“Understood,” Kirk said. Such a collision posed no real danger to the Enterprise, thanks to its shields; the real concern in this case was that valuable forensic evidence regarding the destruction of the Bombay might be lost or compromised if proper precautions weren’t taken. The captain turned his chair toward the port-side engineering station. “Mr. Scott, begin recovery at your discretion.”

“Aye, sir.” The chief engineer turned his full attention back to his console as he initiated the piece-by-piece salvage of the orbiting wreckage.

On the opposite side of the bridge, Spock—who Kirk was still not accustomed to seeing in a blue sciences uniform—peered down into the sensor hood and called out relevant information as it became known to him. “Debris density suggests three principal groupings,” he said. “Dispersal patterns are consistent with two major detonations…” He looked up and added, “And a collision.”

The comment turned heads all around the bridge, from Scott and Leslie to Kirk and Uhura. At an aft sensor station, the visiting Lieutenant Xiong appeared equally intrigued. “Interesting,” he said. Kirk got the distinct impression that Xiong was imitating Spock, perhaps unintentionally. “Do we have enough data to speculate which parties were involved?”

“Scanning for trace elements,” Spock said. “High levels of carbon, methane, sulfur…and crystalline silicon.”

Scotty interjected, “Tractoring in a big piece of some-thin’ now, Captain—and it doesn’t look like it came from one of ours.” He squinted at the main viewer as a small chunk of twisted metal grew larger on the screen. “Judging by the look of that armor layer, I’d say it’s Tholian.”

Spock straightened and faced Kirk. “I concur, Captain. Scans are consistent with known Tholian composites. Based on the volume of debris. and the configuration of its largest pieces, I estimate that we are looking at the remains of four Tholian heavy cruisers mixed with the wreckage of the Starship Bombay.”

“Four cruisers,” Kirk said, now awed by the story he imagined must lurk in these scattered, scorched fragments. “That must have been quite a battle.”

Looking at the main viewer, Spock added, “I will submit a more detailed report after we complete our scans and conduct a forensic investigation of the recovered debris. However, one last item seems worth noting.” He reached down and patched in an enlarged view of a mangled wedge of the Bombay’s saucer section. “The close proximity of debris from the Tholian cruiser and the Bombay, combined with the fact that the Bombay’s self-destruct package has been detonated, suggests that Captain Gannon’s final tactic was to sacrifice her ship—and destroy another of her attackers at the same time.”

At the Academy, Kirk had heard cadets from less gender-egalitarian colonies and civilizations scoff at the idea of women commanding starships. (Though, to be fair, a few cadets from matriarchal worlds had felt the same way about men in the center seat. He considered both prejudices equally narrow-minded.) If only those people could see how Hallie Gannon met her enemy, he reflected with grim pride. You can’t argue with bravery like this.

“Good work, Spock. Have Scotty and his team continue analyzing the ship debris. I want a scan for life signs at the outpost on the surface as soon as possible.”

“Already done, Captain.” The Vulcan officer held his unblinking gaze for a moment. Kirk felt his jaw clench as Spock continued in his stately monotone, “No life signs on the surface. The outpost is gone.”

At the aft station, Xiong sprang from his chair. “Gone?” Everyone looked at him, and he recoiled at the sudden surplus of attention. Walking down into the center of the bridge, he continued, “Commander, can you elaborate? What kind of structural damage are we dealing with?”

“Quite literally, Lieutenant, the outpost is gone. Its coordinates are now the epicenter of a sizable crater.”

Cutting in, Kirk said, “Spock, are we certain there are no survivors? Could they have moved out of the blast range?”

Calm as ever, Spock said without inflection, “Negative. Every living thing on Ravanar IV has been exterminated…. This planet has been sterilized.”

Sterilized. A chill of horror crept down Kirk’s spine. “Cancel the landing party,” he said. “As soon as we police up the debris, we—”

“We still have to go down there,” Xiong said urgently.

“That would be most illogical, Lieutenant,” Spock said. “The listening post is completely eradicated. There is no hope of a successful rescue or salvage operation.”

“It wasn’t a listening post,” Xiong said.

Abrupt revelations, in Kirk’s experience, rarely preceded good news. “Go on,” he said to Xiong.

“It was an underground excavation, an archaeological dig. At least, it was, until we found an artifact we couldn’t identify. That’s when we brought in the Starfleet Corps of Engineers.”

“The listening post,” Kirk said, piecing this together in his head, “was really an S.C.E. team.”

“Right,” Xiong said.

“Here to study an artifact—which you found.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kirk glanced briefly at Spock, if only to avoid burning a hole through Xiong with his glare of anger. “I don’t recall seeing this in your report, Lieutenant.”

“I’m sorry, Captain, it was classified. Commodore Reyes’s orders. I know it isn’t likely that anything is left of the dig, but I have to see for myself. Please, sir.”

Attempting to put a label on his reaction to this sudden snippet of information followed immediately by a request, Kirk decided that “conflicted” would be an understatement. He was not in the habit of rewarding junior officers for withholding vital, mission-related information. On the other hand, he had been itching to know what was so important to the Federation that it built a starbase as large as Vanguard this far beyond its established border. If the excavation on Ravanar IV had been important enough for Commodore Reyes to classify it and order Xiong to lie about his mission objectives, then there was a good chance that the site below was connected to the bigger picture of Starfleet’s push into the Taurus Reach.

Kirk rose from his chair, snapping orders even before his feet touched the deck. “Mr. Spock, assemble the landing party. Scotty, you have the conn.” Staring hard at Xiong, he added, “Lieutenant, if you have anything else to tell me—”

“I’ll know when I see the site, Captain. Until then, I have to ask you to trust me, as one Starfleet officer to another.”

For some men, that would not have been enough. But for Jim Kirk, that was the most solemn vow there was.

He gestured toward the turbolift, where Spock stood waiting. “Let’s go, Lieutenant.”

The siren song of the transporter effect diminished as the final shimmering, golden speckles faded from Ming Xiong’s sight.

His peripheral vision was hindered by the narrow visor of his metallic-red flex-fiber radiation suit. I hate these things, he brooded. Ever since childhood he had despised enclosed spaces. The misery of being sealed up in radiation gear was sometimes mitigated by the view outside. Today, however, the view of Ravanar IV offered no solace—only a smudged sky of churning ash clouds and a broad vista of barren, smoldering dirt that stretched away toward some nearby hills and a distant horizon.

To look around at the rest of the landing party, Xiong had to turn his entire torso. On his left, Spock circled the group, following some readings from his tricorder. Walking close behind him was security guard Luke Patterson. Turning the other way, Xiong saw Enterprise senior geologist Lieutenant Robert D’Amato take some readings with his tricorder. Security guard Scott Danes waited patiently a few meters away.

Kirk stood next to Xiong. “This used to be a jungle,” the captain said, his dismay evident despite his voice being filtered through the radiation suits’ shared comm channel.