Star Trek - Log 7

  McCoy looked questioningly at Spock. "If the captain's not already on board . . ."

  Spock merely nodded, flipped open his communicator. "Spock to Enterprise . . . beam us up. What"—he stumbled over the words, an indication of how he felt—"what word on the captain?"

  "He's aboard and all right, Mr. Spock," came the filtered burr of Chief Engineer Scott, much to the relief of both men. "But somethin' . . . I dinna know what yet . . . went wrong with the transporter. Nurse Chapel is treatin' him. Stand by to beam up."

  They materialized in a room different from the one they had left. Disorientation lasted only a moment; then Spock addressed the security team. "Ensign Gemas, dismiss your people. You," he said to the injured crewman, "report to Sick Bay and have that shoulder treated."

  "Tell whoever's on duty to use the extractor, son," McCoy added. "You've still got some stone shrapnel imbedded in the muscle." The man nodded, wincing painfully.

  McCoy, was the first to enter the rubble of the still-smoke-filled Transporter Room, saw the two seated figures propped against the wall flanking the alcove.

  "Jim!" He hurried over to the captain, knelt, and looked at Nurse Chapel.

  "Nervous shock, Doctor," she explained in a professional tone, "complicated by extended trauma of unknown origin."

  "Thank you, Chapel. I'll take over here. Help her." He indicated the blank-eyed woman slumped against the wall, and Chapel moved to do so. Spock bent to study the woman also.

  McCoy examined Kirk hurriedly, pulled a hypo from a kit Chapel had brought, and administered it. While he waited for the drug to take effect, he glanced curiously back toward the transporter console, where Scott and his assistant were busily examining its cauterized innards.

  "What happened, Mr. Scott?"

  The chief engineer stared a moment longer at the intricate circuit board—its fluid-state switches a mass of thin goo, its hundreds of microchips forming metal stalactites on its edge—and he shook his head dolefully.

  "I dinna know, Doctor. One minute there were four figures beamin' in, then they'd fade almost to nothing, then grow solid again. In an' out, in an' out, no matter how fine we calibrated the resolution or how much power we poured into materialization. I finally decided to pull 'em in with everythin' we had. The captain came through all right and so did the young lady, but the other two, whoever they were, disappeared. Dinna ask me where to."

  McCoy would have pressed for details, but Kirk was groaning and moving his head.

  "Doctor," Spock declared with concern, "this one is not responding to stimuli." Chapel indicated agreement.

  "Get a stretcher detail up here, Chapel, and have her moved to Sick Bay."

  "Yes, Doctor." She moved to issue the necessary order. Spock leaned close to Kirk and looked up at McCoy.

  "He's coming around. I don't know what happened to them when the transporter went crazy, but the effects were just this side of overpowering."

  A pair of medical techs appeared with a wheelabout between them, and McCoy watched as the woman was gently placed on the mobile bed and rolled from the room.

  Kirk let out a loud moan, diverting their attention.

  "Captain, can you reason?" inquired Spock anxiously. "Do you know where you are?"

  Kirk only groaned again.

  Spock looked worriedly at McCoy. "What are the possible effects on someone held in transport for too long, Doctor?"

  McCoy shrugged slightly. "No one knows for certain what happens to the mind in extended transport, Spock. Transporters used under normal conditions are foolproof. Under abnormal conditions, we just don't know enough about what actually takes place. There are two known cases of people who were in transport when there was an all-systems power failure, backups included. They were finally brought in, but in a coma from which they never emerged."

  He looked back to Kirk, just as the captain opened his eyes and blinked. "Where are the others?"

  At the sound of Kirk's voice, Scott left analysis of the ruined transporter console to his assistant. "Thank the saints you're all right, Captain."

  "Thank you, Scotty." Kirk stood up, rubbing at his forehead. "You've heard of locking someone in a water-filled, lightless tank so that they experience near-total sensory deprivation, Bones?"

  "I'm familiar with the therapy, Jim."

  "Well, I just experienced the opposite extreme." He looked around the room. "Am I the only one who came through?"

