Star Trek: Whom Gods Destroy Part 3

Who Goes There?
Or
The Mind of Garth of Izar
A re-envisioning of Whom Gods Destroy
By Gale Force
CHAPTER Five

Part One

As a perceptive Vulcan once observed, "It is far easier for civilized men to behave like barbarians, then it is for barbarians to behave like civilized men."

The same might be said, in reverse, for the insane…or at least for Garth of Izar. Oh, he was insane, but his insanity did not manifest itself in the flamboyant, openly psychotic mannerisms that he had adopted on his arrival at Elba II. He had not hidden his intentions…he would take over the universe by right of conquest…but by playing a flamboyant role he had cowed his fellow inmates and bent them to his will. By his quicksilver moods and temper tantrums he had also succeeded in reducing the respect for him of the guards and medical staff, who saw him simply as a posturing fool.

Except for Dr. Evangeline. She had listened to his monologues, to his soliloquies about the universe and his place in it…and she had believed. To her he had been as a god…she had been among the first of his converts.

And now this girl…this Katya Landau…would become one, too.

It was galling, of course, to walk among these ants, these inferiors, to have to play these roles…but it had to be done…but once he had achieved his rightful place…he would cast aside these shackles and….

"I guess I do feel a little sad," admitted Katya.

Garth blinked, and returned his attention to the girl. "What….what?"

"Well, who wouldn't, orbiting a place like this?"

"Oh, yes," said Garth, bringing himself back to the task at hand. "Elba II, home to the most incorrigibly criminally insane in the universe."

"Not even that, although that's depressing, of course. But to think that Garth of Izar is down there…"

Garth raised an eyebrow. "You've heard of Garth of Izar?"

It was her turn to stare at him in surprise. "Everybody has! Garth of Izar! We studied him at the academy."

"Not him," murmured Garth. "You studied his strategies…his battles…the famous battle of Axanar where he made his reputation."

Katay nodded. "That's true. But I've found out stuff about him since. Did you know he was actually born on Axanar?"

Garth's eyes flared briefly. "You are incorrect," he said, very quietly. "Garth was born on the planet Izar."

She shook her head. "No…no he wasn't. He was born in a little village called Izar, on Axanar."

A fin of rage poked up out of the black waters of Garth's mind. He jumped to his feet, and seizing her wrist, pulled Katya to her feet also. "Where's your proof?" he demanded.

Katya stared at him in surprise, as he punched a button that caused a computer screen to rise up out of one of the tables in the observation chamber. (They were all equipped with them.)

"Show me," he said.

"What's the matter?" laughed Katya. "Have you been writing your thesis on Garth, or something? You're not going to find the truth in the computer system. Electronic books can be rewritten easier than anything, you know."

"Yes," said Garth, with a quick smile. "That's true. That is very true. But…I must admit I am somewhat disconcerted. Of a thousand people on this ship, I sit next to the one person who knows that Garth was born on Axanar."

"Oh, no, everyone knows," said Katya carelessly.

Garth felt like he was going insane. (The irony of that feeling was lost on him.) He forced himself to speak calmly.

"How do they know? Explain this to me!"

"Well, I shouldn't say everyone," admitted Katya. "Probably just everyone in my jetpack group. The Pit Boss told us."

"The Pit Boss?"

"That's just what we call him," Katya said with a grin. "We have a weekly poker game – my jetpack group, that is – the Boss is the only one who won't play. So we just call him the Pit Boss. Anyway, his father was actually one of the marines who fought on Axanar. And he brought back a book...a printed book…they still had those on Axanar back then. And it says that Garth had been born there. I've seen it with my own eyes."

"I see," said Garth. Each word dropped like a piece of ice.

"I've often wondered who was responsible for this rewriting of history," Katya admitted. "The Federation let down Axanar badly, and then Garth came in to save the day. Saves the Federation fleet only to find out that his entire planet is destroyed, all his people, killed."

Garth was very, very still.

"So did the Federation rewrite the reference books, change Garth's birthplace, so it wouldn't seem…I dunno, quite so tragic? Or did Garth ask that it be done himself? I mean, it would have been galling, wouldn't it, everyone complementing him on his success at the Battle of Axanar, and then saying, in low tones, "too bad about the planet and your family, though. You're coping very well." So he has them change the references to where he was born, so he doesn't have to put up with that stuff."

"Yessss," said Garth.

"As a matter of fact," continued Katya, "I don't think it was his later accident that drove him mad, at all. I think it happened the day he beamed down onto what was left of Axanar. Well…the seeds of it were sewn then, anyway."

"How perceptive of you, Katya," murmured Garth, looking at her with his cold grey eyes.

Katya looked at him searchingly. "Are you alright? Don't tell me, you are writing a thesis on Garth, aren't you!"

Garth laughed. "No, not at all. But I wonder…would you mind introducing me to this Pit Boss of yours? I would very much like to meet him."

"Sure. Now?"

"Yes."

Katya looked at her chronometer. "He's off duty, too. I think he spends his time in Library Four about now. Let's go."

They turned toward the door, then suddenly Garth swung back. He watched, incredulously, as the aspect outside the rear observation window changed. The Enterprise had turned so that the beautiful green…and ironically poisonous….atmosphere of Elba II loomed large in their sights. And then suddenly it began to drop away, as the ship left orbit in a hurry.

Katya stared out with him. "That's odd," she murmured. "I thought we were here for another forty-eight hours. I wonder what's going on."

"Yes," said Garth very quietly. "So do I."

Who Goes There?

Or

The Mind of Garth of Izar

A re-envisioning of Whom Gods Destroy

By Gale Force

CHAPTER Six

Part One

"Bridge to Captain Kirk."

Even before Kirk and the others had had a chance to leave the ready room in order to give thought to their little problem, Lt. Uhuru had signaled the Captain.

Kirk punched a button on the conference room table. "Kirk here."

"I'm picking up a distress signal sir. A Federation ship is under attack."

"On my way."

Kirk stood up. "Gentlemen. Stay in pairs. Return here in an hour. Mr. Spock, you're with me."

Kirk strode to his command chair, while Spock assumed his position at his science station.

"On screen, Uhuru."

Uhuru pressed a button, and the view screen sprang to life… or rather, to death. Out of the fog of a severely damaged bridge, the beaten and bloody face of a man looked out…his shirt showing that he was a captain in the Federation.

"This is…" static…. "of the USS Red Admiral. We've been…" static. "Nothing left… no hope…. Help."

"Open a channel, Uhuru." Kirk barked.

"Channel open, sir."

"Red Admiral, this is the USS Enterprise. I repeat, this is the USS Enterprise. What is your location? I repeat. What is your location?"

Nothing.

"There communications must be out, Captain," said Uhuru. "All I'm getting is the same distress signal, over and over again."

"Spock?" asked Kirk.

Spock twisted in his seat to look at Kirk.

"The USS Red Admiral is an advance scout ship, captained by Richard Budman. Last reported location was in Sector Alpha Gamma 2.2. We are the closest starship to that location, Captain, by at least a week's travel time."

"Uhuru, do you have the coordinates from the distress signal?"

"Yes, sir, I've fed them to Mr. Sulu."

"Sulu, plot us a course. Then take us out of here. Warp factor six."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Uhuru, can you clean up that message. I want to be able to hear the whole thing."

"Working on it, Captain."

"Very good. Spock, a minute with you in my ready room, please."

As the doors closed behind them, Kirk turned to Spock. "What do you think? Could this be a trap? Something laid on by Garth?"

"Impossible to say, Captain. But I would not have thought that Garth could have orchestrated anything of this nature from Elba II."

"That's what I think, also. If he could give orders to a ship capable of destroying the Red Admiral, he wouldn't have wasted it on destroying that ship. He'd have had it come here to take over Elba II."

"Agreed , sir."

Kirk pounded his right fist into his other palm.

Part Two

"Boss. There's someone I want you to meet. This is Gus Keller."

The two men shook hands.

The Pit Boss, as he seemed to prefer to be known, was a tall, husky youth of perhaps twenty five, Garth estimated. Several inches over six feet, with the musculature of a body-builder, he noted, as the youth rose to his feet from where he'd been seated gazing into a computer screen, and gave Garth a firm handshake.

He was also wearing the off-duty uniform of a security guard, as Garth had deduced he would…if his father had been a marine on Axanar, the Boss would follow in his father's footsteps. (All off-duty uniforms still had the insignia of one's rank and position aboard the Enterprise.)

So far…so good.

Katya continued the introductions. "I told Gus about what you knew about Garth of Izar, and he was very interested."

"Katya tells me you actually have a book…a printed book…from Axanar. I wonder if I might see it."

"Uh, sure. It's in my quarters."

"I hate to impose…"

"Oh, no, not at all. I love showing it to people."

"So Katya tells me. Everyone in your…. Jet Pack….knows of it, eh?"

"That's right. I'm sure she told you my father was on Axanar."

"Yes, she told me."

Katya looked at the two men consideringly. She'd always had rather a thing for the Boss, but he was too tall. Keller, now…he was older, indeed, he was one of the oldest crewmembers she'd seen aboard the Enterprise, but he'd kept himself in great shape, and he was just the right height, and kind of handsome, too. She wanted to stick around – after all, she'd been interested in Axanar too and she was not too shabby in the stratagem department…but she had the impression that Gus wanted to talk to the Boss alone. Well, she'd let them. Time enough for her to display her knowledge and acumen later on…

"Well, I'll let you two go alone, eh?" she said aloud."I'm going to go over to the duty room and try to find out why we've left station."

"We've left station?" asked the Boss, surprised.

Katya nodded. "Just a few minutes ago."

"Weird."

Katya nodded again. She sketched a wave at Garth, who gave her a charming smile, and then she turned and walked away.

Part Three

Garth and the Boss walked down the corridor. "Katya has only referred to you as The Boss," Garth commented. "What was your father's name?"

"Rick Hubbard. I'm Vince."

"Rick Hubbard," said Garth, musingly. He had led many marines, when he'd beamed down to Axanar for hand-to-hand combat with the enemy remaining on the planet's surface, after he'd destroyed their fleet…but he didn't remember a Hubbard…he must have been on the ground prior to the invasion…prior to the destruction of Axanar…one of the Federation men tasked with protecting Axanar from the Klingons…and failing.

He had expected as much. None of the marines who'd landed with him would have found any print books still in existence…nothing had been left of his planet when he'd arrived except burned shells of buildings, scorched bodies, and Klingons to hunt down and kill.

They arrived at Vince's quarters, he pressed his palm against the hand plate and they walked in.

All the security guards lived two to a suite…but worked split shifts so that each person usually had the rooms pretty much to themselves. So it was on this occasion.

"Have a seat," said Vince. "Would you like a drink?" He waived his hand at the dispenser set in the wall. Garth went over and filled a cup full of Pepsi as the big security guard went to a bookcase. A bookcase, filled with archaic, print books.

Instead of sitting down, Garth went over and looked at them. "It's been a long time since I've touched a paper book," he murmured, running his left hand over the spines gently.

"Not many people have," said Vince, glancing at Garth in surprise. He drew out one of them. "Here it is. The book from Axanar. A History of the Royal House of Gaveston."

Garth took the book in fingers that trembled a little. Of all the books the Boss might have had, he had not expected this one. In its pages was almost the whole story of his life, of how he'd been a peasant boy, saved the life of Baron Simov's son from a runaway horse, been taken into the royal household as a reward and had grown as close to Simony as to a brother. How he had left Axanar to join the Starfleet Academy, while Simony had stayed behind.

That's where the story ended, too, for this book had been printed a couple of years before the battle of Axanar. The publishing house had decided to honor him when he had graduated from the Academy quicker than any cadet had ever done it before. The book had ended by predicting a bright future for him… Garth blinked away tears, and then looked up to find Vince staring at him.

"You okay?" asked Vince.

"Do you…" Garth began in a tight voice. He stopped, swallowed, and started again. "Do you know the story…of the destruction of Axanar?"

"What do you mean?" asked Vince cautiously.

"Not the battle of Axanar. The destruction before it. The destruction in which your father undoubtedly died."

Vince's face froze. "He did die on Axanar, yes. When the first wave of Klingons attacked."

"Do you know how it happened?"

"Yes," said Vince quietly. "I know how it happened."

Garth spoke, as if reciting a funeral dirge. "The Federation promised to protect Axanar, and its mining resources, from the Klingons. There was a squadron on station in that solar system. A whole squadron, under the command of the brother of the President of the Federation himself, Admiral Dixon Welles. And then the Klingons launched a feint that shouldn't have fooled the greenest of lieutenants, and Dixon Welles detached himself and half his squadron to meet it. Then the Klingons came in and overwhelmed the remaining ships, and then they beamed down to the surface of Axanar and they systematically destroyed it!"

