by Kevin Ryan
“Lieutenant, shoot them now,” Fox said evenly.
As soon as the words left his mouth, twin laser beams lashed out and struck each Klingon full in the chest, the heavy stun setting sending them flying backward to the floor. Fox took a moment’s satisfaction at the stunned surprise on the security team.
“Your diplomacy is pretty effective,” Fenig said.
“Years of study and training to master the subtleties,” Fox replied, returning the man’s smile. Then the group was on the move, rounding the corner to the right and racing toward the docking bay. A human in civilian clothes was waiting to greet them—most likely their pilot, Fox guessed.
“Lieutenant,” the man called out.
Fenig checked his tricorder and said, “Brace yourselves.” Fox saw the security people grab hold of the wall and did the same. A moment later, the deck shook under his feet. Then he felt an outward pressure, like centrifugal force, pushing him against the outer wall.
“The Kraith just had a malfunction in their thruster system. We need to disembark before the rotational speed of the station gets too high,” Fenig said.
A moment later, two humans came running down the corridor, firing behind them as they ran. “They’re with us … our malfunction team. Okay, everybody inside,” Fenig said, pushing Fox’s aides through the docking port and into the shuttle. Fox insisted on going last. By the time he was inside, he saw the five security people right behind him. Fenig hit the docking port hatch and said, “Get us out of here.”
As Fox tried to find a seat, he saw the planet speed past a shuttle window. The station must be rotating quickly now, he realized. A moment later he heard a click and the shuttle shot away from the structure, and he could see they were in open space.
As Fox took his seat, he could see they were in a standard diplomatic shuttle. That meant there was little in the way of shielding. “The station is armed. They can fire at us.”
“They can try. If they do, they’ll have a pretty serious weapons malfunction,” Fenig said.
“Warp speed now,” the pilot said, and Fox saw the stars suddenly streak past the front windows.
“The Klingons won’t give up. They will try to pursue,” Fox said. And unlike Federation diplomatic shuttles, Klingon diplomatic ships were heavily armed.
“Well, they will no doubt try,” Fenig said. “Unfortunately for them, they will find that the magnetic clamps holding their vessel to the station have also malfunctioned. They won’t be able to release them without significant trouble, and by then the rotational force will probably have torn the ship free. I’m afraid they’ll be facing a considerable repair bill either way.”
“Federation space in fifteen minutes. No sign of pursuit,” the pilot announced.
Fox turned to his people and smiled. Then he turned back to Fenig. “All of your people made it out?”
“Yes, we were lucky today,” Fenig said.
When the pilot announced they had made it to Federation space, Fox felt the last bit of weight lift from his chest. They were safe. That reminded him of something.
“Lieutenant Fenig, is it time to thank you yet?” Fox asked.
“Sure. It’s as good a time as any. But I think we owe you some thanks as well. We wouldn’t have all come through this in one piece without your interesting use of diplomacy.”
Fox smiled.
Chapter Twenty-four
U.S.S. ENTERPRISE
SYSTEM 7348
THE ENTERPRISE HAD BARELY cleared orbit when Spock announced, “Klingon vessel is preparing to fire disruptors.”
“Evasive action,” Kirk said.
Kirk didn’t feel a weapons hit. A moment later, Spock said, “Glancing blow on port shields, no damage.” That made sense, they had to be at the extreme range of the battle cruiser’s weapons.
If Koloth was on the planet, who was in command of the ship?
“Give us some more room, Mister Sulu. Full impulse perpendicular to the orbital plane,” Kirk said.
“Incoming message,” Uhura said.
“Audio only,” Kirk replied.
“Cowardly Earthers, you may run, but it will not save you,” a Klingon voice said.
A taunt, in the middle of battle? Who was this commander? Kirk wondered. “Klingon vessel, you are in violation of Federation space. Your hostility will not be tolerated.” Kirk kept an eye on Sulu, who turned and nodded.
“Is this the great coward, James T. Kirk? It will be my pleasure to rid the galaxy of you and your treachery.”
“Cease fire or prepare to be destroyed.”
The Klingon laughed. “You show me your back as you retreat and yet you make threats?”
“Cut audio, Lieutenant Uhura. Mister Spock?”
“Klingon vessel is at extreme weapons range, still in pursuit. Wait, I’m showing—Klingon vessel has launched two torpedoes.”
“Rear view,” Kirk said. Instantly, the viewscreen showed the Klingon vessel in the distance and twin glowing torpedoes heading away from the ship and quickly approaching the Enterprise.
“We are at extreme range for torpedoes. Detonation in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one,” Spock said.
There was a flash as the torpedoes exploded a short distance outside the ship’s shields.
“No damage,” Spock said.
“I have the Klingons,” Uhura said.
“Surrender now and you will die quickly,” the Klingon voice said, then cut the line.
More taunts? It was absurd, but it did show Kirk two things. First, the Klingon commander was not very experienced. And second, the reports Kirk had seen from Starfleet intelligence were correct: despite the empire’s recent setbacks, Klingon command did not think much of humans, particularly in battle. Well, Kirk would be happy to give this commander something new to think about.
