Star Trek #97: In the Name of Honor

by Dayton Ward

  “Spock to Scott. We have detected the activation of the torpedo. Ship’s sensors have determined that five minutes and thirty-six seconds remain before it detonates. Move clear immediately for transport to the Enterprise .”

  Scotty exchanged looks with K’vyr. Both engineers knew that if the torpedo detonated while still attached to the hull, the damage to the Terthos would be considerable, even assuming the ship’s antimatter containment system survived the blast.

  “We are almost finished,” K’vyr said, continuing to work.

  That was good enough for Scotty.

  “Mr. Spock, evacuate the ship’s secondary hull sections. We’re going to keep working.”

  “I find that course of action ill-advised, Mr. Scott.”

  “Yer tellin’ me, but I dinna spend all that time helpin’ to repair this ship to see it get blown apart. We’ve got five minutes, and I intend to use ’em. Have the tractor beam stand by and the transporter room ready to lock onto us. It’s gonna be mighty close.”

  There was several seconds of communications silence as the two engineers continued to guide their cutting torches, and Scotty spent that time willing the metal of the hull to part faster.

  “Agreed,” Spock finally replied. “However, I suggest you work quickly. It would be most unfortunate if I were forced to explain your loss to the captain.”

  At the science station on the Enterprise bridge, Spock called up the sensor readings of the torpedo still attached to the Terthos ’s hull. A scan of the weapon’s interior showed one heavily shielded area. Given more time, he might be able to find a way to penetrate the shielding with sensors. Such a task would undoubtedly take more than the four minutes and fourteen seconds remaining until detonation.

  “Sir,” Lieutenant Clev called out from the communications station. “Captain K’tran has sent a message from the Terthos. He reports that Lieutenant Ag’hel is proving to be uncooperative in providing information to disarm the torpedo.”

  Spock had expected nothing else. As a seasoned covert operative, Ag’hel would no doubt possess the skills needed to insure she didn’t reveal any useful information in the time remaining to them.

  He heard the hiss of turbolift doors behind him and turned to see Chekov and Ambassador Joquel step onto the bridge. Spock noted the ambassador’s concerned expression, whereas Chekov simply looked tired.

  “Lieutenant Lorta and Ambassador Kaljagh are still on the starbase, sir,” Chekov said to Spock. “The ambassador has been remanded to station security for the time being until the matter can be investigated fully. Admiral LeGere sends his regards.”

  Joquel stepped from the turbolift alcove. “I intend to voice my support for Kaljagh. The accomplishments he helped bring about should not be overshadowed by his unfortunate involvement in this affair, considering how he was coerced.”

  Spock nodded in agreement. Having reviewed the draft versions of the treaty that Joquel and Kaljagh had drawn up, it was obvious that the Klingon ambassador had been committed to the peace process, despite the role he had played in the acts of sabotage. He had no doubt that Joquel could convince any Federation inquiry board of Kaljagh’s contributions.

  But now, Spock had more pressing concerns.

  Joquel seemed to sense this as well. “Captain, have you had any luck deactivating the torpedo?”

  “No, Ambassador,” Spock replied. “Given the time restraints, our only option is to trust in the expertise of Mr. Scott and the Terthos ’s engineer.”

  The turbolift doors opened again, this time admitting McCoy onto the bridge. From Spock’s observation, the doctor appeared to be his usual agitated self, a theory confirmed when McCoy actually spoke.

  “I just heard that Scotty went outside in a spacesuit to pry that torpedo off that ship’s hull. Whose idiotic idea was that?”

  “That would be Mr. Scott,” Spock replied.

  McCoy was anything but pleased at the confirmation. “Did anyone bother to tell him that the damned thing might go off?”

  “He is aware of the risks, Doctor. Neverthless, he presents us with our only viable option for dealing with the current situation.” Spock knew that McCoy was only voicing concern for his friend, but emotionalism could not be allowed to cloud the issue. Time was short, and the dilemma they faced was fast approaching critical.

