Within the aft bay a Klaxon sounded. Helmets were donned and twisted into place, each man checking his neighbor’s seal. As soon as they were locked each suit automatically pressurized. Internal instrumentation would preserve proper atmosphere, humidity, and pressure as long as suit integrity remained intact. If any one of those critical life-support components failed, Kirk knew, it probably wouldn’t matter because the suit’s occupant would be dead before he realized it.
As they rose from their seats, they checked each other’s joints for leaks or unsecured gear. In front of them a port revealed the panorama outside. Beyond lay star field and, below, the surface of Vulcan. Kirk found himself wishing for the brilliant blue and white gleam of Earth. He could see at a glance how such a stark landscape could give rise to a personality as cold as that of the ship’s overbearing science officer. A moment later there was no more time for sightseeing.
“Disabling gravity on one,” announced the captain perfunctorily. Along with his companions Kirk reached for the nearest handhold. “Three, two—one.”
All three men rose slightly from the floor. Having undergone countless pertinent training exercises, they had no difficulty coping with the rapid loss of gravity, though Kirk felt slightly sick to his stomach at the sudden absence of weight. Or perhaps the nausea was due to something else.
“Good luck, men.” Pike hit another control.
Below the trio the shuttle’s doors snapped open. Instant compartment depressurization kicked them out as forcefully as if they had been shot from a catapult. Beneath and between them and the planetary surface lay thousands of kilometers of mostly nothing. Using their suits’ tiny individual, mechanical thrusters, they adjusted their descent attitude until they were rocketing along head-downward and in parallel.
It was the silence that struck Kirk. Free-falling in emptiness, he noticed there was no sound except the familiar pounding of his own heart and the bellows that were his lungs. Vulcan was rushing toward them at incredible speed, its desert surface threatening to rise up and smash them flat. Falling back on the special breathing exercises he had learned at the Academy, he fought to regulate his respiration and heart rate. Despite his best efforts they remained high. Had he been on board, with McCoy in attendance and privy to the relevant readings, the doctor would probably have rushed him to emergency without a second’s thought.
There was no emergency bay to go to here, he told himself. He glanced over at his plummeting companions.
They were the emergency.
Seconds after drop release they found themselves shooting groundward alongside the mammoth tether that connected the plasma drill to the Romulan vessel. Though they were plummeting toward the surface far too fast to make out many details, Kirk saw enough to convince him that the drill and its tether constituted yet another example of Romulan technology that represented a considerable leap over what was available to the Federation. How had so many scientific and military developments gone unnoticed and unreported upon? Didn’t the Federation have reliable contacts within the Romulan Empire?
He had other things to worry about. Descending at numbing velocity toward the planet below, he knew that just as they’d had one chance to hit the drop point, they would have one chance to land on the drill platform. Assuming their suits functioned flawlessly. Powerless, they could not reverse course. Shoot past, and the next stop would be one of Vulcan’s extensive desert plains.
At the appropriate instant, and guided by his suit’s instrumentation, Sulu deployed his chute. Fashioned of a superthin and super-strong nanocarbonweave variant even more remarkable than the one that comprised the outer shell of their dropsuits, it began to slow his descent immediately. Kirk opened his own chute at almost exactly the same instant.
A gleaming red blur shot past him, heading directly for the looming drill platform. Heedless of the fact that by saying anything he was upbraiding the actions of a superior officer, Kirk barely had time to shout a warning into his helmet pickup.
“Olson, pull now, now!”
Utterly lost in the moment, the chief engineer continued to hold back. He intended to show the two junior officers how it should be done. He was going to land on the platform ahead of them and commence its destruction even before they touched down. The drop had been exhilarating and had gone entirely according to plan. He almost laughed at the anguish in the younger man’s voice that was screaming in his ears.
“No problem, Cadet. Another second, another two, three…” The chief engineer finally deployed his chute. “See? Slow, slowing…”
Not slow enough.
Olson hit the platform hard but intact. The impact knocked the wind out of him and sent him slewing sideways across the curved metal shell. Stunned, he scrambled for a handhold on the slightly sloping surface as he slid toward the edge. Still deployed, his chute had caught air and was dragging him backward. Reaching out, he hit the control to retract the fabric. As he did so, he lost what grip he had and tumbled off the edge.
Fingers fumbled for the appropriate contact. He had failed in his attempt to land on the drill platform. Frustrated and angry at himself, all he could do now was redeploy the chute to descend safely to the surface below and…
His angle of descent sent him spinning toward the tornadic column of downward-driving plasma. Before he could reopen his chute, he made the slightest contact with its white-hot periphery.
Incineration was instantaneous.
X
A determined Kirk likewise came in rigidly, but the hard touchdown did not disable him or send him tumbling over the side, unlike the unfortunate and foolish Olson. As air pulled him sideways he quickly hit the retract control on his suit. Slits immediately materialized in his chute to virtually eliminate drag just before it retracted cleanly back into its compact storage compartment. As he scrambled to his feet he realized they had caught another break: even at this altitude the air was still and there was virtually no wind.
