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

by Kevin Ryan

  Kell and Benitez were the first to reach the armory, with the rest of the squad following in short order. Chief Fuller was there, as well as Lieutenant Commander Giotto and Chief Brantley.

  “Mr. Anderson,” Chief Brantley said, holding out a phaser rifle. Karel recognized the weapon. Captain Kirk had used it to save his life in the caves.

  Taking the weapon, Kell noted that it was well balanced and had a satisfying weight to it. He wondered if the next time it was fired it would be at Captain Kirk. Next Brantley gave him a phaser 2 sidearm, and then proceeded to give out the same weapons to the rest of the squad.

  “The captain wants you to take no chances,” Security Chief Giotto said. “As you know, these rifles are significantly more powerful than your phaser-two weapons. They have also been specially modified to be more effective against Orion shields.”

  As the squad fell into line, Giotto looked to Fuller and said, “Give the word, Chief.”

  It was an unnecessary gesture. Chief Fuller was not [104] going on the mission and Chief Brantley was in command of the squad for its duration. But they were still Fuller’s squad.

  The chief looked them over and said simply, “Come back, all of you.” Kell had been expecting a speech—something he had learned to expect from humans. “Now move out,” Fuller said, his voice tight.

  As the Klingon turned with the rest of the squad to follow Chief Brantley, he took one last look at Sam Fuller. It would no doubt be the last time he saw the human. He clearly saw pride in the chief’s eyes as he took his own last look at his squad. The Klingon wondered what his expression would be when he learned of Kell’s treachery against the captain.

  The squad was silent all the way to the hangar bay—even Benitez was quiet.

  Inside the hangar bay, the captain was waiting for them by the shuttlecraft. Its designation was Galileo, named, he knew, after an early human scientist.

  When Kell first came on board, he had thought that the humans’ pretense toward exploration and scientific study was one of their great deceptions. Now he knew this was not true. Humans lived by their principles, and died by them.

  And while they valued peace and study, Kell had seen that the rest of the galaxy did not always cooperate. The Orions had recently forced the humans out of their complacency, and the Orions had paid the price for their presumptions.

  The Empire was about to do the same. He wondered what price it would pay.

  Even now, he could not believe that the Empire had [105] had anything to do with the recent Orion incident. He did not believe that Kirk would lie, but the human had provided no concrete proof, which meant Starfleet was relying on conjecture and intelligence. As a recent veteran of the Klingon intelligence division, Kell knew how unreliable that kind of information could be.

  “We need to get under way immediately,” Kirk said, gesturing for the squad to get inside.

  As Kell stepped into the shuttle and took his seat, he realized he had been on a similar shuttle recently. A nearly identical craft had saved his life and likely the lives of all the humans on 1324’s second planet. The boxy and inelegant shape belied the craft’s true strength, he recognized.

  Captain Kirk took the pilot’s seat up front. Chief Brantley sat next to him, and the shuttle door closed. Through the forward window, Kell saw the clamshell doors at the end of the hangar bay begin to open.

  At the same time, Kell could hear air being evacuated from the large bay. For the moment, the only thing between the shuttle and open space was an invisible forcefield. Finally, the sound of the air moving disappeared and the bay doors were open. There was a brief flash as the shield disappeared, and then the shuttle lifted off the deck.

  The ride was much smoother than the brief trip he had taken in the heavily damaged shuttle on the planet. Kirk piloted with the easy confidence of someone who had had long practice.

  The small craft shot forward and then they were in open space.

  After a few moments, Kell saw the captain engage the shuttle’s main engines and he knew that he was now racing toward his fate at nearly the speed of light.

  [106] Kell gripped the rifle on his lap firmly. He vowed that whatever his fate might be, he would meet it directly and without fear.

  Even as the shock of what he was seeing registered in his mind, Justman found himself doing his job. Using tactical sensors, he plotted the trajectory of each of the Starfleet officers as they shot through space, completely unprotected from the harsh vacuum.

