Seekers: Second Nature

by David Mack

  He was still weighing his meager options when he heard, from somewhere close by, the low beep of an Imperial communicator receiving an incoming signal.

  You fool! You’re surrounded by everything you need! He rushed across the killing field and waded through the greenery, moving from one corpse to the next, searching for the one whose communicator was beeping. Along the way he grabbed a disruptor from one corkscrew-twisted body and jammed it into the empty holster strapped to his thigh, and from another slain warrior he snatched up a d’k tahg and tucked it under his belt.

  His ears led him to the source of the insistent beeping. He yanked the communicator from the dead lieutenant’s belt and flipped it open. “This is Doctor Tormog.”

  A woman answered. “This is the Voh’tahk. Where is Lieutenant Kurz?”

  “I can tell you where his legs are. The rest of him? I’m not so sure.”

  “What is your status?”

  “Ready to beam up.”

  “Has the target been tagged?”

  Tormog was unsure how to answer. He had seen the horrors Nimur could wreak with a thought. Unleashing such a monster aboard an Imperial starship would be a disaster. But if he confirmed that Nimur had been shot with a transponder, he had no doubt the ambitious but shortsighted officers commanding the ships in orbit would insist on beaming up the homicidal alien. He decided that a lie was in everyone’s best interest. “Negative.”

  “Then why are we receiving a transponder signal? Who was tagged, Doctor?”

  “No one. Ignore it. Just beam me up.”

  Muffled murmurs over the comm channel were followed by a deep, gruff voice that Tormog knew all too well. “This is Captain Kang. Why are you lying to us, Doctor?”

  “It’s a long story, Captain. Beam me up and I’ll explain.”

  “I’ll hear your explanation now, Doctor. And unless I find it extremely persuasive, you’re going to spend the rest of your miserable life on that planet. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Abundantly, sir.”

  “Good. Start talking.”

  “The short version is this: If you beam up any of these novpu’, we’re all going to die.”

  19

  Terrell watched the Klingon cruiser grow larger on the Sagittarius’s main viewscreen. He put on a brave face and wiped the sweat from his palms on the legs of his jumpsuit. “Keep hailing them, Chief. Hail them until someone answers us.” Or until they blast us into dust.

  Razka kept quiet as he re-sent Terrell’s message to the Klingon vessel’s commander. While the Saurian noncom waited for a reply, Terrell swiveled his chair so he could look aft toward Sorak. “Any luck pinpointing their landing party’s beam-down coordinates?”

  The white-haired Vulcan shook his head. “Not yet, sir. All I can say for certain is they beamed down near the natives’ village on the big island.”

  From the sensor console, Taryl raised a note of alarm. “The cruiser has raised shields and is locking disruptors and charging its forward torpedo launchers. The bird-of-prey is coming up fast on our aft starboard quarter. Its shields are also up, and its disruptors are coming online.”

  That was bad news that Terrell wasn’t ready to deal with, not yet. He looked away from Taryl, toward Razka. “Any response?”

  “No, sir. But I’m picking up encrypted signals between the cruiser and the surface.”

  “Send out a wide-band jamming signal. I want that conversation cut short.”

  “Aye, sir.” Razka set to work on the scrambling the Klingons’ comms.

  Sorak left the aft console and leaned close to Terrell to offer discreet counsel. “Sir, a wide-band jamming frequency will also interfere with our ability to contact our landing party.”

  “I’m aware of that, Commander. But right now I have to play the ball as it lies.”

  The Vulcan cocked one eyebrow. If Terrell’s use of a uniquely human idiom had confused him, he kept it to himself. “Understood, sir.”

  Taryl’s large, dark eyes were fixed upon the sensor display. “The bird-of-prey has locked disruptors and is charging its torpedo tube.”

  Terrell was in no mood to humor the Klingons’ usual posturing. “Helm, increase orbital range to sixteen thousand kilometers and roll us thirty degrees to port. Taryl, lock phasers on the bird-of-prey. Target her engines and command deck.” He thumbed open a channel to the engineering deck. “Master Chief, ready one torpedo.”

