Star Trek - Log 10

by Alan Dean Foster

  One of the Caitians, R'leez again, made a rush for the command chair and Kirk. The Captain fired at the charging ensign, then rolled out of the feline's path. But it was immediately clear she wasn't after him or the command chair. She rushed past Kirk, ignoring him as she headed for the helm controls.

  Arex caught her with another phaser burst. She staggered but again somehow managed to keep her feet. She was almost on top of the console and its protective, tripedal operator when she unexpectedly collapsed and fell across the helmsman's seat.

  Kirk had rolled back behind the command chair, panting. Now he noticed the tiny glint of plastic reflected off the syringe-dart sticking out of the Caitian's back. McCoy had shot her with one of his tranquilizer darts.

  Then something knocked him aside, moving at incredible speed. It was Ensign M'viore, the other Caitian who had arrived in the lift.

  "Bones! Fire, Bones!"

  Why didn't he fire?

  M'viore leaped for the controls, and Arex emerged to meet her. The Edoan threw three arms around her, wrestled her off. His additional arm prevented her from dealing with him as easily as she and her companions had dealt with the members of the various security teams. Spitting and clawing while a silent Arex held on desperately, she tumbled to the deck on top of him.

  "Bones!" Kirk looked around frantically for the doctor. Then he saw why McCoy hadn't fired at M'viore and why he didn't answer now. McCoy was lying sprawled on the deck, stunned by a burst from one of the Caitians' phasers.

  Half crawling, half stumbling, Kirk ran to his side, picked up the half-loaded tranquilizer gun. Arex and M'viore rolled over twice before the Caitian came up on top and raised her claws for a swing at the exhausted navigator's face. Vedama and Talliflores hunted for a clear shot at her.

  Kirk turned, aimed the unfamiliar but simple device, and fired. The syringe-dart snicked into M'viore just beneath her upraised right arm. She sat perfectly still for a moment, then rose and glanced at her side uncomprehendingly. For a brief instant the expression on her face was almost normal. Then she crumpled to the deck.

  A shaken Arex climbed slowly to his feet. Kirk moved to stand beside him, still holding the dartgun.

  "Her reserves of strength were startling, sir," Arex told him, "much in addition to what the reports claimed. It was one thing to listen to them, quite another to experience what they were referring to. I found myself being rapidly overpowered." Long, high whistling sounds—Edoan wheezing—issued from the navigator's mouth.

  "I thought she was coming for me," a puzzled Kirk murmured. "She was looking straight at me, and then—something more important seemed to take control of her. She forgot me completely in her rush to get at the helm. R'leez was heading for the helm also."

  "That's funny, sir," a puzzled technician replied, from across the bridge, "I thought she was coming after me."

  "I wonder why the helm as a final destination. Where could they want to go so frantically?"

  "We'll find out when they wake up." Arex regarded both limp feline forms thoughtfully.

  "I hope so." Kirk glanced around quickly, but the bridge and turbolift were devoid of the one figure he sought. "I wonder where M'ress is?"

  The Caitian communications officer was closer than Kirk knew. She was in a dark, dark place. It didn't bother her. She was not subject to claustrophobia, and the faint glow from the pocket light she carried in one hand provided more than enough illumination for her cat eyes to make out her surroundings. It was blissfully quiet where she was working, but she wasn't calm and relaxed. The pounding of her heart and the raging emotions controlling her kept both her hands and mind moving desperately.

  Nurse Chapel arrived with other Sick Bay technicians. The two Caitians and the members of the bridge crew who had been paralyzed by their phasers were carried from the room.

  One particular casualty concerned Kirk, not because he was more severely injured than any of the others, but because his invaluable advice would be sorely missed. "How soon before Bones will recover?" he inquired as McCoy was carried off the bridge.

  "It doesn't look as if he received the full force of a beam, Captain." Chapel considered the question briefly. "Not very long. In fact, he may be the first one to recover since he only absorbed a glancing blow. He'll recover faster if I give him a countering neuro-drug, but he'll feel the effects twenty-four hours later."

