"She's my woman!" Kaas howled, not wanting to be distracted by facts. Most of his body weight was behind the wild swing he took at the doctor.
McCoy dodged the worst of it, still caught Kaas' fist in the side. He stumbled backward, over went a table laden with food and drink with a nerve-tingling crash. The taped music continued but now every eye in the room turned to them; every conversation ceased.
No one, not even the two security guards at the door, noticed the long-forgotten Kali slip out of the room through an open service hatch.
Gratified at the ease with which he had bowled over his unsuspecting opponent and not wanting to waste the opportunity, Kaas moved in quickly, hoping to get in a few damaging blows before they were separated.
He underestimated McCoy—a characteristic common to anyone who had ever fought the doctor hand to hand. McCoy had been knocked off balance, but he was more surprised by the sudden assault than hurt. And if his present condition was not analytical, it made him plenty combative.
He hit the first officer of the Klothos low, ramming his head into the other's midsection and knocking the wind out of him. Grappling wildly, the two officers rolled over and over on the floor.
McCoy flailed away with enough enthusiasm to keep the frustrated, furious Kaas from either doing any damage or getting free. One wild elbow even caught the Klingon officer under the bridge of his nose, an exceptionally painful jolt that started blood flowing.
It was Kirk who got his arms around McCoy's shoulders and dragged him off Kaas.
"Bones, stop it!" McCoy was still weaving on his feet. "What the blazes happened?"
Kaas climbed to his feet. That's when he first noticed the blood trailing from his nose. At the sight of that, he forgot what he was doing on the floor, forgot his position, forgot everything.
He went for his concealed disruptor pistol.
"Stop!" came a booming voice from the back of the room. Xerius' commanding tone. Kaas didn't hear him, just as he didn't hear Kor's frantic cry of "Khaba dej', Kaas!" or the curse that followed. Roughly translated, it meant, "The idiot will ruin everything!"
Kor ran toward his first officer . . . too late, he saw. The disruptor was already out and aimed at the two humans. Before anyone had a chance to reach Kaas, he fired.
The killing bolt faded into the air centimeters from McCoy's chest.
Kaas, startled not only by the failure of his pistol but by the sudden realization of what he had done, stared in confusion at the useless weapon. Before he could decide to fire, put the gun away, or do anything, Kor wrenched it from him. The first officer looked up slowly into his commander's eyes.
A milky gaze was fading rapidly from Kaas' corneas. He had been in a berserker frenzy. Kor struggled to control his own emotions. Not the first officer's fault, really, considering that the other had unexpectedly drawn blood.
But what a time to let a little blood intervene!
"Captain Kirk and Commander Kor, and these two," intoned Xerius solemnly, "will come to the council chamber in two minutes to face charges." There was a flash . . . several flashes. When Kirk and the others looked around, every member of the Elysian council had vanished.
The celebration had come to an end.
A low babble of conversation resumed in the room . . . low and concerned. All hint of the enforced pleasantries of moments ago was gone. Members of the two crews now had something real to talk about—a common threat of unknown dimension.
Kali did not participate, however. By then she had successfully made her way into the central computer room of the Enterprise, avoiding the depleted security forces.
Using a packet of compact tools taken from another pocket, she removed a certain panel buried far back in the main complex. The components visible beyond the panel pulsed with faint, miniature auroras, by-products of the energies flowing through them.
The tablet-sized machine slid neatly into place, well back among a maze of interlocking circuitry. The device would have been even better located in one of the engine rooms, but security was impenetrable. According to the schematics on board the Klothos, this was the closest she could get without being challenged.
Engineer Kanff had calculated it would be more than close enough.
No one saw her replace the panel or leave the room. A dozen or so technicians, some from the Enterprise, some from the Klothos, were passing through the nearest corridor, moving to a new work area. Kali blended in neatly with them.
