The Rings Of Tautee Page 4

  At any minute, it might topple on her.

  But she faced that same threat inside the amphitheater.

  It was time for her to move. Time for her to go to Folle.

  If he still lived.

  She took another deep breath of the dust-caked air. Her throat was dry. Folle had brought her food and water the last two days. She had done nothing to survive. And now he wasn’t thinking of her at all.

  She would go to the communications center. If he wasn’t there, working on the signal—well, she would worry about that then.

  At first, as she made her way down the corridor, she tried to pretend to walk. But that was like walking in neck-deep water. Her body wanted to float. It was hard to stay on the ground. The designers had built railings for the times when the gravity ran out, but most of the railings had been dislodged in the destruction.

  Finally, she gave in, jumped forward, and kept one hand above her so that she didn’t rise too high and hit her head on the ceiling.

  The trip went quickly.

  Most of the doors were closed or off their hinges, the emergency lighting obscured by clouds of dust that followed her. She was starting to understand why Folle had been picking small metal objects out of the air and putting them in his pockets. She had dodged more than one piece of metal. Another slammed her in the head. She hadn’t been traveling very fast and the piece of metal had been coming at her at an even slower speed, but the combination of her speed and the metal’s speed caused a collision that left a cut on her scalp.

  A few small droplets of blood floated away as she quickly ripped a small piece of cloth off her pants leg and held it against the wound. It didn’t really hurt. It was just annoying, because it functioned as a reminder that she was still alive when so many others weren’t.

  She was almost to the communications room when the station started vibrating. The railing beside her banged against the wall, sending a clanging through the narrow passage. More debris floated by, this time at quicker speeds. She wedged herself into a corner, hoping that nothing would fall on her, nothing would hit her.

  Then the vibrating stopped.

  As it always did.

  She knew some time soon it wouldn’t stop.

  She clung to the steel walls for a moment, shaken, her eyes so dry that they hurt. She felt different from the way she had before, and she wasn’t sure why.

  Until she realized.

  She had protected herself.

  For the first time since she watched the first planet shatter, she had taken care of herself. Instead of acquiescing to her death, she had actually tried to prevent it.

  She wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.

  She pushed a loose strand of hair off her face, and wiped the dust from her nose. Her skin was caked in dirt. Her hair was probably silver with debris. Her clothing was in shreds.

  And there was nothing she could do to change any of it.

  She continued to make her way toward the communications room. The corridor widened near it. The door was open, and the light from inside seemed brighter.

  Maybe that was because she knew there were people inside.

  She used the door to lever herself inside.

  Three of her officers crowded around one lone console panel. The other consoles were on their sides, shattered, or ripped open for parts. Some of the bolted chairs remained in place. Others were shoved against the consoles, braced so that they wouldn’t float free in the low gravity.

  Folle had his thin frame in the only chair in front of the console, and beside him Carad and Rogaur floated, watching. Both still wore their white lab coats, now stained with dust and black streaks. Carad’s bald head had a nasty cut across the top that made her remember her own. She again tapped it with the scrap of cloth. It seemed the wound was clotting or filling with dust. For the moment either would work.

  The communications panel in front of the three men was the only panel in the room showing any power. Folle was typing something on the panel.

  “Did you have some luck?” she asked, floating up to the back of Folle’s chair and pulling herself down into a standing position.

  Folle started as if he had heard a ghost. He glanced over his shoulder at her. And then he smiled, the look full of warmth and welcome.

  “We think we’re sending on ten different bands,” he said, as if her presence was not unusual, “but we have no way of knowing for sure. But we have to constantly keep inputting the data to keep it running.”

  “How long did it take you to get the signal running?”

  “A while,” Folle said. “I’m sorry I forgot to bring you supplies. I lost track of the time.”

  “That’s fine,” she said. Carad glanced at her as if surprised that Folle had been taking care of her. “I’m out now. I’ll manage just fine.”

  “I knew you would,” Folle said. He had returned his attention to the console. Somehow, it had become more important than she was. She wondered when that had happened.

  “You really think this will work?” she asked, hearing and wincing at the hope in her own voice.

  “In order for people to find us, they have to know we’re here.”

  What people? she wanted to ask, but she didn’t. They were busy. They weren’t brooding. They would spend their last few days well, instead of feeling sorry for themselves like she was.

  Like she was.

  Oh, hell. It was time she started taking care of herself as well. Death wasn’t coming as quickly or as easily as she would like. It was her philosophy professor at the Studies Center who had said it was better for a person to live in perfect understanding of his crime than to die for that crime in complete ignorance.

  She finally understood what the professor had meant.

  He had meant there were times when living was a greater torture than dying.

  It was time to accept her fate.

  “I’m going back to the observation room. Maybe I can get something working there. If there’s someone out there, maybe I’ll find them.” She let go of Folle’s chair. “Keep me posted.”

  The men knew she had no chance of getting any of the observation equipment running again, just as she knew their signal had no hope. But like her they didn’t say anything.

  “Good luck,” Folle said without turning away from his work.