  "I need him most in the next twenty-four hours," Kirk told her. "What would Bones say if he was able?"

  "To give him the drug," Chapel replied without hesitation.

  "Right. Do so. What about the Caitians? I've got to know what's affected them and what M'ress is likely to do on her own, now that her two companions have been caught."

  "I understand, sir. I've been working with Dr. McCoy trying to find out, and we've several members of the ship's organic fabrication staff working with us. If anything unusual got into their food, they'll find it. It's slow going, though, backchecking everything that's been processed in, say, the past several weeks. They've found nothing in the way of a foreign substance so far that might be responsible for the trouble."

  "Keep them at it, Chapel. Do the best you can. And contact me the moment Bones is conscious."

  She smiled. "He'll do that himself, sir."

  When the last motionless crew member had been removed and the medical team was on its way down to Sick Bay, Kirk resumed his station at the command chair. Talliflores, Vedama, and himself were the only ones who had escaped the Caitians' assault.

  But that wouldn't do, especially not with M'ress still unconfined.

  "Lieutenant Talliflores, contact appropriate sections and have them designate on-duty qualified personnel to replace the technicians who were stunned. We need a maximum complement here, in case of any new surprises. Have backups report immediately."

  He turned to Vedama. "I wonder why M'ress didn't join her friends in their attack. A third charge might have successfully reached the helm."

  "It is possible, Captain," the science officer theorized, "that M'ress might have disagreed with her companions in their approach. Or she might feel different compulsions, have differing motives, and therefore didn't accompany them. Or," and he looked around with concern, "their seemingly well-planned assault on the bridge might only have been a diversion so M'ress could reach some other part of the ship."

  "Possible, Lieutenant. Talliflores, give me shipwide channel again."

  The communications officer complied and Kirk once more addressed the command chair pickup. "All personnel, this is the Captain speaking.

  "Two of the three renesade Caitians have now been tranquilized and are on their way to Sick Bay to receive treatment. Lieutenant M'ress has not been located and presumably is still moving freely about the ship. It is possible that the recent, nonfatal attack on the bridge which you will shortly be hearing rumors of was an attempt to divert our attention from some other deck. Security teams will continue searching on their own levels and all personnel will continue to remain alert for the lieutenant's presence. Thank you."

  "If M'ress has any sense left," Vedama commented, "she'll realize that she can't hope to accomplish whatever bizarre intention she and her companions had."

  "Relief personnel are on their way up, Captain," Talliflores announced smoothly.

  "Good. Hopefully this will all be over soon." Kirk regarded the command chair chronometer. They still had plenty of time to—

  The lights went out.

  Everyone spent a nerve-wracking couple of seconds in near-total darkness until the self-contained emergency lights cut in, filling the bridge with an eerie, dim glow that was punctuated only by the brilliant but localized illumination of the instrumentation faces and dials.

  "I believe, Captain," said Vedama slowly, "that we now know the whereabouts of Lieutenant M'ress."

  "Mr. Talliflores," Kirk said crisply, his eyes darting from dark corner to half-hidden bulkhead, "any communications from elsewhere on the ship as to her possible presence?"

&
nbsp; "Checking, sir." Talliflores turned to his console. A peculiar expression came over his deeply tanned face. He rapidly adjusted several controls, but these actions served only to deepen his uncertainty.

  Eventually he turned back to the command chair. His tone was grim. "Sir, all on-board communications are dead. I can't reach any part of the ship, and if there are incoming calls I'm not picking them up."

  "Lieutenant Vedama, try through the science section. See if you can raise anyone," Kirk ordered.

  Vedama likewise operated one switch after another before turning sorrowfully to face Kirk. "Sir, not only can't I contact any one, I can't contact any thing. All links with the main computer have been blocked off."

  "So now we know exactly where M'ress is." Kirk found himself slowly inspecting the surrounding walls and the ceiling. "She's got to be in the service crawlway encircling the bridge." He couldn't, despite the seriousness of the situation, keep a touch of admiration from his voice.

