by Kevin Ryan
“What are they moving?”
“Personnel.” After a moment the Vulcan added, “Interesting, they are transporting several members of the crew at a time to the planet’s surface.”
“How many?” Kirk asked.
“Thirty so far and they are continuing.”
“They could be troops. If the Klingons are readying for an assault on the landing party—”
“Unlikely, Captain. The crew is being transported to another continent, more than two thousand kilometers away from the inhabited part of the planet. In fact, there are no natives in this area.”
“What?”
“Transport complete. One hundred and seven members of the crew are now at that location. Now the transporters are being reactivated. They are sending heavy equipment down to the area around the mine.”
Kirk had heard enough. “Lieutenant Uhura, get me Captain Koloth. Let’s find out what kind of heavy equipment the Klingons need for their diplomatic mission. And maybe we’ll find out what’s going on here.”
“No response to hails,” Uhura said.
That wasn’t good. Kirk was immediately on his feet. “Get me Councillor Duras.”
“I have him on the surface,” Uhura said.
A moment later, the councillor’s voice came from the intercom: “Captain Kirk.”
“Councillor, I am concerned about the recent transporter activity. If you are moving heavy weapons to the planet, understand that I will deal very strongly with any threat to the landing party.”
“Captain, I am under no obligation to reveal to you the nature of our dealings or our trade with the natives of the planet. However, in the interests of peaceful cooperation, I will tell you we are providing spare parts and upgraded communications and mining equipment.”
Kirk knew when he was being lied to. It was time to bring this confrontation out in the open. “Councillor, in the interests of peaceful cooperation, I will inform you of our ongoing negotiations with the legitimate planetary authorities. They have generously given us their complete supply of dilithium crystals.” Kirk paused, letting that sink in.
Finally, the councillor said, “Really, Captain?”
“Councillor Duras, I tire of these games. We both know that you came here to acquire the crystals, since the Klingon Empire failed to get them previously from their Orion agents who built the mine. You also failed to take the crystals from Starbase 42. You just failed again. If you want any of the planet’s dilithium, you had better be prepared for a long stay. Our estimates show that it will be months before the mine produces any significant number of new crystals.”
When Duras replied, his voice was smooth. “Captain, as you know, the Klingon Empire denies any involvement in the Orion operation here. And the incident at Starbase 42 was the result of a rogue operation by one of our commanders. As for the dilithium currently in your possession, you misunderstand the Klingon Empire’s clearly stated position. We are here to talk to the native Klingons on this world. We do not seek their mineral wealth, we merely desire an opportunity to develop ties with a race of brothers. Frankly, I find your suspicion and insinuation insulting.”
There was a click as the councillor broke the line.
“Fascinating,” Spock said.
“Jim, he sounds like a man who thinks he’s still holding a few good cards,” McCoy said.
“My thinking exactly, Bones, but which ones?”
There was no answer, but Kirk had not expected one. Whatever was going on here, Kirk was sure of one thing: the situation had just become even more dangerous.
Karel was surprised to see that his captain and the others were unconscious but alive. He called to the ship and was not surprised when there was no response. Duras had obviously taken the ship and had gotten Koloth and all those loyal to him out of the way. The only remaining questions were why he had done it and where had he put them. The hand scanners could find no sign of the mine. They could be anywhere on the planet. And wherever they were, he was sure it was far from the mine. Duras would take no chances now.
Karel ordered Gash and his men to check on each of the crew, to see if all were alive. For the moment, they were out of options. No, Karel had one thing he could do; it just wasn’t an appealing option. Pulling out his communicator, he said, “Karel to Duras.”
A moment later, Duras came on the line. “Yes, First Officer Karel?” His voice was even, pleasant actually.
“What are you doing, Councillor Duras?”
“What am I doing? I am striking a blow for the empire, something you are too weak and bloodless to understand.”
“You have taken action against the captain and crew of a Klingon battle cruiser, not the enemies of the empire.”
“I do what I must to serve the empire. I offered you the D’k Tahg, but you refused me, choosing loyalty to your pathetic captain rather than the greater interests of the Klingon people. I presume Koloth is still unconscious, lying on the ground at your feet—while I am about to set into motion the most glorious chapter of the history of the Klingon Empire.”
“By attacking in darkness, by using gas and transporters to betray your people?” Karel snapped.
“By achieving victory. You made your choice, now you will die with your captain.”
So Duras did intend to kill them, but why hadn’t he already? Karel realized that he knew: Duras wanted to gloat first, to revel in his victory as he enjoyed Koloth’s and Karel’s defeat. Such would be their penalty for standing against him.
“I will kill you,” Karel said.
“You are now an ocean away from the mine and you have no weapons or vehicles that can reach us, but by all means bluster away, Karel. While you do, I am going to destroy this world. But fear not, you will make a contribution to my victory. My report will show that the Earthers destroyed the planet, killing all of our Klingon brothers, and, unfortunately, Captain Koloth, you, and the rest of your pathetic crew. However, we will avenge you and destroy the Enterprise in your names. The war begins here, the result of a cowardly attack by Earthers on a defenseless Klingon people. The entire empire will rise up in fury and crush the Federation for its treachery. You will be remembered as heroes, which is more than you deserve, but one of the sacrifices I am prepared to make.”
