The Rings Of Tautee Read online

  “You cannot fool us with your rescue ploy. You are going in to retrieve your weapon.”

  This time it was Kirk’s turn to look shocked. KerDaq knew he had caught him in a lie. Human captains hid their emotions, unsuccessfully, but valiantly. This wide-eyed shock, this obvious reaction, was part of the trick, inexpertly done.

  Kirk shook his head. “I told you, KerDaq, we don’t have a weapon. But we have received a distress call, and we will not ignore it. We’re going in. We would like you to come with us.”

  “You have another ship,” KerDaq said. “You do not need us.”

  “We don’t know how many survivors there are,” Kirk said. “The more ships we have, the more space we have to beam survivors aboard.”

  “You are quite inventive,” KerDaq said. “But we have done our own scans of your waves. Any ship that ventures into that system would be destroyed. Unless, of course, it understood the weapon, and had a way to shield itself from the weapon’s effect.”

  “We don’t have any special shield,” Kirk said. “But we do have a plan. If—”

  “Enough, Kirk.” KerDaq swept his arm in the general direction of the ruined system. “Do as you please. But we will be watching and waiting. Do not think you can leave this area with that weapon.”

  KerDaq pounded the button on his chair and cut Kirk’s answer off. There was no use listening to any more lies. He would not let Kirk lead one single Klingon warrior to his death. He would watch where Kirk went, shielded, into the center of the destruction.

  And he would watch Kirk remove his weapon.

  He would let Kirk’s actions prove his guilt.

  “Commander,” KenIqu said, “the Enterprise is moving.”

  KerDaq nodded. “Inform the QuaQa that we will be following the Enterprise. The other two ships are to remain close to the second Federation vessel.”

  “Yes, sir,” KenIqu said.

  “Subspace wave approaching,” KobtaH said.

  KerDaq sat back, smiling, holding on to his chair while he watched the Enterprise move slowly off.

  Soon the great Captain Kirk would be caught and disgraced. And the weapon that could do this destruction would be where it belonged: in the hands of the Empire.

  Chapter Nine

  THE ENTERPRISE BROKE AWAY from the Farragut and flew above the plane of the solar system, staying a safe distance from the remains of the planets. The bridge crew’s expressions were tight, focused. They knew there was a high risk in this rescue operation, especially since there might not be anyone left to rescue.

  They were willing to take the chance. They trusted Kirk. They always had.

  And he trusted them as well.

  “Full shields,” he said. “Keep her steady, Mr. Sulu.”

  “Aye, sir.” Sulu’s gaze was focused on the screen.

  “Captain,” Chekov said. “Two Klingon ships are following us.” He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes wide with surprise and tension.

  Kirk smiled. So, KerDaq had decided to tag along after all. He wouldn’t come down into the debris fields, but he would stand watch. Well, as far as Kirk was concerned they could watch all they want. There was no superweapon, and he doubted the Federation would ever work on one.

  “Captain?” Chekov’s accent got thicker when he grew nervous.

  “Monitor them, Ensign,” Kirk said.

  “But Captain—”

  “Monitor them,” Kirk said, his smile growing. KerDaq knew how to get through those waves as much as they did. Perhaps he was worried that in saving the survivors, Kirk would discover the Klingon’s weapon. Always, Kirk had learned, always listen to your enemies’ professed fears, because often they were talking about what they would do—or what they had done—themselves.

  Chekov was sputtering. He bent over his console.

  “Oh, and Ensign,” Kirk said, enjoying Chekov’s consternation a bit more than he should, “put the ship on yellow alert. Shields up and extra power to the forward shield. I want the crew to be prepared for anything.”

  “Aye, sir!” Chekov said with such relieved fervor that Kirk had to stifle a laugh.

  “Entering the debris field of the remains of the fifth planet,” Sulu said.

  Kirk gripped the arms of his chair, even though the ship hit no bumps. “Keep her steady, Sulu,” Kirk said.

