Free Star Trek: Duty, Honor, Redemption by Vonda N. McIntyre Page A

humor.
    For the first ten years of her life, Saavik had never laughed; for the first ten years of her life, she had never seen anyone laugh unless they had caused another person pain.
    Humor was not Saavik’s forte.
    Kirk held her gaze a moment, then, when she did not respond, turned away.
    “Hello, Mister Scott,” he said to the chief engineer. “You old spacedog, Scotty, are you well?”
    “Aye, Admiral. I had a wee bout, but Doctor McCoy pulled me through.”
    “ ‘A wee bout’? A wee bout of what?”
    Saavik paid particular attention to the interchange between the humans. Spock said their words were not necessarily significant. Observe their actions toward one another, their expressions. Assign at least as much importance to the tone of voice as to what is said.
    The first thing that occurred after the admiral’s question was a pause. Inability to answer the question? Saavik dismissed that immediately. Surprise or confusion? Those were possibilities. Reluctance, perhaps?
    Mister Scott glanced at Doctor McCoy—quickly, as if he hoped no one would notice. So: reluctance it was. McCoy returned his look, adding a slight shrug and a small smile.
    “Er, shore leave, Admiral,” Mister Scott said.
    “Ah,” Kirk said.
    His tone indicated comprehension, though in fact his question had been not answered but avoided. Saavik dissected the encounter in her mind and put it back together as best she could. Mister Scott and Doctor McCoy knew of some event in Mister Scott’s life that the admiral wished to know, but which Mister Scott would be embarrassed to reveal. Doctor McCoy agreed, by his silence, to conspire in the concealment; the admiral, by his tone of understanding, had appeared to accede to their plan, yet put them both on notice that he intended to find out exactly what had happened, but at some more convenient, perhaps more private, time.
    Saavik felt some satisfaction with the intellectual exercise of her analysis; it remained to be seen if it was accurate.
    Admiral Kirk strode along before the line, giving each trainee a stern yet not unfriendly glance. Spock and Scott accompanied him.
    “And who is this?” Kirk said, stopping in front of the child.
    Peter drew himself up so straight and serious that Saavik wanted to smile. He was blond and very fair; under the admiral’s inspection his face turned bright pink. He was a sweet child, so enthusiastic he practically glowed, so proud to be in space at fourteen that he lived within a radiating sphere of joy that could not help but affect those around him.
    Even Saavik.
    Now, undergoing his very first admiral’s inspection, Peter replied to Kirk breathlessly, “Cadet First Class Peter Preston, engineer’s mate, sir! ” He saluted stiffly, fast, and with great eagerness.
    Kirk smiled, came to attention, and saluted in the same style.
    If he laughs at Peter, Saavik thought, I shall certainly rip out his liver.
    The civilized part of her, taking over again after the infinitesimal lapse, replied: You most certainly shall not; besides—do you even know where the liver is in a human?
    “Is this your first training voyage, Mister Preston?”
    “Yes, sir!”
    “I see. In that case, I think we should start the inspection with the engine room.”
    “Aye, sir!”
    “I dinna doubt ye’ll find all in order,” Mister Scott said.
    “We shall see you on the bridge, Admiral,” the captain said.
    “Very good, Mister Spock.”
    Engineer Scott started toward the turbolift with Kirk; the engine room company followed. Peter flashed Saavik a quick, delighted grin, and hurried after them.
    The rest of the ship’s personnel dispersed quickly to attend their posts. Spock and Saavik left for the bridge.
    “Have you any observations to make, Lieutenant Saavik?” Spock asked.
    “The admiral is…not quite what I expected, Captain.”
    “And what did you expect?”
    Saavik paused in thought. What had she expected? Spock held James Kirk in high regard, and she had based her