“You would kill an entire world of people of Klingon blood, in service of a lie?”
“This is war. No victory is won without sacrifice. Great leaders understand that, while lesser Klingons like you and Koloth die helpless as the battle rages around you.”
The empire had built the mine and then tried to destroy the world to hide their involvement. Now, Duras was going to finish the job to launch a dishonorable war. A moment of insight told Karel something even more important.
“You built the mine. The orders came from the High Council.”
There was silence on the other end for a moment. “Yes, I did. The failure of that operation cost me quite a bit with the council as well. This operation will change all that however.”
The councillor spoke for a few more seconds, but Karel wasn’t listening. His mind was stuck on one essential piece of information: Duras authorized the operation to build the mine.
According to the information he had gained from the informant on Qo’noS, the same member of the High Council that had built the mine had instituted the infiltrator program that had swallowed his brother.
“You know quite a bit for such a pathetic servant of mediocrity. Well, you soon will take that knowledge to the River of Blood with you.”
A bellow of rage escaped from Karel’s throat. When it subsided, he realized that Duras had broken the line. There was noise behind him. Captain Koloth was on his feet and some of the others were starting to stir.
He could see rage on his captain’s face. “First Officer Karel, report!” Koloth demanded.
Chapter Twenty-two
SYSTEM 7348
FEDERATION SPACE
“MICHAEL, I’M PARTICULARLY CONCERNED about the heavy equipment that they’re moving
in,” the captain’s voice said through Fuller’s communicator. “Duras is planning something, but it seems to have nothing to do with dilithium, at least for the moment.”
“I can think of one way to upset his plans, whatever they are. Adon is planning an assault on the mining facility,” Fuller said.
“I see.”
Interesting. Fuller had just told the captain that a race that was completely preindustrial less than a year ago was planning to attack a much larger force with modern weapons and the help of the Klingon Empire—and Kirk simply accepted that without question or comment. Of course, Fuller had read the reports. He knew about the captain’s feelings about these people in general, and Adon’s father in particular.
“Have they asked you for help?” Kirk said.
“They have, Captain, and under the circumstances I am inclined to give it.”
“I authorize you to take whatever action you deem necessary to protect Adon’s clan and the interests of the Federation. What do you need?”
“We could use some more phaser rifles, one for each of us.”
“Done. We’ll monitor the situation from space.” Fuller noticed that the captain had stopped short of promising help from the ship’s weapons if it came to it, and Fuller understood why. Something strange was going on aboard the Klingon warship. Dissent? Mutiny? Whatever it was, it had put half of the crew an ocean away.
There was an excellent chance that the Enterprise would be too busy to intervene directly when things started on the surface. That meant that Fuller would have to assume that the landing party would be operating on its own.
“Kirk out.”
Fuller closed his communicator and turned to the landing party. It was time to tell his people what they were up against.
“Are you mad?” Koloth said to Karel, shouting. Most of the crew were on their feet by now and looking over at their captain and first officer.
“It is the one thing that Duras doesn’t expect, the one response he cannot plan for,” Karel said.
“But the Earthers …”
“Captain, we have no weapons that can reach Duras, no method of stopping him from destroying us and our brothers. He left us with our uniforms, our hand weapons, and our communicators—and only one of those things can help us now.”
“But the Earthers are our enemies.”
“I would say that Duras, who threatens us all and insults the honor of the empire, is our enemy. We are not at war with the Earthers at the moment. When we are, I will leave not one of them standing. Until then, the enemy of my enemy—”
“Is still my enemy but may be useful,” Koloth said, finishing the phrase.
Karel lowered his voice. “I have told you my brother’s story. This Kirk is an honorable man. He risked his own life and the lives of his crew to protect this world from Duras’s greed and treachery once before. Kirk earned my brother’s loyalty, and we have nothing to lose by seeking a temporary alliance with him now.”
Koloth silently considered Karel for a moment. The captain was weighing his suggestion and Karel could see that it was not because of its merits as a plan but because as unpleasant as it was, it was their only option—at least the only one that had even a chance of stopping Duras.
Yet Karel could see the resistance in his commander and understood it. Klingons were raised on tales of Earthers’ treachery and cowardice. Officers in the Klingon Defense Force were schooled on similar stories about Starfleet. Kirk held a special place in many of those stories.
Karel’s brother Kell had proven the falsehood of those tales, and Karel had told Koloth his brother’s story. However, a single wild report from his first officer might not be enough to combat all the information fed to Koloth in his lifetime and career.
“Better for a warrior to die with his pride intact,” he said.
“And better still to take victory with honor,” Karel said.
“Then know this: if I humble myself before this Earther and we do not taste victory, you will be immediately demoted from first officer to a junior trainee weapons officer.”