"You're…uh…you sound very passionate about this…" said Vince, looking at him closely. "Did you lose someone on Axanar, too?"

"I lost everybody," gritted Garth. "And I use that word with precision. And what happened to Dixon Welles, eh? Nothing. Nothing! He retired on half-pay and was assigned to a cushy job at a space station at the other end of the galaxy, where he lives now, in luxury."

"I'm sure he thinks about what he did every minute…" said Vince uncertainly.

"That's not enough," Garth barked. "Even if it were true, that's not enough! But it isn't true. If he felt any guilt about what he'd done that day, he'd have committed suicide long ago to make amends. But he continues to live…and laugh…and love."

Vince drew himself up to his full six foot six frame, and stood in front of the door to his quarters, as he realized that something was very, very wrong here. "Who are you?" he asked hoarsely.

Garth flung back his head. "I am Garth of Izar."

Vince stared at him, knowing it was true. "But…but…how did you get off the planet….?"

Garth came closer to Vince, who simultaneously shifted his feet into a karate stance. The huge, muscular man had no fear of the smaller one.

Garth relaxed control over his face, and the molecules shifted and dissolved.

Vince's eyes widened in horror and he turned his face away, clamping his lips together and swallowing convulsively.

"Look at me," said Garth, reaching out to turn the other man's face back to his. "Look at me! My parents! My sister! My brother! My wife! My people! Do you think any of them looked better than this, when the Klingons were finished with them?"

Vince shoved him away, but instead of trying to leave the room he strode further into the room itself, covering his face with both hands.

"What do you want from me?" he demanded from between his hands.

Garth breathed deeply, fighting for calm, and brought his face back to its usual, handsome appearance. "The Federation was supposed to protect them. Your father was supposed to protect them. You owe me a debt."

Vince balled his hands into fists and whirled on Garth. "My father died trying to protect your people from the Klingons! All his squadron died!"

"That's right, Vince. That's right. It's retired Admiral Dixon Welles who owes us all. And I think he should be made to repay it."

"But….but…" Vince looked at him uncertainly. "You're….this is an insane asylum…"

"I'm not insane, Vince," Garth said quietly. "Far from it. But the President knew that I was going to seek out his brother, eventually…and he framed me…he had me sent here to protect his brother."

That was a good story, Garth thought. And clearly Vince was believing it. And it was true, as far as it went. He did intend to kill retired Admiral Dixon Welles, as one of his first acts when he got command of a starship…he'd been working his way around Dixon Welles' station, in the course of fulfilling his duties….before the accident…before Antos IV.

"What do you want me to do?" asked Vince.

"Captain Kirk knows I'm on board. He knows I can change my face – as you have seen. He is doubtless taking precautions. He will have someone with him at all times. A security guard. I want you to be that security guard."

"No," said Vince, incontrovertibly. "I'll do a lot for you, but I'm not going to betray my captain."

"That is no more than I would expect from you," said Garth, calmly. "Kirk is a tremendous captain, isn't he?"

"Yes, sir," said Vince.

Garth nodded. "Vince, I'm not asking you to betray him, in the way you mean. He will not be harmed. No one on this ship will be harmed. All I'm asking is that you help me get to some kind of an outpost where I can get off this ship, and get on another one. That's all I ask."

"But…so why do you want the captain?"

"Because, should I assume his shape, it will make it all the easier for me to get to that outpost."

"But you won't harm him?"

Garth nodded. "You have my word, Vince. No one aboard this ship will be harmed, if you help me. The first man I'm going to kill is Dixon Welles."

Vince took a deep breath. "O…kay. Okay then."


Who Goes There?
Or
The Mind of Garth of Izar
A re-envisioning of Whom Gods Destroy
By Gale Force
CHAPTER Seven
Part One

Captain James T. Kirk regained consciousness in a heartbeat. He remained unmoving, however, as he tried to assess what was happening. He was sitting…in a chair…from the way it felt to his body he knew it was his chair, in his own quarters. He didn't need to try to move his arms lying on the armrests to know that they were secured, he could feel the tightness of the straps on his wrists. His legs were free, however.

What had happened? The Enterprise had been warping along towards what remained of the USS Red Admiral, with an estimated arrival time of 18 hours. He'd decided to get some sleep… he'd need to be rested and refreshed to deal with both a madman loose on his ship and some unknown aliens going around destroying Federation starships…

He'd been walking along the corridor to his quarters with a security guard…but he'd never made it…what the hell had happened?

He strained his ears. He could hear nothing…or could he…no one was moving about…but was someone breathing?

Kirk opened his eyes. They widened only slightly when he saw himself sitting opposite him, smiling cheerfully.

"We meet again, Captain Kirk," said the apparition.

"Captain Garth."

"You will address me by my proper title," said Garth/Kirk. "I am Lord Garth, master of the universe."

"You look like a captain to me," said Kirk.

Garth/Kirk's forehead creased, as he tried to figure out if Kirk were trying to insult him. Then he laughed mirthlessly. To Kirk, the world seemed to turn inside out, and then he saw Garth of Izar sitting in front of him, clad in the simple blue tunic of the scientist.

"You…" Kirk tried away to swallow away the dryness in his mouth… "you're very good with that little trick. How do you do it?"

"Cellular metamorphosis," Garth said. "Taught to me by the Antosians…"

"But…you can't be controlling your clothing as well?"

"Oh, that. No, that's another little trick I taught myself…we don't need to discuss it. What I want to know is this. Why has the Enterprise left orbit? Where is she going?"

"Don't you know?"

Garth's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I'm asking you."

"We received a distress call. The USS Red Admiral has been attacked…destroyed. We're en route to their last known location, in Sector Alpha Gamma 2.2. How long have I been…here?"

"Four hours."

"Then we're fourteen hours away."

"I see," said Garth, musingly.

Garth gazed at Captain Kirk speculatively. His story had worked with the Boss…would it work with Kirk?

"I want you to read something, Kirk."

Garth pointed a device at Kirk's left hand, and the restraining strap released. Kirk glanced down at his wrists, and saw that he was restrained by straps used by his own security people. Someone had punched holes through the fabric of his favorite chair in order to do so. When he got out of this predicament, he'd allow himself to be annoyed by that.

Garth tossed him a print book, which Kirk caught awkwardly. "Read the marked passages."

Kirk did as he was bid. Then he looked up. "This doesn't match what the Federation has on file about you."

"No, it doesn't. But that's the true story."

"Yes…yes, I believe you." Kirk looked at him with compassion.

"I'm not insane, Kirk. I never was. But as you doubtless know, retired Admiral Dixon Welles, the man responsible for the debacle which I thenhad to go in and salvage, is the brother of the President of the Federation. He suspected…rightly, I grant you… that I wasn't going to let his brother get away with his incompetence. So he had me framed."

Kirk blinked at him. Didn't the man remember five minutes ago, when he'd instructed him to call him Lord Garth, Master of the Universe? But even if that happened…Kirk had a lot of respect for Donald Cory, governor of Elba II, and Cory believed Garth to be mad.

"If what you say is true, Garth…" began Kirk.

"If?" said Garth dangerously.

"Then I'll help you. But you can't hijack a starship…"

"Can't?" said Garth again.

"Yes," barked Kirk. "If! Can't! Do those words infuriate you so?"

Garth took a deep breath.

"And if they do, it doesn't mean I'm insane, damn you. It just means I'm used to people following my orders."

Kirk nodded. "Yes, I understand. Well, I'm telling you, this is my ship…."

At that precise moment, there was a beep and Lieutenant Uhura's voice filled the room. "Bridge to Captain Kirk."

Smilingly, Garth punched the button, even as to Kirk, the world seemed to turn upside down again, and then Kirk was looking at himself. "Kirk here," said Garth, grinning at his captive.

"You're needed on the bridge immediately, Captain. There's…."

Suddenly, the ship rocked violently, and Garth/Kirk almost fell out of his chair. It rocked again. Garth knew what that meant – they were being hit by torpedoes!

The door to the living room of Kirk's quarters slid open, and the Boss strode in. "Captain…" he began. He stopped, looked at Kirk imprisoned in his chair and Garth/Kirk standing.

Garth/Kirk grabbed a phaser from his belt. "I'm Kirk, sergeant," he barked. "That's Garth in the chair. Now, take me to the bridge."

The ship rocked again, so violently that the Boss and Garth were flung against the bulkhead like ragdolls. The red alert sirens began to shriek.

"Garth!" Kirk yelled. "Let me go! They're blowing apart my ship!"

Garth of Izar swore viciously, even as he resumed his own form. He could not deny the captain a chance to protect his ship. He deactivated the other restraint. As three, Kirk, Garth and the Boss raced for the bridge.

It was a difficult journey. The Enterprise was being hit by torpedo after torpedo. Smoke and fire filled the corridors. Damage repair crews swarmed here and there. The Boss put his bulk to good use, running interference for the two captains behind him. Finally they reached the Bridge.

Spock jumped out of the command chair and Kirk slipped into it. Spock glanced at Garth and an eyebrow raised as he assumed his own seat.

"What's going on, Spock?" Kirk demanded.

"We were attacked from long range, Captain. Our sensors spotted incoming torpedoes, but they came in too fast. We are too slow, and too immobile. We are being beaten into submission, and there's nothing we can do."

"Who's attacking us?"

Sulu put it on screen without being bid. The ship was neither Romulan nor Klingon. But whatever it was, it was killing them.

Kirk pounded the button to Engineering. "Scotty, what's the status down there?"

Scotty's voice came coughing. "We're dead in the water, Captain. No power to the warp engines at all. We've barely got enough power left to run essential systems."

"Right. Hang in there, Scotty, Kirk out."

Kirk turned to Sulu. "Status of our weapons, Mr. Sulu."

"Photon torpedoes are out sir. Phasers are offline…it will take at least thirty minutes to repair them…." Replied Sulu.

"Not that it would do any good," Chekov said, sotto voce.

"Uhura, open hailing frequencies," barked Kirk.

"Hailing frequencies open, Captain."

Garth was impressed by the calmness displayed by the Enterprise crew. They were seconds away from death and they must now it, yet they were going about their business as if it were an everyday occurrence. Did they have so much confidence in their captain, then, that they believed that even now he'd be able to do something to save them?

Two aliens appeared on the view screen, ugly (to human eyes) lizard like creatures.

"This is Captain James T. Kirk of the starship Enterprise," began Kirk, and then Kirk felt a hand on his shoulder, as Garth came to stand beside him.

"And I am Fleet Captain Garth of Izar," said Garth, loudly. "In command of the Enterprise at the present time. What are your terms?"

"Terms, Garth of Izar?" laughed the lizard. "You are beaten. One more launch of torpedoes and your ship is blown into millions of pieces."

"I don't deny what you say…yet you haven't blown us apart yet, so you must want something. Therefore, I ask again, what are your terms?"

"Complete surrender. You must beg for our mercy, and perhaps we will extend it to you."

The other lizard made a noise that sounded like laughter.

"We don't beg for anything," snapped Garth.

"Oh…you will beg, Garth of Izar. You will beg. We beam you over to our ship, you surrender, you beg."

"If I beam over to your ship, you let the Enterprise go free?"

More laughter from the lizards. "They do not die…yet," said the leader.

"You have attacked a starship of the United Federation of Planets. Do you really want a war?"

"If your Enterprise is an example of the starships you have, why should we be afraid of a war?" laughed the lizard.

Garth's shoulders shrank, defeated, even as his eyes continued to dance around what he could see of the bridge of that alien ship. All starship builders, regardless of race, seemed to put the same kinds of instruments in the same kinds of locations….

"Very well," he said. "I will beam over to your ship."

"Garth…." Said Kirk.

Garth turned to face him. "Thirty minutes, Kirk," he said meaningfully. "All you need is thirty minutes."

"The wessel has lowered its shields," Checkov reported. "They're activating their transporter beam."

Garth shimmered and disappeared, and the view screen of the alien ship snapped off.

Kirk brought his hand down on his communication console. "Scotty. Get to the transporter room now. Now."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Chekov, you said thirty minutes for phasers. Do it!"

"Yes, sir."

Spock came to stand beside Kirk's command chair. Kirk glanced up at him.

"You don't think Garth planned this?" Spock asked.

"There's no way he could have," Kirk said, definitively. "With a ship like that at his command? He never would have messed around trying to hijack the Enterprise. No, whatever those things are, they're acting on their own."

"Scott here," came Scott's voice. "I'm in the transporter room, Captain."

"Scotty, in about thirty minutes something's going to happen. I want you to be ready to get a fix on the bridge of that other ship. You're going to need to beam Garth of Izar aboard as soon as possible."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

They waited. Damage control reports flowed in from all over the ship. Damage repair parties went out to do what they could."

Kirk knew what Garth was going to try to do. Hell, they all knew. Nevertheless, he gave Sulu the order. "Keep your sensors on their shields, Sulu. Let me know the instant they come down."