  He was feeding the data to the science station as the captain called out, “Get me transporters online now. Mr. Justman, fire phasers at the Klingon vessel. Pick your targets.”

  Justman knew that torpedoes would be more effective, but they posed too great a risk to the Starfleet officers in space, who still had a chance. Contrary to what many civilians believed, humans could survive in the vacuum of space for brief periods. He also knew, however, that the survival time was measured in seconds.

  “We have a transporter lock on six,” Science Officer Okuda said.

  “Helm, evasive maneuvers. Justman, drop shields now,” the captain barked.

  Even as he did so, Lieutenant Commander Justman knew the danger of dropping the shields with hostile ships in range, but they had no choice. He hit the switch without hesitation.

  As he did, he felt the pull of high-speed impulse maneuvers, which put more of a strain on artificial gravity and inertial compensators than anything else the ship did. Grabbing his console for support, Justman tracked the Klingon cruisers on his display.

  [107] “Klingons powering weapons,” he called out.

  Then Okuda’s voice called out, “We’ve got them. Getting lock on more survivors.”

  “Raise shields,” Captain Rodriguez said.

  Justman did and the shields came on an instant before the Klingon ship fired. He saw the shield indicator light come on, and waited for the inevitable impact of Klingon disrupter fire.

  It did not come.

  A glance at his screen told him why. Two full-powered disrupter blasts tore into the fourteen Starfleet officers floating in space. He didn’t have to check his sensors to see that there was nothing there to scan. His eyes told him that the fourteen people had been instantly disintegrated.

  Then he realized that the blasts were just a decoy. The other Klingon cruiser powered another weapon.

  “Incoming torpedoes!” Justman shouted.

  “Evasive,” the captain called, and Justman felt the ship lurch violently to the side. There were four torpedoes. Though they were guided weapons that could track a ship with deadly accuracy, they also moved very fast and the magnetic containment system that separated the matter from the antimatter would operate for only a short period of time.

  Thus, if a missile did not hit almost immediately, it would detonate harmlessly in space. Justman tracked the missiles carefully as they tried to follow the Yorkshire as it ran through its evasive maneuvers.

  The first torpedo was a clean miss. So was the second. The third detonated close enough to rock the Yorkshire. Then the fourth made a direct hit on the aft shield.

  Justman checked his readout. The shield was holding. [108] Shields would not take many more direct hits, but for now they were nearly at full power.

  “Return fire, Mr. Justman, concentrate on the lead ship and hit them hard,” Captain Rodriguez said.

  Justman watched the helm’s maneuvers carefully and tried to anticipate the Yorkshire’s next move to give the torpedoes the best chance of finding their targets.

  One torpedo was away. Then another.

  He waited for the reload time. It was just seconds, but it seemed like an eternity. Then two more torpedoes were away.

  One of them hit their mark almost directly on the lead Klingon cruiser. The other torpedo struck the ship a glancing blow.

  “Status of the survivors. Did we get them?” the captain called out.

  “Sickbay reports that they are treating four of the Endeavor’s crew,” the communic
ations officer said. “Two didn’t make it.”

  And fourteen more were disintegrated in space, Justman thought, knowing that the rest of the bridge crew was having the same thought.

  “Shield status,” the captain said.

  “Shields at over ninety percent,” Justman said.

  “No damage reported,” the communications officer said.

  “Mr. Okuda, what about the Klingons?” the captain asked.

  “Their shields have lost some power and I’m reading fluctuations that suggest some damage on board the lead cruiser.”

  Justman checked his readouts. “Their weapons [109] systems are at full power but they are maintaining position.”

  “Ready weapons, I’ll need phasers and torpedoes on my command,” Rodriguez said.

  “Captain, we’re being hailed,” the communications officer said.

  “Audio only,” the captain said.

  “Earther commander,” said the voice of the Klingon captain. “You simply drag out the inevitable. Watch the Endeavor and see your own future.”

