by Kevin Ryan
“Admiral, I have an idea,” Kirk said.
“Proceed,” Justman said. “We don’t have much time.”
As if to agree with him, the drumming of disrupter fire on the control center’s shield intensified.
“Lieutenant,” he said to the officer at the sciences station. “How are the Klingons maintaining position?”
“Tractor beam, sir,” she said.
“Can you pinpoint where?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, calling up an image of the battle cruiser and the station. Then she pointed to a point on the outer ring nearest the Klingon ship.
“Is that anywhere near a shield emitter?” Kirk asked.
“Yes, sir,” the science officer replied.
“Ensign,” Kirk said to the base security officer who had switched off the travel pod’s acceleration governor.
“Yes, sir,” he said.
“What is your name?” Kirk asked.
“Marsilii, sir,” the young man replied. He was young and was no doubt scared; yet he had performed well under extreme pressure in the travel pod.
“Ensign Marsilii,” Kirk said, “you’ve had some technical training?”
“Yes, sir,” the ensign said. “My cross-training was in engineering. I plan on requesting an engineering post for my next assignment.”
[133] Kirk nodded. “Could you vent some plasma out of one of the station’s shield emitters? I need a strong electromagnetic pulse.”
The ensign didn’t answer immediately. He first inspected the weapons station, then the engineering panel.
“I ... think so, sir. I would have to run some new circuits, but I think I could do it,” Marsilii said.
“Then get started,” Kirk said.
He turned to the admiral, who said, “You’re thinking of hitting them with an EM pulse from the inside, using then” own tractor beam as a carrier wave.”
Kirk nodded. “You do read the reports,” he said.
Justman nodded. “We’re already working on an upgrade on shielding of internal circuits so that no one else can use the trick the Orions used on the Enterprise.”
“Control room shield down to twenty-seven percent,” the lieutenant at the weapons console announced.
“Let’s go,” Justman said.
Justman led the way to the control center’s large blast doors. He hit a switch and the double doors opened with surprising speed.
The admiral stepped through into the perhaps twenty-meter space between the inner blast doors and the outer doors, which were the main entrance into the control room, and the path the Klingons would use.
Kirk and the base security officer took positions behind station support pylons on the left, while Admiral Justman and West took up positions on the right.
The space between the two doors functioned as an airlock in emergency situations. Like the bridge of a starship, the control center was designed to act as a [134] lifeboat. The heavy blast doors were designed to protect both the station and the control center in that event.
The station’s fusion reactors powered the shield that provided extra protection for the outer door. It was not nearly as powerful as the exterior shields, but it was holding reasonably well against Klingon hand weapons.
When the shield and then the outer blast door fell, Kirk and the other three officers would defend that outer corridor first. Kirk had no illusions about how long the four of them would hold off the Klingons.
When they had to fall back, they would be falling back into the control room itself. After that, there would be nowhere to go.
Kirk knew that if he had to, if they couldn’t defend this room, he would destroy the crystals.
The pounding on the shield outside intensified again. It wouldn’t be long.
Kirk flipped open his communicator. “Mr. Spock? Where are you?”
“We’re in the station’s central hub, but are encountering resistance from the Klingons,” Spock said.
Spock’s tone of voice was even, though Kirk could hear the sounds of movement—running, actually—in the background. Given what they were facing here, Kirk knew that the resistance the team was facing was serious.
They would not have the station’s weapons and shields any time soon—certainly not soon enough to do anything about the Klingons currently at the control room’s outer door.
“Captain,” Justman called out. Kirk looked at the [135] admiral’s position and saw that he was speaking into his communicator.
“The shield is failing,” Justman said.
“Understood,” Kirk said, and turned his attention back to the blast door.
From the sound of the pounding on the shield, it was amazing that it was holding at all. Kirk barely had time to complete that thought when there was a loud crackle. The sound was unmistakable: the shield had failed.
Immediately, Kirk could hear the sound of disrupter fire striking the blast doors. After a few moments, the doors began to glow in several places.
It will not be long now, he realized.
The Klingons caught Kyle and the group in the last intersection of corridors before they reached the cargo bay. Chief Brantley was leading. As he turned the corner, a Klingon weapon’s blast exploded against the bulkhead behind him, barely missing his head and neck.
Brantley ducked for cover as Lieutenant Kyle, Briggs, and Mr. Scott returned fire, pinning the Klingons behind the corner of a bulkhead down a narrow side corridor.
As the phaser came alive in his hand, a sick feeling rose in Kyle’s throat. He forced it back down.
Brantley pointed to the door across the intersection that led into the cargo bay, which held the transporter inside. As he kept up the fire, the chief said, “If we get across that open area and inside, the cargo-bay door will hold the Klingons back long enough for us to beam aboard the Enterprise.”
Scott nodded, but Kyle knew that even if they did get [136] across and into the cargo bay, there was no guarantee that the transporter would work.
“One at a time,” Brantley said. “We make a run for it. Ensign, you and I will cover Mr. Scott and Kyle.”
Ensign Briggs nodded.
