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Star Trek - TOS - 79 - Invasion 1 - First Strike

Page 31

by Diane Carey


  else to say.

  'I regret... it has to be you," Zennor added then. 'I

  did not expect to like the conqueror."

  The station-sized ship began to hum and glow again in

  a now-recognizable process of building to open fire.

  Kirk nodded as if Zennor could actually see him. "I'm

  sorry too."

  He motioned for McCoy to close channels.

  "Kirk to Kellen. Brace yourselves and prepare to open

  fire."

  "Ready."

  "Mr. Donnier, tractor beams. Mr. Byers, full power to

  thrust. Let's pull that ship apart. General, open fire."

  The starship whined and dug in its heels, pit-bulling

  the hull plates of the Rath up two by two. The Klingon

  ship blasted photon salvos with accuracy down into the

  grooves left exposed as each plate was squalled backward.

  The blue balls of energy plowed straight down

  inside, to detonate deep in the grooves, pounding the

  inner hull of the Rath to bits and sending destructive

  explosions ricocheting around in there.

  Kirk crimped his eyes in empathy. He knew what was

  happening to the interior of the Rath. But there was also

  a naughty I-told-you-so swelling in his chest, and that

  was the feeling he grabbed on to for stability.

  Zennor's ship glowed and vaulted another heavy attack

  at the Enterprise and Kellen's ship.

  The bridge lights flashed, then went out completely for

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  a moment, leaving only the bright glow of the main

  screen and the scene on it. A moment later, small

  emergency lights came on along the deck and about

  halfway around the ceiling area, just enough to work by.

  Around him the crew's faces were sculpted to the bones

  by hellish red lights from below and creamy yellow lights

  from above, the hollows of their eyes made deep by

  shadows and their noses and chins turned to sickles.

  "Captain, shields just fell!" the relief engineer called.

  "We've got no protection anymore."

  "Spock, confirm that."

  "Confirmed, sir. No shield power left at all."

  "Perfect. If they hit us again, it's all over."

  "Sir," the engineer called again, "Mr. Scott says we've

  lost the conduits to the warp drive. The engines are good,

  but we can't engage them. We'll need twenty minutes to

  reestablish."

  "We've still got impulse, correct?"

  "Yes, sir, we've got that."

  "Understood. General Kellen, maintain fire. Attention,

  Klingon fleet. All available ships begin strafing

  maneuvers now. Come in at full impulse speed. Target

  specified areas of weakness between the abutting ends of

  the plates."

  Zennor's ships built to fire again and tried to pick off

  the Klingon ships as they rushed in like streaks of light,

  but at high speed they were better able to avoid the

  washing yellow-purple energy blasts, or at least to take

  only glancing blows. Two Klingon cruisers were

  slammed out of the way in the first attack, but others

  made it through and hammered the exposed inner skin

  of the Rath with blunt photons.

  The Fury ship started to move, to fall away, trying to

  gain some room, but the Enterprise stayed with it, and

  Kellen's ship continued to fire down into the fissures

  caused as the starship pulled up petal after petal.

  The bridge crackled and fumed with new damage, but

  the starship kept working. Kirk imagined the flurry

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  below decks to keep the systems on-line long enough to

  succeed. Engineers would be tripping over damage-control

  parties, who would be stepping between clean-up

  crews. Everybody was hustling today.

  "Sir, they're starting to pitch," Byers called out over

  the whistle of a leak on the port side.

  Before them Zennor's huge vessel began to tip downward

  and to roll sideways, bucking and twisting like an

  elk trying to throw off a clinging bobcat, but Kirk

  wouldn't call off. Zennor didn't have tractor beams and

  his technology hadn't anticipated them. That was why

  this could work.

  "Look!" Donnier choked, and pointed.

  "Flux emanations are off the scale, sir!" Chekov sang

  out, and also looked at the main screen.

  Zennor's ship, the whole vast length and breadth of it,

  was beginning to glow, but not like before. This glow

  came from inside, shining out of the edges of all the

  petals in the wide midsection, bright neon yellowish

  white, and it was expanding through the ship, spilling

  forward under the plates. Several of the plates were

  blown completely off as the violence traveled.

  "Building up to overload," Spock concluded as he

  looked at his sensor screen. Sharply he looked up.

  "Detonation any moment now."

  Nobody had to tell Kirk that. Halfway across the

  galaxy or not, he knew a main power core meltdown

  when he saw one.

  "Mr. Byers, full about! Ship to ship--General, we're

  evacuating. Notify your fleet to clear the area at high

  warp. Broadcast long-range warnings--"

  "We have no thruster power. You go, Captain Kirk,

  and we will continue firing until we all are a ball of fire.