Karel smiled at that. If they did not taste victory—and soon—they would never live to return to the ship. On that level, the risk to Karel’s career was small. “Fair terms, Captain,”
The last batch of phaser rifles came down and Fuller distributed them. He had offered Adon and his people phasers, but they had politely refused. They were more comfortable with the particle-beam pistols they had recovered from the Orion mine. Fuller understood. It was better to go into a fight with weapons you knew well. And from what Fuller had seen as Adon and his people took practice shots, they knew their weapons very well indeed.
He also saw them practicing with swords he clearly recognized as mek’leths—a small variation on the bat’leth that he had seen used to such deadly effect at the Battle of Donatu V. Quite a few of the people seemed skilled with the weapons, moving like masters of a refined martial art. From what Fuller understood, the weapons were for hunting and sport. Until recently, there had been no fighting among clans in this planet’s history for as far back as it could be measured.
Until the Klingons came, he thought.
Fuller had to remind himself that these natives were Klingons, at least biologically. Perhaps they represented what Klingons could have become or should have remained had they not spent centuries perfecting methods of killing one another and then exported those methods to the stars.
Now Klingons were nothing more than a disease infecting the galaxy, devouring everything in their path—even these innocent people who represented whatever Klingons had that passed for a better nature. Well, whatever the empire’s plans were today, Fuller would do his best to keep them from being successful. In this endeavor, at least, he had the help of two full squads of Starfleet officers and an unlikely group of natives.
When that job was done, Fuller hoped he would have an opportunity to do even more. He would take the kind of action that was necessary when dealing with species like the Klingons, but that the Federation too often refused to take out of principle. Well, survival was the only principle Fuller respected now. His job was to help ensure the Federation survived. He had seen too many people—Sam included—give their lives to protect it.
Fuller would do what he had to do now to see that those sacrifices were not in vain, and that would mean getting his hands dirty. He was determined to do whatever it took.
“Fuller,” a voice called from behind him, and Fuller turned to see Andrews approach him.
“Sam …” It was impossible; Sam Andrews had given his life twenty-five years ago so that Fuller could have a chance to return home to see his son born. He had named his son after Sam Andrews….
“Fuller, are you okay?” Greenberger asked. Andrews disappeared and in his place stood Section Chief Greenberger. The man was thinner than Andrews, without even a hint of resemblance between them. How in heaven’s name had Fuller seen Andrews in him? He knew the answer to that, and he knew it wasn’t good. It didn’t say much for his long-term mental health prospects.
Of course, Fuller had ceased worrying about his long-term prospects years ago. Whatever good he accomplished, he would have to do in the short term. Still, he willed himself to keep it together. He owed that much to the men and women who were still depending on him to see them through this mission.
“I’m fine. Let’s take our inventory,” he said.
He and Greenberger walked through the assembled Starfleet and native people. Adon had two weapons platforms, and Fuller had seen Adon and the young woman in action—they were expert pilots. The natives also had an ore hauler, which Adon had stolen from the mine on the day he had taken the dilithium. Adon’s people wanted nothing to do with the hauler because it was slow and lumbering. To Fuller, it seemed like a good armored vehicle that would provide cover and a mobile defensive position. And Quatrocchi would be able to fly it.
They had fourteen security people, each with a phaser II pistol and a phaser rifle, which for the mom
ent were slung over their backs. They also had forty native men and women, half of whom were armed with Orion pistols and all of whom carried the Klingon swords. Adon had offered blades to the security officers, and Fuller had left the decision up to the individuals. All of them had accepted except for Parmet and, of course, Fuller himself. He had held and used an authentic bat’leth years ago and had not picked up another Klingon-built weapon voluntarily since.
Adon stood in front of his people and addressed them in their language. Fuller noted that some traditions crossed almost all cultures, though it was jarring to hear Klingon spoken by this young man he had come to respect.
Fuller took his position in the ore hauler with his squad. Greenberger and the others were in front of them below and would make up the ground forces. Fuller began, “You all know why we are here. Our mission is clear: stop the Klingons from getting a foothold in Federation space. For the moment, they are in league with certain native elements and have control of the dilithium mine. But the dilithium they came for is safely on board the Enterprise. It’s going to be up to us to see to it that this is a total loss for the empire today. We’re going to take the mine and make sure it is never used against the Federation. Now, it won’t be easy. We’ll be attacking a fortified position and facing greater numbers who will be very well armed. On the other hand, I have seen for myself what you are capable of. And we do have some help.” Fuller gestured to the natives assembled around Adon. “It has been an honor and a privilege to serve with you on the Enterprise. We’ve lost good people to the Klingons, and yet it seems like we are barely in the beginning of what may come. Well, today, we can have something to say about how things will end. The empire understands one thing: force. Up until now they have been a race of conquerors who have moved virtually unchecked through their portion of the galaxy. Starfleet and the Federation have different beliefs, we live by different principles, but we also understand force. And today I say we teach the Klingons about that force. They have fought humans before and have not won a single major battle against us. I think it’s time for another lesson.”
