STAR TREK: TOS - Errand of Vengeance, Book Two - Killing Blow

by Kevin Ryan

  Karel’s blood called out a warning, but he could not refuse Klak. The second officer had shown him respect and could have ordered him without asking. “I go where I am needed,” Karel said.

  “Good. It will mean additional duty, but you will get some experience on the bridge. An ambitious warrior could learn much,” Klak said.

  As Karel left the second officer’s quarters, his blood continued its warning. Everything Klak had said had made sense, yet he was convinced that there was something else at work here. He felt sure that Klak had not lied to him—at least not exactly—but the second officer had failed to mention his true intentions, whatever those were.

  Karel decided not to worry about it. For the moment, he would do his duty and stay on his guard.

  “What is it, Spock?” Kirk said, walking into the sensor control room with Dr. McCoy in tow.

  “I have tied the Enterprise’s sensors into the starbase sensor array. The combined system has allowed us extremely long range,” Spock said.

  “You’ve found something?” Kirk asked.

  “Yes,” the Vulcan said. “By carefully calibrating sensors I was able to search for specific irregularities in warp reactors. These irregularities form a distinctive [66] power signature, allowing sensors to scan for specific warp-field technology.”

  “Blast it, Spock, what have you found, in English please?” McCoy said.

  “Orions, Doctor. By scanning for Orion technology, I was able to plot dozens of warp systems using Orion equipment in this sector,” Spock said.

  “Interesting, Spock,” Kirk said, “but we can’t chase down every Orion ship in the sector. There are too many Orion vessels operating legitimately, or at least operating without a connection to the alert.”

  “Yes, but there was one signature that stood out. It is being generated by an extremely large warp reactor,” Spock said.

  “How large?” Kirk asked.

  “Several orders of magnitude larger than the warp reactor that powers this ship,” Spock said.

  “What possible use ... ?” McCoy said.

  “Only one, Doctor. Deep-core mining. Rapid, deep-core mining,” Spock said. “This would be of concern by itself. Deep-core mining operations are extremely destructive to planetary environments. They are illegal on Federation worlds that support life. However, there is something that makes this situation even more troubling.”

  Spock hit one of his controls and a star map appeared on one of the screens above his station. The target system was outlined in red.

  Kirk saw the problem immediately. “Spock, that is very close to Klingon space.”

  “Practically in the Klingons’ backyard,” McCoy added.

  “Precisely, Doctor,” the Vulcan said.

  [67] “Spock, what is deep-core mining used for?” Kirk asked.

  “Very expensive and rapid mining operations like this one, particularly illegal operations, which must be set up and concluded quickly to avoid detection are only practical for extraction of extremely valuable materials,” the Vulcan said.

  “Dilithium crystals,” Kirk said. “They are mining for dilithium crystals.”

  “Undoubtedly,” Spock said. “If the Klingon Empire is indeed planning a major offensive to launch in the next several months, they will need a large supply of starship-grade crystals.”

  “How long has the mine been active?” Kirk said.

  “By reviewing sensor records, I deduce that it has not been active for long enough to yield many crystals so far,” Spock said.

  “Then it is not too late to stop them before the Klingons get their hands on a large supply of starship-grade crystals,” Kirk said.

  “Most likely, Captain, but there is another reason the mine has to be shut down immediately,” Spock said. “The planet has an indigenous, humanoid population. It is a pretechnology society about which we know very little. The people were discovered by a remote probe. Estimates are of a planetary population of approximately one hundred thousand beings.”

  “Who won’t be there for much longer if the core mining runs its course,” Kirk said. “Mr. Spock, we need to get under way as soon as possible. Please start recalling the crew from liberty on the starbase.” The captain regretted doing it. Opportunities for recreation off the ship [68] might be few and far between given the current alert. Even more unsettling was the fact that most of the crew did nor. yet know about the danger the Federation was facing. But none of that could be helped now. The crew would do its duty. For now, there was a planet full of sentient beings threatened by an illegal operation.

