Neutral Zone! This ship already proved she can’t make her way out of spacedock without falling apart!”
“I know,” Uhura said. “But if anyone can pull it off, Scotty, you can.”
It sounded lame even to her own ears. Scott gave a snort of disgust and went back to his work.
Commander Hikaru Sulu tipped his head back to catch a glimpse of sky beyond the tops of the tall pines. The sun was no longer visible overhead, but had slipped toward the horizon. The air was already beginning to cool. They had an hour, Sulu figured, an hour and a half at most, before dark. The brilliant blue sky was already starting to fade to gray.
“Admit it,” Chekov’s weary voice said behind him. “We’re lost.”
Sulu smiled and slowed his pace through the dense woods to allow Pavel to catch up to him. The Russian was beginning to sag under the weight of his backpack; they’d been hiking since midmorning. It was true: Sulu was quite lost. Foolish of him not to bring a compass—but that would have taken all of the adventure out of it. He felt as tired as Chekov, yet the sensation was enjoyable, pleasant, and he could not get upset about being lost in this primeval wilderness. Its beauty was too heady, too exhilarating, to permit anything to mar it. Sulu drew in a lungful of cool air scented with evergreen and felt refreshed.
For a moment, it was easy to imagine that he was a kid again in Ganjitsu’s tall forests . . .
But that image brought unpleasant memories with it, memories of another time when he had been unable to find his way. He pushed the memories back and turned to face Chekov.
“All right,” he admitted cheerfully. “We’re lost. But at least we’re making good time.”
Chekov was not amused; he groaned and came to a full halt. “Very funny. I suppose
you
have no blisters.’’
“Blisters?” Sulu cast a concerned glance at Pavel’s obviously new boots. “Didn’t you remember to synthesize a half-size larger and then wear—”
A shrill beep from the communicator on his right hip made him stop in midsentence. Both he and Chekov stared at it in amazement.
“I don’t believe this.” Sulu pulled the communicator from his belt and flipped it open. “Even Scotty couldn’t have put the ship together this fast.” He raised the device and spoke into the grid. “Commander Sulu here.”
It felt odd using the old rank, now that he’d finally gotten used to being addressed as “captain”—almost as odd as it felt to refer to James Kirk as “captain” again instead of “admiral.” Not an altogether comfortable feeling, and yet, Sulu reminded himself, he had not actually been demoted, as Kirk had. At his request, he had been temporarily reduced to the rank of commander so that he could serve aboard the new
Enterprise.
The alternative had been to take a ship of his own, a prospect he’d found tempting. And yet, Sulu reasoned, the
Enterprise
was as much his ship as Kirk’s. The admiral—that is, the captain—might give the orders, but it was Sulu who safely guided her through the stars.
Then there was the question of loyalty. After all he had endured with the captain and the others, there was no question that he would ask to serve with Kirk again—and gladly take the reduction in rank in order to do so.
Kirk had been furious when he’d heard. He gave Sulu hell for not looking after his own career. And then he’d thanked him.
“Commander Sulu, this is
Enterprise,”
Uhura’s voice said. The tense formality in her tone indicated that she was about to say something she knew Sulu did not want to hear. “Bad news, gentlemen. Shore leave’s been canceled.”
Sulu frowned, disappointed.
“Slava Bogu,
“Chekov breathed thankfully. “Rescued at last.”
Uhura continued. “Return to the prearranged coordinates for pickup.”
Sulu and Chekov exchanged amused glances.
“Don’t tell her we’re lost,” Pavel whispered. “She’ll never let us live it down—a helmsman and a navigator who
“I know,” Uhura said. “But if anyone can pull it off, Scotty, you can.”
It sounded lame even to her own ears. Scott gave a snort of disgust and went back to his work.
Commander Hikaru Sulu tipped his head back to catch a glimpse of sky beyond the tops of the tall pines. The sun was no longer visible overhead, but had slipped toward the horizon. The air was already beginning to cool. They had an hour, Sulu figured, an hour and a half at most, before dark. The brilliant blue sky was already starting to fade to gray.
“Admit it,” Chekov’s weary voice said behind him. “We’re lost.”
Sulu smiled and slowed his pace through the dense woods to allow Pavel to catch up to him. The Russian was beginning to sag under the weight of his backpack; they’d been hiking since midmorning. It was true: Sulu was quite lost. Foolish of him not to bring a compass—but that would have taken all of the adventure out of it. He felt as tired as Chekov, yet the sensation was enjoyable, pleasant, and he could not get upset about being lost in this primeval wilderness. Its beauty was too heady, too exhilarating, to permit anything to mar it. Sulu drew in a lungful of cool air scented with evergreen and felt refreshed.
For a moment, it was easy to imagine that he was a kid again in Ganjitsu’s tall forests . . .
But that image brought unpleasant memories with it, memories of another time when he had been unable to find his way. He pushed the memories back and turned to face Chekov.
“All right,” he admitted cheerfully. “We’re lost. But at least we’re making good time.”
Chekov was not amused; he groaned and came to a full halt. “Very funny. I suppose
you
have no blisters.’’
“Blisters?” Sulu cast a concerned glance at Pavel’s obviously new boots. “Didn’t you remember to synthesize a half-size larger and then wear—”
A shrill beep from the communicator on his right hip made him stop in midsentence. Both he and Chekov stared at it in amazement.
“I don’t believe this.” Sulu pulled the communicator from his belt and flipped it open. “Even Scotty couldn’t have put the ship together this fast.” He raised the device and spoke into the grid. “Commander Sulu here.”
It felt odd using the old rank, now that he’d finally gotten used to being addressed as “captain”—almost as odd as it felt to refer to James Kirk as “captain” again instead of “admiral.” Not an altogether comfortable feeling, and yet, Sulu reminded himself, he had not actually been demoted, as Kirk had. At his request, he had been temporarily reduced to the rank of commander so that he could serve aboard the new
Enterprise.
The alternative had been to take a ship of his own, a prospect he’d found tempting. And yet, Sulu reasoned, the
Enterprise
was as much his ship as Kirk’s. The admiral—that is, the captain—might give the orders, but it was Sulu who safely guided her through the stars.
Then there was the question of loyalty. After all he had endured with the captain and the others, there was no question that he would ask to serve with Kirk again—and gladly take the reduction in rank in order to do so.
Kirk had been furious when he’d heard. He gave Sulu hell for not looking after his own career. And then he’d thanked him.
“Commander Sulu, this is
Enterprise,”
Uhura’s voice said. The tense formality in her tone indicated that she was about to say something she knew Sulu did not want to hear. “Bad news, gentlemen. Shore leave’s been canceled.”
Sulu frowned, disappointed.
“Slava Bogu,
“Chekov breathed thankfully. “Rescued at last.”
Uhura continued. “Return to the prearranged coordinates for pickup.”
Sulu and Chekov exchanged amused glances.
“Don’t tell her we’re lost,” Pavel whispered. “She’ll never let us live it down—a helmsman and a navigator who
Similar Books
