by Diane Carey
be movement, action against the Havoc, which he had let
slip through his grip by failing to destroy the Havoc ship
from within when he had the chance. Since then, everything
that had happened had done so because of the
price of his own life.
He would not make so great an error again. The
Klingon who stopped the Havoc would be the icon of the
next age.
And more, far more, the disaster to his people and all
people would be shoved back into the maw of legend.
With his gut-stained hand he shoved his blade into his
belt and clawed for the communicator. The instrument
nearly slipped between his wet fingers. If it fell, it would
ring the deck as loudly as a klaxon and they would come
and find him.
He brought the instrument to his lips. "Qul. Qul.
Activate transporter. I have the prooff"
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Diane Carey
"This is a mighty odd invasion, as invasions go."
McCoy adjusted the antigrav on Spock's diagnostic
bed down another few degrees, then tilted the upper-body
section of the bed so Spock could at least feel as if
he were sitting up some.
The science officer's computer accesses were still at
fingertip convenience and Spock wasn't moving much,
but his face had lost its sea-foam pallor. The therapy of
work had done him good.
McCoy wished there were something that could do
some good for a furious captain whose arms were
knotted at his sides and who couldn't seem to stop
pacing in bitter rage.
"I've got a crewman murdered by a dignitary with
whom I made a treaty, and a potential flashpoint on my
hands," he snarled as he swung around and started back
toward Spock after coming nose-up to a shelf full of
vials. Every time he paced over there he caught a sour
vision of himself in a mirror behind the shelves.
It made him madder.
He struck the nearest comm unit and for the fourth
time clipped, "Kirk to Security. Progress report."
There was a pause, though he could tell through raw
experience that the line was open.
"Captain, Giotto here. We've completed our bio-sweep.
There's no Klingon on board anymore. The
general must've gotten off the ship somehow."
Big surprise.
"Understood. Shields up. No more beaming unless I
authorize it personally."
"Aye-aye, sir."
He snapped the comm off without acknowledging and
twisted back to Spock "Have you got anything? Anything
at all?"
Spock's straight brows furrowed some as the responsibility
hit him squarely between them, but he tapped on
his keyboards and brought up on the screen a stylized
watercolor painting of a creature disturbingly like one of
Zennor's party.
154
FIRST STRIKE
"in Klingon legend, the Shushara was a winged demon,
or group of demons, given to consuming unsuccessful
warriors, beginning with their feet and eating its
way up the body while the victim witnessed this and
contemplated his failures. Like many other demons, they
were ultimately banished, but promised to return with
the Havoc to consume the weak. Kellen may see Zen-nor's
crew as a manifestation of the Empire's failure to
expand since the establishment of the Neutral Zone by
the Federation."
"Havoc is their punishment for having let themselves
be contained?"
"Yes," Spock said. He moved his hand to his lap,
rather gingerly, slowly, and scooped up the crescent
brooch, looking at the scratch of stars and comets upon
which Zennor's civilization set its hopes. "Regarding
this etching, taking into account the ten differing periods
of their standard year and the speed and movement of
stars, there is a legitimate corollary in the Danai research.
They seem ready to jump to a conclusion, but
n othing is disprovable yet. Any arrangement of stars
may look like something else five thousand years later
from any angle of your own choosing. I must admit,
though, this is an excellent correlation to this particular
stellar group, given the millennia and the constant
movement of celestial bodies. I find myself deeply impressed
that they managed to do this, especially from
across the galaxy, Captain. The technology--"
"Not the technology now, Spock. How likely is it that this is the actual place?"
Spock let the brooch slip back onto his thigh and
moved his eyes to Kirk. "Not very likely."
Kirk flattened his lips. "As I understand it, Zennor
and Garamanus are competing for the loyalty of their
crew. Garamanus is, more or less, the spiritual force
aboard, like the priests who went on board the ships
the Spanish Armada and were the political force that the
captain had to deal with. When Zennor didn't move to
destroy us and the Klingons, Garamanus had a reason
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not to trust him. Zennor's required to take certain steps.
If he doesn't take them, Garamanus can have him
removed."
"And one of those steps," McCoy prodded, "is to
prove that we're the conquerors, whoever they were?"
"Or that we're not. 'Conqueror' to them is like saying
Kodos the Executioner to us. We have to establish that
we weren't involved in the conquest that banished their
civilization and that they have come to the wrong place
to look for their home."
