A Mind Occasionally Voyaging

And here we end, just, by a remarkable coincidence, in time to kick off next week, I assume with the final season of Picard. See you… Out there.

Epilogue 3: Vulcan

The door emitted a little atonal chime in response to Pike’s approach, and he waited pensively. The door opened after an interval long enough to make Pike suspect it was deliberate.

“Stonn,” Pike said, in what he hoped was a neutral tone. It bothered him to be greeted at the door by the man, even if he had made his peace with Stonn’s presence at house S’chnn T’gai.

“Admiral,” Stonn answered. He did not move, did not invite Pike in, nor question his reason for being there. It was an open secret that he was the lover – not that a Vulcan would use the term – of the lady of the house. Pike had taken longer than most to adapt to this reality. But it was logical. She fulfilled the duties demanded by law and tradition. In the decades since Ambassador Sarek and his wife had died to a Romulan-hired assassin at the last Babel conference, she had served as the head of one of Vulcan’s most respected families, and she had cared for her husband when it would have been acceptable to have him quietly institutionalized, even, under Vulcan law, euthanized given his condition. It was too much to ask that she forswear companionship altogether.

“May I speak with her?” Pike asked.

“Very well. Enter.”

As Stonn stepped aside, it occurred to Pike that the Vulcan’s demeanor was even colder than he had grown to expect. Sending her lover to answer the door was dismissive, but of whom? Pike mused grimly that getting what one wanted was not always satisfying.

Stonn guided Pike to the usual sitting room, where T’Pring was waiting for him. Pike bowed. “Greetings, T’Pring,” he said, adopting his most formal tone and trying not to show any emotion, out of respect.

“Chris,” she said. Pike’s long relationship with her let him recognize the familiar and paradoxical mix of warmth and iciness. For T’Pring, their interactions held both value and cost.

Pike sat. Stonn moved to stand beside T’Pring, but she dismissed him with the tiniest nod of her head, and he shrunk away, defeated.

“Has there been any change?” Pike asked.

Her eyebrow twitched. “Chris,” she said, “This is your thirty-seventh visit. In all that time, my husband’s condition has not changed. It is illogical that you persist in hoping for an alternative outcome.”

“Surely, it would be illogical to dismiss as impossible that which is merely highly improbable,” Pike answered.

T’Pring’s eyebrows narrowed slightly. She was not impressed. “The distinction between logic and sophistry can be difficult to discern without extensive training,” she said.

Pike’s composure faltered a bit and he asked the question. “Why did you marry him?”

Her head tilted. The breach of decorum was enough to throw her off guard. Something changed inside T’Pring and she relaxed visibly. Pike and T’Pring had known each other for a significant time even by Vulcan standards, and they were both too tired to continue the ritual.

“It was my duty.”

“Not for love, then,” Pike observed.

“Duty was more important to Spock than love. I choose to honor that. It was the logical thing to do.”

Pike’s eyes flashed briefly toward the archway where Stonn had disappeared. She did not miss it. “It was not my preferred outcome, but the balance of the cost and benefits has been and continues to be favorable. I have honored my commitment to a man I respect, at no serious impediment to the life I have chosen to pursue. May you find your own way as… Pleasant.”

Pike stood, suddenly uncomfortable. “May I see him?”

“Of course.” She rose imperiously, and with a sweep of her hand, guided him to the next room. “Stonn will escort you out when you are finished. Peace, and long life, Chris.”

The response stuck in Pike’s throat. He moved on.

T’Pring’s husband sat motionless, facing the window. “Spock,” Pike said.

The time before he received any response could’ve been hours or days. It was impossible to tell how much he heard or understood. Scans confirmed that his mind was active, but the communication centers of his brain were so badly damaged that even a mind meld couldn’t make contact. Slowly, the chair swiveled toward him.

Pike forced himself not to look away. Spock’s eyes were glassy and unfocused, but they tracked movement sometimes. The lower half of his face was a mass of scar tissue. The Vulcan healers would not perform cosmetic reconstruction without informed consent, which wasn’t possible in Spock’s case.

“We lost Sam,” Pike said. There had been no point in pleasantries with T’Pring, and there was even less with Spock. “And Una’s hurt. I don’t know how bad. Erica too. And there’s others. Another one of my mistakes caught up to me.”

If he was expecting an answer, Pike was disappointed. He went on. “I never got the chance to tell you what happened to me on Borteth. What I saw.” He paused a second.

“Do you remember when I turned down the promotion to Fleet Captain? It was about a year before…” He caught himself. “Before the war. I was supposed to accept it. And six months after that, I was supposed to sacrifice myself to save five cadets in a training accident.”

Pike thought he saw a flicker of a twitch in Spock’s eyebrow, but it was almost certainly wishful thinking. “I thought I could fight fate. I turned down the promotion. Sent some letters. Rearranged some schedules. No one was hurt in the accident. I saved them. I saved more of them than I was supposed to. I thought I won.”