  The main viewer trained on the Endeavor. Justman could once again see the airlock doors open and the frightened faces of the people inside.

  “Stop this!” Rodriguez shouted. “I demand—”

  “They’ve broken the connection,” the communications officer said.

  The bridge fell silent as all eyes went to the screen. The crew waited for the inevitable. Justman knew they would not have to wait long.

  Chapter Ten

  IT OCCURRED TO KELL that he could end Captain Kirk’s life and his own mission right there in the shuttle. He was holding a high-powered phaser and was sitting less than three meters behind the human. The Starfleet officers around him trusted him and would never be able to stop him in time.

  Yet the Klingon knew the would not do it. The first time he was alone with the captain was in the briefing room on his first day aboard the Enterprise. He did not do it then because a warrior defeated a foe face-to-face. Much had changed in the short weeks since then, and Kell knew now that his entire mission for the Empire compromised his honor. “Yet there were some compromises he would not make. When the time came to kill Captain Kirk, he would do it face-to-face.

  “Approaching range of surveillance satellites,” Chief [111] Brantley announced, quickly working the navigation controls.

  “Reducing speed,” the captain said, and Kell felt the slight shudder of sublight deceleration.

  “Course plotted. Nearest satellite moving out of range ... now,” Brantley said.

  Kirk executed another maneuver. He alternately sped up and turned to stay out of range of the Orions’ early-warning system. With the satellites orbiting quickly around the planet, the sensor coverage changed constantly.

  Plotting a course through such a mess was very difficult Piloting that course was nearly impossible. Yet Brantley and Kirk were doing it as if it were a matter of routine.

  Finally, Kell felt the engines’ hum increase in pitch and watched as the planet grew quickly in front of them.

  The world was blue and white. Kell wondered if there was any land at all. There was certainly none that he could see on the quarter view that showed through the forward window.

  “Entering planet’s outer atmosphere,” Kirk said, as he worked the controls. “Brace yourselves, we’re going to be heading for the surface at high speed. Then we have to come around at low altitude. It may get bumpy.”

  A sudden glow against the shuttle’s forward shields told Kell they had made contact with the atmosphere. The glow quickly brightened and the Klingon could feel the rumble of the shuttle’s movement through atmosphere.

  In seconds the glow became a fireball that Kell knew was leading the ship, held away from the hull by the shuttle’s force screens. When the glow became painfully bright, Chief Brantley hit a switch and the blast doors covered the window.

  [112] The shuttle was now hurtling at high speed toward the surface, with the captain using instruments to control its descent.

  The rumble grew, shaking the Klingon in his seat. Then Kell pitched forward as the captain executed a sudden deceleration and the flight became smooth again. When the blast shields opened, he could see blue sky. From his angle he could not see the planet’s surface, but he assumed they were at a fairly low altitude.

  Now, Kell knew, came the longest part of the trip. Since the shuttle came down on the far side of the planet to avoid detection, it would have to travel thousands of kilometers to reach the Orion installation. Even at hypersonic speeds, that would take some time.

  “I can’t believe you are going to just sit there and wait,” McCoy blustered from behind Spock. It occurred to the Vulcan once more that it was neither necessary nor logical for the ship’s surgeon to spend so much of his time on the bridge. On the other hand, it was standard practice on board the Enterprise. Failure to accept that fact of his life among humans would be illogical.

  “What part do you find difficult to believe, Doctor? That a Vulcan would be able to sit patiently when patience is required, or that I would follow the captain’s orders?” Spock replied.

  “There must be something else we can do,” McCoy said, ignoring him.

  Spock gave the doctor’s words some thought. Humans seemed to need to remain active, even when activity could not further their cause at the moment.

  The Vulcan knew the doctor was motivated by [113] concern for the captain and the landing party. He also knew that McCoy was not the only one concerned. Subtle changes in body language told him that the bridge crew was anxious.

