Star Trek - Log 7

  "You'll have whatever you need, Captain."

  At the rear of the Enterprise, twin clamshell doors slid back to reveal a high, well-lit chamber—the shuttlecraft hangar. Tiny wisps of frozen air, missed by the recyclers, puffed out from the crack which appeared between the doors.

  Spock listened for a moment, then turned to report, "Shuttlecraft One ready for launch, Captain."

  Kirk took a deep, hopeful breath. "All right. Ready, everyone. Mr. Sulu, I want full emergency power."

  "Aye, sir." Sulu activated the necessary controls. A steady, rarely heard whine began to build on the bridge as the Enterprise's immense engines labored to comply.

  On board the Klingon cruiser, Lieutenant Kritt suddenly bent close over his console and stared intently at the readouts from the rear-facing scanners.

  "Commander, the Federation ship is closing on us!" He paused to check the information with the helmsman. "Reports confirmed—they are increasing speed rapidly."

  Kumara frowned slightly, and peered at the growing dot on the viewscreen. He searched his mind for possibilities, but found nothing but groundless conjecture.

  "I had expected something more elaborate from James Kirk. Even so, he is pressed for time. He must know we will contact Shahkur Base and request reinforcement soon." He barked an order at Kritt. "Prepare to go on emergency power."

  Sulu was busy studying the information his own scanners were sending back to him. "We're gaining on them, sir."

  "Speed, Mr. Sulu?"

  "Warp-seven . . . coming up on warp-eight, maximum speed."

  "Push her as far as she'll stand, Lieutenant."

  Sulu shoved down the final switch, pressed the last button, and turned his attention to a bank of small dials. All were creeping steadily into the red at the end of each scale.

  "Definitely closing on the Klingon ship, Captain," Arex reported with a touch of excitement.

  "Engine temperature rising rapidly, Captain," Spock reported.

  On board the Klingon cruiser, Kumara examined the flow of information and muttered into a pickup. "Stand by, Engineering. Not yet, Kritt," he added, noticing one of the navigator's hands hovering tensely over a control. "Learn patience and attain permanence."

  "Converter temperature is nearing the melting point, Captain," Spock reported, not looking up from his instrumentation. "Coming up on phaser range. Shall I prepare to fire?"

  "Negative, Mr. Spock." There was a beep at his arm. "What is it, Scotty?"

  The chief engineer's worried voice sounded distantly over the speaker, distorted by the now deafening whine of the engines.

  "Captain, we canna keep this up much longer without melting something critical!"

  "Hold steady a bit longer, Scotty."

  "A bit is all it'll be. Captain. Engineerin' out."

  "Exalted Commander," a worried Kritt said, looking anxiously from his console back at Kumara, "they'll be within phaser range any minute."

  "Gently, Lieutenant, gently."

  Spock's tone never changed, only the information was modulated. "Engine temperature nearing the critical point, Captain." He turned and looked at Kirk, with an expression that said more lucidly than words, Do now whatever you've got a mind to do.

  Kirk hesitated no longer.

  "Launch shuttlecraft!"

  Spock gave the order and reported promptly, "Shuttlecraft away and locked on course."

  "Cut emergency power . . . reduce speed to warp-six."

  "Reducing speed," Sulu responded.

  "Engine temperature dropping rapidly, Captain," Spock announced. As he did so, the temperature on the bridge also seemed to drop noticeably.

  "Engineering, report," Kirk said into the pickup. There was a long moment before Scott's tired voice replied.

  "Engineerin' . . . We almost lost one of the dilithium chambers. You cut it mighty near, Captain."

  "Sorry, Scotty. Had to. Congratulate everyone back there for me. For all of us."

  "I will, Captain . . . as soon as they stop tremblin'. Engineering out." Scott clicked off, moved to the central console, and planted a wet kiss of gratitude on a certain gauge which had yet again moved him one minute nearer a comfortable retirement.

  "What now, Jim?" McCoy wondered aloud, staring at the viewscreen. Their quarry was no longer a distant glowing pinpoint, but now a definite inimical silhouette.

  "I'd estimate about five minutes, Bones." Kirk chewed his lower lip and tried to see deeper than the ship's scanners . . .