“Mister Sulu, prepare to come about on my mark. I’ll want a full barrage of torpedoes.”
“Aye, sir,” Sulu said.
Karel’s blood burned. He had found his brother’s killer. In moments, he would be in battle with Duras, who had dishonored Karel’s brother and taken his captain’s ship to bring further dishonor on the Klingon Empire. Duras had to die, and when it happened, it would be by Karel’s hand.
As first officer, he would be in the first group to transport over with Koloth. He and the captain would be the first to join the battle. Karel waited impatiently.
And waited.
Finally, Koloth’s communicator beeped. The captain answered the device, and Karel could see from his commander’s face that the news was not good.
“The D’k Tahg has attacked the Enterprise. There will be no transport until the battle is done. And even then …” Koloth put the communicator away.
Only if our ship is defeated by the Enterprise, Karel finished silently. He growled in frustration. If Duras and the D’k Tahg won, he would die, helplessly, on the planet with the native Klingons. If the humans won, they might have no ship to go back to. And if the battle took too long, the planet might be destroyed in the meantime and Karel would never take his revenge.
Karel found that the thought of his own death didn’t bother him in the least. But the thought that Duras might live to see another day, that was intolerable!
A howl of rage gathered in Karel’s chest, making its way to his throat and filling the air around them.
Koloth waited until he was finished and said, “We will not stand here and do nothing.” Calling to a nearby officer, he said, “What direction is the mine?”
The Klingon checked his scanner and pointed across the field. “We’re going!” Koloth called out.
“Captain, it is two thousand kilometers away,” Karel found himself saying.
“Yes,” Koloth replied evenly.
“And there is an ocean.”
“Then we had better get started,” Koloth said, perfect seriousness in his voice and face.
“You heard the captain, move out!” Karel said. As a group, the remaining loyal
crew of the D’k Tahg started their trek.
As he walked, Karel felt his rage turn from frustration to a fine, pointed instrument. He was glad to have a task, and he saw the wisdom of Koloth’s orders. Even if they died, it would be doing something. Not waiting like trigaks for the slaughter.
The Enterprise was in battle. To Fuller, that meant he and the others would be on their own. In some ways, that made things easier. There were things that Fuller had to do that Captain Kirk would never allow, could never allow.
Simply having a thought like that at almost any other point in his career would have disturbed Fuller. But Sam’s death had changed a lot of things for him. It had also freed him to do the things he knew were necessary without worrying about his own future.
Fuller’s squad was on the ore hauler with him. He briefed them quickly, then Adon and Greenberger by communicator. “We have to assume that Duras has already set a warp-core breach.” That was the method the Klingons had tried to use last time. The Enterprise had barely prevented the breach, which would have ejected the warp core deep into the crust of the planet and torn it to pieces.
“No, sir. He won’t be able to eject the warp core, at least not easily,” Jawer interrupted. The ensign had been on the previous mission to the planet and had had a direct hand in preventing the warp-core explosion. “The warp core needed some attention and we didn’t have much time, but before we left, we built in some safety protocols on Captain Kirk’s orders. It would take some time for the Klingons to work around them. However, if they wanted to be sure this time, they would probably use a kinetic explosive, set deeper in the shaft. That would also take them some time, but much less.”
Fuller nodded. “The plan remains the same: we are going to take this mine, and it looks like we have good reason to hurry.” The combined Starfleet/native force moved closer. Fuller scanned his squad—they were alert and focused.
“We’re with you, sir,” Ensign Parmet said. There was determination in the young man’s eyes. Determination … and something else—respect, admiration. When they had first met, Parmet had surprised him with his knowledge of Fuller’s career. Like others who’d seen his record, Parmet had made a common mistake. He had thought successful missions were the result of Fuller’s doing instead of what they really were: the result of sacrifices made by better men and women.
Parmet had called Fuller a hero. Well, Fuller had known plenty of heroes, and they all had one thing in common: they were dead and their names were on a large wall at Starfleet Command. One of those names was Samuel Fuller.
The earnestness on Parmet’s face pained him. Whatever happened to this young man in the next few hours, that look and the feeling behind it would not survive the day.
The native’s young leader favored a frontal assault and Fuller agreed. However, for the plan to work, the Klingons would have to come out and face them. A short time later, Fuller could see the entrance to the mine through the trees. Soon, the entire group was massed at the end of the tree line. Only two hundred meters remained between them and the mine. There was no one to meet them. With any luck that would change in a few moments.
From his position in the hauler, Fuller nodded to Adon, who was nearby on an Orion weapons platform. Immediately, the young man raced forward, as the young woman who had been introduced as Bethe followed. They darted toward the entrance, and a moment later, automated guns started firing on the platforms. The two natives put their craft through a series of impressive maneuvers to dodge the constant fire from the ground-based disruptors.
Fuller saw the disruptors make a series of hits on the two weapons platforms’ shields. They were holding, but it was only a matter of time before they would be overwhelmed.
“Fire!” Fuller called out as he aimed and fired his own phaser rifle at the nearest automated disruptor. As he did, the thirteen other officers did the same. In the Enterprise’s first mission to this planet, the Starfleet team had taken out similar guns. The eight new automated guns replaced the weapons that had been placed there by the Orions. Fuller could see that they were powerful disruptors and that each had its own shield.