He couldn’t bear it any longer and walked to Spock’s side, looking out the window rather than at his former Number One’s ruined features. “They’re all gone now. The war. Someone told me once that time is the fire in which we…” He trailed off.

“It won’t let me go. Ever since outpost four, I’ve felt like I traded your life for mine. And there’s been others over the years. Sometimes it feels like everyone I get close to. Batel. Sonak. Will. Sam. They don’t always die; some just carry the scars. Nyota. Christine. Una. You.

“This whole world feels wrong, Spock. These last twenty years, the war, all of it. The Federation is doing things that go against everything we stand for. Sam’s nephew, he was working on a weapon. Like nothing… Spock, it’s a planet-killer. I saw what it could do. It… It could be a tool for creation, but never for peace. And if the Federation gets something like that, I don’t know how we live with what it would turn us into.”

He turned back to the door. “I’m sorry I failed you, old friend. I’m sorry I traded your life for mine. This isn’t right. None of this is right. And I’m going to fix it.”

He hesitated a moment, then walked back to the door. He summoned the courage to look Spock in the eye. “The Federation will never allow it. They’ll try to stop me. But I have to end this. I have to change things. I’m going back to Boreth. I don’t care what it takes or what it costs, I’m going to make them give me a chance to change things. To stop the war, to save you, to save everyone. Even if it kills me.”

Pike turned and left. As the door slid shut behind him, the light on Spock’s life support chair blinked in time to an audible alert. BEEP BEEP.

 

Epilogue 2: Vindication

“The council is now in session,” President Roth declared. “If you will all take your seats. Bring them in.”

Una Chin-Riley had changed from her prison uniform into simple civilian clothes. She was escorted by Starfleet security officers, but was unbound. Her eyes were covered by a dark visor. Starfleet Medical couldn’t determine yet whether her Ilyrian enhancements would allow her damaged eyes to heal, and the legal restrictions on genetic augmentation complicated the question of whether she could receive clonal or cybernetic implants. Likewise, the scarring of her face and hands had been triaged, but lengthy surgeries would be needed to restore her appearance and mobility.

Erica Ortegas held her elbow to guide her. Ortegas would be standing trial herself soon, for the loss of the Reliant, but that was largely a formality. She had been offered medical discharge, and was inclined to take it. There was still hope that Starfleet medical could repair the brain damage and restore vision in her bad eye – for now, she wore a metal visor that bypassed the damaged nerves – but the psychological scars would take much longer to heal. At her other side stood Jim Kirk. They’d never met, but Kirk hoped his support would mean something to the council. The others who’d served with Una on Enterprise, thirty years ago now, watched from the gallery. Pike’s absence weighed heavily on Una, but he hadn’t returned to Earth yet. She also wished La’an could be with her, but Kirk’s first officer felt that the last thing to help Una’s chances was a Noonien-Singh in the courtroom.

“Una Chin-Riley,” the President said, “You stand accused of unlawful escape from court-ordered confinement on Salius 6. Of aiding and abetting an act of piracy in the theft of the Starship Reliant. Of conspiracy to commit theft of classified Federation research materials. Of aiding and abetting in the willful destruction of Starfleet property, specifically the USS Reliant. And finally, of providing tactical intelligence and assistance in an attack on a Starfleet vessel, the USS Enterprise, resulting in loss of life. How do you plead?”

Una held her chin high, as best she could. “Not guilty, Mister President.”

“So entered,” President Roth said. “Logs from USS Enterprise having established a preponderance of evidence for physical duress or coercion and in light of the medical reports of Doctors M’Benga, McCoy and Chapel, the charges against you are summarily dismissed.”

Una closed her eyes and let her shoulders relax slightly. The president continued. “The council recognizes your efforts, and your sacrifice, in defense of the USS Enterprise. The ship and its crew owe their lives to you. Even as the incident with Khan reminds us of the dangers posed by genetic engineering, and the reasons for the Federation’s restrictions on the practice, your actions show us that there are other possibilities, and that other cultures might find a different balance. And the ideals that our Federation stands for means that we must balance the safety of the many with the rights of the few. You exemplify the highest ideals of Starfleet, in spite of the treatment you have received under our laws. And for that reason, the previous judgment against you, for the falsification of official records to gain admission to Starfleet Academy in contravention of the Shengzen Convention, is vacated.”

A murmur went up through the assembly. Many were still reluctant, particularly so soon after news of Khan’s escape had broken, but the audience clearly approved; it would have been politically impossible to return her to prison after saving the Enterprise. “Furthermore-” he had to raise his voice over the crowd, “Furthermore! It is the judgment of this court that section seventeen of the Starfleet charter takes precedence over the prohibitions of Federation Eugenics Code 3.” The murmur in the court was louder this time, even though only about half of the gallery understood the technical language. The President explained: “In recognition of your record of distinguished service in Starfleet, your previous judgment having been vacated, you are granted full citizenship in the United Federation of Planets.”

