STAR TREK - TOS - 83 - Heart of the Sun

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“FIRE AGAIN,” CAPTAIN JAMES T.

KIRK COMMANDED ...

... raising his voice. “Hold for two minutes this time.” Again the beam lashed the alien, and again it

winked out, leaving no sign of an opening, no sign of damage. If full power from the ship’s phasers was

having so little effect, then photon torpedoes might not do any better. The alien would not be easily

destroyed.

As Spock’s voice broke the silence that followed, it seemed to Kirk that the first officer’s baritone

almost echoed through the corridors of the alien vessel. “You must fire photon torpedoes within the next

hour to have any hope of diverting the object’s course ... or of destroying it in time.”

The Vulcan might be pronouncing his own death sentence. ...

POCKET BOOKS

New York London Toronto Sydney Tokyo Singapore

The sale of this book without its cover is unauthorized. If you purchased this book without a cover, you

should be aware that it was reported to the publisher as “unsold and destroyed.” Neither the author nor

the publisher has received payment for the sale of this “stripped book.”

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the authors’

imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or

dead, is entirely coincidental.

AnOriginal Publication of POCKET BOOKS

POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New

York, NY 10020

STAR TREK is a Registered Trademark of Paramount Pictures.

This book is published by Pocket Books, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc., under exclusive license

from Paramount Pictures.

For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

ISBN: 0-671-00237-6

First Pocket Books printing November 1997

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster Inc.

Printed in the U.S.A.

To our friend, Ted Brock,

who learned from everyone

but always knew how to watchStar Trek

Contents

Chapter One.8

Chapter Two.12

Chapter Three.20

Chapter Four28

Chapter Five.30

Chapter Six.37

Chapter Seven.40

Chapter Eight44

Chapter Nine.50

Chapter Ten.56

Chapter Eleven.60

Chapter Twelve.63

Chapter Thirteen.66

Chapter Fourteen.72

Chapter Fifteen.74

Chapter Sixteen.80

About the Authors.85

About the e-Book.86

We may choose something like a star

To stay our minds on and be staid.

—Robert Frost

Chapter One

“RIGHT HERE—” Commander Spock said as he pointed to the flashing dot on the sector display,

“—in the cometary ring of this solar system, there is an object that does not belong.”

He paused, as if for dramatic effect, though Kirk knew that his science officer was above such gestures.

Spock continued. “It is clearly artificial, Captain, a fact confirmed by its heat signature, which is

increasing too precisely for a natural source.”

“Could it be Romulan?” Kirk asked. They were close enough to the Neutral Zone between Federation

space and the Romulan Empire for that to be possible.

“Unlikely, Captain. Our first indications were that it was a planetary body that had long been part[2]of

the ring. Our records show it has been there for some time. There is no evidence to suggest the Romulans

would have intruded so far into this sector.”

Kirk looked at his friend, and for a moment shared with him the rush of discovery that was curiosity’s

reward. But the moment passed, and he said, “Unfortunately, we can’t even think of investigating that

object until after we complete our mission on Tyrtaeus II.”

“Understood,” Spock replied, peering at the display, and for an instant, James Kirk remembered when

he had once thought that he would never really know the Vulcan as he knew Leonard McCoy,

Montgomery Scott, Uhura, or the other members of his crew. Once, he had believed that Spock would

always be a stranger, as he was to most human beings. Kirk had wondered if the distance between them

might widen into a gulf.

But he had learned to see through Spock’s inscrutability, just as he could gaze into Lieutenant Uhura’s

dark eyes and see if some private, unspoken concern was worrying her, and know from the cheerful,

enthusiastic look on Hikaru Sulu’s face that the helmsman was about to launch into a discussion of his

latest hobby. Spock’s raising of his eyebrow when confronted with yet another example of human

foolishness betrayed not only his wonderment at human irrationality, but also his amusement at such

illogical behavior. Spock had a[3]good sense of humor—for a Vulcan, Kirk mused. Of course, his stoic

friend would never acknowledge that openly.

The composed but intent expression on Spock’s face now told Kirk that his science officer was

extremely curious about the unknown object on the display.

“Investigating that object,” Kirk said as he gestured at the sensor display screen above Spock’s

computer, “would be a lot more interesting than this mission’s likely to be. At least we’ll have something

to look forward to after we’re done on Tyrtaeus II, right, Spock?”

Spock was silent. Kirk suppressed a grin. The Vulcan would sooner die than admit how eager he was to

get the diplomacy out of the way, so that the crew could move onto what they did best: exploring the

unknown.

Occasionally Kirk could grasp his comrade’s unspoken thoughts only as one would observe icebergs

floating down from their calving waters in Earth’s polar regions, seeing only the small portion that showed

above the surface while sensing the leviathan hidden below.

