Converted Star Fleet Raider Jade Queen, in orbit of Vulcan, Jan 2158
Lieutenant Frank McCoy reluctantly entered the Jade Queen's cargo hold. He suspected that Captain Donald Townsend's attempt to shuttle him and Micah Brack down to the surface had failed. His roommate Brack had already discussed the alternative with him. McCoy's feet were literally dragging as he cycled through the inner lock into the bay. His worst fears were realized as he saw Micah Brack and Commander Margaret Sadler standing besides two gray spheres. Each sphere could easily encompass a man. And that, McCoy gulped, was precisely what they were designed to do.
"Hullo Frank," Brack said. McCoy watched as Sadler moved away from Brack. He knew that the two were involved. Micah had called it casual sex. McCoy had little use for sex since the death of Eileen Thomas; too many unpleasant memories.
"Any luck on the cargo exchange?" he asked. McCoy wanted to put a hand behind his back so they wouldn't see him crossing his fingers.
"The pointies want are allowing only for orbital transfers," Commander Sadler answered. "I'd send you both down as a box of Denobulan sweet beans but we suspect that they are checking all ingoing cargo; if you are caught the jig is up."
"Which leaves us the option that I explained to you last week Frank," Brack interjected.
"It's three hundred kilometers straight down!" Frank exclaimed.
"It is not straight down," Brack countered. "We'll enter the thermosphere and slow to terminal velocity there." Micah patted one of the spheres. "These were built to be opaque to radar and subspace sensors. We'll start the descent and slow down in these. Once we get to sixty five thousand meters or so we'll jettison the cocoons and finish the descent just like any other parachute jump."
"It's three hundred kilometers straight down!" McCoy repeated emphatically. Frank had done many things during his naval career but suborbital skydiving had not been included in that list. He turned to Sadler. "Have we even located our," he paused in annoyance. They had been instructed to refer to Tara Gupta as their contact. "Our contact?" he asked at last. "We'll probably just land there and be arrested!" McCoy protested.
Actually he believed that Brack would land there. Franklin David McCoy would become a pulpy mess somewhere on the surface of the desert planet he believed. That was he thought after a long descent that would consist of him screaming in terror and wetting his pants. He became aware that Sadler was speaking.
"—contacted on the frequency that we were provided," she explained. "The person identifies herself as T'Les and says she represents the Syrranite movement. She has given us coordinates for your err…landing and told us that she knows the location of your contact there."
McCoy looked at her and blinked. "It is three hundred kilometers straight down!" He paused and added: "Sir."
Landing was an understatement if Frank had ever heard one. Brack had explained that after slowing, the fibrous cocoon would fall away, somewhere near Vulcan's mesosphere. It was up to them to control their descent from then on. McCoy didn't care what sphere they were up in: All he knew was that it was high up. Frank did not share Brack's confidence in the endeavor.
"I've done this before," Brack interjected. McCoy grew uncomfortable as several crewmen entered and started prepping the spheres.
"You never told me that Micah," Sadler interrupted. McCoy guessed that there was much that the long lived Brack had not told the commander.
"I wanted to try my hand at suborbital skydiving Margaret," Brack answered. "Just one of those things that we never discussed," he concluded.
Frank recalled Brack's relating to him a long list of things that he had done. McCoy got the feeling that the longer Micah had lived the more reckless he had gotten with his life. Frank supposed that not being able to be killed added an element to Brack's fascination with dangerous activities.
"I tell you what," McCoy said at last. "You go on ahead. I'll take the next car." McCoy knew that the cliché came from an ancient time. But his father had enjoyed using it and had explained to McCoy that he thought it had to do with trains.
An engineering technician rolled a large suitcase up to McCoy. The woman opened it to reveal a heavy spacesuit looking contrivance. Frank guessed from Brack's explanation that it was a suborbital diving rig. He found it hard to believe that the suit had its own built in system of braking and maneuvering thrusters. Brack had explained to him that in a proper dive he would never have to use any thrusters.
"You have your orders Frank," Brack snapped. "And I have…things to do." Both Frank and the commander gave the industrialist turned spy an appraising look. McCoy knew what it was that Brack wanted to do. He didn't want to think about that because the idea of these katra things made him question his sanity. Still, Brack could speak Vulcan with the best of them apparently. Rather it was because he had taken a course or had a dead Vulcan in his head Frank really didn't know. "Just follow my lead. I'll talk you down on the secure channel." The technician held the bulky suit out from McCoy to step into.
Frank sighed as he let the woman aide him. He supposed that his will to live had returned: Otherwise he would be anxious to get this suicidal fiasco started. He wondered what Eileen would think of him. Did his grandparents' religion really mean anything he wondered? Was Eileen in some paradise looking at him? Did she blame him for what happened?
"Please don't," he said quietly.
"All you alright sir?" the chief asked. She was about to settle his helmet on his collar piece when she had heard his muffled plea.
"Fine," he answered. "Let's get this party started." She stared blankly in return. "Put the damn helmet on me!" McCoy relented somewhat remembering his brevetted rank. "Please chief."
"Can you hear me Frank?" he heard Brack ask over his tiny helmet speakers.
"Loud and clear," McCoy answered. He allowed the chief to guide him towards the cocoon. "You better not die down there old man," McCoy warned Brack. "I can't speak a lick of pointie."
"I haven't died yet," Brack answered. McCoy knew that even if Sadler or the captain were listening in none of what he and Brack were discussing would seem abnormal. McCoy muted the channel as he heard Brack exchanging an intimate goodbye with the commander. Frank still had problems around happy couples. Too many memories of happy times with Eileen would confront him.
The chief shoved McCoy none too gently into the sphere. He was soon enclosed in total darkness. Panic started eating at him until he remembered to open his comm link. He immediately heard Brack's voice requesting his attention. Frank could hear the concern in Micah's voice. He replied; sheepishly admitting his radio mistake.
"Remember the instructions I gave you about this?" he heard Brack's voice ask.
"Some," McCoy answered. Truthfully he had guessed that they would shuttle down to the surface and that they would not have to resort to this extreme.
"Just remember the ride in the pod is going to be rough," Brack explained. McCoy closed his eyes tightly. He had the spacer's love of zero gravity but he had difficulty with random accelerations and high g forces. "Once it splits open you'll be about sixty five thousand meters up. You'll reach terminal velocity pretty quick in this atmosphere. You'll have to watch that you don't break the sound barrier on the way down. Remember what I told you: Use the wings built into the arms of your suit to control your speed. Lay off of the thrusters. I'll keep tabs on you as we descend."
Frank drew a deep breath. "Cain't say that I'm looking forward to this but if I screw anything up I won't have any worries anymore." His southern American accent became thick when things got tense.
"You'll do fine," Brack said reassuringly. Frank felt a hard jolt. He guessed that the crewmen were loading him into the airlock. He felt severe disorientation. McCoy knew that he was being rolled into the lock. He laughed when he thought that some people paid money for rides like the one he was about to go on.
"About two minutes, gentlemen," Captain Townsend's voice announced.
"What's the holovid on this flight?" Frank mumbled under his breath.
"We had a hot porno for you," the captain answered. "But we changed it to a spy thriller at the last minute." Townsend's tone was jocular but it took a serious turn. "You both need to get this right. We have the special weapons but I doubt we'll be in a position to employ them. This trip was mainly to get you two here. Make it worthwhile!" There was a short pause. "One minute twenty," the captain informed them. "Do you want a countdown?"
"That won't be necessary captain," Brack answered for both of them. "We'll do our best sir."
McCoy wondered what that might be. He was buoyed by the fact that his contact as they clandestinely referred to Gupta as was still alive. At least he hoped that was the case and it was not some Vulcan obfuscation. McCoy had serious doubts about what they could do. He wondered what Tara had accomplished. Frank tried to imagine the shy, somewhat clumsy Gupta in the role of agent provocateur. His revelries were interrupted by the feeling of sudden acceleration.
The breath was literally knocked out of McCoy. He recovered his wind seconds later only to find himself completely disoriented. His stomach lurched as the sensation of falling overtook him. Frank worried that he was going to have an embarrassing and nasty accident when acceleration hit him. The weight became awful to bear. Frank imagined that he could feel the skin of his cheeks being pulled back. Breathing was forced and painful. This seemed to go on forever. McCoy started grunting and straining; trying to force air into his lungs. Weightlessness returned.