The crowd was more torn. Una herself had expected no more than repatriation to Ilyria. Instead, she was not only free, but free to remain in the Federation. But the President still wasn’t finished. “And additionally, in light of the severity of the penalties already levied against you, your commission in Starfleet is restored. Una Chin-Riley, we can not give back the years of your life that our collective bigotry took from you, but we can grant you the rank of Captain, and, pending medical clearance, return you to active duty status.”

If there were any sounds of protest from the audience, Una didn’t hear it over the prolonged cheers from her friends and supporters. The applause drowned out some of the president’s closing remarks as well, which at this point were a formality. It was by no means a sure thing; there was a devil hiding in the details of “pending medical clearance”. Starfleet could massage the parameters of medical clearance to keep her out of active duty, and with her disabilities, it might even be the right choice.

But she had been vindicated. Even if she never set foot on a starship again, her record would show that she had done her duty and served with honor. That it wasn’t a crime to simply be who and what she was. She leaned toward Kirk and whispered the last question that weighed on her. “Where’s Chris?”

A note on the timeline: I take no stand on the relative ordering of these epilogues, beyond the self-evident fact that Epilogue 1 antecedes Epilogue 2. It makes far more logical sense for Epilogue 3 to come first, but we must allow these little storytelling aberrations.

Epilogue 1: Vengeance

Uhura adjusted her earpiece. “Approach control, this is Enterprise. Ready for docking maneuvers.”

The voice of the spacedock controller came back over the intercom, “Copy. Enterprise is cleared to dock.”

“Lock on,” Kirk said.

Sulu touched his controls. “Systems locked.”

Kirk nodded to Uhura. “Spacedock, you have control.”

On the viewscreen, the doors of the massive space station slowly parted. “Affirmative, Enterprise. Enjoy the ride. Welcome home.”

Under automatic control, the damaged ship maneuvered slowly into the space station. Within the enormous dome, drones, shuttles and repair craft buzzed around, servicing the various ships. Enterprise herself would require transfer to orbital drydock given the amount of damage that would need repair, but first there would be a transfer of the Enterprise’s trainee crew, of the survivors of Regula I and the Reliant, and there would likely be some kind of reckoning over the fates of Khan, of Genesis, and of all the others. An admiral and two captains were dead, not to mention dozens of cadets and scientists.

The doors closed behind the Enterprise and the ship maneuvered toward its assigned berthing point. They passed just close enough to the control tower that Kirk could make out the mass of onlookers, crowded at the viewports to see the legendary USS Enterprise limping home after the historic confrontation with one history’s greatest villains, back from the dead after hundreds of years. The ship turned, and another ship filled the viewscreen.

“Would you look at that,” Uhura breathed. The ship was more than twice the size of Enterprise, and while its general design was similar, the large ship had an undenyable hostile look to it, Enterprise’s curves replaced with harsh angles, and its soft gray tones replaced with matte black that gave the dreadnought the air of a scar, a jagged blackness cutting through the lights of spacedock around it.

“My friends,” Kirk said, grimly, “The great experiment. Vengeance.” He looked to Carol, who had joined them on the bridge for the last leg of their journey. “Admiral Marcus’s legacy. Ready for trial runs.” Carol looked uncomfortable.

Erica Ortegas had taken the navigator’s position. Despite her injuries, she’d wanted to be present for Enterprise’s return to Earth. Saavik had already departed, along with David Marcus, picked up en route by a science vessel bound for the Genesis planet. “They say she’s got twin type-eleven phaser cannons, and she can fire them at full warp,” she said with obvious awe.

Sulu rolled his eyes. “They say if my husband had wheels, he’d be a wagon.”

Enterprise, stand by for final docking procedures,” the controller said.

Uhura touched her earpiece again. “Captain? I’m receiving a message-” she looked surprise. “It’s from the Federation Council. We’ve… We’re being ordered to prepare Commander Chin-Riley for immediate transfer to Federation Legal Services…. To stand trial.”

A pall fell over the bridge. It was broken by Xon. “If I were human,” he said, cautiously, “I believe my response would be, ‘Go to hell.'”

Everyone stopped and turned to the Vulcan. “If I were human,” he clarified.

 

Previously on A Mind Occasionally Voyaging…

“Bones says she’ll pull through,” Kirk said as he took the seat opposite Pike in the Admiral’s cabin. “That Ilyrian immune system. But it’s too soon to say how fully she’ll recover.”

“How are you holding up?” Pike asked.

“I… Take comfort in my duty. There were a lot of things Sam and I didn’t talk about. I guess I always thought there would be time later. You know, until I heard you do it, I didn’t even know he liked to be called Sam? I thought I was the only one who did it.”

