by Kevin Ryan
Gurn took them a few levels down and showed them the heavy equipment, the control rooms, and finally the reactor. Interestingly, Gurn seemed to know almost nothing about the equipment his people had inherited, and the natives tending the machines looked unsure of themselves. Yet, somehow, they had kept the power on, and even—according to Gurn—restarted the warp reactor.
Duras looked on politely and assigned technicians to work with the natives at each station. As they moved through the complex, Karel saw that Duras was impatient and seemed eager to move on.
They reached the mine’s central shaft, where there was a short fence and a seemingly bottomless abyss. “And finally, let me show you our storage facility, which I think will be of particular interest,” Gurn said.
Duras nodded and Gurn showed them onto a flying platform that Karel recognized as an ore hauler. With his technicians dispersed throughout the mine, Duras’s party was down to five, the same number as in Karel’s group and Gurn’s. Three groups of five—the number in ancient Klingon hunting and war parties. Yet, there the similarity between the three groups ended. Karel felt uncomfortable around Duras and his Klingons, and Gurn made him feel the same way.
All fifteen Klingons fit easily in the ore hauler. One of Gurn’s people took the controls. He seemed nervous and didn’t inspire confidence. Yet he managed to get them down several levels in one piece. It was a short walk to a large open chamber where about a dozen cargo containers stood waiting.
“Let this be the first of many exchanges between our two peoples,” Gurn said as he strode up to the first container and flung its lid open dramatically.
The box was completely empty.
No, not completely empty. A note was written on the underside of the lid. It mentioned Gurn by name and had a suggestion for the Klingon that was creative in its way but clearly biologically impossible.
Karel and his Klingons laughed out loud, while Duras said indignantly, “What is this?”
“Check the others,” Gurn ordered his people, and they immediately began tearing open containers. They were all empty, except for the notes they held, which all carried messages for Gurn and interesting uses of language.
“Gurn, what is going on here? You gave me assurances,” Duras said, menace in his voice.
“The dissenting clan we spoke of, this is their work. Adon is their leader,” Gurn said, nearly choking in his fury. Looking at Duras’s displeasure, he said, “We will destroy them immediately and get you your crystals.”
“No more of this incompetence. Show us where they are and we will do it,” Duras said.
“No,” Gurn said, surprising Duras. “This is our world and our fight.”
Karel smiled. Gurn obviously had some pride.
Duras nodded, keeping his anger in check. “Then we shall accompany you to observe and provide assistance if you need it.” His voice was back to its overpolite tones.
A few moments later they were back on the surface, and Gurn sent messengers off to collect his people. It took several minutes and tried Duras’s patience. Obviously, some of the natives had a limited mastery of the Orion weapons and technology. They still did not use communicators, instead relying on direct contact. Yet here Gurn was, trying to lead them into the middle of a brewing interstellar conflict.
Finally, Gurn had a dozen armed Klingons and four of the Orion weapons platforms, and the group moved out. For the natives, that must have represented an overwhelming force. He doubted that this Adon would be able to stand against it. That was a shame. Karel had already decided he liked him.
The combined group marched to the outskirts of a small village, and Karel had the feeling that he was stepping into his own people’s past. “Destroy them, kill every last one of them!” Gurn said.
“Wait!” Karel said reflexively.
“Is there a problem, First Officer Karel?” Duras said, putting an emphasis on his rank.
“This is not a very honorable fight.”
“This is our fight,” Gurn said to Karel. Then he turned to his soldiers and the pilots hovering nearby. “Leave no one standing.”
Karel’s blood boiled at the thought of the uneven massacre to come. Apparently, even Gurn’s men were unsure. They hesitated and looked at their leader. “Do it now!” Gurn screamed, and two of the weapons platforms moved forward, trained their energy weapons on one of the simple, wood dwellings, and fired. The home went up in a burst of flame and exploding wood.
There should have been screams, movement from the destroyed home or one of the others nearby. But there was only silence. The platforms moved forward again and struck another home. Another explosion and more silence. Karel realized that the village was empty.
When they’d arrived, no one was about, and Karel had assumed that the natives were hiding in their homes. Now he realized the entire clan had disappeared. The ground fighters moved forward and started checking the houses. Each was empty. Karel smiled and realized that he would like to meet this Adon.
Duras was furious. “You promised me the crystals!” he said, both anger and a warning in his voice.
Gurn’s bravado disappeared. “We will find these crystals. And we can double our efforts in the mine—”
“We are about to fight a war. We need them now!” Then Duras stopped to collect himself. He smiled and forced a pleasant expression on his face. Karel thought it made him look even more menacing. “We shall do this together. The first step in our new partnership.”
Chapter Eighteen
SYSTEM 7348
FEDERATION SPACE
FULLER ENTERED SICKBAY with the rest of the squad, except for Jawer, who was already there, sitting at the bedside of the young woman named Cyndy. The ensign looked embarrassed and stood up to greet them.
“Hello, Mister Fuller,” Christine said.
Fuller nodded. “Just came by to see how you were all making out.”