  "While M'viore and R'leez were attacking the bridge, she was busy cutting controls and connections. We were intentionally kept too busy to use any of the bridge instrumentation, or even to consider that the attack might be diversionary."

  His most important remaining question was directed to the only other officer in the room. "Mr. Arex, we've lost communications and computer access. I hope that's all we've lost."

  "I follow your meaning, Captain," the Edoan navigator acknowledged. "I am glad to report that we are still on course and maintaining speed. The engineering conduits, which are the most heavily sealed of all bridge-ship linkages, are too strong for her to break."

  "Or maybe she doesn't want to break into them," Kirk commented thoughtfully. "If the Caitians' purpose is to take over the ship, they'll want it in operating condition." He leaned forward in the chair, added sharply, "None of this means we can't get reinforcements in here. Lieutenant Vedama, try the turbo-lift."

  The science officer nodded, left his station, and moved to the lift. He touched the controls. The doors did not swing aside.

  "Nothing, sir. Not even an acknowledgment light on the panel."

  "I retract my statement on reinforcements. Apparently Lieutenant M'ress isn't dazed enough not to think things through." He smiled ruefully. "It's always pleasing to see an officer demonstrate such competence. I only wish it were under different circumstances."

  "There's still the way she got here, Captain," Vedama pointed out as he moved back to his station. "Up through the service passageways."

  Kirk shook his head. "You can bet that when she entered the serviceway around the bridge, Lieutenant, she took care to block off the approach behind her. The Caitians have demonstrated too much thoroughness so far, to forget something so obvious.

  "However, the moment someone tries to contact the bridge—if they haven't already—and finds out that its sealed off, they'll guess what's happened and act accordingly. Even if M'ress has used a phaser to melt and seal the door to the serviceway, it won't take long for someone else to get a torch from engineering and cut through.

  "And that means," he finished, hefting the tranquilizer gun tightly in one hand, "that if she still expects to accomplish whatever crazy end she has in mind, she'll have to act very soon."

  But they waited in silence. There was no sound nor sign of movement from any of the several serviceway hatches lining the interior wall of the bridge.

  "Biding her time," Kirk muttered softly, "waiting for some special moment. I wish I knew what was driving her and the other Caitians to do this."

  A nervous Talliflores suddenly voiced an unspoken concern. "Sir, what about our life-support systems? Couldn't she take over by interrupting our air supply?"

  Kirk replied just a smidgen more confidently than he felt. "I've already thought of that, Lieutenant. She could cut our atmosphere, but I don't know if she could restore it for her own use. But M'ress is no engineer. I don't think she could modulate the air supply just enough to knock us out, and I don't believe she'd chance killing us. That would be counter to all their actions thus far. No, I think she'll try and take the bridge without doing anything so drastic."

  "I admit they haven't killed anyone so far, sir," Talliflores conceded, "but if M'ress is pressed for time and feels someone breaking in behind her, into the serviceway—I just wish I knew why they're doing this!"

  "Easy, Lieutenant," Kirk urged, trying to relax the officer. "If we knew that, I think we'd have the answers to all our questions."

  "If you're right, sir," Talliflores mused, "why wait here for her to attack us? She's had the element of surprise with her ever since this business began."

  "How do you propose to take it away from her?" Kirk could see along the lieutenant's intended path and didn't like the option it presented. At the same time, Talliflores was quite correct. Kirk didn't see how he could object to it.

  The communications officer indicated a nearby service hatch. "She could be anywhere around or above us, sir. There are several entrances onto the bridge from the serviceway. She could be right here next to communications, or waiting by that one." He pointed to the hatch beneath the main viewscreen. "But she can't be behind all of them at once.

  "If one of us could get through a hatch, armed with a phaser and in close quarters, he could probably hold her off despite her speed and added strength. Even an agile Caitian needs room to maneuver. One of us could keep her busy while another cut through the sealed downway to go for help. We might even surprise her enough to overpower her before she could react."