"They have ferocious religious beliefs, evidently,"
Spock said, "and these have taken care of them over the
generations."
"But Zennor seems to be some kind of agnostic," Kirk
added. "He wants our help to disprove that we're the
conquerors. Their priests have settled on this area for
their own reasons, and the scientists have been afraid to
challenge. They put all their cultural energy into coming
here, but Zennor doesn't want to come here and become
just another conqueror. He has a mission inside his
mission--to disprove the mission."
"Interesting," Spock murmured. "The galaxy is prohibitively
huge, Captain, and they have risked everything
to come to this one area. Either way, the trip is one-way
for Zennor and his crew. No matter what happens, they
cannot go back. They are here now. Such commitment
takes great fortitude. I am impressed with Vergo Zennor
for taking on convictions above and beyond belief in his
assignment."
"So am I," Kirk said with a reckless sigh.
"The priests of their culture are taking this as hard
fact," McCoy said, holding out a hand to Spock. Then he
looked at Kirk. "They'll only take hard fact to knock it
down. What're we going to do?"
Kirk glowered at the edge of the bed, not really seeing
it. "If we go there and there's no such planet around the
star they've targeted, or there is a planet but there's
never been life on it, then their pla
n falls apart. Zennor
156
FIRST STRIKE
wants it to fall apart, but we have to go there to pull it down."
"Vergo Zennor believes his ship can stand up to a
Klingon fleet attack," Spock said. "I have checked and
double-checked their vessel, and yes, it is powerful and
may be able to stand down a squadron of patrollers. But
a fleet of heavy cruisers -- I tend to doubt."
"I don't want to find out," Kirk said. "If it comes to
that, I'll have to side with Zennor. The Klingons are
being completely irrational about this. They're acting on
an instinctive leveL"
"I can understand it," McCoy offered. "Our crew's
having the same reaction. And so am I. These people
look... I don't know, familiar somehow. Even though
I've never seen anything that looks like any of them
before."
"Regardless, I've got a decision to make. Do I violate
Klingon deep space now that I've put my foot in this? Or
do I abandon Zennor at the Neutral Zone and see to myself?. No, scratch that. I've made a commitment to the
situation."
The doctor frowned. "Jim, shouldn't you ask permission
from Starfleet Command before you make any
tactical movements farther into Klingon space?"
"I've already been given permission once. Why ask
again and give them a chance to say no? Those orders
aren't withdrawn. The mission isn't over. It's still my
option. I won't hand that option away to a bureaucrat.
All right, Spock, you've found a threadmfollow it. In the
meantime, I'm going to let Zennor set the pace. He
knows the pressures he's dealing with and I believe him
when he says he wants to knock the knees out from
under the driving forces. There's a short road to defusing
this situation and unfortunately it leads directly into
Klingon territory"
Scooping up the crescent brooch, Kirk rubbed his
thumb across the etching on the inner curve, then held it
out before them.
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Diane Carey
"This is it, gentlemen," he said. "If we can disprove
this, the invasion falls apart."
The crew of the Imperial patrol cruiser Qul shrank
back like beaten children, huddled into the recesses of
the bridge, and covered their faces with shuddering
hands. Before them writhed the unthinkable, the incarnate,
twisting between the fingers of General Kellen as
he held high the proof of Havoc.
Kellen felt like a living beacon as he held the straining
tentacles of the Iraga before his witnesses.
"All screens on! Broadcast this on all frequencies to
the squadron and on long-range to the fleet and all
Imperial receivers, wide dispersal! There will be no more
doubt!"
No one moved. Aragor, Mursha, Karg, Rek, Horg--they
all stared with eyes like eggs at the thing in his
hands, which stared back with its slowly blinking green
eyes and moved its lips in ghastly beckoning at them.
"Quickly!" Kellen roared. "Before it dies!"
There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast;
A tousie tyke, black, grim, and large, To gie them music was his charge
He screw'd the pipes and gart them skirl, Till roof and rafter a' did dirl.
Coffins stood round, like open presses, That shaw'd the Dead in their last dresses...
Robert Burns
"Tam O'Sbanter"
158
Chapter Twelve
"The ship is run at sublight speed by an internally
metered pulse drive. We call it impulse."
"We have something similar."
"I know you do. There's quite a bit that's similar
about your civilization and ours. If we can reach an
understanding, perhaps your people will be satisfied to
settle here and exchange knowledge, share a few things."