A shout in his helmet drew his attention to the far side of the platform. Having deployed his chute just a second or so before Kirk had caused Sulu to become entangled in the support strand and its main subsidiary cables. Now he was hanging upside down as the wind blew him back and forth. Strong as they were, his chute cables began to abrade against several metal strands. Unsealing his helmet and putting it aside, Kirk rushed to help his companion.
“Hang on! I’m coming for you!” he shouted upward.
As his chute cables started to part, one by one, Sulu struggled to climb up them in search of a stable perch. As he worked to right himself, movement near Kirk drew his attention.
“Behind you!”
Kirk spun just in time to see a startled Romulan rising from a hatch in the previously unbroken surface. Having detected the intruder, the guard started to raise the heavy rifle he was carrying. With less time to remove his own sidearm from its sealed compartment in his dropsuit, all Kirk could do was charge and hope. As he tackled the bigger humanoid, they both went down, grappling, punching, and kicking at each other atop the disk-shaped metal platform thousands of kilometers above the ground. There was no railing, nothing to keep either or both of them from sliding off into oblivion. Still wearing his suit, Kirk would probably survive the fall, but that would leave only Sulu to try and complete the mission on his own.
As they fought, a second guard emerged from another hatch and started to take aim with his own weapon. Desperately Kirk fought to keep the body of the Romulan with whom he was wrestling between himself and the newcomer. At the same time, his opponent was intent on doing the opposite: trying to present the human’s back to his cohort.
He was on the verge of doing so when Sulu landed atop the second guard and knocked his weapon out of his hands. Instead of rushing to try and recover it, thereby exposing his back to his assailant, the guard drew a vrelnac from its scabbard. The ceremonial sword would make slower but more satisfying work of the intruder. Keeping his eyes on the weapon, Sulu backed away warily. There was little space in which to
retreat.
Reaching around his stymied adversary, Kirk managed to pull the Romulan’s own vrelnac and skim it across the platform. Seeing it sliding toward the standing human, the Romulan confronting Sulu tried to cut short both the fight and his opponent. He never did quite figure out how the helmsman managed to avoid the strike he leveled, get around him, roll, and return to a standing position with the other guard’s sword held in one hand.
He was not the first foe to find himself taken aback by Sulu’s unexpected fighting prowess.
While the two exchanged blows, Kirk found himself tiring under the weight of his adversary. Struggling to break free, he caught first one punch and then another. Rocked by the impacts, he staggered backward, slipped—and went over the edge. At the last instant he managed to deploy his suit chute, only to see it snag on a projection. Reaching up desperately he managed to catch the edge of the platform.
He was caught between a fall of thousands of kilometers and one triumphant Romulan.
He only just managed to avoid the booted foot that descended toward one hand. Amused and relaxed now, the guard took his time raising the other foot before bringing it down. Guessing correctly, Kirk shifted his other hand to one side just in time to avoid the crunch. His adversary frowned. A short game to begin with, it was already growing tiresome. Next time he wouldn’t miss.
A most peculiar expression came over his face. Lowering his gaze, he was startled to see the business end of his own vrelnac protruding from his chest. As Sulu drew it back out, the dying guard tumbled forward past Kirk on the start of his journey toward the planetary surface far below, trailed by a few choice words from the human he had nearly killed. While Sulu whirled to deal with the remaining guard, Kirk hit a control on his suit. Retracting into its compartment, the jammed chute dragged him back up onto the platform. A short burst from his own sidearm finished the second guard.
Alone and alive together on the platform with the drill roaring away beneath them, they examined their surroundings anxiously.
“What now?” Sulu wondered aloud. “Olson had all of the explosives.”
As soon as the Romulan’s tractor beam locked onto the shuttle, Pike eased back in the pilot’s seat. It was out of his hands now. Any chance of flight or of changing his mind at the last possible second was gone. In a way it was a relief. From now on he did not have to issue orders: he had only to react. As the shuttle was drawn into the Narada’s enormous docking bay, he took time to marvel at the immense construction. While some of it was clearly far in advance of anything in the Federation, other sections looked unfinished, as if the ship’s builders had begun in one area only to cease work in the middle of construction and start an entirely new project somewhere else. There was also a noticeable lack of internal movement: something that hinted at a minimal crew that was supported by great deal of automation.
Knowing all this would do nothing to improve his chances of success, but Pike had the kind of inquisitive mind that could not simply accept his surroundings at face value. He wanted—he needed—to understand. As he had been told on more than one occasion, he would have made a good research scientist. He doubted that opinion would carry much weight with his opposite number.
Drawn into the nearly empty hangar bay, the shuttle was positioned above the deck and restrained until the airlock behind it had shut tight. Only then did his hosts set it down alongside another vessel, one of modest size and a design Pike did not recognize. For a brief moment before the Romulans’ tractor had locked onto him he had considered accelerating to maximum and crashing into the giant ship. It was an emotionally gratifying but impractical scenario. The shuttle was far too small and its drive far too weak to do any real damage to such a giant. His task was not to strike a futile blow against their assailant but to try and buy time, both for the drop team and for the rest of the crew back on the Enterprise.
