Star Trek(67)
“Because I believed . . . that you were competing with me. You have been Captain T’Pol’s colleague and confidante for many years. I am a far more recent arrival. In my insecurity, I felt that you were presuming a more central place in this vessel’s decision-making process than my own. When you offered suggestions and advice, I interpreted it as a challenge to my authority.”
Her eyes were wide. “Honestly, Commander, I had no idea you felt that way. Why haven’t you talked to me about this before?”
He smirked. “Because I thought I was being the bigger man. That it would be petty for me to succumb to such feelings of rivalry and that I should simply do my duty. The implication I did not admit was that I assumed you were the smaller one. I did not dispel my belief that you were deliberately competing with me; I simply persuaded myself that I was not lowering myself to the same level.”
The Andorian shook his head, letting out a sharp breath. “And that arrogance has led to this. As long as I hold the conn, you are one of my most senior advisors. My obligation is to heed your counsel. To rely on you as I wish the captain to rely on me. And I have not done so, and for petty reasons I have endangered my officers—and your partner. For that, I must apologize, both to you and to myself.”
Sato took in a shuddering breath as she absorbed his words. “Commander . . . I swear I had no idea. If I’ve been intruding on your authority in any way, if I’ve been taking advantage of my friendship with the captain . . . I’m truly sorry.”
Thanien smiled. “And there is the surest proof I was wrong about you, Hoshi. You have every right to be angry at me for placing your lover at unnecessary risk due to my foolish pride. And yet your concern is for my hurt feelings. I am shamed by your good nature.”
She reached out to him, clasping his arm. “No. I understand. I just . . . you should’ve just talked to me. And I should’ve listened more to you.”
He clasped her forearm in return, a soldierly gesture of solidarity. “Now,” Thanien said, “let us work together and find a way to bring our people home.”
Vinaula Mountains, Rigel VII
If the promontory where Ortega had set down hadn’t been the only survivable landing site in the area, Takashi Kimura would have called it the worst position he and his crewmates could be in. While they had used their phase pistols to blast craters and cut fissures into the promontory’s climbable slopes, the damage they had been able to inflict without draining the weapons’ power packs had been limited. It had slowed the Kalar soldiers somewhat, but the burly, hirsute humanoids had shown surprising sure-footedness in clambering around or through the roughened terrain, not appreciably slowed by their heavy animal-skin vests, high-crowned helmets, bladed weapons, and shields. Kimura had tried calling to them, attempting to persuade them that the shuttlepod’s occupants wished nothing more than to leave the planet and trouble the Kalar no more; but whatever language they spoke didn’t seem to be in the translator’s database of Rigelian tongues. Then again, they didn’t seem particularly verbal, mainly just grunting and hurling spears at him. He had returned fire but had managed to stun only two of the twenty warriors before needing to retreat. Tactically, it might have been wiser to shoot to kill, for the stun effect would likely wear off in minutes. But Kimura couldn’t forget that his people were the trespassers here. He’d escalate his response if he had to, but only if he were backed against a wall.
Or a cliff, as it turned out a few minutes later. With Legatt and Money both injured in the crash, that had left only Kimura, Chiang, and the one unbroken arm of Pedro Ortega to defend against twenty bearded berserkers. Their only defense against the Kalar’s spears and crossbows had been to drag the injured back into the shuttlepod (hoping the toxic fumes released in the crash had cleared by now) while the other three stayed between it and the cliff edge, firing at the Kalar from cover. The indigenes bellowed with rage as they charged, using “Kalarrrr!” itself as their battle cry (or maybe the other Rigelians called them that after their battle cry), and a number of them fell stunned, their triangular shields offering only limited protection. But they quickly proved they were no mere savages; they ceased charging into the line of fire and advanced within the shadow of the shuttlepod itself, with several flanking Kalar arraying their shields to maximize resistance to sniping shots from around the pod’s edges.
From his vantage leaning against the rear engine, Kimura couldn’t quite see what they did next, but he heard running feet and clanking metal beneath the roar of “Kalarrrrr!”—and then was almost knocked off his feet when the shuttlepod rocked from a massive impact. The whole pod slid a good half-meter closer to the cliff face. “Uh-oh.”