  “We’re on it, Skipper. Tor! Cahow! Lock ’n’ load!”

  Reassured he would have at least one photon torpedo at his disposal, Terrell looked back at Taryl. “Lock that onto the cruiser. Aim for effect.”

  “Aye, sir.” The Orion entered targeting solutions into her console.

  It would take only seconds for the Klingons’ sensors to confirm the Sagittarius was just as committed to its combat preparations as their ships were. Terrell hoped that would mean that whoever was in charge of their mission would see fit to answer his thrice-repeated hail.

  Razka’s bulbous reptilian eyes widened in response to a change in the status of the communications panel. “Captain, I have the Klingon commander on Channel One.”

  “Put him on-screen, Chief.”

  Terrell stood and took a step forward because he hoped it would make him appear larger and more intimidating to his Klingon counterpart. Then the main viewscreen switched to show a swarthy, goateed visage with thick, dramatically upswept black eyebrows. He had seen this man’s face before, in briefings from Starfleet Command. This was no ordinary Klingon starship commander. This man was nefarious, as respected as he was feared.

  He glowered at Terrell. “I am Captain Kang, commanding the battle cruiser Voh’tahk.”

  There was no point echoing Kang’s contemptuous tone, so Terrell focused on keeping his voice low and steady. “I am Captain Clark Terrell, commanding the Starfleet vessel Sagittarius.”

  “Why are you interfering in our mission of exploration?”

  “We weren’t aware you were engaged in exploration of this system.”

  “A lie. Your team on the surface abducted one of our scientists. Why?”

  For the sake of diplomacy, Terrell chose to err on the side of euphemism. “My people didn’t abduct anyone, Captain. If they had any contact with your scientist, it was to render aid.”

  “By drugging him? Interrogating him? Binding his hands and gagging him? Is this how Starfleet defines ‘rendering aid’? If so, I pity those foolish enough to seek your help.”

  Terrell had no desire to defend the losing side of a debate. “Let’s put that aside for the moment, Captain. My crew and I just want to help you avoid making a terrible mistake.”

  “How generous of you. And what is this grave error we’re about to commit?”

  “You beamed down a landing party a few minutes ago. You need to beam them back.”

  “Too late. They’re dead.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Don’t be. They died to complete their mission. No more could I ask of true warriors.”

  “What was their mission, Captain?”

  Kang’s eyes narrowed. “That is no concern of yours.”

  “I’m afraid it is. My team has been studying the natives of this planet, and it is absolutely imperative that you not try to beam any of them up to your ships.”

  “Thank you for your concern, Captain. But my crew and I don’t need your help, or your advice. Do not interfere with our mission—any obstruction will be considered a hostile act, and will be dealt with accordingly. This is the only warning you will receive. Voh’tahk out.”

  The transmission ended, and the main viewscreen switched back to an image of the Klingon cruiser looming large between the Sagittarius and the planet.

  Terrell returned to his command chair. “Nizsk, stand by for evasive maneuvers. Chief, keep their comms scrambled as
long as you can. Taryl, if the Klingons fire on us, you’re to return fire at will.” He looked to Sorak, hoping for good news. “What’s the Endeavour’s ETA?”

  “Fifteen minutes.”

  Taryl tensed and clutched the edge of her sensor console. “Incoming!”

  A disruptor blast rocked the scout ship, and Terrell gripped the arms of his chair. Behind him, Sorak stumbled half a step before recovering his balance.

  On the viewscreen, the two Klingon ships diverged, beginning a maneuver that Terrell knew was intended to diminish his ship’s offensive strength by forcing it to split its attacks between two foes spread far apart, rather than allowing him to cluster phaser blasts and torpedo attacks for maximum effect. It was a judicious tactical decision on Kang’s part, albeit an entirely unnecessary one; there was little chance the Archer-class scout ship could hope to inflict any significant damage against a cruiser as imposing as the Voh’tahk. But it served to remind Terrell that even when all the odds were in Kang’s favor, he remained a shrewd and disciplined soldier.

  And now we have to survive fifteen minutes toe-to-toe with him.

