frightening.
And then J’Onn saw the ears. Regulus was governed by Romulans; J’Onn could perceive the subtle differences between them and other Vulcanoids. He let go a gasp. “You . . . you’re a Vulcan.”
The stranger gave one slow, grave nod. And then he did something that J’Onn had never seen a Vulcan do before.
He smiled and threw back his head and laughed.
Chapter Two
A STARK AND FORBIDDING MONOLITH, El Capitan rose out of the forest and into the clouds. At the campsite near the banks of the Merced River, in the shade of tall pine and cedar, Dr. Leonard McCoy peered through binoculars at the mountain’s face. El Capitan reared straight up to form a right angle with the forest floor; it was nothing less than a massive wall of rock, and from where McCoy stood, its sides seemed smooth, offering little or no purchase.
Only a fool or a madman would attempt to scale it.
The doctor raised a pair of binoculars to his eyes and scanned El Capitan until he found what he was looking for: a lone human figure pressed against the rock, hugging the side of the mountain. From this distance, Jim Kirk appeared the size of a mosquito.
McCoy swore under his breath. Kirk had managedto make his way a few hundred meters up, and he was doing it—against the doctor’s loud protests—with no equipment, no ropes, no grommets. If Jim’s grip should weaken at an inappropriate moment. ..
“’You’ll have a great time, Bones.’” McCoy mimicked sarcastically. “’You’ll enjoy your shore leave and be able to relax.’” He lowered the binoculars; without them, Kirk became a barely distinguishable speck on El Cap’s face. “You call this relaxing? I’m a nervous wreck.”
True, Jim’s suggestion had been a good one. Yosemite was the ideal location for shore leave, possessing a wild, remote beauty that filled McCoy with humble reverence. He hadn’t been to Yosemite since he was a boy, and it moved him to find that it had not changed: it was every bit as vast and breathtakingly majestic for the adult as it had been for the child.
Yet here he was in the midst of this rugged paradise, unable to relax and enjoy it, and for that he was honestly angry at Jim. The Federation Council had finally granted Kirk what he had wanted all along—a demotion to the captaincy and the
Enterprise,
or at least her namesake, back under his command. You’d think the man would be glad, but his demeanor aboard the ship was withdrawn, irritable, brooding. McCoy figured shore leave would solve it. And it did, to an extent, but now Jim’s attitude had become reckless. The day before, the doctor had taken him white-water kayaking. Jim had refused to wear a life preserver until McCoy put his foot down. And then Jim had intentionally sought out the most dangerous rapids, in the process nearly drowning himself andMcCoy, who had followed in his own kayak in a rescue attempt.
Kirk was not only unapologetic about the incident, he was belligerent, angry that McCoy had interfered. Shortly thereafter, he had announced his intention to climb El Capitan without benefit of safety equipment, and had the nerve to seem irritated that the doctor was upset about his decision. Only the most experienced mountain climbers attempted El Cap, and those who did so generally used equipment. Only the finest climbers in the world went without, and all of them, as far as McCoy knew, insisted on a wide-dispersal electromag cushion at the mountain’s base, in case the worst happened. More than one person’s life had been saved by the cushion when rocks, or muscles, gave way.
Jim wouldn’t hear of it.
Here was a man, McCoy reflected, who had just gotten what he wanted most out of life—his ship, his command—and he seemed determined to destroy it. . . or himself.
The most frustrating thing of all was that Jim denied it, refused to discuss it; in fact, suggested that the doctor was being paranoid and was himself sorely in need of R-and-R.
Which, God knew, McCoy
And then J’Onn saw the ears. Regulus was governed by Romulans; J’Onn could perceive the subtle differences between them and other Vulcanoids. He let go a gasp. “You . . . you’re a Vulcan.”
The stranger gave one slow, grave nod. And then he did something that J’Onn had never seen a Vulcan do before.
He smiled and threw back his head and laughed.
Chapter Two
A STARK AND FORBIDDING MONOLITH, El Capitan rose out of the forest and into the clouds. At the campsite near the banks of the Merced River, in the shade of tall pine and cedar, Dr. Leonard McCoy peered through binoculars at the mountain’s face. El Capitan reared straight up to form a right angle with the forest floor; it was nothing less than a massive wall of rock, and from where McCoy stood, its sides seemed smooth, offering little or no purchase.
Only a fool or a madman would attempt to scale it.
The doctor raised a pair of binoculars to his eyes and scanned El Capitan until he found what he was looking for: a lone human figure pressed against the rock, hugging the side of the mountain. From this distance, Jim Kirk appeared the size of a mosquito.
McCoy swore under his breath. Kirk had managedto make his way a few hundred meters up, and he was doing it—against the doctor’s loud protests—with no equipment, no ropes, no grommets. If Jim’s grip should weaken at an inappropriate moment. ..
“’You’ll have a great time, Bones.’” McCoy mimicked sarcastically. “’You’ll enjoy your shore leave and be able to relax.’” He lowered the binoculars; without them, Kirk became a barely distinguishable speck on El Cap’s face. “You call this relaxing? I’m a nervous wreck.”
True, Jim’s suggestion had been a good one. Yosemite was the ideal location for shore leave, possessing a wild, remote beauty that filled McCoy with humble reverence. He hadn’t been to Yosemite since he was a boy, and it moved him to find that it had not changed: it was every bit as vast and breathtakingly majestic for the adult as it had been for the child.
Yet here he was in the midst of this rugged paradise, unable to relax and enjoy it, and for that he was honestly angry at Jim. The Federation Council had finally granted Kirk what he had wanted all along—a demotion to the captaincy and the
Enterprise,
or at least her namesake, back under his command. You’d think the man would be glad, but his demeanor aboard the ship was withdrawn, irritable, brooding. McCoy figured shore leave would solve it. And it did, to an extent, but now Jim’s attitude had become reckless. The day before, the doctor had taken him white-water kayaking. Jim had refused to wear a life preserver until McCoy put his foot down. And then Jim had intentionally sought out the most dangerous rapids, in the process nearly drowning himself andMcCoy, who had followed in his own kayak in a rescue attempt.
Kirk was not only unapologetic about the incident, he was belligerent, angry that McCoy had interfered. Shortly thereafter, he had announced his intention to climb El Capitan without benefit of safety equipment, and had the nerve to seem irritated that the doctor was upset about his decision. Only the most experienced mountain climbers attempted El Cap, and those who did so generally used equipment. Only the finest climbers in the world went without, and all of them, as far as McCoy knew, insisted on a wide-dispersal electromag cushion at the mountain’s base, in case the worst happened. More than one person’s life had been saved by the cushion when rocks, or muscles, gave way.
Jim wouldn’t hear of it.
Here was a man, McCoy reflected, who had just gotten what he wanted most out of life—his ship, his command—and he seemed determined to destroy it. . . or himself.
The most frustrating thing of all was that Jim denied it, refused to discuss it; in fact, suggested that the doctor was being paranoid and was himself sorely in need of R-and-R.
Which, God knew, McCoy
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