Author's Note:

And now we have Klingons! Hope y'all enjoy, and whether you do or not, please review. I notice I get pretty close to what I write, so it's hard to imagine how it's playing out there.

Quick warning: As the tension gets bigger, so do the curse words.

Nope, I still don't own Star Trek.

McCoy found Jim on one of the observation decks, his head pressed against a huge portal. As the doctor approached, he could see Kamali rotating, its small colony playing a cosmic game of hide and seek with the light from its star.

"Sucks to be the messenger, huh?"

Jim just watched the planet turn.

"I hear Rawles won't play either. How much time do you think we have?"

The captain shrugged. "Dunno," he said. "No chatter that communications has picked up. No incoming ships."

"Is there a chance we're wrong?" Bones asked softly.

Jim moved then, his head separating from the glass pane. "The Klingons are coming for this place, Bones. I know it." His voice sounded rough. "They'll wager it's too far out and too insignificant for us to defend. They'll show up with enough fire power and mining gear to rip this planet apart and take what they want." His forehead reconnected with the portal. "They won't give a fuck about the kids screaming on the surface."

Bones let out a sigh. "You won't let that happen."

Jim shook his head "no," by rolling his brow across the pane.

"Mandatory evacuations?" the doctor asked.

"Dawn, colony time," Jim whispered.

"You know, kid," McCoy said, "usually at this point you'd be pounding your fist and yelling about idiots who can't listen to reason."

The captain grunted in response.

"What's different this time?" Bones asked.

Jim took a deep breath. "They're good people, doing good work. Kamali's the only haven for Plutusian refugees, and if we move the colony, that work will stop… for a long while."

McCoy nodded.

"And then there's the Klingons." Jim blew out a breath. "And that war they're gonna start."

Suddenly a siren broke through the gloom, and Uhura called through the ship's comms. "Captain to the bridge. Captain Kirk, please report to the bridge."

Jim pulled out his comm as he ran. "Kirk here. What's happening."

"Ships headed this way, Captain." That was Sulu's voice.

"Klingons? How far and how many?"

"Unidentified so far but they're coming from Klingon space. Three or four. We have 16, maybe 17 minutes."

"On my way. Uhura, you and Scotty find Kathleen Tallis and organize whatever beam-out you can before those warbirds get here. Tell her to make sure everybody left on the surface takes cover."

"Aye, Captain."

Jim couldn't imagine what kind of cover would work against a small fleet of Klingon warbirds, but he hoped that, somehow, his crew would help the colonists figure that out.

While Bones headed to sickbay, Spock joined his Captain enroute to the bridge. Any crewmen who took time to notice would have seen the two shoulder-to-shoulder, matching strides, as if each was born in sync with the other.

"If we send shuttles before our shields go up, they can evacuate more colonists and escape from the far side of the planet." Jim was strategizing aloud.

"Agreed. I estimate we can transport approximately 18.7% of the colony before the Enterprise is within reach of Klingon weapons," Spock surmised. "If we are not unable to rendezvous with the shuttles in an expedient manner, they can take the remaining colonists to Starbase 24."

"How did we not see them coming, Spock?" Jim's jaw was tight.

"It is possible the pulse masked the Klingons' arrival while their ships were still distant, Captain," Spock posed, "much as it confused data for Mr. Chekov's traffic analysis."

The turbolift swished open to deliver the pair to the bridge.

"Mr. Sulu," Kirk commanded. "You have about 15 minutes to plot the safest shuttle course from the colony to the far side of the planet, and then on to Starbase 24." He heard Sulu acknowledge as he opened a comm to security. "Mr. Giotto, organize teams for both transporter and shuttle evacuations. Mr. Sulu is working out shuttle routes now."

Jim maintained a cool exterior, but internally fumed at himself. How did I let this happen? I should have forced evacuations hours ago.

"Uhura, any response from Starfleet? Is there backup anywhere nearby?"

"No response from Starfleet, Sir. It's likely our message hasn't arrived yet, given our location. And I see no friendly ships within range."

Of course.

"Transporter room reports we are receiving children, Captain." Spock's voice was even. "The first four shuttles have left the hangar."

"Three ships or four? Do we know yet?" Jim asked.

Sulu spoke up. "The pattern is still unclear, Captain, but it's looking like four. And they are definitely warbirds."

"Time?"

"12 minutes."

Spock stepped up to the captain's chair.

"So," Jim said. "We have four warbirds to fight off while we protect the shuttles and whomever's left on the colony."

