by Kevin Ryan
McCoy was just expressing the frustration they were all feeling, that even Kirk was feeling acutely right then. “I don’t have any answers for you, Bones. What I have now are orders.”
“When this is over, remind me that there’s a moon I want to sell to President Wescott.”
“Noted, Doctor,” Kirk said. He looked around the room again. No one had anything else. And he could see that they were all anxious to talk to their own people and make the necessary preparations for departure.
“Dismissed,” he said. The room emptied quickly.
Fuller found that his heart was beating loudly in his chest as he approached the dining room. He was nervous for reasons he could not quite explain, yet he wanted to do this—he wanted to hear what these people had to say. As promised, Parrish had arranged it, and what she and the others were offering him was a gift: A chance to know his son better, a chance to better understand what kind of man Sam had become.
A chance to know how Sam had lived. And a chance to know how he had…
Died.
That was it. They would tell him the things he wanted to know, the kind of things that no official report would even think to mention. He had thought he was ready to hear it all, to know it all. But the fact was that not knowing allowed Fuller to keep the truth of Sam’s death locked away in the same place he had locked away too many others. Andrews, Caruso…almost too many to count. Too many names on Fuller’s own personal wall.
Confronting the details of his son’s death, the reality of it, might cost him some of the control he needed for his final mission for his son. Well, he could not say no to this now, not without arousing suspicion. And with Parrish shipping off the Enterprise as soon as it could reach a transport, there was no putting it off.
Fuller reached the dining room and the doors opened for him. Parrish was there with six others. Seven people who had served with Sam on the mission in System 1324 and at the siege of Starbase 42.
Fuller took a deep breath and stepped inside, giving the waiting people a smile. Seven faces returned the smile, and they all stood up, nearly as one. One of them, a young man—an impossibly young man—stepped forward in embarrassed excitement. The man held out his hand and Fuller shook it.
“Sir, my name is Adam Jawer—” Then something caught in his throat. He waited a moment and continued. “I served with Sam on his last two missions.” Then the young man’s voice started breaking. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. I’m very proud to meet you.”
Jawer’s face was a mix of earnestness, emotion, and excitement that Fuller found hard to look at because it reminded him of Sam as a young officer. In the end, he smiled at the ensign and said, “I’m glad to meet you.” Jawer seemed both pleased and embarrassed. Fuller put a hand on his shoulder and turned to the others. “I’m glad to see all of you.”
Parrish introduced him to the others one at a time, then she said, “Why don’t we sit?” The table was set and food was already out. Parrish put him at the head, and the others took their places.
Parrish spoke first. “Your son was my first commanding officer. I served in his squad with Ensign Jawer. Our first mission was to System 1324—”
She was interrupted by the comm. Fuller recognized Kirk’s voice immediately. “All hands, this is the captain. The Enterprise has received new orders. We will be leaving starbase for System 7348 in eight hours. Begin departure procedures immediately. Kirk out.”
Then a voice that Fuller recognized as the communications officer said, “All security teams report to the ship’s theater. All security teams report to the ship’s theater.”
Fuller and everyone else at the table stood up simultaneously. Parrish was first to the door. Fuller found that he felt a mixture of disappointment and relief. Then, as he stepped away, both of those feelings disappeared and he concentrated on the new situation. If they were heading to the planet early, that meant something had happened. The Klingons were up to something.
His mind went over a number of possible scenarios as he headed for the theater. Fuller vowed that he would be ready for all of them.
Chapter Eighteen
U.S.S. ENDEAVOUR
DONATU SYSTEM
2242
FULLER HAD CAUGHT the Klingon by surprise and was pleased to see him stumble backward awkwardly. The other Klingons began to shout, but the leader recovered quickly and raised a hand to silence them. Fuller saw that the two at the nearest cargo room door had their hands on their disruptors, stayed only by the leader’s gesture.
