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

preconceptions almost entirely on this fact. I expected him to be like Spock, she thought. But he resembles him not at all.
    “He’s very…human….”
    “You must remember that, as a member of Starfleet, you are unlikely ever to escape the presence of humans, or their influence. Tolerance is essential; in addition, it is logical.”
    “You are my mentor, Captain. Your instruction has been invaluable to me—indeed, it is indispensable.” They stepped into the main turbo-lift.
    “Bridge,” Spock said. “Saavik, no one exists who has experiences and heritage similar enough to yours to advise you competently. Even I can only tell you that, as a Vulcan and a Romulan in a world of humans, you are forever a stranger. You will have to deal with strangers who may, at times, seem incomprehensible to you.”
    “Captain,” Saavik said carefully, “I confess that I had not expected the admiral to be quite so representative of his culture. However, I intended no prejudice against Admiral Kirk, nor intolerance of human beings.”
    The doors to the turbolift opened onto the bridge, ending the conversation.
     
    Peter Preston stood at attention next to the control console that was his responsibility. It was the second backup system for auxiliary power, and its maintenance records showed that except for testing, it had not even been directly on-line for two years. Nevertheless, Peter had checked out every circuit and every memory nexus and every byte of its data base a dozen times over. Sometimes, late at night when the ship was docked without even a skeleton crew on duty, Peter came down and ran his console through its diagnostic programs. He loved being here all alone in the enormous engine room with the echoes of tremendous energy fluxes scintillating around him.
    Peter stood last in line for inspection. He could hardly bear the wait. He knew his console was in perfect shape. But what if Admiral Kirk found something wrong? What if—
    The admiral stopped in front of him, looked him up and down, and drew one finger along the edge of the console. Looking for dust? There definitely was not any dust.
    “I believe you’ll find everything shipshape, Admiral,” Peter said, and immediately wished he had kept his mouth shut.
    “Oh, do you?” Kirk said sternly. “Mister Preston, do you have any idea, any idea at all, how often I’ve had to listen to Mister Scott tell me that one more warp factor will blow the ship to bits?”
    “Uh, no sir,” Peter said, quite startled.
    “Mister Preston, do you know how they refer to the Enterprise in the officers’ mess?”
    “Uh, no sir,” Peter said again, and then thought, Brilliant line, kid. Why don’t you use it one more time and make a really good impression?
    “Why, they call it ‘the flying deathtrap.’ And they aren’t referring to the food.”
    “Sir, that’s not true! This is the best ship in the whole Starfleet!”
    The admiral started to smile, and Mister Scott chuckled. Peter felt the blood rising to his face. Oh, no, he thought, I fell for it; Dannan warned me, and I still fell for it. Dannan, his oldest sister, was already a commander; she was twelve years older than he, and he had absorbed her stories, practically through his skin, since before he could remember. If she saw him now, he knew she would tease him about looking like a ripe tomato, he blushed so hard. That is, if she would even speak to him once she found out he’d acted like such a dope.
    “And begging the admiral’s pardon, sir, ” Peter said, “but the only person who couldn’t see the truth about this ship would have to be as blind as a Tiberian bat! Sir. ”
    Kirk looked at him for a moment. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small spidery little construction of glass and gold wire. He unfolded it, balanced it on his nose, hooked some of the wires around his ears, peered closely through the lenses at the console and over the tops of the lenses at the rest of the engine room, and