"A challenging scenario, Jim," Spock said.

Jim's mind raced through possibilities. One warbird was no match for the Enterprise. Two could be defeated with sound strategy. Four were… well, they were one warbird short of the Kobayashi Maru—Starfleet's version of a no-win scenario.

What can we use to tip the scales? Think!

He looked around, at his crew—his family. They were devoted, trusting, at the ready. His heart swelled with pride. Can't let them down, he thought.

He felt the stirrings of an idea.

"Spock, where's the point of origin for the pulse?"

"Coordinates are 008-45-mark 537, Captain."

"Would you say the closer we get, the greater disruption to sensors?"

"That is an intriguing theory, and supported by preliminary observation; it is, however, just a theory." His voice became curious. "You are considering using the Klingons' cloaking device to hide the Enterprise."

Jim's jaw twitched in response.

"Captain, they must know we are here. Additionally, the warships will be able to track our trajectory toward the pulse." Spock knew that, for a man like Kirk, he was probably reiterating what the captain had already deduced.

Jim nodded, then called through the comm. "Mr. Scott!" He could hear the engineer cursing softly, surrounded by sounds of screaming children. "Scotty, I need something quick that we can jettison safely but will explode on impact with a vessel."

"A space mine… Aye, Cap'n. Tricobalt ought ta do it. I can rig one up in a jiffy." From the sound of small voices diminishing, Jim could tell Scotty was already on his way back to engineering.

"A few will be better, but you only have 10 minutes." He turned to Spock with his comm still open. "Spock, would tricobalt mines at the head of the pulse pose any danger to the colony?"

"There is a small risk, Captain. And to the Enterprise, as well."

"Less risk than a warbird's photon torpedoes, I'd wager."

"You would be correct," Spock said.

"Got that, Mr. Scott?"

"Aye, Cap'n. We'll do our bes' to concentrate the blast."

"Sulu, set a course straight for the origin of that pulse. I want these mines deposited as close to it as possible, where there's the smallest chance of detection. If we're lucky, they'll cripple a warbird before the Klingons know what hit them."

Sulu was all too happy to comply. "Course laid in, Captain."

"Once we drop the mines, position us so they're between the warbirds and the Enterprise. Let's lure the Klingons right into them."

"Captain," Spock again, "the first shuttles have arrived at the colony."

"They need to be out of there before the fireworks start, Spock."

"Indeed, Captain. I will reiterate the urgency."

Jim could feel the adrenaline in his bloodstream. He wanted to pace, twitch, hit something, yet he appeared in complete control. Discipline and training were all he'd let show in a crisis like this.

He hit the comm. "How we doing, Scotty?"

"Give me a minute!" The engineer's voice was tight with strain. "Do ye think I'm a magician, now?"

Actually, I know you are. "We've got four minutes, Mr. Scott."

Scotty didn't respond directly, although Jim did hear him mutter something about a "stroppy tyrant."

"Sulu, head for that pulse. Let's park ourselves as close to it as possible."

"Aye-aye, Sir."

"Kirk to transporter room and shuttles. You have three minutes to finish what evacuations you can."

"Yes, Captain."

Minutes passed with agonizing slowness; then came the comm Jim was waiting for. "Mines are all yours, Cap'n. Waitin' in the aft tubes for your order to jettison."

Bless you, Scotty.

"Is the colony evacuated?" Jim asked.

Spock turned from his console. "Evacuation is incomplete, Captain."

Jim gave a tense shake of his head. They couldn't wait any longer. Transporters had to stop, and shuttles had to flee… now. "Shields up," he said. As he uttered the order, he knew it could be a death sentence for whomever was left on the planet.

As Sulu positioned the starship near the heart of the Klingon pulse, Uhura announced, "Captain, we're being hailed."

Jim had thought the warbirds might let their torpedoes do the talking. Instead, he was being given a chance to speak—and a little taunting could go a long way. He allowed himself a small smile. "On screen, Lieutenant."

"Human, your ship is outnumbered. Surrender your vessel."

"This is Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise. To whom am I speaking?"

"This is Killang. You will not live long to enjoy the acquaintance, Captain." Killang sneered, baring filthy teeth. "Did you think we would not see you hiding in your hole?"

"Killang. You and your impudent dogs have entered our space and threatened a Federation planet. I suggest you put your tails between your legs and whimper back where you came from…" The young captain's voice took on a dangerous edge. "…before I am forced to destroy you."