That was it, he realized. He and Andrews had been right. He knew from his Starfleet training that Klingons had a strong martial tradition and many rules and cultural norms regarding fighting. He had seen earlier that the leader had not wanted his men to use disruptors against unarmed people. Fuller was glad to see that he had been right—his and Andrews’s plan depended on it. Of course, Andrews would have been better able than he was to execute this part of the plan, but that couldn’t be helped now. Fuller only hoped he lived long enough to give the others in the room a chance to do something.
“I challenge you,” Fuller said to the Klingon leader.
There it was, the look of amused contempt. The Klingon smiled, a decidedly unpleasant sight. Fuller felt an unnatural urge to wipe that murderous grin off the alien’s face. “You, Earther?” the Klingon said.
“Yes, this ‘Earther’ challenges you, you bloodless coward,” Fuller spat back at him.
The amusement on the Klingon’s face disappeared. Now there was just contempt, and fury. Fuller was pleased to see it. Obviously those words that the Klingons used so casually to describe humans had a powerful effect when hurled back at them. Without delay, the Klingon unhooked the meter-long curved blade from his back. He gave it a swing and looked up at Fuller with that unpleasant smile. “You will die slowly, Earther.”
“Not by your hand, you pathetic bastard,” Fuller replied. He had been half expecting the Klingon to hurl himself at him at that, but the Klingon’s fury had gone cold, showing only in his eyes now. This Klingon wasn’t going to lose his head, and his calm indicated that he had just become more dangerous.
“Give the human a blade,” the Klingon said, steel in his voice.
“No, I don’t want one of your cowardly blades,” Fuller called out, taunting the Klingon some more. He looked around quickly and said, “I need a high-torque maintenance wrench.”
A few seconds later someone called out, “Got it, Fuller.” There was movement behind him as the tool was passed from one officer to another. Finally, a woman handed it to Fuller, and he nodded. The wrench was heavy and nearly a meter in length. It had the heft he needed and he would be able to swing it like a simple club. Perfect for his purpose.
Of course, it didn’t look like much of a match for the deadly looking blade in the Klingon’s hand, but Fuller found he wasn’t worried about that now. It felt good to be doing something besides watching his friends and shipmates die. He had a plan now.
And he had some fury of his own.
Automatically, a circle cleared around Fuller and the Klingon leader, giving them five meters in every direction. Fuller noted with satisfaction that the other five guards had come in closer to the center of the room to watch the fight. Fuller gave his wrench a test swing. It had some heft, and he guessed that it was about as heavy as the Klingon weapon.
“I’m afraid that I cannot spare you as much time as I would like, Earther. I have orders to dispose of the cowardly lot of you.”
Fuller did not rise to the bait. He saw no point in taunting the Klingon now. Instead, he lunged forward and swung the wrench directly at the Klingon’s head. Surprised by the quickness of the attack, the Klingon reflexively jerked back and raised his blade defensively. The wrench hit the blade with a resounding clang, making it vibrate roughly in Fuller’s hand.
The Klingon recovered quickly and swung the blade at him. Now it was Fuller’s turn to dodge. He pulled his head back and felt the deadly weapon pass less than an inch fr
om his throat. Watching carefully, he saw the momentum of the blade carry it through its arc, leaving him a small opening to attack the Klingon’s unprotected left side.
Fuller didn’t take it. Not yet.
His plan required the Klingon to swing at him from the other direction. That would be tricky to manage. Of course, the plan also required that Fuller survive another attack, which would be even trickier. He sensed that the Klingon leader was an expert with that weapon. Until now, the Klingon had been testing him, even toying with him, but there wouldn’t be much more of that.
“Neither you nor your pathetic tool are a match for me. You will die, Earther,” the Klingon said. Of course, he was probably right. However, the Klingon didn’t know that Fuller didn’t need to survive this fight for his plan to work.
Fuller and the Klingon circled each other, holding their weapons out. As he walked, Fuller stepped a bit closer to the Klingon, putting himself just inside the leader’s strike zone. As he had hoped, the Klingon swung the weapon high, from right to left.
