Strange New Worlds IX Page 2

  “Not before you die first,” he said.

  He never heard or saw Kelinda sneak up behind him. Like I said, he was no soldier. One minute a paper-pushing propagandist standing before me brandishing a loaded weapon, the next minute a neat, compact dodecahedron lying at my feet.

  Kelinda walked over to me.

  “What should we do with him?” she asked.

  “Put him with the others,” I said.

  “We’re going to need a bigger barn at this rate,” she said.

  She picked Prefect Tamar up in one hand and started walking away.

  I watched the latest robot drone leave orbit. I lied to Tamar. The payload that rocket carried was far more explosive than any bomb I could build. It was a peace treaty between the United Federation of Planets and the Kelvan Empire, signed, dated, and enacted over three hundred years ago by the highest-ranking officials both sides could muster, the Federation president and myself, Commander Rojan of Kelva.

  A Bad Day for Koloth

  David DeLee

  Koloth stormed across the bridge of the I.K.S. Gr’oth. His boots thundered on the deck plating with the wrath of Kahless himself. At least the blood-red lighting and muted brown bulkheads soothed his aching eyes. The damned Federation station had been so bright…and cheery.

  “Helm!” he barked. His gaze fell on Space Station K-7 displayed on the screen and he waved an angry hand. “Get us out of here.”

  Korax glanced over his shoulder like a whipped targ. “Destination?”

  “Anywhere away from here. Away from that damned station. Away from Sherman’s Planet. Away from quadrotriticale. Away from that pahtk Darvin. Away from Kirk.” Koloth stepped up onto the platform of the command chair. “And especially away from those damned tribbles.”

  “Yes, Captain.” Korax turned and laid in a course…to somewhere.

  Relieved to be done with K-7 and the puny, soft humans, Koloth dropped into the hard, sharply angled command chair.

  And a tribble squealed.

  “By the Sword of Kahless!” Koloth jumped away. Spinning, he drew his disruptor. In the corner of his seat a brown and white tribble sat trembling.

  He fired.

  The beam lanced out, struck the chair. Sparks flew and the chair spun around like a child’s top. Alarms sounded. When the wisp of smoke cleared the chair was scorched black, and the tribble was gone.

  Vaporized.

  Koloth grunted with a satisfied nod. Careful to avoid his wrath, Korax and Grotok, the navigator, spun back to examine their consoles. Holstering his weapon, Koloth surveyed the bridge. All of his officers were carefully examining their consoles. Good.

  He sat back down, resisting the urge to check his seat before doing so. The metal was warm. He ran a hand over the singed arm. It felt like battle, like victory.

  “Take us to Qo’noS, helm.” He had finally made his decision as to their destination.

  “As you wish, Captain.”

  Koloth settled in for the long trip home, already composing his report for the High Council. Devising how to present the details of Darvin’s failure and how, by his own quick actions, he saved the Empire from an embarrassing intergalactic incident with the cursed Federation.

  Yes. He could salvage this, turn this defeat into a victory. Even though he’d failed to secure the right to Sherman’s Planet, after they review his report, no one could blame him for what happened.

  If not for the damned tribbles, the planet would have been theirs. Bah! It was the Council’s own damned fault. Subterfuge. Poison. Spies. They were acting like…like Romulans. If they wanted Sherman’s Planet they should have taken it by force and won it in glorious battle.

  His hearts skipped a few beats when he heard it.

  At first he thought it was the thrumming of the engines. Perhaps a bit off cycle, but there it was again. A soft, soothing trill. He shuddered. He looked around until he found the offensive beast.

  There at the base of Korax’s chair, he saw it sitting beside his boot.

  Koloth stood. Took a step forward. He dropped first to one knee. Then the other. Bent…and lunged.

  Korax jumped from his chair. He stared at Koloth, who was prone on the deck, with his head and arms buried under the helmsman’s chair. “Captain?”

  Koloth backed away on his elbows and knees, his hands cupped in front of him. From them came a high-pitched squeal. Climbing to his feet, Koloth opened his hands and displayed a round, furry tribble. It was brown and white. A patch of its hair was singed black. The one he had shot? Could he have missed?