“I’m picking up a message from Tyrtaeus II,” Lieutenant Uhura said, interrupting Kirk’s reflections. “It’s

exactly the same as the one we picked up earlier.” She frowned, then recited the message. “ ‘We look

forward to restoration of our data base soon—Myra Coles.’ ”

No salutation, Kirk thought, no niceties of[4]expression, no hint that the Tyrtaeans might be grateful for

any aid the crew of theEnterprise could give them.

Myra Coles, the computer had informed him, was one of the two elected leaders on Tyrtaeus II,

although she had no title. Tyrtaeans, according to Federation records, did not bother with titles.

“There seems little need,” Spock murmured, “to send the same message twice, especially since we

acknowledged the earlier one.”

“I think,” Kirk said, “that they just want to remind us of how annoyed they are about this whole

business, but without engaging in any unseemly displays of emotion. You have to admit that their earlier

messages were masterpieces of a sort. I wouldn’t have thought it possible to express so much anger and

bad feeling in so few words, and so simply.”

Spock lifted a brow. “The Tyrtaeans have a reputation for practicality. They would not have wanted to

waste either our time or their own with a long message.”

“Yet they’ll waste time by sending it twice,” Uhura murmured.

Spock glanced toward the communications officer. “They are human, Lieutenant, the descendants of

settlers from Earth. That is undoubtedly enough to account for any apparent contradictions in their

behavior.”

Ouch,Kirk thought.If I were in a pettier mood I could remind him that guessing games are illogical

.[5]But Vulcan guesses were pretty reliable, he reasoned. Especially Spock’s guesses. Maybe it was the

human in Spock that made him capable of his often brilliant intuitive leaps.

In any case, Kirk reminded himself that the triumph of Vulcan rationality had not been complete; traces

of Vulcan’s violent past could still be found in such customs as thekoon-ut-kal-if-fee, or in thekahs-wan

survival ordeal. Still, the Vulcans could be admired for the stability they had achieved, given the ferocity

of their early culture. The Vulcans, unlike the Klingons—and unlike some human beings, Kirk reluctantly

admitted to himself—had come to understand that violence was not something to glorify and celebrate.

That was the way of the galaxy’s intelligent life-forms; a net gain here and there, with the evolutionary

legacy still in control, a dead hand guiding intelligences that were not yet ready to remake themselves and

to be responsible for everything.

Kirk smiled inwardly. Spock himself had once said something much like that to him, in almost the same

words. The Vulcan was not as naive as he sometimes seemed, and occasionally some warmth could be

glimpsed in his usually impassive face. Naiveté was his way of keeping an open mind.

Spock exhaled softly, almost sounding as if he were sighing with exasperation, unlikely as that was. Kirk

suspected that his science officer had even less enthusiasm for this routine mission than he did.

[6]They were on their way to Tyrtaeus II to restore that planet’s data base because of an unfortunate

accident. During a routine update of the data bases of a few colony worlds, some Federation technicians

had accidentally downloaded an old, long-hidden, and undetected virus along with the revised data. The

virus had destroyed not only five planetary data bases but also the programs that ran the subspace

communications systems of those worlds; new data bases could not be downloaded until the subspace

systems were repaired on site.

TheEnterprise had been going from one star system to another, repairing the subspace communications

systems of each affected colony, then overseeing a new download from the Federation’s database on

Earth. That, Kirk thought, had been the easy part of a fairly tedious mission, which would at last be

concluded on Tyrtaeus II.

The hard part was restoring the local history and recorded culture of each world, since that would have

to come from other sources. Fragile and perishable documents had to be located, history and folklore

rewritten and rerecorded, literature and poetry rediscovered and reproduced. After completing the

straightforward work of repairs and downloads, all that Kirk and his personnel could offer was a certain

amount of detective work. Some data could be recovered from the repaired data base and retrieval

systems, but people trained in archaeology, historiography, and anthropology would have to ferret out the

rest. The restoration[7]would require a number of searches, and they had to face the possibility that some

data might be permanently lost.

Spock had a theory, which he had been testing as often as practical, that the virus had not destroyed all

of the data, but had merely “hidden” at least some of it. If he was even partially right, Kirk knew that a lot

of hard work in search of physical records could be avoided.

The people on the four worlds that theEnterprise had already visited had been understandably irritated,

even angry about the damage to their data bases. Kirk recalled how distressed the Lurissan Guides, the

governing body of Cynur IV, had been when he had first met with them. The people of Cynur IV had a

reputation as some of the warmest and most hospitable beings in the Federation; but the Cynurians Kirk

had encountered had taken every opportunity to gripe and rail against the Federation for its carelessness;

their hospitality had been grudging at best. He had no reason to expect the Tyrtaeans to be any more

amenable, especially when they learned that perhaps not everything in their data base could be restored.