For that was Garth's plan. That had to be Garth's plan. Beam over, stall for time, then, either as himself, or metamorphosizing himself into a lizard, he'd find someway to cut the shields of that alien ship. And once he did so…

"Phasers back on line, Captain," Chekov shouted joyously.

"Sulu, status of their shields?"

"Their shields are fully operational, Captain. Our phasers will bounce off them like peashooters."

"Wait for it, Sulu."

Five minutes…ten….then Sulu shouted. "Their shields are down! Their shields are down!"

"All phasers fire," Kirk ordered. "Scotty, get Garth out of there!"

Without shields, a starship is as vulnerable to a microscopic meteorite than as to a phaser. The Enterprise's phasers darted outward, targeting every vulnerable spot Sulu and the weapons control room could think of, from what looked like engines to their phaser and torpedo capability.

"Direct hits," shouted Sulu. "Like a knife through butter. She's going to blow!"

And indeed, within a very few seconds the starship opposite them had disappeared into a white hot fireball.

Kirk hammered the communication console again. "Scotty."

"Captain."

The jubilation on the bridge quieted abruptly, as they all heard the sound of failure in Montgomery Scott's voice.

"Captain…I was never able to get a fix on him…I tried to beam the entire bridge crew aboard…but nothing came… I lost him, Captain."

Kirk took a deep breath. "It's okay, Scotty. It was a long shot. Get back to the engine room, you've got a lot of work to do there."

"Aye, aye, captain."

Kirk punched another button.

"Captain's log, stardate 1205.72. The Enterprise, en route to answer the distress call of the USS Red Admiral, was attacked and disabled by an unknown alien ship. Fleet Captain Garth of Izar gave his life, in order to rescue us all. …. Kirk out.

Kirk brought his hand down on the log button again. Mad or not, Garth had died a hero. And that's how he would be remembered.

Star Trek: Who Goes There? part 2

Who Goes There? Or The Mind of Garth of Izar
A re-envisioning of Whom Gods Destroy?
By Gale Force
CHAPTER Three
Part One

While Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock made their way to the bridge, Lt. Parker activated the com-link to the surface and requested that the force field be lowered.

In Dr. Cory's command center, Dr. Evangeline bit her lip. This wasn't supposed to happen. Garth…or Dr. Cory!…he was the only one who should be requesting that the force field be lowered…and that only so that he could have her beamed up to the Enterprise!

Should she refuse? No, that would only create suspicion. If Garth had been captured…but he couldn't have been…but…but…if he had been captured….then she had to insure that she appeared innocent…so she'd be free to provide help if needed in future…no one on the planet suspected her, or even knew what was going on, for that matter…she had nothing to fear if she just kept calm.

"Lowering the force field now," she said, and pressed the appropriate buttons.

The six red-shirted security guards shimmered into life in front of her. One of them, a woman wearing more hash marks on her sleeves than the others, stepped forward. "I'm Lt. Agatha Parker," she said. "May I ask who you are?"

"Dr. Evangeline," she replied. "What's the matter? What's happening?" she didn't try to keep the anxiety out of her voice.

"We have reason to believe that the inmates have taken over the asylum," said Lt. Parker. Behind her she heard a snigger. She coughed. "I mean to say, we need to inspect the facility. Do you know where the inmate Garth of Izar is being kept?"

Evangeline's heart sank. So, something had gone wrong.

"I can show you, certainly. But you're quite wrong. Look, I can show you from here."

She indicated a rack of monitor screens, and pressed button after button. "Here are all our patients." She stressed the word, patients. "As you can see they're all…they're all…"

"What's the matter?" demanded Parker sharply.

"That man in Garth of Izar's cubicle…" Evangeline said… "that's not…that's Dr. Cory."

Parker peered at the screen. There was indeed a man in the cubicle, who matched the photo her Captain had shown her. Of Asian descent, in his sixties, he stood with arms folded, gazing out into the corridor.

"There's a man on the bed, too," commented Parker.

Evangeline squinted. "Yes, I see him. That's one of our security guards. That's Al."

"What about the rest of the in..I mean…the patients?"

Evangeline made a show of looking carefully at each monitor. "The rest are where they should be. And you can see from these buttons," she indicated, "they're locked in. It's only…but I don't understand. I saw Dr. Cory just a few minutes ago! He beamed up to the Enterprise with the Captain and a … a Mr. Spock I think his name was."

"Everything will be made clear in due time," said the lieutenant. "Captain Kirk would like to have a little chat with you in a few minutes. For now…Tyler, Logan, you remain here with Dr. Evangeline. The rest of us will go get Dr. Cory and bring him here. And Al."

She turned to Evangeline. "Can you give me a key to the cell?"

"The cubicle," Evangeline corrected automatically. "I, yes, here." She handed over a little black device, about the size of a communicator. "It opens everything. Just point and press."

"Right. Thanks."

In a very few moments, she and the rest of her team had returned to the control center with Dr. Cory and the security guard. Parker opened her communicator.

"Parker to Captain Kirk."

"Kirk here."

" The facility is secure, sir. Only Garth of Izar is missing. Dr. Cory and Dr. Evangeline are with me now."

"Donald," came Kirk's voice. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, Jim," Cory said, though his voice was tired. "I must speak with your urgently."

"Right. Prepare to beam up."

"But what about the force field?" demanded Evangeline…. "what about…"

"Lieutenant Parker, choose someone to remain behind with you. You'll have to get in touch with the medical staff there shortly, in any event," Kirk spoke briskly. "The rest of you beam up. Then, Parker, activate that force field again."

"Yes, sir."

She flipped closed her communicator. "Wade, you're with me. The rest of you, prepare to beam up." She flipped open her communicator again, this time for the transporter room. "Beam 'em up, O'Dell," she said.

And within seconds, she and ensign Ben Wade were alone in the command center.

Part Two

Every starship captain has a ready room just off the bridge, where he or she can meet with his officers and crew in a more private atmosphere than the bridge itself, while still remaining close to that heart of the starship.

Kirk, Spock and Dr. Cory were in the ready room. They had already interviewed the security guard, Al, who had explained that he'd been making his rounds as usual when he saw Dr. Cory in the cubicle of Garth of Izar, looking beaten and bloody. He'd rushed in, and that Dr. Cory had risen up and struck him. And that's all he knew.

Cory had then given his story. He'd been in the command center, the door had slid open, and he came face to face with himself. And then he, too, remembered nothing more. Garth must have equipped himself with Al's phaser. The next thing he remembered, he had waked in the cubicle, with Al lying unconscious on the bed.

Dr. Evangeline gave her story next. Dr. Cory had approached her, and told her that the starship Enterprise was nearly there. He was going to give her in charge of the medicine she was inspecting. That Cory had acted completely normal, completely sane…she had no reason to suspect…

Al and Evangeline had then both taken their leave, escorted by security guards. Al to sickbay, to have a thorough check-up to ensure there were no lingering after-effects from being knocked unconscious, and Dr. Evangeline to guest quarters where she would remain until they found Garth of Izar.

When they were alone, Kirk looked at Cory.

"Tell me abut Garth, Donald. How can he change his form at will?"

"You know what happened to him, don't you?"

"Pretend I don't," said Kirk. "Tell me the whole story."

Cory shrugged. "He was taking his ship to Vomisa IV for a refit, when he received a distress call from a mining colony. His was the only ship in range, so of course he went to their rescue. It was a rogue mining colony. People had come across an asteroid full of …" Cory gestured… "some valuable metal….I forget now what and it's not the point. They'd settled there and began mining, and it was an unstable asteroid. It started to disintegrate, and the lives of a hundred people were at stake."

Kirk nodded, grimly.

"The metal was such that it was impenetrable to the transporter. The only way to rescue those miners was to go in physically and drag them out…the asteroid disintegrating around them all the time. Garth would never ask a crewman to do what he himself would not do…" Kirk nodded, approvingly…. "and so he led the rescue party, along with a group of volunteers."

Cory spread his hands. "The rest you know. Garth and his men saved most of the miners. Garth was still in one of the tunnels, trying to get out the last of them, when it collapsed, crushing him. The men he'd been trying to save abandoned him, rushing to the surface and safety. A few of his own people went back into the tunnel and dragged him out, but he was near death.

Garth's crew loved him, as I'm sure you can appreciate. They knew the only way to save him was to break protocol, to take him to the forbidden planet, Antos VII, where the Antosians could save his life. And they did so, by teaching him cellular metamorphosis…. which enabled him to restore the destroyed parts of his body..including his face."

"Yes….I saw his face…"

Cory nodded. "From there….it must have been a natural progression for him to realize that he use that knowledge to recreate himself as anyone he wanted to be."

"Re-create himself," murmured Kirk.

Cory nodded. "They saved his life, but they drove him mad."

"Perhaps," said Spock, "that is part of the cause of his insanity. Anyone who can change themselves to look like anyone else they please…it would be difficult not to become a megalomaniac."

"And that's the form Garth's madness takes, eh?" asked Kirk.

Cory steepled his fingers. "It's true. Garth's goal is to take over the entire universe. He styles himself, "Lord Garth" now."

Kirk blinked at him. "The entire universe?"

"It could be done," said Spock judiciously. "If he could have taken the Enterprise to Earth, sought out the President of the Federation, and replaced him….he would effectively be in control of much of the known universe."

Cory smiled wanly. "That's your Vulcan logic coming to the fore, Mr. Spock. But unfortunately you are wrong. Garth doesn't want to assume control of the universe, he wants to take control of it. By violence. He wishes to assemble a fleet of starships and destroy everyone who stands in his way. Conquest by war…that's what he intends."

"Destruction for the sake of it," murmured Kirk.

"Exactly. Some burgeoning hatred…something…is driving him to destroy …I could never get him to speak to me of anything…personal…it was only his goals of conquest he would freely discuss. Drugs, medication, nothing could break the block into his unconscious mind…I failed him…"

"Only up until now, Donald," said Kirk. "We'll find him, we'll give him that new drug, and he'll be on the way to being himself again."

"I hope so, Jim. But that doesn't change the fact that right now, you've got a megalomaniacal madman running around the Enterprise, with only one goal in mind. Destruction. No one on board this ship is safe."

Kirk nodded, face grim. "I know, Donald. I know."

Part Three

Garth of Izar walked into the Observation Room, stopped just inside the door, and assessed possibilities.

There were a handful of people in the room. A man and woman were sharing drinks at a corner table, another couple were gazing into each other's eyes in a different corner table…. And a woman sat alone at the observation portals in the rear of the room, gazing out into infinite space.

Garth walked over to the drinks dispenser and checked the choices. A variety of soft drinks…no alcohol. Did Kirk run a dry ship, then? Or did he just not allow it in the Observation rooms?

Garth chose two Pepsis… a favorite tipple of his since his Academy days, and then carried the small cups back toward the rear of the room, which was one vast expanse of glass and darkness beyond.

He stopped beside the woman. "May I join you?" he asked.

She looked up at him, and smiled sweetly. "Sure."

Garth sat down next to her, and held up a glass to her. "I hope you like Pepsi."

She smiled again, and took it. "Thank you."

Garth leaned back into the softness of the chair and stared out into the darkness…and at his face, reflected in the glass…it seemed as if his entire face were spread out over the universe…like that of a god.

Who Goes There? Or The Mind of Garth of Izar
A re-envisioning of Whom Gods Destroy
By Gale Force
CHAPTER FOUR
Part One

The woman – she was a Lieutenant, Garth noted – sipped her Pepsi. Then she held out her hand to him. "I'm Katya. Katya Landau."

He smiled. "I'm G…us. Keller. Gus Keller."

"Hullo, Gus," she said, and then turned her attention back to the stars.

Garth noted that she looked rather sad. Was she one of those people who liked to look at the stars because it made them feel in their place, with regards to the universe? Small and infinitesimal?

"What are you thinking?" he asked her, gently.

She grinned. "I was thinking of a poem.

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth

And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;

Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth

of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung

High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,

I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung

My eager craft through footless halls of air...

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue

I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace

Where never lark nor even eagle flew—

And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod

The high untrespassed sanctity of space,

Put out my hand, and touched the face of God."

Garth stared at her, shocked.

She looked at him curiously. "What's the matter? Don't you like poetry?"

"Yes," he said quickly. "It's just…I had been thinking of something similar, only a few seconds ago." But he knew that she had not been thinking what he was thinking…that he'd like her to be touching his face. So odd, that she had been thinking of that…

"The stars make you think of god," he said, carefully.

She grinned. "Oh, no. Not at all. It's just that I've become addicted to jet aerobatics. Every time we're in orbit around a planet, a group of us put on our spacesuits and jetpacks and go out and just soar among the stars. There is nothing quite like it. But we're not allowed to do that here, and it's just so disappointing."

Garth threw back his head and laughed.