This time, Fuller ducked and dove into the attack. He felt the blade graze the top of his head as he rolled. Timing his roll carefully, he dropped the wrench and reached up with his right hand toward the Klingon’s hip. Then, using instinct alone, he rolled out of the way as he sensed the Klingon’s blade coming down at him as he lay on the floor.
Sure enough, he heard the blade strike the deck, missing him by inches. Then Fuller turned and looked up at the Klingon leader, who was staring at him in disbelief. With his left hand, Fuller grabbed hold of the Klingon blade and held it to the deck. With his right hand, he raised the Klingon disruptor that he had taken from the Klingon’s side.
Shock registered on the Klingon’s face as he stared down the shaft of his own energy weapon. To him, what had happened was inconceivable, made even more so because he had not allowed his guards to use disruptors against Fuller or the others. Fuller had no such compunctions.
Without hesitating, he fired the weapon into the Klingon’s chest.
The blow tossed the large alien backward, and Fuller was immediately on his feet. Like their leader, this turn of events took the other Klingons by surprise. Three of them made the mistake of reaching for their blades first. Endeavour crew immediately overwhelmed those guards.
Two guards had the sense to reach for their disruptors. Fuller was able to hit one with his own disruptor before the Klingon fired a shot, but there were too many of his crewmates in the way for Fuller to get a clear shot at the other one. So he simply rushed through the crowd, his right hand still holding the Klingon leader’s blade.
The Klingon was firing blindly in all directions. In the chaos Fuller noticed that at least two of his crewmates had gone down. Then Fuller was nearly on top of the Klingon. He grabbed the blade by one of its handles and swung it at the guard’s legs. The Klingon went down immediately, firing one shot up as he fell. The blast missed Fuller, but passed so close that he felt its heat on his face as it traveled upward.
Fuller fired at the Klingon, who immediately went still. One of the ensigns nearby leaned down and picked up the fallen Klingon’s weapon. There was the sound of movement all around him as Endeavour crew retrieved the rest of the weapons. Others grabbed tools or anything else they could find.
“What now?” someone said to him. Fuller turned to see that it was a security officer from another squad who was holding a Klingon disruptor in his hand.
“Move the Klingons in there,” he said, pointing to the airlock. The officer gave him a surprised look. “We’re just going to lock them in.” For a moment he considered blasting them out into space. It would have satisfied some of that fury that burned inside him, but it also would make him like his enemy, and that was the last thing that Fuller wanted right now.
Without asking any questions, the surviving crew followed his instructions. In less than a minute, the six unconscious Klingons were piled inside the airlock. Then Fuller assigned two of the crewmen who were now armed with disruptors to stand with him on one side of the large cargo room doors. He had everyone else stand behind them, fitting in as best they could.
Fuller hit the button on the control panel that opened the large double doors, which slid open. In less than two seconds, four Klingons who had been standing in the corridor rushed inside. All of them were cut down by disruptor fire before they even saw Fuller and the others.
As people grabbed the fallen Klingons’ weapons, Fuller and other armed crewmen poked their heads into the corridor. It was clear.
“And now?” one of the people behind him said.
“Now we let them know they’ve been in a fight,” Fuller said.
Fuller broke the survivors into four groups. One would head for the bridge, one for the phaser room, and one to the impulse deck. The final group would put the four additional guards into the airlock and then scour the ship for remaining Klingons. There was a chance that the captain and crew were still barricaded on the bridge. And if there was any chance of getting power to the weapons, Fuller and the others would have to secure the impulse room.
Fuller’s group headed for the phaser room. Almost immediately, they came upon dead Starfleet officers. The Klingons had left the humans’ weapons on the deck, and the Endeavour crew was quickly able to arm itself with laser pistols. Fuller was uncomfortable carrying the Klingon weapon. He wished there had been enough lasers for him to trade his disruptor for one, but there hadn’t been. He’d had to satisfy himself by dropping the Klingon blade on the ground.