With a little bit of difficulty, Pike smiled. “Did he ever tell you about the time we encountered an ancient Earth probe that had been uplifted with alien technology?”

Kirk’s brow furrowed. “This is the V’ger incident?”

Surprise flashed briefly on Pike’s face. “Actually, no, this was before that. I bring it up because the reason we got out of that was that he had a similar name to the probe’s original designer. We were able to trick it into thinking Sam was its creator.”

Kirk managed a little laugh, but it was short-lived. Pike looked to his display pad. Communications with Starfleet had been reestablished and the first news updates had just come in. “Romulan raid in sector 30. The USS Cornwall was destroyed. First officer was Maat Al-Salah.”

Kirk shook his head. “Someone you know?”

“His father was Hansen Al-Salah. Outpost Four?”

The memory was more distant for Jim, but it came back. “Oh,” he said. “I didn’t know you kept in touch.”

“I didn’t really,” Pike said. “I think it was too hard for Maat. But I followed his career. This war,” he said, wryly.

“There are times,” Jim admitted, “When I can understand why the Federation would be looking at a project like Genesis.” At Pike’s horrified expression, he quickly added, “I’m not disappointed we failed to recover it.”

Pike looked out the window. It was raining in the simulation of Helena-Lewis and Clark National Forest. “How soon do they need you back on the Reno?”

“It will be a while. Even without the damage they took when Reliant exploded, it turns out the new engine design couldn’t handle the stress of sustained warp. They’ll need to retrofit the whole propulsion system.”

Pike was about to say something when the door to the captain’s stateroom beeped. “Come,” he said. David Marcus entered and stood awkwardly near where Pike and Kirk were solemnly contemplating untouched drinks. Kirk turned the antique copy of To Kill a Mockingbird over in his hands. He reached into his pocket and retrieved his glasses, then saw one lens had cracked at some point. He discarded them on the table.

Pike spoke first. “Doctor Marcus,” he said, “Captain Kirk just told me about your grandfather. I’m sorry.”

David gave Kirk a guilty look. “We’ve all lost family today,” he said.

“Doctor,” Pike said, cautiously, “Starfleet Command considers Genesis a top-priority project. Can you confirm that all your work was destroyed with the prototype? No backups, nothing left behind on Regula?”

Before David could answer, Pike continued. “Given what you know now, what you’ve seen of the potential for destruction if the Genesis device were… abused. Starfleet would prefer to see your research recovered, but they would… begrudgingly… accept your assurance that no one else, no one with… less noble goals… would be able to recover it. I’m sure your grandfather gave you some sense of how dangerous that would be.”

David thought for a second. “No backups, sir. We’d have to start over from scratch. It… It could take years. Or longer.”

Pike nodded. “Understood.”

He stood. “Jim,” he said, “I need you to handle recovery at Regula and Ceti Alpha Five.”

“Admiral?”

“There’s some urgent business I need to attend to. I’ll meet you back on Earth.”

Once Pike left, David turned to Kirk. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Kirk offered him his still-untouched drink. David declined. “I’m sorry about your friend,” Kirk said.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” David said. “I was wrong about you, and I’m sorry.”

Kirk smiled painfully. “Is that what you wanted to say?”

“I thought… If you had a few minutes, maybe you could tell me a little bit about him. About my uncle.”

---

“Acting first officer’s log. Stardate 8141.6. Starship Enterprise departing for Ceti Alpha Five to pick up the crew of USS Reliant. All is well, and yet, I can’t help wondering about the family I leave behind. Sam once told me that a long time ago, he worked for someone who liked to say that there are always possibilities. And if Genesis is indeed life from death, I must return to this place again.”

The shuttlecraft Copernicus cleared the damaged shuttle bay and jumped to warp. “The admiral’s shuttle is clear, sir. Engine room is reporting main power nominal.”

“Thank you, Commander Uhura,” Kirk said, taking the captain’s chair.

“You know, if they end up decommissioning the Reno, we should ask about transferring over here,” McCoy said. “The chair suits you.”

Kirk forced a smile. “There’s something about this ship,” he said.

“It wouldn’t be the Enterprise without a Kirk on the bridge,” La’an said.

“He’s not really dead,” McCoy said, comfortingly, “Not as long as you remember him.”

Kirk looked out into the vastness beyond the viewscreen. “You never really know a man,” he said, “Until you stand in his shoes and walk around in them.”

McCoy gave him a questioning look. “Something Sam was trying to tell me. On my birthday.”

“You okay, Jim?” McCoy asked. “How do you feel?”

He took a deep breath. “Young. I feel young.” He pointed a crooked finger to the viewscreen. “Mister Sulu-” he paused a moment, considering his words. “Hit it.”

---

This concludes the story proper. But come back again next time for the over-long epilogue, which exists largely because at this time, I do not think I am likely to write a sequel.