  "No, Captain," Scott informed him. "There was a young lady as well. And there appeared to be at least two other figures, but for some reason the transporter malfunctioned and we couldn't hold them." He looked at the deck. "I fear they've gone to where no one can find them."

  "No, Scotty, and don't blame yourself. Your transporter didn't fail. Our friend Kumara was all set to have himself and the Delminnens beamed back to his ship while we supposedly sat around and waited for the big reunion. I inconveniently barged in on him as he was preparing to do just that.

  "As soon as he saw me he ordered his techs to beam himself and the Delminnens up. I didn't have time to do anything but make the same request of you, Scotty, and take a dive for the three of them, hoping our transporter could overpower theirs. Looks like it ended up a tie." He glanced over at Spock. "I see you got back safely Spock. Casualties?"

  "One injured, Captain," the first officer reported. "Not seriously."

  "Good. Maintain red alert. Where's the girl . . . Char Delminnen?"

  "In Sick Bay by now, Jim," McCoy explained. "She's suffering from shock also. I ran a quick test on her, and I suppose your shock was induced by the same thing. Some of your blood got switched around in all the transporting confusion—veins to arteries and vice versa. Your shock was induced by temporary oxygen starvation." He shook his head. "Wait till they read about that in the Starfleet Medical Journal."

  "Will she be all right?"

  "I expect so. She's probably coming out of it even as we're talking."

  "Captain . . .?" Scott looked pensive.

  "Yes, what is it, Scotty?"

  "You'll pardon me for sayin' so, but you took the devil of a chance intersectin' transporter fields like that. No wonder everythin' went overload. You could've had a lot more than your hemoglobin switched around."

  "I know, Scotty," Kirk replied solemnly. "I knew it at the time. But there was nothing else to do. At least Char Delminnen's safe."

  "Wonderful for her," McCoy noted bitterly, "but the one we came for is either dead or, more likely, on board the Klingon cruiser."

  "A situation we're going to have to rectify, Bones."

  "Message from the bridge, sir," came a call from an ensign standing by the wall intercom. Kirk hurried to take his position.

  "Transporter Room, Kirk here."

  Sulu's voice was excited, tense. "Captain, the Klingon cruiser appears to be picking up speed. Indications are she's retracing her original approach."

  "Lay in a tracking course, Mr. Sulu. Don't let her slow speed fool you—Kumara's trying to get into the shadow of the gas giant. If he can do that, he'll move to maximum speed immediately, before we can get a fix on him. Don't let him out of detector range."

  "Yes, sir!"

  Kirk moved to rejoin McCoy and Spock.

  "What is it, Jim?"

  "Van Delminnen's on board the Klingon ship all right. Kumara's now trying to sneak out of the system and run for cover. We're going after him, Bones."

  "Was that indicated in the orders, Captain?" wondered Spock.

  Kirk threw his first officer a hard look. "The orders were to bring back the Delminnens, Mr. Spock, utilizing whatever methods were necessary."

  "A blanket authorization with regard to the persons of the Delminnens, Captain," Spock persisted, "but does that justify pursuit of an enemy ship?"

  "They can quibble over the semantics later, Mr. Spock," Kirk declared. "After Van Delminnen is safely delivered to the nearest Starfleet base." He stalked toward the lift.

  A sudden surge rocked them as the lift op
ened onto the bridge. Kirk moved immediately to his command position while Spock took his place at the science station. McCoy hovered nearby, feeling helpless as usual, despite the benefits his presence always brought to a tense bridge.

  "Report, Mr. Sulu."

  "Captain, as soon as we started to move, they increased their speed slightly. I adjusted our own to match, at which point they accelerated again. Thanks to your warning, Mr. Arex and I anticipated it and matched velocity once more. We are still within detector range, traveling at warp-six." He checked a readout. "But we are not making up any distance on them."

  "I didn't expect we would be, Mr. Sulu," replied Kirk. "They're certain to be traveling at their maximum safe speed . . . for now. That's going to have to change. Mr. Spock?"

  "Yes, Captain?"

  "Did you discover anything in the Delminnen complex which might have been the weapon?"

