“Transporter room. Kyle here.”
“Stand by to beam three aboard. It may take some time.”
“Aye, sir.”
He hit the toggle again and sat back in his chair, feeling particularly helpless. There was nothing more he could do, except hope like hell that Spock was able to get to the Romulans’ deflector shields before the Romulans were able to get to him.
McCoy shut his eyes and fired.
“You can open them, Doctor,” Spock said next to him. “And, in the future, it might be better for your aim if you keep both eyes open.”
McCoy looked. The two helmeted guards in the small (compared to the Enterprise’s, anyway) security room lay on the floor, unconscious. “Don’t complain, Spock. It worked, didn’t it? Besides, I have no intention of ever using one of these again, once I get off this ship.”
“Why, Dr. McCoy.” Spock’s tone was as close as it ever got to human sarcasm. “I never suspected you were a pacifist.”
Now is scarcely the time for insults, McCoy was about to say, but Spock had already located their confiscated communicators and phasers. The doctor turned and gestured Mendez into the room. The admiral was being extremely cooperative, and that made McCoy even more distrustful of him. Mendez moved with interest over to where Spock stood.
“Doctor.” Spock handed McCoy his communicator and ignored Mendez’s longing glances at his own weapon. “And I shall keep the admiral’s phaser and communicator.” He snapped them onto his belt.
“Which way now?” McCoy asked, glancing anxiously over his shoulder.
“There should be a manual override in their engineering room,” Spock answered.
“Yes,” Mendez spoke up. “Engineering. But it’s on a lower deck. The safest way to get there would be to use the emergency shaft.”
Spock gazed at him sharply, then murmured, “Yes, of course.”
“That’s it?” McCoy blurted, amazed at the Vulcan’s acquiescence. “You’re going to trust him, just like that?”
Mendez’s bushy brows rushed together in a scowl. “Do you really think that I’m stupid enough to lead you someplace dangerous?”
“The admiral has a vested interest in us if he is to get safely off this ship,” Spock said to the doctor. “Up to that point, I am willing to trust him. And because of his position in the Fleet, he has the most recent information about the layout of Romulan vessels.”
McCoy felt his lips tightening disapprovingly. “Maybe. But I still don’t like it.”
“Nor do I, Doctor, but we have no choice at the moment.” Spock turned to Mendez. “You lead, Admiral.”
Mendez peered around the open door and pointed left with a stubby finger. “That way.”
They walked three abreast, with Spock slightly in front. Both he and the doctor held their weapons at chest level. Mendez, weaponless, walked between them.
“The shaft isn’t far,” Mendez assured them, but the wide-open corridor made McCoy feel exposed.
And with good reason: before they went one hundred meters, a uniformed Romulan centurion appeared in front of them. He stopped and gaped for a moment before reaching for the weapon strapped at his side. He never reached it; simultaneously, Spock and McCoy fired their weapons. Hit by a double blast, the centurion crumpled into a heap on the floor, his phaser still clutched in his outstretched hand.
Sickened by what he had just done, McCoy ran to the fallen guard’s side and dropped to his knees. My kingdom for a medikit He lifted the man’s eyelid gently. “I don’t like the looks of him. A double stun like that could be serious.”
Mendez squatted next to him. “Don’t be ridiculous! Let’s get out of here before someone else comes.”
McCoy felt his ire rising. “He could die.”
“Does it matter?” Mendez’s voice was heavy with hatred. “Don’t for a minute believe that he would be as concerned about you. Death and killing mean nothing to them. They have no regard for life, especially not human.”
McCoy’s voice rose. “Neither do you. But I’m not going to leave any man”
“He’s not a man, he’s a Romulan,” Mendez hissed, with more bitterness than McCoy had ever heard concentrated in one single voice.
“Nor am I a man.” Spock’s voice was velvet-soft, but his eyes had taken on a veiled look that spoke dangerously of Vulcan’s savage past. “So I do not share the admiral’s prejudice. But I am afraid, Doctor, that we have neither the time nor the means to tend to him.”
“At least let me check his pulse.” McCoy felt the man’s neck and tried to guess if the racing heartbeat beneath his fingertips was normal for a Romulan. Spock sighed and turned his back to the corridor to watch.