  “What is the status of our resupply?” Kirk asked.

  “Essential supplies and equipment have already been brought on board. We can accelerate the schedule immediately and then even more as more crew return to the ship,” the Vulcan replied.

  “How long before we can get under way?” Kirk asked.

  “Four hours, thirty-seven minutes,” the science officer said, without checking the computer terminal in front of him, or even blinking for that matter.

  “Thank you, Mr. Spock. I had better warn Scotty that we’ll be leaving,” Kirk said, heading for the door.

  It seems she forms attachments very quickly, the Klingon thought, watching Leslie Parrish talking with Ensign Sobel.

  “Flash, if I am not mistaken, you were the one who ended it with her,” Benitez said from his position next to him.

  The Klingon suddenly realized that he had spoken the thought out loud. He took a moment to curse the ale and the Romulans who created it. Then he scowled at his roommate.

  He sensed someone appear next to him. Turning, he saw green skin. Orion, his mind screamed. Immediately, he was alert and reaching for his phaser.

  By the time his hand was at his side, he realized two [69] things simultaneously. First, his phaser was not there, because sidearms were not allowed on the starbase for off-duty personnel. Second, the Orion next to him was not a threat. The Orion next to him was female—very female.

  She smiled at him and he noticed that she was wearing next to nothing and wearing it very well.

  She smelled good, he realized, wonderful even. He found that he could not take his eyes from her. She simply ordered a drink and smiled at him.

  She smiled at him. Even her smile was intoxicating. As intoxicating as Romulan ale, but much more pleasant.

  He realized his blood was burning.

  The pheromones, he realized. It was her pheromones.

  By force of will, he turned away from her, looking to his right. He saw Benitez and beyond him Leslie Parrish, who for the first time all evening was looking directly at him.

  She scowled and turned away.

  By now, Ensign Sobel was staring at the Orion female, as was Jawer, and as was Benitez.

  The Klingon noted that she had not attracted as much attention among the other male patrons nearby. Presumably, the different alien species were less susceptible to her scent ... and other charms. Kell felt his eyes drawn back to her and sensed the other males in his squad hovering over his shoulder. They were leaning into each other and pressing against him to be closer to her.

  Kell felt a rough shove against his shoulder.

  He looked up. And up.

  Towering above him was a very large Nausicaan. He thought the alien might be sneering at him. With [70] Nausicaans it was hard to tell. Their faces seemed to be frozen in perpetual sneers.

  For the moment, Kell ignored the Nausicaan and followed the female with his eyes. She turned once, smiled at him again, and continued walking toward the window on the far wall.

  “Earther,” someone bellowed in his ear. That shocked him out of his reverie. He turned to see the Nausicaan sneering at him. It was the second time that day that someone had called him an Earther.

  The first one was the Klingon trader. Looking past the Nausicaan, Kell saw a group of Nausicaans—eight of them. He also saw the Klingon trader who was looking at him and working up a sneer of his own.

  Suddenly, Kell w
as sure the Klingon trader had set whatever was about to happen up with the Nausicaans. He was equally certain that whatever was about to happen was going to be very bad.

  “You bothering my female, Earther?” the Nausicaan said, prodding Kell with a finger.

  He said “Earther” with a particularly nasty sneer. The Klingon knew that the term was a great insult among Nausicaans, as it was among Klingons.

  “Did you hear me, Earther?” the Nausicaan said. Kell did not bother to respond. He knew from experience that Nausicaans initiated a verbal exchange before they began an attack. They used the escalating war of words to work up their own courage and then struck.

  Kell, however, had no patience for such childish games. He believed the Klingon axiom The best attack is a direct attack. Slowly, he rose from his bar stool. He quickly [71] calculated his best chance for victory. If he incapacitated their leader quickly, the other Nausicaans might decide not to get involved.

  On the other hand, they would still see odds of eight Nausicaans against six humans and would probably try to finish them. Still, eight Nausicaans were better than nine.