  Huge asteroids drifted past the screen. Between the huge chunks of what was left of the fifth planet were millions of tiny rocks and dust. They bounced off the shields like stones skipping over water. Kirk wasn’t bothered much by the small ones at this speed. The fear was running into one too large for the shields to deflect.

  Sulu didn’t answer. He was obviously concentrating on keeping the ship on a course through the large rocks.

  “Dead ahead,” Spock said.

  “Full stop,” Kirk said. The huge asteroid looked barren from this distance. Kirk couldn’t believe life could have survived there.

  “I believe we will need to move closer if we are going to attempt the rescue,” Spock said.

  Kirk hated it when Spock used the word “attempt.” He was so precise that he meant each word he said. Words like “attempt” meant Spock had doubts as to whether or not the project would succeed.

  Kirk pushed himself out of the captain’s chair.

  No sense hesitating.

  Or dwelling on the word “attempt.”

  They would succeed or die trying.

  “Mister Sulu,” Kirk said. “Take us in as close as you can to that hunk of rock.”

  “Aye, sir.” Sulu looked somber as he punched in the coordinates. He would manually maneuver the close-in work. It was too sensitive for the computers.

  In times like this Kirk sometimes ached to pilot the ship himself. But Sulu was one of the best. Sulu would bring them in safely.

  “Mister Sulu,” Spock said, “we face our first subspace wave in the debris field. It shall arrive in one minute. I have fed a course into your computer. On my mark, follow that course at one-tenth impulse for exactly three seconds.”

  “Course laid in and waiting for your command, Mister Spock,” Sulu said.

  Kirk glanced at Spock, who had his face buried in his viewfinder. He had trusted his life to Spock more times than he could remember. This time he was trusting the entire ship to him. One slip and the subspace wave would shake them apart, or slam them into a huge piece of the planet.

  “Captain,” Uhura said, “the distress signal is coming from inside the asteroid.”

  “Magnify screen, Mister Chekov.”

  A gray, jagged-surfaced rock filled the screen, slowly rotating to the right.

  “Fifteen seconds until my mark, Mister Sulu,” Spock said.

  Kirk turned to Uhura. “Can you get an exact fix on the location, Lieutenant?”

  “It’s too deep underground, sir.” She swiveled toward him, her brow furrowed, almost as if she didn’t believe the readings. “At least a kilometer deep.”

  Kirk punched his comm button to engineering. “Scotty,” he said, “can you rig the transporters to work through a kilometer of rock?”

  “I wouldn’t want to beam in there,” Scotty said, his voice sounding far away. “But if it’s the survivors you’ll be trying to beam out, we can do it. If I can get a fix on them, that is.”

  “Now, Mister Sulu!” Spock said.

  The Enterprise surged forward, leaving the jagged hunk of rock behind.

  Then the subspace wave hit.

  Far worse than before.

  The ship bumped and rocked like a boat on a stormy ocean. Kirk gripped his chair, but that didn’t steady him. His body bumped in and out of the chair as if it were a malfunctioning ejection seat.

  Sulu braced his feet against the console in front of him, but kept himself in place. Chekov bounced out of his chair. Spock tumbled backward, caught himself, but was unable to stand.

  Giant hunks of the destroyed planet flashed past the screen, and the shield howled and grew red with the impacts of small rocks and dus
t.

  Then the wave had passed.

  Spock stood, dusted himself off, and returned to the science station as if nothing had happened. Chekov shook his head once as if he were clearing it, then climbed back into his chair.

  “Mister Sulu,” Kirk said, “get us back to that asteroid.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  The Enterprise wove her way through a maze of rocks. The light vibrating continued from the pounding of rocks against the shield.

  “How are our friends the Klingons, Mister Chekov?”

  “The fleas are still with us, sir. But they are staying safely above the debris field.”

  Kirk nodded. The Enterprise continued to wind her way through the debris cloud. The movement didn’t take very long, but it felt like forever.