They raced through the corridor and met little resistance on this level. The small group of Klingons had been surprised to see them and had not even fired off a shot. Fuller was himself surprised that there were not more Klingons on the deck, but then he realized why: the Klingons had rounded up most or possibly all of the surviving crew and had put them in the cargo room. Obviously, they didn’t feel the need to keep many of their soldiers on board to maintain control of what was left of the ship.
They were arrogant and overconfident. And they didn’t think much of humans. On the other hand, the battle so far had gone overwhelmingly in their favor. They had had plenty of reason to be confident.
The turbolifts were all out, so they took ladders and stairs to reach their respective decks. The phaser control room was near the front of the ship, and Fuller’s instincts told him to proceed with caution. He led his group forward slowly, listening carefully for any sign of the enemy. None came, and soon they were looking at the charred doors of the phaser control room.
“Earthers!” a shout came from behind them. Fuller froze in place, cursing himself for letting the Klingons sneak up on his group. “Do not turn around, just put down your weapons,” the Klingon voice said.
Fuller decided that he would just turn and fire. Maybe he would get lucky and hit one of the Klingons before he fell. But before he could move, he heard the sound of laser fire. Immediately, he turned and fired, slamming himself back against a corridor wall. There was a group of perhaps a dozen Klingons caught out in the open while someone behind them kept up the laser fire.
Fuller and his people kept up their own fire, and the Klingons fell quickly. He signaled for his people to hold their fire and called out, “Identify yourselves.”
A shaky voice called out, “Lieutenant Fitz.”
Fuller raced around the curve of the corridor and saw a young female communications officer sitting on the ground, cradling someone in her arms. No, not someone, the captain.
Captain Shannon had a disruptor burn that covered the right side of his face. His single remaining eye was open and sightless. Fuller saw immediately that the captain was dead. “Oh my God,” someone said next to him.
Part of his own mind screamed out that it was impossible. Shannon couldn’t be dead. He was the captain. And he had just saved them from the Klingons. A louder part of his mind said, He died to give us this chance.
Fuller would see that that sacrifice—and Andrews’s and Caruso’s and Woods’s and al
l the others—was not wasted. “We can’t help him. I need everyone to come with me to the phaser room.” He reached down and helped Fitz put the captain gently on the deck. Then he helped her up.
“We may be able to do some good in the phaser room,” he said to her.
Fitz looked up at him. She was suddenly alert, snapping out of the daze that had been caused by watching the captain die. There was something else in her eyes: Fury. Without another word, she was on her feet and leading the way to the phaser room.
Fuller left four people guarding the door—a pair on each side. Then he, Fitz, and two more entered the phaser room. There were four dead people on the floor. All but one of them, he noted, had been killed by a Klingon blade. As a result there was some damage to the equipment, but the room was surprisingly intact considering that it had been the scene of a battle.
He pulled a dead lieutenant off the main console and tried to power it up. Nothing.
“Communications are out,” Fitz reported. Then she tossed Fuller a communicator. “But these should work.”
“Fuller to bridge,” he said into the device. Nothing.
“Fuller to impulse room,” he tried.
“Impulse room, here. Lieutenant Silverman,” a voice responded.
“Are you secure?”
“Yes, the Klingons were cutting through the door, but then they just stopped.”
“We sent some help. I guess they got there,” Fuller said. “Can you give us some power to get into this fight?”
“We have power in one of the reactors, but I can’t get the phaser control room on my board. We’ll need your help to get power to your control circuits. Then we may be able to get phaser banks online.”
Fuller looked up and waved over a man in a technician’s jumpsuit. “I need you to get power to the main control circuits.”
The man looked at him and said, “I’m a junior technician.”
“So?”
“I’m only rated on the food service equipment,” he said, embarrassment in his voice.