  We will personally take that demon ship to its own

  prophecy!!"

  "They don't need an escort. Donnier, shift tractor

  beams to the general's ship."

  "Shifting beams, sir."

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  "We'll tow you out of the immediate impact range, General. With full shields you should be able to survive

  the blast."

  "Use your warp speed to get away, Kirk. All warriors

  die."

  "Yes," Kirk said. "But it's my turn today, not yours.

  Our shields are down and we've lost warp maneuvering

  power. We can't get far enough away from here to survive

  without shields."

  The crew tried to keep their faces still, but their

  postures were revealing. Kirk was careful not to turn his

  head, so none would feel lessened in his captain's eyes,

  even as he spoke of their impending deaths.

  The best crew in Starfleet. Didn't mean they were

  icicles. He regretted not coming up with a word or two of

  shallow comfort. They needed to hear that in his voice,

  but he had none. The only gift he could give them was that they would die while saving others.

  "We can tow you to safe range and your shields will

  protect you." He glanced around at the sweaty faces of

  his crew and noted how young they all were. "Everybody

  has to die sometime. At least we're dying for a good

  reason."

  "Idiot." Kellen's insult was almost warm. "Do you

  think you're dying today? Shields on extension mode."

  As the two ships drew away from the Rath at painfully

  slow speed, the Fury ship glowed brighter and rolled in

  space furiously now. More and more hull plates blew off

  as explosions tore through the inner core. A moment

  later, the point of the horn-shaped bow blew off, leaving

  a
shorn stump through which plasma and radiation

  boiled freely into space.

  "Captain," Spock began, "General Kellen's ship has

  extended their shields around us."

  "That stretches him too thin," Kirk commented, but

  didn't bother to call Kellen.

  As he looked from Spock to the main screen again, the Rath reached its critical mass. The hull plates blew off all

  over it.

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  Then, an explosion the size of a continent erupted

  across open space, devouring the purple structure until

  nothing could be seen but tumbling plates, spraying

  matter and energy, and bright incendiary destruction.

  Shock waves rocked the starship and the battle cruiser,

  shoving them bodily backward through space. Kirk

  clung to his chair as pressure hit him hard and artificial

  gravity on the ship crushed him toward the deck as it

  tried to compensate.

  The Enterprise went up on a side, almost ninety

  degrees. The crew tumbled, but they knew what to grab

  for and managed to pull themselves into place as the

  deck began to right.

  The Klingon shields crackled and sparked around

  both ships, but held. Wave upon wave of energy plied

  space across them in a vast sphere.

  Kirk waved at the electrical smoke and blinked as it

  burned his eyes. On the screen, the Fury ship was gone.

  Hell had gone to hell.

  279

  What is death but parting breath?

  -"MacPherson's Rant,"

  a folk song

  Epilogue

  "SECURE FROM RED ALERT. Establish contact with the shuttlecraft and have them report on any rescues and

  return to the ship as soon as possible. We need a damage-control

  party on the bridge."

  The bridge gasped and spat around them, but there

  was a sense of control again. Pausing to cough out the

  acrid smoke that was tickling his lungs, James Kirk

  prowled his bridge and checked on his people one by

  one. In their sweat-streaked faces he saw the charity they

  offered him for the decision he had been forced to make,

  their willingness to do it all again if necessary, and a

  respect he found somehow saddening.

  One by one they assured him they were all right and

  would now begin the slow process of piecing together the

  damaged systems that had brought them through all this

  alive.

  There wasn't one of them who would jump ship at the

  next dock after all this. These were the kind of people

  who discovered themselves better for having fielded

  mortal danger. No matter the fright, they hadn't

  crouched scared or shrunk from the face of it or let it

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  petrify them out of doing their jobs. Not even Donnier

  and Byers, who had found themselves in the wrong place

  at the wrong time, doing things they'd never imagined

  they would have to do. But if the ship had been wrecked

  under them, they'd have died with their hands on the

  halyards. That was something to write home about.

  One by one he congratulated them, and finally made it

  around to Spock.

  "Mr. Spock."

  "Captain."

  "Final analysis?"

  "Zennor's ship has been completely decimated. Their

  dreadnought attachment was apparently a massive power

  factory, and once unshielded and ignited..."

  Spock paused and shook his head, communicating

  silently the ferocity of such a chain reaction.

  "I am certain it was very quick," he added.

  Gratefully, Kirk made a small, inadequate nod.

  "Thank you. But Zennor made his own choice. I'm sorry

  it had to happen, but I won't blame myself."

