The Rings Of Tautee Page 7

  “Could a Klingon superweapon have caused all this?” Kirk asked.

  Spock glanced over his shoulder at the captain. Uhura took a deep, sudden breath and held it.

  Out of the corner of his eye Kirk could see Sulu turn to look at him.

  “At this point, Captain,” Spock said carefully, “I am not willing to speculate.”

  The entire ship shook and moaned as the internal stabilizers fought to keep the ship level against the huge forces shaking it. Kirk held on to the arms of his chair and rode it out. The chair bumped against his spine and legs, the thin cushion no protection against each impact.

  Sulu clung to the helm.

  Chekov tried to swivel his chair back and nearly fell again.

  And Uhura maintained her balance with the grace of a ballerina.

  They were getting used to these waves, although this one felt as if it was bumping harder than the last.

  Spock frowned and even before the shaking had stopped turned back to his scope. Kirk jumped to his feet, relieved to be off that chair, and moved up to the rail near the science station.

  “Was that more intense?” he asked. He already knew the answer. It was clearly a stronger wave, but he needed Spock to confirm his senses.

  After a moment Spock looked up. “Since our arrival into this system, the intensity of the subspace wave has increased by almost ten percent. The rate of increase appears to be constant.”

  “Constant?” Kirk said. He had not expected that. He had thought that all the waves had been similar until this one. “Can you speculate on this increase, Spock?”

  “Unfortunately, yes, Captain,” Spock said. “If this rate of increase continues, the Tautee sun will be torn apart in approximately twenty-seven-point-three days.”

  “Torn completely apart?” Kirk asked. He couldn’t wrap his mind around that level of destruction any more than he could around fifteen planets destroyed.

  Spock nodded. “Yes, sir. In sixty-two days the closest planetary system will be destroyed.”

  Kirk could feel his stomach starting to flutter, and he took a deep breath. It didn’t seem to help. There were four billion more lives in the Wheaten system. “It will spread that far?” Kirk asked, his voice low, hoping he had heard wrong.

  Spock kept one hand on the science console, as if he were still bracing himself against the subspace wave. “If the rate of increase continues, and I see no logical reason why it should not, the waves emanating from this rift in space will be strong enough to destroy the planet Vulcan in approximately four hundred and eight days. And the planet Earth twenty-six days later.”

  “Four hundred and eight days?”

  Kirk leaned against the rail. Its support felt good against his back. Klingons, survivors, the Prime Directive, and now this. They would have to close that rift somehow, stop the waves. One year and the Federation would cease to exist if he didn’t act. He had to stop those waves.

  And he would wager the only way to stop the waves was to know what caused them.

  Kirk turned again to face Spock. “If these waves are growing in intensity, Mr. Spock, how long until we have to move the Enterprise?”

  “Ten hours, Captain. I would recommend, however, that we find a safer distance before that.”

  Kirk returned to his chair, and sat heavily in it, instantly regretting the movement as a jolt ran up his spine. Ten hours. Why did every important event in his career have to have such a short timetable?

  He glanced at the Klingon ships on the screen. Suddenly rescuing Tautee survivors and violating the Prime Directive seemed very small. If he didn’t act and act now, there would be no Prime Directive, no Federation, and no planet Earth.

  The whir of the turbolift doors filled the silence on the bridge. He didn’t turn to see who had entered. He had too much on his plate already. The next problem, whatever it was, could wait.

  The bridge crew seemed to feel the same way, for no one—except Sulu—had taken their gaze off him. They were waiting for him to act.

  And act he would.

  He clenched a fist and pushed it into the armrest. “How do we close this rift in space, Mister Spock?”

  “I do not know, Captain. I do not even know how it was created.”

  “I do, Captain.”

  Kirk didn’t recognize the voice.

  He spun quickly around to face Dr. McCoy and tiny people who were obviously two of the Tautee survivors. The man was staring at the equipment in awe. He was small and delicate, looking more like a boy than a full-grown being, except for the age lines on his face.

  The woman was staring at Kirk, her chin up. She was the one who had spoken.

