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

by Kevin Ryan

  Kirk saw the warp reactor looming up ahead as he ran. The large vertical cylinder that glowed with blue light was huge, much larger than the ones he had seen on starships. It extended past the hundred-meter height of the ceiling and deep into the floor of the chamber as well.

  He realized that it was even bigger even than the ones he had seen that powered some of the larger starbases.

  Kirk noted that its power output must be enormous. And in just minutes that power would be directed toward the core of this planet. The results would be catastrophic.

  But they wouldn’t let that happen.

  Scanning the area, he didn’t see any Orions, which made sense. They understood the danger better than anyone.

  Still, something did not feel right.

  He slowed his pace. Chief Brantley did the same beside him, and the others followed suit.

  Kirk turned to see that Ensign Jawer had his tricorder out. “There’s no one here. It’s unprotected,” he said.

  “That’s what worries me,” Kirk said.

  But the ensign was already stepping around Chief Brantley. “If I can get in there quickly.”

  “Wait—” Kirk said.

  Brantley moved quickly, grabbing Jawer by the shoulder and pulling him back.

  “What?” the young ensign said.

  Brantley raised his phaser rifle and pointed it at the floor just a few meters in front of their position.

  He fired and the beam was immediately absorbed by [252] a large forcefield that flared brightly. From the flash, Kirk could see that the forcefield extended the thirty-meter width and approximately one-hundred-meter height of the outer entrance of the reactor chamber.

  “Oh, sorry, sir,” Jawer said.

  Kirk pointed to a bank of controls and consoles near the entrance. “Can you shut it off?”

  Jawer looked at the controls, then back to the forcefield. Kirk could see an idea form on the ensign’s face.

  He lifted his phaser and said, “Actually, I think there is an even quicker way, Captain.”

  Kirk smiled and said, “Be my guest, Ensign.”

  Jawer stepped to the side of the corridor and motioned everyone to do the same.

  Then he raised his weapon and pointed it at the far right side of the forcefield, just past where the field emitters would be.

  Though the field emitters themselves were protected by the forcefield, the wall-that held them in place was not.

  Jawer’s beam cut directly into the wall. Kirk could see the flare when the red beam struck metal. The wall was reinforced and could have withstood any standard-issue side arm ...

  ... but not a Starfleet phaser rifle set for a full-power blast.

  Using the beam to cut downward, Jawer sliced away at the frame that defined the entrance to the reactor chamber. Large chunks of metal fell away.

  Then the right side of the entrance started to fall. The field emitters on the right side of the field were denied power and the entire forcefield shorted out in a brilliant flash that left a bright afterimage on Kirk’s vision.

  [253] Kirk smiled at the ensign. “An impressive display, Mr. Jawer.”

  “Thank you, sir,” he replied.

  “Let’s move,” Kirk said, heading for the reactor at a run.

  There were banks of computer terminals and control consoles. Most of them were mysteries to Kirk, but they seemed to make sense to Jawer as he quickly scanned each one.

  He settled on one console and said, “This is the master control panel, sir.”

  The others converged on the station to watch the ensign work. He flipped a switch and one of the monitors came alive with a countdown in English numerals.

  They had less than seven minutes to go.

  Jawer studied the rest of the controls in front of him for a moment. Then he hit a series of switches and buttons.

  “Captain, this one should do it,” he said, pointing to a single, green switch.

  “Any chance of booby traps?” Kirk asked.

  “Unlikely, sir. Warp systems, particularly these large ones, are designed with many redundant safety protocols. The Orions turned them all off, but they likely didn’t have time to program anything as elaborate as a booby trap—which the master computer might have rejected anyway.”

  “Are you sure, Ensign?” Kirk asked.

  Jawer didn’t flinch. “Yes, sir.” Kirk noticed that in this area, the young man had complete confidence.

  “Do you give the word, Captain?” Jawer asked him.

  “The word is given, Ensign,” Kirk said.

