Star Trek - Log 7

  Kirk turned and saw the rest of the bridge crew listening attentively. "What are you all staring at? Don't you have stations to man? In case some of you aren't aware of it, this ship is on red alert and in the midst of an ongoing battle. Or perhaps there are some among you who . . ."

  The level of activity on the bridge rose rapidly.

  "Mr. Spock, your estimation of how soon repairs to the Klathas will be completed?" The first officer bent to his console. He looked up calmly several moments later.

  "It is difficult to evaluate the damage to the enemy vessel with much accuracy, Captain. Judging from the information available through the library, combined with that obtained by our sensors, however, I should say that they will complete minimally necessary repairs to their engines well ahead of us."

  Kirk double-checked with Engineering and found that Scott confirmed Spock's analysis.

  "All right, Scotty, do what you can. Kirk out." The captain sat back and considered their situation. If the Klathas were allowed to run under warp-drive for even a short time while the Enterprise remained comparatively immobile, they would lose contact with her completely. There had to be some way to prevent that. Phasers and photon-torpedo banks were inoperable owing to the damaged firecontrol computer; impulse power would be useless . . . they had to stick with the Klathas somehow.

  Stick with . . .

  "Mr. Arex."

  "Yes Captain?" The Edoan navigator responded promptly.

  "I need a report on the status of the tractor beams."

  "Just a moment, sir." Arex checked his console, tried a few switches, and found they responded as programmed. "Instruments indicate that all tractor units are intact and capable of full function, sir. Power leads to Engineering are undamaged, and all other subsidiary instrumentation appears functional."

  "Thank you, Mr. Arex." Down went the intercom button. "Scotty . . ."

  "Aye, Captain, what now?" the chief engineer wondered. "If it's about the drive . . ."

  "Not this time, Scotty. How would it affect your repair work back there if I had to request maximum, sustained power to the tractor beams?"

  "The tractors?" Scott hesitated only long enough to mentally retrace one diagram out of several thousand locked and filed securely in the manual of his mind. "Not at all, Captain. That's an independent power link. I can give you all the attractive force you want."

  "I'll hold you to that, Scotty," Kirk told him thankfully. "We may need it all." He clicked off and snapped an order to the helm. "Mr. Sulu! Prepare to engage the Klathas with all forward tractors. Use near full power, one unit below maximum."

  "Aye, sir," Sulu responded. "Should I attempt to close the distance between us?"

  "Negative, Mr. Sulu. Maintain present disposition. We're close enough for effective tractor work. I don't want to move in to where Kumara can use portable weaponry against us. Since we can't go anywhere until Mr. Scott's people have repaired the drive, I just want to make sure the Klingons can't go anywhere without us."

  "Prepared to lock onto enemy vessel, Captain," Sulu reported. "All forward tractors powered and standing by."

  "Engage, Mr. Sulu."

  The helmsman gave the necessary electronic order. There was the briefest pause before a slight quiver was felt on the bridge.

  A jolt was felt on the bridge of the Klathas. Kumara looked up as Kritt reported, "Commander, sensors indicate that the Federation vessel has—"

  "Locked onto us with her tractor beams," Kumara finished for him. "I don't require mechanicals to confirm that for me. It was an obvious desperation move." He eyed the drifting Enterprise. "I only wonder why it took them so long."

  Five aines passed before Kumara's chair intercom buzzed for attention. "Report yourself," he said to the pickup.

  "Engineering here, Exalted Commander." There was a touch of exultation in Korreg's exhausted voice. "I am pleased to report that we have restored partial drive capability."

  A shrill battle cry broke out on the bridge at these words. For once Kumara decided to ignore the breach of discipline. The men could do with a little enthusiasm.

  "Remember, Commander, we have only partial capability. Our speed and maneuverability are still severely limited."

  "I understand, Korreg. It will be enough, I think. My commendation to you and your personnel. At the successful completion of this mission there will be honors for all. I salute you."

  He turned from the intercom to an uncertain Kritt. "But, Exalted One, there is still the problem of the Enterprise's tractors."