What happened next, happened quickly.
Behind Spock, another Romulan appeared in the corridor. She too wore the uniform of a centurion, and she shouted an alien phrase at them. McCoy cried a wordless warning to the Vulcan, but realized that there was no chance either he or Spock could fire in time. The doctor fumbled helplessly for the phaser he had put down on the floor.
The blast lit up the corridor for one brilliant instant. McCoy held his breath and closed his eyes. But when he opened them, Spock was still standing. The female guard was gone.
Next to the doctor, Mendez clutched the phaser he had taken from the unconscious guard’s hand. His eyes were wide.
McCoy was suddenly consumed by a sick, hot rage. “Feel better?” he spat sarcastically. His voice shook. “Here!” He grabbed Mendez’s hand and pointed the phaser at the male guard still unconscious on the floor. “Why don’t you kill him, too?”
Mendez stared blankly at him.
“Why don’t you just kill them all!” McCoy railed.
“Doctor,” Spock’s voice warned, somewhere in the background, but McCoy was too angry to see.
Stunned, Mendez looked down at the weapon in his hand as if he had no idea where it had come from. “It was set on kill,” he said, sounding surprised. “I didn’t know it was set on kill.”
“Does it matter?” McCoy flared, rising up on his knees and shoving his face into the admiral’s. “The woman is dead—although I’m sure you don’t consider her a woman. Something less than that, no doubt.”
Mendez shrank from him. “They killed my wife,” he whispered.
“So that gives you the right to kill her.” McCoy gestured at the now-empty space in the corridor. “Tit for tat, is that your philosophy? Or isn’t that enough? You want them all dead, right?”
“ Enough,” Spock said, taking the phaser from the admiral’s hand. Mendez did not resist. McCoy fell silent and got to his feet.
“The man will live,” he said quietly to Spock, as the first officer helped the admiral to his feet. Mendez seemed greatly shaken. He headed to the end of the corridor and, by pushing on a nearly invisible seam in the bulkhead, opened a hatch.
“The emergency shaft,” Mendez said tonelessly, and started to crawl in. Spock followed and grabbed him by the arm.
“I’ll go first, Admiral.” He gestured to McCoy to follow last and climbed in, heading down.
Mendez followed. McCoy got in last and shut the hatch, sealing them in darkness. Like a Federation vessel, the shaft consisted of a metal rung ladder that led either up or down to the different levels of the ship; unlike the Enterprise, however, the Bird of Prey’s shaft was completely enclosed by a metal tube. It was hot inside, and stuffy. McCoy felt as if he couldn’t get any air into his lungs. He began to find it difficult to catch his breath.
Just a touch of claustrophobia. Don’t let it get to you.
He stepped down blindly, the heel of his boot just grazing Mendez’s head. He murmured an apology and listened to it echo along with the sounds of their boots ringing against the metal ladder. Mendez did not answer.
If anyone else is in here, we’re all dead men.
They seemed to crawl down forever. Far away, muffled, an unfamiliar siren wailed. The search for them was beginning.
McCoy nearly put his foot on Men
dez’s bald pate again as their pace slowed abruptly. He found himself fighting panic.
A scraping sound Spock opening the hatch. They moved down again, and suddenly McCoy moved out into light. He put an arm up and squinted as he stepped out into the corridor. Mendez and Spock were already fifty meters ahead of him. McCoy ran after them as fast as his still-sore back and legs could carry him.
The corridor came to an abrupt end at a large doorway.
“This is it,” Mendez gasped. His broad face was mottled dark red. “Engineering.”
Spock nodded silently. He raised his phaser, set it on blanket range, and gave McCoy a significant glance: they were going to storm the engineering deck. McCoy leaned back against the bulkhead, his knees suddenly refusing to support him. Suicide. No choice. What’s the point in thinking about it? What are you gonna do, go back to your cell? He swallowed hard, set his own phaser on blanket stun, and nodded at the Vulcan. Ready.
It was, of course, far from the truth. The only thing McCoy felt ready for was slinking off into a very safe corner until it was all over.