"What's so funny?" she asked, prepared to enjoy the joke.

"I was amused, because I had completely misinterpreted your expression, that's all. As I said, some people look at the stars and think they are god, some look at them and think of how small they are…and you look at them and wish you could go out and play among them."

Katya laughed, but inwardly she felt a bit puzzled. Why would looking at stars ever make someone think they were God? She didn't bother to ask, though. This man was fascinating her. Handsome, self-confident…but something curiously vulnerable about him…

She nodded at the stars outside the glass. "Do they inspire you to poetry?" she asked.

Garth turned to look out at the stars once more. He'd long been an aficionado of the Earth poet, Shakespeare…. Very slowly he said, "I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams."

Katya's face sobered, and here eyes looked at his face searchingly. "Yes," she said, quietly. "You don't sleep very well, do you?"

Garth stared at her again. One hand went to his face. How could she know that?

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I just… are you okay?"

Garth brought his hand away and smiled a brilliant smile. "I'm bored with the subject," he said. "Let's talk about something else."

Part Two

Kirk, Spock, Scotty, and Security Chief Clay Barker were in Kirk's ready room, and Kirk had just finished laying out the situation to them.

"We've got a man on board who can assume any form he wishes. Me, Spock, one of you…presumably even a woman. He could be anyone. Now, how do we find him? Bearing in mind that I want as few people as possible to know this. If the crew thought that I or Spock could be an impostor at any time… morale aboard this ship would break down in a heart beat."

Barker nodded. "What steps have you taken so far?

"Since Garth escaped the transporter room, neither Spock nor I have been out of each other's sight. So I know that we two are who we say we are. I want you to assign a security guard to each of us. We will go nowhere alone. If we are ever found alone, we get clapped in irons, no exceptions."

Barker nodded again. "You think he'll come after you or Mr. Spock?"

"Yes. Either me, Spock, or any of the command crew. I'll want a security guard assigned to each of them as well. No exceptions."

"Would it do any good to distribute a photo of him as he looks now?" asked Barker. "I mean, as he normally looked, when he was in custody here?"

Cory shook his head. "I doubt it, Chief Barker. For example…" he punched up, on screen, the same photo that the false Doctor Cory had shown Kirk and Spock on their initial visit to the command center. "That, for example, isn't Garth of Izar at all – his bodily shape, let alone his face…and yet that is the only photo in our databanks now. Garth must have substituted it when he took over my office. As for the face he had before the accident…he looked nothing like that when he came to us, so that won't help, either."

"Pity," said Kirk. "All the more reason why none of the command crew is to be left alone. Ever. He may come after any of us and there's no way of knowing what shape he'll assume. Even if he uses his…let's just call it his "real face", for the sake of argument, there's no way to recognize him."

"There is one thing," mused Donald Cory. "Garth…has a temper… which he is quite unable to control. Any slight, real or imagined, anyone who does not pay due deference to him as lord of the universe…and he is quite likely to go berserk."

Kirk leaned forward with a concerned expression on his face, as his heart sank. He didn't like the thought of a madman running loose on the Enterprise, but he had believed that however mad he was, he would not make the mistake of attacking the general crew…that only the command crew would be his target.

"Do you think that's likely, Donald? That he'd attack and harm an anonymous crewmember? When he must know how important it is for him to stay…well…invisible?"

"There is that," Cory nodded. "He is able to control his mania for periods of time. If he is pretending to be a …well, an anonymous crewmember…he likely will not become offended if someone treats as an anonymous crewmember."

Kirk breathed a sigh of relief. "That's what I'd thought."

"Why does this madman have to go after anyone at all?" asked Scotty. "All he has to do is pretend to be a crewman. The next planet we reach that has passenger freighters, he jumps ship and away he goes."

Kirk shook his head. "No one is getting off this ship until we find Garth, Scotty. And he must know that. He's trapped on board the Enterprise as surely as he was trapped on Elba II."

"Unless he finds a way…initiates a way…for it to be necessary to evacuate the ship," mused Spock.

"Thank you for that cheerful thought, Spock," commented Kirk.

Spock gave one of his patented shrugs. "We are dealing with Garth of Izar, one of the most…if not the most, brilliant starship officers the Federation has ever had. We must be prepared for anything."

Barker cleared his throat. "How about this?" he said. "We beam every crewmember down to the planet. You said yourself that his disguise can't withstand the transporter. Once they've beamed down successfully, they're paired with another, real crew member. Eventually, everyone has beamed down. Sooner or later, one of them will be Garth, and I'll have a security team on the surface, waiting for him."

"There are over a thousand people on board this starship," Spock commented. "The buildings in the colony below can house….perhaps….three hundred. No more."

"As we clear the crewmembers, we beam them back on board using one of the auxiliary transporters," Barker said. "Then we quarantine them, in pairs, in their quarters. Easy."

Kirk grinned wryly. "Easy," he said. He got to his feet. "Barker…it's a good plan. Time consuming, and with so many steps involved that errors can creep in. But I think, if implemented properly, it is the most proactive thing we can do."

Barker smiled. "Thank you, sir."

"Opinions, Mr. Spock?"

Spock steepled his fingers. "As you say, Captain, it will be time consuming, and with so many steps…it is indeed prone to error. Between the transporter room here, and the transporter room on the planet, and the auxiliary transporter rooms…and think of this…it may not work. What occurred earlier, when Garth was revealed to us. It may just have been that he had not realized that the transporter would rearrange his molecules as it did… but what if, now that he knows that, he can counteract it in future?"

Kirk grimaced. "Another cheerful thought, Spock. Thank you."

"My pleasure, Captain."

"Let's take a break for one hour," Kirk said. "When we reassemble, I want solutions that will actually work. Barker, call in a couple of guards for Spock and myself, please. We are in an urgent situation, but we can spare an hour to do some thinking. In that period of time, Garth isn't going to be harming anyone. He has no reason to, and every reason not to."

"Unless he feels himself trapped already," pointed out Spock, "and begins to assemble hostages immediately. Collecting bargaining chips to be used later, if the need arises."

Kirk gritted his teeth. The thought of his crew in danger…. And them not knowing they were in danger…

"The situation just keeps getting better and better," he said grimly.

Kirk/Garth Slash - Whom Love Destroys

Three stories in one day! Another story I wrote many years ago. This one is a stand-alone, not really connected to the other Garth stories I'm sharing.


Whom Love Destroys
By Gale Force
Another note: The entire episode isn't reproduced here. Just selected scenes with a new slant..

Part I – Queen to Queen's Level Three
The U.S.S. Enterprise entered orbit around the prison planet Elba II.

"Captain's log, stardate 5718.3. The Enterprise is orbiting Elba II, a planet with a poisonous atmosphere where the Federation maintains an asylum for the few remaining incorrigible criminally insane in the galaxy. We are bringing a revolutionary new medicine to them. A medicine with which the Federation hopes to eliminate mental illness for all time. I am transporting down with Mr. Spock, and we are delivering the medicine to Dr. Donald Cory, the governor of the colony."

Captain James T. Kirk pressed a button to turn off the recorder. He then gazed at the green, noxious looking planet on the viewing screen. To think…to think…that Garth of Izar was trapped down there, incurably insane…

Mr. Spock was completing a few duties at his station. Uhuru had just finished transmitting their arrival message to the facility's governor, Dr. Cory, and they'd received permission to beam down. Now, she'd be sending an announcement of their arrival to Star Fleet command, then continue monitoring subspace communication in the area.

Sulu and Checkov sat at their consoles, relaxing after bringing the ship into proper orbit. They were also gazing up at the projection. Kirk wondered what they were thinking about. For himself, he always felt a cold grue whenever he had to perform one of these missions. Prison planets for the incurably insane…insanity…how horrible that must be… and to have happened that to Garth of Izar…a man he'd admired for decades…a man whose life he'd patterned his own after…it was inconceivable.

Kirk shivered a little...if it could happen to Garth of Izar, it could happen to anyone.

His command chair beeped. Kirk glanced down at the pad, then hit a button. "What is it, Bones?"

"I've finished work on the vials. If you're ready to go, I'll bring them down to the transporter."

"Very good, Bones. Scotty's already there, waiting to beam us down."

"Mr. Sulu, you have the con," said Kirk, as he and Spock headed for the elevator. "Scotty will be up here as soon as we've beamed down."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Just as they were about to enter the transporter room, McCoy arrived, and the three men walked in together.

"Here you go, Jim," Bones drawled tiredly, handing him a small container which held two vials. "Took me the whole danged trip, but I got what I needed."

Kirk accepted the vials, and passed them over to Spock. He looked at the doctor critically. McCoy had spent most of the journey attempting to synthesize some more of the drug for his own purposes. The Federation had only given them two vials, and McCoy had wanted to do some experiments of his own.

"You look out on your feet, Bones," Kirk said.

The doctor nodded. "Think I'll grab a couple of hours sleep. If you two think you can get along down there without me."

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow and was about to say something, when Kirk forestalled him with a grin. "We'll try to struggle along, Doctor."

"I'd like to be present when they administer the drug to a subject."

A subject? Thought Kirk. Garth of Izar – the most famous starship captain the Federation had ever had, a subject? Well, but that was how Bones looked at things. Coldly, clearly and analytically, when it came to patients and medicine.

"We'll talk with Cory, see what his schedule is. I know he's anxious to put this experimental drug to work as quickly as possible, but there'll be plenty of work for you down there, I'm sure."

McCoy nodded.

Kirk turned to Scotty. "Okay, Scotty. Let's use a chess password this time."

It was McCoy's turn to raise an eyebrow. "A Chess password?"

"Standard procedure, Doctor," commented Spock. "Whenever a starship approaches a prison planet, or one in the throes of martial conflict, and crewmembers beam down to the surface, a password system is utilized, to prevent unauthorized personnel from gaining access to the ship by hiding behind the landing party."

McCoy pursed his lips. "Sounds like a good plan."

"The sign will be "Queen to Queen's Level Three," said Kirk. "And the countersign, Queen to King's Level One."

Scotty nodded. "Very good, sir."

"You should do that all the time, though." McCoy said musingly. "Who knows when some martial conflict might not break out on a previously peaceful planet, as we have good cause to know."

"Suggestion noted, Doctor," Kirk said with a grin.

Kirk and Spock stepped onto the transporter pads. McCoy waited to see them dematerialize, then he and Scotty walked out of the transporter room. Scotty continued on to the bridge, McCoy to his quarters, where he slipped into bed without bothering to shuck his uniform.

Part II – The Passion
Kirk lay on the not-uncomfortable bed in a fetal position. One part of him disliked appearing so vulnerable, but he was in so much pain that appearances could no longer be considered. That chair…that torture chair…had done its work well.

But this pain was no more than he'd deserved. He'd let Dr. Cory suffer through that chair for minutes…he could do no less.

He forced himself to breathe through gritted teeth. Don't fight the pain, go with it…let it flow….let it dissipate…

Jesus…

Suddenly, he felt gentle hands on his shoulders…a cool hand caressing his face. He forced his eyes open and saw the green-skinned Orion girl, Marta, seated beside him, her dark eyes liquid with concern.

"You're in so much pain," she whispered.

There was a different note in her voice…it sounded low and concerned…and sane.

"Just a bit," he gritted.

The girl laughed. A low, tinkling, understanding laugh. "Always the stoic captain," she whispered. "But in the privacy of your own room, you can let go…seek some comfort…"

She bent down, and brushed her lips over his hot face.

Cold, soothing lips… and her hands, cool…making the pain go away.

Kirk began to return her kiss…

Incredibly, the pain was dissipating…evaporating…as he lost himself in her kiss and her embrace.

He was able to move again, and seemingly of their own volition his hands moved to embrace her, feeling her cool flesh. He had never felt like this before, with any woman he'd ever been with… it was incredible… how could this poor insane girl make him feel so alive…he couldn't…he musn't….she was making the pain go away…he reached upward to slip off the straps of her dress…

Garth of Izar had not intended to kiss Kirk at all. He had assumed the shape of Marta and had intended to help Kirk escape, bring him to the command chamber, and have him give the countersign that would enable him to get off this hell-hole and out into the galaxy where he belonged.

But he had felt strangely touched, when he'd entered the room to find Kirk in a fetal position. He'd watched, unmoved, when he'd been inflicting the torture on this man, in that chair, but now here was the aftermath.

He'd moved across the floor as lightly and gracefully as a dancer, sat down next to Kirk, placed his hands very gently on those arms…and felt the musculature beneath the shirt. Kirk kept himself in shape. And he was burning up.

Garth's mind was a welter of colors, and sounds, and shape. All together it was a cacophony, a kaleidoscope, that no one but he could hear or see..he had to make it stop. He focused his mind, brought it to bear very gently on Kirk's, as he rubbed his hands softly over the man's shoulders and chest.

