Star Trek - TOS - The Tears Of The Singers

by Melinda Snodgrass

  help it. Sanity reasserted itself before he had done more than turn, and he

  continued his dash for cover.

  His breath was rasping in his throat, and there was a burning in his lungs

  by the time he covered the thirty yards that separated him from the tent,

  so he simply lay on the

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  ground behind the flimsy cover, and tried to calm the frantic hammering of

  his heart. Around him he could hear cubs singing in discordant terror, and

  occasionally one or two of them would come flopping past. The tiny cub who

  had a patch of golden hair on one flank, and who was a particular favorite

  of the composer's, went howling past the tent. Maslin reached out and,

  wrapping his arms around the round, furry body, pulled it into cover with

  him. It seemed the least he could do since the creature had saved him that

  day on the beach when he had been overcome by his illness. The creature

  moaned in a minor key, and buried its face in the human's shoulder. They

  huddled together while energy bolts ripped through the camp.

  Across the camp McCoy maintained a steady monologue about the perfidy and

  duplicity of Klingons while Spock, phaser out, scanned the cliff walls

  searching for their attackers.

  "Damn Klingons! I knew we were making a big mistake trusting them. Why Jim

  felt he had to rely oD--2'

  "Doctor," Spock interrupted, "since you do not have a phaser could you

  perhaps try to make yourself useful by contacting the Enterprise, and

  apprising the captai n of our situation?"

  "I was going to do that," McCoy replied in an aggrieved tone.

  "You surprise me," Spock said dryly as he squeezed off a shot at an unwary

  head which had appeared over the top. of a boulder some three-quarters of

  the way up the right cuff.

  McCoy ignored him, having finally managed to reach the ship. Tzeela's voice

  came faintly through the communicator, overlayed and punctuated with heavy

  static.

  "Doct . . one moment, the captain will ... soon . .

  "Jim!" McCoy shouted into the communicator. "What's going on up there?"

  "Kiingons, we're . . ." The rest of his words were lost in a

  long burst of static. -

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  "What? Repeat please, you're not coming through.

  There was a momentary clearing, and Kirk's voice came through clearly.

  "We're under heavy attack up here so I'm afraid you're on your own. Thke

  care of them as best you can. Kirk out."

  "Captain? Captain? Jiml" McCoy demanded, shaking the communicator and

  twisting the tuning dial, but there was no answer.

  "Don't try to reopen communication, Doctor. It is apparent the captain is

  fully occupied, and should not be distracted byus. 99

  "So what do you suggest we do?"

  "Fight, and hope for the best."

  "I can think of other people I would prefer to have in command of a battle

  situation," McCoy muttered as he thought back on that time when Spook had

  taken command after the Galileo 7 shuttle craft had been drawn off course

  and forced to land on Taurus H. A bolt of deadly energy buried itself in

  the sand -next to his leg, and McCoy flinched back behind the tent.

  "I am aware of your doubts about my command abilities in a combat

  situation, Doctor, but believe me." He paused and fired, and a small figure

  jerked and tumbled down the cliff face. "I am capable of fighting when I am

  forced to it.-

  "I'm glad to hear it, Mr. Spook," McCoy concluded and, hunkering down next

  to the tent, he stared at his own quarters some fifty feet away, and

  bitterly regretted leaving his phaser among his belongings in the tent.

  Maslin too was feeling useless, and more frightened than he had ever felt

  in his life as he lay huddled behind the tent with the 1hygetian clutched

  in his arms. He hoped that no errant shot would find his hiding place, and

  each time there was a whine from a weapon being fired he could feel his

  body pull in on itself as if anticipating the burning pain that would

  precede death from disruptor fire.

  He heard the thud of running feet, and he looked up to see

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  Donovan racing across the open center of the camp heading for new cover.

  There was a streak of red-tinged energy from somewhere up the cliff, and

  Donovan tumbled to the ground. His forward momentum had carried him to

  within feet of Maslin's hiding place. The composer crawled out and, grabbing

  the officer by the shoulder, he tried to pull him back behind the tent.

  Donovan rolled ponderously onto his back, his hand flopping uselessly in the

  sand, and Maslin stared into the burned and bloody mass that had been a

  face. Turning aside, he vomited into the sand and, wrapping his arms around

  himself, he sat back on his heels and shook. The 1hygetian gave a whine of

  despair, and began to dig out a hole beneath the edge of the tent. This

  accomplished, it huddled in the hole with just its eyes peering out between

  the bottom of the tent and the sand.

  A whine of fire brought Maslin back to his surroundings, and he scurried

  back behind the tent. He then peered out, noticing the phaser that lay

  where it had fallen from Donovan's hand. It was a scant three feet away,

  and he decided to risk it. Dropping down onto his belly he crawled on knees

  and elbows out to the phaser and, grabbing it, went hauling back into

  cover.