When they reached the work section, she joined two of her shipmates and fell to assisting them as best she could. They eyed her strangely, but said nothing. It was not meet to question the actions of a superior officer. They went silently about their business.
She had successfully carried out the crucial part of her mission. Now it remained only for her to wait and enjoy the spectacle to come.
There was no time to try and rig any kind of protective defensive field. It probably would not have been of much value. Previous experience had demonstrated that whatever transporter the Elysians possessed, it was perfectly capable of plucking any member of the crew off either the Enterprise or the Klothos any time the council wished.
So it was that once again Kirk and Kor, now accompanied by first officer Kaas and Dr. McCoy, found themselves standing in the cathedral-like council chamber before the assembled Elysians.
There was no attempt at explanation this time, no effort to make the visitors feel at ease. The enmity coming from the council was almost palpable. A feeling of decision that Kirk found frightening, hung in the air. There was to be no discussion or trial here. A decision of some sort had already been made.
In a place where there was an excess of only time, Xerius' speech was brief. "You have been informed. You have been warned. You have been instructed. And you know that any exercise of violence against another intelligent being is forbidden here." He glared at Kor.
"Your man began the fight and attempted to kill." Xerius looked around at his fellow council members. "I formally propose as penalty that we suspend the Klothos and its crew for a century of their time."
All his carefully constructed struts and buttresses supporting an intricately wrought plan had neatly been kicked out from under him when Kaas had lost his temper. Now Kor saw the foundation crumbling.
"My first officer was provoked," he protested, trying to project an air of outraged innocence. The excuse sounded lame. Xerius treated it with contempt.
"He attempted to kill—and would have, had we not prevented it at the final moment. There is no lesser penalty for such a crime."
"But I didn't know," Kaas objected. "I lost control of myself, saw only . . ."
"That will be enough," warned Xerius sharply. "You have spoken already . . . with your actions."
"May I say something, then?" Kirk asked.
"You may, Captain Kirk."
He took a step toward the dais, thinking rapidly. As a starship command flight officer he was required to know a fair amount of law, but that had never been one of his favorite subjects at the Academy, though he had done well in it. With his no-nonsense analytical approach, Spock had the better courtroom manner.
But Spock was not here. Kirk would have to argue his case as best he could, alone.
"Captain Kor and I—as you probably know—are going to try and break through the time-space barrier tomorrow. If you put the Klothos and its crew into suspension, you'll be punishing us as much as them. We can't leave as a single ship.
"I implore you to let our dual craft make this attempt as we've planned."
"This futile attempt at escape is so important to you?" Xerius was saying. "Despite what we have told you, that it is foredoomed to failure?"
"I repeat, we don't share your eternal pessimism. However you choose to see it . . . yes, it's that important to us."
"You will fail."
"We must try," Kirk pressed desperately. "Xerius," he went on, hoping the council leader didn't think he was being lectured, "in many respects, Elysia is a per
fect society. It had endured a thousand years and proven that when given a chance, the most antagonistic peoples can live together in peace." And when given no other choice, he thought.
"But with all its virtues, it's not home. And with all its faults, we would prefer to return to our own continuum."
Far down the dais, Devna was heard to murmur, "As would many of us."
Xerius pretended not to hear.
"You insist on taking these would-be murderers with you?"
"I'd be lying if I didn't admit that Commander Kor and I regard each other with something less than brotherly affection," he admitted. Kor smiled toothily.
"But sometimes an injured man has to take medication that's not very pleasant, yet necessary to his survival. That's my situation regarding the Klothos."
Kirk's argument was simple and logically irrefutable. And so, after studying both men for several long moments, Xerius gave a reluctant nod.
"Very well. I release Commander Kor and First Officer Kaas into your custody, Captain Kirk." He looked sternly at both Klingons. "After your absurd escape attempt fails, the penalty will be carried out—should you survive."