  Looking to one of the bridge’s chronometers, Spock saw that only two minutes and eight seconds remained until detonation.

  * * *

  Almost there.

  Starting at a point near the head of the torpedo and moving in opposite directions, Scotty and K’vyr had begun cutting out one side of a crude rectangle. They worked to join up again at the opposite end of the weapon, and Scotty could see that only a few meters separated them now.

  Scotty checked his tricorder. “One minute, twentyseven seconds left. How are you coming, lad?”

  K’vyr replied without looking up. “It will take us nearly a minute to complete the cutting,” he said even as he continued to work.

  Damn! Scotty knew that even if he and K’vyr could finish cutting the section of hull plating free, the Enterprise still had to get it away from the ship before the torpedo detonated. At this proximity, the explosion could still do tremendous damage to the Terthos, whose shields could not be raised until the tractor beam pulled the weapon far enough away.

  They weren’t going to make it, not by a long shot.

  Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned his head to see the Enterprise moving in their direction. Already less than two hundred kilometers away, he judged, the mighty starship was closing the distance rapidly. Why would Spock move the ship so close?

  Of course! He meant to use the Enterprise ’s shields to protect the Terthos in case they were unable to move the torpedo outside the Klingon ship’s own shield perimeter.

  “Bless ye, Spock. I knew I could count on you.”

  Spock replied, “You will need to move clear before we can engage the beam. Forty-five seconds remain until detonation. Stand by to be transported aboard.”

  Scotty looked down at the hull and saw that less than two meters remained to be cut. There was no possibility of them finishing the job in the time left to them.

  “That’ll have to do, lad. We’ve got to get clear.” Scotty guessed that the Enterprise had moved to between fifty and sixty kilometers away. With full power to her shields he was sure the ship would be able to withstand the brunt of the explosion.

  To his credit, K’vyr had not let even the approach of the Enterprise distract him from his task. With his torch still slicing into the heavy hull plating, he said, “At this range, your ship’s tractor beam will have to be calibrated precisely to avoid further damage to the surrounding hull or the interior compartment. Every centimeter we cut out of the way will help them.”

  Though he could almost hear the seconds ticking away in his head now, Scotty knew the Klingon was right. If the situation were reversed, he’d fight just as hard to save the Enterprise.

  “Have your ship engage its beam,” K’vyr said, still guiding his torch across the hull.

  Scotty relayed the order and seconds later he felt the power of the beam as it latched on to the partially severed section of hull plating, its warm gold hue enveloping the area he and K’vyr had cut out. Though the sound didn’t travel to him, of course, the engineer imagined he could hear metal protesting as it was pulled away by the power of the starship. Spock was obviously holding back the full strength of the beam out of consideration for the two engineers’ fragile bodies as well as the potential harm the beam could cause to the Terthos herself.

  Nevertheless Scotty still saw the partially severed section of plating move, beginning to wrench itself from the hull. K’vyr continued to cut, slowly freeing the section centimeter by precious centimeter.

  It was all taking too long.

  “Spock, increase power,” Scotty called into his helmet communicator. Reaching out to grab K’vyr’s arm, he said to the K
lingon, “We’re outa time. Let the Enterprise take it from here.”

  The engineers scrambled clear, moving as fast as their bulky suits and magnetized boots would let them. Behind him, Scotty could almost feel the Enterprise ’s tractor beam increase its pull on the nearly severed hull section. He turned in time to see the hull plate and the torpedo attached to it tear free, enveloped in the beam’s unyielding grip.

  All that remained now was for the tractor beam to pull the explosive beyond the Klingon ship’s defensive perimeter so the Terthos could raise her own shields. Did they have enough time for that? Scotty looked down at the tricorder still strapped to his forearm.

  Five seconds.

  “Enterprise! Beam us . . .”

  “. . . aboard!”

  No sooner had the transporter room solidified around him than Scotty felt the telltale vibration in the deck. It wasn’t much, hardly a shudder, but the engineer had felt the Enterprise deck move beneath his feet enough times over the years to know when an explosion had occurred outside the ship. The fact that he had felt anything at all through the shields was evidence of just how close the detonation had been.