Frank was near to panicking. He was in complete darkness gasping for his breath when his feet suddenly felt as if they dropped out from under him. McCoy gulped as weight hit him again. This time it seemed worse than before. It was brutal. Spots danced before the blackness that was the only thing that McCoy's eyes were taking in. McCoy knew that he was losing consciousness when the dreadful weight on his chest relented. He gasped waiting for the next jolt. The spots cleared before his eyes. He was weightless again. Frank guessed that the last maneuver had been shorter than the first. There was another sensation of weight. Then that faded to nothing and the world exploded before McCoy.
Where was he? Frank, experienced somewhat with weightlessness, turned slowly. The pieces of his cocoon were drifting away from him. He caught sight of the great red rim of the planet. He gasped when he looked down. Rather than the sense of terror he thought that he would feel he was astounded at his elation. He had every space explorer's sense of wonder at seeing a new world from orbit. But up until now that had always been on video or behind a pane of transparent aluminum. McCoy felt as if there was nothing between him and Vulcan. He knew that was true as his suit afforded him little protection compared to the hull of a starship.
"Watch your speed Frank," he heard Brack's warning over his helmet speakers. He glanced at the speed readout that was projected on the face plate of his helmet. His military training kicked in as Brack had told him it would. He had never skydived but he reviewed the things Micah had told him.
Frank stretched forth his arms. He didn't feel like he was falling any slower but his readout decreased in number. McCoy took in the harsh desert scene beneath him. Brack had planned for them to begin their entry on the day side then the landing along the terminator into night. Frank could actually see the darkness. It was as if he was stationary and night was a large curtain rushing toward him. McCoy stretched forth to slow and drew in his arms to speed up.
Lights of small cities were visible from the night side of the red planet. Frank looked down to see the mark of what must have been a great river. Several precise geometrical patterns were visible near the ancient river bed. Frank guessed that these were Vulcan cities as well. He shuddered when he thought that this planet had once been green and lush: Before its inhabitant's massive internecine struggle. Frank realized just how lightly earth had gotten off from man's brush with nuclear weapons. Frank stretched out again when his display told him that he was nearing the speed of sound.
Brack and Townsend had drilled him with the need for minimal communications, but he could not resist expressing his elation. "This is a blast!" he exclaimed.
He heard Brack, yet not Brack's odd high pitched laugh. He had discovered that it was an impression of a twentieth century television entertainer; one who had performed with his flamboyant red haired wife. The laughter died shortly. "Just don't enjoy it too much. Check your altimeter."
McCoy looked at the reading. He was surprised to see that he had fallen almost forty thousand meters. He grew concerned when he realized how badly his sense of time had become distorted. Still; he knew that he had time. The darkening ground seemed unreal to him. His sense of jubilation faded. Brack warned him that it was time for him to use his first parachute.
McCoy watched his helmet display. He bit into a soft mouthpiece that was built into the helmet. He reached over and touched the control pad on his left gauntlet. When Frank regained his senses from the force of the braking chute he realized that without the mouthpiece he probably would have bitten his tongue out of his head. McCoy looked up into the Vulcan twilight to see the remains of the braking chute peeling away. His readout said that he was falling at a somewhat normal speed. The ground was still visible as distinct features but the darkness was growing. Brack warned him that they had about six thousand meters to go.
"You're moving away from me," Brack added.
"I'm trying for Christ sakes!" he snapped in return. Frank recalled Brack's thorough briefing concerning free flight. He was pleased that he had accomplished this much but putting Micah's words into practice was proving to be difficult. "Can you link up with me?"
A few seconds passed. "We're coming up on the final altitude." Brack's voice was full of tension. "My guess is that we'll be two to four miles away from one another. Plan on meeting me near the Kyphir Valley pass; it's on your map. You should land north of that."
"Miles!" Frank shouted into his mic. He tried to remember the ancient system of distance measuring. The last parachute opened. Not only had Frank drifted during his fall but he was dangerously close to a small city. He was somewhat more prepared for the opening shock this time but that did not lessen what he felt.
Despite his feeling of joy that he had experienced during the jump he vowed to never take up skydiving as a hobby. McCoy noted that the image representing Brack was well away from his own. He wondered if he would find his companion. Truthfully, he was relying on Micah's store of knowledge. He recalled Brack telling him about the time he had dropped into Mexico City during the Third World War. McCoy was startled when he saw the building rushing up to meet him. He closed his eyes remembering Micah's advice that he should just fall limp and collapse upon contact with the ground.
McCoy grunted as he hit the sand. He rolled once. He sat up cautiously. Frank was sitting in the sand behind a small oddly shaped building. He cautiously removed his helmet. The air was cool and dry. Frank remembered his only trip to the red planet: He had shuttled down to the capital for a brief tour. It had been an oppressively hot day: Heat like he had never felt before nor encountered since that visit. He tried to get up; wondering why his legs did not work. He looked down to see them tangled in the mess of the parachute rigging. McCoy hit another stud on the gauntlet of his suit. The harness fell away from him. He then pulled a knife out of his belt and cut the cords that tangled around his legs.
Frank's military training kicked in: He methodically went about the business of removing his suit. He assembled his equipment; gathering the suit, helmet and parachute up; finally he stood up shakily. McCoy cinched up his vest and took his bearings. He was amazed that he had not attracted the attention of every Vulcan in the town. He started unrolling a lighted digital map when he realized that he was being watched. Frank whipped around and stood gaping.
A Vulcan child stood eyeing him. Frank was first taken by the unchild like look that the boy gave him. McCoy guessed that if it was an earth child he would be about seven or eight. He vaguely remembered that Vulcans aged about the same rate as did humans until they passed puberty. McCoy did a double take. Were there dogs on Vulcan?
No it was not a dog Frank concluded. It was a giant hamster. The animal crouched beside the Vulcan boy who was still staring impassively at him. The animal actually looked sort of appealing. Eileen would have called it cute. Now that he looked at it the boy's pet, for it was obviously so to McCoy, it looked less like a hamster and more like a stuffed bear; that was until it opened its mouth and growled at Frank. The twin fangs must have been at least ten centimeters long. McCoy gulped.
The child was speaking. McCoy remembered a few of Micah's attempts to teach him rudimentary spoken Vulcan. Frank knew that the child was asking him a question. Frank searched through the few alien words that he remembered. He finally settled upon something.
"Shhhh," he hissed as he held a finger up to his lips. Frank slinked away into the desert night.
Converted Star Fleet carrier Serendipity, in orbit of V'hAch'c, Jan 2158
The shuttle floated gracefully out of the massive carrier's shuttle bay. Augustus Kirk looked through the shuttle's transparent aluminum windows at the lush green world spread out beneath them. Doctor David Rand sat in the seat next to his. The Klingon Chang sat across from Captain Marissa Morgan who was piloting them down. Two solid looking ex Stellar Navy marines sat behind Kirk and Rand. Their red jerseys were covered by a harness of camouflage.
"I see you've both dressed for the occasion," Kirk said to the security men as he craned his neck around his seat. "From Stephen King to Edward Rice Burroughs," Kirk added.
"I hope they don't have snakes down there," one of the security troops answered. Kirk looked at the olive skinned young man; Hernandez if he remembered correctly. "I hate those things!" Hernandez exclaimed.
Kirk didn't care for them much himself. But as a farmer turned politician he understood that snakes tended to control pests. All he knew about V'hAch'c was that it was a jungle world. Chang hadn't been forthcoming about the planet's flora and fauna. The Klingon had issued a smug statement concerning the Klingon ability to adapt instead.
"Who knows," David Rand interjected. "It's a new world. That is what we used to be out here to explore."
"A snake is just another animal," Soval declared dryly. The Vulcan sat apart from them in the rear of the shuttle. "It is not logical to fear one creature over another. Once the animal's abilities are recognized it should be approached and handled with respect." Hernandez seemed unconvinced.
Kirk looked ahead to see the shuttle's transparent window glowing red along its outer edges. His stomach took a tumble when Morgan pulled the nose of the craft up. The shuttle's artificial gravity told Kirk's body that he was sitting perfectly level in the compartment. Augustus diverted his face from the window. He gulped and turned back to his friend Rand.
"What is the chance that we'll contract this thing?" he asked the doctor.
Rand sighed. "It is doubtful. But," David paused before continuing. "But I can't tell you why the Klingons got something. As I said earlier gene therapy is strictly a back alley thing on earth these days. I've served whiskey after hours but besides that I've never done anything illegal. I've been going over the database but the only thing I've discovered is how many variables that are involved."
"Five minutes until touchdown," Morgan announced from the pilot's seat. "We have clearance to a landing field outside of their main city."
"Your little black bag?" he asked the doctor, nodding to the small bag that Rand was holding between his feet.
David laughed. "I know it doesn't look professional but afford an old man his quirks. This bag has helped me save a life or two." Rand looked down.