  The feel of it angrily twitching in his hand sent shivers down his spine. He shoved it at Korax. “Explain this!”

  It convulsed in his hands. Squealing.

  Korax backed up. “I…I don’t know.”

  Koloth spotted another tribble over Korax’s shoulder. It cowered in the corner of the secondary tactical console. “And that!”

  He stormed over. The tribble—bright red—hopped, chirring agitatedly. Another one rolled out from under the console, scampered away. And there was yet another one next to the turbolift door.

  The turbolift opened. Bel’kor, his chief engineer, stepped onto the bridge with an armful of tribbles. The pile of fur jumped and squawked and chirped and leaped from his arms.

  “Captain. The engine room. It’s full of them. They’re in the machinery.”

  Koloth held the brown-and-white one up and looked at it. “Where? How?”

  “The Enterprise. The pahtks beamed them in.”

  “Then beam them back.”

  “I can’t. They’re out of range.”

  Koloth swore. “Kirk!”

  He dropped into his chair, slammed the tribble he was holding into the pile of skittering beasts in Bel’kor’s arms. He juggled the jumbling armload, only losing a few.

  “Get them off the ship. Beam them into space if you have to.”

  “We tried. The transporters are offline. So are environmental, fire suppression, intership communications. They’re into the machinery. Shipwide.”

  Koloth leaned his elbows on the arms of his chair, interlocked his fingers together, thinking. He jerked his head up. “Gas them.”

  Bel’kor shook his head, oily black hair fell in his face. “Vent controls are offline. Can’t do it without killing us too.”

  Smashing his fist Koloth slammed back in his chair. “There must be something—”

  “Priority message from Qo’noS, Captain,” Grotok called out. “Audio only.”

  Koloth waved for him to play it.

  “I.K.S. Gr’oth. Reverse course. You are carrying dangerous contaminants and are in violation of health and ecological protection codes. You will not be permitted access into Klingon space. Reverse course immediately or risk being fired upon.”

  Koloth was half out of his chair again. “What?”

  “Shall I replay it, Captain?” Grotok asked.

  “No, pahtk! I heard them!” Banished from Klingon space. Incredible. Unheard of.

  “Get them off the ship.” Koloth waved his arms. “Hunt them down with targs. Shoot them all with disruptors. Open the damn airlocks and eject them into space. I don’t care. Just get rid of every last one of them. Now!”

  He stormed for the turbolift. Stepped inside, and kicked a tribble out onto the bridge just before the doors swooshed shut.

  Koloth tossed and turned. His booted feet banged on the hard surface of his bunk. He shifted to his side. Flopped onto his back again. Sleep escaped him as surely as did a solution to his tribble problem.

  With a growl he slammed his fist into the duranium and sat up. Disgusted. The bunk felt as soft as…as a mattress.

  He got up and crossed to the other side of his quarters. “Activate viewscreen.”

  A wall-mounted viewer snapped on. Static-filled at first, it soon cleared. Staring back at him was the grinning face of his good friend, Captain Kang.

  “Koloth! So good of you to call. I heard of your predicament. A terrible thing,” he
said, but the laughter in his voice belied any true concern he felt.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself at my expense, dear friend.” Koloth considered cutting the transmission. Calling Kang had been a mistake.

  “No. No. Hold on, my friend,” Kang said, holding up a hand. “What good is friendship if we cannot get under each other’s hide now and again? What do you ask of me?”

  “All I ask is for a solution. How do I exterminate these vermin from my ship?”

  Kang took on a thoughtful look. “I truly am sorry, my friend. I find I too am at a loss. It seems you have tried everything.”

  Koloth was forced to agree. He selected a quart of bloodwine from the food slot, removed the tin cup when the door opened. “Join me then in drink.”

  He hoisted his cup. Kang burst out in laughter.

  On top of his cup sat a bloated brown-and-white tribble. A patch of its fur singed black.

  Koloth flung the cup across the room. It bounced off the wall and rolled across the hard metal deck. Splashed bloodwine dripped thickly down the wall. It was not the first time bloodwine, or blood for that matter, had been spilled in these quarters.

