Star Trek: The Original Series: The Rings of Time

rest.”

“Well, when you put it that way.” Chekov grudgingly surrendered his seat to Maggie Ita. He yawned and stretched. “I suppose I could use a little break.”

“Get some sleep,” Sulu urged his comrade. “You deserve it.”

Sulu sounded faintly envious. Spock resolved to relieve the helmsman, too, once Ita settled into phaser duty. It would be inadvisable to replace both Sulu and Chekov at the same time, but Spock calculated that approximately thirty-six-point-five minutes would allow for a smooth turnover at the conn. Any sooner might compromise their defense of Skagway, while any longer might decrease Sulu’s efficiency beyond an acceptable margin.

“Da.” Chekov trudged toward the turbolift. “I will be in my quarters if you need me.”

“Thank you, Ensign,” Spock stated. “That will be all.”

The turbolift doors closed on Chekov.

“What about you, Mr. Spock?” Uhura asked from her station. “You’ve barely rested since the captain… was taken ill.”

Spock appreciated her discretion. As planned, the reality of what had befallen Captain Kirk had not been shared with the entire crew. This, too, was a matter of maintaining morale. Only key officers had been made privy to the truth. As far as the rest of the crew was concerned, the captain had been temporarily incapacitated by his encounter with the alien probe and was now recuperating in sickbay. That seemed preferable to letting them know that James Kirk’s body was now occupied by a confused astronaut from twenty-first-century Earth and that the captain’s own mind was missing and presumed lost in the past.

“Your concern is duly noted, Lieutenant,” he replied to Uhura, “but, with all due respect to Ensign Chekov, I am afraid that I’m not so easily replaced. Fortunately, my Vulcan heritage also grants me greater endurance and ability to concentrate in such circumstances.”

Uhura did not sound convinced. “Are you sure that’s not just Vulcan pride speaking, Mr. Spock?”

“Merely an objective statement of fact, Lieutenant.” He did not object to Uhura questioning him. He knew that she was only thinking of the best interests of himself and the ship and that she had never been afraid to speak her mind. “False modesty is not logical.”

While accurate, his assertions did leave out certain qualifications. He had been in command of the Enterprise for precisely fifteen-point-six hours now, and fatigue was becoming an issue, even for him. Certain meditative techniques, along with the occasional bowl of plomeek soup, had helped to conserve his strength so far, but he could not maintain his focus indefinitely. Although he was reluctant to hand the bridge over to Lieutenant Commander Scott before the current crisis was resolved, especially since Mr. Scott was more usefully employed in Engineering, logic dictated that he eventually seek rest, too. He was half-human after all, even if he was loath to admit it.

“Incoming!” Sulu warned.

A trio of icy missiles threatened the colony. “I have them,” Ita reported. The slim Asian woman had recently transferred over from the U.S.S. Darrow. “Firing now.”

Sapphire beams targeted the first two meteoroids, which blew apart into — relatively — harmless hail. She hastily attempted to blast the remaining missile, too, but it was accelerating too fast. The massive hailstone cratered into the spaceport outside the dome. A cloud of shattered ice erupted from the shattered landing pad.

“Damn,” Ita muttered under her breath. She turned to look at Spock. “I’m sorry, sir. That last one got by me.”

Spock had observed her reactions carefully. “Why did you target the other two meteoroids first?”

“They seemed to be heading straight for the dome itself,” Ita replied. “I thought they posed the greater threat to colonists, sir.”

“Precisely so,” Spock agreed. “By my calculations, the meteoroids you destroyed were on course for more vulnerable targets. Do not fault yourself, Lieutenant. You made the correct choice.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Spock suspected that such decisions would become more difficult — and common — as time went by. Wide- dispersal blasts could be employed to target multiple hazards but only at the cost of reducing the overall intensity of the phasers. They would have to weigh the effectiveness of such a strategy against the need to ensure that no single large ice boulder breached the dome. None of which would matter if the entire moon ultimately spiraled into the crushing immensity of Klondike VI. The ship’s phasers and photon torpedoes were no match for the ringed giant’s gravity.

“Mr. Spock,” Uhura said. “Governor Dawson is hailing us. She wants an update on the situation.”

Spock understood her desire for fresh information. The destruction of the landing pad must have been a dramatic reminder of the danger her colony was in. He only wished he had a concrete solution to present to her.

“Please inform her that we are continuing our efforts to the best of our abilities.”

“I’ve tried, sir. She wants to talk to you.”

“Very well.” Spock accepted the interruption as unavoidable but decided that such a discussion was best conducted away from the bridge. “Please patch the frequency to the briefing room.” He thought ahead to the meeting. “And have Qat Zaldana report to the briefing room as well.”

The colony’s chief scientist was continuing to study the data from the shrinking hexagonal vortex on Klondike VI. No doubt Governor Dawson would want to hear from her, too.

“Aye, sir.”

He turned the captain’s chair over to Sulu, whose rest period was apparently going to have to wait. Ensign Brubaker assumed Sulu’s place at the helm.

“Notify me at once if there are any significant new developments,” Spock stated. “And divert additional power to the phasers.”

He did not want Skagway to be struck by an ice ball while he was conferring with the governor.

“Where is Captain Kirk?” Governor Dawson demanded. “I need to speak to him.”

She scowled in triplicate on the triscreen viewer in the briefing room. Spock and Qat Zaldana sat opposite each other. A sealed doorway ensured their privacy.

“My apologies, Governor,” he replied. “But, as I explained earlier, the captain is recovering from an accidental energy discharge. Our ship’s doctor has instructed that he not be disturbed.”

“That’s all very well and good,” Dawson objected, “but we’re fighting for our lives and home here, or have you forgotten that? I think that warrants ‘disturbing’ your captain.”

“The timing of the captain’s injury is unfortunate,” Spock said. “But the situation cannot be helped. I assure you that Captain Kirk would speak with you were he able.”

His answer was apparently not good enough for Dawson. Bypassing Spock, she directed her queries to Qat Zaldana instead. “What’s going on there, Qat? Have you seen the captain? What’s wrong with him? How bad is it?”

The veiled scientist paused before answering. “I have no reason to doubt Dr. McCoy’s assessment,” she said diplomatically. “Given the current emergency, he would not restrict the captain to bed rest unless it was absolutely necessary.” She spoke calmly, without excess emotion or dramatics. “In the meantime, Mr. Spock and the rest of the crew are working around the clock on our behalf. I believe we are in good hands.”

Spock was grateful for her measured words. She had, after all, seen “Kirk” behaving erratically after his contact with the probe. A vivid description of those events, including the captain’s apparent amnesia, would have done little to assure Governor Dawson that the situation aboard the Enterprise was under control. It seemed that Qat Zaldana also understood that.

“If you say so,” Dawson grumbled. “A hell of a time for Kirk to get himself banged up, though, I have to say.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t mean to sound uncaring, Mr. Spock, but right now I’ve got an entire colony on the verge of panicking, so you’ll forgive me if I can’t afford to worry about how your captain is feeling.”

“Understood,” Spock said. “The preservation of Skagway must remain your top priority… and mine. The