by Diane Carey
moment, Captain."
Might or might not be true. Spock was smart. He knew
a hollow reassurance that he was just dandy would
probably result in his being kicked below. Telling a hazy
version of the truth, that he was suffering some, had a
different effect and implied that he would speak up when
he couldn't handle it anymore.
He probably wouldn't.
Feeling McCoy's dagger gaze from the port side of his
command deck, Kirk deliberately didn't look over there.
Gripping his chair as if holding himself to the concrete
presence of the chair and the deck, he watched the
Klingon fleet as it was casually smashed.
256
FIRST STRIKE
"Lieutenant Nordstrom, contact the flight deck and
sickbay. Deploy four pilots and two interns in two
shuttlecraft to retrieve lifepods and treat survivors. Instruct
them to stay at safe distance until the engagement i s over, and to make their reports to Mr. Chekov."
" n
"Understood, sir," Nordstrom responded, and turned
to her board.
"Sir!" Chekov bolted straight and looked at the screen,
but there was no time for him to say anything more.
Turning its hornlike tip to meet the remaining Klingon
ships, the Fury ship turned violent with yellow and
thistle-purple electrical weapons that buzz-sawed
through the Klingon approach. Amazing that such a
knightly color as purple and all its florid shades could be
made so bitterly deadly.
Before their eyes three more Klingon cruisers had
their approach-side wings shorn off and were forced to
drag themselves away, or be dragged, their structural
balance sliced apart as if they had been caught in a bear
trap. The ship from hell was a hell of a ship.
The main force of the Klingon battle fleet, crippled in
minutes?
It was unthinkable.
"My God!" McCoy croaked. "All of them at once
Jim, Kellen's ship! .....
The remaining Klingon vessel, the general's ship had
turned up on a wingtip and was tilting drunkenly across
space toward the midsection of the Fury vessel. The
Klingon ships were very heavy, long-bodied, almost as
heavy and long as the Enterprise, and a little better
balanced. To see one skidding on an edge like this,
rolling off its line of gravity and shrunken to toy proportions
as it rolled nearer and nearer to the enormous
modified Rath, shook the bridge crew for a few critical
seconds.
Byers came halfway out of his seat. "It's going to
collide!"
257
Chapter Nineteen
As A man steps onto a guillotine ramp, Jim Kirk stepped
onto the platform that held his command chair, slid onto
the edge of the black leather seat, and spoke quickly so
that his crew would move quickly. , . ,"
"Mr. Spock, condition of the general s ship."
"Impulse drive is off-line. They are helpless."
"How much of a pounding can we take?"
"Unknown." Spock swiveled his chair around to meet
Kirk's eyes. "May I ask why, sir?"
"Because I'm going to move her in at close range."
At the helm, Byers turned and his eyes got big. "Sir?"
Kirk ignored the question. "Ahead one-quarter impulse,
Mr. Byers. Mr. Donnier, ready with tractor beams."
"One-quarter impulse, aye."
"Tractor beams r-ready, sir."
"Full magnification on Kellen's ship."
The Enterprise leaped forward with breathtaking ferocity,
as hungry to get into the cockfight as her captain
was. The ship was different in battle mode than cruising
mode, all systems warmed up, on-line, backed up,
251t
FIRST STRIKE
humming... maybe she actually did jump. Maybe it
wasn't just imagination.
Patrol cruisers zigzagged in and out of the screen as
the starship approached the scene of intensity. On the
screen was a huge magnified picture of Kellen's cruiser
sliding toward the sharp edges of the Fury ship's five-hundred-foot-wide
scales. Kellen's disabled ship was
still shooting, though it drifted at a nauseating pitch
toward the Ruth, making a last-ditch attempt to do the
impossible.
The aft scales on the Fury ship were the largest ones,
and Kellen's ship was sliding toward the big vessel's aft
starboard quarter. Only now did Kirk get a full perspective
of just how large Zennor's ship had become, with
that vast new section added on.
What was in that section? Was that the power base?
"Mr. Spock, where's the emission center of those energy spirals? See if you can zero in on it."
Without answering, Spock lowered gingerly into his
chair, ran his fingers over his controls.
Kirk waved over his shoulder for Nordstrom's attention.
"Send Starfleet a recording of what we've seen so
far. Do it right away."
"Deploying, sir." A crack came out in her voice. She
was getting scared.
"Tractor proximity, Captain," Donnier struggled.
"Get it on, Mr. Donnier, don't wait for orders when
you know what to do. Keep Kellen from colliding into that ship."
"Aye, s-s--" Donnier didn't get the response out, but
he did get the tractor beam on.
