“Aye,” Mr. Scott agreed. “There are radiation burns, microfractures in the hull, fused circuits, even traces of extreme phase changes on the quantum level.” He whistled at the extent of the damage. “This thing was built to last, you can tell that even now, but it’s taken a heap of punishment over who knows how long. We’re talking a couple of level-twelve ion storms at the very least, disruptor fire, solar flares, maybe even a brush with a black star or two.”
“I see.”
Spock did not find the engineer’s report encouraging. He had hoped that the combined efforts of Mr. Scott and Qat Zaldana would yield some insights into the probe’s mission and origins, as well as some clue to its connection to the current crisis.
“Did you learn anything of use?” he inquired.
“Not really,” Qat Zaldana confessed. “To be honest, even if its internal workings were still intact, I’m not sure I’d be able to make head or tail of it. I’m no engineer like Mr. Scott here, but even I can tell that we’re dealing with technology that’s way beyond anything the Federation or its peers have come up with yet.” A rueful chuckle escaped her veil. “I feel like a medieval astrologer trying to make sense of a crashed Romulan bird-of-prey that was burned to a crisp on its way down.”
Spock sympathized with the challenge. He was tempted to examine the probe himself but doubted that he would find anything that Qat Zaldana or Mr. Scott had missed. Perhaps later, he mused, when the time comes to investigate the captain’s fate. At the moment, however, he had more pressing matters to attend to.
“We can take the bloody thing apart piece by piece,” Mr. Scott volunteered, “but I canna guarantee it will do any good. Not in time to help those poor souls on Skagway, at any rate.”
Spock nodded. “Very well. It appears that the probe will not provide an answer to our present dilemma. Let us put it aside for future study while we prepare the Enterprise to take on as many evacuees as possible. Mr. Scott, please see to it that all available cargo areas and recreational facilities are converted to temporary living quarters and that the ship’s life-support capabilities are operating at peak efficiency. We have a long way to go and a good many refugees to accommodate.”
The nearest starbase was more than three weeks away. Spock mentally calculated how many extra passengers the ship could support for that period of time, depending on various controllable factors. The numbers were not encouraging.
“What about the others?” Qat Zaldana asked. “The ones you can’t evacuate?”
“The Enterprise will remain to protect the colony for as long as it endures,” he promised her. “You, of course, are welcome to remain aboard until we reach a safer harbor.”
“Thank you,” she said somberly, “but I’ll have to think about that. It’s a hard decision, like being a passenger on the Titanic or the Solar Queen. Do you take a spot in the lifeboats or not? And if you do, how do you live with yourself afterward?”
“That is an emotional question. I cannot help you answer it,” Spock said. “I can only say that it would be a great loss if your intellect and scientific expertise were not preserved.”
“That’s nice of you to say, Mr. Spock, but . . . let me think about it. I’ll give you my answer when the time comes.”
Spock respected her wishes. There was still time, although not as much as he would have preferred. They now had twenty hours before Skagway entered the inner rings; he hoped to have all of the evacuees aboard by then. He wondered briefly what he would do in her place. Would it be logical to sacrifice himself to save another?
Possibly, depending on the circumstances. He had faced that choice before, as when he and Kirk and McCoy had been subjected to the Vians’ experiments in the Minervan system or when he had piloted a shuttle into the nucleus of a destructive space amoeba, but those had been matters of duty to the ship and his fellow officers. The needs of the many had outweighed the needs of the one. That did not necessarily apply in the case of Qat Zaldana and her fellow colonists.
He could only hope that she would choose to save herself.
Eighteen
2020
“Okay. It’s decided, then. We’re going home.”
Less than twenty-four hours after the fire, Kirk presided over a meeting on the flight deck. The mid-deck below had been meticulously scrubbed, but a smoky odor still wafted up from the scorched wreckage. Kirk and Fontana were strapped into the pilots’ seats, while O’Herlihy drifted restlessly around the compartment. Zoe was locked up in the airlock at the other end of the ship. Kirk hoped she was comfortable. He still wasn’t convinced that she was responsible for the fire.