Kirk leaned back and sipped at a tube of water. He was dressed in jeans, work boots and a light shirt. He had been thinking of meeting the Klingons in a formal suit but it occurred to him that the warriors had little use for the sharp dressed. They seemed to appreciate candor and functionality. The shuttle was quiet for the rest of the descent. Augustus sucked down another drink as Morgan cut the shuttle's artificial gravity web. The landing was so smooth that Kirk didn't realize they were on the ground until he looked out again.
Chang rose from the copilot's seat. He pulled the braided end of his long black hair so that it rested behind his back. He eyed the shuttle's occupants as he ran a hand over the haft of a short sword that sat beside a pistol holster on his belt. Kirk felt somewhat out of place as the Stellar Navy personnel and Chang prepared to go outside. Even his friend David checked through his small bag one last time. Kirk reached into the pocket of his cotton pants and put on a cap. He noticed Chang looking at him.
"Saint Louis Cardinals," he explained. Kirk guessed that Chang was curious about the logo on his cap.
"Ah," the Klingon youth replied. "I studied that game. The opposing members engage one another with large fiber bats; an honorable pursuit!"
"Right," Kirk replied slowly. The air turned into a fog where the cool air from the shuttle's interior mingled with the hot, humid air from outside. Morgan started organizing her shore party when a Klingon stepped through the fog.
"Chang," the swarthy looking being addressed their Klingon guide.
Chang peeled his lips back in a savage growl. "Kaluch, you are looking quite…human."
"What is the meaning of this?" Morgan asked.
Kirk watched as the human looking Klingon stared back at them. He quickly repeated Morgan's question in Klingon. The Klingon stared fiercely at him. Kirk repeated the question brusquely.
"You are the tools of Ma'aQ!" the Klingon spat. "You dare to come here?" Kirk watched as the Klingon turned around. The fog near the shuttle's hatch had cleared somewhat. "Bring the criminal!"
Rather than being brought into the shuttle a person was thrown bodily onto the deck of the shuttle. Kirk winced at the noise of the Klingon's impact with the metal deck. No; it was not a Klingon Kirk saw after another look. The poor unfortunate was a bloodied human male. Augustus took a deep breath. He recognized the man on the deck.
"Why," Morgan started letting the word hang in the air.
"That is Adrik Soong!" Hernandez exclaimed.
The man actually smiled through swollen bloodied lips much to Augustus' amazement. "Guilty as charged. You must be the rescue party?"
"This is the human who has inflicted this disease upon us!" Chang roared. The youth pulled a wicked looking knife out of a sheath. Morgan, the closest person to Chang kicked out at the youth's knife hand. The Klingon avoided her defensive move. Kirk heard a snapping sound and saw that the blade had two protruding spikes. Chang stabbed downward at Soong. Kaluch rushed forward and intercepted the death blow.
"I would kill him myself!" Kaluch roared. The two Klingons fought until Morgan ordered the security troops to restrain them. Kirk noticed other human looking Klingons standing outside of the shuttle's hatch watching the fight. "But he may know of a way to reverse this!" the Klingon added. He broke away from Hernandez. "You humans will work with this one," he said pointing down to Soong. "You will restore us and expose Ma'aQ's hand in this!"
"We've come to help," Kirk retorted. "We also want our people back. But I swear to you that we know nothing of what happened to you and your house."
"I'm glad someone is up on their language," Soong said as he cautiously stood up. Rand went to him and escorted him to a chair. "I don't have enough spit to make a full sentence in it."
"You are here now," Kaluch declared. "This pestilence threatens the empire. I, unlike Ma'aQ will not see the empire torn apart over this. I will have my answers human."
A beeping came from the control panel. Kirk remembered that the shuttle's communications' panel lay in that area. Morgan moved to the panel; ran her hands over the touch screen and acknowledged the call from Serendipity.
"Captain, several vessels entered orbit near our position," Major Lasuda's voice boomed out of the speaker grill. "I have followed your orders and maintained a defensive posture." It was apparent in the alien's tone just how little the Tellarite thought of a defensive position. "They have moved in and surrounded us."
"I don't understand your language," Kaluch declared. "But that is no doubt your crew informing you that we are in the superior position."
"We are here to help," Kirk protested. He now understood Morgan's earlier bravado when she had confronted the ships sent out by Ma'aQ. It seemed that these people needed a confrontation over every occasion.
"That may be Kirk," Kaluch answered. Augustus wondered how they had learned his name. The Klingon must have been able to read his facial expressions. "We know all about your ship, your crew and your supposed mission."
"The House of Kaluch is known for employing electronic devices to spy upon others," Chang informed them in English. The Klingon's voice was steeped in their version of disdain. Kirk knew that there was friction between the houses. He wondered how much of what was going on was a political ploy.
Smiley had explained Klingon honor in great detail, but the Vulcan seemed at a loss to explain to Kirk some Klingon activities. It was Kirk who had come to the conclusion that the alien warriors twisted their code much like the samurai of old Japan. Kirk supposed that any culture could rationalize any behavior. There was enough chicanery from human history to prove that.
"Very well," Morgan answered the Tellarite. "Maintain alert stations. Don't provoke anything but don't hesitate to defend my ship!"
"Let me guess," Morgan continued as she severed communications with Serendipity. "We either help them or else. This is growing tiresome." She looked at Soong. "Give me a straight answer: Did you doctor the DNA you sold these people?"
Kirk observed that the eccentric billionaire was looking a little better after Rand's ministrations. "I barely knew anything about Klingons! I was approached to obtain some augmented DNA. Apparently my reputation as a person who can get obtain things goes a long way—past earth."
Kirk thought that Soong was a little smaller than holovids had shown him. But Augustus supposed that was normal. Very few images of Soong were said to exist. But he engendered enough interest that his face and rather bulbous nose was recognized by many.
"Who approached you?" Kirk asked him directly. Morgan looked sharply at him.
"Who in the hell are you?" Soong asked. Kirk introduced himself along with the rest of the shuttle's party. Soong merely blinked at him in turn. "Like I told these turtle heads," Soong answered at last. "I was approached by a humanoid alien woman—green skinned. She made me an offer that I found…interesting."
"Green skinned?" Morgan asked.
Kirk was equally confused. He knew that some Vulcans had a slight olive cast to their skin. But he could not describe it as green. Could it be that Soong had encountered a Romulan he wondered. Kirk was about to ask that question when Soval stepped up to the group.
"An Orion," the Vulcan declared.
"I told that to these," Soong looked at the Klingons and sneered. "I got beaten for my trouble. I suppose you aren't interested in the truth either?"
"What's an Orion?" Kirk asked.
He thought that the Vulcan actually looked uncomfortable. "The High Command encountered them some time ago. As humans and Tellarites were only just starting to explore we did not see the need to share our information concerning the Orions." Kirk had come to know the Vulcan enough to tell that he was holding something back. Card games had a way of revealing the qualities of a man; or an alien in this case Kirk thought. He gave Soval an appraising look. "We were also…our crews are unfamiliar with the concept of…crime."
"What happened?" Morgan asked.
"The cruiser's crew was taken," Soval answered after awhile. "The captain managed to conceal herself and activate the self destruct mechanism. We suspect that the rest were sold into slavery. We sent a delegation under a flag of truce. The Orion delegation that boarded our cruiser turned out to be like…"
"Pirates," Morgan supplied.
"Concealed?" Chang spat. The Klingon turned to Kirk. "These are the people whose allegiance you fear? Even you pathetically weak humans should have conquered these Vulcans after you met them."
"We fear nothing," he retorted. Kirk turned to Soval. "Why would Orions want to do this; if he is telling the truth?"
"I am telling you the truth you fool!" Soong retorted. "The Orions wanted me to make the sale to these numbskulls." Soong sighed. "I guess I should have suspected something. But I thought that they had a run in with these Klingons. They aren't very friendly if you haven't taken notice. So it seemed reasonable that they wanted an intermediary."
"What was your payoff?" Morgan asked.
"They were to give me information on positrons," Soong answered.
"That's a fairy tale!" Hernandez spoke up. They all turned to the young security trooper. He looked nervously at his boots. "I mean someone besides me had to have read the Asimov stories?" he asked shyly.
They all looked around in confusion. Kirk was surprised at the voice that chimed in. "Isaac Asimov; a prolific twentieth century human writer whose tales encompassed fantastical notions of the future. The stories that I believe the crewman are referring to has to do with the creation and adventures thereof of thinking self aware machines. Their processors worked through the creative use of a fictional particle called a positron."