  "Unfortunately, we never had the opportunity to look. Do not look alarmed, Captain—neither did the Klingons."

  Kirk relaxed visibly.

  "The Delminnen residence, laboratories, and any conceivable weapon were completely destroyed by a timed device planted by the Klingons soon after you entered the outer structure. We were unable to prevent the destruction. Considering the manner in which the Klingons departed, it seems reasonable to assume that the device was intended to detonate with all of us inside the complex. It seems rather wasteful. I am surprised the Klingons did not attempt to recover the device itself."

  "I'm not, Spock. Kumara never liked to take chances. Having captured one major piece, he opted to blow up the board. Obviously, he's convinced Delminnen can be persuaded to give him the plans for the device." He stared grimly at the starfield displayed on the main screen. "The Klingons can be most persuasive."

  He paused, mulling multiples of light over in his mind. "Spock, what is the nearest Klingon military base of importance in this region?"

  "A moment, Captain." Spock bent over the library computer and reported quickly. "According to what information we have, there is a naval base of considerable size on Shahkur Nine."

  "Do we have coordinates for said world?"

  "Yes, Captain. They are imprecise, however."

  "Hmm." Kirk turned to the helm. "Mr. Arex, assuming Shahkur lies at the closest possible point given by those imprecise stats, compute the time we can expect to have before ships from that world could be expected to rendezvous with Kumara—and with the Enterprise."

  Arex's triple hands worked busily at the navigation console, extrapolating from a simple yet crucial series of numbers. He expressed no worry, no excitement over the results. That was the Edoan way. Emotions were subdued, but not supressed as they were among the inhabitants of Vulcan.

  "Assuming both vessels maintain their current velocity, Captain, I give us no more than forty-eight standard hours."

  "Maximum?"

  "Given the restrictions of questionable coordinates for Shahkur . . . yes. That figure is for vessels of the Enterprise's class out from Shahkur. Lesser classes would take longer, of course."

  "But we can't assume they'll send lesser-class ships." He glanced back at Spock. "This Shahkur Nine is supposed to be a major base, Mr. Spock?"

  "Yes, Captain."

  Kirk looked resigned. "Then we'd better assume Kumara will meet additional cruisers in a couple of days. That gives us very little time to rescue Delminnen."

  "Or to kill him, Captain," reminded Spock quietly.

  Kirk's voice was flat. "Or to kill him."

  It was silent on the bridge for several of those forty-eight hours. Silent, but far from inactive, as Kirk and Spock considered the options open to them in the shrinking time available.

  The stillness was too much for McCoy, finally. He had checked half a dozen times on the condition of the injured security specialist and paid an equal number of visits to Char Delminnen—all a waste of time, as the specialist's injury was minor and Nurse Chapel had the woman under mild sedation.

  "Well, what are we going to do, Jim? We could call for help ourselves, but that would bring a Federation fleet into contact with a Klingon force of possibly equal size. Then we'd have a nice little interstellar war on our hands."

  "I know, Bones. That's why we're going to have to resolve this one alone, without help."

  "If we run into three or four Klingon cruisers, it'll be resolved all right," McCoy observed sardonically.

  "Captain," Spock began, "if I may suggest the obvious . . .?"

  Both men turned to look at him.

  "If we go to emergency power, we should be able to get within phaser range."

  "All we need for that to work, Spock, is to have a normal, belligerent, cocky commander on board the Klingon ship. Instead, we have to contend with Kumara. I tell you, Spock, we can't apply the usual standards here!

  "If we go to emergency power, you know what will happen? Kumara will laugh fit to split his collar. He would love to see us burn out our nacelles trying to get within phaser range. The moment we got close enough to tickle his tail, he’d go on emergency power and keep right on running until overload. Then we'd both drift along on impulse power with charred converters—straight toward Shahkur Nine and the oncoming Klingon relief force.

  "As much faith as I have in Scotty and his engineers, I can't risk that." Kirk's brow furrowed. "But Bones is right. We can't continue on like this without trying something. Let me know, Mr. Spock, how this sounds to you . . ."