The starship hauled back on the tractor beams and
Kellen's drifting ship drew up sharply just as its sagging
starboard wing grazed the edge of a purple scale that
would've cleaved it in half.
"Power astern," Kirk ordered at the right instant.
"Astern." Byers was hypnotized.
Kirk leaned forward. "Let's go, move... don't baby
her, Mr. Byers. Throttle up."
259
Diane Carey
He wasn't watching the Klingon ship being drawn
away from the Rath. He was watching the Rath. Would Zennor fire on him?
"Position of the Klingon fleet."
The ensign shook himself and bent over his sensors.
"Eight vessels... three completely disabled... one
more moving at less than one-quarter power... four
others regrouping."
"They actually retreated," McCoy observed. "After
just a few minutes."
"How many patrollers left?" Kirk asked.
Chekov squinted into his screen. "Six... seven still
functional, sir."
Looking blanched and strained, Spock pressed his
wrist to the edge of his console and paused to look at the
screen. "A great deal of damage with very few shots."
"Unless we find weakness, we can't deal with that ship
under these conditions," Kirk agreed. "Bring her midships,
Mr. Byers. Back straight off. I want my intentions
clear."
"Aye aye, sir." Byers licked his lips as he worked to
equalize the helm while hauling the Klingon vessel
whose damaged systems were still trying to propel it
along its last ordered course.
If Kellen would shut down, this would be a lot easier.
"Pull, Byers. Faster."
"Trying, sir, but there's some kind of resistance."
"Yes, the cruise
r's automatic drive--"
The petals of the Rat& filling the screen like huge
theatrical flats, began to glow with that sickly yellow-lavender
electrical presence.
Kirk drew a breath. "Uh-oh... double shields! Brace
yourselves!"
He turned to say something to Nordstrom, but suddenly
the ship heaved up as if in recoil and the night
opened up with purple dragons, cutting a blazing wave
across the primary hull and straight through the bridge,
throwing the captain and the standing crew to the deck
in a tangle.
FIRST STRIKE
"Overload!" Assistant Engineer Edwards shouted, the
first time since coming on the bridge that he'd said
anything at all.
Byers shielded his face from sparks launching from his
console, then waved at the smoke and shouted at the
screen.
"They fired on us! They fired on us right in the middle
of a rescue maneuver!"
Smoke boiled across the bridge. Ventilators came on
and sucked valiantly. Somehow the onrush of near-death
had shaken Byers out of his timidity and made him mad.
Good.
Generally, those two, Byers and Donnier, would be
nowhere near the bridge, yet they'd rallied here today,
under adverse conditions. Ordinarily in battle Kirk
preferred to have his senior crew there, Sulu and
Chekov, or Sulu and another navigation specialist, but
Sulu was down, Chekov was helping Spock, and Donnier
had just caught the bad luck of the draw.
Donnier and Byers would be able to claim having
served in the best crew in Starfleetmyes, they were the
best, but they were the best at their own specific jobs.
Nobody could be the "best" when thrown into somebody
else's job. Almost anyone could fake it at the
technicals of another position, but there would always be
a loss of art. Kirk knew that he could bull and cackle his
way around engineering, but that Scott would be a far
better captain than Kirk would ever be an engineer. That
was why people had specialties, and why the Enterprise was staffed with specialists. The art of the technology.
That was also what they needed today. A little creative
art among the technical business. A little sorcery...
Kirk waved at the smoke, motioned McCoy back
against the rail so he had something solid to hold on to,
and spoke past him to the engineering station, though he
couldn't see through the gushing smoke.
"Compensate," he authorized.
"There's a burnout on the crystal triodes, sir."
That was Nordstrom, but it came from the engineering
261
Diane Carey area. She was either helping Edwards or replacing him, if
he was down. The curtain of smoke went from the ceiling
to the upper deck earpet.
"Compensating," Donnier called from the starboard
side, up where Chekov had been. Unable to cough up
much volume, he spoke from the science subsystems station, leaving Byers to handle helm and weapons.
Was Chekov down?
Kirk flogged himself for not thinking to overstaff the
bridge. With Sulu down, he should've called an all-hands,
summoned the main watch, and just let it be a
little crowded up here.
Violent lights, shadows, and sparks argued all around
and hadn't settled when Zennor's ship turned loose another whip-crack of purple fire.
"Full astern! Byers[ Byers!"
He plunged for the helm console, found the chair
empty, poked through the smoke for the motive action
menu and forced his fingers to tap the impulse generation
up to full power.
"Power's wobbly, sir," Edwards reported innocently,
as if he didn't notice the ship being pummeled around
him.