  "Must I constantly be afflicted with reminders of the obvious?" Kumara moaned. "Am I forever to be oppressed by relentless idiocy? Worm's offspring, product of a misaligned mating, can you see no solution to anything save what is written already? Prepare to get under way!"

  "At once, Commander!" a rejuvenated Kritt responded. The rest of the bridge crew bent to their own tasks happily, secure in the confidence expressed by their commander's renewed good mood.

  Sulu's attention was caught by the sudden activation of long-quiescent readouts. "Captain," he announced anxiously, "the Klathas appears to be increasing speed."

  "Confirmed, Captain," Spock declared evenly. "They are approaching velocity beyond the ability of impulse power. It would seem that they have their warp-drive working again."

  "Mr. Sulu," Kirk inquired, "report on the status of all tractor linkages."

  The helmsman hurriedly checked the appropriate telltales and reported steadily, "Tractors all holding firm, sir. No sign of weakening, and all instrumentation operating efficiently."

  "Mr. Spock, compute energy output of the Klathas and compare with her rate of acceleration." Spock did the necessary figuring and announced a figure. Kirk relaxed a little. "They've regained only partial use of their drive, Spock. By the time they can complete their repairs, according to your estimates of the damage they've suffered, Mr. Scott should have restored our own engines back to equal operation. That means full use of our weapons systems as well, since the firecontrol computer is expected to be fixed at the same time." He looked satisfied.

  "Then we can restart this argument on an equal basis again . . ."

  Lieutenant Kritt looked up from his console, some of his initial enthusiasm at the return of drive capability now dampened by what his readouts told him.

  "We are approaching warp-speed, Commander, but we cannot exceed it by much until further repairs have been completed by Engineering. We do not have enough power to break the Enterprise's tractor lock on us."

  Kumara remained relaxed, confident. "Not with sheer speed we do not, Lieutenant."

  "Your pardon, Exalted One?"

  "Pay attention, Kritt." Kumara's voice rose to reach every attentive ear on the bridge. "Pay attention, all of you. We will execute the following course changes, and execute them with utmost precision. And in so doing, we will finish this absurd contest once and for all . . ."

  There was no panic on the Enterprise's bridge when evidence of the initial Klingon maneuver was reported by her detectors.

  "Captain," Sulu declared promptly, "the Klingons are shifting strongly to starboard, running at a considerable angle now to their previous course."

  I wonder what Kumara is up to, Kirk thought.

  "It seems strange, Captain," Spock announced, obviously puzzled. "They have the benefit, however temporary, of warp-drive capability. I should think their proper course of action would be to make as much distance toward their base at Shahkur as possible before we regain use of our own drive and weapons."

  "I agree, Spock. That's my thought too. Possibly Kumara is trying to trick us again, trying to convince us there's Klingon aid closer but in a different direction." He began to be concerned. It wasn't like Kumara to try anything so transparent.

  "Mr. Spock, you're certain the Klingons have no military facilities nearer than Shahkur?"

  Spock utilized the library briefly. "Absolutely nothing, Captain. Shahkur is at the extreme fringe of the Empire. And the Klingons do not normall
y patrol this region in force, so I think it extremely unlikely they have contacted another ship."

  "He's up to something," Kirk muttered.

  At that moment a slight quiver ran through the bridge. "Klathas has executed another radical course change, Captain," Sulu reported. "Approximately forty-five degrees to port of their new course."

  "Tractor status?"

  "Still holding tight, Captain," Arex announced quietly. "We're staying with them. No change in disposition."

  Another quiver rattled the bridge. It was slightly stronger this time.

  Sulu's voice rose slightly. "Now they're shifting to starboard again."

  On the screen Kirk saw the Klathas nearly vanish to the right before scanner compensators realigned her in the center of the screen. Simultaneously, a strong jolt rocked the bridge so hard that Uhura had to grab the arms of her chair to keep from being thrown free.

  "Shifting again, Captain!"