  On board the Klingon cruiser, Lieutenant Kritt leaned back in his stiff, unyielding seat and spoke with satisfaction. "Commander, the Federation ship's position is once again constant with respect to ours. They are no longer closing distance."

  If he expected his exalted superior to look pleased, he was disappointed. Sometimes Kumara could be as impassive as a Vulcan. The commander gave every sign of having expected the good news.

  "I thought they couldn't maintain that speed much longer, Lieutenant," he commented easily, before turning his attention to the intercom. "Engineering, stand down. Emergency power will not be required." He looked back at the screen, murmuring half to himself, "Nice bluff, James Kirk, but you should know better than to try to panic me."

  "Pardons, Commander," Kritt wondered, "but aren't we going to utilize emergency power to reopen the distance between our ships? They are extremely close now."

  "Extremely, but not dangerously so, Lieutenant. Have you learned nothing? They could only have hoped to prod us into straining our own resources—something," he added smugly, "we will not do. So long as we remain out of phaser range, they might as well be a dozen system-units behind, for all the harm they can do us. Nor do I believe their vessel has the capacity to repeat that maneuver again before we are contacted by relief ships from Shahkur Base." He looked well pleased with himself.

  "Then there is the delicious irony of the situation."

  Kritt looked confused. "Irony, Commander?"

  "Do you not see it? Fah! I am assisted by blind men. Not only has their attempt to pressure us failed completely, Lieutenant, but now they must bear the additional torment of following us at much closer range. Close enough for their scanners to read our registration numbers—close enough for them to sense our smiles, you see."

  Kritt turned back to his readouts and studied them, his gaze shifting thoughtfully from the tiny unemotional figures back to the main screen with its portrait of the pursuing Enterprise. "I think I do, Commander. I think . . ."

  Spock noted the latest readings of separation and reported, "The enemy vessel is maintaining course and speed, Captain."

  "No evidence of increasing her speed?"

  "No, Captain. Apparently they are content to remain at this distance."

  "Good. Mr. Spock, prepare for remote converter override of the shuttlecraft's engine. Remove safeties and cancel fail-safes. Mr. Sulu, now you can energize the forward phasers."

  Realization dawned on the helmsman's face, and he bent to the task gleefully. The purpose was slower in coming to McCoy; Spock had already guessed it.

  "An excellent idea, Captain," the first officer commented approvingly. "It requires only that the Klingons act as Klingons. Given that, the possibilities for success are substantial."

  "So that's it!" McCoy declared. "You really think it will change the status quo, Jim?"

  "I'm hopeful, Bones. A lot depends on their instrumentation being so tied up with monitoring our every sneeze that they'll overlook an object the size of the shuttle. They know we're well out of photon-torpedo range—but the shuttle's engine is capable of covering a good deal more space.

  "Of course, it would be a useless effort if Kumara's ship was undertaking defensive maneuvers. But it's not. They're simply cruising along an unwavering course."

  "Shuttle closing on enemy vessel, sir," Arex reported.

  Everyone on the bridge stared at the screen, trying to spot the minute spark that would be the shuttle. Detectors tracked it easily, though, where the naked eye
failed.

  At one end of the Klathas's bridge an officer suddenly squinted, staring hard and uncertainly at an unexpectedly active screen, noting a small but potentially significant reading. It might be nothing. Probably was, in which case he risked exposing himself to embarrassment and ridicule.

  On the other hand, if the instrumentation was doing its job . . . and mechanicals were immune to insult.

  "Commander?" he finally said, electing to tempt the gods.

  "Yes? What is it, Korreg?"

  "Exalted One, I wish you would give your opinion of this. It appears to be a very oddly formed meteoric body which—"

  Kumara barely had time to look startled before dashing down to stare over the scanner-control officer's shoulder. When he saw the activated screen and matched it against the reading nearby, he turned a light purple.

  "IDIOT!"

  Korreg winced, not sure whether he'd exercised the proper option.

  Kumara didn't have time to enlighten him. That would come soon enough . . . perhaps lethally.

  "Engineering!" he roared into the intercom. "Full emergency power—maximum thrust!"