  He knew the humans would fight beside him. And they would fight well. He hoped that would be enough.

  When he was on his feet, Kell noted that the Nausicaan was a full head taller than he was. The alien would be a challenge that the Klingon would enjoy.

  “Are you deaf as well as stupid, Earther?” the Nausicaan said, turning to his friends and laughing.

  Rearing back, Kell prepared to make his move. He would have to come out on the other side of the Nausicaan. With his back to the bar, Kell would not have the room to maneuver. In close quarters the Nausicaan would use his size and strength to great advantage.

  The Klingon knew he could not fight his adversaries’ fight, not if he wanted to walk away from this bar in one piece.

  Before he could execute his move, a slim figure interposed itself between Kell and the Nausicaan. Checking his own movement just in time, Kell watched as Benitez put up his hand and said, “Hey, none of us wants trouble.” The Nausicaan laughed. “Maybe I want trouble,” he said.

  That was it, the pretense was gone. The battle would follow very quickly now.

  It came even quicker than he anticipated. The Nausicaan reared back with his left hand, feinted with it, and [72] struck quickly with his right fist—which, Kell noted, was the size of a medium-sized targ.

  Benitez moved with astonishing speed. Rather than try to block the blow, he leaned into the Nausicaan and ducked. He came out beside and slightly behind the alien. In nearly one fluid motion, Benitez brought his foot in front of his opponent and pushed him forward into the bar.

  Carried forward by the push and the momentum of his own blow, the Nausicaan crashed into the bar. It was a variation on the move Kell had used on the Klingon trader to great effect.

  This time, however, the Nausicaan was not nearly incapacitated by a blow to the head. Instead, he hit the bar with his stomach and turned around, looking truly angry.

  “Like I said,” Benitez said, “we do not want any trouble, but we are pretty good at dealing with it.”

  By his tone, Kell could see that Benitez seemed to think that the confrontation might be over. There was something noble in his naïveté, but it was a mistake few beings ever had a chance to make twice with an angry Nausicaan.

  The Nausicaan lifted one hand slowly in a gesture of appeasement. Benitez gave a smile that told Kell the human once again didn’t realize the danger he was in.

  Kell did, and he saw the blade immediately.

  The hand that the Nausicaan had kept low was moving and holding a knife. It was smaller than a d’k tahg, about the size of a Klingon assassin’s knife.

  Reacting quickly and without thinking, Kell raised his right hand and brought it down, hard, on the Nausicaan’s knife hand.

  It was only when he made contact with the alien’s wrist that the Klingon realized he was still holding his [73] heavy glass mug. The glass hit the Nausicaan’s wrist with a satisfying snap and Kell was confident that the wrist was broken.

  Kell immediately looked for and found the knife on the ground. He kicked it under the bar and out of reach. The Nausicaan was leaning over, cradling his wrist, but the Klingon did not want to underestimate the alien.

  The Klingon had to suppress his instinct to simply kill the Nausicaan now. It was the wisest course, given what he knew of Nausicaans, but it was not what a human Starfleet officer would do. And for now, he still had to play that role.

  Grabbing him by the shoulder, the Klingon shoved the Nausicaan leader aside and to the ground.

  This all took seconds, but it was long enough for the rest of the bar to take notice. The immediate area had gone quiet and some patrons had begun moving their tables toward the window.

  The result was that there was a semicircle of open space around the eight Nausicaans and the six Starfleet officers. Looking over his left shoulder, Kell saw that all six members of his squad were lined up next to him. With pride, he noted that they had remembered some of their Mok’bara training and had stepped away from the bar two steps to give themselves maneuvering room.

  The Nausicaan leader got up slowly, still cradling his injured wrist. He made his way back to his comrades.

  Kell considered the other Nausicaans, who were standing in a confused jumble, unlike the neat line of readiness that Kell’s security squad formed.

  Their leader had instigated the fight and had been clearly and soundly beaten. If they were an honorable [74] people, they would simply accept the defeat and leave the bar.

  But the Nausicaans were clearly not an honorable people.