Kor forced himself to fight down his triumphant smile and look nominally repentant. It wasn't too hard. If the Vulcan Spock's calculations proved inaccurate, the penalty might just as well be carried out. Better to sleep than be forced to endure an eternity of this repugnant civility—especially with humans and other Federation grass eaters!
"Lest you believe we think you ill fortune, I wish you good luck, Captain Kirk," the council leader finished.
"Preparations are completed," Kor announced.
Kirk looked up at the viewscreen. The image of Commander Kor stared back at him from his position on the bridge of the Klothos. A precision universal chronometer was mounted on one arm of the Klingon commander's chair and was synchronized to the one on the Enterprise. They had finished the conjoining work with several hours to spare.
"Ready here." Kirk turned his attention to the rising black band on the chair chronometer, watched it reach a preset numeral. At the instant it did so, there was a buzz from the helm. A preliminary check, successful. Helm and navigation instrumentation on both ships were properly linked.
"Manual timing checks," Kirk reported.
Now nothing was left but to feed power to test Spock's theory.
Sulu was watching him, waiting.
"Prepare to accelerate to warp-six, Mr. Sulu."
"Standing by, sir."
"Ready to compute subordinate corrections if required, Captain," Arex said crisply.
"Communications standing by," Uhura added.
"Computer backup ready." Spock, relaxed, at ease.
Kirk glanced down at the chronometer set in his own chair-arm, silently counted off the seconds: three, two, one, accelerate.
A barely perceptible vibration ran through the deck as preset automatics took over and the linked ships suddenly leaped ahead, accelerating steadily.
Two members of the Elysian council stood in the otherwise deserted chamber and stared at the flowmetal screen which had appeared behind the council dais. Long-range monitors mounted on long-abandoned craft kept the Enterprise-Klothos in sight as it moved out of the ship cluster.
Devna and Xerius stared at the picture. As they watched, a third counselor entered, eyes going to the screen. Silver cataracts slid over Megan's eyes as her gaze reached outward.
"Escape," she mumbled. "All are concentrating on escape. Their ships move ever faster.
"Kirk of the Enterprise expresses confidence in the work of his technicians and engineers, in the ability of his first officer.
"Kor of the Klothos, too, exudes confidence in his personnel and in . . ."
Both hands went to her temples. She stumbled backward.
"No! The Klingons—have hidden an explosive device aboard the Enterprise. The picture is in Commander Kor's mind. She will be destroyed. She will . . ."
Xerius and Devna came out of shock simultaneously. It was the council speaker who moved first, clutched at the controls of the concealed microphone. Spoke frantically while staring at the screen.
"Intership emergency, intership emergency!"
"Power Control acknowledges, Speaker," a voice responded.
"Full broadcast to the fleeing starships, tight-beam message to the Enterprise."
There was a pause, then . . . "Probing, Xerius. They do not answer."
"Keep trying . . . give me an open channel. Enterprise, this is Speaker Xerius. Respond, Enterprise! You are in . . ."
Descent into the Maelstrom, Kirk mused as the whirlpool of light that delineated the space-time barrier appeared on the screen. A wavering cyclone of force they were rushing toward.
Unconsciously, both hands dug tighter into the arms of the command chair. True, the Klothos had tried the barrier, been rejected, and survived. But perhaps they were moving so supremely fast that this time the barrier would reject them with less care. His grip didn't relax.
"Warp-seven, Captain," Sulu reported.
"Everyone brace for resistance as we contact the barrier field," Kirk ordered unnecessarily.
"Sir!" Uhura's voice. "Xerius is trying to contact us. The call is coming on an emergency frequency."
"Put it on the main speaker, Lieutenant." She nudged a switch, and the speaker's voice immediately sounded on the bridge.
"Captain Kirk, the Klingons have secreted an explosive device of small size but tremendous triggering power in your . . . in your computer chambers. Megan reports it is located at . . . a moment . . . she is attempting to read . . ."
The intercom went silent. Kirk's stomach was doing acrobatics.