  Spock seemed relieved by that. "Both the shuttlecraft Columbia and Galileo are on final approach, and both

  report having picked up survivors from several Klingon

  lifepods. Galileo reports she's towing what may be a

  lifepod from Zennor's ship, but there are no life signs

  aboard."

  "I want to have a look at that. Tell them not to open it

  until I get there."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Captain," McCoy interrupted, using his good hand

  to hold the communications earpiece to his ear. "General

  Kellen's requesting permission to come aboard."

  Kirk glanced at him. "Fine. But tell him to come

  unarmed this time and expect to be under armed escort

  at all times."

  McCoy paled at having to tell that to a Klingon

  general, but turned back to the board.

  "Captain," Spock went on, "I have also picked up

  telemetry broadcast by Zennor just prior to the final

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  explosion, but it has not been sorted out yet. The signals

  were scrambled and quite complex."

  "Telemetry? Meant for us?"

  "No, sir. I believe he meant it for broadcast back to his

  own people."

  "Do you think the message got through?"

  Spock canted his head to the side, then winced and

  straightened it again. "No way to tell. I know it was

  successfully broadcast, but there was no evidence that

  the fissure opened to receive it. Still, their technology is

  largely an unknown."

  "See if you can make any sense of it. I'll be on the

  flight deck. Have the general brought there when he

  comes aboard. McCoy, with me. And, Spock... thank

  you again."

  Spock clasped his hands behind his back, a casual

  motion considering his condition. "My pleasure to

  serve, Captain. As always."

  The flight deck was organized chaos. Well, havoc, to

  keep in the spirit of the occasion. The two newly

  returned shuttlecraft lay in the open rather than in their .

  docking stalls, having just come in with their various

  acquired rescues and tows. Several Klingon lifepods

  littered the deck, in various conditions from pristine to

  burned and dented, unable even to sit on the deck

  without tilting.

  Wounded Klingon soldiers, also in various conditions,

  sat or lay against every bulkhead. At first glance as he

  and McCoy entered, Kirk guessed there were over three

  hundred of them.

  McCoy broke off immediately to collect reports from

  the dashing interns, nurses, and medics. Orderlies and

  ensigns moved about everywhere, passing out drinks and

  something to eat that made most of the Klingons sneer,

  but they were all eating whatever it was and trying to be

  polite.

  Those who were conscious looked up at him suspiciously

  as he surveyed them and received reports from

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  Diane Carey the shuttlecraft lieutenants. He saw in their eyes their

  fears, relying on rumors of the savagery inflicted by

  Starfleet on any prisoners of war. They didn't seem to

  have quite absorbed the fact that they were in fact allies

  for the moment and were in the care of their commodore.

  "Lieutenant," Kirk greeted as the commander of the Galileo approached him with a manifest.

  "Staaltenburg, sir."

  "Yes, I remember. Er
ic."

  "That's correct, sir."

  "You're the one who reported picking up a pod from

  the big ship?"

  "Yes, sir." Staaltenburg brushed his blond hair out of

  his eyes and led the way around to the other side of

  Galileo, where there lay a solid black pod without so

  much as a running light upon it. In the blackness of

  space, it would've been completely invisible if they

  hadn't been scanning for things about that size.

  "We practically slammed into it, sir, before we realized

  it was there and wasn't an asteroid. I never heard of

  a lifepod that didn't want to be found. No life signs at all

  in there, by the way, sir. We've scanned it... no harmful

  rays or leaks, and there is an atmosphere in there, so

  it's properly pressurized. We can open it anytime you

  like."

  "Do so."

  Staaltenburg waved up two men who had been standing

  by, anticipating the order, who came in with phaser

  torches and went to work on the locking mechanism of

  the pod.

  "Captain," Staaltenburg said then, and nodded to

  ward the port side entryway.

  Kirk turned.

  General Kellen trundled toward him, flanked by two

  Starfleet Security guards.

  "General," Kirk greeted, not particularly warmed up.

  "Commodore. My men are being taken care of, I see,"

  the wide Klingon said, glancing about at the rows of

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  rescued soldiers. "I shall expect them to be completely

  cooperative."

  "So far, so good," Kirk said.

  Kellen faced him and looked over the tops of his

  glasses. "I congratulate you. You saved what is left of my

  fleet. You are the Kirk."

  Unable to muster any mirth, the captain--commodore--bobbed

  his brows in response. He got a

  little jolt of satisfaction at being reinstailed as the

  resident buzzard of Starfleet.

  "Thank you. You still have charges to face regarding

 

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