from one another in classic formation, their shapes
flattened into graceful disks and grew limbs. Sound
caught in my throat. I choked it out.
"Captain, hold your fire! Starships!"
All eyes struck the viewer.
"Spock, confirm!" Kirk snapped.
Spock hung a receiver in his ear and fingered his
controls. He met the captain's disbelieving gaze.
"Confirmed, sir. Commodore of the Fleet Lyle Craig
aboard U.S.S. Hood--"
The captain burst to his feet.
264 265
Spock went on, his voice strong now. "Captain
Jarboe on the U.S.S. Yorktown... Captain Andreoni
on board Exeter, and Captain Long with the destroyer
Majestic. Commodore Craig suggests we sit back and
.. watch the nickelodeon." His brow rose over the
unfamiliar word.
But it wasn't unfamiliar to the captain. His face was
alight with triumph as we watched the starships move
in around us, and saw the sudden action of the sur-
prised Klingon cruisers. Kirk slapped the command
console with both hands and roared, "Advise they are
welcome, Mr. Spock!"
"With a capital 'well,'" I whispered. We made it
work, Scanner. Rest easy.
The United Federation of Planets dumped politics
on the floor and moved in as ff to a trumpet carillon.
Three Klingon battleships wheeled to meet four
Federation starships, and we could nearly taste the
surprise. From our Alert-darkened bridge, we
watched as the starships took on the battle cruisers
and the destroyer Majestic peeled off after the uniden-
tified ship that was still haunting us. Two of the
Klingon vessels suddenly moved in on Enterprise.
They were going to use us as a backdrop--a safety net.
Kirk saw it. His sharp words cut through my fasci-
nation with the screen. "Piper, take the helm! Plot a
course astern, z-minus thirty degrees. Lock and exe-
cute. Give them a clear field to open fire. Sarda, arm
photon torpedoes. Wide dispersal. Fire!"
I should have known he wouldn't just sit back and
watch the nickelodeon, whatever that was. Jim Kirk
would fire a bologna sandwich out the photon tubes if
he had to, but he'd do something.
Photons burst through inner space, blasting a
Klingon ship out of our way as Enterprise descended
gracefully out of the center of battle. The Klingon ship
pivoted away, its hull dazzling with crackles of energy,
and nearly collided with the nameless forked ship as
266
the latter reared away from our fire. We could nearly
taste their rage.
Cut free from us and roaring like teased animals, the
Klingon ship recovered and whirled around on an
imaginary axis, bringing its full disruptor banks to bear
on us. A bright glow opened on their firing ports, and
the bolt streaked toward our bare port hull. Instinc-
tively, we braced for an impact that would tear the
skin right off the ship.
But the cavalry was still here. From the top of our
viewer came a gleaming ivory disk, immense and
instantly blanking out the whole screen. Massive call
letters flashed by, black against the creamy plated hull,
and we heard the thunder of disruptor fire striking full
shields. Hood!
The other starship flooded past our viewer and was
gone almost as suddenly as she had appeared. She'd
taken the bolt on her own shields, leaving us intact to
move downward and out of the way. Now she was
turning on the Klingon who had attacked us, slicing
hard into the damage we'd done, redoubling it.
We descended into a clear spaceway. Hood and
Yorktown moved in over us, taking our place among
the clutter of ships. They opened fire. The Empire
cruisers cut away suddenly, swinging after each other
in retreat, and disappeared into light speed.
Exeter was chewing Romulan bones. By now, there
was nothing left of the Praetor's ships to return to his
distant Neutral Zone. Even the dangerous forked ship,
after firing three final shots on Yorktown and learning
what it was like to have a starship turn on it, turned on
a pointed hullfoil and streaked into open space. Majes-
tic wheeled after them, nipping at their heels.
"They did it!" I shouted. At least one foot left the
deck. From opposite sides of the bridge, Sarda and I
shared a penetrating gaze. His relief was plain. He
slumped back on the weapons control console, sur-
veyed the screen, and looked at me again. Against my
267
flight suit, I raised a thumb in silent tribute. Perhaps it
was the space between us, or the red dimness of the
bridge, but I thought he almost smiled.
Kirk rested a hand on his command chair, but said
nothing. That was all right; he didn't need to say
anything.
Spock was standing near communications, receiving
a message. "Sir, Hood is hailing us." His voice was
soft now with that charismatic smoothness that said
the danger was over and we had survived in high style.