He felt Kirk's body relax as the pain went away, he felt Kirk's desire for this woman's body…he leaned down and kissed him on the lips…

And felt…pleasure…Kirk was embracing him, gently, comfortingly also, and kissing him, for a few seconds the colors, the sounds, the shapes, they seemed to fade away…

And for a second his concentration slipped…

Kirk's eyes widened as he realized he was kissing not Marta but rather Garth of Izar. For a few seconds he continued on, lost in the pleasure of it, but the sheer shock of seeing the psychotic Garth just a few inches away was too much.

Shock..anger…even fear…

The impulses lashed over Garth, and the tender emotions of a second ago were washed away as if they had never been.

He got up, grinned at Kirk…his monomaniacal, charismatic grin, and then he walked jauntily from the room.

Behind him…even as the pain returned, Kirk was thinking of the pleasure he'd gotten out of that embrace.

Part II – The Shapeshifter
Kirk and Spock sat in the recreation room, sharing a cup of coffee as the Enterprise headed for its next destination at Warp speed.

"You have sent your report to Star Fleet, captain?" asked Spock, musingly.

"Not yet. I'll be writing it up later this afternoon."

"And I expect Dr. Cory will be submitting his own report."

"I expect so. What are you getting at, Spock?"

"I am concerned for Captain Garth's safety, sir."

Kirk leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

"Captain Garth can assume the shape of any person he wishes, at any time. He could assume the shape of the President of the Federation, or of any ruling body."

"Yes, and that had been his plan, eh? But with that new drug…aftera few more doses, he'll recover hus sanity…"

"What is sanity, Captain?"

"Well…"

"In any event…the question is not whether we think he is sane, or even whether the Federation does. The question is…will they fear his power?"

"His shape-shifting abilities, you mean? Well, frankly, I don't think there's a problem. There are retina scans, thumb prints, voice matches. Garth may be able to assume their form, but those minute little details…they'd trip him up…"

"Garth is not a shape-shifter."

Kirk stared at him. "Explain."

"A shape-shifter would be someone who can shift his shape into any design he wishes, granted. But Garth did more than that. His clothing changed as well. I think it is rather obvious that he does not shift his own shape. He controls other people's minds, so that they see what he wants them to see. Perhaps he does it unconsciously, perhaps it is an adjunct to the shape shifting, but the fact remains that he must be able to control people's minds."

"I see," murmured Kirk.

Spock nodded. "Now that he is no longer… raving mad…he may be able to consider his abilities in a sane light. If he realizes the extent of his powers…who knows what he might do? If he can refine that power…"

Kirk sipped his coffee. He was remembering, back in that cell, how Garth had made his pain go away. At the time he'd just thought…the power of a woman's touch…and then, just the power of Garth's touch….but now…

Garth…he thought. I want to be in your arms again…

Kirk finished his coffee. "Point noted, Mr. Spock. I'd better go write that report."

The Madness of Garth of Izar

Whom Gods Destroy

By Gale Force
Introduction – The Prime Directive
Today, it is axiomatic that no member of the Federation can interfere in any way with the indigenous inhabitants of a planet. Indeed, the inhabitants are never even know that the Federation exists, unless and until they develop spaceflight capability of their own.

It was not always this way.

It was the events that happened on the planet of Axanar, and its aftermath, that caused the development of the Prime Directive.

Here is that story.

Part 1 – The Discovery
Axanar was, and in a sense still is, a Class-M planet in a small, out-of-the-way solar system, a little closer to the unexplored territory of the ever-expanding Federation than the unexplored territory of the ever-expanding Klingons.

Axanar had, quite independently of Earth, evolved from its own Stone Age to Bronze Age to Iron Age, to the Medieval Age. As with most planets on which humanoid forms resided, the history of their interaction was warlike. For decades various nobles – in the southern hemisphere, - had fought each over over land, and their religion, and so on, until one man had achieved the power to establish hegemony over the rest. The kingdom was called Izar, the man who ruled it, King Gaveston. At his side throughout his battles had been his efficient General, Simov, who was really responsible for most of Gaveston's victories – his command of strategy and more, implementing that strategy, was masterful.

When peace broke out, Simov retired and was given estates near the village of Chaels by the grateful king. Being a literary man, with lots of time on his hands now, despite an ever growing family, he wrote histories of the battles, and books explaining tactics. The southern hemisphere was united under Gaveston's rule, but the peoples of the northern hemisphere were not to be trusted…the martial arts had still to be practiced.

Young Garth was a peasant lad, who lived with his family in the village of Chaels. The village was adjacent to the King's Forest, and in the distance, from Sunrise Hill – as Garth called one of the nameless hills that surrounded his village – he could see the spires of the Castle that was the residence of Baron Simov.

Every morning, Garth got up in darkness to do his first chores of the day, quickly and efficiently, and when they were done he would set out on a race, a race to beat the sun to the top of Sunrise Hill. And he always won.

From that hill he stared at that castle so far away, for as many minutes as he could before his duties called him again. He had no dream of becoming a lord and sitting in idleness on a velvet throne…it was people he longed to see – people he didn't know, the travel away from his village, to places he didn't know like the back of his hand, and events that he wanted to have happen, different, something different, something unexpected... instead of the same old routine that was life in small Chaels. He loved his family, and his friends, but one day he would journey away from his village. One day he would set out to explore all of Izar..and then, all of the world!

One night, when Garth was eight years old; and when all were asleep in their homes, a fireball might have been seen streaking through the sky, and hitting quite near the village of Izar.

Of course, hitting is not the right description, but that is perhaps what an untutored eye would have made of it. The shuttlecraft, disguised now, had made a pinpoint landing. Within, three members of the merchant marine arm of the Federation, in their grey jumpsuits, fixed themselves coffee. The leader of the expedition sighed.

"I hate landing at night. All the sensors in the world don't mean squat. We could still hit something."

The second man shrugged. "Orders. We stay incognito until we find out if there's anything worth having here."

"Anything worth having?" rapped the third man, drinking his coffee with fingers that trembled. "I never saw such readings. This planet is a miner's paradise. We're going to be rich."

"We still have to check the readings. Our technology isn't perfect. We've been wrong before."

"Technology," scoffed the leader. "How long have they been promising us some kind of beam…some kind of matter transporter, so we don't have to take a shuttle down to planets like this, but can just, you know…he snapped his fingers…like that."

"Never going to happen," said the second man. "It's just not possible. Someone's writing science fiction."

After a good night's sleep, for at least two of the men, the Federation explorers donned rough garb and exited the shuttle craft. Taking what to today's eyes would be a primitive tricorder, they made their way carefully through the deserted landscape, just south of the village of Izar, until they came to a series of gorges which looked as if they'd d been gouged out of the land by a giant, running his finger through it. Each man held a tricorder. Each tricorder went crazy.

The three men slapped each other on the back and laughed exultantly.

"Gentlemen, we're going to be rich," said the third man. "Let's get back to the ship and send in our claim right now. In another few years…"

The three men cast their eyes over the peaceful scenery. "In another few years, this will be home to the sweetest mining equipment you ever saw. We'll bring technology here so fast, the digs (short for indigenous) won't know what hit 'em."

"We can't take off until tonight." Cautioned the second man. "No need to panic these people until we're ready to take over."

The three men returned to the shuttlecraft. The leader and the second man passed the time away watching videos or reading…the third man simply lay in his bunk, eyes on the ceiling above him, dreaming of what he'd do with his riches.

It was going to take a few years, of course. Travel those many years ago did not take place at the greater warp speeds of today. It was a six-month's journey back to the nearest Federation outpost, and from there they'd have to go through all the red tape of laying claim to the mining rights of the planet, and establishing their business plan to ensure the digs were well-compensated for the mines that would completely alter their way of life… but soon…very soon… he'd be rich.

Part II – The Castle
The King of Izar was come!

Every year, the King made a procession to one or more of the castles he had gifted to the nobles who had helped him establish his kingdom in the War. While the king was in residence, the entire village was allowed to come into the castle, and watch various events – now that soldiers were no longer needed to fight wars, they fought for the entertainment of the populace. There would be much food, much dancing, much entertainment.

Garth was so excited he felt as if he would burst.

He and his family were in the last cart heading up the road to the castle, through the King's Forest. Garth had started out by running alongside the cart…he'd been too impatient to ride and thought he could run all the way to the castle. After all, he could run all the way up Sunrise Hill! But after an hour he'd been exhausted and climbed into the cart to rest, and marked in his mind a few lessons he would always remember – don't be impatient, and don't overestimate your abilities. He rested his head on his mother's shoulder and tried to ignore his sore feet.

There was not room enough within the castle for all the villager, of course, so pavilions had been set out on the lower greens, for the peasants to congregate and sleep. There was free food and free entertainment there as well.

Garth spent the day between his mother and father, holding on to the hand of his sister, as they watched all this glorious pageantry unfold. He did this because his feet felt too sore for him to go anywhere!

But the next day, he received permission to wander around on his own. There were no worries – the whole village was there and they knew Garth and he knew them. And he knew better than to go inside the castle buildings, his parents knew. He would wander in the vast grounds, and be perfectly safe.

In one section of the castle grounds, a barrier had been set up, so that two knights on mounts (the equivalent to Earth horses) could ride along and tilt at each other. (It was similar to the way it had been done on Earth, and indeed on all M-class planets where human spores had come to rest.)

Garth gazed up in awe at the huge beasts, so easily controlled by the tiny men who sat upon them. He was going to have one of those beasts someday, he promised himself.

Garth gazed around, trying to find a better vantage point from which to see the jousting. As he looked, he saw a group of boys wander into an inner courtyard, laughing. They must be the sons of nobles, he deduced, dressed as they were in silk finery. And there..there was a column with a flat top on which he could sit. Garth strode toward it quickly.

As he stood balancing on top of the column, he only vaguely listened to what was occurring in the inner courtyard. It seemed the boys had tired of watching the joust and wanted to hold one of their own. They were persuading the groom of the stables to let them ride two… Garth didn't understand the word, but presumably they would be younger and smaller versions of the great mounts that the knights were riding.

There was much laughter, one of them pitched higher than the others. Garth turned to look behind him. A young boy, about four or five, he guessed, was on one of the mounts, holding on for dear life as his friends held him upright in the saddle.

Suddenly, for no reason Garth could see, the beast reared up on its hind legs, and the boys holding onto it fell away. The boy on top of the beast screamed and held on tighter. The scream seemed to frighten the animal, it reared again and then started running toward the open space, out into the outer court where the jousting was going on. In its madness, thought Garth, the beast would run straight into the joust, and the boy could be killed, if he didn't fall off first and be trampled.

Garth had only a few seconds to think. Should he jump on the beast's neck, try to drag it down? Should he jump for the boy, knock him off the beast, and cushion the fall with his own body? The beast ran by, the child screaming in fear, though he still held the reins. Garth launched himself into space, landed behind the boy on the saddle, and reached around him for the reins. He hauled on the reins with his right hand, instinctively knowing that this would cause the beast to turn right. As indeed it did, avoiding the two great beasts and the mass of people in the center of the courtyard.

Now, how to stop it? Oblivious of the screaming around him, from the spectators, from the knights whirling their mounts around to see what was happening, from the child in front of him, Garth pulled backwards on the reins with his left hand. His right was useless, he was using it to hold the child in front of him so he should not fall off at this great speed, even as his knees gripped the great beast's flanks in desperation.

If only he could use both hands…

But the creature was driven by fright and continued its flight. It swerved past the spectators and out of the gates of the castle ground itself.

What could he do, Garth wondered desperately. Perhaps just keep the beast going in a circle around the castle until it tired itself out? Desperately, he hauled right on the reins again, and indeed the beast turned to the left, even as it seemed to speed up.

Then, incredibly, Garth heard hoofbeats. On his left, and on his right, two other mounts, ridden by the knights who had been jousting, appeared. They each grabbed at the reins, and in a few short seconds the mount had come to a halt.

The knights dismounted. One of them grabbed down the child, the other roughly caught Garth by the arm and flung him to the ground from that great height. "Villain!" cried the knight. "You attempt to kidnap the son of Baron Simov?"

"I didn't," yelled Garth, getting to his feet, only to be knocked down again. He took the momentum of the shove and rolled a few feet before rising again, balancing on the balls of his feet. "The beast was trying to run away! I was trying to stop it!"

"Yes, leave him alone," piped up the child, running to Garth's side and grabbing his hand. "He saved me!"

The knight took a deep breath. "I beg your pardon, boy."

At this point, the rest of the spectators arrived….as did Baron Simov, his wife and the boys who had been in the inner courtyard. They all explained what they had seen, even as Garth's parents came to stand at his side.

Finally, Baron Simov approached them.

"Your son did a brave thing, and he very likely saved the life of my son. I would like to reward him by taking him into my household. He will be my son's squire."