  As he inspected the weapon, familiarizing himself with its operation, he

  wondered where in all this madness Uhura had gotten to? He pictured her

  killed, like Donovan, and his chest was squeezed with a pain so sharp that

  for a moment he thought he was suffering from a heart attack.

  In his youth he, had done some hunting at his family's cabin in the

  Adirondacks, and he found that the old reflexes still held. Lying prone on

  the ground, he steadied the phaser on his left forearm, and waited

  patiently. He saw a flicker of movement at the base of one cliff, and

  sighting carefully he pulled off a shot. There was a wad, and the running

  figure dropped. Smiling viciously he thought, That's for Donovan, and for

  the cub you killed. Wish Uhura could have seen that, he ruminated as he

  waited for another target to present itself.

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  That would have shut her up about how I lack the training to look out for

  myself.

  Back in the Klingon camp Kali struggled in her bonds where she sat tied to

  the center pole of her tent. She felt the rope rasp harshly across the skin

  of her wrists, but it didn't give in the least. An hour ago ten more men

  had transported down to the camp, and she had overheard Karsul order the

  now-augmented landing party to attack and destroy the humans. She had been

  terrified that he would order her back to the ship and, not wanting that to

  happen, and also wishing to warn the humans, she had tried to slip out of

  camp. Quarag had caught her before she had reached the bottom of the hill,

  and he had tied her in her tent.

  Now, off in the distance, she could hear the whine of weapons being fired,


  and she redoubled her efforts to work free. Five minutes later she was

  exhausted and no closer to freedom, and all she could feel was the warm

  trickle of blood over her abused hands. She looked desperately about the

  tent, and spotted her pack. She had a blade stored in there, if she could

  only manage to reach it.

  Sucking in a deep breath she quieted her mind, steadied her nerves and then

  gave a quick heave. The pole swayed, but held. Three tries later she

  managed to bring it down, and with it the entire tent. She lay under the

  suffocating folds of material and tried to get her bearings, then propelled

  herself across the floor by means of small pushes with her bound feet.

  Ten minutes later she was free, and came climbing out from under the fallen

  tent. Quarag had taken her disruptor, and a quick search failed to produce

  an extra. Grumbling, she tore a long piece of fine wire out of one of the

  geocorders, and jerked it experimentally several times between her hands.

  Since she had failed to find a weapon here she would simply have to make

  one, she thought with a predatory little smile, and she slipped off toward

  the sound of the fighting.

  She ran swiftly toward the human camp without bothering

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  to use cover. She assumed that Karsul's men would have all their attention

  centered on the humans, and never suspect an assault from the rear. She

  reached the left outcropping of rock that formed one arm of the sheltering

  cove in winch the humans were camped, and here she became a good deal more

  covert. She didn't want to go stumbling blindly into one of the men she had

  come to hunt.

  Taking cover she listened, trying to pinpoint the location of one of the

  attackers from the sound of his disruptor fire. There seemed to be someone

  a scant thirty yards from her shchering rock. Holding her breath she peered

  over the top of the boulder, and spotted the head and burly shoulders of

  one of the new arrivals. Pulling back down she slipped wraithlike from rock

  to rock until she was directly behind her quarry.

  From this proximity she could hear his heavy breathing, and an occasional

  muttered curse as a bolt of phaser fire came uncomfortably close. She

  tested the wire between her hands, and was suddenly assailed by doubt. She

  was about to kill one of her own kind, a comrade in arms. And why? Ib save

  a group of Earthers who were her traditional enemies. She hugged her arms

  about her body, back pressed against the rough surface of the rocks, and

  tried to decide what to do. She wished Kor were here to advise her.

  The thought of her husband steadied her, and she remembered how days ago

  she had decided if it were a choice between Kor and the Empire she would

  take Kor. It seemed now that that choice had come upon her. It was apparent

  that Kor was no longer in command of his ships, and if he were taken he

  would be killed. As for herself ... her fate was far less enviable. She

  would end up as chattel to the man who had murdered her husband.

  Her jaw tightened with determination and, keeping her back against the

  rocks, she slipped up behind her prey. The soft sand muffled any sound from

  her footfalls, and the man was dead before he knew he had been attacked.

  Kali calmly 201

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  removed her garrot from the man's throat and, picking up his fallen

  disruptor, brushed the clinging sand from its barrel. She then settled down

  to look for targets.

  There was a flash of black and silver from the rocks to her right, and she

  quietly aimed and blew away his head. Two more fell to her merciless fire

  before the remaining Klingons realized that they were under attack from the

  rear.

  Down in the camp Spock also realized that something had changed. There was

  still the whine of disruptor fire from the cliffs, but none of it was being

  directed into the camp. Instead the Klingons seemed to be battling with

  some unknown assailant.