"Not all that fictional Mister Vulcan," Soong said. He eyed the Vulcan. "You look familiar: Weren't you a midfielder for the Vulcan soccer team?"
"I have never played soccer," Soval answered.
"What a surprise," Soong answered in a tone stepped with sarcasm. "But surely you know all about positrons."
"What does he mean Smiley?" Kirk asked.
"I do not know—," the Vulcan started.
"The Orions extracted the information before your captain blew up the ship." Soong winced as he folded his arms over his chest. "Apparently the Vulcan Science Academy has made some inroads with a new type of subatomic particle—something very much like one of Asimov's positrons."
"I am a diplomat and minister," Soval answered, "not a scientist. But it," the Vulcan paused a short time; "distresses me that you obtained information in that manner."
"The Orions did the dirty work," Soong answered. "I just happened to benefit from it."
"So you traded up augmented human DNA for this information," Kirk said impatiently.
Soong nodded. "I was the fall guy. I see that now. The experts would have told me if something like this could have happened. It had to be something instigated by the Orions."
"You'd like to prove that wouldn't you human?" Chang asked.
"Of course I would!" Soong spat. His right eye was visibly swelling shut despite Rand's ministrations. "We made the trade not far over your border." Soong was still defiant. "Besides; who are you guys to blame me? I didn't push the DNA on you. When I met your contact she was more than willing to accept what I had. I can't understand wanting to look human but the smell would be an improve--,"
The impact of Chang's closed fist sent Soong's head reeling to one side. Kirk grabbed the young Klingon's arms and stopped him from inflicting anymore harm onto the billionaire. Rand checked over his patient. Blood was dripping down Soong's mouth again. Kirk allowed the Klingon to shrug him off after he felt that the situation was calmed down. Kirk was old but he still tussled with some of the livestock on his farm. But he also knew he'd hurt later.
"You went through the Orions," Kirk said to Kaluch. He looked down and Soong and then gave Kaluch a synopsis of what Soong had said; minus the comments about Klingon body odor. "Didn't you think it possible that they had a hand in this?"
Kaluch gave Kirk a look, that had it been from a human he would have applied the word sneaky to it. "We were assured that the samples would be untouched until they got to us."
Kirk turned to Soong. He repeated what Kaluch had just told him. "Were they untouched?" he asked.
"Of course," Soong began. Kirk looked hard at him. "Well Miasa was there too to guard the containers."
"She was Orion?" Soval asked.
"Oh yes…quite," Soong leered at them for several seconds through his broken face.
"What does that mean?" Kirk asked. Given Soong's look he suspected that he already knew. But he waited nonetheless while Soval explained the sexual attraction of Orion females.
"It is quite apparent that this man could have distracted while the samples were taken," Soval concluded. "He does not appear to be a responsible steward for anyone's property."
"Speak for yourself," Soong retorted. "I," he paused visibly. "I had the samples in my sights all of the time."
"Then that makes you guilty," Chang concluded in a cold voice. "That would mean that this is an assault on the empire by you earthers and your minions."
"Could we find this Orion?" a voice asked. The group turned to Hernandez.
"What about it, Soong?" Kirk asked.
"It's over a week away," Soong answered. There was desperation in his eyes. "Miasa did say that it would be a month before she got a ride home. I was supposed to leave last week until the pirates of the Caribbean here decided to stick their ugly faces in--,"
"Kaluch will not allow you to leave," Chang interrupted. "It is time for your people to pay for what they have done."
Kirk translated the conversation for Kaluch. "If the Orions had anything to do with this maybe we can find them and discover what it is." He told Morgan what he had said.
"My house comprises over a third of the Klingon Empire," Kaluch began. "I would do as Chang has said except that if there is any chance that you humans are telling the truth…"
"What is the chance that this," Chang paused. Kirk wondered just how steeped in Shakespeare the Klingon youth was. It was apparent that he knew how to play to a human audience. "That this Orion—if she exists which I doubt; is still on this planet?"
"Isn't averting a civil war worth the risk?" Kirk asked the youth.
"Your language is strange," Kaluch said. "But I can guess what you are saying. Your ship will stay; under our guns." Kirk hid his disappointment. This mission might not only fail: It might well lead to the Romulans gaining an ally. "But this Soong will lead us to this world. You, Kirk shall go aboard one of our vessels to act as interpreter." Kaluch turned to Chang. "And you, already the retrovirus is in you. You shall go as well. If this is Ma'aQ's doing you shall die right after these others."
Kirk told Morgan what Kaluch had said. "I'm not letting you go on one of their ships. At your--,"
"At my age captain?" he asked. "Things don't look good here. I was supposed to negotiate for our people on Rura Penthe: It looks like that isn't going well. Maybe we can track down what happened to the Klingons."
"Very well," Morgan said at last. She sighed.
Kirk was a man pushing eighty. He was keenly aware of his age. But he had a job here. Ten years ago he was a farmer, happy to retire to easier chores as his children took over more of the hard work. But retirement had left him feeling sour. He had sought a role in politics but that too had left him feeling empty. He had to make a difference. This was his chance
ShirKahr City, Vulcan, the earth year Jan 2158
Valdore passed through the halls of the government building unimpeded. He had come and gone enough times that he was recognized; recognized as one of Minister V'Las' guests and private advisors. The bureaucrats had no idea of who he really was. How different for a Romulan officer he thought: He would not be allowed in the Praetor's citadel without an armed escort.
V'Las' personal attendant stood and greeted Valdore. The admiral had learned to keep emotion out of his face. Srumera checked with V'Las via an intercom. After some fussy needless Vulcan protocol Valdore soon found himself admitted to V'Las' inner sanctum. The minister was looking at a wall display of his world. Valdore noticed that several areas were highlighted. He could guess why.
"Are they back to work yet?" he asked the minister.
V'Las stood with his back to the Romulan. "No admiral," the minister said at last. "Two more provinces are reporting that utilities and commerce have been halted. My people are staying home. Syrran's philosophy is poisoning them."
"Declaring martial law was not the best choice," Valdore replied. "You have exacerbated the situation. Syrran is no where to be found. Now you have a small fleet of alien ships in orbit."
"Trade vessels," V'Las answered dismissively. "The dock workers will not report for work. We'll need some of those goods to maintain our economy. Some of the captains have indicated that they will stay in orbit until the present situation is over."
"The present situation," Valdore started; putting a particularly harsh inflection on the last word, "is not a situation at all. Your people are in revolt."
"I believe that you exaggerate--,"
"I exaggerate nothing," Valdore interrupted. "But that should change when you announce the news of the Triple Alliance's incursion into Vulcan space."
V'Las had turned to speak to him, but after mention of the battle of Dol Amur the minister turned quickly back to his map. Valdore became concerned: The sensor log of the Vulcan cruiser could cause the citizenry of this world to rethink their passive rebellion. He wondered if something had happened to the information. Too many in the High Command were proving to have reservations about what they were being ordered to do. V'Las' next words substantiated that opinion:
"The sensor data was lost." Valdore wanted nothing more than to snap the minister's neck. But he restrained his fury as V'Las explained further: "The cruiser's second in command admitted to introducing a destructive program into the ship's database. The captain resigned over questions about why the Star Fleet taskforce was there. I still plan on announcing that they crossed the border."
Valdore's fists clenched and unclenched; he took a deep breath before speaking. "Announce what; that a Romulan base in Vulcan space was destroyed? Stiles doubtless has radar recordings and images of our ships."
V'Las' assistant Srumera called the minister to inform him that another guest had arrived. Valdore was glad that he had learned the art of keeping his emotions off of his face: The assistant soon came into the chamber with Senator Vrax in tow. As far as Srumera knew, Vrax was just another advisor to V'Las. The aide departed leaving the three alone.
"The city's power grid has been shut down," Vrax declared without ceremony.
"When did this happen?" V'Las asked. "I told the High Command to keep me informed about such matters."
"I spoke to a passerby in front of the ministry. It has apparently just happened. The technicians shut down the fusion plant and returned to their homes."
"You were discussing my exaggeration concerning a planetary revolt Minister V'Las?" Valdore asked.
"How can this happen, over one Vulcan?" V'Las asked at last. "My people seem bent on turning from our great path. I fail to see how these inferiors have done so much damage."
Valdore knew that the minister was referring to Gupta and his cohorts. Of all the miscalculations that the Tal Shiar had made, the one concerning earth's security agencies had been the worst. How many terran agents were loose on Vulcan Valdore did not know: But just one had damned his legions at every turn. These operatives were obviously the equal perhaps even superior to the Tal Shiar's agents. That was unthinkable for one of his race to admit to, but Valdore had survived too many campaigns to know how over confidence could kill.