  Their leader joined their ranks, glared at the Starfleet people, and shouted something in the Nausicaan language.

  The aliens talked among themselves. They did not act immediately. Untrained and undisciplined, they needed to work up their courage. They would be sloppy fighters and would not fight as one, as he had no doubt the security squad would do.

  Yet the Nausicaans were bigger and stronger. There were also more of them, and any or all of the Nausicaans might have blades.

  As Starfleet officers, the humans would wait until the attackers struck before they fought back. It was a human principle and their strict adherence to it was admirable.

  But he had seen too many humans die nobly as they followed their principles. They could not afford to wait. “Watch for blades!” he shouted to his friends as he launched himself into the center of the Nausicaans, aiming a combination of blows at the largest ones.

  As humans, the Starfleet officers would not strike the Nausicaans first, but Kell knew they would quickly come to his aid. His ears and peripheral vision told him this was already happening.

  For the moment, he could not concern himself with their welfare. He was focused on the Nausicaan in front of him. The alien he had hit first was on his knees, trying to shake off his disorientation. The Klingon did not wait for that to happen. He brought up his own knee into the Nausicaan’s face, catching the alien in the forehead.

  [75] The Nausicaan fell backward with a dull thud.

  By then, the two Nausicaans on either side of the Klingon had begun to act. The one on Kell’s right grabbed his arm, while the other pushed him to keep him off balance.

  He saw a flash of metal, and before he realized what the Nausicaan on his left was doing, a female voice he recognized yelled out, “Knife!”

  An instant later, a body hurled itself at the knife-wielding Nausicaan. Before the Klingon raised his forearm to deflect the knife, a blur in Starfleet red crashed into the Nausicaan’s arm, forcing the arm into an outward arc.

  This was unfortunate for the Nausicaan who was standing next to him. He took the point of the knife straight in his thigh. He let out a howl and grabbed the Nausicaan who stabbed him. The aliens grappled each other and went down to the ground in a mass of shouts and limbs.

  Kell took in the confusing tangle of Starfleet red and Nausicaans as they
tussled in the ten meters or so around him. Then suddenly the Nausicaan whose wrist Kell had broken reappeared suddenly. He was standing behind Leslie Parrish. He grabbed a chair with his good hand and began raising it over her head.

  With her back turned, Parrish didn’t see the danger. In fact, she was looking at him, asking him something.

  Once again, Kell acted without thinking. He charged, throwing his weight into the alien. As soon as he made contact with the Nausicaan’s midsection, he grabbed the broken wrist and twisted it as hard as he could.

  He felt the weight of the chair momentarily on his back. At first he thought he had been hit, but then he realized that the Nausicaan had simply dropped the chair on him.

  [76] From his position on the ground, the Nausicaan reached out with his good hand, hitting Kell in the side with a glancing blow.

  Kell decided he already had had too much trouble from this one. The Klingon grabbed the Nausicaan’s good arm with both hands and brought it down as hard as he could on his knee. The snap of bone was surprisingly loud given the noise in the bar.

  For the first time, Kell was able to take a second to survey his surroundings. Two Nausicaans were still fighting over the knife, while one was bleeding from a wound to his thigh.

  Then he quickly scanned for red tunics and saw that all of his squad was accounted for and in good condition. In fact, they seemed to be thriving.

  Kell saw Benitez let loose with a very strong combination of strikes that forced a larger Nausicaan against the bar. The Nausicaan was fighting back, but Benitez was able to deflect the blows easily with some standard Starfleet blocks.

  Interesting, Kell thought, Benitez had combined the Mok’bara strikes Kell had taught the squad with human defensive techniques. As a Klingon style of fighting, Mok’bara relied heavily on powerful strikes, with less attention paid to defensive maneuvers. But humans valued life highly, even their own, and took great pains to preserve it. That came out even in their fighting.

  Less than two meters away, Ensign Sobel had somehow gotten a Nausicaan onto the bar and was pushing him over the other side.