  “You too.” She pushed off slowly for the door. Better to keep busy than to brood. The only difference was Folle had himself convinced that some mythical rescuer would appear.

  She knew rescue was impossible.

  The only people left alive in the entire universe were in this station, as trapped as she was.

  And when the center broke open, as it inevitably would, they would all die.

  Together.

  Chapter Eight

  CAPTAIN BOGLE remained in his captain’s chair, fingers gripping the arms. These subspace waves disturbed him, in more ways than one. If they could destroy a planet, they could destroy a ship. And he didn’t like putting his ship and crew in unnecessary danger at any time.

  He was having his officers monitor the waves to see if they were growing in intensity. And also to discover any other information they could about them.

  Kirk’s interaction with the Klingons bothered him too. Something about the interchange hadn’t seemed right. Kirk had done fine considering the Klingon’s hostility, but it seemed as if Kirk’s ego had gotten in the way.

  “The Enterprise is hailing us, sir,” Ensign Gustavus said.

  “Put it on screen,” Bogle said.

  He stood as Kirk’s face filled the screen. Kirk looked just as tousled as he had the last time they’d talked. Bogle imagined he didn’t look much better since they’d ridden out three of the subspace waves now.

  “Nice job with the Klingons,” Bogle said, not smiling.

  Kirk smiled and half laughed. “They always love my charm.” Then Kirk’s smile faded. “My science officer and chief engineer have a way to get us inside the system. To where that sign
al is coming from.”

  “Do they have a way back out?” Bogle said.

  “We’ll get out.” Kirk sounded impatient. He clearly had a plan and wanted to tell Bogle about it.

  Bogle motioned for his science officer, Lee, to join him. “You think we should respond to that emergency signal we’ve been picking up?”

  “The signal started after we appeared,” Kirk said.

  “It could have been triggered by one of those waves,” Bogle said.

  “It could have,” Kirk said. “Or survivors might have triggered the signal themselves. We don’t know. But we need to find out.”

  Bogle glanced at Lee. Lee was frowning. Rodriguez was monitoring the Klingon ships on his navigational computer. Klingons, subspace waves, and an emergency beacon. Kirk was well known for his tendency to rush in, to solve the problem no matter how difficult. Bogle had gotten his command by being more cautious. And this seemed like a very logical time to be very, very cautious.

  “Maybe we should see if we can verify the distress signal. It might be a Klingon trap of some sort.”

  Kirk waved his hand in the air as if brushing aside Bogle’s worries. “My science officer tells me that asteroid could shatter in any of these waves. If there are survivors, they’ll be killed. The faster we move the better.”

  “He’s right, Captain,” Lee said softly. “If there are survivors, we have to get them out. Quickly.”

  Bogle glanced sharply at Lee and then turned back to Kirk. He didn’t like the idea of risking his ship in those waves. He would rather face Klingons than lose the Farragut to some unknown weapons system.

  He sighed. Kirk arrived first.

  Kirk had already assessed the situation.

  Kirk had a phenomenal success rate.

  And Kirk was right this time.

  The survivors, if there were any, might be the last of their destroyed race.

  “All right,” Bogle said, doing his best to keep the irritation out of his voice. “What’s your plan?”

  As he asked the question, he wondered if they should have been scrambling the message. The Klingons were probably listening. But, then, what harm would that do? All they would learn would be about the rescue mission.

  “We try the old two-steps-forward-one-back routine,” Kirk said.

  Bogle felt like that maneuver had been left out of his playbook. Was Kirk using a code after all? He knew Starfleet procedure for letting another commander know that the message was going to be encoded. This wasn’t it.

  “Run that by me again.”

  Lee cleared his throat beside Bogle and then, without waiting for permission to speak, said, “I understand it, sir. We go in between waves and then to reduce the effect of the wave we ride it outward for a short distance. Surfing the wave. It’s brilliant. And I think it might work.”

  “Exactly,” Kirk said. “The waves might be more intense the closer we get into the system, and so we’ll be in them longer, riding with them, but it should work just long enough to see if there are survivors.”

  “I’m still lost here,” Bogle said. Now he made no pretense in hiding his irritation. “Explain this scheme to me one more time.”

  Lee broke in before Kirk could say anything. He’d have to talk to Lee about this later.

  “Imagine,” Lee said, “that you are standing in shallow water on the beach and a five-foot wave is coming at you. If you stand there it will probably knock you down. However, if you turn and float with it, surf with it toward the shore, you won’t feel its force as much.”

  “And a starship will hold together through all this?” Bogle asked Kirk, not looking at his first officer. The Farragut had gone through a number of difficult, stressful maneuvers, but nothing quite like the one Lee described.

  Kirk laughed, but there was no real joy in his voice. “My chief engineer, Mister Scott, assures me she will and so far he’s never let me down.”

  Bogle wished he had time to check with his own engineer, Projeff, while this conversation was happening. And he would, before the ship went anywhere near those debris fields.

  Lee was leaning forward beside Bogle, caught up in the idea. “It would be better to go in over the plane of the system,” Lee said, “and come down from on top of the debris field left by the destruction of the planets. Less chance of collision that way.”