“No surprise there,” Fontana said. “We probably should have turned back days ago.”
The nearly catastrophic fire had been the last straw as far as Houston was concerned. The decision had been made to cut the mission short, seven days early, and head back to Earth. Mission Control had already worked out a new flight plan, which had been uploaded to the ship’s computers. Granted, Earth was still three months away, but Houston wanted the ship back as soon as possible, before anything else could go wrong. From what Kirk gathered, NASA was still working overtime to keep all of the unexpected complications out of the press.
No wonder I’ve never heard of them, he thought. It was all covered up.
“The hell with that!” O’Herlihy swore. “It’s not fair! We haven’t finished our studies yet. What with all the commotion, we’ve barely even begun our surveys of Saturn’s magnetosphere, not to mention Titan and Enceladus and the other moons.” He turned toward the pilots, frustration written all over his face. “Are we sure we can’t get NASA to reconsider? Even with the loss of all that equipment in the mid-deck, there is still plenty to be done out here. Just think of all we could accomplish if we complete our mission!”
Kirk sympathized with the scientist’s disappointment. This had been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for him. “I know how you feel, Marcus, but we’ve taken an important first step here. Future missions will carry on in our footsteps, count on it.”
He wished he could tell the other man that this was hardly the end of humanity’s exploration of Saturn and its moons and that someday there would be thriving colonies out this way. Kirk had recently spent an enjoyable layover on Titan during his most recent visit to Earth. The outer solar system was home to millions of intelligent beings in his time, not all of them human. The historic voyage of the Lewis & Clark had been just the beginning.
Fontana stared at him. “You’re taking this pretty philosophically,” she said. “Frankly, I expected you to make more of a fuss, instead of waxing eloquent about the future like this.” Her eyes narrowed. “It’s not like you.”
Kirk winced inwardly. Not for the first time, he wished that she hadn’t known the real Shaun Christopher quite so intimately. It wasn’t making his imposture any easier.
“Look, I’m not happy about this, either, but I can see Houston’s point of view.” He ticked off the reasons on his fingers. “The stowaway, the alien probe, the unexpected changes in Saturn’s rings and weather patterns, the fire, the possibility of arson. I can’t blame them for wanting to play it safe and cut their losses. If I was in charge, I’d probably feel the same way.”
In truth, he had profoundly mixed feelings about NASA’s decision. While this mission was definitely proving more perilous than anyone could have possibly anticipated, he was in no hurry to be reunited with Shaun’s friends and family. Trying to fool just his fellow astronauts, and especially Fontana, had been tricky enough. How on Earth, literally, was he going to face Shaun’s kids? Not to mention John Christopher.
What if Shaun’s father recognizes me somehow?
“I suppose.” Fontana sounded skeptical. “Well, if nothing else, I guess you’ll be back in time for Rory’s birthday.”
He took her word for it. “Yes, that’s a definite plus,” he said, pretending to be excited by the prospect. Changing the subject, he tried to console O’Herlihy. “Look at it this way,
Doctor. You’re going to get to see your wife and daughter a week early.”
“Yes, that’s true enough,” O’Herlihy said, rather less enthusiastically than one might expect. The man’s muted reaction struck Kirk as out of character; he chalked it up to the scientist’s understandable disappointment at not being allowed to complete his work. “It’s just such a waste,” O’Herlihy lamented. “Three months in transit, and all those years of planning and preparation, only to turn back early?” He slammed a fist into his palm. “What difference could a few more days make?”
Kirk couldn’t remember ever seeing O’Herlihy so agitated. He wondered if the stress of this tumultuous voyage was finally getting to the man. Perhaps it was just as well that they were calling the mission short.
“I’m sorry, Doctor,” he said firmly. “The decision is final.”