At this time…

Previously on A Mind Occasionally Voyaging…

Jim got to main engineering ahead of Pike, in time to hold him back from rushing the safety door. “You’ll flood the whole compartment!” warned the chief.

“Una?” he asked.

McCoy shook his head. “I’m a doctor, not a fortune teller. That much radiation, I just don’t know. If she were human, she’d be dead five times over already.”

Pike leaned on the transparent partition. “Una!” he called out again.

She stirred, her head turning broadly toward the sound of his voice. She clumsily pulled herself to her feet, pressing her whole forearm to the console rather than grabbing it with her fingers. She wobbled, then collected herself. She tugged at her prison uniform, straightening it as best she could, though again, she used her arms rather than her fingers. Una stumbled toward the transparent wall, and as she approached, Pike could see her eyes were unfocused. He had to force himself not to look away from the burns that marred her face.

She misjudged the distance slightly and walked into the barrier that separated them. Her cheek left a wet mark where it touched the wall. She put a hand up to steady herself. It too streaked the surface. Her fingers splayed limply: she had no fine motor control left, and her skin was raw and weeping. She rested her forehead against the wall and tried to turn her eyes to where she imagined Pike’s would be. He moved to meet her vacant gaze.

“Ship?” she asked, in a raspy voice. “Out of danger?”

“Yes,” Pike said. He placed his hand to match hers.

“And La’an?”

“Recovering,” Pike said.

Una nodded. Or perhaps just wobbled. She let herself slide down the wall into a crouch. Pike followed her movements.

“All right then,” she said. “Took you long enough to come get me.”

“I’m sorry. I should have tried harder.”

“You had your mission.”

“You should’ve been my mission,” Pike said.

“Chris…” Una said, “I’m scared.”

“I’m here, Number One,” he said.

“It’s time.”

Pike looked over his shoulder. “Vent the chamber,” he said. “The second he can get a lock, have Chief Kyle beam her directly to sickbay. Tell M’Benga to prep for radiation and decompression sickness.”

Both McCoy and the chief engineer started to protest, but Jim Kirk reacted without hesitation, putting in the call to the transporter room even as he disabled the safety interlock that protested at the command to purge the irradiated atmosphere while the engine core was occupied.

Una managed to get back on her feet. Her hair flew wildly around her, blown by the rush of air as the room depressurized. Her exposed skin began to glow bright red. “I’ll be damned,” McCoy muttered. “Ilyrian healing trance. Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“Bones, will it work?” Kirk asked.

“I’m just an old country doctor,” he said. “This? This is more like magic. I don’t know.”

“I’ve got a lock,” came the voice of the transporter chief. “Energizing.” The red glow began to fade, replaced by the blue one of transport.

Kirk helped Pike back to his feet. “My God, Jim,” he said, “So many people. Reliant. Regula. Sallius. Erica. Una. Sam. What have I done?”

Kirk thought for a second. “What you always do,” he finally said. “What you had to do. You faced the no-win scenario and saved as many people as you could.”

Pike turned away. “Not enough,” he said. “Never enough.”

---

Admiral Pike stood at the end of the loading railway as the mechanical arm lowered the mark 6 torpedo casing onto the track. To his right, Sulu lifted the Federation flag from the casket and stepped away. McCoy put a hand on Jim Kirk’s shoulder. To Pike’s left, Christine Chapel held Uhura’s hand supportively. Even Saavik struggled with her composure.

“We are assembled here today,” Pike started, “To pay respects to our honored dead. When you are a Starfleet Captain, you believe in service. In sacrifice. In compassion. And in love. We stand here today because of the sacrifice of so many people. They did not believe the sacrifice a vain or empty one, and we will not dishonor them by questioning it.”

He stepped aside and allowed Kirk to move forward. “George Samuel Kirk Junior never sought his own command. He was a scientist. I know he would be honored to be laid to rest on a strange, new world, one his sacrifice helped to create and nourish. Of my brother, I can say only this: few among us have been called to give so much, or to face so much pain. And if anything awaits us in that undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns, I hope you find peace, Sam.” He placed his hand on the casket. “Give my love to Aurelan and the boys.”

Sulu called the honor guard to attention. A dirge played on bagpipes as the casing moved slowly down the rails into the torpedo launcher, where Enterprise fired it in a pale red arc to the Genesis planet below.

 

Previously, on A Mind Occasionally Voyaging…

On the bridge, Kirk looked to Saavik. “Time?”

“Three minutes, thirty seconds,” she said.

“Distance from the epicenter?”

Sulu answered, “Four hundred kilometers.” He paused, and asked, “We’re not going to make it, are we?”

Kirk looked to his son. David shook his head.

“Captain,” Xon said with surprise, “Main power is nominal.”

“I’m stealing your engineer,” Kirk said. “Go, Sulu!”