The eyes of Garth's parents widened at this signal honor, and Garth himself could hardly contain his joy.

Part III – The Friendship
Great changes had come to Axanar in the last ten years since Garth had entered the household of Baron Simov.

It had started out slowly enough. First, Garth did not become Simony's squire, but rather his friend, as close as a brother. This was because Garth displayed such physical ability, and such quick intelligence, that Simov himself took the boy under his wing, teaching him all he knew about tactics, and warfare, and the knowledge of the enemy. Garth became a knight himself, embracing the arts of war and mastering them – both the physical and the tactical.

But that was not all. Garth, born to charm easily and without effort, got along with everyone, peasant and noble alike. Though there might have been ill-feeling among the other children of the nobility in the household, it vanished within minutes of meeting Garth. He was too big for anyone to try to bully, and too intelligent for anyone to try to verbally abuse him, and once they got to know him they were friends for life. Garth in particular found favor with the girls in the household as well..which might have caused some unpleasantness except he found himself falling in love so quickly with Issobel, daughter of Simov's brother, and she returned his regard. The other girls sighed and turned their attention elsewhere.

So charming was Garth that Simony even made a joke about it, one day. "I swear, Garth, you could charm the whole world into deposing my father and making you King. You could be Lord of the Universe."

Garth had laughed, and said, "I like that idea," and indeed, for the next several weeks the children of the castle played that game – Garth as lord of the universe, Issobel as his queen, and the other children as his subjects.

And as the children grew, the technology on Axanar grew as well, for the Federation arrived. Shuttlecraft landed behind Gaveston's castle, and ambassadors from the Federation explained who they were and what they wanted. They showed all their technology, and how it worked, and they promised to bring Axanar into the twentieth century.

Two hundred years of cultural education and evolution in ten years…

The kingdom of Izar embraced the newcomers, and the technology. The nobles benefitted the most, of course, as they were well compensated for the loss of their land, and the peasants quickly learned to use the mining machinery, and the interiors of their homes were soon filled with electricity, and refrigerators, and television sets. The video, the motor-car…the Federation brought the people of Axanar along gradually, believing that the technology level of the 20th century (rather than the 23rd) would be sufficient for their needs. Nothing was done for the people of the north, who had no minerals of interest to the Federation, so they remained where they had been, and whispered about witchcraft and devils when they saw the aircraft in the sky over Izar.

One day, Garth and Simony took their motorcycles out to ride along Simov Gorge. What there was of it still open to be ridden. Much of the gorge was covered by mining machines. Indeed, only the mining machinery was 23rd century, and the peasant/miners knew that technology was being kept from them, but at this point they little cared.

Garth, at age eighteen, had hit his height, just a little over six feet. He was broad shouldered and muscular, with sandy-brown hair and grey eyes that could glow like ice. His nose was long and straight, his lips well-formed, his chin had the shape that showed he was determined. He had worked, with the aid of various of Simov's courtiers, to acquire the knowledge of etiquette that a man of the court would require, and many was the maiden whose heart had been torn asunder, by his absolute, almost savage martial prowess on the tournament field, and his courtly manners and gentleness in the banquet hall and at the theater.

And Garth had embraced the new technology as it was offered. He particularly enjoyed the videos, the plays of great authors such as Shakespeare of Earth, Tebbroc of Altair IV and Metaxa of Orion.

"If I were not a knight, I would be an actor," he had told Simony once. "Imagine…as an actor you can be …well, anyone you imagine! Ruler of the world! Of the universe!"

Garth looked at Simony now. The little boy whose life he had saved those many years ago was now a mature fifteen. He bestsrode his motorcycle and looked out over the gorge at the beautiful mining facility with a savage look on his face.

Garth knew exactly what the boy was thinking, and it weighed heavy on his heart.

"Have you heard the latest news, Garth?" Simony said angrily. "The Federation is to send a fleet here to guard us! The Klingons are making noises that Axanar belongs to them. My planet belongs to them?"

"No, it doesn't belong to the Klingons, Simony," Garth said calmly. "It belongs to us. But we need the protection of the Federation. Surely you see that. Otherwise the Klingons will just…come in…"

"Just like the Federation did," Simony said bitterly. "We had no choice then, either. And now the Federation is coming in force…to protect us, so they say. If they had not come here to mine our ore, none of this would have ever happened. We would continue to live in peace. Now we must live in fear."

"Don't be silly, Simony," Garth said bracingly. "The Federation would never let anything happen to Axanar. We are too important to them."

Simony grimaced. "So you say, Garth. And so they say. But look what they have done to Izar. All this technology…in so short a time. There are three prisons here now. Three! Where once we had no crime, now not a day goes by that someone doesn't try to steal something. That is what their civilization has done to us. I don't like to look at my people anymore. They have such…such a look in their eyes. This technology has come too fast…they…there's something wrong with them…their minds are touched."

"Simony…you must not distress yourself so. Such would have happened anyway. With the peace of Izar, we were beginning to develop our own technology, weren't we? All this would have happened eventually, and these changes …they still would have happened."

"It's happened too fast," Simony said obstinately. "My people don't know who they are anymore. Or where they are. And the Federation. These people from the Federation…telling King Gaveston what to do, ordering the nobles around, as if they were not of noble blood…and who are they - they are just peasants!"

"Nothing wrong with being a peasant, Simony," Garth said with a grin.

Simony punched his best friend in the shoulder. "Yes – those with merit should be raised to the highest ranks. But these Federation people…they wish no ranking at all. They have a democracy." He almost spat the word. "The next thing you know, they'll demand that Gaveston abdicate and declare Izar a democracy too. All the castles will be raised to the ground and office buildings built in their place."

"They would not do that," Garth said, confidently. "They have the mining rights, that's all. They can not alter the way we live."

"They've already altered it," Simony shouted. "All this technology, these luxuries, dropped in our lap! We didn't earn any of it, it just appeared. And if you don't earn what you have, you don't appreciate it, do you? Or understand it. You know that, Garth. You spent ten years in my father's court, learning how to be a nobleman."

Garth shrugged. "You under-estimate our people, Simony. They can learn, too."

Simony just grimaced and kicked a stone away from his boot.

Garth took a deep breath. Now was perhaps not the time… but…

"Simony... You remember how we used to talk of travelling all over Izar? Now, now, because of the Federation…we can travel throughout the entire universe."

Simony froze suddenly. He knew his best friend very well. "Garth…what are you saying?"

Garth tossed out his hands. "I am going to ask your father to recommend me to the Space Academy."

"You mean…you mean…you're going to leave Izar?"

"I will never leave Izar, Simony, you know that. I will carry it always in my heart. But…I want to see the galaxy. I want to see…everything…"

"You're going to leave Izar?" Simony repeated… "You're going to leave me, my father? You'll even leave Issobel?"

Garth flushed. "I will leave Issobel only for a time. Once I have graduated from the Academy, I will send for her. I have talked to her about this."

"So I am the last to find out?"

"I knew you would take it like this, Simony. But consider. As the son of Simov, you are assured a place in the Academy too. In just another three years, you'll be able to join me!"

"I will never leave Izar," Simony said, very quietly.

"You say that now," Garth said, also quietly, "but in three years you will change your mind. The whole galaxy is before us, Simony. People we've never met, places we've never been to. We can go anywhere."

"To find yet more planets full of mineral wealth? To take over those planets, and destroy the people and their customs, with no regard for them at all?"

"No," said Garth. "To keep them safe from the Klingons. Just as I will keep Axanar safe."

"You can't be keeping Axanar safe if you're off exploring the galaxy, Garth."

Garth grinned. "Once I prove my mettle, I can and will request an assignment to the Axanar fleet."

"And so you'll fly in your little tin can around the planet, day after day after day, keeping us safe from the Klingons?"

Garth shrugged. "I do not believe in defensive action. If the Klingons say they are going to take Axanar, we should bring the battle to them, not wait for them to attack us. That would be foolish."

"You speak as if you are already a captain! You'll be a space cadet on board a ship, with no authority at all."

Garth's chin went up just a little bit. "I will be a captain, Simony. Quicker than any cadet has ever made it. See if I don't."

Simony actually managed to laugh. "You'll be the best starship Captain the Federation has ever had, Garth. I don't doubt that."

"And you'll join the Academy too."

Simony's smile faded. "I'll never leave Axanar," he repeated. "You keep us safe from the Klingons, Garth. I'll keep us safe from the Federation."

Part IV – The Destruction of Axanar
Garth of Izar attended space academy. The vast majority of cadets graduated at the end of four years, Garth did it in three. His skills and abilities were that impressive.

Although he requested an assignment to the squadron of ships guarding the quadrant in which revolved little Axanar, this was not granted. The Federation had bigger plans for him.

The Klingons were massing all along their borders with the Federation. And when the war began, Garth's ship was in the thick of it, and he quickly proved his mettle as a tactician.

Still, he had only just been promoted to captain, and could not be everywhere.

The war was going badly…and then someone blundered. The Klingons made a show of weakness near the Axanar quadrant, and the commanding officer of the squadron decided to risk half that squadron in removing the Klingon menace. It turned out to be a trap.

With half the squadron destroyed, the half that had remained in station about Axanar were no match for a full Klingon squadron that swooped in and decimated them…and Axanar itself.

Garth was in frequent contact with his family there – his parents, Simov and Simony, and his beloved Issobel. It was not instantaneous transmission, however. The messages took several weeks to travel between the planet and the starship. The messages were delivered to him by one of the communications officers on a little chip.

The first Garth heard of the loss of Axanar was when he received a message from Star Fleet command, ordering him to report there at all speed. It was a generic message – sent out to all star fleet captains that were anywhere near the area. Years afterward, his first officer could still remember the shocked and horrified look that passed over Garth's face when they received the order. It had vanished within a second to be replaced by his normal "Captain's face," but the first officer knew right then and there…or so he claimed later… that that was when Garth first looked over the abyss and into hell.

A couple of days later, Garth received two messages on chip from Axanar. One was from Simony, and one was from Issobel. They had been several weeks in the transition.

He took the chips to his quarters, and played the one from Simony first.

The transmission was snowy and crackly…the Klingons were trying to jam all signals emanating from the planet. But the wealthy could buy the most powerful equipment in the universe, and everyone in Izar was wealthy. Simony's face looked into his.

"They attacked three hours ago, Garth," he began without preamble. "The Klingons. They landed on Axanar and started massacring us! You want to know where your damn Federation is?" He held out his hand to reveal a pulse rifle. "No where! That's where they are. These are all we have to stand against us and those Klingons you were supposed to protect us against!"

Simony's voice had risen to a shout, now he stopped, swallowed, wiped his eyes, gave that little boy smile that he had first given Garth all those years ago, "You're my new brother," he'd said then…tears ran unchecked down Garth's face.

"Sorry," whispered Simony. "Sorry. It's not your fault. It's the damn Federation's fault. Well we shall fight them as long as we can. But I'm sending you this message, Garth. Avenge us. Avenge Izar."

A loud noise caused Garth to jerk back…the sound of a door being kicked inward. Simony looked once more into the camera screen. "They're here," he said quietly. Then Simony's back was to the camera, and he raised his arms as if to fire his rifle, and then his back hit the camera as if a projectile had struck him with great force, and the screen went black.

Without wiping away the tears; with trembling fingers, Garth inserted Issobel's chip. He braced himself for her words…a reproachful look, a wish that he was there to save her…but she said none of that. Her face, too, stared at him out of snow. She was so beautiful, and her face was proud and without fear. Her voice was steady. "The Klingons are here, Garth, they're killing everybody. I'm going to try to take mother and the children (Issobel was a school teacher) to the caves. Perhaps we'll be safe there. We'll wait until…" she paused here. Was she about to say, "Until you come to rescue us."? She didn't say it. Instead she said, "We're going now. I love you, Garth. I'll love you forever."

And the screen went blank.

Garth sat staring at it for a long time.

Part V – The Battle of Axanar
As the fleet swept toward Axanar, Captain Garth put together a plan of attack. He then beamed over to the fleet captain's ship (for by this time the transporter had been perfected), handed that captain the plan, and told him that that was how they would recover Axanar and drive back the Klingons.

The fleet captain, who knew very well that Garth was from Axanar, took the plan and looked at it, and saw that it was innovative, and bold, and daring, and would take split-second timing among the entire fleet to work. But he also knew that it would work.

And so it did. As you know the Battle of Axanar has gone down in the history books as one of the famous starship battles of all time, and is required reading at the academy. The ground battle on Axanar equally well known…the battle that Garth himself led, from the front, with a pulse rifle and phasers slung across his chest on a bandolier.

After the battle, Garth went alone to the caves in the gorge of Marimba. His heart was in his mouth every step of the way. But he found no one in the caves, and no evidence that there ever had been anyone there. Issobel, her mother, and the children had never made it there. Their bodies were never found.