  Jawer hit the switch.

  For a long moment, nothing happened. Then a low hum filled the room.

  [254] The warp core pulsed for a moment. Then the blue light that ran its entire length pulsed and faded. Then Kirk saw a change near the ceiling. The warp core was going dark from the top down. The same thing was happening from the floor up.

  The blue light of the reactor was shrinking toward its own center.

  Then the shadows that replaced the shrinking blue light met and the warp core was dark.

  The hum also died, and Kirk knew it was over.

  “Excellent work,” he said. “Now, let’s pick up Anderson and Benitez and get back to the surface.”

  “These two are alive,” someone said. There was clear malice in the voice, and something else, something familiar that he could not place.

  Kell struggled to get up. He would face this foe on his feet.

  Summoning all of his strength, he managed to pull himself to his knees, before a boot-clad foot struck him, hard, in the ribs and forced him onto his side.

  From his new position, he could see Benitez clearly. The human was injured, but moving. Like Kell, he was trying to orient himself and looking around for the enemy.

  Darkness threatened to engulf Kell, but he fought it back. He had seen something, something important.

  Forcing his eyes open, he saw what it was. Benitez’s uniform was drawn up on one side, revealing the phaser 2 that was still there.

  The human was shaking his head, no doubt trying to [255] clear it. Did Benitez know it was there? Would there be time to use it against their enemy?

  Then Kell saw that Benitez was reaching for something, for his phaser, but his movements were sluggish.

  Then Kell saw two boot-clad feet striding over to Benitez’s position.

  “Not so fast, Earther,” a voice said, and one of the boots lashed out at Benitez.

  But the human was very near the edge of the pit.

  “No!” Kell called out Before he realized he was doing it, he was getting quickly to his feet—quickly enough to see another kick to Benitez’s side, this one knocking the phaser off him and out of reach. One more kick and the human would go over the side.

  Kell took a step toward Benitez, who met his eyes for a moment.

  Then a hand grabbed Kell and he was spun around to face his enemy.

  For a moment, he thought he must be looking at one of Gorath’s warriors, but this Klingon was wearing the uniform of the Klingon Defense Force.

  Kell saw that the Klingon was pointing a heavy disrupter straight at his chest. Then Kell realized what had been familiar about the voice he had heard—it had been speaking Klingon. Not the ancient Klingon of Gorath’s people, but the current tongue of the Empire.

  The Klingon was sneering at him and said. “Don’t worry, you will die with your fellow Earther.”

  Kell’s vision was very clear now. He saw that the Klingon pointing a weapon at him was a low-ranking one—someone’s personal guard. So was the Klingon standing over Benitez.

  [246] Their leader was studying Kell with interest. He wore the uniform of a Klingon high commander and there was something familiar about him.

  Then the Klingon guard close to him pushed Kell toward Benitez and the pit.

  “Wait,” the officer said, approaching Kell. “I know this one.”

  The guard gave his commander a look of dumb disappointment, but put his hand down.
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  The officer came closer, studying Kell. Surprise registered on his face.

  “betleH ’etlh SoH,” Or, in English, “You are the Blade of the Bat’leth.”

  “I serve the Empire,” Kell said in Klingon, giving the response.

  “Jon, what—” Then a booted foot struck Benitez, not hard enough to put him over the edge, but enough to silence him. Kell remembered that his roommate spoke Klingon, or at least understood it.

  He also remembered that Benitez had learned it to win something called a Galactic Citizenship badge as a young man. Kell shook his head. The humans had courage and could perform great feats, but they were painfully naïve.

  “Have you completed your mission? Is Kirk dead?” the officer said. Then Kell remembered where he had seen the Klingon before. It was shortly after his surgery. The high commander had inspected all of the Infiltrators in his group before Kell had been sent on his mission—before he had been sent to the Enterprise.

  “No,” Kell said, but his mind was already filling with questions. “The Orions?” he asked.

