The Kobayashi Maru Read online

  Sulu tore free a sheet of paper and began methodically shredding it into a pile at his feet. According to his time piece, he had approximately another hour and twenty-five minutes to kill before this scenario reached its less-than-climactic climax. He resolved to make a pile as high as his seat before that time.

  "You're wasting your national resources." Coan appeared at his shoulder, still wearing that infuriating know-it-all smile. "You've got nearly eighty-five minutes yet, Ensign!"

  "My stock market crashed," Sulu replied. He tried to keep annoyance out of his tone, but failed miserably. Shifting to face Coan, he hooked one foot over the chair's arm and propped his elbow atop the back. "It's pointless! I'm in a position where I can't do anything for myself, I'm paired with an antisocial Federation hopeful who isn't a great deal of help, and those three at the main table are still trying to decide what kind of china to use at their formals!"

  When his comments only seemed to amuse Coan the more, he turned away from her again, grumbling, "And my cadet bloc monitor is a closet sadist that somebody gifted with commodore's bars."

  Her hand took hold of his shoulder in warning. "Careful…"

  Sulu felt his face grow red. "Excuse me, sir."

  Once Coan was gone, he reevaluated what he'd said to her. He didn't really want to quit—he didn't want to be a one-legged swamp crane who never learned to dance. What would Poppy say after spending all that time explaining about the silly dancing birds? Sulu smiled and glanced at the Federation Council on the other side of the room. Well, if the mountain wouldn't come to Mohammed…

  He attracted Coan's attention by bouncing an origami crane off her shoulder. Expressing more irritation than he suspected she actually felt, she stepped through the assembly to squat by the arm of his chair.

  "I want to go to the Federation myself." Before she could condemn or verify his plan, he elaborated, "I know I've only got the wave-radio capabilities, and I know they wouldn't be expecting my call. And I know it would take—" He tipped his eyes unconsciously ceilingward as he figured. "—nearly eighteen months for the call to reach them."

  Coan grinned at him. "And you've only got eighty-five minutes to go."

  "This is a scenario," Sulu pointed out. "Can't we compact time a little?"

  Still grinning, Coan reached behind his chair and came up with one of his many paper constructions. "You seemed to be doing pretty well with these earlier." Sulu shrugged, and Coan went on: "If you can land a message on the main table, or even in the lap of a Federated planet, anyone who reads it can act for you. Just because they rely on subspace communication doesn't mean they can't hear what you send." She unfolded Sulu's paper plane as she stood, dropping it into his lap. "What if they won't read it, or they ignore you?"

  Sulu shrugged, flattening the piece of paper. "Then I'm no worse off than I am right now."

  She studied Sulu so intently it made him shift uncomfortably in his seat. "Only seventy-five minutes and eighteen months to go," she said finally, breaking her gaze. "You'd better start writing!" And, with an approving smile, she moved away.

  Sulu considered his note carefully, knowing if he was to have any hope at all of Federation intervention it would be dependent on how effectively he could convey his plight in writing. He discarded Coan's unfolded plane in favor of a clean sheet of paper.

  Dear Delegates of the Renowned and Honest Federation Council

  He hated it immediately. Too wordy, too insincere. Scribbling out that line, he began anew, more thoughtfully.

  Dear Champions of Freedom

  "Yuck."

  He scratched out his second attempt, and finally settled on a neutral, unimpressive:

  Dear Members of the United Federation:

  I send you this communiqué on behalf of the citizens of Menak III. Although not members of the Federation, we respect and appreciate the good your kind emissaries do throughout the galaxy. We appeal to you now for your aid.

  Menak is being crushed beneath the weight of economic and health turmoils beyond our ability to control. We are mineral poor. We are neglected. We are dying. Please—all we request is the opportunity to speak with you regarding help for our people. You have knowledge of medicines, and safe power sources; without your assistance, we fear Menak will have no future at all.

  Please.