"Commodore Craig reports this sector is clear. He and
Ambassador Shamirian are awaiting your reply."
Kirk's cheeks grew round with a repressed grin. He
pounced on the intercom. "Ben! You old sea gypsy.
You're late."
"Now, Jim, you know as well as I do what it takes to
round up four starships. Pardon my saying so, but
Enterprise looks a little ill around the mainmast."
"Don't worry about my ship," Jim Kirk countered,
pleased with himself. "We're still in one piece." "I never worry about you, Jim."
Another voice interrupted now. "Jim, this is Craig.
Don't ask me how you stayed in that one piece in the
middle of a scramble. I'm impressed right down to my
birthday suit."
"That's one I owe you, Lyle."
"Deduct it from the three I owe you. What else can
we do for you while we arrange to tow you to star-
base?"
"We have a medical emergency here," Kirk told
him. "We need as many medical personnel as you can
spare, a damage control team, and a skeleton crew
while my crew recuperates."
"You've got it. Patch me through to Leonard. I can
tie in my ship's surgeon and let them share details. No
sense in us captains horning in." "Thanks again, Lyle."
"Glad to help, Jim. Craig out."
268
The captain settled into his command chair and
surveyed the bridge before turning to Spock. "Mr.
Spock," he said, a definite lilt in his voice, "secure
from Red Alert. Patch our sickbay through to Hood."
"My pleasure, Captain." Another lilt, clear as bells.
The bridge lights came back on.
Within an hour we were under tow, this time toward
home territory. Yorktown and Hood were towing En-
terprise, and behind us, Majestic was towing Rex.
Exeter had stayed behind in the Ciatella Star System to
make sure the area was sec
ure. Starbase Four had
been alerted and was preparing its space dock to
accommodate a heavy cruiser. Breathing time.
And that's just about all I was doing breathing. And
gazing in disbelief at the beautiful starships ahead of us
as we rolled through open space. When Captain Kirk
appeared in my periphery, I hardly noticed.
"Everything all right, Commander?"
"Hm? Oh . . . yes, sir, of course. Everything's
fine," I said, trying to convince myself. I wasn't used
to this. I kept waiting for things to start going wrong
again. "Captain.. 2'
His eyes narrowed. "I thought so. What is it?"
"Sir... what's going to happen to Perren? I mean,
what do we do with a Vulcan? Lock him up and throw
away all that brilliance? He did help us..."
"Yes, and I'm sure the Judicial Committee at Star
Fleet Command will take that into consideration. I'm
going to submit a recommendation that he be re-
manded to the custody of his home planet. We'll let the
Vulcans decide. That's equitable, I think. Don't
you?"
This time I couldn't stop the nonregulation sigh of
relief. "Yes, sir, I sure do."
He stayed by me for a few minutes. Together we
watched the elegant starships as they towed us along.
Finally, he urged, "What else?"
269
I looked at him. He was watching me carefully, his
head at a slight angle. How did he always know?
But he did know. I made no more attempts to hide it.
I looked once again out into space. "That unidentified
ship..."
The captain nodded, and clasped his hands behind
his back. He thought about it for a moment before
answering. "A blemish on the art of war, Piper," he
told me. "You don't always get the comfort of know-
ing."
At least he understood. It made me feel better. The
sniggering doubt would always remain, but at least it
was a shared doubt. Now only one question remained.
"Sir, how did you get out of trouble at Starfleet
Command?"
He resisted a grin and tipped his hat. "Trouble is
only a minor annoyance when you've engineered it
yourself. And don't worry. The assault charges against
you were dropped due to extenuating circumstances."
"Before I ever laid a hand on those security people,
I'll bet."
Now he did smile. Then he said, "You'd win."
I shook my head and sighed. The captain watched
me passively.
"We've got a lot of cleaning up to do," he said. "Go
to your quarters and get some rest."
"My quarters, sir? But I thought--"
"You're still officially assigned to my command."
He paused then. "Banana Republic or not, Enterprise
is still your home ship."
Swelling in the compliment, I hardly knew what to
say anymore. I let my hips rest against the bridge rail
and, finally, I relaxed in his company. "I seem to be
thanking you a lot lately, sir."
A little shrug softened the soldier in him. "And we
don't thank you enough. It evens out. Go on. Get
some rest."
I flexed my shoulders. "Aye, sir. I will."
270
"Oh, and Piper--"
"Sir?"