Killang's laugh sounded like a bark. "It is you who are hiding from us! Cowards! Lower your shields, and prepare to be boarded."

Killang ended the transmission, and Jim flew into action. "Spock open the tubes and roll out the mines—as little disruption to surrounding space as possible. Sulu, once the mines are out, slow impulse until we're clear, then gun it. Let the Klingons think we're turning tail. We want them to chase us straight through our mine field."

"Yes, Sir."

"Once they've hit the mines, lead any surviving warships away from the planet."

"Understood, Captain."

Within seconds, the Enterprise was clear of the minefield and flying away at warp speed. As Jim predicted, the warbirds launched themselves into the Enterprise' wake, like a pack of hounds smelling blood.

Almost immediately the viewscreen lit up with the first explosion.

"How many?"

"One ship, Capt…" Spock's response was clipped by another blast. "Two warbirds have been hit. One appears disabled but still intact. The other has been destroyed."

"How close to the colony?"

"Some debris may fall through the atmosphere, but the energy from the blasts was contained to space."

Jim let out a breath. With only two warbirds left for combat, the Enterprise' odds were looking better.

Sulu looked up from his console. "Sir, we're 300,000 kilometers from Kamali."

Jim nodded. "As good a place as any for entertaining. Let's show them what we've got, Mr. Sulu."

The Enterprise dropped out of warp and turned to face the approaching warbirds. To the bridge crew's surprise, though, they found nothing but empty space.

"Where'd they go?" Kirk posed the question mostly to himself.

"The only reasonable explanation, Captain, is that the Klingons have engaged cloaking mechanisms," Spock reported.

"Well, they can't fire on us until they show themselves." Jim spoke almost to himself, as he quietly tapped on the arm of his chair. "Sulu, evasive action."

Suddenly the ship rocked violently.

"They hit us!" Sulu said. "Rammed us on the starboard side."

"What the hell?!" Jim called to Spock. "That can't be any more pleasant for them than it is for us!"

"A suicide mission, perhaps, Captain. By using their ships as battering rams, the Klingons can remain cloaked and deny the Enterprise a target."

"And disable us before we get off a shot," Jim said.

"Indeed."

"Fire at will, Sulu!" A lucky shot would be great about now…

The next attack came from below, a sharp hit to the belly of Jim's beloved ship. He called out as he fought to recover his breath.

"Report!"

"Hull damage to Deck 1, Captain."

Another massive blow on the port side knocked Uhura and Chekov from their seats. Jim clung to the sides of the captain's chair.

"Spock, how many shuttles do we have left?"

"Three, Captain."

This time the warbirds hit in rapid-fire succession—one to the saucer's port side, another to the starboard nacelle. The effect spun the Enterprise in space as its crew reeled from the blows.

"We cannot take many more hits like this, Captain."

"Damage!"

"Dilithium chamber number four has been damaged, Captain. Another hit and warp engines may be compromised."

Jim smacked his comm. "Scotty, kill the engines."

"What?! Are ye mad, man?! We'll be sittin' ducks!"

"Do it now! Keep power to weapons," Jim commanded, then turned to Spock. "Start manning the shuttles, Spock. Uhura, send a message to Starfleet. Say our engines our failing and we're evacuating. A skeleton crew will stay behind to give the shuttles cover."

"You hope to lure them into showing themselves," Spock reasoned.

"All I want is a clear shot, Spock."

Almost immediately, the bridge was wrapped in an eerie silence, as the Enterprise floated against the black like an empty husk. To Jim, whose heart beat to the rhythm of his ship, it felt utterly wrong. Within moments, though, the captain's bluff was rewarded. The viewscreen shimmered, and a Klingon warbird took shape, its photon torpedo tubes already glowing.

"Fire!" Jim commanded. Before the Klingon ship could let loose its torpedos or disappear again, it was engulfed in phaser fire. The ship glowed red hot and exploded into bits of debris.

"The warbird has been destroyed, Captain," Spock reported. "No sign of the remaining ship."

Another one down, Jim thought.

"Power us back up, Mr. Scott." Jim knew the gambit wouldn't pay off a second time. He racked his brain to figure out what his Klingon opponent would try next. He dismissed possibility after possibility, until his mind landed on one stubborn, horrible thought, and he knew.

He knew. The certainty was chilling. Jim Kirk and his crew may have won this round, but the Klingons would make them pay… by raining destruction on Kamali, and the defenseless people stranded on it.