The Enterprise shot from the nebula just seconds before the nebula ceased to exist, contracting in the face of the Genesis wave. The diffuse cloud of ionized gasses imploded, millions of years of stellar evolution compressed into a few seconds. Where the nebula had been, a rocky planet remained, glowing red-hot with the energy of its accelerated creation.

“Status on Reliant?” Kirk demanded.

“I have them, sir,” Saavik said. “The ship is starting to break up.”

“Sulu, get us into transporter range.”

“I’m not sure I can, sir,” Sulu said. “They’ve got a big head-start and we’re still limited to low warp.”

Damn. He turned to Uhura. “Is Reliant still jamming our transmissions?”

“Intermittently,” Uhura said. “I’m still having trouble getting through.”

“Open a channel on band sigma three,” Kirk said.

“Sir? That’s an obsolete smuggler frequency. No one’s used it in decades.”

“I’m hoping Khan wouldn’t bother jamming it,” Kirk said. “And I know someone who might be listening, if we’re lucky.”

“Channel open,” Uhura said, then, surprised, “I’m receiving a hail.”

She put it on speaker. A thickly accented voice said, “This is USS Reno. Is that you, keptin?”

Kirk smiled. “About time we caught a break. Reno, the Reliant has been hijacked. Can you assist?”

“Keptin, we are conducting engine calibrations, but have negative tactical capability.”

“That’s okay. They’re not going to put up a fight. They’re about to break up, but Admiral Pike is aboard. We’re too slow to make the rescue. Think you could test those new engine upgrades?”

“Understood, we have your location and are preparing to attempt transwarp.”

---

Khan punched Pike in the jaw. A few minutes ago, the punch would’ve easily broken it, but Khan was far past running on fumes. It was still enough to make Pike see stars. He shoved Khan away.

“The unconquerable will!” Khan screamed. “Study of revenge, immortal hate!” He threw another punch, but Pike blocked it and countered with a body-blow. “Courage never to submit or yield-”

An uppercut silenced him for a moment. “Khan!” Pike roared, “It’s over. Look around you! Everyone’s dead and this ship is about to explode.”

“Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep!” Khan yelled and jumped toward Pike again. “Farewell hope! Farewell fear! Farewell remorse! All good to me is lost, evil be thou my good.”

Pike braced himself against the railing and kicked with both feet as Khan came for him. “I,” he yelled as the kick connected, “Have had!” he kicked again, “Enough!” One more kick. “Of you!” One last kick sent Khan spinning into a pile of debris.

Pike wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. Things inside him were broken, he could feel it; he would need medical attention soon. But he could still walk for the moment. He staggered toward the helm. Reliant was tearing herself apart. Before he could shut down the engines, Khan was back on his feet, he swung a piece of wreckage, but not at Pike; it hit the helm controls, smashing the interface.

Pike gave a quick look around the bridge. The devastation was severe. There wasn’t an intact console left that could issue the shutdown command, and he doubted he had time to reach auxiliary command.

“Grim death,” Khan said, wryly. He fell to the floor, at last too spent to continue the fight. “My son and foe. We die together, Christopher. As it must be.”

Pike looked to the viewscreen. He wasn’t even sure if Enterprise had survived. How much had this cost him, how many more deaths on his head?

Then he felt it. He turned back to meet Khan’s widening eyes. “Not, I think, today,” Pike said. “Enjoy your reign in hell.”

---

Kirk watched helplessly as Reliant’s saucer began to shear apart in the unstable warp field. Enterprise was closing the distance, but not fast enough. Then, suddenly, from out of nowhere, a modified Sombra-class ship appeared ahead of them. It traced out a hyperbolic arc toward Reliant. Just as the three ships reached syzygy, Reliant exploded. The Reno was sent spinning from the force of the explosion, and even Enterprise, farther out, was shaken. “Pavel!” Kirk shouted.

“I got him!” came the response from the Reno. “I got him! Keptin, Admiral Pike is aboard. We are ready to beam him over to you.”

Kirk slumped into the captain’s chair and sighed. “Mister Saavik, stand down red alert. And-”

There was another chirp from the intercom. Bones. “Jim, if Admiral Pike’s back aboard, you need to get him down to main engineering. Now.”

Previously on A Mind Occasionally Voyaging…

Aboard the Enterprise, the Genesis torpedo began to glow. A fine mist issued from it as it pulsed with internal energy. On the bridge, Xon announced, “Captain Kirk, I am detecting an unusual energy pattern. It’s like nothing I’ve seen before.”

“From Reliant?” Kirk asked.

“Negative. From us, sir. Deck seven.”

The intercom beeped. “Bridge? This is Chief Kyle. Something weird is happening with the device Admiral Pike had beamed aboard.”

David Marcus had joined them on the bridge as Pike was leaving. He looked at Xon’s console. “That’s the Genesis wave,” he said. “It’s on a build-up to detonation.”

