by Kevin Ryan
That wasn’t a surprise. They were most likely standing to the side of each inner air-lock door waiting for the boarding party. Well, they would get it soon enough, and perhaps a surprise or two as well.
Fuller immediately went to join Parmet and Quatrocchi. He saw the device they had placed over the forward door’s locking mechanism. A moment later, the two other teams reported in.
Fuller acknowledged and hit a button on the small keypad he wore on his wrist. Though he couldn’t hear the explosions, he could feel them through his boots, and he could see the flash at about thirty meters to the rear of the ship.
He knew that alarms would be sounding all over the ship, and the Klingons would be rushing to the damaged air locks to face them. Without hesitating, Fuller hit another button on the keypad and activated the second type of device they had brought.
The magnetic disk lit up and Fuller knew it had come to life. This one, of course, didn’t explode. It simply flashed for a few moments, and then the outer air-lock door slid open. Fuller and his team slipped inside, gravity immediately taking them as they stepped over the threshold. As soon as they were inside, Fuller closed the door and hit the control to repressurize the air lock.
It took precious seconds, giving Fuller plenty of time to worry about whether the Klingons had been sufficiently distracted by the explosions or if any warriors would be waiting for them just outside the inner door. A light came on and Fuller knew they had atmosphere. Without waiting a moment, he hit the button to open the inner door, and it obediently slid open.
No one was there.
Still, they could be lying in wait on the wall on either side. Fuller prepared to lean slowly out of the air lock when there was a blur of motion next to him and Parmet stepped out into the ship, both phasers raised.
Fuller cursed under his breath and followed the young man. Looking around quickly, he was relieved to see that the hallway was empty. “Ensign Parmet?”
“Sorry, sir. I jumped the gun,” Parmet said over the comlink.
“Stay close to me and do this one by the book.” Quickly, Fuller took off his helmet and tossed it aside as the others did the same. They needed their eyes and ears for this one. They were in a large room piled with equipment, one of two on this level. It opened to a corridor that ran down the center of the ship, and Fuller headed for it.
As he stepped into the corridor, he saw a Klingon appear in front of him. Before the danger had even fully registered in his mind, his hand fired the phaser on its own. The Klingon went down immediately, falling at the heavy stun setting. Immediately, another Klingon appeared and fired at them from farther down the hall.
Fuller returned fire as the other two men with him did the same. A Klingon head peeked out. Then another one emerged from the room across from the one they had entered. Quatrocchi hit him with one shot, but the fire intensified from down the corridor. Fuller and Parmet hugged one wall, while Quatrocchi lay against the other.
The continued fire was putting smoke in the air, and Fuller knew they couldn’t keep this up for long. Eventually, the Klingons would get lucky, and they outnumbered the security squad by at least two to one. He didn’t know how the other teams were faring, and there was no time to find out.
“Fall back,” he said. If the layout he had studied was correct, the corridor they were in now terminated in the ship’s control room in the very front of the ship. If they were lucky, the control room had been abandoned by the crew, who were eager to fight off the boarders. His challenge to the Klingons would have made them angry enough to get sloppy.
A few seconds later, they were backed up against the control-room door. The Klingons were firing at them from the other end of the corridor and were getting braver, moving toward them. There was no time to waste, they needed the cover of the control room.
Fuller hit the control that opened the door and leapt inside before he looked, depending on the element of surprise to help him if anyone was there.
He saw the Klingon in the pilot’s chair a millisecond before the alien saw him. Fuller raised and aimed his phaser just as the Klingon did the same. It was going to be close, very close.
Even as Fuller fired, he realized that the Klingon was moving just slightly faster. But a fraction of a second before Fuller fired, he saw another beam lance out from next to him. The Klingon fired. Then another phaser fired. The four weapons in the small room discharged nearly simultaneously, and Fuller actually saw the disruptor bolt that nearly took his head off, missing him by inches.