"Vergokirk... you underestimate the passion of my
civilization. You are too comfortable in your identity.
You and your friends, and the Klingons and others here,
all have a sense of home. You all know where you came
from. You have no doubt in your souls about defending
it. When we find our space, we will defend it."
Each corner of the captain's cabin and office had been
thoroughly roamed, and now Zennor had found himself
the most amenable corner from which to contemplate
the place and people among whom be now found himself.
He hovered behind the perforated privacy partition,
which cast a gridlike pattern of shapes and shadows
upon his face and form. Standing there in the dimness,
he was as bizarre a visage as Jim Kirk had ever seen.
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Diane Carey
"You say that with great conviction, but I'm not sure I
accept what you say," Kirk told him. "You've admitted
you think the evidence is too scant."
"Scant or not, it is taken as religion now." Zennor
turned to Kirk, and his bony face was terrible as it
caught the brittle shadows. "I do not believe you are the
conquerors."
Strange how his words were so antithetical to the
appearance of this enigmatic alien. He was indeed a
ghastly visage hovering there in the shadows, the light
designed mostly for humans stamping in confusion
across the angles and twists of his skull and horns. And it
had no idea what to do with those eyes.
"If we find this is the wrong space, we can live among
your Federation. There is something here upon which to
build, and my people are builders."
"And we'll welcome you," Kirk said. "We'll welcome
you right now, if you'll let us."
Before Zennor could answer, the comm unit behind
Kirk twittered and he turned to it. "Kirk here."
"McCoy, Captain. As soon as you can, would you
please come down to sickbay? I've got an emergency and
I believe you should know about it."
Abruptly interested, Kirk pressed his elbow to the
comm and leaned closer. "Is Spock all right?"
There was a pause. "It's something else, Captain.
Please come alone."
Come alone? What was that supposed to mean?
Instantly he knew what it meant. Leave Zennor up
here, something's been found out.
"If you'll excuse me," he said quickly, "my first officer
was severely injured this morning and I think my ship's
surgeon is trying to cloak any weaknesses in my staff. If
you wish to leave here, push this button and Security will
answer. They'll escort you back to the bridge or to the
others in your party. As I understand it, they're enjoying
their tour of the ship."
162
FIRST STRIKE
"Bones? What's going on?"
Sickbay's main door panel to the corridor closed
behind Kirk.
"I'm in here, Captain," McCoy called, and appeared
in the doorway of an auxiliary examining room.
Kirk glanced into the main ward, where Spock was
confined, but didn't go in there. "All right, what's your
crisis?"
"Captain," the doctor said, "there's been a murder."
As he looked at McCoy's so
ber face and hoped for a
punch line, Kirk felt his feet go cold. "You mean, other
than Brown? A second one?"
"Yes. But not one of our crew. This is one of Captain
Zennor's people. It was just discovered about twenty
minutes ago. Security delivered the body down here and
I instructed them that I would notify you."
Ramifications tumbled across Kirk's mind, piling one
upon the other. A visitor from an alien vessel in a
volatile situation, murdered. Here.
Horrible.
But only a little more horrible than the body McCoy
led him to. This wasn't just a murder. This was a
slaughter.
Kirk stood over the mutilated cadaver lying on its slab
in the lonely and so rarely used morgue, unfortunately
today occupied by the bodies of crewmen killed in the
land battle with the Klingons. In a few days, they would
be buried in space with full honors, once matters at hand
were dispensed with and the crew could adjust to the loss
of shipmates. It was never easy.
This, though--this thing on the slab...
He cleared his throat. "Where's the head?"
"I don't know," McCoy said straightaway. "We
haven't been able to find it. I suspect--"
"That Kellen took it with him."
"Then you do think he did it?"
"We'll know in a minute." He reached for the comm
on the wall, the least-used one on the ship. "Kirk to
Security."
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Diane Carey
"Security, Hakker."
"Do a biosweep of the ship for Klingon biological
readings. Hail sickbay with the results."
"Right away, sir."
"Kirk to bridge."
"Bridge, sir."
"Bring the ship to double yellow alert. And hail the
Klingon fleet."
"One moment, sir."
The moment was a long, ugly one. Kirk stared at the
remains, and McCoy stared at Kirk, both supremely
aware of each other.
"What're you going to do?" McCoy finally asked when