They also, Kirk reminded himself, had other reasons for not welcoming Starfleet personnel. Unlike the

other four affected worlds, the Tyrtaeans had joined the Federation grudgingly. Their ancestors had left

Earth a century ago; the Federation was a reminder of the world they had sought to escape.

[8]Spock was still studying the strange object on the sensor screen.

“It’s ironic,” Kirk said. “The people of Tyrtaeus II pride themselves on withstanding adversity with

forbearance. They scorn luxury, and think public displays of strong emotion are offensive. They have the

reputation of being one of the more stoic and severe people in the galaxy. Now they are faced with a

threat to their most ethereal artifact—their recorded culture. And that part of their civilization—the least

practical and most unnecessary part—that is what they have complained about most keenly.”

“I do not find that ironic, Captain,” Spock said without turning from the screen. “What is most necessary

for any being, all other things being given, is to maintain its identity, which is also essential to any culture.

Irony, as I understand it, seems a superficial interpretation of the situation in this case. Least practical and

most unnecessary is not how their loss should be described. What would you have the Tyrtaeans

conclude? That they can do without what is apparently lost?”

Kirk considered for a moment. “You’re right, of course. They might complain a bit less, though.” He

leaned closer to Spock to view the screen, where the heat signature of the mysterious object was still

increasing. “We’ll have to find out what that is,” he added, “as soon as we’ve finished our job on

Tyrtaeus II.”

Spock nodded, as if approving of his curiosity,[9]then said, “I trust that it will be enough for the

Tyrtaeans to learn that less was lost than they feared. It is fortunate that they overcame their reluctance

and downloaded much of their data base in recent cultural exchanges. We will be able to restore all of

what they downloaded at that time.”

“Some of them won’t be satisfied, Spock. Much of their cultural identity, as you say, was in those

records.”

“Kind of an insular culture,” Uhura murmured, “from what the records indicate.”

“No more so than those of some other colonies,” Kirk said.

“But the Earth folk who came here wanted to be left entirely alone,” Uhura continued. “According to our

records, their admiration of self-reliance is so extreme that they seem to avoid any activity that might

tempt them into dependence. They have less to do with other worlds than any other culture I can think

of.”

Kirk straightened. “We have to respect any colony’s insularity, Lieutenant. Uniqueness can be

inconvenient in the short run, but the Federation has to respect it if we’re to have reliable cultural partners

in future times. As Mr. Spock said, a culture’s identity is essential, and must not be threatened.”

“Quite right, Captain,” Spock said, in what some would have regarded as a slightly patronizing tone;

Kirk took the comment for what it was, a simple statement of fact. Spock was, he supposed, a[10]

superior being in a way. But not so much as to sever all bonds of sympathy with his comrades. Spock

might strain those bonds of kinship, but they would never break.

As Captain Kirk turned away from the sensor display and resumed his post at his command station,

Spock heard Lieutenant Kevin Riley say, “Entering standard orbit around Tyrtaeus II, Captain.” Kirk

nodded at the navigator, then waited for Lieutenant Sulu, who was seated at the helmsman’s station on

Riley’s left, to confirm.

Spock gave only part of his attention to the routine activity on the bridge; he was looking back to his

computer display screen as often as possible, where the heat signature of the unknown object was still

increasing, telling him that the mysterious device was generating large amounts of energy.

“Standard orbit achieved,” Hikaru Sulu announced from his forward station.

The bridge was oddly silent for a moment, Spock noticed.

“Mr. Spock,” the captain continued, “are you with us?”

Spock was turning away from the screen when he saw a change on the long-range sensor scan. “Just a

moment, sir,” he murmured, leaning toward the screen again.

There was no doubt about it; the strange object had changed course.

“Captain,” Spock said, “the unknown object I[11]have been observing has changed its orbit. It is now

moving sunward, on what is clearly a collision course with the star.”

“What?” Kirk said as he turned in his chair. “Then it definitely isn’t a natural object.”

“This is further confirmation that it is not natural.”

Kirk frowned. “Lieutenant Uhura,” he said, “open a hailing frequency to Tyrtaeus II.”

“Hailing frequency open,” Uhura announced.

The head and shoulders of a man appeared on the large bridge viewing screen. The man’s face was lean

and fine-featured, framed by short, dark hair. What Spock could see of his brown shirt was plain and

unadorned. The man narrowed his eyes slightly, and his mouth twitched a little before he spoke.

“Aristocles Marcelli,” the man said in a strained tone that Spock recognized as that of someone

struggling to control his rage.

Kirk slowly got to his feet. “Aristocles Marcelli,” the man said again in his flat voice, and Kirk quickly

understood that the Tyrtaean was telling him his name.

“Captain James T. Kirk of theEnterprise ,” Kirk responded. “We’re here to ...”