A moment later the Klingon slumped to the floor, after taking a phaser beam to the chest. The shot had come from Fuller’s right: Quatrocchi.
“Thank you, Ensign,” Fuller said.
“My pleasure, sir.”
Immediately, the three men turned and took positions on either side of the door, Fuller and Parmet on one side, Quatrocchi on the other. From their semiconcealed positions, the three men started firing down the corridor at figures that dashed from side to side, firing back.
A bolt tore into the deck in front of the door, and Fuller realized that the Klingons had not set their weapons on stun, or anywhere near it. The bolts were not enough to dematerialize a person, but they would do heavy damage to any body they touched. The disruptor bolts posed another danger. A wild shot could easily hit the forward window of the ship. At that power, a hit on the window would mean an immediate hull breach and a fast decompression of the control room.
The Klingons moved forward, getting more aggressive as they neared their enemy. The fire was nearly endless, and more than one shot hit the control panels behind Fuller’s team. Another shot tore into the body of the Klingon that Quatrocchi had stunned, and Fuller could see that the damage was immediately fatal.
It was a game of inches now and the Klingons had the advantage. Well, if Fuller, Parmet, and Quatrocchi could hold out a little longer, there was hope that the other teams could accomplish something.
A moment later, Fuller heard shouting that sounded distinctly human, and instantly the fire on their position stopped. Yet he could hear the sound of disruptor fire continuing and could see flashes of green through the smoke. No, not just green. Blue. The blue of phaser fire.
Someone had come up behind the Klingons and was hitting them pretty hard. The sound was nearly deafening, with human shouts met with Klingon war cries. Then, the sound of disruptors quieted and there were only a few phaser blasts. And then silence.
After a few seconds a female voice called out, “Fuller?” It was McCalmon.
“Here,” he said. “Is Jawer with you?”
“Yes, sir,” Jawer’s voice said.
A few moments later, Jawer and McCalmon appeared out of the smoke. “We thought you might need some help up here,” she said.
“We did, thank you,” Fuller replied. Then he could hear a series of weapons blasts and then more silence.
“Baxter? Jameson?” Fuller called out, and both men appeared in the corridor as if answering his summons.
“I think we got them all,” Jawer said.
“We counted ten in the corridor,” McCalmon said.
“We took down one by the air lock and one in here,” Fuller said, gesturing to the dead Klingon in the pilot’s seat.
“And there were four near our air lock. They had us pinned down for a while,” Baxter said.
That was fourteen, about right for a ship of this class.
“Let’s not take any chances. We go door-to-door and check every inch of the ship. I don’t want any surprises. Baxter, you and Jameson collect the Klingon bodies and put them all in one of the rooms by the air locks. If you even suspect one might be waking up, stun him twice.”
The two men acknowledged and were off.
“There was no one in the cargo area. And I don’t think there could be anyone hiding in the containers. They had pretty heavy-duty security seals on them,” Jawer said.
“Probably because they’re carrying precious cargo or military equipment,” Fuller said. “Or
both.” From what little Fuller knew of the Klingon merchant cargo business, it was often marked by disputes over cargo inventories and value. Whatever the cultural reasons, it made trade between the Federation and the empire (when that was still possible) thorny at best.
They checked the upper level first and did it quickly. It carried stores for the crew, extra equipment, and the small engineering section. All of the rooms and compartments were empty. They headed down a ladder and quickly reached the lower level, which usually included a cargo ship’s crew quarters, galley, and recreational facilities. It was also where the hostages would likely be kept, if they were still alive.
Fuller split his people into two groups. He, Parmet, and Quatrocchi checked the port side, while McCalmon and Jawer checked the starboard. They were nearing the very rear of the ship and Fuller was worrying that there might be no hostages on board when Jawer said. “Sir, I have a locked door here.”
A dozen steps later, Fuller found Jawer and McCalmon standing in front of an ordinary door. Jawer had pulled open a control panel and was obviously trying to open the door. Fuller pulled him away with a tug, aimed his phaser, and fired.