  “Transporter room,” Spock’s voice called from the intercom. “Do you have them?”

  Behind the protective window that shielded the transporter console, the Tellarite manning the station replied, “Yes, sir. Captain Scott and Lieutenant K’vyr are safely aboard.”

  “Did we do it, Spock?” Scotty asked.

  “Affirmative. The torpedo detonated outside our shields. The Terthos was unable to raise her own screens in time, so we extended ours to protect her. No damage has been reported on either ship, Mr. Scott.”

  Only then did Scotty permit himself a sigh of relief even as he unfastened the latches on his suit’s helmet.

  “Well, it looks as though I haven’t run out of luck yet.”

  The engineers helped one another out of their environmental suits, after which Scotty allowed himself the luxury of sitting down on the transporter platform. He was just leaning his back against the bulkhead when the entrance to the room hissed open to admit Spock and Ambassador Joquel.

  “Gentlemen,” the ambassador said, “your actions today were truly exemplary. In addition to saving the Terthos, you added a final positive note to this peace conference. Your ability to work together despite our peoples’ ideological differences is worthy of emulation.”

  “We did all that, did we?” Scotty asked K’vyr.

  The Klingon nodded. “It appears so.”

  Exhaling audibly, Scotty wiped his brow and shook his head. “I am truly gettin’ too old for this type o’ nonsense.”

  “It doesn’t seem as though age has affected your ability,” K’vyr noted. “I think you should continue to perform your duties for as long as you are able.”

  “Agreed,” Spock added. “A most logical observation.”

  Joquel turned her attention to Spock. “Captain, there is still the matter of Captain Kirk. He’s still at risk in Klingon space. Is there anything we can do to help him?”

  Spock considered Kirk and Sulu and the new danger awaiting them. If what Kaljagh had told them was true, no longer could they only concern themselves with discovery in Klingon space and condemnation as spies. Now there were forces at work actively searching for them.

  “Our own efforts to launch a rescue mission would be hampered at best, Ambassador. Even in the unlikely event that we could secure permission to enter Klingon space, we do not know Captain Kirk’s present location. In light of this, I am afraid there is very little we ourselves can do at the moment.”

  For a brief moment, Spock was thankful that McCoy was not present to hear the hint of suppressed frustration that had almost escaped his lips.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  IT WASN’T THE FIRST TIME James Kirk had been hunted. He’d been pursued by a relentless Gorn and had engaged in the ultimate game of “cat and mouse” with an omnipotent adolescent who’d called himself Trelane. He’d been chased through the subterranean tunnels of Janus VI by a creature that consumed solid rock, and had been hounded by an entity at the center of the galaxy who’d had the supreme arrogance to pass itself off as God.

  And he’d been hunted by Klingons as well, but never like this. Never before had he found himself plunging headlong through the dense jungle of a remote planet, deep in the heart of enemy territory and with no way to contact anyone who could come to his aid. His beloved Enterprise and her crew, who had rescued him from mortal danger more times than he could remember, was days away at high warp. Even Koloth’s ship was out of reach, with orders to wait until it received a signal from the shuttle that had brought Kirk, Sulu, and Koloth to this all but forgotten world.

  Only now, Kirk hoped the Gal’tagh would pick up the signal being emitted from the shuttle’s distress beacon.

  Fighting the dying controls of the Klingon shuttle all the way to the ground, Sulu and Koloth had managed to land the mortally damaged vessel. With its flight stabilizers all but gone, the ship had been little more than a flying rock. Only Sulu’s consummate skill with what little control remained of the ship’s thrusters had enabled their fall to the jungle floor to be more guided descent than plummeting crash. Even so, the landing had been a hard one, throwing the occupants of the shuttle around the interior of the vessel.