  She was clearly the one in charge of the Tautee survivors. Even though she was built as slightly as the man, Kirk would never mistake her for a teenager. Her clothes were ripped and tattered and her face and arms covered with dirt, yet she had the bearing and strength of someone who had been in command a long, long time.

  “You know what happened?” he asked.

  The woman moved forward around the railing and down until she stood in front of Kirk as if he were her judge. He looked down at her.

  “My name is Prescott,” she said in a full, rich voice. “I caused all this destruction.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “SIR, WE CANNOT TELL what they beamed aboard.”

  KerDaq glared across the war-darkened bridge at KobtaH. Bits of smoke still filled the air from the ruined control panel near the door. One of his officers had fallen into it during a subspace wave. Although KerDaq’s back had been turned at the time, he doubted the damaged panel was an accident. He suspected that the officer had been pushed. He had been rising too quickly, and KerDaq had been favoring him of late.

  Such favoritism always set the officer up for attack. The officer who could defend himself was the only officer who rose beyond his station.

  Which brought KerDaq back to the problem that faced him now. “You cannot?” He asked his science officer.

  “No, sir.”

  KerDaq scowled. He should cut the man into pieces like the planets of this system. How could he not know if the humans had beamed their superweapon aboard? How could such incompetence exist?

  Especially on his ship.

  “What could you identify?” He deliberately let his voice fill with sarcasm. “Are you even certain that they transported something aboard?”

  “Yes, Commander,” KobtaH said. “They staged several large beam-outs from the center of that asteroid.”

  “Several?” KerDaq asked.

  “Yes, Commander.”

  “You had several chances and still you do not know?”

  “I assumed it was the superweapon, sir.”

  “You assumed. You assumed. You did not check.”

  KobtaH bared his teeth. He knew that KerDaq was questioning his competence. If KerDaq continued to do so, the man’s position would soon be available to someone more competent.

  The rest of the bridge crew turned to watch the interchange.

  “Did you?” KerDaq stood, fingers tight against the palm of his hand, the spikes on his gloves catching the dim light. “You did not check.”

  “No, Commander. But something of that size, and taking that many beam-outs, could only be the superweapon.”

  KerDaq took a step closer to KobtaH. There would be no way to check now. KobtaH’s incompetence had cost them knowledge. “You had better ask the protection of Kahless in case you are wrong.”

  “I am not wrong, Commander,” KobtaH said.

  KerDaq squinted at him. KobtaH was shorter, his ridges smoother, but he had power, and connections. KerDaq was not ready to discard him yet. Besides, he believed that for all of KobtaH’s incompetence, KobtaH was correct.

  What else could induce Kirk to travel into the middle of those subspace waves? This story of survivors was a faulty cover. No air-breathing creature could survive a disaster of this magnitude.

  KerDaq grunted and returned to his command chair.


  He swiveled it, and leaned forward, glad it was raised, glad that it made him seem even more powerful than he was. “So you believe they are ready to leave with their weapon?”

  “I don’t think so, Supreme Commander.”

  KerDaq smiled. KobtaH only used his official title when he was worried about KerDaq’s reaction. They had served a long time together and KerDaq had seen that pattern before.

  “Upon what facts do you base your opinion?”

  KobtaH glanced around. The others were watching him, waiting to see how KerDaq would punish him for such disastrous errors.

  KobtaH stood alone. No one came to his rescue, and no one would.

  He straightened his shoulders, accepting his potential fate like a good Klingon, and took a deep breath. “I base my opinion upon this, sir. The subspace waves are still increasing in power.”

  “They are, huh?” KerDaq spoke as if he had expected that answer. But he had not. KobtaH had surprised him. And KobtaH had found one of the few things that would convince anyone.

  KerDaq’s silence seemed to make KobtaH nervous. “At this rate of increase,” KobtaH added, “this sun will be destroyed in a very few days at most.”

  “And destroy the remaining evidence.” KerDaq growled.