  The tribble squealed in surprise or pain and wobbled erratically across the floor.

  When Kang had finished laughing, he slapped a gloved hand against his knees. “What you need, my friend, is a battle. A glorious battle to lift your spirits and take your mind off your tribbles.”

  Kang belched out another deep, throaty laugh.

  “K’adio,” Koloth growled, dripping with sarcasm. Thank you for nothing. He snapped off the viewer, unable to shut off Kang’s laughing image from inside his head.

  A battle would be glorious. The feel of a bat’leth whistling through the air. The taste of disruptor fire in the air. The smell of scorched burning flesh, of an enemy he could fight. Hot spilled blood filling the street of an enemy city, or flowing down the corridors of an enemy ship.

  And that was when it struck him. A battle.

  He picked up the little, singed, brown-and-white tribble from the shelf under the viewer. The one that kept turning up around him like—what was the Earthers’ expression—like a bad penny.

  “Of course. The perfect solution,” he said, grinning at the squirming tribble. “A glorious battle.”

  “Four Tholian fighters. Dead ahead,” Korax called out.

  Koloth leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the four yellowish ships. They were triangular in shape and small, but Koloth knew not to underestimate the Tholians. They had proven themselves worthy opponents in the past. Today, he was counting on them to be as cutthroat as they had been before.

  Koloth rose. “Battle stations! Grotok, on my command decloak and raise shields.”

  Grotok nodded.

  “Captain,” the voice came from Bel’kor. “Shields are only at seventy-three percent. Several power conduits were damaged by the tribbles.”

  “Your incompetence has been noted.”

  Bel’kor started to reply, then thought better of it. He brushed a skittering black tribble off his console. It hit the deck with a yelp and scurried off.

  “Engage the enemy!” Koloth sat at the edge of his chair, a forearm resting on his leg. His gloved fist clenched. “Tactical! Full photon spread!”

  He felt the Gr’oth shudder with the launch of the torpedoes.

  Two struck Tholian ships. Their shields flashed, absorbing the energy and impact. The four ships continued on their approach, spreading their formation wider.

  “Minimal damage,” Korax announced.

  “It is of no concern. They will soon feel the might of the Klingon Empire.”

  “They’re powering up weapons. Maneuvering in an attack formation.”

  Koloth’s eyes flicked back and forth watching each of the four ships. One, two experienced Tholian fighters they could take on easily, three possibly. But four? That was the stuff of story and song.

  Several tribbles huddled at his feet. Their little bodies swaying. They cooed excitedly.

  The Gr’oth rocked. Koloth squinted at the flash of light on the viewscreen. It was currently displaying a simple phaser barrage. One that was easily deflected.

  “Shields down to fifty-two percent.”

  “Return fire!” Koloth pounded the arm of his chair. “Target their lead ship.”

  Two of the triangular ships peeled off to the left. A string of energy pulses stitched the side of the Gr’oth. Korax fired two torpedoes. Both struck their targets.

  “Their shields are down!”

  “Fire disruptors! Tight concentration.”

  Korax engaged his weapons and the nearest Tholian ship burst into a fireball instantly.

  The Gr’oth wasn’t to get off easily though. The fight was still only beginning. The remaining three fighters strafed them. The D-7 slammed down like a foot stomping on a bug. As Bel’kor tumbled from his seat, his auxiliary engineering station exploded.

  Alarms and smoke filled the bridge.

  “Evasive maneuvers!” Koloth was on his feet, leaning between Korax and Grotok. He glanced down at the astrogator trying to get a fix on the remaining three fighters. A tribble sat on the glowing grid. Koloth swatted it away.

  “There!” He pointed at one of the glowing dots. “Coordinates seven-five-nine-nine-three point one. Two torpedoes. Fire now!”

  “Target locked.” Korax jabbed the firing button.

  “Direct hit.” Grotok clenched a fist. “A glorious hit. They are venting plasma.”

  Bel’kor had taken up a position at auxiliary tactical. He turned in his seat to face Koloth. “Incoming message from the Tholians. Audio.”