“We’ll get that door open,” Mr. Scott said, “and Kyle will come back around the corner to cover you.”
Brantley nodded, and Kyle stopped firing as Mr. Scott did. He saw Scott’s body tense for the run. The chief engineer seemed ready, though Kyle’s own legs felt like lead and his body felt frozen in place.
“It’s all right, laddie, just move when I do,” Scott said.
Scott’s words broke the spell, and Kyle felt like his body was back under his own control. Then Scott stepped to the corner and stood above the crouched Ensign Briggs, who was firing down the hallway at the Klingons trying to work their way toward them.
Incredibly Ensign Briggs’s shot tore into the closest Klingon, throwing him backward and—thankfully—out of sight.
The Mr. Scott was moving, and Lieutenant Kyle, head down, followed the chief engineer across the open area, not even drawing a shot as the other Klingons remained behind cover.
“They’re going to try to come in around us,” Chief Brantley said, pointing down a third hallway.
Kyle saw Scotty nod and knew that they had to move fast to get into that cargo bay. At least there they had a fighting chance. Out here they were in the open and pinned down.
Lieutenant Kyle hit the control panel on the [137] cargo-bay door and it slid open. Mr. Scott headed across the large room at a run. Kyle knew the chief engineer was headed for the transporter but did not even spare a look in that direction.
He immediately turned back and started firing on the Klingons’ position. Remarkably, there was no fire from them. Kyle had a bad feeling but stayed focused on his task.
Then Chief Brantley appeared, heading toward him at a run. An instant later, Ensign Briggs was on the chief’s heels.
Kyle kept up his fire, though the Klingons did not appear or return fire.
Then Brantley was racing throug
h the door. Briggs was about to do the same when Kyle saw a flash out of the corner of his eye.
Before his mind registered that the Klingons had somehow made their way around to a new position, Kyle saw a second bolt tear into the running Briggs from behind.
The force of the blast lifted the ensign of the ground and threw him against the wall less than a meter from Kyle’s position.
He hit with remarkable force and for a moment Kyle was looking straight into the dying man’s eyes. Then Briggs was sliding to the floor. Unable to look away, Kyle looked at Briggs as he fell. The damage done by the disruptor was terrible and there was a large portion of his right side that was just not there.
Then a disruptor bolt struck the wall where Briggs’s head was just a moment before, and Kyle realized that he had stopped firing.
[138] He felt a hand grab him from behind, and then he was flying backward. As he slid onto the deck, he saw Chief Brantley hitting the control panel from the inside, and the cargo-bay door slammed down.
As Kyle was getting to his feet, Brantley said, “Can you lock the system so it can’t be opened from the outside?”
Kyle shook his head. He wanted to tell Brantley about Ensign Briggs, but the chief was shouting something again.
“The door! Do it now!” the chief shouted, shocking Kyle out of his confusion.
Then the lieutenant was racing for the door. He pulled open the control panel. Like most of the equipment, this system was old. It took him a moment to find the right circuit; then he grabbed it and pulled the wire clean out of the panel. The system shorted immediately.
“That will hold them,” Kyle said, even as he heard disrupter fire slam against the door.
Kyle caught Brantley’s eyes and said, “Sorry, Chief ... I—”
“Don’t worry about it. You did fine,” Brantley said.
Then Kyle was following Brantley to the rear of the cargo bay, where Mr. Scott was at work at the transporter control board. Kyle glanced at the transporter itself. It was an older cargo model and had a single, roughly two-meter-square transporter pad, rather than the individual personal pads.
“Does it work?” Brantley asked Scott.
The chief engineer nodded. “It has power.”
Kyle took a quick look at the console. “It’s not rated for human transport,” Kyle said.
[139] “What does that mean?” Brantley asked.
“It does not have the resolution to guarantee one hundred percent accuracy in the rematerialization,” Scott said.
The barrage against the bay door increased, and Kyle could see it was glowing in a number of places.
“So it’s not completely safe,” Brantley said, glancing at the door. “Reasonably safe is good enough for me.”
Scott leaned under the transporter operator’s console and pulled open the access door.
“Kyle,” Scott said. “I’m going to boost the power to the molecular imaging scanners. Cross-circuit to B.”
Kyle performed the operation.
And then Scott was standing next to him.
“Good enough?” Brantley said.
“Yes,” Scott said. “The Enterprise’s pattern buffer should compensate for any degradation in the signal.”
Should? Kyle thought.
“Good enough for me,” Brantley said.
“I’ll need just a minute to set the transporter to operate on a time delay. Get on the pad,” Scott said.
Kyle and Brantley stepped onto the pad. The security section chief seemed incredibly calm. Of course, he did not know what Kyle knew. He did not know how many things could go wrong in the transport—signal decay, quantum shifts, signal-compatibility problems between this outdated system and the Enterprise’s newer transporter.
Then Kyle saw the cargo-bay door begin to buckle in a number of places. Holes were showing through. A moment later disruptor bolts tore through them and into the bay, striking cargo containers across the room.
Whatever their chances were on the transporter, they [140] were better than if they stayed in this room even a few more minutes.