"With my people sequestered in their communities now might be the time admiral," V'Las said.
"An open landing?" the senator asked.
Valdore had been thinking much the same thing. But events had turned against him. "It will be several khaidoa'v before I can assemble a legion that could effect a landing." Stiles had destroyed Valdore's ground force in her attack. He could siphon some troops from Gozai but those legions came from the dregs of Romulan society. Their brothers would not welcome such as those. The legions that had been stationed Dol Amur had been well disciplined soldiers, trained in Vulcan language and customs.
"The empire must wait a little longer for my people to accept the inevitable," V'Las replied. "It is our destiny to form a greater empire. The Vulcan people will march alongside the Rihannsu."
"We cannot wait," Valdore answered. "We are in a fight that no amount of pride or boast can win. The empire must have Vulcan on our side!"
"I shall make a public announcement soon," V'Las said. "The populace must see the illogic of this work cessation."
"We have little time minister," Valdore countered. He looked at his companion Vrax and then back at the minister. "You must make an impression upon our people."
"I believe that you must discover who in the High Command will follow your orders." Valdore knew that Reunification might well be brought about another way. The beginnings of an idea stirred in him.
"What do you mean admiral?" V'Las asked.
"If we came not as conquerors, which we would be seen as now," Valdore explained, "but rather as liberators."
"Liberators from what?" the minister asked.
"You have been to Romulus, V'Las," Valdore answered. "You know that the empire sometimes demands great sacrifices from its people. We did not achieve greatness by being meek."
Valdore knew that V'Las had been chosen for this role because of his intellectual prowess. He had been around his brothers now long enough to read their facial expressions. Valdore watched realization dawn on the minister's expressionless face.
"I do not desire to become a tyrant, admiral," V'Las said at last. "I do not," Valdore could see the minister struggling with the proposition; "know what would happen if I were to switch from a persuasive role to an authoritarian one."
"Vulcans would question your logic," Valdore answered. "But as long as you retained a hold through the High Command and the Syrranites maintain a pacifist stance they would have no recourse."
"We don't have the weapons necessary to attack our population," V'Las countered. Valdore could see that the minister was finding the idea difficult to deal with.
"Now you surprise me V'Las," Valdore said. "Vulcans don't lie."
"I am not lying," the minister retorted.
Valdore gave Vrax a conspiratorial look. He decided that two could persuade better than one. V'Las was visibly resistant to Valdore's idea. But the admiral needed the minister alive. He waited while the senator took up the argument.
"You kept the weapons cache from the V'Lucha Mountain archeological site, minister," Vrax said at last.
"Those were only to be used if the Andorians were in a position to invade Vulcan." V'Las took a seat behind his desk. He proceeded to examine his computer screen. "I shall consider what you have asked admiral." It was a dismissive gesture.
"You ordered the High Command to transfer a nerve agent into orbit-to-ground warheads, minister," Vrax continued. Valdore observed V'Las' silence. "An Andorian landing on Vulcan implies that the High Command would have no ships or platforms left from which to launch those devices. Isn't that logical V'Las?"
"Which meant that you had other plans for them," Valdore added.
"You can be a tyrant or you can be relieved as minister, V'Las," Vrax interjected. "Even your cronies will rebuke you when they discover that you intended to use those weapons against the Andorian base on T'Lilz."
"How did you--," V'Las asked sharply. Valdore wanted to laugh when he saw the emotional mask drop; even if it was just for an instant.
"I disdain the Tal Shiar but I do not refuse their information." Valdore folded his arms over his chest.
"You attempt to trap me," V'Las replied at last. "But if you expose that information you will have no one to operate through in the ministry."
"My troops have secured the warheads," Valdore informed V'Las. "Once we expose your hand in this I'll order them launched against your most populous provinces. It will appear that you gave the orders minister. I shall then abandon you to the surviving population after my troops arrive. But there is an alternative."
"The murder of one Vulcan by another…" V'Las appeared beaten. He sat with his eyes looking at Valdore and Vrax but they appeared to Valdore to be unseeing. "You ask me to kill millions."
"One or two provinces that you choose," Vrax took up the explanation. Valdore was pleased to see that the senator had gleaned his plan. "Those where the Syrranite movement holds the most sway," Vrax continued.
"We will arrive and appear to topple your government as well as lending assistance to those who survive." Valdore spoke to the unmoving minister. "You can then go to Romulus in secret. You will live, Reunification will be a fact and I will conclude the war with the Triple Alliance."
"I'll be an exile," V'Las said. Valdore could hear the plea through the emotional control. "I'll never be able to return to Vulcan."
"You will have done your duty as Rihannsu," Vrax countered.
"There must be another way," V'Las said.
"You can choose a few million to die," Valdore answered; "or we shall kill tens of millions without discrimination." Valdore moved behind the desk to lay his hand upon V'Las' shoulder. He knew the Vulcan dislike for physical contact, but Valdore had commanded soldiers for many e'ayy'v. He knew when someone needed encouragement. "You have been to Romulus many times in your youth V'Las. I read your file. You wrote extensively about how you reasoned that the Vulcans needed the sense of Romulan duty and commitment to be whole. Now is the time for you to do your duty; for you to be whole."
"You may not even be in exile long, minister" Vrax interjected. "After Reunification when there is a new enlightenment you will be seen as the savior of your people."
"Minister?" he asked squeezing V'Las shoulder. Valdore sensed that V'Las was prepared to capitulate. He removed his hand.
"I shall need time to choose," V'Las hesitated, "to choose the targets. I suppose that you want me to declare Syrranites traitors?"
"Of course," Valdore replied. "You will challenge your people to return to their predestined path as the elder race. Many of your people believe that; even Soval harbored those sentiments."
"Perhaps with a compelling reason to be more persuasive you might even staunch the Syrranite rebellion. Use your logic minister. Ask your people why they are doing these things." Vrax looked at Valdore. The admiral could see the question in the senator's face. He bowed his head slightly in assent. "You have some time."
"Very little," Valdore added. He gave V'Las a timetable.
"I shall start planning now," V'Las answered.
"Remember Minister V'Las," Valdore said in a warning voice. "I have banished most of the Tal Shiar operatives that I could find. But I am using what they left in place. You are being watched. That too is part of being a Romulan citizen."
Valdore watched as resolved showed on the minister's face. But it was the resolve of someone forced to take a bitter medication. "I am Vulcan, admiral, but I am also Rihannsu. I will do my duty for the empire."
"I shall put the warheads back under your control then," Valdore answered. "Let me know when your trusted soldiers in the High Command are ready."
V'Las seemed somewhat relieved by that concession from Valdore. The three of them exchanged goodbyes. Valdore left with Vrax. They left the cool ministry building for the street beyond. It had been relatively empty when Valdore had arrived: Now it was deserted. The two Romulans made their way to their groundcar.
"You trust V'Las to do as you have bid?" the senator asked him after the two were seated and on their way back to the spaceport.
"Of course not," Valdore answered. "But he will do enough that blame will be assigned to him. That is why I conceded control of those weapons. Of course I have no intention of relinquishing control. But V'Las will think so; that is the important thing."
"He does not have the courage to do as you asked?" Vrax asked in reply. "His ethics will not allow him to slaughter his own people."
"Perhaps," Valdore explained. "But he harbored that gas to use on the Andorians: It is equally lethal to that race as well. He lied to his own people and broke one of their solemn edicts. It is not inconceivable that he will lie to us. But that is why I shall retain control. V'Las will be seen as the one responsible for unleashing the carnage. We will move in afterwards."
"You gave him little time to lie," Vrax said. "I know your situation: It will be difficult for you to assemble an effective occupation force in that time; especially as you are not using the legions at Gozai."
"It must be done," Valdore answered. "The time is not for V'Las: It is for our enemy. They will probe into Vulcan space again. Sooner or later there will be an encounter which will force things."
"How do you know this?" the senator asked.
Valdore sat back as the car's computer navigation system steered it efficiently through the capital's empty streets. He wondered how the empire had come to this pass. Things stood at an intersection. Valdore was fighting an effective holding action but he needed something more to win.
"Stiles will attack again," he said. "I know because I know my enemy: Forrest is more controlled. His task is to manage the Triple Alliance's military operations. But Stiles is like a thrai. She will not relent and with the time it takes messages to reach their command bases; she can be here. The Syrranites have so ingratiated themselves into this society I believe that rather than fight Stiles some High Command cruisers would actually join her."
"As unpleasant as your plan will be for these people," Vrax started. The car sped past a Vulcan family going about their business. "I believe it is for the best. But what of V'Las; he could denounce us rather than go into exile."
