Preface

Captain James T. Kirk hit the tree with an audible crack. He groaned with pain as he tried to stand, but his leg collapsed under him, broken. As Kirk lay in the deep underbrush, he took stock of his situation. His leg was obviously broken. His clothes were soaked in humidity, sweat, and blood. He reached around to his back, ignoring the sharp pain in his ribs, and felt a deep gash that ran from his lower back to his left shoulder. Kirk pulled himself upright to sit at the foot of the tree, tuning out the protests of every muscle and bone in his body. He could not evade the truth: there was a very good possibility that he was completely and utterly alone in unfamiliar territory, surrounded by savage adversaries. There was no way out.

A crack nearby alerted him to the approaching figure. Kirk suddenly felt cold, despite the intense heat. He forced himself to raise his head and look into the merciless eyes of the assassin.