“Mister Scott,” Picard said, “open a channel to the Enterprise.”
McCoy coughed from his console. “On this ship, that’s my job.”
Picard waved his hands in dismissal. “Then… carry on, please.” He stared pointedly at Spock. “And I want to know everything that Jim has planned.”
Spock gave a small Vulcan shrug. “I am prepared to tell you. But Jim has warned me, you’re not going to like it.”
Picard sighed. “Of that I have no doubt.”
Spock began his briefing.
32
VULCAN SPACE CENTRAL
STARDATE 58571.5
All things ended, Kirk knew.
Nothing made that more clear than holding a newborn baby. The promise of a new life by definition meant the end of the old.
With love, James T. Kirk and Teilani of Chal had joined their lives to create Joseph, their vanguard to the future, their declaration of faith that there would be a future and that those would be the days worth living for, better even than the present.
So Kirk had known there would come a day when Joseph would stand apart from him, a child no longer, but a participant in the great chain of humanity that stretched from the chaos of the unknowable past to the wonder of an inconceivable future.
But he had never imagined the day would come like this, with his child taken from him.
A thousand pleas and warnings raced through Kirk’s mind as he saw his son embraced by a monster so beguiling, no child could be expected to see through her disguise.
But all Kirk could say in the emptiness of the command center was “Joseph, no… not like this.”
Joseph smiled at Kirk as if in pity, the future looking down at the past. “You know I don’t belong with you,” he said.
“That’s not true.”
Joseph traced the ridges of his forehead, his finger trailing to a pointed ear. “Look at me. I’m not like you. I’m not like Mother.”
“No child is,” Kirk pleaded.
Joseph’s smile vanished, his face became hard. “I’m not a child.”
Kirk closed his eyes as he struggled to think of a response. And when he opened them again, he knew there was nothing more he could say.
Norinda had changed.
In the past, she had taken on the form of the female most attractive to the male she communicated with. Kirk now realized the reason for the tactic: sex was a driving force of biological life, and so that was the one overpowering attribute the Totality had sought to command.
In the past, when Norinda had appeared before Joseph on the Belle Reve and on Remus, she had appeared as Teilani, breaking Kirk’s heart, but calling up lost memories of comfort and maternal love no child could resist.
But Joseph had said he was no longer a child, and Kirk saw that was true because Norinda now appeared as she had in the surveillance images captured at the Gateway.
Her skin was dark like Joseph’s, her forehead ridged, her temples dappled, her ears pointed, all like Joseph’s. She had willed herself into a female version of whatever species Joseph was, and Kirk instinctively knew that was the reason his child, for whom not even McCoy could predict a gender, had become, at last, a male.
“Can’t you see what she’s doing?” Kirk asked.
Norinda leaned her head against Joseph’s shoulder. “He knows exactly what I’m doing,” she said. “Love, James. It’s all that the Totality offers, all that the Totality is.” She looked at Joseph with admiration and wonder. “I love him.”
Kirk could see Joseph swept up in the emotional power and appeal of Norinda’s devotion.
“I belong,” Joseph said, his voice husky with desire.
“Not with that thing,” Kirk said.
Norinda glared at him, eyes narrowed. “Don’t interfere.”
Kirk studied her, and his next question was obvious.
“Then why don’t you stop me?”
Norinda didn’t answer, glanced at Joseph, stared again at Kirk as if in indecision.
Kirk pressed his advantage though he still didn’t understand why he had one.
He held out his hand, taunting his son’s captor.
“You’ve been trying to take me into your realm, like you did to Spock. So go ahead. Here I am. No resistance!”
There was enough about Norinda that was human that Kirk could see in her eyes that there was nothing more she wanted to do than to claim him.
But she didn’t reach out to him.
Kirk seized the moment, just as he had when he had rushed the Vulcan officer in the marketplace, counting on even one second’s delay to give him the advantage.
He swung up his gravity weapon and fired it point-blank at Norinda.
But Joseph was Kirk’s son and instinctively jumped between the weapon’s barrel and Norinda.
If he had expected to take a phaser blast or projectile impact, he was mistaken.
There was no energy beam, no distortion of the air, but Joseph suddenly cried out in pain as he doubled over, his legs collapsing as he was subjected to a gravity load almost four times stronger than Vulcan normal.
Kirk felt sick at having hurt his son, clicked off the weapon at once, but then charged between the improbably balanced chairs to fire at Norinda from the side.
He caught her as she leapt off the platform, trying to escape.
She slammed into the dark acoustic floor tiles as if she had fallen eight meters, not one.
Kirk stepped slowly to the side of the dais, keeping the humming weapon trained on Norinda’s body.
He saw the edges of her begin to darken, begin to crumble into black sand, as if she were being charred by volcanic flames.
She pushed herself up, tried to crawl out of range.
She left a trail of darkness, reverting to her shadow form.
Kirk allowed himself a moment of triumph.
He had been ready to sacrifice himself for his son. But now he would have another chance. There was still time.
And then Joseph hurled himself at Kirk and drove him off the platform to the floor.
Kirk gasped as he hit and rolled, his son’s mass crushing him as he landed on top.
A sharp pain in his lower chest told Kirk he’d snapped a rib.
Stars of pain exploded in his vision as he attempted to draw a breath. Then the pain of his ribs was eclipsed by the pain in his hand as Joseph, instantly back on his feet, kicked the gravity weapon out of Kirk’s grip.
Kirk hugged his hand to his chest, wincing as he realized his index finger was broken.
Then, as if Kirk were no more than a child himself, Joseph grabbed his jacket and hauled him to his feet.
Kirk wavered. The control room spun around him. His hand throbbed and each breath set fire to his chest.
“You can’t control me anymore,” Joseph said. His face had darkened with rage and exertion. His other hand was clenched into a fist.