He turned his chair toward the navigation controls in order to review their new flight plans. NASA had needed to make adjustments to allow for the changing positions of both the ship and Earth. The impulse engines could make up the difference once they were under way.
Fontana unstrapped herself from her seat and came up behind him. For a second, Kirk feared another romantic overture, but he realized that was unlikely with O’Herlihy present. Still, it was also unlikely that he could avoid being alone with her for the next three months. He wondered how long he could resist her and if he really wanted to.
At times like this, a warp drive could come in handy.
“What about you?” he asked her casually. “You looking forward to seeing your dog again?” He was not about to mistake her pet for a child again. “I imagine Gus will give you quite the tail-wagging welcome when you get back.”
“Well done,” she said acidly. “You got his name right.”
An edge to her voice tipped him off that something was wrong, but he was still caught off-guard when she spun his chair away from the controls and locked her elbow around his neck, catching him in a choke hold. Gasping, he grabbed her arm and tried to tug it away from his throat. Despite months in zero gravity, her grip was formidably strong. Had she been working out that much, or had they both lost equal amounts of muscle tone?
“Don’t even think about touching those controls, mister!” she growled. “I don’t know who you are, but you are not Shaun Geoffrey Christopher!”
“Alice!” O’Herlihy reacted in shock. “What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?”
“This isn’t Shaun!” she insisted. “I know it sounds insane, but you’ve got to believe me!” Her legs floated in the air as she anchored herself to Kirk’s neck, squeezing hard. “Rory’s birthday is tomorrow. The real Shaun would know that!”
O’Herlihy hovered impotently, confused by Fontana’s accusations. “Shaun?”
Kirk realized that his cover was blown, unless he could convince O’Herlihy that Fontana was mistaken. He stopped struggling, reasoning that the real Shaun would want to talk to his crew, not fight them.
“Listen to me,” he wheezed, despite the pressure on his windpipe. “You’ve got this all wrong. I’m not an impostor!”
“Oh, yeah?” she taunted him. “Then tell me something only the real Shaun would know. Where was the first place we made love?”
Kirk had no idea. “Your place?”
“Nice try,” she said bitterly. She didn’t volunteer the correct answer, not that it mattered. Hurt and anger spilled from her voice. Obviously, she didn’t care who knew about their history now. “That probe did something to his brain, Marcus. That’s when this all started. I didn’t want to believe it, but . . .” She tightened her painful hold on his throat. “Who are you, and what did you do to Shaun?”
He wished he could tell her. She deserved the truth, but there was too much at stake. He couldn’t risk changing history by telling her the truth. Her broken heart was the price for preserving the future.
“My memory,” he squeaked. “I lost my memory, that’s all. I didn’t want you to know—”
“Bullshit!” She yanked his head back. “You’re not Shaun. You’re someone else!”
“Stop it, Alice!” O’Herlihy flew toward them. “You’re choking him!”
“Tough!” She loosened her grip slightly, just enough for Kirk to breathe. “Trust me, Marcus. We’re not talking mere amnesia here. Get me some restraints.”
O’Herlihy hesitated, clearly not sure what or whom to believe, despite Kirk’s obvious lapses in memory. “Talk to me, Shaun. Tell me she’s wrong.”
“I’m sorry, Doctor,” Kirk said, panting. “I should have told you the truth about the holes in my memory, but I was afraid you’d relieve me of command.”
“Liar!” Fontana said. “Don’t listen to him, Marcus. You must have noticed the change in him, too. You know Shaun. Is this him?”
“I don’t know.” The doctor wavered, trying to keep up. “What are you suggesting? Some manner of alien mind control?”
“You got a better explanation?” She appealed to the other man. “We can’t trust him, Marcus. That probe did something to him. Even if you don’t believe he’s someone else, you have to realize he’s not right in the head. He’s been lying to us for days. Hell, for all we know, he started the fire!”
“Not Zoe?”
“If only!” Fontana said. “God, do I wish I could lay this all on her, but I can’t!”