The control panel disintegrated and the door slid open immediately. Fuller half-expected to be facing down the business end of a Klingon disruptor. Instead, he saw four people lying on the floor of the tiny room, one man and three women. At first, he thought they were dead, but a woman raised her head to look at them and the others stirred.
He recognized the people, at least the expressions on their faces. They had the look of people who had spent too long inches from death and far from hope … survivors. They looked haunted and dazed. They were also dirty, and each had slowly healing cuts and bruises. Their clothing, what little they wore, was torn and barely holding together.
“I am Michael Fuller of Starfleet. We’re here to take you home.”
Three of the people looked at him dumbly, while the woman who had first lifted her head started to cry. He heard a few throats catch next to him. Jawer was looking on, pain on his face. McCalmon had tears in her eyes when she stepped forward and said, “Do any of you need medical attention?”
The crying woman started to get up and gestured to the man next to her. Crude splints were on each forearm, and Fuller could see that the bones were broken and had been badly set, if they had been set at all. Fuller helped up the woman, whom he immediately thought of as the one in charge.
“Can any of you walk?” he asked.
“I can,” the woman said.
The other two women grunted something and started to stand with help. The man simply nodded. It took two people to get him on his feet, but he was able to stand.
“Jawer, see if you can get their transporter online. Parmet, go back to the shuttle and get us four more suits, just in case,” Fuller said, and the two men sprinted off to their tasks.
Fuller, McCalmon, and Quatrocchi started leading the people to the ladder. The first step was to get them to the upper deck. The man with the broken arms was having trouble walking. McCalmon had only the standard medical training, but since she carried the medical kit, she was their medic. “I can give you something for the pain,” she said, and the man nodded. A moment later, she had a hypo spray out and administered it.
The man straightened immediately.
“My name is Christine,” the woman said, seeming to gain strength. “This is Alan, and this is Cyndy and Arleen.”
Fuller introduced himself again as well as the others. Just as he reached the ladder, Fuller’s communicator beeped. It was Jawer. “Transporter is fried, sir. I’m sorry.”
“Fine, meet us in the control room. Fuller out.”
“No transporter?” Christine asked. “Are we going to be stuck here?”
“No, we have a shuttle, but we’re going to have to get you into space suits to get you there,” Fuller told her.
Christine looked worried. Fuller smiled and said, “This is what we do. We’ll have you out of here in no time. There’s a starship standing by.”
That seemed to satisfy her. Of course, the transfer would take some doing, particularly for the injured man. These were civilians with no zero-g or vacuum survival training. For a moment, Fuller considered sedating them, but decided against it. He couldn’t risk strong drugs on their clearly weakened bodies.
Getting them up the ladder was difficult. Again, especially for the man. On the upper deck, Jawer was waiting. “Parmet’s waiting with the suits,” he said.
Fuller sent Quatrocchi and McCalmon ahead with the survivors with orders to get them to the shuttle. When they were gone, he said to Jawer, “I need you to completely disable the warp and impulse drives, as well as any long-range transmission capability.”
Jawer nodded. “The warp drive’s already done. The shuttle phasers took care of that. I can finish the impulse drive for good quickly.”
“Good. Then I want you to check the ship’s computer. Find out what they’re carrying.”
Jawer nodded and went right to work. Fuller headed to Baxter and Jameson, who were guarding an open door. Looking inside, Fuller saw that the Klingons were lying on the floor, unconscious—though one of them was starting to stir.
“They’ve been quiet,” Baxter said.
With that, the Klingon who had been moving shot to his feet. He stood up and faced them. “Earther! You dare to attack us? I will destroy you, you cowardly scum—”
Fuller’s phaser was immediately in his hand, and a blue beam knocked the Klingon back to the ground. He was immediately silent. Then Fuller hit the control to lock the door.