  Koloth straightened. “Play it.”

  “You are violating Tholian space. You have committed an unprovoked attack against the Tholian Assembly. Surrender or be destroyed.”

  That they had violated Tholian space was true enough, but surrender was not part of the plan. Koloth returned to his chair, targeting one of the fighters himself. He punched the Fire button with the flat of his fist.

  The swift moving fighter dodged the spiraling torpedoes.

  Charging to the port and starboard sides, the enemy ships strafed the—by comparison—lumbering Gr’oth.

  The ship pitched to the left, throwing most of the bridge crew to the deck. Koloth managed to keep from sliding out of his chair, but just barely. Several tribbles rolled across the deck.

  The lights flickered. A panel exploded. Its cover pinwheeled across the bridge. Flames licked up the curved bulkhead.

  “Auxiliary power!” Bel’kor shouted. “Shields are gone.”

  “Return fire! Return fire!”

  “Returning fire,” Korax acknowledged the order.

  “Hull breaches on decks two, three, seven. Additional fractures along the port nacelle.”

  Smoke thickened the air. Emergency lights illuminated and shone through the drifting, swirling gray. The bridge crew became darting, indistinguishable shadows. Alarms wailed.

  It was time.

  “Helm. Contact the I.K.S. SuvwI’.”

  A few minutes later Kang’s face loomed large on the static-filled viewscreen. He grinned a toothy grin. “So, you took my advice and found a fight.”

  “We did. And a glorious fight it is.”

  Kang looked skeptical. “You appear to be on the losing side of it.”

  “You underestimate me, my friend. Already two Tholian ships are destroyed. Two more are in my sights.”

  “Impressive indeed. Why then are you calling me?”

  The Gr’oth shook. The bulkhead groaned loudly; then a girder let loose, swinging down across the bridge like a pendulum. Its jagged end bit into the deck.

  “All great battles have their cost, Kang. The cost of this one is the great ship Gr’oth.” Koloth looked around the bridge.

  His gaze fell on a tribble crawling across the deck. He kicked at it, looked back up to Kang. “A ship they will sing about from here to Sto-Vo-Kor.”

  “A warrior’s way
,” Kang agreed. “We shall be there shortly.”

  Now to keep the Tholians at bay until the SuvwI’ could arrive. A task that proved harder than Koloth would’ve liked.

  “They’re in attack formation.”

  “Prepare torpedoes.”

  “Captain! Torpedo bay doors are malfunctioning.” Korax glanced over his shoulder with panic in his eyes.

  “What?” Koloth was on his feet again. “Bel’kor?”

  He searched for the engineer in the dim hazy smoke. A vague shadow stepped forward. “It’s the tribbles. They’re disrupting power conduits on almost every deck.”

  Koloth glanced at the astrogator. The two dots representing the Tholian fighters glowed bright, showed they were moving on a closing vector. With only disruptors available, staving off an attack was impossible.

  “Tactical. Target and fire at will.”

  Koloth watched the approaching ships on the viewscreen. Had he miscalculated? Had he contacted Kang too late?

  Phasers fired from the belly of the D-7.

  The Tholian shields glowed and held. Their forward weapons sections glowed too, resulting in phasers lancing out across the expanse of space.

  Koloth braced for impact. On the deck at his feet a brown-and-white tribble rocked with the swaying ship. The one he’d shot. The singed mark clear as day. It sat, mocking him. He was sure of it.

  The phasers struck. Slicing through the hull. Sparks and melted metal poured through into the bridge. Somewhere, someone screamed. Koloth couldn’t tell who it was.

  Then miraculously the assault stopped.

  Koloth glanced at the viewscreen. The SuvwI’ had arrived. Passing one Tholian fighter, disruptors were flaring its shields to a bright yellow. A volley of torpedoes finished the job of taking out its shields.

  “Captain Koloth.” Kang’s voice. “Prepare to beam your crew to the SuvwI’.”

  Koloth smiled. “Transporters are offline. Need you to initiate.”

  “So I’m here to do all the work, is that it?”