Kirk spied her reflection in the cockpit window. Her eyes gleamed wetly. “No,” he said hoarsely. “I was with you when the fire started, remember?”
“Big deal. You could have set a fuse or added some sort of slow-acting reactant to the chemical slurry.” She choked back a sob. “The restraints, Marcus? Please!”
“All right.” He surrendered. “Give me a minute.”
On a vessel where loose objects and utensils tended to drift freely unless tied down, there was no shortage of bungee cords and Velcro straps on hand. Under Fontana’s watchful gaze, the doctor bound Kirk’s wrists and ankles together, then undid the straps binding him to the pilot’s seat. Kirk did not put up a fight. This wasn’t like being taken prisoner by the Klingons or the Romulans. Fontana wasn’t wrong; he was an impostor who didn’t belong there. She was just doing her duty. And even if he could overpower the two astronauts somehow, what then? He could hardly hijack a historic NASA space mission!
At the moment, all he could do was keep his mouth closed and hope for the best.
Where are you, Spock? I could use a hand here.
Fontana yanked him roughly away from the flight controls and propelled him across the flight deck like a weightless sack of potatoes. He slammed into a hard steel bulkhead at the rear of the compartment. Dazed, he winced as she tethered him tightly to a ladder leading down to the mid-deck.
“No need to be so rough,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You bet you’re not.” She pushed back to inspect her work. “So, you ready to talk yet?”
“I’m not sure what else I can say. You seem to have made up your mind . . . unfortunately.”
“Don’t make this about me. You’re the guilty party here.”
Kirk tried his restraints. There was no give in them. Fontana had known what she was doing.
“I know you think you’re doing the right thing,” he said. “I respect that.”
“Screw your respect!” She yanked John Christopher’s dog tags from his neck, snapping the chain. “You don’t deserve to wear these!” She clenched her fist around the tags. “God, when I think that I almost . . .” She couldn’t bring herself to complete the sentence.
“I told you it was complicated,” he said.
O’Herlihy cleared his throat. “What now?” he asked, sounding defeated. “What are we to do with him?”
“Throw him in the airlock with the other trespasser, what else?” She chuckled bitterly. “You’ll like that, won’t you? I’ve seen the way you look at her, ever since the probe. That was another giveaway, incidentally. Shaun wasn’t interested in her that way, but you were. I could te
ll. And then, of course, things were different between us.”
Hell hath no fury like an astronaut scorned, Kirk thought wryly. He should have known the messy love triangle would blow his cover. No doubt Spock would have something pithy to say about the folly of human emotions.
“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
“Well, it’s too damn late for that, isn’t it?”
She unhooked him from the ladder and shoved him toward the hatch. “Come on, Marcus. Help me get him to the brig. I want this bastard out of my sight!”
Kirk couldn’t blame her one bit. The whole situation was spiraling out of control, not unlike Saturn’s rings had been. Now he was looking at three months of captivity while he tried to figure out what to do next and worried about his real ship, somewhere far in the future.
If I never get stuck in the past again, it will be too soon!
Nineteen
2270
“I want to say you look like your father,” McCoy commented, “but I guess that’s not really the case.”
“Tell me about it,” Shaun said. His fingers explored the unfamiliar contours of Captain Kirk’s face. It was like a sore he couldn’t stop picking at. He supposed he ought to be thrilled to have a newer, younger body, but he didn’t feel that way. He wanted his old body back, and he wanted out of this so-called sickbay. He paced back and forth across the futuristic hospital room. It felt strange not to be floating. “I still can’t believe you actually met my dad.”
“Time travel.” The doctor snorted. “Don’t get me started.”
Shaun wasn’t sure how McCoy could be so blasé about it. Personally, he was still trying to get used to the idea that he was really hundreds of years in the future and in another man’s body, no less. Not that his hosts had actually let him see much of that future. He had been confined to quarantine for what felt like days.