  Finally the huge asteroid filled the screen again. The asteroid was vaguely triangular, with large chunks of rock hanging off its side like knives.

  “Captain,” Spock said, “we are now close enough that I have been able to get more precise readings from the asteroid. It was a part of the fifth planet’s moon, and is now the largest remaining chunk of that moon. There is some sort of base a kilometer underground. Most of the base has been destroyed. But the signal does originate from there.”

  “Survivors, Spock?” Kirk asked. He could suddenly feel his heart pounding against his chest. So far they had been acting under supposition. Now they might be able to get confirmation.

  “I have very faint readings, Captain,” Spock said. “There seem to be ninety-two separate life signs, all clustered in the same general area.”

  “Send the information to the transporter room.” Kirk punched the comm button so hard that he bent his index finger backward. “Scotty, there are people inside that asteroid. Get them out of there.”

  “Aye, sir!”

  “Kirk to sickbay. McCoy, we have survivors beaming aboard. I would imagine many are injured.”

  McCoy’s voice came back strong. “Understood.”

  “Mister Sulu,” Spock said, “we shall encounter another wave in one minute and forty-six seconds. I have sent new coordinates to your screen. On my mark, follow that course at one-ninth impulse.”

  “Course laid in, Mister Spock.”

  “Come on, Scotty,” Kirk said to himself. He’d rather not ride another subspace wave through this debris field.

  “Captain,” Spock said, keeping his face buried in the viewfinder. His voice rose with fascination. “Owing to our new location, I have finally located the source of the subspace waves. They originate from what appears to be a rift in space in the area where the ninth planet used to be.”

  “A rift?” Kirk asked. The Klingons had a weapon strong enough to create a rift in space?

  How was that possible?

  Kirk punched the comm button. “Scotty. How’s it going?”

  “One minute, Mister Sulu,” Spock said.

  “We’re getting them, sir,” Scotty’s voice replied.

  Kirk sat staring at the huge chunk of a moon filling the screen. Hard to believe it had saved ninety lives by staying together. Sometimes the universe did strange things.

  Spock held up his hand. “Five seconds, Mister Sulu.”

  “Scotty!” Kirk barked into the comm. “Are you finished?”

  “No, sir. Beaming ninety-two people through a kilometer of rock is precision work. If I—”

  “Then we’ll come back for the rest,” Kirk said.

  “Now, Mister Sulu.” Spock’s arm went down as he spoke as if were starting a race.

  And again the Enterprise flashed away from the asteroid, riding the crest of the subspace wave like a surfer headed for the beach.

  A very rocky beach that Kirk hoped they’d never hit.

  Chapter Ten

  THE TINY NOISES she made seemed overwhelming in the cavernous room.

  Prescott had crawled underneath the mainscreen control panel. She had portable lights attached to her wrists—she couldn’t find any helmet lamps—and she had been working for some time. She had discovered that Folle’s philosophy was right; it was better to be busy. That way, she didn’t have time to dwell on the hopelessness of their situation.

  Or on its cause.

  When she had crawled under the panel, she had been surprised. Despite the shaking and dust, the panel appeared to be in fine shape. The problem was with the lack of power (how ironic), the shattered connections to the surface, and the aboveground cameras, as she had expected. Still, she double-checked every circuit, every system, and every chip.

  “Any success?” Folle’s voice rang to her from above. She hadn’t even heard him enter. That pleased her. She had been concentrating hard.

  She shut off her wrist lights, pushed herself free of the access panel, and half-floated into an upright position. Her hands were covered with dust, and she knew the sweat on her face was also making black lines in the layers of dirt.

  “Everything here is fine,” she said. “I was about to check to see if I could draw enough power from the emergency field to connect to an outside camera, if any are still out there.”

  Folle had turned and was holding on to the back of her chair. “Good idea,” he said. “Let me—” He started to push off from the chair to move to the emergency power panel on the far wall when suddenly his entire body started to shimmer.