Part VI – The Madness of Garth of Izar
After the Battle of Axanar, the Klingons retreated back into their own space and a truce was called for some years. Garth's exploits at the Battle were detailed, and as well all know, became required reading at the academy. Because the planet was called Axanar and Garth styled himself as from Izar, few cadets realized the tragedy that had been Axanar for Garth of Izar. Indeed, he requested that Star Fleet command remove from his biography that he had been born on Axanar, and state that he had been born on a planet in the Epsilon Boötis system.

At this time, with the threat of the Klingons out of the way, the Federation should have retired Garth, perhaps sent him to teach at the Academy, but he would have none of it. Garth led the way for the Federation's exploration of more and more parts of the galaxy. His fame as an explorer became legendary…he was the prototype starship captain…and the rulers of the Federation believed that he had been able to accept the tragedy of Axanar as just…one of those things that happens in war.

Garth did find out the name of the man who had been in command of the Axanar squadron, and if he'd felt any rage when he discovered the man had not been brought up on charges, but rather had simply been relieved of his command and sent to an obscure outpost far, far away, he did reveal it.

But his explorations over the course of the next several years drew him closer, ever closer, to that outpost.

Then his ship received an SOS from a colony on Algol 3. Miners had dug too deep, and set off the unstable planet. It was disintegrating around them. In addition to the inhabitants of the colony, thirty miners were trapped below ground. The metal ore in the planet was of a kind that made it impossible to beam the miners up – Garth sent shuttlecraft down to the planet, and because of the extreme danger of the mission he himself took command and took only volunteers with him.

Three shuttle crafts filled with rescued miners managed to leave the planet. Garth himself chivvied the last few trapped miners ahead of him when the tunnel walls collapsed on top of him. Garth had been invincible for almost 50 years…he had never questioned his belief in his invincibility, but when he looked up and saw tons of rock bearing down on him…when he looked around and saw the miners running away without regard for him…that belief shattered, and was not to be remade even when he later learned that his own crewmembers from the shuttle had come once more into the mine to rescue him, and bring his maimed and shattered body to Antos IV, where he was healed in body…but not in mind.

The madness took hold when he returned to his starship, the USS Thunder Child, and sat in the command chair. An all-consuming desire to "take over the universe" manifested itself, a megalomania, and for some reason he decided to turn his rage on Antos IV to start with. At first his crew went along with his orders, for they were devoted to him and could not believe that he could not have good reason for what he was doing, but it was like a switch had been turned on, as if his agony in the mines of Algol had caused his mind to take refuge in some world of his own making, in which he had the power of life and death over everyone in the universe. He was quite unable to control himself or even act as if he were in control of himself, and his executive officers took the steps to arrest him and lock him in his quarters, from which he was not removed until they arrived at the first insane asylum in which he was placed.

Finally determined to be incurably insane, he was sent to Elba II (so named after the island where the Earthman Napolean Bonaparte had been sent after his defeat at the battle of Waterloo), and there he was to stay.

But Garth had been taught by the Antosians not only how to manipulate the molecules of his own body, but also how to manipulate men's minds, and he would use that power in an attempt to escape from Elba.

His subsequent defeat, ironically but perhaps appropriately at the hands of Captain James T. Kirk, the new "fair-haired Captain" of the Federation, who was starting to be talked about in the same breath with Garth, are chronicled in the starlogs as "Whom Gods Destroy."

Star Trek: Who Goes There? part 1

I'm ready to get back to writing on this story, but I need to refresh myself with the characters. That'll take another week or so. So I'm sharing a Star Trek fan fiction story I wrote a few years ago.

"Whom Gods Destroy" was a third season episode of Star Trek. A favorite actor of mine, Steve Ihnat, played Garth of Izar, a Federation captain who is severely injured and goes insane.

Who Goes There? Or The Mind of Garth of Izar
A re-envisioning of Whom Gods Destroy?
By Gale Force

CHAPTER ONE
Part One

Dr. Donald Cory, governor of the colony and mental institution located on the inhospitable planet of Elba II, walked down hallways toward the command center. His boots made no sound on the tile floor…there were no clicking echoes from the walls. He moved in complete silence, like a cat.

There was no one to hear those echoes, even if there had been any. Elba was run by a skeleton staff of ten individuals, with Cory at their head. New staff were rotated into and out of the colony every year…lest they succumb to the various ills that working in such a remote location could engender. Donald Cory was not one of those who needed such coddling, however. He was dedicated to his profession, and enjoyed the solitude. He left the colony only at rare intervals.

A new staff had arrived just a month ago…and even now they were busy reviewing patient histories, or conducting their own medical experiments, or having a social hour in the dining room or lounge.

Except for one staff member, who had been suitably impressed to meet one particular inmate of the mental institution -- its newest one…. She had her instructions and would be following them.

Cory's right cheek puckered, briefly, in the very slightest of grins, then all expression was wiped from his face.

He entered the command center and the door slid shut behind him. He gazed around the room thoughtfully. Black panels with flickering lights lined the walls. In one corner was a large desk with a computer screen in front of it. There was one large window, and on the other side of six inches of plate glass the poisonous green atmosphere of Elba II seethed and pressed.

Cory stopped and looked into one of those black panels, and saw a face reflected there. A lined, sixty-ish looking face, yellow skinned, dark almond eyes. His face? No…for a few seconds grey eyes gazed back at him….cold as ice…that was his face…don't forget!

Cory glanced at the chronometer on the wall…if Evangeline was correct, and of course she would be…the starship was due within the hour.

Cory sat down at the desk, and punched a few buttons on the keyboard. He knew all the passwords – Evangeline had told him.

Ah…here were the records. The starship was the U.S.S. Enterprise, commanded by Captain James T. Kirk. The Enterprise…. Cory mused. He had heard of it. Kirk was one of the most renowned of the new generation of Star Fleet Officers, and he had a First Officer…a Vulcan… the first Vulcan to ever serve with a human crew. At one point….Cory blinked a couple of times as the wheels of his minds meshed for a second…at one point, he had wanted to meet this Kirk….who had often been talked about as inheriting the mantle….his mantle…..Cory blinked again and the thought skittered away back into the recesses of his mind.

He flicked over to the regulations governing contact between a starship and a penal or mental colony, and read quickly. His gaze stopped on one line. "Special procedures when dealing with such colonies include the use of a sign/countersign before beaming up, to ensure that no unauthorized personnel can leave the colony."

Cory's lips twitched again, very briefly. He had suspected as much.

He would be prepared.

Part Two
The U.S.S. Enterprise entered orbit around Elba II.

"Captain's log, stardate 5718.3. The Enterprise is orbiting Elba II, a planet with a poisonous atmosphere where the Federation maintains an asylum for the few remaining incorrigible criminally insane in the galaxy. We are bringing a revolutionary new medicine to them. A medicine with which the Federation hopes to eliminate mental illness for all time. I am transporting down with Mr. Spock, and we are delivering the medicine to Dr. Donald Cory, the governor of the colony."

Kirk punched the button to turn off his log, then glanced at Lt. Uhuru. "Open hailing frequencies."

"Hailing frequencies open, Captain."

"Elba II, this is James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise. We have just entered orbit."

The face of Dr. Donald Cory appeared on screen. He was smiling.

"Captain Kirk."

Kirk grinned. "Donald. It's great to see you. We're ready to beam down."

Cory didn't miss a beat. "Jim. Excellent. I'll lower the force field."

"Looking forward to seeing you, Donald. Kirk out."

It was one of the yearly duties of the Enterprise to deliver stores to Elba II, as well as medicines, and Kirk and Cory had become friends. On this occasion, only medicine was being delivered.

Kirk and Spock entered Sickbay. Doctor McCoy looked up tiredly from his desk.

"Bones. How are things?" asked Kirk.

An epidemic of Variaega Flu had broken out on planet Debulon V, and doctors in starships and planet-side throughout the systems had been working on devising medicine for it. Doctor McCoy had been spending the last week doing so.

"I sent off my formula by subspace radio just an hour ago," said McCoy. "They'll be able to synthesize it on Debulon and start inoculations within the next six hours. I'm still waiting to hear that it works."

"Of course it will work, Bones," said Kirk, bracingly.

McCoy smiled tiredly. "Nevertheless, I want to remain here until I hear. Give my regrets to Dr. Cory, will you?"

"Oh, we won't be leaving here for a couple of days, Bones. You and Cory will have plenty of time to discuss these new procedures."

"It could be a great day in medical history," Bones mused. "Medication found that will cure Variaega Flu…and medication found that can relieve criminal insanity, each tested on the same day."

Spock's eyebrow rose and he seemed about to speak. But he decided to leave his comments on the possibility of curing criminal insanity unsaid. Now was not the moment.

Kirk picked up the vials that Bones had waiting for him, and then he and Spock continued toward the transporter room. Ensign O'Dell was at the controls.

Kirk punched a button.

"Scott here, sir."

"We're beaming down now, Scotty. Recognition code Chess Problem."

"Chess Problem, aye."

Kirk and Spock assumed their positions on the transporter pads, and Kirk nodded at O'Dell. O'Dell worked the controls expertly.

The two shimmering columns of light solidified into Kirk and Spock, in Cory's command center. Kirk blinked as it took, as usual, a couple of seconds for everything to snap back into place. Then he reached out and shook hands with Donald Cory.

"Donald."

"Jim. Mr. Spock. I'm glad to see you. I've a new staff since the last time you were here. I'd like to introduce Dr. Evangeline, one of my aides."

Kirk turned and extended his hand to the rather lovely, middle-aged woman who stood there, clad in a light-blue medical uniform.

Cory handed her the case. "Evangeline, my dear, please take this to the laboratory."

Evangeline inclined her head, took the case, and left the room.

Cory turned back to Kirk and Spock. He punched a couple of buttons.

"The force field is back in place now." He said cheerfully. "That means you two are trapped here. And I'm not accepting any excuses for you not dining with me."

"We'd be delighted." replied Kirk with a smile.

"You indicated one additional inmate since our last visit," interpolated Spock, "making a total of 15. Is that correct?"

"It is. The rehabilitation program isn't progressing too well. And I have my doubts about the effectiveness of this medicine too."

"Why, Donald," said Kirk. "Are you becoming a pessimist?"

Cory grinned. "I'm afraid I have."

"Who is the new inmate?" asked Spock.

"Garth," said Cory. "Garth of Izar, a former Starship fleet captain."

Kirk froze for a moment. He had known that the famous Garth of Izar had now become criminally insane, but for some reason it hadn't occurred to him he was so far gone that he'd been transferred to Elba.

Very softly he said, "When I was a cadet at the Academy, his exploits were required reading. He was one of my heroes."

Cory stared at Kirk with narrowed eyes. He then punched a couple of buttons, and the photo of an aged, bald, pot-bellied man appeared on the screen. Kirk and Spock looked at the photo blankly.

"I have seen photos of Captain Garth," commented Spock, "and…"

"And you don't see the resemblance?" Cory said with a grin. "You must remember that after the accident which Garth suffered, he had to undergo several operations. His face was completely changed. And when those medical procedures were failing, he was brought to Antos IV, with the results you know. That is what he looks like now."

Kirk was gazing at the photo, but his thoughts were on the Garth of Izar that he'd admired as a cadet. "I'd like to see him, Donald."

"Of course," said Cory, making a movement toward the door. Then, he stopped, and glanced up at the chronometer.

"No, Jim. Not now. Why see him now? If you will wait 24 hours, when we will be ready to utilize the medicine you have brought us… you will be able to see him as he once was. As he really is."

Jim Kirk nodded. "You're right, Donald, of course. I…. I'd rather see him then."

Cory smiled. "I'm glad."

Cory tapped his fingers on the command console. "I wonder…if I may be permitted to change my mind…I was thinking…rather than you dining with me, may I not dine with you? Aboard the Enterprise?"

Kirk grinned. "Don't tell me you actually want to leave this place, Donald?"

Cory grinned. "Only briefly, Jim. Only briefly. What do you say?"

"Certainly. But…" Kirk looked around the command center.

"Of course," said Cory. He punched a button. "Evangeline?"

"Yes, Governor Cory?"

"Will you return to the command center, please. I am going up to the Enterprise with our guests, and you will take over in the command center until I return."

"Of course, Governor."

Cory then gestured for Kirk, who went over to the command console and made contact with Scotty. "Slight change in plan, Scotty. We're going to beam up with Governor Cory for a few hours."

"Very good, sir. Queen to queen's level three."

"Queen to king's level one, " replied Kirk.

Cory bent his head, and brushed his finger against his nose a couple of times, as his lips quirked.

"Standing by to beam up," said Scotty.

At this point Dr. Evangeline entered.

"Evangeline," said Cory. "I leave you in charge. You know what to do."

"Yes, Dr. Cory."