  And Mr. Scott was at his station despite the fact that he had not been scheduled for bridge duty.

  As a Vulcan, he did not require pointless activity to keep his mind free of anxiety. Worry would not help the captain. Focusing his mind on other things was simply a matter of mental discipline.

  Yet he judged that it would be simpler to give the crew a task than it would be to teach the four hundred and twenty-four of them even rudimentary Vulcan mental disciplines.

  “Mr. Scott, can you recalibrate sensors to track the shuttle on the ground?” Spock said.

  The chief engineer shook his head. “At this range ... I will see if I can,” Mr. Scott said, sitting at his console.

  “Lieutenant Uhura, can you boost reception strength so we can monitor the landing party’s communicator exchanges?” Spock asked.

  “Sir, at this range, we will only be able to hear them if they use the shuttle’s com system,” she said. “The individual communicators are too low in power ... unless we used spectral analysis of the upper atmosphere to look for resonating frequencies. It would mean reprogramming astrological sensors,” she said.

  “Then you had better begin,” Spock said.

  “And we might have to move the ship around the system to find the best signal,” she said.

  “Coordinate with the helm, Lieutenant,” Spock said.

  The Vulcan looked at doctor McCoy, who did not [114] look happy, but he had ceased complaining. Spock judged that a small victory.

  He heard Mr. Scott mutter in rather colorful language. The volume was too low for the humans to hear, yet Spock heard it clearly.

  Finally, Mr. Scott stood up and headed for the turbolift. “I will be down at sensor control,” he said.

  The engineer’s voice was gruff but Spock knew that he was pleased to have an activity. The Vulcan thought that his and Lieutenant Uhura’s projects might even prove useful.

  For himself, he preferred using mental discipline to keep from nonproductive worry over the captain. It was a simple matter of focusing his mental energy on useful tasks. At the moment, he created several scenarios for potential dangers to the captain and the landing party. He ran through each scenario, calculating the Enterprise’s best possible response to each. To be certain of his results, he ran and reran each scenario over and over.

  Spock judged that a useful task, a much better use of his time and mental energy than human worry.

>   Kell did not mind the monotony. He knew it defined battle almost as much as actual conflict. As a young Klingon, he had dreamt of endless battles and victories. Now he knew that even the most intense fighting was usually a short diversion from the duty that took most of a warrior’s time—waiting for the next battle.

  For now he was content to wait. And he was grateful for the silence that his squad seemed to be respecting. The Klingon doubted that he would survive long after [115] killing Kirk. Kell recognized that this was likely the last similar period of rest that he would have.

  And while he was prepared to face his duty and his own death, at the moment he was not prepared to face Leslie Parrish. She would never understand why anything further was impossible for him. She would find out soon enough. In the meantime, he did not want to see her disappointment in her face. He saw too much of his own dishonor there.

  Finally, the captain said, “Take over, Mr. Brantley,” then got up to face the security squad.

  “We will be approaching the Orion mining operation shortly. Our initial mission will be reconnaissance only. We are not to engage the enemy unless they leave us no choice,” Kirk said.

  Kell felt the comfortable weight of the phaser rifle on his lap. The captain had ordered the weapons come with them on this mission. He wondered if Kirk actually believed the landing party would be able to avoid engaging the Orions for long.

  “Our primary mission will be to collect data on the installation, determine if there are any ships on the ground or any defenses that might pose a threat to the Enterprise. We are also to evaluate the nature of the threat the Orions pose to the indigenous population. If possible, we are to avoid all contact with the planet’s natives. They are a pretechnological society and are not ready for contact with a warp-capable society.”

  “Excuse me, sir,” Benitez said, “but haven’t they most likely already had some contact with the Orions?”

  “Probably, yes,” Kirk replied. “The Orions are not known for their strict adherence to the Prime Directive. [116] Nevertheless, while we cannot solve all the problems in the galaxy, we can avoid adding to them.”