“How soon?” Kirk asked.

“We encoded four minutes.”

“How do we stop it?”

“You can’t.”

“Can we beam it into space? Blow it up?”

David shook his head. “Transporters won’t be able to get a lock now that it’s active. If you damage the casing, it will just release the wave immediately.”

“Transporter room,” Kirk shouted, “Get that thing to the nearest airlock. Engineering, I need warp power in three minutes or we’re all dead.” He pointed to Uhura. “Raise the admiral.”

“Channel open, sir.”

“Chris, Khan activated Genesis. We have less than four minutes.”

Kirk was surprised when a voice he didn’t recognize responded. “This is Una,” she said. “We have a medical emergency. Get us out of here.”

Seconds later, Una and La’an materialized in Enterprise’s main transporter room.

“Number one?” Kyle said, surprised.

“I’ll explain later,” Una said, carrying La’an from the pad. “Where’s Chris?”

“I only have partial power,” Kyle said. “It will take me a second to get a lock.”

M’Benga appeared at the door. “Una?” he said. “You’re hurt.”

“Later!” she repeated, shifting La’an into his arms. She turned and noticed the Genesis torpedo, now glowing brightly. Two cadets were struggling to lift it.

“You need to get that thing off the ship, now,” Una said. “Here.” She pushed the cadets aside and hoisted the heavy device onto her shoulders. The strain of carrying it made her head wound start bleeding again. She couldn’t manage a full sprint with such a heavy load, but she carried it as fast as she could to the emergency hatch. She dropped it, retreated past the next emergency bulkhead, and slammed her hand into the controls. Heavy doors sealed on either side of the section of corridor in front of the hatch before it blew off into space, the Genesis device carried with it out of the ship.

She pushed the intercom button. “Bridge,” she said, “Genesis is off the ship. Get us out of here.”

Una didn’t recognize the voice of Jim Kirk when he responded, “We still don’t have warp power.” Una pressed her hand behind her ear to check if she’d stopped bleeding and looked down the corridor in the direction of the turbolift.

---

Khan’s strength was flagging. His augmented body had limits, and he had blown far past them. Pike got in a lucky punch that spun him. He fell onto the helm console. Pike took the moment’s respite to draw his communicator. “Enterprise, security to the transporter room. Lock on my signal. Two to beam up.”

“Just a few more seconds, Admiral,” came Chief Kyle’s voice.

Pike prepared to grab onto Khan. If they managed to survive this, outrun the Genesis wave, he was determined to make him stand trial for Salius and Regula.

“Which way shall I fly, infinite wrath and infinite despair,” Khan rasped. “Which way I fly is Hell, myself am hell.”

Then Pike saw the display. “Main power nominal.” Khan smacked his hand into the controls clumsily. They both fell to the deck as Reliant threatened to shake itself apart when its remaining nacelle lit, just barely formed an unstable warp field, and flung the ship superluminal.

---

“I just lost transporter lock,” Kyle’s voice rattled.

“They will not be able to maintain warp for long,” Xon observed. “I estimate the ship will suffer catastrophic hull failure within six minutes.”

“That’s two minutes longer than we have,” Kirk said. “Sulu, back us away, best speed possible. Engineering, where the hell’s that power?”

Below, Una didn’t have time for a radiation suit, but she took the gloves from an incapacitated cadet. Doctor McCoy grabbed her shoulder as she approached the radiation door before the warp core.

“You out of your mind?” he protested. “No human can tolerate the radiation that’s in there.”

Una gave him a withering look. “Starfleet has been very clear that I am not human,” she said.

“You’re not going in there,” McCoy maintained.

She looked at the chief, slumped in a chair. “Maybe not,” she said. “This is the chief? Can you bring him ’round?”

McCoy turned away to look at him. “Well I don’t think that he-”

She sucker-punched him as he turned back, then caught him as he fell. She gently lowered him to the deck, then returned to the radiation door. The chief revived just as the door sealed behind her. “Who the hell are you?” he shouted through the transparent partition. “Get out of there!”

It was hot as hell in the central compartment of the engine, and the radiation burned. Una heard the engineer’s muffled pleas and obscenities through the partition as she heaved the cover off the focusing chamber. A column of bright white light shot from the open core, and Una felt hotter still as her body desperately tried to repair the damage she was doing to it.

She stared into the column of incandescent gasses. The last thing she saw, before she saw nothing at all, was the dilithium matrix. The problem was straightforward enough. The heat had deformed the tritanium mounts that held the crystals in alignment. She’d helped Khan compromise the cooling system; she was responsible for the damage. The normal fix would be to shut down the engine, vent the radiation, let the entire system cool down, remove the mountings and replace them or machine them back into their original shape. It would take hours, if not days. They had about ninety seconds. She had to take her gloves off. She reached blindly into the column of gasses, found the dilithium crystals by feel. Her hands were starting to go numb. She pushed hard, visualizing the angle of the crystals as she bent the metal. Blind, and rapidly losing her sense of touch as well, she had to rely on dead reckoning to line the crystals up. When she found the spot, the plasma stream reignited, pushing her backward.