  "Steady, Mr. Sulu." He was on the intercom instantly. Now it was obvious what Kumara was up to. The question was . . . could they do anything about it?

  "Scotty, have you restored any drive capability yet? Anything at all?"

  "No, Captain," the chief engineer replied. "And"—his voice was momentarily drowned out as the next shock rocked the Enterprise and forced Kirk to brace himself against the arm of the chair—"we're not goin' to have any if this infernal shakin' gets any worse. What the devil's goin' on up there?"

  "It's the Klingon ship. Kumara knows he hasn't regained enough power to break free of our tractors, so he's playing crack-the-whip . . . with us on the snapping end."

  "The colloquial identification is obscure, Captain," Spock firmly declared, "but the physical theory cannot be quarreled with. If this continues, the centripetal force will soon be sufficient to overpower our tractor beams and break the Klathas free."

  Kirk didn't have to cut the intercom—the next shock did that. This one was severe enough to send sparks flying from several consoles and knock two momentarily unbraced specialists to the deck.

  McCoy stumbled over to the command chair and grabbed the back for support. "Jim, we can't go on like this. If it gets any worse, it won't matter whether the Klingons break free or not. I'm receiving injury reports already, from all over the ship." Another jolt sent him spinning to the floor, despite his hold on the chair back.

  "Captain, I must concur with the doctor," Spock insisted, struggling to retain his own position. "Calculations indicate that much additional stress will begin to affect the ship's hull. Even the strongest seams cannot take—"

  "All right, Spock!" Kirk's mind churned furiously. There was no time for careful consideration of possible alternatives, no time to judge possible reciprocal effects of his idea.

  Besides, it was his only idea. The trouble was, it could affect them as severely as it did the Klingons.

  Another shock struck as the Klathas slammed over to a new heading once more. The tractors still held, a credit to their designers. Unfortunately, human beings were not nearly so solidly constructed.

  Kirk climbed painfully back into the command chair, every millimeter of his body bruised and strained. Only Arex, with his triple limbs, had succeeded in retaining his position during that last shock, but even he appeared shaken.

  Lights flickered momentarily, then came on strong. The next time they might not. "Mr. Spock, I want a half-second countdown to the Klathas's next projected course change. They have to maintain a set pattern of changes for maximum effectiveness."

  "Fifteen, fifteen, fourteen, fourteen . . ." Spock recited in a monotone, not questioning the reasoning behind the command.

  "Mr. Arex, on command you will disengage tractor beams for the minimum amount of time possible, then reengage. Do you understand?"

  "No, sir . . . but standing ready." One finger hovered over the button in question, still with inhuman control.

  ". . . Nine, nine, eight, eight . . ." The first officer continued to count, his voice never wavering.

  "Stress on the exterior plates is nearing the danger point, sir," the ensign at the engineering station reported tensely. Kirk ignored him, his gaze locked on the screen, where the Klathas was sliding rapidly to starboard again, his attention focused on Spock's count to the exclusion of all else.

  ". . . Four, four, three, three, two, two . . ."

  "Whatever you're going to do, Jim, do it!" yelled McCoy.

  ". . . One, o—"

  "Now, Arex!"

  The Edoan's finger descended, firmly depressed the switch controlling the forward tractors, allowed it to rise, then depressed it again. The action was almost too fast for a human eye to follow.

  Several things happened at once. A tiny dial on Arex's console barely quivered. A tremendous force wrenched at the Enterprise. It sounded as though every bit of metal—every plate, beam, wire, down to the fillings in Scott's back teeth—vibrated in protest. This time the lights stayed out. The only illumination on the bridge was provided by the brilliant display of sparks which arced from one outraged console to another.

  Transparent facings on gauges and dials shattered, and everyone, including Arex, was thrown heavily to the deck.

  Kirk had only a glimpse of the screen as he was thrown clear of the command chair. It dimmed but didn't wink out entirely. It showed the Klathas whipping around like a top, to stop facing the Enterprise bow-on.

  The lights came back on slowly, but with none of the usual crispness of emergency backups snapping in. Groans and mild curses, indicative of pain incurred, formed a slowly rising murmur on the bridge.