  "But, Commander," a hesitant voice replied, "you just said—"

  "I want full emergency thrust immediately or I'll personally pull your eyes from your head, Kanndad!"

  "Ye—yes, Commander! At once!"

  "Captain," Sulu cried, "the Klingon ship is increasing her speed. They appear to be going on emerg—"

  "Present shuttlecraft position, Lieutenant!" Kirk barked, cutting the helmsman off.

  "Shuttle is nearing critical radius, Captain," Sulu reported, more in control of himself now, though the tenseness remained in his voice. "Wait . . . distance is increasing. Klingon cruiser beginning to pull—"

  "Spock! Exercise engine override—now!"

  The first officer touched a switch. Kilometers of circuitry sent a single, brief signal to the racing shuttle, still traveling ahead of the now slowed Enterprise at her launch speed of warp-eight. The on-board shuttlecraft computer was simple compared to the massive machine mind on board the starship, but it was fully capable of interpreting that concise command.

  A few relays opened, protesting controls were ignored, normal modifiers were shunted aside as the shuttle obediently self-destructed. As it did so, a stunning flash of white radiance momentarily blinded the Enterprise's forward scanners.

  The effects of that silent explosion on the Klathas were somewhat more extreme.

  "Report, Mr. Sulu," Kirk demanded, mentally crossing his fingers. "Status of Klingon cruiser?"

  The helmsman double-checked his instrumentation to be certain before announcing, "She's losing speed, Captain . . . dropping below warp-seven . . . below warp-six. We're moving into phaser range."

  "It worked, Jim," McCoy observed, a note of satisfaction and admiration in his voice.

  Kirk didn't sound enthusiastic. "We don't know how well it worked, Bones. The range was extreme, and expanding even as I gave Spock the order. We've obviously disabled her, damaging her engines, but her offensive weaponry may still be intact and fully operational. Now comes the difficult part."

  "You mean attacking?"

  "No. Trying to convince Kumara that he's got to surrender. Stand by forward phasers and torpedo banks. Mr. Sulu."

  "Standing by, sir," replied the helmsman firmly.

  Emergency ventilators were rapidly clearing the Klathas's bridge of smoke and dangerous freed gases. The sounds of coughing and the crew's gasps for decent air provided an unnerving accompaniment to Kumara's efforts to regain the command seat. He had been ungently thrown from that position when the shuttlecraft's engine exploded.

  Painfully, he hauled himself to a sitting position in the chair, favoring the arm he had fallen on. A careful yet rapid survey showed that the bridge was still operational and casualties were minor.

  What it was like at the rear of the Klathas, the place that had borne the brunt of the concussion caused by superheated gases and vaporized solids, he could well imagine.

  "Speed . . . speed is still falling, Commander," a battered Kritt reported slowly, feeling his bruised jaw with one hand. Kumara activated the intercom and was gratified to find that it worked perfectly.

  "Engineering, damage report." Silence shouted back at him from the stern of the ship. He tried again. "Engineering, this is your commander. Kanndad, what's the difficulty back there? I need this ship back up to speed in ten aines or I'll have you all fed to the converters!"

  A worn, rasping voice finally replied. It was tinged with a vaguely insubordinate sarcasm. "Kanndad here Captain. We've sustained major damage to both engine nacelles. This ship won't make good cruising speed for several hundred aines, if the damage is repairable at all, and if most of my key personnel haven't been too seriously injured. What happened?"

  "Never mind that now," Kumara told him irritably. He did not take note of his engineer's sarcastic response. He didn't have time for such luxuries. "Other than the drive, what is our power status?"

  Kanndad turned silent again, apparently consulting someone out of pickup range.

  "Eighty percent, Commander," he finally reported. Kumara took some comfort from that announcement. They were crippled but still armed.

  Kritt spoke into the nearly clear atmosphere. "Federation ship closing to battle range, Commander." A pause; then, "They are transmitting."

  Kumara could guess the nature of that transmission. Well, if Kirk thought the Klathas was drifting helplessly, he had an unpleasant surprise in store.

