Star Trek - TOS - Battlestations

by Diane Carey

  He shrugged. "Professor Mornay won't expect me

  so soon either. That's our extra playing card. Besides

  you, of course."

  "Weirdest game I ever seen," Scanner complained,

  wincing as he stretched his arm.

  I pressed on. "What happened when they took you

  in for questioning?"

  Kirk shrugged. "I answered them." His casual air

  deflated the bureaucratic web he'd probably had to

  untangle before making good his promise to meet

  Spock here. He hadn't said, of course, that the an-

  swers had been truthful--only effective.

  "You could're told me what was going on," I said,

  facing the captain, surprised at my boldness and some-

  how urged on by it. In that moment of bald honesty, I

  was talking to the captain of my starship, the captain

  of my schooner, and the captain of my destiny. He

  knew what I was feeling. I might as well have the

  satisfaction of speaking the words. "It wasn't neces-

  133

  sary to leave me holding an empty bag out in the

  middle of an ocean on a ship I didn't know how to pilot

  ... sir."

  He nodded, one shoulder cocked and his brow

  furrowed. "I see. Anything else?"

  ' I dropped the crumpled flight suit and started peel-

  ing off excess veils. "Well, I could mention something

  about getting stuck in a smelly tavern and being pawed

  by some K!ingon with no neck and a face like a

  macaque...

  "But," he prodded.

  "But... I think I'd rather know what you want us

  to do next."

  "I want us all to fulfill our respective missions. Go

  ahead, Spock."

  Spock shifted as he crouched beside McCoy. In his

  tunic and cape, he seemed forbiddingly natural to this

  guerrilla life-style, as though he only half fit in any kind

  of world. He addressed me directly with his serene

  Vulcan approach, and any other identity but that of

  science officer dropped softly away. 'I was attempting

  to hail you when the captain beamed aboard unex-

  pectedly from the ship that transported him from

  Earth. You were correct about Lieutenant Sarda and

  your carrier waves."

  Scanner inhaled sharply and grinned. "Did we tree

  him?"

  Spock hesitated, lost for a moment in the colloquial

  assault, then recovered and said, "Yes, we... treed

  him. Shortly before the captain arrived, I began re-

  ceiving low-gain impulses from what is apparently an

  abandoned dairy farm on the northern outskirts of the

  city, just over that rise." He gestured to a shadowy

  ridge just behind a densely populated slum area. In the

  twilight, we could see it clearly. "The pulses were

  regular and definitely geared to be picked up by sen-

  sors attuned to radio waves. Logically, the sender

  could only be Lieutenant Sarda, since those waves are

  134

  tricky to broadcast. Congratulations on your guess.

  We now have a location."

  I slumped back and closed my eyes for a moment.

  He was alive. Alive and answering me. Cold and still

  since the first transwarp waves had hit Rex, my heart

  started beating again. Merete reached over and

  squeezed my arm in much-needed reassurance. She

  was grinning that silent fairylike grin. He was alive.

  "The Enterprise isn't here?" I blurted, turning to

  Kirk.

  "Not yet," he said. "Too conspicuous. Scotty's in

  command and the ship is on its way... slowly."

  "A decoy? Mornay thinks you'll be on board the

  starship?"

  "Yes. And Dr. Boma is on board. He may be of

  some help when it comes down to the wire. He's

  worked more closely with these scientists than any of

  US."

  I crouched between the cistern and a wooden build-

  ;ng long enough to squirm out of the harem pants and

  back into my flight suit and boots. Ahhh, that felt right.

  "So we'll go ahead with our plan to split up into three

  teams and separate the scientists, sir?"

  "They'll be easier to handle that way," Captain Kirk

  added. "But I'm also counting on your relationship

  with Sarda to shed light on Mornay's mental state

  before we try to deal with her. We don't want her

  pushing the wrong buttons in a panic. With any luck,"

  he said, peering over his shoulder at his closest col-

  league, "Mr. Spock will be able to pull out his bag of

  Vulcan logic tricks with Perren and weaken Mornay's

  stand by taking away her support. Her possession of

  transwarp loses its potency if she doesn't also possess

  Sarda and Perren."

  Fully dressed and loving it, I stepped Out to put on

  my boots. "What if you can't reason with her? We

  have reason to suspect they're actually building a

  transwarp device---"

  135

  "Which makes them a thousand times more danger-

  ous." He paused, driving home the seriousness of that

  one change. "Spock told me. We can't afford to wait

  too long," he said, his voice taking on an abrupt

  strength. "Every minute that goes by heightens the

  risk that other governments, hostile ones, might get

  word of Mornay's plans and descend on Argelius.

  We've got to shut her down before that happens. It's

  up to you to give that process a strong beginning." The

  captain's finger pointed at me in illustration, pinning

  the responsibility right back on my shoulders. "Mot-

  nay doesn't know you. That's an advantage," he said.