"We've got to move off. Mr. Scott'll find the power."
The starship bolted again and his stomach went with
her. The deck groaned as if in convulsion beneath his
hands. A piece of the hull screamed past his face and he
swore it grazed him, but it was gone before he could raise
a hand to fend it off. The carpet and the deck beneath it
slammed him hard and drove his knees into the side of
his chair. The chair swiveled and he couldn't hang on.
He sprawled to the deck.
Splinters whistled past his ears and speared his shoulders.
He buried his head for an instant until the whistling
bore off, then grabbed for the sky and caught part of
the helm. He dragged himself to one knee, finally to
both, and was about to cheer his accomplishment when
he made the fatal error of looking up to scan the damage.
FIRST STRIKE
He saw Engineer Edwards' red and black form propelled
sideways by a vicious eruption at the port console,
slam into the bridge rail, and collapse to the deck.
The purple and sulfur twine of energy shined again on
the main screen. Zennor's ship basted near-space with
another razor of energy, and over Kirk's head--the
ceiling exploded.
262
263
Chapter Twenty
James KIrK waved at the smoke as it piled before him and
stung his eyes. Was the tractor beam holding? He
couldn't see the forward screen.
He grabbed for the foggy shape of his chair and hit the
comm. "Scotty, bridge? "Scott here."
"Trouble."
"See it, sir."
"Put everything to the shields and tractor beams.
Reduce life-support if you have to, but keep those shields
"No priority to the weapons, sir?"
"We can't punch through those hull plates. Just keep
the shields up."
"I like it, sir."
"I thought you would, Mr. Scott." He wheeled away,
toward starboard. "Mr. Spock?"
From the anterior glow of emergency lights, the blue-blacks
of Spock appeared out of the smoldering fabric of
the bridge. "Here, Captain."
"Where's Mr. Chekov?"
264
FIRST STRIKE
"On the deck, sir."
"Hurt?" He squinted into the rolling smoke near the
service trunks.
"No, sir," Chekov called, looking up from between his
arms, which disappeared past the elbows inside one of
the trunks. "Radiation wash in the bypass conduits, sir."
He stumbled across the English syllables as though he
believed he was speaking Russian.
Kirk turned, and realized the deck was at an angle.
"Are the tractor beams still on? Mr. Donnier, where are
you?"
"Here, sir?" Donnier dodged under a puff of sparks
near the main screen trunk and landed on both feet.
"Take over assisting Mr. Spock while Mr. Chekov
effects repairs. Lieutenant Nordstrom, take navigation
and weapons. You're going to have to learn to shoot."
"Coming, sir?
"Somebody have relief personnel sent to the bridge."
"I'll do it, Captain," McCoy called from the boiling
gray mist. "Relief personnel to the bridge. Repeat, relief
to the bridge, all stations!"
At once he realized they were all shouting. What was<
br />
all this noise they were shouting over? The red-alert
klaxon was howling, yes, and that god-awful whistle--must
be a hull breach somewhere up in the damaged
ceiling.
Somebody would pick up on it. Until it was sealed,
atmosphere would pour out in a bitter silver funnel into
the ice cold of space, and compensators would pump
more and more into the bridge so they could keep
breathing. The ship was exhaling herself to death to keep
them alive and she'd go down to the last quarter centimeter
of reserve oxygen before she gave up. She'd
sacrifice deck after deck, hoping her crew heard the
warnings and evacuated in time. If they didn't, they'd
die there while she tried to save the rest of the crew, until
failsafe made it all the way to the bridge. The bridge
would be the last to be sacrificed. She'd steal from her
own guts if that would work.
265
Diane Carey
And it just might. It would buy them time. The bridge
had to breathe if the ship was to be saved.
The turbolift wheezed two-thirds open, then jammed.
Four bridge relief crewmen poured out, followed by
three men in atmospheric suits. One of those carried a
collapsible ladder. They went to work on the sparking
ceiling while the relief crew dropped into appropriate
positions.
Byers was back at the helm. Kirk had no idea what had
happened to him, if he'd been knocked silly, if he'd
frozen with fear, or what. He was back now.
Two medical orderlies dropped at Edwards' sides
while relief personnel manned the engineering stations.
Kirk hadn't seen the medics come out of the lift, but
then he hadn't paid much attention.
The pair checked Edwards' vi tals, then scooped him
up and carried him to the lift. The lift wasn't happy
about having to close that jammed door and protested
with a metallic screech, but then that was done.
"Course, sir?" Byers asked.
"Away from the big ship any way you can do it, Mr.
Byers. Ensign, how are you doing on that radiation
wash?"