  He was planning his next counterpunch as he leaned forward. “Helm, evasive maneuvers, full impulse. Everyone else, hang on to something heavy.”

  • • •

  The Starfleet scout vessel on the Homghor’s viewscreen taunted Captain Durak. It was fast and agile enough to evade Captain Kang’s battle cruiser, and its human commander was wise enough to use hit-and-run tactics that kept him at the edge of the Homghor’s weapons range.

  That would not be enough to save him, not if Durak had any say in the matter. “Helm, set attack pattern pach. Cut them off on their next pass.” The helm officer, Zuras, engaged the new course as Durak snapped at his weapons officer, “Volcha! Show those petaQpu’ on the Voh’tahk how to shoot! I want us to be the ones who bring that Starfleet ship down!”

  Durak had never made a secret of his ambitions. He had climbed through the ranks in a very short time, making best use of his highborn status, his House’s wealth, and his family’s lofty connections—and all the perquisites those advantages offered to a young officer. After less than a decade in the Defense Forces he had taken command of the Homghor, but he considered the bird-of-prey little more than a stepping stone to a grander destiny that awaited him. Destroying the Starfleet scout ship would be Durak’s next stride forward on his road to glory.

  Phaser blasts from the enemy scout ship rocked the Homghor and momentarily scrambled its main view­screen and duty station monitors. Over the fading rumble of the attack, Durak’s first officer, Commander Magron, called out, “Three hits, shields holding.”

  The Sagittarius reappeared on the viewscreen as Zuras adjusted the Homghor’s course. Volcha manually adjusted the ship’s targeting systems. “Disruptors locked!”

  “Fire!” Crimson pulses lashed out through the void and caromed off the Starfleet vessel’s shields. Half a second later, the scout ship made an abrupt course change and accelerated out of view. Durak clenched his fist, as if that would prevent this opportunity from slipping away.

  Magron moved to the sensor console and called up a tactical report. “The Starfleet ship is making another run at the Voh’tahk. Both ships are firing—minor shield damage to both. And the Starfleet ship is breaking off, making another dash for the planet’s debris ring.”

  “Clever,” Durak muttered. He realized Magron was looking at him, awaiting an explanation. Durak pointed at the planet’s rings. “The Starfleet commander wants to separate us from the Voh’tahk by luring us onto opposite sides of the rings. If we split up, only one of us can engage him at a time. If we stay together, he can lurk on the far side of the rings for cover between attacks, and we’ll be forced to defend ourselves while he sets the pace.”

  The first officer nodded. “Cunning, for a human.” He looked at Durak. “Orders?”

  “Give him no rest. Helm, all ahead flank, direct pursuit course. Put us on their aft quarter and keep us there. Weapons, use harassing fire to limit their maneuvers until we’re at point-blank range, then destroy their warp nacelles. Magron, angle all our shields forward. Let them bloody our noses if they like, that won’t put a stop to the chase. By Fek’lhr’s beard, we will have them!”

  His crew snapped into action, energized by the promise of battle—and then Kazron, the communications officer, answered an incoming hail. He straightened his back as he looked up and turned from his station to face Durak. “Captain. The Voh’tahk has broken through the Starfleet interference. Captain Kang demands to speak with you.”

  Ambition could trump many things—caution and common sense being the two most obvious—but one thing it couldn’t overcome was the privilege of rank. Durak erased all semblance of emotion from his face and straightened his own posture. “On-screen.”

  Kang’s face filled the main viewscreen. “Captain, my crew is sending you the frequency for a transponder they tagged onto our research target. Break off your pursuit of the scout ship, locate that target, and beam it up as soon as possible. And if Doctor Tormog asks you to beam him up, tell him I said to leave him right where he is.”

  “What about the scout ship? It will try to block our transporter beam.”

  “Ignore them. They pose no threat. They just want to impede our mission.”

  “Understood, Captain.”

  “Report in as soon as you have the subject aboard. Kang out.”