Duras had no doubt placed them there because he didn’t want to fight. And he didn’t need to fight to achieve his goals. He was simply waiting for the D’k Tahg to destroy the Enterprise and then carry out his plan to destroy the planet. Well, Fuller thought that James Kirk might give the councillor a surprise in space. It was now time to give the Klingons a surprise on the ground.
The guns didn’t last long under sustained phaser rifle fire. They each went with a satisfying explosion. It was a start. “Move forward slowly,” Fuller ordered. Quatrocchi glided the hauler toward the entrance, and Fuller took some preliminary shots at the doors to the mine. There was no response.
They could barrel in and start tearing apart the entrance and the ground floor of the mine, but Adon wanted to try to preserve as much of the facility as possible. Fuller’s orders were to cooperate with the natives, and he would try to do that for now. Later, he would likely have to abandon all of his orders, but that time wasn’t yet. And while they could make their assault through the ground level of the mine, it would be costly.
The advantage would be with the defenders, as it usually was. And here, the attackers would be forced through the bottleneck of the ground-floor administrative officers and the few ways down into the mine itself. They would be susceptible to booby traps and Klingon warriors picking them off from covered positions.
The Klingons didn’t even have to win the engagement, just hold up the assault until they could ensure the destruction of the mine.
“Sir, I have something,” Ensign Jawer said, his tricorder out and scanning. “I’m showing a power sink below the level of the warp reactor. They are definitely shunting power down into the main shaft of the mine.”
“In English, please,” Fuller said.
“The most likely reason to do that would be to feed a kinetic explosive device.”
“How long do we have?”
“No way to tell from here. There’s too much interference at that depth. It could be five minutes or five hours before the weapon is charged,” Jawer said.
Fuller didn’t like the sound of that. He could feel time slipping away from them. The squad looked at him, waiting for word, for some sign that he knew what to do. “It’s time for a slight change of strategy.” Pulling out his communicator, he hit the frequency that the Enterprise had sent him. “Fuller to Councillor Duras.”
After a brief pause, Duras replied, “Who is this?”
“I am the Earther who waits for you outside.”
“What do you want?”
“I want nothing. I demand that you meet my challenge and face us in open battle.”
“You cowardly Earthers are not worth the time of my warriors.”
“Warriors? Warriors that huddle in the dark and hide like frightened children, with their cowardly master?”
“You will die for that insult, Earther.”
“By whose hand, you bloodless targ? To strike me, you will have to come out of your hole.”
There was a howl of rage, then Duras said, “You will die soon enough.” Then there was a click as Duras cut the line.
“Interesting … strategy, Chief,” McCalmon said.
“Klingons have a hard time resisting open challenges. If he faces us outside, we’re in a better position. If he ignores the challenge and keeps his people inside, they’ll start to question his leadership,” Fuller said.
For the moment, they could do nothing but wait. Adon and the other pilot buzzed around the entrance, firing off the occasional shot. The wait was short, however, and Jawer announced he was reading Klingon life signs massing near the doors.
“Wait until they’re out in the open,” Fuller said. In this case he didn’t have any problem with shooting first, or with firing at enemies as they came out of a door. However, he needed as many of them to come outside as possible. The more they faced out here, the fewer they wo
uld have to face inside.
After a tense wait of perhaps two minutes, the large doors burst open and Klingons raced out. There’s something wrong, his mind screamed as he watched the armed Klingons come out, shooting disruptors at the Starfleet officers and their native allies. Then he saw what it was: they weren’t dressed like Klingons, they were dressed like natives.
Ten, twenty, thirty … they raced out, firing forward as they took positions along the front of the building. These weren’t the people he had come to fight. Finally, about sixty Klingons were outside, and Fuller could see that only a few more were inside. “Prepare to fire on my mark!” Fuller said, then his communicator beeped. “Fuller here.”
“This is Adon. Tell your people to wait. There is something I wish to try.”
“We don’t have much time.”
“I won’t need much time.”
“Stay back, Bethe, and watch very carefully. I may need your assistance,” Adon said.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“Just do as I ask,” Adon said, bracing himself for an argument.
To his surprise, she said, “I will be ready.” Her craft hovered in position near the front of the line of fighters waiting by the tree line.
Seeing that, Adon took his craft slowly and directly to the entrance of the mine. A number of shots hit his shield, but they were not serious—more like warnings than mortal blows.
When he was perhaps twenty paces from the mine, the fire stopped completely. He could see the faces of people he recognized looking at him. He saw the conflict there. He set down his craft and raised his hands, though he did not turn off the platform’s invisible protective shield. “Is Gurn among you?” he called out.
He heard, “no,” from several of the fighters who would be his enemies. “Is this the leadership he offers you? Who leads you in this battle? Who has the courage to come out and speak with me?”
After long seconds, one stepped forward, pointing a weapon at Adon that he did not recognize. It was Mureth, one of the leaders of the other clans. “I lead.”
“Would you kill the son of Gorath?” Adon said.