"It is located," the speaker said, voice contact returning, "in the casement housing auxiliary power leads to the drive chamber. It will activate when you reach warp-eight. If it is not removed before then, it cannot be deactivated. It must then be removed carefully, according to Megan's reading of its internal structure, or . . . (fizzle, sput) . . . racinatio . . ."
"Outer fringe of the barrier is disrupting communications, sir," Uhura reported.
"Stay with it, Lieutenant. Spock, Scotty." Both officers were already halfway to the elevator. Kirk punched a switch on his chair console.
"Computer room . . . Captain speaking . . . give me the tech in charge."
Brief pause, then, "Rodino here, Captain."
"Commander Spock and the chief are on their way back there to perform some surgery. Remove all access plates to the drive power leads, auxiliary casement. Don't touch anything else . . . move, Rodino."
"Computer out," came the fast reply.
While the attention of the Enterprise's command was otherwise engaged, their counterparts on the Klothos were intent on the main viewscreen. Their alert system had begun to sound, as it had once before only a few days ago.
"Approaching warp-eight, Exalted One," Kaas noted from his position at the science station.
A new sound began to penetrate the bridge, a sound Kor had listened to recently—just prior to being thrown into unconsciousness. A high, wailing roar generated by forces which existed in contempt of all natural law. A wild, thunderous moan which once heard was never to be forgotten. Not by Kor, nor by any member of the Enterprise's crew, now subjected to the same buffeting.
"The barrier," the commander muttered, staring at the light storm ahead. They were close to it, now.
"He didn't specify which auxiliary leads it was behind, damn it," Scott rumbled tightly. Shoving the startled Rodino aside, the chief engineer had gone through the first such section. With blatant disregard for everything the manual said and for years of training, he ripped at connections and leads, oblivious to the chances of shock or to the damage he was doing.
The first panel he searched showed nothing, nor the second. Delicate circuitry was shoved aside by the small combination tool in his right hand. He started in on the third, nudging aside a minor knot of microcircuits, probably deactivating someone's favorite ent
ertainment channel.
That could be fixed . . . later. Right now he wanted a look a little deeper into the casement. Something seemed to be reflecting a touch too much light back there. Then he saw it. A small cylindrical section about the size and shape of a large pill.
"There it is, Spock. I'll hold the lines aside."
Spock dropped to his knees as Scott moved slightly aside. Spock moved his arm into the opening. Gently, two fingers slid around the tablet, lifted, pulled it slowly from its resting place by a double-fluid circuit.
He had it.
Seconds later, both men were standing, examining the compact device. Spock imprinted its exterior design, consistency, weight, color, shape in his mind for future study. Then he moved to a boldly marked slot at the far end of the chamber. A disposal niche.
There were three switches set in the wall beside it. One labeled DISINTEGRATE, the second marked RECYCLE and the third, was covered by a snapdown protective top.
Spock flipped the red plastic up and placed the innocuous-seeming tablet in the open niche. Then he pressed the uncovered button. The red label alongside it read: POWER EJECT.
Despite the coolness on the bridge, Kirk found he was sweating. A vibration that did not come from the engines now rattled the deck beneath them, shook the arms of his chair where he gripped it. A teeth-scratching screech screamed over the speakers and seemed to dig into his bones, despite Uhura's attempts to moderate it.
There was a sudden sharp jolt. Inside his skull a little voice chuckled, said, "Nice try, James T. . . . goodbye . . ."
Then without any warning, the vibration stopped, the high-pitched wail trailed off into a drifting sigh, and the view forward became awesomely normal—a vision of familiar stars and nebulae. The view was infinitely more glorious than the claustrophobic immortality they had left behind.
As prearranged, a single relay snapped over on board both ships. It begat a multitude of tiny clicks and snaps as beams, cables, and plates parted—sometimes softly, other times with the aid of tiny explosive bolts.
The Enterprise-Klothos fissioned, each half arching off in opposite directions.