  "You saw what little effect phasers had on ensigns M'viore and R'leez, Lieutenant. Each of them took two or three bursts and still didn't go down."

  "I know that, sir," Talliflores argued, "but it did slow them down. If one of us used a phaser and another was ready nearby with the tranquilizers—"

  Kirk was emphatic. "Absolutely not, Lieutenant. Your idea has merit, but . . . no. Keeping the tranquilizers ready right here is one of our two remaining methods to insure that the bridge is protected."

  "The other?" inquired the lieutenant.

  Kirk hesitated, finally voiced the one thing he'd been fighting to avoid. "In that case, we'll have to set phasers to kill."

  VIII

  All the Kzinti save one were engaged in setting up the stasis-field nullifier or in supervising its construction. The single exception sat in the far corner of the ready room looking miserable and unhappy as always. But that didn't prevent it from regularly scrutinizing the Federation prisoners. Sulu knew that it was concentrating only indifferently with its rheumy, sensitive eyes. The dangerous attention it was lavishing on them sprang from another organ. The telepath ignored the excitement in the room. It spoke not to its fellows, simply sat and watched and listened with its mind, hoping for unconscious betrayal of useful information from one of the captives.

  One of the largest Kzinti spoke a few harsh final words to one of the others, then turned to walk over and study the prisoners. Spock had already singled him out as a leader among the collection of yowling aliens, as much for his bearing and manner as for anything he had said. The gaze the Kzin lavished on the immobile captives was more baleful than that of the other Kzinti. His entire manner hinted at impatience and a natural belligerence he did not even try to suppress.

  That was fine with Spock. He preferred a direct confrontation to the subtle spying of the telepathic weakling hunched in the background.

  Eyes darting rapidly from one to the next, the big Kzin examined them each in turn. Directing his words to Sulu, he spoke. His standard English was comprehensible enough, though pushed out in a rough, raspy voice, as if the Kzin were speaking with a mouthful of pebbles. The implied threat and harshness of his tone needed no clarification.

  "I am Chuft-Captain. You will identify yourselves."

  So much for diplomatic courtesy, Spock mused. Well, realistically they could expect nothing better.

  Taking his cue from what the first officer had said before, Sulu spoke up as if it were natural for
him to be in command. "Lieutenant Sulu of the Federation starship Enterprise." He gestured with his head toward his companions. "This is officer Spock."

  Chuft-Captain appeared to find nothing unusual in Sulu's failure to identify Uhura. He regarded her once, only long enough to assure himself that she was female, and then dismissed her presence as if she did not exist.

  Spock, however, was evidently deserving of somewhat more attention. "You are a Vulcan," declared the Kzin, contempt dripping from every word. "I feel no pressing need to converse with an eater of roots and leaves."

  One eyebrow rose slightly, but Spock didn't reply to the taunt. If Chuft-Captain was trying to assure himself of Spock's placidity, the first officer wasn't going to do anything to counter that impression.

  Apparently satisfied, the Kzin commander turned back to Sulu. "Humans are at least omnivorous," he growled with the air of one making a major concession. "You are prisoners aboard the privateer Traitor's Claw, a stolen police vessel."

  Sulu had a questioning response ready, but having delivered himself of this information, Chuft-Captain showed no inclination to pursue the conversation. Instead, he turned away from the captives.

  His subordinates had almost finished the basic assembly of the nullifier and were beginning to place ancillary instrumentation into the complex framework. As the odd-shaped device took shape, the various members of the Kzin crew displayed increasing excitement.

  One Kzin took no part in the construction of the stasis-field nullifier. His attention was reserved solely for the stasis box itself. It rested on the far end of the huge central table. Even with the former owners of the box secured within the police-web field, the guard showed no sign of relaxing his vigilance.

  If the Kzin commander was reluctant to converse, then it was up to Sulu to persuade him. "Stealing must be a habit with you. The police vessel . . . two stasis boxes . . ." The helmsman managed to sound impressively contemptuous himself.