  [257] “They are dead,” the officer said. “They were useful to us, but not anymore.”

  “Useful?” Kell asked.

  “They are targs, they did some tasks for us, built and ran this complex,” the officer said.

  “But those of our blood on the surface?” Kell said.

  “Yes, they fought well and killed all of the Orion targs on the surface,” the officer said, smiling.

  Kell found his blood boiling as his understanding grew. “This complex would have destroyed them all—and they are of our blood. They carry the blood of our honored ancestors.”

  The Klingon officer’s eyes were cold. “They are an unfortunate loss, but one that we have to bear.”

  Kell could not believe the officer’s words.

  “This is war!” the Klingon high commander shouted. Then he smiled and said, “If you want to eat pipius claw you have to break a few pipiuses.”

  Then the officer gave Benitez’s guard a signal, and the guard gave Benitez a single hard push with one boot.

  “No!” Kell called out, but before the word was out of his mouth, his partner and friend had disappeared into the pit.

  The officer looked at him with disdain. “You value those cowardly Earthers? They have contaminated you. It was a concern for the Infiltrator project. Fortunately, some of you remember their duty.”

  The officer headed for the transporter pad, motioning for his two guards to follow. The officer stepped onto the pad and turned to face him.

  “Now you can die with your precious Earthers.” He checked his chronometer and said, “Very soon.”

  [258] Then a Klingon transporter beam took him.

  Kell could not believe what he had just witnessed.

  This was not the Empire he served. That Empire had been forged when Kahless the Unforgettable forged the first bat’leth. Its path had been set when Kahless used the blade to slay the tyrant Molor. And its destiny sealed with the blood of every Klingon who died with honor and met Kahless on the other side of the River of Blood, in Sto-Vo-Kor.

  “Jon,” a thin voice said, breaking the terrible silence around him.

  “Jon,” it repeated.

  Before his mind registered the meaning of the sound, he was running to the edge of the pit.

  Benitez was there, clutching metal tubing and hanging over the abyss. Automatically, Kell climbed down the necessary steps and lowered his hand to Benitez.

  Then he stopped himself.

  “Jon,” Benitez said, straining.

  Kell thought of the Klingon high commander, who would sacrifice a planet full of Klingons to win a war that should never be fought.

  “I cannot betray my Empire, my people, my blood,” he said to Benitez, pulling his hand back.

  An understanding that Benitez had obviously been fighting crossed his face. “You’re a Klingon.”

  “Yes,” Kell replied, speaking the truth to his partner and friend for the first time since they met.

  Benitez’s hands began to slip and he struggled to adjust his grip.

  “Help me. This isn’t you, I know you. I know you, Jon. Help me and we can go to the captain. He’ll do [259] something ... he’ll help you. Help me, Jon. Don’t do this. This isn’t you.”

  Tears were streaming openly on the human’s face now. Jon understood why, though his own Klingon eyes had no tear ducts.

  It took all of Kell’s will to keep from reaching his hand down to his friend. But once he did that, he was exposed, and so were the dozens, perhaps hundreds of Infiltrators who were now throughout the Federation.

  The Empire might destroy itself in its quest to destroy the Federation, but he would not aid that destruction.

  He had lost so much of his honor, he would not forget his duty to his people.

  “I’m sorry, Luis. This is who I am,” he said finally.

  “I can’t hold on!” Benitez said.

  “I am sorry.”

  Then he saw that Benitez finally understood. The human had seen into Kell’s heart and saw that he would find no help there.

  The next look shamed Kell, because it was angry, defiant, and carried a terrible judgment.

  Still, Kell did not look away. He held Benitez’s eyes, the eyes of the only friend he now had, human or Klingon.

  He saw his own shame, his treachery, his dishonor and the final judgment on his honor.

  Benitez was slipping again, but he found strength in his defiance.