“I know what you’re here for.” Aristocles Marcelli sounded merely irritated this time.

“Sir, we ...”

“We don’t hold with titles here, Kirk, even ones[12]like ‘sir’ or ‘mister.’ Call me Marcelli, or even

Aristocles, if you like.”

No greeting, no polite commonplaces, no attempt at even a semblance of warmth or courtesy. There

was plain speaking, and there was rudeness; this man didn’t seem to grasp the distinction.

“I trust that you’ll be quick in replacing our loss,” the Tyrtaean continued.

Kirk felt like a junior engineer reporting for nacelle cleaning duty. “We’ll do our best—Marcelli.”

“That kind of answer always sounds like an excuse in the making, Kirk. You don’t anticipate any

problems, do you?”

“We don’t anticipate any problems beyond the ones we can reasonably anticipate,” Kirk said.

“In other words, you’re expecting some problems—just not any new problems.”

The Tyrtaean seemed to be doing his best to be annoying, which did not seem consistent with the

stoicism these people allegedly practiced. Kirk reminded himself that the reputedly friendly people of

Cynur IV had only begun to warm to his personnel just before theEnterprise was to leave their system,

and that all of the affected colonies had deeply resented the loss of their data bases. There had been no

available target for their resentment other than the personnel of theEnterprise. Once again, Kirk decided

to make allowances.

“As you well know,” Kirk said, “we can’t overcome the lack of physical backups. If you have lost[13]

certain kinds of data, we can’t recreate that information from nothing. There has to be—”

“And who put us into this situation?”

Kirk kept his composure, although it was becoming more of an effort after dealing with the reproaches

of four resentful worlds. “We’ll do the best we can. I can promise you that, Marcelli. But we can’t work

miracles.”

“Captain,” Spock said, coming forward to face the viewscreen, “may I make a suggestion?”

Kirk glanced at him. “Of course.” He motioned to Spock. “This is Commander Spock, my science

officer and second-in-command of theEnterprise .”

Marcelli’s brows shot up. “A Vulcan! Maybe now we’ll get somewhere.”

Kirk tried hard not to look annoyed.

“I do not wish to offer false hope,” Spock said. “I merely wish to recommend that you do not give up on

the physical presence of certain kinds of data. Such data may still exist in unexpected places on your

world. For example, the inhabitants of Emben III were certain that several of their most highly prized

narratives were lost. Records dating back to their earliest settlers were thought to have existed only in

their damaged planetary database.”

“Really,” Marcelli said, sounding either skeptical or disappointed, it seemed to Kirk.

“He was practicing his calligraphy,” Spock went on, “and preferred to do so while copying out old

narratives by hand. So, whatever you have lost may[14]still exist on your world, and possibly elsewhere,

in surprising places. And I also suspect—”

“Tyrtaeans wouldn’t waste time copying down old stories by hand,” Marcelli muttered.

“And on Cynur IV,” Kirk said, “a few people were quite upset at losing some poetry by one of their

minor poets. As it happened, records of those poems had gone to the New Paris colonies as part of a

cultural exchange. They were found in the personal library of a scholar who detested that particular poet

and was in the middle of writing a devastating analysis of his poetry for a literary journal.”

Aristocles Marcelli stared out coldly from the screen.

“In other words,” Spock said, “do not limit your search only to the most logical places.”

“A good thought, Spock,” Marcelli said, and Kirk wondered if that comment might be a veiled insult to

himself. Tyrtaeans might be stoic, but they were also apparently touchy. “I look forward to meeting you.”

The Tyrtaean did not sound as though he was including Kirk in that attempt at courtesy. “Needless to

say, we’ve already started looking for physical sources of lost data, but we may have limited ourselves

too much.” A grimace that might have been an attempt at a smile passed across Marcelli’s face. “Until

we meet.”

His image faded from the screen. “Seems he was unhappy,” Kirk said as he sat down, “that he couldn’t

go on contending with us.”

[15]“We gave him few openings,” Spock said.

“I suspect that he would be happier if you were in command of this ship.”

Spock looked at him for a moment, obviously puzzled by the apparent jump in logical steps to a

conclusion.

“In other words, my emotional control is akin to that of the Tyrtaeans, specifically to that of Aristocles

Marcelli?”

“That’s the general idea,” Kirk said.

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“FIREAGAIN,”CAPTAINJAMEST.KIRKCOMMANDED... ...raisinghisvoice.“Holdfortwominutesthistime.”Againthebeamlashedthealien,andagainitwinkedout,leavingnosignofanopening,nosignofdamage.Iffullpowerfromtheship’sphaserswashavingsolittleeffect,thenphotontorpedoesmightnotdoanybetter.Thealienwouldnotbeeasilydestr...

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