“Powering up,” Scott said, racing to take his own position on the transporter pad. But the moment Scott reached the pad, there was a bang and smoke billowed from under the panel.
Mr. Scott raced back to the console and said, “Blew the automatic transport controls.” Already, his hands were racing across the console. Kyle saw Brantley’s eyes dart between the chief engineer and the rapidly failing door.
Kyle saw in an instant that Mr. Scott would not have time to repair the damage. They had less than a minute, perhaps only seconds.
But they could not fail. Too much was riding on them. Mr. Scott had to get the Enterprise’s engines back online. And the others had fought so hard. Ensign Briggs had died to give them this chance.
Kyle knew he had not contributed much to the fight. He was no warrior, he realized, but there was something he could do—a contribution he could make.
“I can run the board, sir,” Kyle said, stepping down.
Scott looked up quickly. He obviously knew they were out of time and he understood what Kyle wanted to do.
“Lad ...”Scott said.
“We’re out of time,” Kyle said. “They need you on the Enterprise.”
Kyle took a step toward the console, but a hand pulled him back.
“This is my job,” Chief Brantley said. “Get on the pads, both of you.”
“Chief—” Scott said.
[141] “We don’t have time. Let me do my job and then you can do yours,” Brantley said.
“Aye,” Scott said as Brantley stood behind the operator’s console.
Mr. Scott grabbed Kyle and pulled him onto the transporter pad.
The lieutenant could see that Brantley looked completely calm as he watched them take their places.
“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I have a surprise planned for the Klingons. Just get the Enterprise into the fight.”
“Aye,” Scott said. “Good luck, Chief.”
“You too, sir,” Brantley said as he pushed forward on the transporter controls.
A moment later Kyle felt the transporter beam take him. In the instant before he was dematerialized he saw the cargo door collapse completely behind the chief.
Chapter Thirteen
FINALLY, KAREL THOUGHT with satisfaction as the cargo-bay door finally gave way. The Earthers were good at running and hiding. No doubt from generations of practice in cowardice.
Well, Klingons had generations of practice in open combat.
Karel was first through the door, his blaster blazing. Among the seventeen Klingons behind him was Gash. Karel was determined to not concern himself with what the large Klingon might do, though with so much disruptor fire in the air it would be easy for Gash to take his own revenge on Karel.
Nevertheless, Karel decided to remain focused on his vengeance and hope that Gash would have the sense to destroy the Empire’s enemies first.
He caught a brief flash of energy from the corner of [143] the room and saw the last moments of the transporter’s dematerialization process.
He spat a string of Klingon curses at the cowardly Earthers, who had made running away an art form.
He scanned the empty room and called for the others to halt. “The Earthers have escaped,” he said.
“No,” said a voice behind him. Karel turned to see Gash searching the room with his one good eye. In that moment Karel knew that he had nothing to worry about from the Klingon, at least until this battle was over. At the moment, Karel could see that Gash was deep in the heat of battle, his blood burning with a desire to crush the Earthers.
“Someone is here,” Gash said. “I can smell his Earther stink.”
Karel nodded. “Split up. Half on that side,” he said, pointing to the left side of the large room. “And half with me,” he said, as he headed to the right.
As he walked, he aimed and fired at the transporter console, watching in satisfaction as it went up in a
flash of light and energy. No more Earthers will be escaping from there, he thought.
When the attack came, it came with surprising swiftness. The large cargo container shot forward, more than a meter off the ground.
“Down,” Karel said as he dove to the side. Ignoring the sound of slower warriors getting smashed by the heavy containers, Karel rolled to his feet and fired his disrupter at where he guessed the Earthers had launched the container.
There was no reply and Karel was certain that the [144] Earthers had hidden themselves somewhere else among the stacks and rows of containers.
“Caution, warriors. They are using antigrav units,” Karel said.
He turned to see that two warriors were on the ground. One of them was breathing, but he would not be rejoining the fight, Karel realized.
Two more reasons to crush the Earthers, he thought.
“Show yourselves, Earthers,” he called out in their weakling English.
Not surprisingly there was no reply.
He ordered one of his warriors to guard the door in case the Earthers tried to escape that way. There would be no escape for them, not now. This cargo bay would be the Earthers’ killing box.
Then he ordered the other warriors to circle the cargo bay so they could trap the Earthers in the middle.
As Karel and his Klingons reached the right side of the bay, he saw movement on the left side. An even larger cargo container, perhaps three meters square, was racing toward three of the warriors there. The Klingons had barely enough time to see the danger before they were crushed between the heavy container and the bulkhead.
He did not have to look to know that the Klingons were dead.
“Arrrggg!” Karel shouted in frustration.
These Earthers would pay for the blood of those warriors. Then phaser fire tore into one of his warriors, forcing the others to dive for cover.
Karel stood his ground and saw movement and a flash [145] of Starfleet uniform. The Earthers were near the far left-hand corner of the cargo bay, he realized.
“There.” Karel pointed. “Get the Earthers!” he shouted.
All the remaining Klingons converged on that point, blasters tearing into bulkheads and cargo containers there.