  “It won’t work, you Klingon bastard. He’ll stop you. The captain will stop you,” Benitez said. “You Klingons sell out your own kind. You won’t win,” the human spat. Kell could see that the skin on his partner’s right [260] forearm was torn. That hand was weakest and let go of the pipe first.

  The left hand soon followed, and Benitez fell, screaming.

  The screams sounded for what seemed like a long time. And then, even when they faded, Kell could still see Benitez falling.

  Then his friend finally disappeared into the darkness of the abyss.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  KELL WAS SITTING next to the pit when he heard movement behind him. There were voices, they were speaking to him, but he could not hear them over the roar of his blood.

  There was a hand on his face. It was gentle, smooth.

  “He looks all right, Captain,” a voice said. He recognized it. Parrish.

  Her face was in front of his. Then he was standing up, though it must have been through her action, because he was not aware of any motion in his own body.

  Then the captain was in front of him, his face full of concern.

  “The planet is safe,” Kirk said. Then the captain looked around, taking in the scene.

  “You destroyed the crystals?” Kirk asked, the voice bringing him back, quieting the roar in his blood by a small measure.

  [262] Then he remembered. He had a duty. He had to report to this man who had saved his life.

  “Yes, most of them,” he said.

  “Ensign Benitez?” Kirk asked him.

  “Dead,” Kell said, gesturing to the pit.

  Parrish made a sound; then a hand was on his shoulder. It was hers; he recognized the touch.

  “I’m sorry,” the captain said.

  Kell could see that the others were looking at him with feeling. There was a human word for it ... sympathy.

  It shamed him. He deserved nothing, having cast the last shred of his honor into the pit with Benitez.

  Still his mind took inventory. Brantley was alive. And Clark. And Jawer.

  They had all survived except for Sobel and Benitez.

  Kirk’s communicator chirped.

  “Kirk here,” he said.

  “Enterprise here, Captain,” the Vulcan’s voice said.

  “Once again, Mr. Spock, your timing is impeccable,” Kirk said.

  “I do not understand,” the Vulcan said.

  “I will explain in person, Spock. Six to beam up.�
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  A moment later the roar in his blood, his mind, and his ears was replaced by a different roar as the transporter beam took him.

  Lieutenant West reached the admiral’s office just behind Ensign Hatcher, who was carrying a tray that contained his lunch and the admiral’s.

  Normally, he would have closed the gap between them and said hello out of politeness if nothing else.

  But the incident outside of her quarters had been only [263] last night. Though West was still not sure exactly what had happened, he was sure that Hatcher was not interested in him. In fact, she seemed to actively dislike him.

  That was partially his fault. He had tried to shift their relationship to a personal level. Of course, he had not known at the time that for her the level included loathing.

  So West decided that he would keep their interaction entirely professional. If nothing else, it would allow him to avoid compounding his embarrassment.

  Walking a few meters behind her, he noted that her walk was still different. Whatever the injury was, it must have been still bothering her.

  She stepped into the admiral’s office. It was just a few meters more until she reached the admiral, who was standing in front of his desk, waiting for West.

  Then West noted that there was something else different about her: her legs, at least the portion that was not concealed by the duty skirt and high boots. They were swollen. No, not swollen, thicker.

  Suddenly, a terrible realization filled him. That is not Yeoman Hatcher.

  As that thought rose up in his mind, he saw her remove one hand from the tray and use it to throw off the cover.

  By the time he saw that she was reaching inside, he was already running and shouting “Admiral!” at the top of his voice.

  He raced for her and for the admiral. As he stepped just behind her, he used his left hand to grab her by the shoulder and pull, spinning her off balance.

  Thinking of the admiral, West leapt in front of her. He was in front of the admiral now and turning. Facing the [264] intruder, he saw a brief flash of metal, then felt only pressure as the blade penetrated his stomach.

  Acting reflexively, he reached out and pushed with both hands. He caught her off balance and she stumbled backward.

  Turning to look over his right shoulder, he saw the admiral raising a phaser that had somehow appeared in his hand.