Spock nodded back. Intuitively—or was it Spock’s telepathy—McCoy found himself counting:
One two THREE!
The two of them rushed toward the door, causing it to open. Two Romulan officers, both male, were seated at the main terminal and looked up in mild surprise as Spock and McCoy entered. Spock fired; the blanket range stunned them both, causing them to slump forward onto the terminal. McCoy looked around desperately until he saw a third Romulan, frowning curiously as she came around the antimatter reactor chamber (or what McCoy presumed was their version of it); teeth chattering, the doctor closed his eyes and fired his weapon. When he opened them again, the officer was on the floor. He was vaguely aware of Mendez cowering behind him.
“Is that it?” McCoy asked incredulously, surprised to find himself still alive. “Is it all over?”
“Not quite.” Spock was already at the terminal. He gently lifted one of the Romulans from his seat and leaned him against the bulkhead, then sat down in the vacant chair. The unconscious officer next to him apparently did not bother him in the least. “The deflector shields must be lowered. To do that, I must route them through this terminal, and once that occurs, the Romulans will know our exact location. I suggest you stand by to contact the Enterprise. The sooner we leave, the better.” Spock suddenly looked up and frowned. “Where is the admiral? It’s imperative we watch him carefully from now on.”
McCoy looked around. “My God, I didn’t think”
But Mendez had apparently tripped over one of the unconscious bodies on the floor and was dusting himself off. He struggled gracelessly to his feet. “I could help you if you’d give me a weapon, Commander. Believe me, I don’t want to stay here any more than you do.”
Spock’s voice was faraway; the Vulcan was distracted as he focused on the terminal before him. “Admiral, your disregard for my intelligence is most annoying. I have no intention of permitting you to arm yourself in order to make some sort of” He broke off and looked up at McCoy. “Make an attempt to contact the Enterprise, Doctor.”
McCoy felt an odd, tingling rush of exhilaration as he took his communicator from his belt and opened it. If this doesn’t work, this is it. “McCoy to Enterprise. Enterprise, come in please. McCoy”
“Bones!” Jim Kirk’s voice, taut with excitement “Is that you?”
McCoy grinned broadly at no one. “I don’t suppose you could get us out of here, Jim.”
“You’ve got it. Hang on.”
Footsteps, somewhere down the hall or was McCoy imagining it? We’re going to make it, he thought wildly. We’ll be gone by the time they get here. Amazingly, it was true. He felt the familiar light-headedness that marked the beginning of dematerialization. It was going to be all right.
The scene shifted, changed in front of his eyes. With near-tears relief, McCoy saw the Enterprise transporter room. Lieutenant Kyle stood behind the console, tanned and blond in his red tunic. Kyle flashed a white grin at them, and with his Aussie accent said: “Good day, sirs. Welcome back.” He pressed something on his console. “They’re here, Captain.” McCoy did not hear the reply.
McCoy smiled and took a step forward. There was an earsplitting rumble, and he was thrown off balance as the room lurched to one side. He fell, between Mendez and Spock, into a tangle of legs and arms.
The Romulans had noticed they were gone.
The doctor tried to push himself to his feet, but too late remembered the weapon knocked from his hand. Crablike, Mendez scrambled across the platform and retrieved the phaser before Spock and McCoy could find their weapons on the floor. “Sit back down, Doctor.” He waved the phaser in McCoy’s direction.
“Well, damn,” McCoy said, bitterly disappointed. He was weary to the bone of excitement, and had half a mind to take the phaser from Mendez’s hand and give him a good whacking with it to show him what he thought of him. But the instinct for self-preservation won out over his irritation, and he sat back down next to Spock. “I knew it was all going too easily.”
“One move and I’ll fire,” Mendez said. The entire transporter room seemed to vibrate, and then gravity pressed down on McCoy. They were moving, he guessed, trying to outrun the Romulans. He tried to keep his eyes focused on Mendez, in the hopes he would be distracted and lose his grip on the phaser, but Mendez somehow held on. When it was over, he was still holding the weapon on them.
“Call your captain,” Mendez said to Kyle, whose tan had just faded by several shades.
“They’re here, Captain,” Kyle said through the intercom.