Previously on A Mind Occasionally Voyaging…

Khan chuckled at the voice from behind. A series of concentric rings rose from the controller, and he twisted the outer one as he turned. It descended back into the console. The undamaged side of his face twisted into a forced smile. There, at the emergency hatch, was Pike, phaser in hand, alongside the woman from before, his distant scion. “Pike…” he rasped. “Even now, still alive, my old friend.”

Pike was shaken for a moment at the sight of Khan’s ruined features. The burns. Even now, decades later, the childhood fear of burning alive still nibbled at him. “Still,” he managed. “Old friend.” He gestured at the bodies that littered the bridge. “You’ve managed to kill just about everybody else. But you just keep missing the target.”

Khan launched himself at Pike. Despite age and injury, he was incredibly fast. Both Pike and La’an fired their phasers. Pike’s shot clipped Khan’s shoulder; La’an’s caught him square in the chest, but Khan gave no sign of noticing either. He crossed the bridge in three mighty bounds and had his hand on Pike’s phaser before the admiral could get off a second shot. Pike’s phaser crumpled in Khan’s grip and he wrestled Pike to the ground. Pike had been no match for Khan in unarmed combat twenty years ago, and even Khan’s injuries weren’t enough to even the odds.

La’an was reluctant to risk shooting again at close range, especially if she had to set her phaser to kill. The point was rendered moot when Khan surprised her with a back-kick from the ground that knocked the phaser from her hand. She retaliated with a roundhouse of her own, displacing Khan long enough for Pike to get back on his feet.

Khan landed near the middle of the bridge. Rather than immediately return to the fray, he sprang back toward the Genesis controller. He had turned the second ring before Pike and La’an closed the distance to him. “Give it up, Khan,” Pike demanded.

“I am formed free,” Khan spat, “And free I must remain.” Pike doubled over at a blow to his midsection. La’an caught Khan with a strike to the side of his head. Khan toppled sideways. He tried to catch himself on the railing, but his missing fingers make his hands clumsy. He hit the deck hard and rolled to one side just fast enough to avoid La’an’s boot.

He was back on his feet a second later. Khan had been a skilled fighter once, but his body was too badly mangled for anything but brute strength now. La’an was fast and her skills were sharper, but Khan’s size gave him an advantage if he could bring raw power to bear. He anticipated her left hook, twisting around it and delivering an open-handed strike to her chest that sent La’an flying. He twisted the third ring on the control unit.

Despite having the wind knocked out of him, Pike was moving again. He landed a two-fisted blow to Khan’s back, and followed up with the same to his chest when Khan straightened. Pike knew the punches wouldn’t cause Khan any significant pain or injury, but he could at least ruin his balance. Khan backhanded him into the captain’s chair. He grabbed the center cylinder that still protruded from the Genesis controller.

“Hold it right there!” All three of the combatants paused a moment in surprise. Una stood, slightly unsteady, at the bridge’s emergency exit hatch. One side of her head was caked with blood and she was holding a broken pipe like a club.

“Una!” Khan said. “Kill them. Kill them and you will have your freedom.”

“Number one,” Pike said, quietly, pleading.

Una looked from Pike to Khan and back. “I’m sorry Chris,” she said. La’an tensed, ready to jump. Una took one step toward Pike, then quickly sent the pipe spinning from her hand. It caught Khan’s hand with enough force to break bones, forcing him away from the Genesis console.

“I’m sorry, Chris,” Una said again. “I couldn’t do anything sooner.”

Khan howled with pain and stepped toward Una, throwing a clumsy overhand punch that treated his ruined hand like a cudgel. She sidestepped so quickly Pike’s eyes could barely keep up, and Khan punched only air. She countered with an attempt at an uppercut, which Khan interrupted with his elbow.

The two augments fought fiercely. As he had with La’an, Khan tried to use brute force to overwhelm Una’s superior skill. But Una was both faster and stronger than any human. He could see the injury behind her ear and tried to target it, but Una was careful to protect her right side. Khan spun in response to a quick kick to his side. He stumbled, catching himself on a fragment of the ceiling that had been torn free during the battle. He picked it up and swung around fast, hoping to outpace Una’s reflexes.

She jumped backwards, but not far enough. The sharp edge of the metal sliced her leg and she fell. La’an dashed to her side, and Khan backhanded her into the tactical console. La’an gasped sharply and looked down. The jagged end of some debris had pierced her abdomen.

Khan took advantage of the sudden distraction to make for the Genesis console. Pike was caught with indecision for a fraction of a second, but made for Khan. Too late. The cylinder retracted into the device and a digital display started to count down from 280.