Flanked by a pair of guards, the being called Ayel was waiting for him as the shuttle’s ramp deployed. Pike lingered in the open portal, peering down at the individual he had previously known only from terse transmissions. In person the Romulan spokesman was less physically impressive but just as unyielding. A hand beckoned impatiently, and Pike made his way down the ramp. At the bottom he did not bother to snap to attention.
“Captain Christopher Pike presents himself. Starfleet identification number—”
Driven to his knees by the blow that acknowledged his greeting, Pike wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth as he gazed angrily up at his attacker.
“So much for diplomacy.”
Kirk considered Sulu’s query for about a second before moving to pick up one of the dropped Romulan weapons. Since it had been designed and manufactured to accommodate humanoid, if not human, limbs and hands, it was simple enough to figure out what made it go bang.
“Look what I found.” Turning, he aimed the rifle at the junction of support cables and platform and pulled the trigger. A blast of energy tore into the structure. “The ‘off’ switch.”
A grinning Sulu recovered the other rifle and joined in. Together the two men methodically began to pick apart and blow to pieces every corner of the platform that looked as if it might have anything whatsoever to do with the actual operation of the drill. After the strain of hand-to-hand combat that had nearly resulted in his death, Kirk was not surprised to discover that he was enjoying himself. He only hoped that the destruction he and Sulu were wreaking was enough to put a stop to whatever the Romulans had been up to.
A few minutes of continual and conscientious fire from the heavy rifles was enough to start fires raging within the platform. Another couple of minutes and the mammoth device stopped vibrating altogether. A glance over the side revealed that the downthrusting column of ravening, penetrating energy had ceased.
On board the Enterprise telltales on the main communications console as well as throughout the bridge and relevant portions of the rest of the ship unexpectedly sprang to life. Uhura checked them out one at a time. With everything at her station having gone from dead to back online in an instant, it was easy enough to draw conclusions without having to check with the science officer.
“Interference has vanished—the energy disruption that was blocking communications is gone. Full communications capability reestablished.”
“Transporter controls active and reengaged,” Chekov announced from his position.
Intent on his own set of readouts, Spock was less enthused than the rest of the bridge complement by the sudden change in their fortunes. A good deal of his interest had been and still was directed elsewhere. When assigned to be chief science officer to the Enterprise, he had not anticipated having to make use of his studies in geology on its maiden voyage.
“Telemetry and remote instrument readings indicate the enemy has bored at least as far as Vulcan’s core. Ensign Chekov, direct all gravitational sensors to the affected area—I want to know what they’re doing.”
“Aye, Commander—Keptin. Sorry, Keptin.”
The Romulan science officer eyed his console in surprise, then ran a hasty check of backup instruments. Given what he was seeing on his readouts the latter was hardly necessary, but woe betide the officer who reported bad news to the Narada’s commander without making absolutely certain of his information. In this case there was no question what had happened. Too many readings had dropped to zero without rational explanation. The continuing silence of the guards posted to the disk itself who would ordinarily be available to confirm or deny any query from the ship only further confirmed the science officer’s suppositions.
“Captain, the drill’s been sabotaged! I cannot reactivate, nor can I raise the maintenance personnel. Multiple indicators point to sudden and extensive damage.” He indicated his console. “In order to effect necessary repairs the machinery will have to be brought back aboard.”
How? Nero wondered. The remaining Federation vessel had been completely disabled by the Narada’s superior weaponry. No disturbance or intrusion had been detected in the
vicinity of the drill. What artifice had the cursed enemy employed? Moving to stand behind the science officer, the commander of the Narada peered over his subordinate’s shoulder and examined the available information for himself. Depth at so and so, bore diameter at such and such, temperature at maximum depth achieved so many degrees. Satisfied, he stepped back.
“Whatever happened to the drill is of no consequence now. We’re deep enough. Launch the Red Matter!”
The science officer looked back at his captain. “We haven’t reached the preselected core depth.” He checked one especially crucial readout. “Temperature may not be high enough to trigger the necessary reaction.”
“I—don’t—care.” Nero’s eyes locked on the officer’s. It was not a gaze any sentient being wished to endure for long, not even members of his own crew. “Launch the delivery pod now!”
Infinitesimally tiny compared to the sweeping, angular mass of the great warship, a small, self-powered pod was ejected from its underside. Pausing a moment to allow its internal guidance system to orient its engine, it then plunged swiftly toward the brown world below. Much smaller than a zero-g torpedo or virtually any weapon of significance contained in the arsenals of known space-traversing species, it was potentially far more deadly. Within its internally generated magnetic containment field it held a diminutive red sphere. Within the sphere, itself a secondary containment field, floated a fragment of one of the most volatile substances known to galactic science.
Star Trek Page 13