  "I can see that she's closing, offspring of a worm's slave. As to the transmission, we'll answer it all right. Arm all rearward projectors and fire at will. And, Korreg, for once in your misbegotten life, see if you can hit something smaller than a blue star. Full power to the defensive screens." He stared at the viewscreen, which now clearly showed the ominous form of the approaching Enterprise.

  "It is just," he muttered, too softly for anyone to hear, "that a ship of fools be commanded by a fool."

  But if they survived the coming fight, he vowed, Kirk would not fool him again . . .

  VII

  Sulu carefully noted the sliding dial which indicated battle position relative to their quarry. "Inside range, Captain."

  Kirk hesitated. He had no idea how badly the Klathas was damaged or how many serious injuries her crew had already suffered. "Uhura, any response to our transmission?"

  "Not yet, Captain. Possibly their own communications have been damaged."

  "Possibly. Or Kumara could be—"

  A dull crump sounded, and the bridge was rocked by a wave of energy. Lights flickered momentarily before steadying.

  "We've absorbed a full attack from the Klingons' rear projector banks, Captain," Spock informed them. "Our screens are holding tight."

  "Returning fire, Captain," said Sulu, adjusting massive instruments of destruction with delicate fingers.

  Kirk half smiled. "That's our answer. I should have known Kumara would choose to open negotiations in his own way. What's their speed, Lieutenant?"

  Sulu checked a different set of readouts. "Holding at about warp-five, Captain."

  "We have to reduce their speed still further," Kirk instructed everyone. "Otherwise, we'll simply fight a running battle until the ships from Shahkur meet up with Kumara. We have to weaken him significantly, weaken him to the point where he'll have no choice but to surrender. We have slightly more mobility, Mr. Sulu. Use it."

  "Doing my best, sir," the thoroughly occupied helmsman responded. "We'll cut them down."

  That section of space was filled for the next hour with a hellish display of barely controlled energies, beams of blue and red piercingly brilliant through the stark blackness. Occasional eruptions of lambent cloud appeared on the exterior of each vessel whenever offensive probing beams contacted the argumentative energies of a defensive screen.

  Sulu used the Enterprise's superior speed carefully, teaming with the ship's battle computer to confuse the Klingons' r
etaliatory efforts while optimizing the Enterprise's own attacks. There was little the Klingons could do to compensate. If they lowered their speed to throw off the Enterprise's attacks, they conceded even more mobility to the Federation ship, gave her battle computer another chip to play . . . and, most important, lengthened the time between themselves and the Shahkur rendezvous.

  At 62.24 minutes into the running battle, a phaser beam partially penetrated a severely strained defensive screen to strike one of the Klathas's engine nacelles a glancing blow. That glancing blow killed twenty technicians and wounded as many others. The local damage was extreme.

  Kumara knew they had taken a considerable hit from the wrench it communicated to the bridge. This time he managed to hold his position.

  "Kanndad . . . Kanndad!" he yelled into the intercom. It gave back only a threatening crackle.

  "Communications to that part of the ship temporarily out," Kritt reported. "Working to reestablish. Secondary engineering reports left converter potential critically damaged by phaser fire. We're going to lose more than half our remaining speed. Engineering reports that unless total engine shutdown occurs within five du-aines, to permit repairs, all light-multiple drive capability will be lost."

  "When primary engineering communications are reestablished, instruct Engineer Kanndad to do his utmost, Lieutenant."

  "Yes, sir," a disgruntled Kritt acknowledged. "Maintaining fire. Shifting to compensate for weakened screen."

  Kumara heard the words, looked at the faces of his immediate subordinates, and knew that unless they effected a drastic reversal of the present battle conditions, he would be forced to surrender or ship-suicide.

  Undoubtedly, Kirk would be prepared for any new tricks. Very well, then . . . he would try an old one.

  "Attention, all stations."

  Harried, dispirited faces turned to look at him as he activated general intership intercom, sending his voice throughout the battle-weary vessel.

  "Attention. Burial details and all nonoffensive-action personnel. You will begin a complete canvass of the ship and gather all nonessential items—repeat, gather all nonessential items. Strip your cabins, the corridors, storage chambers of anything and everything not integral to life support or ship operations." His voice darkened.