Suddenly, the man with braces on his arms—Alan—was on his feet. “We’re all fine, thanks to your rescue.”
“Alan, don’t,” Christine said.
He ignored her and took a step toward Fuller. “You killed them, you know.”
The rest of sickbay drew a collective breath.
“Excuse me?” Fuller said.
“Tomas and Ronald, you killed them.”
“If you are referring to the two deceased members of your group, the fact is that the Klingons killed them. According to your own story, they killed Tomas in the initial attack on your ship and Ronald later.”
“You created this situation,” Alan said, contempt in his voice. “Your Starfleet with your weapons, your tools of Federation expansionism. You chew up and spit out new systems, pillaging them and leaving them dead husks.”
Fuller knew better than to get into an argument with an irrational, angry civilian, but he could not resist saying, “Odd that you should say that when each system that joins the Federation enjoys unprecedented trade, peace, and prosperity. Stubborn facts, I’m afraid.” He turned to the others. “I’m glad you are all doing well, but we have duties.”
“More murder,” Alan said, and Fuller felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
Fuller decided to let it go and turned away, but Parmet stepped forward. “As a matter of fact, this man has saved more lives than you will ever infect with your stupidity, and his son just a few months ago led a mission to rescue fifty-nine of your Anti-Federation friends,” Parmet said, his face reddening.
“So your son is a murderer too,” Alan said to Fuller.
Something threatened to tear loose inside Fuller, and for a moment it took every bit of control he had to keep him from hitting the man in the face.
Alan went on, “It’s a family business. You take your weapons into space, seek out new races to subjugate, and then call yourselves heroes for killing them when they finally stand up to you. Did you teach your son how to kill, Mister Fuller, or was he a natural?”
Something snapped inside Fuller. He knew the man in front of him
wasn’t worth it, but he felt his fist balling itself on its own. He raised his hands, and the only thing that stopped him was that someone else acted first. Another fist came flying through the air and caught Alan right on the chin.
The strong blow sent the man backward into the bed. Fuller turned to see that it had been Parmet, who was nearly choking on his own fury and still had his hand raised as if ready to strike again. Fuller said, “Enough.” And Parmet froze where he was, his chest heaving, staring daggers at Alan, who was looking up at them dumbly.
When the man could finally speak, he pointed to Parmet. “He tried to kill me. This man tried to kill me.”
Fuller shook his head. “That’s impossible, if he had tried to kill you, you would be dead now.”
“What’s going on here?” a voice asked from behind them. It was Doctor McCoy, who was looking at them with a raised eyebrow.
“Doctor, I want to report that this officer assaulted me,” Alan said, pointing to Parmet. Then he shifted to Fuller. “And he was harassing me.”
“I find that very hard to believe,” McCoy said.
“But he hit me!” Alan said, his voice a high-pitched whine.
“Well, that’s just plain unlikely.” Something in McCoy’s tone told Fuller that McCoy had seen the whole exchange or enough of it.
“You’re not going to do anything?” Alan said, frank disbelief in his voice.
“On the contrary, I’m going to release you immediately. Two security officers will be here in a moment to escort you to your quarters, where you will stay. My medical advice would be to be extremely polite to your escorts. Once there, you can file whatever complaints you wish.”
For the first time since they’d arrived, Alan was speechless. A moment later, he was whisked away by two guards. “Mister Fuller, I’m afraid that visiting hours are now over,” McCoy said.
“Understood, Doctor.” Then Fuller turned his attention to Jawer. “You’re on duty as of now, Ensign.”
Jawer nodded and said a quiet good-bye to the young woman in the bed, and the squad left sickbay.
“Next time, I’m not going to rescue him unless he apologizes for his behavior and says please,” Jawer said. There was a burst of laughter from the squad, and Fuller was surprised to see that some of it came from his own mouth. Glancing over at Parmet, Fuller saw that one of the squad wasn’t laughing. His face was red and the naked fury was still there in his eyes.
“Get me the Klingons on-screen,” Kirk said. A moment later, the Klingon battle cruiser appeared on the main viewscreen. He stood, his body reflexively reacting to the threat the warship posed.
“The Klingons are holding position,” Spock said. “Sensors show no power to their weapons, though their shields are at full strength.”
Kirk nodded. That was fair enough. The Enterprise’s own shields were at full power as well. “Why not? They’re on a diplomatic mission. Uhura, send out hails on all frequencies used on our last visit here.”
“Aye, Captain,” Uhura’s hands worked the controls. The last time they were here, the local leader, Gorath—whose people had a large hand in defeating the Orions—had asked for his people to be left alone. He had seen what involvement in the larger galactic community had nearly brought to his planet and wanted no more to do with it. Kirk couldn’t blame him, but the galactic community had come to them in the form of the Klingons. And for whatever reason, Gorath had apparently agreed to talk to them.
“No response to hails in the mining complex or in any of the portable transmitter-receivers,” Uhura said.
Kirk was not surprised. The planet had stopped talking to Starfleet some time ago. Kirk was prepared for this. “Lieutenant, hail the communicator we gave to Gorath himself.” The captain had given that device to the Klingon leader personally—a final fail-safe method of communication.