  "Use it."

  "Aye, sir, I'll do my best." Of course, I was really

  saying that I would fake it to the best of my abilities. I

  hoped he took it as that kind of promise. Nothing was

  guaranteed.

  "We'll go in teams," he said, calculatedly making

  eye contact with each of us as he spoke. "Piper, you

  and Sandage go first. Isolate Lieutenant Sarda and get

  him out of the red zone. That'll leave Spock and me

  free to move in on the others."

  Charming .... I get to go first. "How are we going

  to pinpoint the location without the ship's sensors?"

  Spock retrieved a tricorder from Merete, who had

  kept her presence of mind during our foray with the

  Klingons and made sure our equipment got out of

  there safely. Checking the tuning, Spock then handed

  the tricorder to Scanner. "These tricorders have been

  adjusted down to the carrier wavelength. There's in-

  sufficient power to send the waves, but the tricorders

  can now receive them adequately to home in on the

  source. The signal will be faint. You'll have to con-

  stantly tune in. It may be tedious."

  Scanner shrugged. "They don't call me Scanner for

  riothin'." His eyes made a self-conscious flick and he

  added, "sir."

  "We'll give you forty-five minutes to get into posi-

  136

  tion outside their compound," Captain Kirk said. "At

  that point, Mr. Spock and I will create a diversion,

  giving you the opportunity to get inside unnoticed."

 
His tone, abrupt and poignant, insisted on success

  "It's critical that each of you understand. Don't under-

  estimate the gravity of this situation. Those scientists

  . . each of us . . . even this entire planet are

  expendable. Mornay has to be stopped, even if the

  cost is all of our lives. Understood?" He paused, a

  long, measured pause until he received the depth of

  awareness from us that he demanded. With a nod, he

  said, "Good luck."

  The clock started ticking again.

  137

  Chapter Fight

  "There are some things that transcend even the discipline

  of the Service."

  --Amok Time

  IT TOOK US almost thirty minutes to wind our way

  through the Argelian slums and up that rise to the

  dairy farm. A motley collection of old wooden shacks

  and stone-processing buildings, the farm also now

  possessed an incongruous sophistication guards.

  "How many?" I asked as Scanner crouched beside

  me in the nearby overgrowth.

  He turned his tricorder and squinted at the screen

  "Twelve or more. These buildings are armed with

  screens. Sensors can't penetrate, but I read twelve

  guards on this side. You think they're Argelian?"

  I smirked at him. "Not if M ornay's worth her salt.

  Look at those phaser rifles."

  "Yeah, so much for Argelian law. Those guys don't

  look very affectionate, do they?"

  "They look like hired guns to me," I said. "Mornay

  must've scraped the bottoms of some seedy bar-

  rels."

  "Tell you what . . . they got a sensor wall around

  this place that's steady as a docked ship. A butterfly

  couldn't get in without them findin' out."

  "But it isn't a force field..."

  "Negative, just sensors."

  "We only have twelve minutes before the captain

  and Spock make their diversion. Let's find a door to

  target."

  "What kind of a diversion you think the Captain'll

  come up with?" Scanner asked as he followed me in a

  wide arch through the surrounding trees and reddish

  Argelian scrub growth.

  "Who knows?" I answered. "He'll use whatever's

  at his disposal. The ship he came in, the ship Spock

  came in... maybe even Rex. Whatever it is, it'll be

  fast and sudden. We'll have to be ready."

  "We're ready for anything," he said with a little

  snarl of confidence.

  "This is a good place," I said, hunching down and

  scanning the farm area below. "On the far side from

  the city... only one door, and only three guards. See

  any others?"

  "Yup, right behind that wall. Two of 'era."

  "Where?"

  "Next to that lopsided shed."

  "Oh... I see them," I said, peering down the grade

  at the guards as they lazily paced. "Look at their

  clothes. All different. And they're all humanoid, too.

  Quick and good with hand-held weapons."

  "Those scientists ain't takin' chances, are they?"

  "No," I said, feeling the weight again. "They're

  not." I gazed over the buildings, plugging myself into

  the faint lights that shone from tiny windows. Those

  were probably set up as labs, probably set up quickly

  and without safety measures. Sarda would be in one of

  them, confined somehow. Each of those thoughts

  made me stiff with worry. If the scientists, in their rush

  to produce a transwarp device and up their ante, could

  have one "accident," then certainly they could have

  more. Sarda wouldn't be safe as long as he was forced

  to cooperate with them.

  The three stone buildings were attached to one

  another with lath-ribbed breezeways covered with

  138 139

  some kind of tarp. The only opening on this side of the

  compound was a heavy wooden double door, warped

  by time and the elements, and guarded by two sentries

  with phaser rifles.

