Read Online Star Trek: The Original Series: Rihannsu: The Bloodwing Voyages by Diane Duane & Peter Morwood - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Diane Duane & Peter Morwood
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same way. It was a good way to stay alive in a dangerous galaxy.
Mike waved at his officers—a Terran Oriental, and two handsome, intense-looking women, one a Tellarite. “My first, Raela hr’Sassish; my chief surgeon, Aline MacDougall; my chief engineer, Iwao Sasaoka.”
“And here is the Captain of Intrepid ,” Rihaul said from one side. “Captain Kirk, may I present Captain Suvuk.”
“Sir,” Jim said, bowing slightly—not just because Vulcans were not handshaking types. This was, after all, the man who had saved nearly thirty other ships and the lives of thousands of Starfleet personnel by willingly delivering himself into the hands of the Klingons during their last brief war with the Federation. That war had been won on another front, at Organia. But Suvuk, even after being physically tortured, and then subjected to the Klingon mind-sifter, had still, in rapid succession, broken free of his captors on the Klingon flagship Hakask at Regulus; disabled the ship’s warp-drive and melted down its impulse engines, strewing unconscious, injured, and occasionally dead Klingons liberally along the way as he went; made solid-logic copies of everything of interest in the Klingons’ library computers, then dumped the computers themselves; and had finally made it back aboard his own ship in a stolen Klingon shuttlecraft, well before the Organians’ ban fell and both Klingons and Federation suddenly found their weapons too hot to handle. The Federation had later given Suvuk the Pentares Peace Commendation, with the extra cluster for conspicuous heroism.
But it did not take decorations to make it obvious that this was a man to be reckoned with. Suvuk was much shorter than Spock, and slighter; that Jim had known from holos he’d seen, and had wondered at, hearing the reports of what he did on Hakask . Now Jim didn’t wonder. What the holos didn’t adequately express was the sheer force of the personality living inside that rather ordinary-looking body. This was someone Jim had suspected might exist, without ever having seen confirmation of it—a full Vulcan so powerfully certain of himself that he had no need to be bound any more than he desired to be by the conventions of his homeworld. The face was sharp, set and cool, like that of almost every Vulcan Jim had ever seen. But it was also still, from within, in some way that most younger Vulcan faces only imitated. There was slight wrinkling around the eyes and mouth, an almost lazy droop to the eyes; a look of ease and relaxation, though the body held itself erect and alert, its power ready, but leashed. This is what Spock might look like in sixty years or so, Jim thought. I hope I live to see it….
“Captain,” Suvuk said. Jim was surprised again; who would have thought such a powerful voice would come out of such a small person? He held up one hand in the Vulcan parted-hand salute. “I greet you, for my world as well as for myself. We have had cause to acknowledge your contributions to us before this; nor would it be speculation to state that we doubtless will again.” He turned to Spock and Scott and McCoy. “Long life and prosperity to you, Spock,” he said, and Spock lifted a hand and returned the salute and the greeting. “To you also, Mr. Scott, and Dr. McCoy. Doctor,” Suvuk said, letting his hand fall, “I read your recent paper on conjoint enzyme adjustment and cryotherapy as applied to the traumatized Vulcan simulpericardium. May I compliment you on it? It is precise, comprehensive, and conclusive.”
McCoy’s face was so still that Jim knew he was concealing absolute astonishment under it, saving it for later. “Captain,” he said, “I’m gratified to hear you say so. All I need to know now is whether the technique will work as well in the field as it did on paper and in the lab.”
“Oh, as to that, you may make your mind easy,” Suvuk said, “for the T’Saien Clinic at the Vulcan Science Academy is already using it on their
Mike waved at his officers—a Terran Oriental, and two handsome, intense-looking women, one a Tellarite. “My first, Raela hr’Sassish; my chief surgeon, Aline MacDougall; my chief engineer, Iwao Sasaoka.”
“And here is the Captain of Intrepid ,” Rihaul said from one side. “Captain Kirk, may I present Captain Suvuk.”
“Sir,” Jim said, bowing slightly—not just because Vulcans were not handshaking types. This was, after all, the man who had saved nearly thirty other ships and the lives of thousands of Starfleet personnel by willingly delivering himself into the hands of the Klingons during their last brief war with the Federation. That war had been won on another front, at Organia. But Suvuk, even after being physically tortured, and then subjected to the Klingon mind-sifter, had still, in rapid succession, broken free of his captors on the Klingon flagship Hakask at Regulus; disabled the ship’s warp-drive and melted down its impulse engines, strewing unconscious, injured, and occasionally dead Klingons liberally along the way as he went; made solid-logic copies of everything of interest in the Klingons’ library computers, then dumped the computers themselves; and had finally made it back aboard his own ship in a stolen Klingon shuttlecraft, well before the Organians’ ban fell and both Klingons and Federation suddenly found their weapons too hot to handle. The Federation had later given Suvuk the Pentares Peace Commendation, with the extra cluster for conspicuous heroism.
But it did not take decorations to make it obvious that this was a man to be reckoned with. Suvuk was much shorter than Spock, and slighter; that Jim had known from holos he’d seen, and had wondered at, hearing the reports of what he did on Hakask . Now Jim didn’t wonder. What the holos didn’t adequately express was the sheer force of the personality living inside that rather ordinary-looking body. This was someone Jim had suspected might exist, without ever having seen confirmation of it—a full Vulcan so powerfully certain of himself that he had no need to be bound any more than he desired to be by the conventions of his homeworld. The face was sharp, set and cool, like that of almost every Vulcan Jim had ever seen. But it was also still, from within, in some way that most younger Vulcan faces only imitated. There was slight wrinkling around the eyes and mouth, an almost lazy droop to the eyes; a look of ease and relaxation, though the body held itself erect and alert, its power ready, but leashed. This is what Spock might look like in sixty years or so, Jim thought. I hope I live to see it….
“Captain,” Suvuk said. Jim was surprised again; who would have thought such a powerful voice would come out of such a small person? He held up one hand in the Vulcan parted-hand salute. “I greet you, for my world as well as for myself. We have had cause to acknowledge your contributions to us before this; nor would it be speculation to state that we doubtless will again.” He turned to Spock and Scott and McCoy. “Long life and prosperity to you, Spock,” he said, and Spock lifted a hand and returned the salute and the greeting. “To you also, Mr. Scott, and Dr. McCoy. Doctor,” Suvuk said, letting his hand fall, “I read your recent paper on conjoint enzyme adjustment and cryotherapy as applied to the traumatized Vulcan simulpericardium. May I compliment you on it? It is precise, comprehensive, and conclusive.”
McCoy’s face was so still that Jim knew he was concealing absolute astonishment under it, saving it for later. “Captain,” he said, “I’m gratified to hear you say so. All I need to know now is whether the technique will work as well in the field as it did on paper and in the lab.”
“Oh, as to that, you may make your mind easy,” Suvuk said, “for the T’Saien Clinic at the Vulcan Science Academy is already using it on their
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