“Good,” Jim Kirk answered. He closed the channel and leaned forward in his chair to give the order to Sulu.
The bridge convulsed, heaving him from the conn. He landed very unceremoniously on his backside. But there was no time to worry about the loss of dignity; besides, everyone else on the bridge was far too occupied to notice. Another blast like that without the shields up, and the top of the bridge would be sheared off.
Sulu had recovered from the shock of the blast and sat at the helm, facing the captain and calmly awaiting the order.
“Sulu,” Kirk gasped, struggling to his feet. “Deflector shields up. Return fire. And stand by for evasive maneuvers.”
“Aye, sir.” The helmsman’s Oriental features remained impassive as he took in all three orders without flinching. On the screen, the port side of the Bird of Prey flared in space as Sulu’s barrage struck home. “A hit, sir. Minor damage.”
Uhura had crawled back to her station after being knocked halfway across the bridge. Now she swiveled in her chair toward the conn, a model of composure except for her decidedly rumpled uniform. “Damage reports, Captain. One of the pods damaged, no estimated repair time yet. Engineering reports serious damage to one of the lower decks.”
“Is that Scott? Let me talk to him.”
“Aye, sir.” She turned back to her board. “On audio.”
“Scotty?” Kirk sat in his chair and leaned to one side, toward the intercom. “What’s the situation down there?”
The engineer’s tone was, as usual, gravely pessimistic. “They knew right where to hit us, Captain. A few meters more to the left, and they would have taken out the reactors completely. As it is, we’ve lost some power.”
“How much? I want to get her out of here as fast as we can.”
“Well I suppose I could give you warp eight.”
Kirk breathed a sigh of relief. To Scott, even a microscopic loss of power was a tragedy. “Give me warp nine and I’ll put your name in for a commendation.”
“You’re on.” He could practically hear Scott grin.
Kirk looked up at the helm. “Mr. Sulu. Implement evasive maneuver at warp nine now.”
He braced himself against the conn as the bridge trembled and bore hard to starboard
And then righted itself. Kirk glanced up at the main viewscreen. The Bird of Prey was gone, and in its place, stars. In a way, he couldn�
�t help feeling sorry for Khaefv, a shrewd young commander who deserved better than whatever fate awaited him in the Praetors’ Empire. The Romulan system had little tolerance for failure.
He stood up and waited for the adrenaline rush to fade. It was over really over. All that remained now of the Tanis affair was to see to it that security escorted Admiral Mendez to the VIP quarters and kept him confined there.
His intercom whistled again. “Kirk here.”
Kyle sounded puzzled. “Kyle again, Captain. I’m afraid—I’m afraid Admiral Mendez is making demands, sir. He says that if you don’t bring Adams to the transporter room now, he’s going to kill Dr. McCoy and Mr. Spock.”
“He’s coming,” Kyle said.
“I heard,” Mendez growled. “You’d all better hope he’s bringing Adams with him.”
“Your attempt to escape the consequences is illogical,” Spock said, as if he were engaging in a friendly debate of only mild personal interest to him. “Even if you were able to avoid incriminating yourself in Admiral Waverleigh’s death, Dr. McCoy and I will testify that you threatened us with physical harm here, and down on Tanis.”
“Don’t remind him of that now, Spock,” McCoy hissed, exasperated. Sometimes the Vulcan could be incredibly naive when it came to his own welfare.
“I don’t give a damn about logic.” Mendez raised the phaser. The beginnings of desperation shone in his eyes, making McCoy distinctly nervous.
“You should,” Spock answered pleasantly. “If you could have removed the evidence against you on Tanis—i.e., the R-virus—before the doctor and I arrived, it would have been to your benefit. You could have claimed that Tanis base was working on any number of different secret projects, but a germ so obviously engineered against Romulans is damning evidence.
“And, once we arrived, if you had located the virus and then killed us before anyone else on the Enterprise knew of your presence, it would still have been possible to avoid having your involvement with Tanis revealed. Unfortunately, once you decided to contact the Enterprise, secrecy was no longer possible. From that point on, you were bound to destroy an entire starship in order to protect yourself”
Bloodthirst Page 26