“Watch them until we’re ready to leave,” Fuller said, and headed to the port air lock.
Parmet and Quatrocchi were helping Christine and another woman into a suit. Beyond them, he could see two of his team inside the air lock itself as the outer door opened. They helped one of the other survivors outside and to the shuttle door. A moment later, they had her inside and were returning to the air lock.
Two more left, Fuller realized. They were moving quickly.
His communicator beeped and Jawer said, “Sir, you had better come see the cargo.”
Less than a minute later, Fuller was looking down an open hatch at a stasis chamber full of worms. “The computer called it gagh,” Jawer said. “There’s also something called bloodwine, and rokeg blood pie.”
Fuller knew what that meant. “Turn the stasis fields off.”
“I can do it, sir, but it’s just food.”
“Out here and in these quantities, the only ones who would see this food are Klingon warriors. This is food from home, given to soldiers to keep their morale high. See that it’s no use to them when they find it.”
“Easiest to just disengage the cargo containers entirely. That will cut the power,” Jawer said.
“Good, we need to lighten the ship before we go.”
A few moments later, Parmet reported that the last survivor was on board. Fuller ordered everyone but Jawer and Baxter back to the shuttle. He left Baxter guarding the door and took Jawer to the control room.
They had to push aside the dead Klingon to get to the controls, but Jawer was able to quickly release the cargo containers. “That’s it. They have battery power and life support, but no ability to move or communicate.”
The last step was an improvised time lock on the door holding the Klingon crew, who had seemed to have woken up and were shouting and banging on the walls. Jawer had modified one of the electronic lock breakers they had used to enter the ship and placed it on the door.
“Give them, say, six hours in there,” Fuller said.
“Sure,” Jawer said.
They quickly made their way back to the shuttle, which was fairly crowded. Nevertheless, to Fuller, it seemed like home. They quickly repressurized and Fuller was glad to have his helmet off again.
While the others gave the survivors water and emergency rations, Fuller told Quatrocchi what they needed to do. Fuller turned on the shuttle’s tractor beam, wh
ich grabbed the command and propulsion module of the Klingon ship while Quatrocchi began to slowly accelerate. They had to do it slowly, taking precious minutes, because it was a lot of mass for the shuttle to be pulling, and because too fast an acceleration could easily overload the relatively low-powered tractor beam.
“What are you doing?” Christine asked.
“We’re towing the ship on a course into populated Klingon space. They will be picked up in a few weeks, or a few months,” Fuller said.
Nearly twenty minutes later, they were close enough to light speed for Fuller to release the ship. He shut off the tractor beam and Quatrocchi veered away. For a few seconds, Fuller watched the cargo ship as it coasted away behind them. Free of its burden and pointed toward the Enterprise, the shuttle quickly accelerated to top speed.
“You could have just left them,” Christine said. “You’d have gotten no argument from me.”
“That’s not what we do.” But Fuller was uncomfortable for a long moment. He had strongly considered doing just that.
“You’re a real humanitarian,” the man said, speaking for the first time.
Fuller didn’t know what he meant, but he understood the tone and ignored the comment. They still had nearly two hours to go before he could even signal the Enterprise. Fuller tested his equipment and saw that the scanners were back online. They must have overloaded during the battle and then reset themselves when they finally cooled down.
Even though they were still in Klingon space, Fuller found himself relaxing by degrees. The mission had succeeded. And incredibly, they had not lost a single hostage or officer. That was a hell of a lot more than luck; it was practically a miracle.
Chapter Sixteen
U.S.S. ENTERPRISE
FEDERATION-KLINGON BORDER
“CAPTAIN, I HAVE THE SHUTTLE,” Uhura said.
“Put them on audio,” Kirk said.
A moment later, Michael Fuller’s voice came through the system, and Kirk felt a wave of relief. “Galileo to Enterprise.”
“Enterprise, Kirk here. It’s good to hear your voice, Michael. What’s your status?”