  The Governing Body

  of Menak III

  Satisfaction displaced the frustration of only a moment ago. Sulu tucked the rest of his papers into a pocket, and considered the best delivery method for his note. Paper wads were out, since they were too easily mistaken for a personal affront; origami cranes were more dense than airplanes (and so traveled better over short distances), but they had a tendency to tumble while airborne, so didn't frequently exercise much accuracy in attaining their targets; airplanes ran the risk of overshooting, and (for reasons Sulu failed to comprehend) it seemed no one ever thought to unfold the planes to find their message. Still, airplanes seemed the best of the three alternatives, and seventy minutes really wasn't enough time to get creative. He hummed to himself as he folded the plane.

  The resultant vessel was hardly a work of art, but Sulu was confident it would traverse the distance necessary to deliver his plea to the Federation Council. He caught Coan's eye as he inspected the lines of his aircraft, and returned her conspiratorial wink with a somewhat embarrassed smile.

  No wind disturbed the air in the spacious room, so Sulu knew nothing but satisfaction as he watched his courier float cleanly over the heads of half his classmates and dip sweetly to a landing over the Romulan Empire's right shoulder. Perez-Salazar was the only member at the table to even notice the landing; she made a face at the paper construct, then pushed it out of their work area.

  Sulu was folding another plane before Perez-Salazar had even rejoined the heated discussion; he should have learned from his exchange with Orion. Scrawling a repeat of his "READ THE FIRST AIRPLANE" message, he tossed the second plane toward the main table.

  This time, Perez-Salazar snatched the plane while it was still airborne, crushing it in her fist. She fixed Sulu with a disapproving glare as she tossed it to join the first plane. In an agony of frustration, the ensign called, "Read it!" only to be drowned out by Coan's stern, "Foul, Menak!"

  "Of course…!" he grumbled, slouching low in his chair.

  If this were indicative of galactic politics, Sulu was sufficiently convinced that he didn't want to be a councilor. He tore a sheet of paper into six rough squares, sullenly folding a crane from the first as he listened to the Klingon and Romulan empires argue about voting rights.

  In the smallest handwriting he could manage and still be legible, Sulu started at the nose of the crane and wrote: THIS CRANE WILL SELF-DESTRUCT IN 5 SECONDS. Then he decorated the crimped wings with:…4…3…2…1 …He was disappointed that there was no room left to write BOOM!

  Widening the tiny hole in the bottom of the crane, he inserted the tip of his pen to launch it. He stopped himself just before sending the crane on its way. Terrorism wasn't the answer—not if he really wanted to establish some rapport with the Federated planets. He removed the little crane reluctantly, and set about writing another impassioned plea.

  This note he folded as a crane (sufficiently discouraged with the responses to his airplanes). He mounted it on his pen like the first, then snapped it catapult-style toward the main table. The crane careened over the Romulan Empire's head, into the center of the table, and over the Federation's right shoulder. The Federation delegate growled something short and foul as he stooped for the paper bird; Sulu wondered if he were the only one to notice where the crane landed when the Federation tossed it offhandedly away.

  Vulcan started quite satisfactorily as the crane bounced into her lap, staring at the origami avian as though uncertain if she should touch it. "Uh, Commodore Coan?" The hesitant summons caused everyone at the head table to twist about in startled dismay. "Is this a communication, sir?" the solitary cadet asked, holding up the little crane.
/>   The Federation squeaked in indignation. "Where did you get that?" he demanded, frantically scanning the room proper. "Who sent that?"

  Sulu wished desperately to be less than three feet tall.

  "Well, you threw it to me…but it came from over there." Vulcan pointed across the room toward Sulu; the young cadet waved. "Does this mean I should start timing my half hour again, sir?" Vulcan appealed to Coan again.

  "No!" The Federation's insistence sounded more desperate than well-considered.

  Coan stayed where she was against one wall, her arms folded across her front. "What do you think?" she asked with a shrug.

  Vulcan studied the crane very seriously. "Well, it is a transmission from an outside source…"

  "Oh, come on!" the Federation moaned.

  "…so I guess it's only fair…"

  "Fair?" The Federation leapt to his feet to seize the crane from Vulcan. "Fair to drive the Federation to desperation just because some jerkwater planet is throwing ducks?!"

  Sulu straightened in his chair. "They're cranes!"

