he knew of the Falorians and their goals, he knew its purpose wouldn’t be that of innocently catering to trading vessels.

He had finally thought himself safe for the first time in his life. Safe and sound at last, on Sanctuary, with his brother. He’d sold his soul to pursue Alex’s dream for him, and damn it, that ought to have been enough.

But it wasn’t.

Julius Kirk didn’t fall asleep until the small hours of the morning, and when he did, he dreamed of Alexander looking at him with sorrowful disillusionment in his eyes just before a cackling Lissan, firing the very weapons Julius had obtained for him, killed them both.