  Kirk had to pull himself bodily back into his chair. "Mr. Arex, report," he said, wincing and clutching at his right shoulder. "Report on the status of the Klingon vessel. Disposition and speed relative to our own."

  There was a long pause. This time not even Arex had escaped the pounding, and it took a few minutes for the Edoan's jarred mind to settle enough so that he could make sense of what his instruments were telling him—those that were still operative.

  "Instruments show . . . instruments show . . ." His soulful eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Sir, all engine activity, including impulse power, has ceased aboard the Klathas!"

  "Mr. Spock, confirmation." Please, he added silently.

  "Correct, Captain," the first officer reported. "The Klathas shows no evidence of internal power beyond what is required to maintain vital life-support systems. She shows no signs of drive activity."

  "And what about ourselves?"

  Spock studied his instrumentation a moment longer. "We have apparently sustained additional damage as well, Captain. We are in little better shape than the Klathas."

  "Damage reports starting to come in, Captain," Uhura announced. Her left cheek was swollen and badly discolored, but her voice was as crisp and precise as ever.

  "Make note of them, Lieutenant," Kirk responded, "and I'll review them at first opportunity. Meanwhile, get me Engineering."

  Uhura worked her console, then explained, "Sorry, sir . . . that portion of intership communications is presently inoperative. Lieutenant M'ress has checked in to say that she is working on the breakdown with communications personnel and Engineering Maintenance."

  "It may be just as well, Jim," McCoy suggested. "I'm not sure I'd care to listen to Scotty just now—not after what that last shock must have done to his half-finished repairs. What did happen, anyway?"

  "It worked is what happened, Bones, although it worked on both of us—on the Enterprise as well as on the Klathas." He tried to slip into a comfortable position, discovered that his battered body found no position comfortable, and tried to take his mind off the throb in his shoulder by explaining.

  "Did you ever play crack-the-whip when you were a kid, Bones? On any kind of skates?"

  "Sure." He grimaced. "I always seemed to end up on the outside end."

  "What would happen if that outside end suddenly grabbed hold of something immovable, like a fixed post or other solid object, and held on—even if
only for a second?"

  McCoy's brows drew together in thought. Then he smiled and nodded slowly. "Of course . . . The shock would be transmitted all the way down the line, to the inner end. If it were done to a line of skating kids, the ones at the other end would be shaken off . . . although everyone would experience the shock to some degree." His eyes suddenly moved to the screen. "So that's what happened to the Klathas." He gestured at the now completely immobile alien ship. "It spun them completely around. And I thought we'd taken the worst of it."

  "Jubilation is pleasant but only temporary, Doctor," Spock suggested unexcitedly, calmly—rationally. He turned his gaze to Kirk. "What do we do now, Captain?"

  "Now?" Kirk spread his upturned palms in an age-old gesture. "I'm afraid I didn't have much time to think about that, Mr. Spock. We had to cope somehow, and it seems we have. Do now?" He looked up at the screen.

  "We wait to see who can repair his engines or phasers first. Until then, both vessels will continue to drift along exactly as we are—eye to eye, nose to nose—calling each other bad names."

  "A most unprofitable apportionment of mental resources, Captain," the first officer observed disapprovingly.

  "What was that, Spock?"

  "Pay no attention, Jim," McCoy advised him. "Spock's just jealous because Vulcans are culture-conditioned against swearing."

  "Word inebriation," Spock countered, slightly miffed. But that was the end of it . . .

  IX

  "Captain's log, supplemental." Kirk paused, took a long breath, and regarded the Klathas. Its position had not changed since Kumara's ploy to break free of the Enterprise's, tractors had been so joltingly countered. It still faced the Enterprise nose-on, the lights on its bridge glaring at the starship's scanners.

  "We have been drifting below warp-speed together with the Klathas for several standard days now. Events have devolved into a race between the engineering complements of both vessels, to see which can be the first to effect repairs to their respective drives and offensive-weapons systems.