  VI

  There was quiet jubilation on the bridge of the Klingon cruiser. Everyone on board knew that the mission had been partly successful. And if the presence of the peculiar human on board wasn't proof enough, the presence of the trailing Federation cruiser was.

  A certain amount of grumbling among the elder officers followed the commander's refusal to turn and engage their pursuer. Running away was alien to the soul of any Klingon warrior. But the younger officers harbored no such feelings, though they were as brave as their superiors. They realized that Commander Kumara's orders were best for the Empire, best for the ship and best for themselves.

  So they contented themselves with the knowledge that their pursuer was traveling under the impetus of mounting frustration.

  "Commander," the helmsman reported smartly, "the Federation ship is remaining constant relative to our position. Should we utilize emergency power to increase the distance between us?"

  "I'm rather fond of our present distance, Lieutenant Kritt, and see no reason to change it. We will maintain our present speed unless we are compelled to do otherwise, and we will maintain it without straining our resources. Restrain from public exhibition of your foolishness, and think."

  "I abase myself, Honored Commander," the helmsman replied as he strove to comprehend Kumara's point.

  For his part, the commander continued his idle study of the viewscreen. His rear scanners showed the pursuing Enterprise, only a distant, barely moving dot against the blackness of space—space which one day would be a part of the Empire, as the Great Gods intended it should be.

  "Lieutenant, there is a game humans play, a game Vulcans play. It is called chess. Ever hear of it?"

  Kritt turned from his console, confident that the heathen Federation ship was still a safe distance behind, and succeeded in looking earnestly puzzled.

  "A human game? Hardly, Commander. Why do you ask?"

  "I suspected you had not. Few of us have, preferring to languish in contempt of anything not Klingon; and that is much to be deplored. You might look it up in the archives sometime. The knowledge would do you good.

  "Were Captain Kirk and I presently to be engaged in such a game, I would say I have him dangerously in check, with the next move being his."

  "Ah," observed Kritt, brightening, "it is something like bagap, then?"

  Kumara considered, then indicated approval. "There are similarities, yes, though bagap is a much faster game. And chess is played with little wooden idols on a plastic or celluloid field, instead of with live slaves."
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  "It sounds very dull."

  "Be assured, it is not." Kumara's manner shifted abruptly from one of casual camaraderie and introspection to that of the complete dictator. "Under no circumstances are we to engage emergency power unless the Enterprise does so first! Make certain all concerned understand this implicitly!"

  "At once, Commander," Kritt shot back, relaxing now that his superior was once more the model of Klingon leadership . . .

  "Kumara," Kirk explained to the attentive Spock as McCoy listened in, "is difficult to surprise, but there's no reason to suppose that his subordinates are anything other than the usual Klingon ratings. That means they'll be contemptuous, secure in their present tactical position—and overconfident. I'm hoping that will also make them just lazy enough."

  "Lazy enough for what, Jim?" McCoy wondered.

  "You'll see. Mr. Spock, have the shuttlecraft readied for departure."

  Spock's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "The shuttlecraft, Captain?"

  "That's right. Make certain it's fully fueled."

  Spock moved to his library-science station and directed his words to the intercom pickup. "First Officer Spock to Shuttle Bay. Prepare Shuttle One for immediate flight." He looked back across at Kirk.

  "Pilot and course, Captain?"

  "There will be no pilot, Spock. The shuttle will run on automatics which will be guided by the Enterprise's battle computer."

  "Now I'm thoroughly confused, Jim," McCoy muttered.

  "With luck, the Klingons will be too, Bones. Mr. Arex, set a course for the shuttle: zero degrees inclination to plane of present course." Then he recited a plot which even McCoy was able to recognize.

  "But . . . that's our present course, Jim."

  Kirk smiled back at him. "I'm not fooling anyone, you see. The simplest device is often the best. Everyone keeps an eye out for the least obvious." He addressed the chair pickup. "Engineering?"

  "Engineering, Scott here. Are we goin' to make a run at them finally, Captain?"

  "After a fashion, Scotty. I'm going to want every milligram of push you can coax out of those engines in a few minutes. We're going to have to push them right to the limit."