"Do you really think that I shall allow the minister to go into exile? Once V'Las has served his purpose I shall kill him." Valdore looked at his companion. Old habits died hard. He finally said what was on his mind. "It is for the best, you are right my friend. That was the plan all along."
"What?" the senator was clearly astonished.
"I managed to decipher Talex's files," Valdore answered. "The Tal Shiar's hold is weakening at home. A defeat here may well redefine our society. Talex was under orders to exterminate our brothers here if we were defeated. The Tal Shiar would then blame the act on the Triple Alliance; as a last impetus so that our people will fight on."
"The V'Lucha Mountain site was discovered through them?" the senator asked. Valdore was impressed with his shrewdness.
"Our brothers and sisters are of course interested in their past," Valdore explained. "But their only interest in weapons is to find them and destroy them. The Tal Shiar was only too delighted to convince V'Las, without his knowledge of course, that the gas could be used against the Andorians."
"There is little time," Vrax said thoughtfully.
Valdore fell silent. He agreed. The instincts that had guided him through many battles were active. He knew that things were approaching a climax of sorts here. Valdore cursed the Tal Shiar. But it was individual Romulans who had looked the other way that had allowed them to be in this position of power. For too long too many concessions had been made to them. Now the empire stood upon the brink that the Tal Shiar had pushed it too. Valdore suddenly old: He felt that he was the only Romulan pushing his people back from the abyss.
Imperial Guard cruiser Kumari, on the Andorian-Vulcan border, earth year Jan 2158
"Is the trail still strong?" Captain Gordon Albright asked the only other human on the bridge of the Andorian cruiser.
"Still there," Chief Ezra Crowder announced. Kumari was following the thin trail of radioactive plasma from a damaged ship. He pulled his head back from his screen. Despite being adjusted for human eyes Albright knew that looking at the alien screen gave Crowder headaches. "It leads into that system," Crowder added; nodding at the tactical plot on the main viewscreen.
"Right on the border," Albright's Andorian first officer Saln declared. His tone was dark.
"Any notion on whose disaster beacon that was?" he asked the Andorian.
"It was a brief repetitive beacon," Saln explained. "Anyone could be using it; especially during a time of war."
"It could be pirates!" the gunnery officer Zenna declared. The Andorian woman had taken a liking to Gordon much to his chagrin. He was not uninterested himself, but Albright held human values concerning the role of a commander. Albright did not want to known as the human captain who had boffed all of his Andorian crewmen. Andorian values were another thing however. He knew that they wondered why he had not taken the lieutenant up on her offers.
"The soulless ones have never tried to lure our ships in using distress signals," Saln said. Albright chuckled at the Andorian slang for a Vulcan. He studied the Andorian plot. He converted the time in his head: The Kumari would be in the system for about one hour; that did not include time for a rescue. "But the pirates used that tactic against your people sir."
"Yes they did," Albright agreed. "They have not done that in awhile." Romulan ships regularly entered Vulcan space. This was so close as to make little difference. So far no allied ship had ever given chase. "Any ships on radar?" he asked.
"Nothing captain," Crowder answered. Albright ordered a brief sensor look. The team on Mars had funneled out some tips that allowed allied ships to use sensors for limited periods of time. The tactical picture changed.
"There," the navigator Graz announced. They all looked at the screen which displayed two energy readings indicative of a warp driven ships. One was deep in the gravity well of one of the outer planets. Sensor readings revealed the world to be a gas giant. Another stronger reading was near to the first one.
Albright looked at Crowder. "It could be another ship in the atmosphere." The Alaskan native studied the readings before they winked out. "If it is then its power plant, be it fusion or mam, is deader than a door knell." This last in English caused puzzled looks and raised antennae.
"The Romulans might be up to their old habits," Albright stroked his chin while he considered the possibilities. "It might be interesting to turn their tactics back upon them." He came to a decision. "Alter course for that system; specifically the third moon you've identified by subspace sensors. Make your approach from a positive z-axis. We'll use that giant's other moons to screen our arrival." Albright gave the orders that set the Andorian craft on a new heading. He relaxed somewhat as his first officer approached his chair.
"This does not look Jewish," Saln told him in a soft tone. For some reason that Albright could not fathom his Andorian first had decided to learn terran English. Gordon thought that Saln was doing good, most of the time.
Gordon worked through his English idioms. "I believe you mean kosher," he corrected after some thought. His first officer did seem to find Gordon's native language useful for private conferences. "You're right of course," he answered in the same language. "But I believe that we need to investigate this. Our ships were caught because they didn't suspect what was happening." Albright was referring to the initial Romulan ambushes of the war. "We'll go in, but with the knowledge of what we might be up against. Who knows; this might be a birdie with a broken wing."
"That would change things if we knew the face of our enemy," Saln said, switching back to Andorian. The bridge crew looked around and then returned to their tasks. They all seemed satisfied that the issue had been resolved.
Albright studied the tactical display. A little less than an hour they would all know if Albright's instincts paid off. The other thing that was weighing on him was that the signal might well be from an unknown race. Humans and their allies had all set out to discover new worlds and new races. That had fallen by the wayside since the Romulans had shown up. But they were still explorers; Gordon no less of one. His monkey curiosity must be satisfied he supposed. He smiled slightly.
"It may be a new race," Saln said. Gordon sensed that he and the Andorian were thinking alike.
"We'll soon find out," Albright replied.
The Kumari's human captain rose and removed his jacket. Albright made it a point to inspect each and every crew station. The alien cruiser was in tip top shape. He was not surprised: Andorians tended to be sticklers for detail. Mistakes made upon the surface of their frigid world usually proved fatal. Albright supposed that carelessness had been weeded out over the long generations.
He gave only a cursory glance to Lieutenant Zenna's station. Albright knew that the Kumari's stock of missiles and anti-missile missiles was full. She gave him a longing gaze as he passed by. Despite the bridge's coolness and the fact that Gordon had removed his jacket he still felt a flush of heat. She was quite striking. Albright wondered if the humans of Zephram Cochrane's day could have foreseen not only cooperation among the races but more personal relations. Albright turned back to the tactical plot.
"Incoming communication," Decurion Hahn announced. Albright felt a chill return to him: They had undoubtedly been discovered. He nodded at the Andorian officer. The tactical picture on the viewscreen was replaced with a video transmission from a ship.
They all recognized the captain of what Albright guessed was one of the ships that he had made out to intercept. "Captain Albright," Captain Vanik started, "I do not believe that your fictional photon missiles will be needed this time. This is a purely Vulcan matter and this system is in dispute by both sides. I suggest that you withdraw."
Albright was angered by what he saw as the Vulcan's imperious manner. But although it was somewhat more advanced than a Stellar Navy vessel the Kumari could not stand long against a Vulcan cruiser. Gordon thought that he should consider himself lucky that Vanik had chosen not to engage them. He was about to respond when he saw that Hahn had printed out a document from his station. The communications' officer indicated that the video was only one way.
Albright took the paper and read it. He sighed inwardly. This situation had just gone from unknown, to dangerous. He stared at Vanik's image. Albright wondered how the peaceful Vulcans had come to this. An instructor at Albright's Canadian Forces Officer Training School had once told him that; like an iceberg there was probably much more to the Vulcans beneath their stern demeanors.
Albright tried to recall everything he knew about the Sh'Raan class of cruisers. "Captain Vanik, you can solve your internal strife; that much is true. But the L'Nira has taken on Denobulan refugees. I cannot allow you to destroy that ship."
He wondered why the T'Mir had even fired on the Surak class L'Nira. That did not seem logical for a logical Vulcan Albright thought. Rumors were rampant that the pointies were near to some sort of a civil war. Albright could not imagine that. But then again the desert planet had once been a verdant heavily forested paradise: Before the Vulcans last internal struggle. He had heard the dark whispers about how savage Vulcans had been. Could they return to that he wondered? That might make them as bad as Romulans.
"Once again, this is a Vulcan matter Captain Albright," Vanik answered calmly. "Major Hesada has acted most illogically. The Denobulans that you mentioned forfeited any neutrality when they stepped aboard L'Nira. It is most unfortunate."
Hahn handed Albright another text from Hesada. He read through it quickly. The news was not good. "Captain Vanik; it seems that your ship passed by a Romulan convoy. Yet you chose to proceed along your way."
"The High Command has ordered me to not interfere in the war between your peoples," Vanik answered calmly. Albright noted that the Vulcan had cut the visual part of his transmission. He could barely read the stoic Vulcan but now he had no visual clues whatsoever to act upon.