A few seconds passed. And then a few more. Finally Uhura said, “No response.”
That did surprise Kirk. He and his crew had earned Gorath’s respect, but something strange was going on here. Kirk knew he needed to get to the bottom of it, and fast. The Klingons had already been here for too long, with too many opportunities for mischief. “Lieutenant, send a message to all receivers in the mining complex. Tell them to prepare for our immediate arrival.”
“I have a response, audio only,” Uhura said.
Kirk nodded to her. “This is Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise. I wish to speak with Gorath.”
“This is clan leader Gurn.” Kirk recognized the tell-tale sound of the translator at work.
“Is Gorath available?”
“I lead my people, you may speak to me.”
“I ask again, is Gorath available?”
“Captain, what do you want?”
“We wish to meet with your people to continue discussing your relationship with the Federation. We are also here to monitor the visit by the Klingon diplomatic team. We have reason to believe you may be in some danger.”
There was a laugh on the other end. “We are in no danger. The Klingons come to us in friendship.” Something was definitely going on here. And whatever it was, this Gurn was part of it.
“We also come in friendship. We would like to meet with you to discuss the future of your planet.” For now, at least, Gurn was apparently the one Kirk would have to deal with—at least until he could reach Gorath.
“We can decide our own future. We have no need or desire to meet with you. Please leave this system at once.” Gurn paused. “Will you respect our wishes? My Klingon advisers have made it clear that you represent a threat to my people. They have told us the truth about the Federation’s involvement in the Orion mine. I’m telling you for the last time, Captain. Leave this system immediately.” Then there was a click as the connection was broken.
Kirk looked over at Spock, who said, “An interesting development. Clearly, the local leader is in league with the Klingons.”
Kirk had been afraid of just this kind of situation when he had decided to effect the rescue that had delayed their arrival. Now they were not welcome. Well, Kirk had been instructed to use diplomacy, to approach the situation delicately to try to diffuse any tension in the system while the diplomats kept working on the larger situation with the Klingon Empire. If possible, he was to make sure that the first shots of a war with the empire were not fired in this system. On the other hand, he was under orders to make sure that the Klingons did not get their hands on the dilithium under the planet’s surface.
“Our options would appear to be limited,” Spock said.
“Not completely,” Kirk said. “We’re going to beam down and talk to them in person. Mister Spock, our landing site will be Gorath’s village. Feed coordinates to the transporter room and to the helm. Mister Sulu, take us out of range of the Klingon vessel’s weapons, but keep us in transporter range of the landing site.”
“Aye, sir.” Almost immediately, Sulu started adjusting orbit to make that possible.
Hitting a button on his command chair, the captain said, “Kirk to Giotto. Are your security teams ready?”
“Yes, sir,” Giotto answered.
“Have them meet me in the transporter room.” Getting up, Kirk turned to his first officer. “You have the conn.”
Kirk found the security teams waiting for him in the transporter room. Fuller and his team were assembled, as were Greenberger and his team. Lieutenant Parrish was there as well. Of course, she had been on the first mission to the planet and had fought well against the Orions. Earlier she had briefed both teams on the mine and the area. Now she was there to see her old squad off.
She hadn’t done that before the rescue mission, but Kirk understood why. Now the team had been tested together and would not be distracted by their attachment to their former leader.
He looked over the men and women waiting to beam down and wondered what he was sending them into. I should be going with them, he thought. It was tempting, but clearly impossible with a Klingon cruiser a few thousand kilometers
away.
Fuller was more than up to this command. If Kirk had had any doubts about him before, they had disappeared during the rescue mission. If force was required, Fuller could handle himself as well as any officer Kirk had ever known. And if finesse was required, Fuller could manage that as well.
Kirk briefed them quickly on what he knew and laid out the two most important mission parameters. “First, you are to establish a Federation presence on the planet. Whatever is going on there, let the Klingons know we won’t tolerate any mischief in our backyard. Second, find out what has happened there in the last few weeks. Has there been a transfer of power among the natives? Find Gorath if you can and find out if the Klingons are behind whatever changes have happened.”
Fuller’s team stepped onto the transporter pads.
Kirk added, “Good luck, Michael. Good luck to you all.”
“Thank you, Captain. If you would give the word …,” Fuller said.
“Energize,” Kirk said. A few moments later, Greenberger’s team had also dematerialized, leaving Kirk and Parrish to consider the empty pads. They left the transporter room together in silence. In the corridor, Kirk said, “Doctor McCoy told me that you have made your decision.”
“Yes, Captain, and I want to thank you for helping me do that.”
“Me?”
“Yes, sir. Something you said about not sacrificing who we are even when it serves the greater good.”
Kirk remembered saying something like that in the meeting before the rescue mission. For a moment, he was uncomfortable with the responsibility there. The decision to go ahead with the rescue was sound, but only time would tell what the cost of that decision would be on the surface of this planet and to the Federation.
Kirk stopped in front of the turbolift door.