  Everyone had suffered some form of laceration or bruising, but Ra Mhvlovi had faired worst of all. The Efrosian’s right leg was broken in two places, for all intents and purposes rendering him an invalid. A lightweight yet durable stretcher now bore his weight, and Sinak and Sulu were manning the stretcher at present. Kirk had ordered everyone to take turns carrying their injured comrade, twenty minutes per interval in order to conserve the group’s strength for as long as possible in the overpowering heat of the Pao’lan jungle. Sulu had already administered tri-ox compound to everyone to help them breathe in the thick air, as well as giving vitamin supplements to all of the Gagarin survivors. The vitamins couldn’t completely compensate for the generally weakened condition of the prisoners, but it might be enough to keep them going until the Gal’tagh returned.

  Koloth led the ragtag group through the jungle, a disruptor pistol in his right hand. Strapped to his back was the same bat’leth Kirk had seen the Klingon use to spar with Sulu back on the ship. If the heat bothered Koloth, he didn’t show it. In contrast, sweat ran freely down Kirk’s face and saturated the tunic he wore. With the sun just starting to rise, he knew the heat would get worse as the day wore on.

  Koloth turned to look over his shoulder at Kirk. “Any sign of them?”

  For what seemed like the hundredth time, Kirk checked his tricorder. Once again, the device revealed no indication of pursuit behind them. The fugitive group of prisoners and their would-be rescuers had a healthy head start, however.

  Despite the damage it had suffered during the rescue operation, the shuttle had still managed to travel nearly sixty kilometers before Sulu and Koloth had been forced to land. With the damage they had inflicted on the camp’s lone personnel shuttle and pool of ground-transport vehicles, it would take the Klingons at the prison a while to mount any kind of pursuit.

  “I wouldn’t count on that,” Garrovick said when the topic was broached. “Korax won’t stand being made a fool of on his own turf. He’ll come after us even if he has to crawl through the jungle on his hands and knees.”

  Koloth started at the name of the prison commander. “Korax,” he said, nodding his head as he drew the name out. “So this is where the Empire saw fit to banish him.”

  “You know him?” Kirk asked.

  Smiling, Koloth replied, “He was my first officer aboard the Gr’oth all those years ago when you and I met on that space station.” With a glint of mischief in his eye, he added, “I believe some of your men introduced themselves to Korax in the station’s bar.”

  Kirk groaned as he remembered the incident at station K-7. The bar fight between the Klingons and members of the Enterprise crew had n
ot gone over well with the Federation officials on the station. Kirk hadn’t been too thrilled about the altercation, either, and doubted he’d ever forget that day. He’d had to dress down a group of his officers as if they were a squad of raw cadets who’d failed a barracks inspection. Making matters worse was the fact that his chief engineer had started the whole thing!

  Kirk’s reverie was broken as he realized someone had moved up on his right side to walk along beside him. Looking up, he saw that it was Garrovick.

  “You have no idea how good it was to see you when we materialized on that transporter pad. I thought I was dreaming.”

  The Enterprise captain turned his head to get a better look at the younger man. The years of captivity had not been kind to him, Kirk noted as he studied Garrovick’s sunken cheekbones and eyes. His skin was pale and pasty, no doubt the result of all the time spent working in the underground mines. While he still had most of his teeth, years of improper diet and dental hygiene had taken their toll even against advanced Federation dentistry techniques. The lack of any facial or body hair only accentuated the fragility of his appearance. Kirk was awestruck that Garrovick and the others had survived as long as they had.

  Noticing Kirk’s glances, Garrovick said, “Don’t worry, it looks worse than it is. Aside from a few missing teeth and minor injuries, I’ve been lucky.”

  “You’ve done incredibly well to have survived this long, Stephen,” Kirk said.

  “I’ll be happy to tell you all about it when we get back.” A twinkle appeared in Garrovick’s eye. “I have several tall stories you might like to hear.”

  The familiar words rang in Kirk’s ears, reminding him of when Garrovick had been a young ensign aboard the Enterprise, fresh out of the Academy and with his entire life ahead of him. He was older now, a good portion of the wisdom he now possessed having come at an incredible price.

  “Klingon prisons are no picnic, from what I’ve been told,” Kirk said. “Especially for humans.”