  The image on the main screen switched back to a view of the Sagittarius racing through the planet’s rings, heading back toward the Voh’tahk. It galled Durak to let them go, but he had his orders. “Helm, break off pursuit, return to low orbit. Volcha, scan for the transponder and relay its coordinates to the transporter room. Magron, tell that oaf Lessig to power up the transporter. Let’s get this done so we can get back in the hunt.”

  There was nothing for Durak to do while his crew worked but stew in his resentment of Kang, who no doubt would steal for himself the glory of capturing the Starfleet vessel.

  Kazron looked up again from the communications panel. “Captain, we’re being hailed from the surface by Doctor Tormog.”

  Durak knew better than to unleash his bitter rage on Kang, but no one would hold him to account for exorcising his fury on an infamous worm like Tormog. “Put him on speakers.” He paused until Kazron nodded, signaling that the channel was open. “This is Durak.”

  “Captain Durak, I monitored your communication with Captain Kang. You must not carry out his order to beam up the tagged subject.”

  Incredulous stares were exchanged among the Homghor’s bridge crew. Durak had no idea why Tormog wanted to dig his own grave, but he was happy to let him. “Why not, Doctor?”

  “The Tomol transform into something monstrous. They can kill with a thought! The one we were following, the one Kang’s people just tagged—she tore apart the rest of the recon team with nothing but her mind. Energy weapons don’t seem to affect her, and she—”

  “Sounds like you’ve been hitting the bloodwine again, eh, Doctor?”

  Tormog turned defensive. “Mock me if you want, but do not beam that thing up.”

  “Explain something to me, Doctor. You say she killed the rest of the recon team with just her mind. If that’s true, how did you survive?” When his question was met with silence, Durak was certain he had intuited the answer. “Might it be that you ran like a frightened petaQ?” Throaty laughter filled the Homghor’s bridge. Over the comm there was only wounded silence.

  Durak motioned for his men to subdue themselves. When order was restored, he put an end to his conversation with the coward. “Thank you for your sage counsel, Doctor Tormog, but my warriors and I are more than capable of subduing a single primitive.”

  “If you beam her up, you’re all going to die.”

  “Find a warm place to hide, Doctor. My men and I have work to do. Homghor out.” Ka
zron closed the channel, and Durak resigned himself to finishing this mission as Kang’s glorified courier. “Volcha, locate that transponder. It’s time we tamed the doctor’s runaway pet.”

  • • •

  Thorny vines slashed at Theriault’s bloodied and dust-masked face as she ran. To her left, Dastin raced ahead of her. She and the Trill had inched ahead of each other a couple of times during their mad run toward the beach. Hesh and Tan Bao trailed them by a few paces. Their running strides generated an alarmingly loud white noise of rustled greenery and snapping twigs—not that they could hear much of it over the incessant clamor of their pursuers, who were clearing a path through the jungle by means of brute-force telekinesis.

  A two-meter-wide tree trunk on Theriault’s right cracked from roots to boughs, splitting the air with a jarring bang that knocked her and the others off-balance. Hesh tripped and landed hard on his face. Before he had time to call out in pain, Tan Bao pulled him back into motion and gestured for Theriault and Dastin to forge ahead. “Go! We’re okay!”

  There was no debate—everyone kept running.

  Daylight flashed between the trees ahead of them—they were near the beach, no more than twenty meters, close enough to hear the roar of breaking waves on the sand.

  Dastin raised his phaser and fired a wide-angle, full-power beam that disintegrated a huge swath of jungle ahead of him. He beckoned with a broad overhead swing of his arm. “This way!”

  Theriault and the others detoured left into the trail Dastin had just cut for them. Liberated from the need to weave between trees or power through thorny veils of low-hanging vines, they broke into a flat run. Propelled by adrenaline and a keen desire to get off the island alive, they raced across the long stretch of burnt and smoking ground dotted with low blackened stumps.

  The Trill cleared away the last few meters of jungle growth ahead of them with another phaser blast, and then his weapon emitted a pathetic-sounding tone that meant its power cell was drained. He hurdled over the last row of charred stumps onto the beach, then looked back as he barreled toward the rover’s hiding place. “C’mon!”