"The Annual Atlantic Wind Ships Race is coming
up. I need crew. Interested?"
The deck of Enterprise felt as if it was surging on a
wave. "Just try setting sail without me," I said.
"Wouldn't think of it. Good night, Commander."
"Fair weather, Captain."
271
Chapter Thirteen
"A little suffering is good for the soul."
--The Corbomite Maneuver
SICKBAY WAS A ZOO. Several doctors, nurses, and
orderlies had beamed over from the three ships escort-
ing us and were preparing to beam back to their own
ships with groups of our ill crewpeople. All four sick-
bays were hard at work trying to ease the aftereffects
of the heavy drugging. Some people were on their feet.
Others were still unconscious. Many still hovered in
between. Sarda was here already, apparently for the
same reason that brought me here before following the
captain's suggestion to rest.
Scanner was one of those in-betweens still in bed,
but the light had returned to his eyes and the whip to
his tongue.
"Piper! You daughter of a snake. How are yawl?"
I tweeked the forefinger that waggled at me and said,
"You don't want to know. Are you all fight?"
"Naw, I died. I'm just here as an example of what
not to do."
Sarda offered a straighter answer. "Merete esti-
mates he will be duty-fit in a day." The sentence
sounded awkward until I realized I'd never heard him
call Merete anything but "Doctor." Sarda had
Scanner tugged at the lapel of my flight suit. "So
how's it gonna feel carryin' a rank of full Com-
mander?"
272
I backed off a step. "Oh, no, not again! Not a
chance, not a prayer! Maybe they'll promote you, but
they're not going to do that to me again, not for a long,
long, long time! I'll resign first!"
"Okay, okay... forget I mentioned it."
"You'd better forget you mentioned it, because ff
Star Fleet gets any bright ideas I'll know where they
came from."
"Hey, this is me forgettin'." He held his hands up in
surrender.
Luckily for him, a roll of laughter from a group of
recovering crewpeople distracted me from my reaction
to that unsavory idea. "What's going on over there?"
"Oh, nothin'," Scanner said. "Really nothin'."
I looked at Sarda. A Vulcan version of a shrug
tightened his shoulders. "Judd has evidently rigged
some holographs into the patients' lounge, to entertain
the crew as they recuperate. I have not as yet seen
them, but they seem to be efficacious."
"Are you telling me," I began, "that we actually
have a visual record of Scanner's idea of entertain-
ment? What is it, Scanner? Old Laurel and Hardy
tapes? Films of test flight crashes? What?"
"Ain't teHin' 2' Whether he wanted to tell or not, his
cheeks grew rosy.
"This I've got to see."
"Piper, it's dull, I'm telling you!"
"Sure. I know a setup when I see one. Come on,
Sarda."
We elbowed our way through the lump of crewpeo-
ple--easy, because most of them were still weak.
Laughter is the best medicine, Confucius or somebody
once said, and it showed in the blanched faces around
us as health slowly returned. When we got through to
the specially rigged holo platform, I saw why. I also
remembered that a certain Tyrannosaurus Rex lover
had been armed with a tricorder during a particularly
opportune moment.
273
The group rippled with laughter again, in time for me
to see a small holographic version of myself, engaged
in a vi
gorous dance. Veils whipped in and out of the
image periphery, as did a grasping Klingon hand from
below. Veils!
Sarda's voice was fuel on the fire. "Piper, I had no
idea you were so... athletic."
"Scanner!"
It took three strong orderlies, but eventually peace
reigned again and I was forced to accept my share of it.
In a ship still empty of most of its crew, I discovered
what quiet really meant. It was nice, for a change;
soothing. My quarters were the same as I had left
them Merete's bunk pleated and pin straight, mine a
little rumpled. I never could make a bed.
That didn't matter now anyway. I planned to add to
the rumples. I ordered all the lights off except the one
tiny courtesy bulb in the head. Darkness folded
around me, welcome as a warm cloak, and my head
felt like an iron ball when it hit the pillow.
One deep breath to usher me into sleep---and the
door buzzer sounded.
Ease off, guys, I'm under orders to sleep.
My voice triggered the door. "Come."
The doorway was dark, and as the panel opened,
bland corridor light molded around a stock authority.
"Commander Piper..."
I struggled into a sitting position. "Oh---Mr. Scott.
Come in, please."
Still silhouetted, he moved into my lightless quar-
ters. "Lassie... I'd like a worrrd wi' you."