Star Trek: Duty, Honor, Redemption Read Free Page B

the floor and crunched beneath his boots.
    “Trainees to debriefing,” he said.
    The young crew members, still stunned by the realism of the test, got up and moved toward the exit. The more experienced bridge crew rose from being dead or injured, laughing and joking.
    Uhura got up and brushed bits of scorched insulation from her uniform. Sulu turned over and sat up slowly.
    “Was that rougher than usual, or am I just getting old?” he said. He climbed to his feet.
    Doctor McCoy lounged on the deck, lying on his side with his head propped on his hand.
    Kirk stood over him. “Physician, heal thyself.”
    McCoy gave him a hurt look. “Is that all you’ve got to say?”
    “I’m a Starfleet officer, not a drama critic,” Kirk replied.
    “Hmph.”
    “It’s too bad you’re not a cook,” Mister Sulu said to the admiral.
    “A cook? Why a cook?”
    “You could make fried ham,” Sulu said, deadpan.
    Jim Kirk started to laugh.
    “Fried ham?” Doctor McCoy exclaimed. “I’ll have you know I was the best Prince Charming in second grade!”
    “And as a side dish,” Sulu said in the tones of an obsequious waiter, “perhaps a little sautéed scenery? When it’s cooked it’s much easier to chew.” In an uncanny imitation of Doctor McCoy, he cried, “Mister Sulu! Mister Sulu! Oh, gods, Spock, he’s dead!”
    McCoy glanced at the ceiling in supplication, but then he could not stand it any longer. He began to laugh, too. From the upper bridge, Spock watched them, his arms folded.
    McCoy wiped tears from his eyes. “Mister Sulu, you exaggerate.”
    “Poetic license,” Sulu said.
    “Speaking of poetic license, or dramatic realism, or whatever,” McCoy said, serious for a moment, “you hit the floor pretty hard. Are you all right?”
    “I am, yes, but did they reprogram that simulation? I don’t remember its knocking us around quite so badly before killing us.”
    “We added a few frills,” Kirk said. “For effect.” He turned toward Saavik, who had watched their interplay as dispassionately as Spock. “Well, Lieutenant, are you going down with the sinking ship?”
    He had the feeling she had to draw herself from deep thought before she replied. She did not answer his question but, then, his question had after all been purely rhetorical.
    “The simulation is extremely effective,” Saavik said.
    “It’s meant to be.” Kirk noticed, though, that she appeared as self-possessed and collected now as when she had entered the simulator, unlike most of the other trainees, who came out sweating and unkempt.
    “But I question its realism.”
    “You think it’s an effective simulation, and you think it’s unrealistic?” Kirk asked.
    “Yes, sir.” Her imperturbability was not as complete as she pretended; Kirk could see the anger building up. “In your experience, how often have the Klingons sent ten cruisers after a single Starfleet vessel?”
    “Lieutenant,” Kirk said with an edge in his voice, “are you implying that the training simulation is unfair?”
    She took a deep breath and did not flinch from his gaze. “Yes, I should have been more direct. I do not think the simulation is a fair test of command capabilities.”
    “Why?”
    “The circumstances allow no possibility of success.”
    Jim Kirk smiled. “Lieutenant Saavik, do you think no one who worked on the simulation, and no one who ever took it before, ever noticed that the odds couldn’t be beaten?”
    She started to reply, stopped, and frowned. “No, Admiral,” she said slowly. “I admit I had not considered that possibility.”
    “You were given a no-win situation. That’s something any commander may have to face at any time.”
    She looked away. “I had not considered that, either.” She made the admission only with difficulty.
    “By now you know pretty well how you deal with life, Lieutenant. But how you deal with death is important, too, wouldn’t you agree?”
    “I—” She cut herself off as if she would not trust