  The Federation slung the crane back at him; it only flew about halfway. "They look like ducks!"

  "Stop acting like children." Perez-Salazar's Latin contralto cut through the beginning of Sulu's reply. "You're only complaining," she accused The Federation, "because you planned to use Vulcan as the solution to all your problems. This is what you deserve for not having the courage to act for yourself!"

  "What I don't deserve," the Federation returned acidly, "is a bunch of war-mongering idiots grubbing up every planet they come to and then claiming they own the whole system!"

  Sulu thought he had never before seen someone's soul truly catch fire. Perez-Salazar's face grew even darker as her eyes began to smolder, Coan started across the room for the head table. "Okay, people, I think that's enough for now…!"

  "You are accusing my people of cowardly acts?" Sulu wasn't sure whether Perez-Salazar was responding from a sense of offended nationality or if she'd gotten too involved in the role-playing.

  "Take it as you will," the Federation replied.

  Perez-Salazar rocketed to her feet just as Coan reached the table. She spit on the table in front of the Federation. "Congratulations, el jefe estupendo—you now have a war!"

  Coan physically sat herself on the table between the two, stopping the Federation's advance with a warning hand on his chest. "This is make-believe!" she reminded him, then turned to rake a meaningful look across the rest of the room. "Maybe you'll all appreciate the usefulness of make-believe in the rest of your training!" Waiting until the Federation had nodded his understanding and returned to his chair, Coan motioned that Perez-Salazar should sit as well. "I wish you could all just listen to yourselves! It's like recess with a bunch of kids!" Nobody laughed.

  "I have never had a less cooperative, more selfish bloc of cadets in my life!" Coan continued through their guilty silence. "You were all chosen to be here because you're special—intelligent—because you display abilities common to good command officers!" She paced toward the middle of the gathering, turning slowly as she walked in order to rake an icy glare across them all. "Well, where did all those fine traits go?" Stopping just behind Sulu's chair, she leaned against the back of it. "I saw one of you use creativity and cooperation to solve the problems put to him. And everybody else either made fun of him or ignored him!" Sulu had a feeling he knew who was being singled out. "If this had been real life," Coan berated the rest of them, "you'd be lucky if Menak didn't bomb you all while you were busy squabbling among yourselves!" Sulu slipped the terrorist crane into his pocket as surreptitiously as he could manage. "In later scenarios, you won't get the chance to be so kind to one another, even if you feel so inclined."

  She looked them over with coldhearted calculation one last time, then broke into a friendly smile and clapped her hands. The transformation was so complete, Sulu didn't know whether to respect her flexibility or resent her manipulations. "Okay, everybody," she cried, making herding motions toward the closest door, "time for lunch! Go put food in your stomachs—we've got a million things to do yet today!"

  Sulu tossed his accoutrements into the growing pile on the head table, pocketing the last of his origami cranes. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in a housing deal on Menak III?" he quipped to Perez-Salazar.

  She didn't dignify his comment with a reply.

  Sulu barely noticed the passage of the next week.

  Class followed class followed drill followed meals. Sleep must have occurred somewhere between the busy days, but Sulu honestly had no memories to account for all the nights. What happened on Tuesday was as distant or as near as what commenced on Friday; Sulu took to dating his class notes and his private reminders just to keep the past in perspective. His future he didn't even think about as yet.

  He recognized Monday when it arrived only because it was the very first day on which he had any inkling what would happen next: his class schedule was the same as that first Monday, and he had kept meticulous record. Somehow, the warp-driven pace seemed a little less grueling, the instructors and courses just a little less confusing with that time schedule as an anchor for reality. Sulu achieved the end of the day in much better humor than he had one week before.

  No voices greeted him upon his return to the bunkard. He was somewhat surprised to have beaten everyone else back, but privately admitted that sprinting across the quad (the weather was far too exhilarating to allow mere walking) probably affected his time. He sailed his course notes at his bunk from three meters' distance, then swung into the adjacent concession by catching the doorpost with one hand as he danced past.

  He stumbled to a stop when Poppy called cheerfully, "I was hoping you'd get here soon!"