  "Any time now," I breathed. Captain, make it a

  good show for me.

  Soon phasers would lance from the sky, or perhaps

  he would use photon torps for a brighter effect. A

  distraction, he said. If I was in Kirk's position, I'd

  have drawn the guards away by hitting a target down

  the glen, near enough to see very well and far enough

  to get the guards out of my way. Nervously, I glanced

  at the sky.

  "Are you ready?" I asked Scanner, more out of

  need for the sound of a voice, even my own.

  The night was dead quiet. The two nearest planets in

  the Argelian system wheeled blue and pink overhead,

  conflicting with the two moons for attention. "Yeah,

  I'm ready," he whispered, also watching the sky.

  "Any time," I said again. I licked my lips and

  pushed my mind right through that door. All I had to

  do now was join it. "Any minute."

  "I'm still ready."

  "Good... good..."

  "Wish we had phasers."

  "Use your imagination," I scoffed. "What did they

  do before phasers were invented?"

  He shrugged. "They used photons."

  A smirk was the best I could manage for his com-

  ment. I watched the sky. It was time. Where was the

  captain?

  Fleeting and horrible, the idea struck that Scanner

  and I might be in the wrong place, about to break into

  the wrong compound. Could that be it? Was I screwing

  up already? Frantically I started scanning the country-

  side, looking for the right compound or some signal of

  Kirk's diversion, but... nothing.

  Besides, why would they have phaser rifles if this

  140

  wasn't the right place? Right, right, that made sense.

  "Hey, Piper?"

  "What?"

  "You see what I see?"

  I swung around to him. "Where?"

  "Yonder." He pointed down at the compound and

  the slope behind it.

  I squinted through the purple Argelian night, trying

  to home in on a strange snorting noise that was groan-

  ing its way up the slope. A moment later a score of fat

  animal faces popped up over the hill, followed by

  !umbering gray bodies, then more faces and more

  bodies. Resembling, more than anything, a cross be-

  tween Earth rhinoceroses and those clodheaded mud-

  pigs discovered lurebering around Rigel Four about a

  century ago, they were Argelian currbucks. Big, genr

  tie, and clumsy, they shook their horns in confusion

  and gallumphed toward the farm. Nobody would ever

  have bothered to keep them around except that their

  milk made up about 90 percent of Argelius's export

  trade, considered a delicacy for its alcoholic effects

  without the usual hangover. The animals themselves

  were born with a case of industrial strength stupidity.

  "Warthogs!" Scanner blustered. He watched in as-

  tonishment as three chubby Argelian shepherds franti-

  cally waved prods at the animals, evidently trying to

  get them under control, but to no avail. The currbucks,

  wide-eyed and snorting in panic, thundered over the

  crest of the hill
and headed straight for the guarded

  farm area.

  We watched, tense and unsure, as the currbucks

  lumbered right through the compound's sensor

  screens and set off the alarms. The night filled with

  flashing lights and whooping klaxons. One by one, the

  guards around the compound ran to help herd the

  curtbucks away from the farm. Eventually, when it

  was clear the herd was out of control, when currbucks

  were running snout-first into the compound walls in

  141

  blind panic, even the guards at the rear door drifted

  away toward the scampering herd.

  Scanner stared downward. "Was that it?"

  "I don't know," I said quickly, tensed on bent knees

  and ready either to go or stay, or go... or... "What

  do you think?"

  "I don't know. What do you think?"

  "What do you think?"

  "You're the one who's always tryin' to think like the

  captain. You tell me! Would he send hogs after us?"

  "Maybe that's it."

  "We can go if you wanna go..."

  "Maybe we should go."

  "But what if that wasn't it?"

  "But what if it was?"

  "You think it was?"

  "Yeah. Yeah. Let's go."

  We went. A diversion is a diversion. And 100 Arge-

  lian currbucks can be plenty diverting.

  The mercenaries were shouting at each other, be-

  cause with mercenaries there's usually too much ego

  to elect any one leader, and they made a silly spectacle

  trying to direct an impossible roundup. By the time

  Scanner and I reached the door, the klaxons and

  flashing lights had thoroughly terrorized the currbucks

  and the guards were sufficiently distracted with what

  they thought was just an accident from a neighboring

  farm. With a last glance over our shoulders, we slipped

  inside the wooden doors and closed them tightly be-

  hind us, locking out the flashes and most of the

  sounds.

  The silence of danger closed in around us. My skin

  quivered with anticipation. "Lock it," 1 said.

  Scanner pulled the bolt with a shaking hand.

  The hallway was simple, made of stone blocks,

  unadorned except for small filament lights that cast a

  cold glow.

  142

  "I can't believe that worked!" Scanner gasped.

  Until then, I hadn't noticed how nervous he really