Cory went to stand beside Kirk and Spock.

"Three to beam up, Scotty," Kirk called.

The three figures dissolved into glittering columns of energy.

Ensign O'Dell slowly brought the levers up to the off position, and watched as the three columns of energy solidified into three human beings.

There was Captain Kirk, there was Mr. Spock, and there was a third man, wearing a simple dark blue tunic. Tall, muscular, with graying hair parted in the middle so that it looked like angel's wings on either side of his head, grey eyes… and below that…a horribly, horribly scarred face.

O'Dell couldn't help it. He fell to his knees and began to vomit.

Kirk and Spock stared at what should have been Dr. Cory in shock. They knew enough about the transporter beam to know that it hadn't somehow destroyed Cory's face… this wasn't Cory.

Alerted by their expressions, Garth of Izar wasted no time. Even as it occurred to him that the transporter must have reassembled his molecules as himself, rather than as Cory, his hand was snaking down to the phaser with which he had equipped himself, hidden under his tunic. Garth was fast, as fast as a gunslinger from Earth's wild west, but he was only a second or so faster than Kirk and Spock. Had they been ten feet away, it would have been no problem. But they were only a foot away from him. Spock managed to knock the phaser from his hand just as Kirk lunged for him.

Garth, fast as a cat, grabbed Kirk's arm and spun him into Spock with all the strength of which an Izarian was capable. Both men went down. But the phaser had skittered away toward the oaf manning the transporter. He appeared absorbed in losing his lunch, but who knew how long that weakness would last? And strong as he was, he could not fight off both Kirk and Spock.

All this went through Garth's mind in a split second, then he was racing for the door. Once in the corridor he started sprinting, and if insanity gave a man superhuman strength, it also gave him superhuman speed. By the time Kirk and Spock had made it into the corridor, Garth had disappeared into the Enterprise.

Who Goes There? Or The Mind of Garth of Izar
A re-envisioning of Whom Gods Destroy?
By Gale Force
CHAPTER Two
Part One

Kirk and Spock had sprinted into the corridor, but knew it would be too late to catch the escapee. Garth of Izar. With that ruined face…they knew that's who it must be. And they knew what he wanted.

As one, without the necessity for words, they returned to the transporter room. Kirk punched the communication button on the console while Spock fetched various cleaning materials from the first aid room.

"Kirk to bridge. Come in Scotty," barked Kirk.

"Scott here, sir," came back the Lt. Commander's voice.

"This is an emergency, Scotty. Under no circumstances is anyone to enter or leave the bridge until Mr. Spock and I arrive there."

"Very good, sir," said Scotty calmly.

Spock was wielding a mop. He glanced up at his Captain, but knew that Kirk had probably just stopped for breath. And indeed it was so. "And when I say Mr. Spock and I, I mean just that. If either of us enters the bridge alone, clap him in irons. Understood?"

"Um…yes, sir," said Scotty.

"I'm going to repeat that, Scotty. Both Mr. Spock and I will be heading for the bridge shortly. Both of us have to arrive there. If either of us arrives without the other, clap him in irons."

"Yes, sir. Understood, Captin."

"All right, Scotty. I'll explain when we get there. Kirk out."

Ensign O'Dell had regained his feet and was wiping his face with a cloth which Spock had given him.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said shakily. "I just..I never saw anything like it…"

"Don't worry about it, O'Dell. Take over cleanup from Mr. Spock, will you?"

"Yes, sir."

Kirk punched another button. "Kirk to Security. I want a security detail to the transporter room. On the double."

"Yes, sir," came a voice.

Within five minutes, seven red-shirted security guards entered the transporter room. Their commander, Lieutenant Agatha Parker, saluted. "Security detail as requested, sir."

While he waited, Kirk had punched up a photo of Governor Donald Cory on the computer screen, and printed out a map of the Elba II facility.

"Lieutenant," said Kirk, handing her the map, "an inmate has escaped from Elba II and is currently aboard this ship. Somewhere down there is the governor of the colony, Donald Cory. I want you to find him. I also want you to assume that the rest of the inmates of the asylum are running loose, and you are to capture them. Remember that you're dealing with the criminally insane. I don't want any casualties, either from your detail or among the inmates."

"Understood, sir," said Parker.

Kirk paused, and glanced at Spock. "Anything to add, Spock?" he said.

"I suggest that a guard be left here, with Ensign O'Dell. I also suggest, Lieutenant Parker, that your security detail stick together. If you must separate, at the very least always stay in twos."

Parker nodded again. "Understood." She glanced at her detail – five men, one woman. "Dutch," she said. "You'll remain here with Ensign O'Dell."

Dutch was big and burly, and he didn't look happy to be chosen to babysit the transporter crewman, but he merely said, "Yes, ma'am."

"When you find Governor Cory, Lieutenant, you will bring him aboard the Enterprise immediately, and inform me of that fact. He is your first priority. Also…also, secure a woman named Dr. Evangeline. I'll want to talk with her shortly."

"Yes, sir," said Parker again.

"All right, Mr. Spock, let's get to the bridge."

Part Two
Garth of Izar was incandescent with rage. It was a mindless rage, burning white hot within him, as he strode along the corridors of the Enterprise. He had no destination in mind…he knew only that he must control this rage before he could do anything and he had not yet reached the point where he could control it. He wanted to find a private spot somewhere and just destroy whatever came into his hands.

Of course, he was not so angry that he had neglected to shape-shift his face back to his favorite appearance of it. Clear grey eyes, long, straight nose, full lower lip, high cheekbones. A rather handsome face. It wasn't his original face…for some reason he couldn't stand to look at himself with his original face, but this one was a nice substitute.

The concentration needed to maintain that face was very slight…nevertheless he had to be conscious to do so. He dreaded going to sleep at night, knowing that in his sleep his face would revert to its real condition. But when he awakened, at the first snatch of consciousness he returned it to what he wanted it to be.

Occasionally he passed by a crewperson, either walking in his direction or approaching opposite him, but they paid him no mind as that burning rage was kept behind an impassive façade. He paid only the barest attention to them. Just enough to make them see, should their eyes land on him, that he was indeed wearing a Federation uniform, rather than that simple blue tunic that had been his wear on Elba II.

For while Garth had the ability to control his cellular form, he had no power over his clothing. What he did have power over, however, was other people's minds. Oh, not a very great power. He had only the power to make them see what he wanted them to see…in this case…the fact that he was wearing a gold shirt and black slacks. And he could not control more than six people at once…he'd have to be careful of that…it would be best if he found a uniform as quickly as possible and changed into it.

Garth's fists clenched. Captain Kirk's uniform, for choice.

In the meantime...

Should have a new chapter up here in a couple of days. Meantime, thought this was a pretty interesting story.

Blisteringly sexy, she killed Nazis with her bare hands and had a 5 million-franc bounty on her head. As she dies at 98, the extraordinary story of the real Charlotte Gray

She stares into the camera with a coquettish half-smile and an unflinching come-hither look. The eyebrows are plucked, the lips full, the long auburn hair a classic 1940s style, falling onto the shoulders of her khaki uniform.

She could easily have been one of the sassy songbirds who brightened up World War II. But this was the face of Nancy Wake, one of that conflict’s bravest underground fighters against the Germans in France — and certainly the most stylish.

A male comrade-in-arms in the French Resistance summed her up as: ‘The most feminine woman I know, until the fighting starts. And then she is like five men.’ She lived up to both parts of that compliment.

So feminine was she that when escaping from pursuers on one notable occasion, she dressed in a smart frock, silk stockings, high-heeled shoes and a camel-hair coat, arguing that she didn’t want to look like a hunted woman.

In that same outfit, she jumped from a moving train into a vineyard to avoid capture at a Nazi checkpoint

And so aggressive was she that, after being parachuted into France as a Special Operations Executive agent, she disposed of a German guard with her bare hands and liked nothing better than bowling along in the front seat of a fast car through the countryside, a Sten gun on her lap and a cigar between her teeth, in search of Germans to kill.

Passionate and impulsive, with a tendency to draw attention to herself, she was not the ideal undercover agent. Her superiors didn’t think she would last long behind enemy lines.
But Wake proved them wrong and died this week, aged 98, in a nursing home for retired veterans in London. Her death brought to an end a life of such daring, courage and glamour that she was the inspiration for the Sebastian Faulks novel Charlotte Gray, which was made into a film starring Cate Blanchett.
Much of Wake’s extraordinary life was lived under assumed identities. She carried papers as Nancy Fiocca (her married name) and Lucienne Cartier. Her official SOE identity was Andree, though a gay friend in the service called her ‘Gertie’. On one operation she was tagged ‘Witch’.
But the best-known name was the one the Gestapo gave her when they put her on their ‘most wanted’ list, with a five million franc price on her head — that of ‘the White Mouse’, because she always managed to wriggle out of their traps.

Nancy Wake was born in New Zealand and brought up in Australia, a difficult child who took the first opportunity to leave the Antipodes for Europe.

There, she partied between assignments as a journalist, before marrying a rich businessman from Marseille who could indulge her taste for champagne, caviar and the good life.

Nancy was visiting London, for, of all things, a slimming course, when war was declared in September 1939. When she tried to join up to fight she was pointed, to her disgust, in the direction of a Naafi (Navy, Army and Air Force) canteen.
So she went back to France and, when that country fell to the invading Germans, she proved herself as brave and as aggressive as any man — and more than most.

In 1940, in the half of France unoccupied by the Nazis, Marseille was a magnet for downed RAF crew and British soldiers left behind after the Dunkirk evacuation, all hoping to make their way home via Spain.
An escape route over the Pyrenees was organised underneath the noses of the pro-German French authorities. Nancy’s wealthy husband, Henri, financed operations, while Nancy herself, dressed up to the nines, carried messages between members of the group.

Then she progressed to escorting the ‘packages’ — escaped Allied soldiers and airmen — along the coast to the border.
It was dangerous work, with constant fear of discovery or betrayal. At one stage, she was arrested by French police and interrogated in prison for four days. The leader of the escape line bluffed his way in and secured her release. After that, it was clear her days were numbered and she went to ground.

As the net closed around her, she headed for the mountains, leaving Henri behind, and made the punishing two-day trek over the Pyrenees to neutral Spain and from there, via Gibraltar, to Britain by mid-1943.
Nobody could have objected if, by then, she had decided she had done her bit. Instead, in London she volunteered for SOE’s French section and, despite reservations that she was too much of a party-girl, she was taken on and trained in survival skills, armed combat, Morse code and surveillance.

Six weeks before D-Day, she was parachuted into the heavily-forested and mountainous Auvergne region of central France to prepare local Resistance groups, the Maquis, for the job of harrying the Germans and delaying their reinforcements once the invasion began.
The 7,000 partisans were disorderly, disorganised and riven by personal rivalries, more of a rabble than an underground army that would do damage to the Germans. They had little interest in newcomers from across the Channel sorting them out, particularly a woman.
Nancy proved her mettle, arranging air drops and hiding supplies of weapons, travelling between the groups, paying out money, urging them to co-operate, knocking them, as best she could, into shape. She was as tough as the old army boots she eschewed for heels. With an escort of Maquisards, she shot her way through enemy patrols and roadblocks.

She led attacks on German convoys and even took on armoured cars. When asked why she insisted on travelling in the lead vehicle, she said it was because she couldn’t bear dust being thrown up in her face by cars in front.
In one mini-battle, her car was strafed by German fighter planes but she crawled out of the wreck, hanging onto her prized possessions — a jar of face cream, a packet of tea and a satin cushion.
When the roads were too dangerous to travel by car, she cycled more than 300 miles in three days to find a working radio set to contact London.
Nancy never lost her softer side, for all the horrors of war. Two American weapons instructors dropped into her forest hideout found a jar of flowers beside their makeshift beds.

But for all the feminine wiles she employed to get what she wanted, she knew where to draw the line. She was loyal to Henri, the husband she loved.
Any Maquis who fancied his chances was rebuffed. ‘If I had accommodated one, the word would have spread and they’d have been coming over the mountains for more,’ she once explained. ‘So, no love affairs, and that was that.’
This was made clear from the start. When she dropped into the Auvergne, her parachute snagged on a tree. The agent who met her simpered that he hoped all trees could bear such beautiful fruit. ‘Don’t give me that French s**t,’ she snapped back.
The sadness was that after the liberation she returned to Marseille to discover that Henri was dead. Shortly after her flight from the city, he had been caught, imprisoned and tortured. The Gestapo shot him.

She blamed herself for his death. If he’d told them where she was, he might have lived. But he refused.
She was festooned with honours — a British George Medal, the French Legion d’Honneur and three Croix de Guerre. She remarried, returned to Australia to live, took up politics for a while, then came back to Britain to retire in 2001.
Her body is to be cremated, but at her request the ashes will be scattered in the Auvergne.