  Sulu dashed frantic looks in all directions, expecting Coan to appear like an avenging angel and shrivel him with a glance. "What are you doing here?" he demanded in a high stage whisper. "How did you get here? This is a restricted campus!"

  The old man climbed to his feet, patting Sulu's cheek as though to soothe the ensign's distress. "Old Japanese men look distinguished," he explained. "I told them I was an admiral."

  "Oh, good God…!"

  Tetsuo followed amiably as Sulu dragged him toward the door. "They were polite before then, but they got very polite afterward. They said I could find you here."

  "Poppy…" Sulu checked both directions before leading his great-grandfather out into the hall. "I think it's a capital offense to impersonate Starfleet officers!"

  Tetsuo scoffed. "I didn't impersonate anybody," he insisted. "I didn't even give them my name!"

  "I don't think that's the point." When the door at the end of the hall whisked open, Sulu tucked Tetsuo back against the wall until he had glanced around the corner to verify the presence of a guard. A bored senior cadet wandered back and forth in front of the doorway, occasionally glancing at the inviting weather outside.

  "Where are we going?"

  Sulu put his hand over Tetsuo's mouth; the old man fell obligingly silent. "You want to be an admiral?" Sulu whispered.

  Tetsuo shrugged. "Not especially."

  "Well, do what I do anyway—and don't say anything!"

  Sulu didn't wait for Tetsuo's acknowledgment. Stepping through the doorway, he pulled his shoulders back, tucked his chin up, and strode purposefully toward the guard at the end of the hall. The cadet turned at the sound of Sulu's footsteps, waving a cordial hello as the other cadet approached.

  Returning the security guard's casual greeting with a terse nod, Sulu barely glanced at the young man on his way by; Tetsuo's friendly, "Hello!" was almost lost under Sulu's stiff, "Carry on."

  Once on the quad, Sulu relaxed his stance and turned to pull Tetsuo up next to him. "I told you not to talk!" he scolded, walking them further away from the building.

  Tetsuo shrugged, grinning. "I forgot."

  Sulu growled with feigned frustration and pulled the older man into a hug. "Maybe we can get you off on mental incompetence."
r />   Tetsuo chuckled and returned his great-grandson's hug soundly. "I've always thought that wouldn't be hard."

  "But, seriously, Poppy, don't sneak in again! You can get us both in a lot of trouble."

  "If you say so." He pushed Sulu away and started them walking again. "So how is everything?"

  "Okay," Sulu allowed. "It's only been a week—I've been too busy to have an opinion." The air gusted around them with the smell of ocean and late roses; it ruffled Sulu's hair like a warm, loving hand. "You could have called if that's all you wanted to know."

  Tetsuo didn't answer. Sulu glanced over at his great-grandfather when the older man reached inside his jacket for a tiny square of colored paper. He folded a delicate crane as they walked. "Poppy…?" The smile on the old man's face was sweet and happy, like the smell of fragile honeysuckle just before the frost. "Poppy, is something wrong?"

  Tetsuo's eyes remained fixed on his tiny work. "I'm dying, son," he said without prelude.

  Sulu wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond to that, so he only slipped his arm around his great-grandfather's shoulders and whispered, "I know, Poppy."

  "No, I mean really," Tetsuo went on. "Right now." The crane finished, he tucked it gently into another pocket, and retrieved another slip of paper. "Doctor Kobrine says the tumor's bigger. He wants to operate on me."

  Coldness swelled against Sulu's heart. "And?"

  Tetsuo paused in his folding, smiling wanly at Sulu. "I came here because I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to explain."

  The coldness closed into a painful fist. "Explain about what?" He didn't want to understand.

  Tetsuo put away the half-finished crane to take both of Sulu's hands in his own. "The operation isn't really going to help anything. It'll make the tumor smaller, Doctor Kobrine says, but they can't take it completely away because of the way it grows."

  Sulu nodded slowly. "I know that…"

  "So operating could maybe kill me. It won't make the treatments unnecessary, and it may not even slow down how the tumor grows. All it does, at best, is make it all go on a little longer."