  The shocked look on his face told Prescott that she wasn’t imagining the effect. His entire body really was shimmering, as if she were looking at him through a layer of water and someone was stirring the water up.

  Then he was gone.

  No noise.

  No pop.

  Nothing.

  Gone.

  One moment he was there and the next moment he wasn’t.

  “Folle?” she said, starting toward his last position out of instinct.

  He was gone.

  She stopped, holding on to the back of her chair. Maybe her mind was gone as well. The guilt and stress of the last few weeks would have driven anyone insane. Why would she think she’d be any different?

  “Folle?” she called out once more, only to have her voice echo through the empty chamber. Was this what happened when people died? Did the billions of people who were alive when the waves hit remain in place for a few moments, a few days, and then shimmer into nothingness?

  Or had she imagined him in the first place? Maybe he hadn’t come at all.

  “You’re starting to lose it,” she said to the emptiness. “Hang in there just a little longer.”

  Long enough to find him. He had to be on the station somewhere. And if he wasn’t, well, then maybe she would have to examine his disappearance as a death.

  Another death caused by the experiment.

  She gripped her chair, about to push herself toward the door, when the station started to rumble and shake.

  Several chunks of steel fell from the ceiling. Dust floated around her. The emergency lights flickered.

  And she knew she was going to die.

  She swung around into her chair and held on. Ever since she had followed Folle’s advice, her survival instincts had kicked in. She didn’t want to die.

  Not anymore.

  Even though she really didn’t deserve to live.

  Then the rumbling stopped and the dust began to settle again, coating her and everything in the room with another fine layer of gray.

  In front of her the blank screens taunted her, laughed at her, told her by their very emptiness that she wasn’t dead. Yet.

  Inside, she was still shaking. Folle’s disappearance terrified her more than she wanted to admit. She had spent the last five years with him on this research facility. They had been together most of that time.

  He was helping her through this, and she had thought they would die together.

  She brushed a strand of hair out of her face with her wrist lamp, its plastic cool against her forehead, and forced herself to take a deep breath. She didn’t know he was dead yet. She had to search first.

  She was
a scientist. Scientists waited for evidence.

  She hadn’t touched him when he was here the last time. She had been working. She had been under a lot of strain. People who were under stress imagined things.

  Like that odd feeling all over her body, as if something very small were breathing on her skin.

  All of her skin.

  She brought her arm down, and stared at it. It was composed of multicolored light. And it was shimmering.

  She opened her mouth to call for help when—

  —everything went black.

  Then almost instantly, she was in bright light. She blinked. The air was clear here, and it smelled fresh.

  “Captain,” said a strange voice with an even stranger accent. “I’ve got one more set to go.”

  She blinked again. Red and green spots danced in her vision.

  “Excellent, Scotty. Do it quickly. I’d like to be out of here as soon as possible.” The second voice had a tinny quality and a completely different accent, another one she had never heard before.

  Slowly the glare eased and she could see. She was standing on a platform with several circles on it. Directly across from her a man in a red uniform stood behind a console. He grinned at her, an infectious twinkle in his eyes. His skin was pale, and his hair was a shade of black she had never seen before.

  Two other red-uniformed people stood beside an open door. Beyond it was a yellow corridor.

  She swallowed and glanced at her arm—surreptitiously, she hoped. It was normal, as dust-covered as it had been in the main control room. Then she saw movement beside her. On the platform, three other members of her staff stood. She could have sworn they weren’t there when she first arrived.

  “And that’s the last of them,” the man said. He spoke loudly, as if he were addressing someone else. But the people at the door were staring straight ahead, like guards, and no one else appeared to be in the room.

  Except Folle, standing in the shadows to her left.

  “Folle,” she said, breathing his name like a lifeline.

  Scotty grinned, stepped forward, and held out his hand to help her down from the platform. “Welcome to the Starship Enterprise,” he said.