  "What the hell's going on?" McCoy asked as he cautiously lifted his head

  from the protection of his arms.

  "I'm not certain, Doctor, but the Klingons appear to be under attack."

  "Well of c ourse they're under attack, Spock," McCoy said in exasperation.

  "What do you think we've been doing for the past fifteen minutes?"

  Spock's lips narrowed into a thin line. "Try not to be more obtuse than

  usual, Doctor. The Khngons are firing behind them. 17

  "But who could it be? Taygetians?"

  "Highly unlikely. If the Singers won't protect themselves why should they

  protect us?"

  "Good point. 11

  "At any rate we have no more time to debate the issue. This would seem an

  opportune time for an assault," the Vulcan said, pulling out his

  communicator. "Mr. Ragsdale."

  "Aye, sir," the security chiefs voice came back over the communicator.

  "What is your situation?"

  "I'm down in good cover. Yeoman Chou is with me."

  "Excellent. What of Mr. Brentano?"

  "I saw him go down several minutes ago." 202

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  Spock nodded and, switching frequency, signaled Uhura. "lAeutenant?"

  "Here, sir."

  "Is Mr. Maslin with you?"

  "No, and I don't know where he is." Her voice was ragged with worry.

  "Is any one else with you?"

  "No, sir, I'm alone."

  "Well ready yourself, we're going to charge the Cliffs."

  yes, Sir. 19

  "And what about me, Spock?" McCoy asked.

  "You have no weapon, and I would prefer that you waited here. Also, I would

  like to have your services available to tend any of us who might be hit."

  "First time,you've ever expressed any confidence in my abilities."

  "You are, one is forced to admit, Doctor, better than nothing.99

  "numks, what a vote of confidence. I hope you do get shot so I can make you

  eat those words," McCoy muttered, but W blue eyes were dark with worry.

  Spock tried unsuccessfully to raise Donovan, and finally decided with

  regret that the young man had been hit. He knew Maslin carried no

  communicator so he put the composer out of his mind for the moment.

  Cautiously lifting his head, he eyed the cliffi, and settled upon a plan of

  attack. In a few quick words he informed everyone of their targets, and

  then dropped back to wait until there was a particularly vicious barrage of

  fire, none of which came into the camp.

  "Nowl" he ordered, and they all exploded from their places of cover heading

  for the clifis.

  Spock saw Maslin come charging out from behind a tent, a phaser clutched in

  his hand. "Back!" he shouted. "Go back!" but Mashn kept running.

  Uhura suddenly glanced back, and saw the composer.

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  Spook wondered bitterly if she were going to break discipline and go back

  after her lover, but she once more lived up to his high estimation of her

  abilities. She paused, made a quick adjustment to her phaser, and fired a

  quick stunning burst at Maslin. He went down like a rag doll, and Spook

  nodded in satisfaction and continued his sprint for the cliff.

  They
were beginning to take a little fire as the Klingons realized their

  danger, but with that withering fire from their backs they were unable to

  make a concentrated effort to stop the humans. Spook saw four more of the

  Klingons fall as his people opened fire, and that seemed to break their

  morale. There was a concentrated rush for the beach as the five remaining

  Klingons tried to escape the deadly crossfire. One more fell, victim to the

  humans' unknown benefactor, and Yeoman Chou went down clutching her leg as

  a last random shot from the Klingons managed to hit.

  Lieutenant Uhura hurried to the other woman, and Spook saw a small figure

  rise out of the rocks. Shading his eyes against the glare of the sun on the

  crystal cliffs Spook recognized Kali. He waved, and she came leaping like

  a goat down the rock wall to join him.

  "Thank you for your timely help," he said formally. "It would have gone

  badly for us if you hadn't intervened."

  "My pleasure."

  The Vulcan frowned, and glanced about. "How many did we kill?"

  "Ten, I think."

  "But there were only five---'

  "In our landing party," she interrupted. "Yes, that's right, but some

  reinforcements arrived a few hours ago."

  "And the Enterprise is currently under attack," Spook murmured as he began

  to assemble the entire picture.

  "4 think we can safely assume that my husband is no longer in command, and

  that the truce is off."

  "Unfortunately I must concur."

  Brentano and Ragsdale gathered Chou up in a fireman's

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  carry, and they headed back to camp. McCoy was bent over Maslin, running his

  tricorder over the composer's limp body.

  "Is he all right?" Uhura demanded, rushing oyer to his side.

  "Yeah, the stun didn't do him any real harm, but I'm not happy with these

  other readings."

  "'Me disease?"

  "Yes, it's on the rise again. Spock, help me get him into his tent."

  After Maslin was safely ensconced in bed, Spock moved to the large computer

  that had been tied into the synthesizer, and began making adjustments.

  "What are you doing, Mr. Spock?" Uhura asked, having been shooed away by

  McCoy.