"Your government has forbidden Star Fleet any basing privileges in your space," Albright replied. The distance between Kumari and the moon had shrunk. Radar also showed that the T'Mir was leaving orbit; on an intercept course for Kumari. "I suppose you have no problem with Romulans using your space." There was an uncomfortable silence.
Albright put a hand over his mouth; the Andorian body language used for silence. The human slash across the throat had quite another meaning he had discovered. He was sure that is why Zenna had such an interest in him. Hahn dutifully severed voice communications with Vanik.
"It's a small galaxy after all," Albright said wistfully. He turned to his first. "Any recommendations?" he asked.
The Guard normally used groups of two or three heavy cruisers against single Vulcan warships," Saln explained.
"Odd that he is using subspace sensors," Chief Crowder declared. "That could be the only way he seen us this far out."
"Apparently our Vulcan friends don't have the same dangers we face using our sensors," Albright concluded. He resumed his seat. "Load missiles and starbursts," he ordered as he pulled the Andorian restraining net over him.
Saln relayed the orders to Zenna who then confirmed that the action was complete. Albright studied the tactical display hoping for some sort of a miracle in this match. The T'Mir would see his missiles and pick off the sublight devices with their particle weapons. His only hope was to move in and--what he asked? T'Mir's energy shields were far superior to allied hull plating. If he got close enough for a hit, the detonation of a nuclear warhead might wound the Vulcan ship: It would also be so close as too envelope Kumari.
He knew that the Sh'Raan class of cruisers tended to be ungainly around a gravity well. Otherwise L'Nira would be a heap of radioactive rubble. Albright needed to take advantage of what he had.
"Direct our first salvo at T'Mir," he instructed. "What do we have on the moon that we are approaching?" Albright reckoned that they had three minutes before they came within range of T'Mir's particle weapons. He listened while his first recited a litany of facts concerning the moon. The information had been gotten over forty earth years ago. He listened with half an ear until something Saln was saying got his attention.
"What was that?" he piped up and asked.
"Our researchers conjectured that the body had started its existence in the inner system," the Andorian primus replied. "Its geology includes tall mountain ranges and evidence of ice of some sort in the valleys. It was theorized that it started its life as a potentially habital planet for humanoids--,"
"Tall mountain ranges, eh?" he interrupted. "We have to get T'Mir down there with us." Albright knew that he was clutching at straws. Kumari was unique in that it was constructed to actually land on a planet; something most Stellar Navy starships could not do. "Chief Crowder, show me a representation of this moon in three dimensional relief."
"T'Mir is attempting to communicate with us again sir," Hahn interjected as Albright studied the computer generated images of the dead moon.
"Open a channel," Albright answered. Perhaps he could still talk his way out of this.
"Captain Albright, you were invited to withdraw," Vanik's voice announced out of the overhead speaker.
"The Denobulans are our allies, sir," Gordon answered. "I would be satisfied if you spared L'Nira long enough to allow those refugees to disembark." It pained Albright to have to offer that compromise. But Vanik was right: The matter, except for the presence of the Denobulans was a purely Vulcan affair. He had no more right to interfere than would a Vulcan ship to engage a Stellar Navy craft. Albright guessed that L'Nira's crew was sympathetic to the Syrranite cause.
"Your allies made their choices when they boarded a Syrranite held vessel," Vanik answered, confirming Albright's suspicions. Still there was the matter of the Vulcans seeming footsy with the Romulans. Had L'Nira got a peek at more than what they were letting on, he wondered. "This action of yours is illogical Captain Albright. All that will happen is that I shall order your vessel destroyed then return to the Syrranites."
"I think you'll find that a more difficult proposition then you suppose," Albright countered. It was all bravado, and he knew it. The Andorian data concerning the moon sped by on the lower section of the main viewer. Albright motioned for Crowder to stop that data stream. He took for granted that he was reading Andorian as if he had antennae of his own.
"Then we have nothing more to speak on human," Vanik responded. Hahn informed him that the channel had been cut on the Vulcan's end.
"Set missiles for proximity blasts and fire when ready," Albright instructed. "Graz; slow to one quarter impulse and steer toward the surface of the moon at these coordinates. Wait for my command." Albright pointed to a moving display on the navigator's control panel.
"Those detonations won't even be close to T'Mir," Saln said.
Albright nodded. "We don't have much time, first. Load an Azev missile in the tubes. Set it for a delayed explosion. I want it fired into the ice on that moon." Gordon pointed to the viewer as he gave his crew the timetable that he expected them to follow.
"Missiles away," Zenna stated calmly.
Albright watched the tactical display. First one missile track vanished followed by another. Gordon guessed that one of his weapons had been caught by Vulcan particle gun fire. Both the missiles and Kumari were now in the outermost range of T'Mir's guns. His guess was confirmed when Kumari's artificial gravity gave out briefly followed by a cascade of exploding panels and lights.
Albright checked the small computer screen next to his command chair. He knew that Kumari had suffered a direct hit. "Alter course now!" he exclaimed. Gordon could see that the hull plating had been about as effective as a piece of tissue.
"Headed for the surface, captain," Optio Graz reported.
"They're using subspace sensors let's do the same Chief Crowder," Albright said. He turned to Zenna. "Launch a spread of starbursts behind us. Continue firing at T'Mir."
Albright watched another salvo depart only to fall short of the Vulcan ship. Crowder's news was not good as the chief reported that T'Mir was operating at full power. Gordon looked at the innocuous reading that represented the Sh'Raan class ship. That glowing data presentation could well be his death he knew. The subspace sensors resolved some of what was happening. Albright watched as an energy spike contacted the shrapnel from a starburst. The spike continued on. Kumari shuttered. Desperate Andorian voices filled the comm system with a litany of damage reports. Gordon realized that he might have led this crew to their deaths. He felt no personal fear but rather a dreadful sense of failure.
"Descending into the valley," Graz reported.
"Fire Azev," Albright ordered. He felt nothing as the continent destroying super nuke left Kumari's tube.
"T'Mir is over us but is receding beneath the horizon sir!" Crowder exclaimed happily.
Albright was jarred as if from a physical blow as another particle beam hit the Andorian ship; his ship. "Don't celebrate just yet." He turned to his navigator. "Reduce to thrusters," Albright instructed. He gave Graz a speed. He knew that it was dangerous for the huge ship in the deep canyons of the airless moon. But the alternative was a blasted ship.
"Detonation," Saln reported. Gordon watched the subspace sensor display. The energy reading went off scale for a split second; then it obscured, as if a video presentation were out of focus.
"Switch to radar," he ordered quickly. "Start climbout and make for the extrapolated position of T'Mir."
"Damage control teams are reporting that the port flight pod is severely damaged," Saln reported. "It has been sealed off."
"Emerging over the horizon sir," Graz reported.
"Contact thirty degrees off the port bow!" Crowder roared out.
Albright had ordered the Azev detonated near what the Andorian probe data had showed to be a large meteor strike; a nickel iron meteor that was highly magnetic. Kumari's sensors had been blinded. He hoped that the sudden expulsion of magnetized iron ore particles and radioactivity had blinded the Vulcan. So far it appeared that he had been successful. Now what to do with that triumph he asked.
"Ready missiles," he started.
"Captain!" the gunnery officer exclaimed. "Primary and secondary tubes are damaged! The targeting computer is resetting."
"If they have those shields a missile hit would be ineffective," Saln advised. "They could also extrapolate our position sir."
"What about a slow moving impact?" Albright asked.
"The Imperial Guard analyzed such strategies," the Andorian answered. "The trouble is that their particle weapons destroyed any incoming mass before it could do any damage."
"Incoming mass?" he asked in reply. "You mean like an Imperial Guard heavy cruiser?" Albright looked around. All of the Andorians' antennae were standing erect. He realized what he sounded like, but he was out of ideas.
"I don't believe so sir," Primus Saln answered. A somewhat human looking grin appeared on his blue face.
"Graz, can you maneuver us to ram the port pod into that ship?" he asked the navigator. The Andorian replied grimly that he could. "Then set a course and engage." He turned back to Saln. "Issue small arms to everyone in a pressure suit. Have the engineering crews standing by with laser torches." Graz intruded with an expected contact time. Albright released his restraining netting and pulled his space suit out from the command chair's base. They had less than three minutes; that was unless Vanik picked them up and fired on them.
"You don't plan on boarding it yourself sir?" Saln asked. The Andorian had gleaned his plan.