  Kirk glanced off screen for a moment, then nodded. “We’ll do that. But Kelly, you’ll be out here alone with the Klingons.”

  “You don’t think both ships should go in?” Bogle asked, trying to ignore the thread of relief running up his spine.

  “No,” Kirk said. “I think two ships might confuse the matter. And besides, no point in risking two ships at this point.”

  “I can handle the Klingons,” Bogle said.

  That much, anyway, was for the better, as far as he was concerned.

  Kirk ran a hand through his hair. It only made the tousling worse. “I’ll tell the Klingons what we’re going to do, and I’ll ask them to help in the rescue.”

  Whatever Bogle had expected Kirk to say next, it wasn’t that. The joke around Starfleet command was that the word “help” wasn’t even in the Klingon lexicon—at least when it came to non-Klingons who needed the help.

  “Help?” Bogle asked. “Are you kidding?”

  Kirk shrugged. “What could it hurt?”

  Now Bogle knew that Kirk was completely crazy. He’d always half thought so, but now he knew. Shaking his head, he said, “I guess it won’t hurt to ask. If they decide to join you, it’ll keep them busy for a while.”

  “And if they don’t, you’ll be out here with four Klingon vessels.”

  Bogle snorted without meaning to. “Don’t worry about us, Jim. We can hold our own just fine.”

  Kirk’s grin was sudden and mischievous. “I know,” he said. “I’ve played cards with you. Remember? Stand by. I’ll link you into the conversation with the Klingons.”

  The screen went dead. Bogle sat in the captain’s chair, still shaking his head.

  The circular bridge of the Klingon cruiser was filled with activity. No one spoke. The green walls and the dim lights made the bridge seem wartime dark. That was probably appropriate. War was as close as the tip of an enemy’s dagger.

  KerDaq’s second-in-command, and his closest ally on the ship, KobtaH, searched for the center of the rift. KerDaq could trust none of his other officers to find it and report the result to him in a timely fashion. Several of his bridge crew had recently arrived, and all needed to prove themselves before he trusted them. His commander’s chair was too precious to lose to a zealous young Klingon with a name to make.

  The other bridge officers were monitoring the situation as well. They all knew this was the kind of encounter that could go very badly for all of them, or extremely well.

  KerDaq intended to make it go well.

  But they had done nothing except talk to the Federation starships since they arrived. And they could do nothing else.

  Yet.

  They had to wait.

  KerDaq hated waiting. He was a warrior, not someone who sat and waited. But he knew every warrior had to have patience, had to know when to fight and when not to fight.

  This was not yet the time to fight.

  The Federation ships first had to show him where their secret superweapon was hidden.

  He had a plan.

  The Federation would have to retrieve their weapon. KerDaq and his officers had studied the subspace waves. Their ship could go into the waves and survive if they moved with the waves as they passed. It would be risky, but it would be worthwhile.

  Then, when the Federation ships had the weapon, he would take it from them.

  KerDaq would have the Federation weapon. He would personally take the weapon to the High Council. Then he would be a hero.

  “Commander,” KjaH, his science officer, said, his voice rumbling through the silence, “we are still unable to pinpoint the origin of the subspace waves.”

  Ker
Daq swung around in his high-backed command chair and glared at his science officer. “What can be so hard?”

  “Sir, our position does not allow us a good reading. If we could move …”

  “We will not move,” KerDaq said. He spoke firmly. “Find the center, for at that center is the Federation superweapon.”

  “Yes, sir,” KjaH said, snapping his heels smartly on the floor. He turned back to his panel.

  KerDaq nodded and swung back to face the main screen, which showed the two Federation ships and the destroyed system beyond. He tugged at the edge of his gloves, making certain their steel points rested across his knuckles. His science officer knew when to back down and when to fight. That was the sign of a good warrior. He would have to keep a sharp eye on him.

  “Sir,” Communications Officer KenIqu said. “The Enterprise hails us.”

  “On screen,” KerDaq said loudly. Then to himself he added, “Let us see what kind of treachery they are up to now.”

  Kirk’s sneering face filled the screen.

  KerDaq growled to himself. This Kirk was quickly becoming one of the most hated and feared officers in the Federation. KerDaq could see no reason for the fear at the moment. Kirk had no more strength than any other Federation weakling.

  “Commander,” Kirk said, nodding slightly.

  At least, KerDaq thought, the man knows how to show respect.

  “We’re going into the debris fields in the system,” Kirk said. “We think we may have found survivors there. We’re going to attempt a rescue of them. And—” He paused for obvious dramatic effect. “—we could use your help.”

  Kirk’s words so surprised KerDaq that he laughed, a full belly laugh as if a warrior had just told a humorous story over a strong drink.

  Kirk’s ugly human eyes narrowed. “What is so funny, KerDaq?” he asked.

  KerDaq leaned forward so that Kirk could see his insignias, the badges of his house and his honor. This Kirk thought him an idiot, easily tricked. KerDaq would prove that wrong immediately.