"You'll be in command," Albright answered. His navy training kicked in. He went through the motions of climbing into the bulky suit, sealing up the major openings and checking its ancillary functions. The collision alert sounded. Gordon threw himself into the chair and cinched up the netting just in time. He felt as if a giant was squeezing his chest. As painful as the impact was Gordon was thankful: He knew that it delayed Saln's questioning of his decision. Artificial gravity resumed at a tolerable level. Gordon's advisory panel was blinking from a litany of damaged systems.
"I don't plan on being out of the fun, first," Albright declared as he released the netting. Besides he thought, if this harebrained idea failed he wanted to die in the attempt; not waiting expectantly on the bridge.
Saln seemed to be about to protest. Gordon watched as he relented. "The soulless ones will initiate a self destruct sequence. We've seen this before but the Guard has only tried boarding from shuttles. You may have time captain." He stood and issued an Andorian salute to Albright. "I've ordered the teams to start cutting into the T'Mir. Good hunting!"
The only thing missing was a cutlass, Albright thought. He swarmed aboard the Vulcan cruiser alongside his Andorian crew. A few of the humans assigned to Kumari were among the boarding party. Gordon wondered how far they would get before Vanik decided to activate T'Mir's self destruct. Kumari's pod was embedded just aft of the vessel's drive ring.
They had boarded through an airless, zero gravity space where the two ships were pushed together. From there Albright led part of his boarders as well as he could toward the Sh'Raan's bow. He knew that somewhere in that direction was T'Mir's command center. He had dispatched a second group towards engineering. It helped that a few of the Andorians were versed in Vulcan. He crept slowly through a broad corridor.
An Andorian slid up beside him and handed him a wicked looking blade. The woman called it an ushann-tor. Albright nodded toward her and gripped the haft of the curved blade in his left hand. He held a short barreled assault weapon in his right. Albright had limited practice with the gun. He hoped that he would not get any better with the weapon here.
"Access forward," an engineering technician informed him after looking at a placard.
"They build these things for room," Albright said.
The Andorian didn't get a chance to answer. A bright flash filled the gangway. The Andorian fell back: His head and right arm slipped from his body. Nausea hit Gordon briefly after he heard the body parts hit the metal deck. He threw himself down, firing the rifle as hit the deck. Albright's ears rang as the weapon spit out a hail of small shot.
Albright rolled around a corner. He briefly saw some sort of a fluid leak before he ducked around the corridor. He assumed that he had hit some piping until he replayed the scene in his mind. He shot a quick glance around the corner. The carcass lay in a heap, a green splash that Albright had at first taken for some sort of hydraulic fluid was spattered on the wall behind the dead Vulcan. There seemed to be no other activity. Albright rose to a crouch, crept around the corner, and satisfied that it was clear motioned for his crew to follow.
Gordon lost all notion of how much further they had to go. Vulcan had not shared explicit schematics of their cruisers with the Stellar Navy. He thought that they had gone about fifty meters. He drew close to a large hatch: It was almost three meters across. Albright peered through a pane of transparent aluminum. Rows of boxy Vulcan shuttles were parked neatly on the huge deck beyond the hatchway. Gordon spied a similar lock across the deck of the shuttle bay.
"Captain," a human crewman said after emerging through the thong. "We can't move past what looks like a primary bulkhead. Thalix," he nodded at his Andorian companion, "has keyed in every pointie code that he knows. The engineers are trying to burn through but it's gonna be awhile."
"We don't have awhile," Albright answered in a rare lapse into English. He turned to an engineer and resumed in Andorian: "Is the shuttle bay hatch functional?"
"I believe so sir," the engineer's antennae were bent forward under his space helmet. Albright wondered why the Andorians had not built them with more headroom. He nodded toward the technician who then keyed in an opening sequence. The hatch slid open soundlessly. Albright had allowed them to swing their visors after it was determined that atmosphere was present.
Albright slid along the wall of the hatchway trying to present as small a silhouette as a man wearing a bulky space suit could do. He was regretting his decision to allow them to breathe the cruiser's air: It was oppressively hot. The bay seemed to be empty. Gordon stepped lively to the cover of a shuttle. It looked as if the adjacent hatchway that he had spied would take them to the next section; at least he hoped so.
He saw the shooter as a movement of shadow. Gordon threw himself down. He heard the low whine of the particle weapon. Albright crawled to the end of the shuttle's landing skid. A streak moved from one shuttle to the cover of another: Too late the speeding figure was cut in half. Gordon recognized the red Andorian laser fire. It struck Gordon how the burned Vulcan had not even cried out. Gordon got up and sprinted.
A uniformed Vulcan stepped out of the cover of a maintenance cart. Albright blazed away. The soldier exploded into green gore. He could hear the cheering and savage hoots of his Andorian crew. A particle beam hit his rifle causing it to explode in a shower of molten metal and fire. Gordon cried out and threw the broken, hot gun to the deck. The Vulcan was less than two meters from him. The soldier leveled his rifle at Albright. He vaguely realized that Vulcans were swarming out of hiding places everywhere around him.
He rushed forward, ushann-tor in hand. He swung hard knocking the shot aside. The Vulcan grunted slightly as the ice blade cut into his shoulder. The Vulcan brought the rifle up, too little room to shoot he seized it in both hands and deflected Gordon's next thrust. Albright stepped past the Vulcan. He heard rather than felt the sickening wet crunch from his rib cage. He swung wildly. The Vulcan dropped the rifle and spun away. The wounded soldier clasped at his neck as his green life blood spurted from between his fingers. Albright tried to suck some air in: He felt like a knife was imbedded in his side. He kicked the dying Vulcan aside and stooped to take his particle rifle.
The fight had gone from particle weapons and lasers to desperate hand to hand. Albright turned to see one of his Andorian boarding party members spun around by his Vulcan opponent. The Vulcan seized the Andorian's head and twisted. Gordon could hear the snap. Did Vulcans feel any sense of fulfillment that came with winning, Gordon wondered; if so the woman had little time to enjoy it as one of the few other humans from Kumari shot a hole through her midsection with a plasma pistol.
"Follow me!" he bellowed as he exited the opposite hatch. A Vulcan stepped into his sights at the end of the long corridor that Gordon was plunging down. The shot went past Albright. He heard someone scream behind him. Albright shot from the hip. The Vulcan's right side burst into flame as the soldier fell to the deck. Albright sprinted despite the agony from his ribs.
He burst into what he recognized as T'Mir's bridge. Vanik sat calmly, the Vulcan captain's fingers racing across a control panel. Albright fired without hesitation. The panel burst into flames. Vanik soundlessly staunched the flames that consumed the right arm of his uniform tunic. Gordon could hear his crew filtering in. An engineer slid past him.
"Callin, did he trigger the self destruct?" he asked the Andorian engineer.
Albright watched in apprehension as the alien fumbled over the Vulcan instruments. Finally he looked directly at Gordon. "Major damage where we skewered them sir, but he was unable to start the scuttling sequence." The communication rig in Albright's suit emitted the peculiar alien chime made for smaller ears than Gordon's. He was informed in short order that T'Mir's engineering spaces were in the hands' of his boarders. He ordered those milling about to sweep the rest of the cruiser.
Albright noticed an Andorian medic pushing threw the throng. "Ton'la, see to Captain Vanik's wounds." He listened as reports filtered in that seemed to indicate that he and his crew had won the day.
Another tone sounded. Gordon pressed the stud that initiated contact with his ship. "Captain," Saln's voice filled his helmet. "Repairs are in progress. L'Nira has climbed out of the gas giant's atmosphere. Major Hesada has informed me that his ship's warp core is nearing critical. He is abandoning ship."
"We seem to be in control here, first," Albright answered. "Disengage the flight pod when you can and prepare to take on L'Nira's survivors. Go through the crew roster and see if you can find enough of our people to crew this ship." Gordon watched as Vanik finally seemed to become unsettled as the Vulcan realized that he was going to lose his ship. He hoped that he had enough Andorians and humans, schooled in Vulcan to take T'Mir.
"This vessel is property of the High Command," Vanik said. "Seizing it would constitute an act of war."
"Killing innocent refugees could also be an act of war Captain Vanik." Albright countered. "I could not allow that to happen. I don't pretend to understand what is happening on your world, but I believe that Vulcan signed onto the Emergency Rescue and Relief Protocols; unless your people have backed out of that agreement as well." Gordon's rage got the best of him as he recalled Vulcan's abandonment of their mutual defense treaty with earth. "You may not fire upon noncombatants and you certainly may not fire upon distressed spaceship crewmen. You violated the terms of that agreement. This vessel is now property of Star Fleet and you are under arrest." He watched as Vanik's control slipped, if only for a few seconds. The anger directed at Gordon seemed as dangerous as a laser beam.