  He swiveled his chair back into position and glared at the screen. On it, the debris from the destroyed planets formed quarter circles around the sun. The Federation ships looked small and evil against that backdrop.

  The Federation’s trickery was suddenly very clear. They had come here, tested their weapon, retrieved what the information they needed from the test and then set the superweapon to destroy the sun. And in the process the weapon and all the evidence would also be destroyed.

  Kirk had probably not beamed aboard the weapon, but the data.

  “Brilliant,” KerDaq said to himself. This was Federation trickery on an unparalleled scale. And if they could destroy a remote star system like Tautee in less than a week, then they could do the same to the Klingon Empire—or any other system that offended them.

  The Klingons needed the information on this weapon. They needed to know how to defend themselves, how to prevent any more destruction of this kind.

  “Inform the other commanders to follow my lead,” he said. “I want the Enterprise captured, not destroyed.”

  “But Commander, they have—”

  “They have information vital to the survival of the Klingon Empire,” KerDaq said. “We shall learn it. All of it.”

  KobtaH grinned.

  The other officers growled their approval.

  KerDaq gripped the arms of his chair and leaned forward. “On my signal,” he said, “we will attack.”

  “Captain,” Science Officer Richard Lee said, his voice suddenly holding a bit of panic in it. “The Klingons are powering up their weapons and raising shields.”

  “Red alert,” Bogle said. “Hail the Enterprise.”

  As if Kirk wouldn’t have noticed. Not likely, but it was better to take no chances. He’d play this one exactly by the book.

  Bogle ran a hand through his thinning hair. Too much had been happening too quickly. His bridge crew, hunched over their consoles, could barely keep track of things. He suspected Kirk’s were the same way.

  Bogle believed in the Prime Directive, believed in it more than he believed in any other aspect of the Federation. Saving one hundred survivors could be squeezed past the Prime Directive, just barely.

  But thousands, as Kirk had informed him might still be in those rocks, could not. And as much as it bothered his conscience, he understood the reasons behind it. Laws applied in difficult circumstances, painful circumstances, as well as easy ones. They could not save those survivors.

  Yet Bogle knew Kirk. He knew Kirk would search for a way around this. If Kirk found that way, it had to be within Federation guidelines or Bogle would not agree to it. In fact, he would be forced to stop Kirk, and he didn’t want that situation to happen.

  Then there was this business about the expanding waves, expanding so far that they would threaten the Federation’s home systems. Bogle shook his head. More than enough for any commander to consider.

  He had been thinking about those things, not about the Klingons.

  “I have Captain Kirk, sir,” Gustavus said.

  “Put him on screen.” Bogle rested his arms on his captain’s chair and leaned toward the viewscreen. He wanted to look at ease, even though he was not.

  Kirk, on the other hand, looked tense. And as if he were thriving on the increased adrenaline. Behind him red lights flashed. The Enterprise was also on red alert.

  “Do you have any idea what they’re up to?” Bogle asked.

  “Knowing the Klingons,” Kirk said, “it could be anything. And their timing is typical too. I’ve been hailing them and they’re not responding.”

  “Do you think I should try?”

  Kirk shook his head. “If he’s not responding to me, he won’t respond to you.”

  “What have we done?” Bogle asked.

  “Maybe nothing,” Kirk said. “Maybe we’re too close to something they’re protecting.”

  “A weapon?” Bogle had hoped this destruction wasn’t caused by a superweapon. He just didn’t want to believe that was possible.

  “Perhaps,” Kirk said, “Or perhaps they’ve just decided they don’t like us anymore. We’ll just have to ride this one out.”

  Bogle nodded. “We’ll guard your back.”

  “We’ll do the same for you,” Kirk said. “Kirk out.”

  The screen went dark for half a second.

  “Gustavus!” Bogle said. “I want to see those Klingons.”

  “Aye, sir,” she said. The screen came back on, showing four gray Klingon battle cruisers against the slowly growing Rings of Tautee.

  “Sir,” Lee said, “they’re moving.”

  And as he spoke, the ships split apart from each other, and moved into attack formation.

  Bogle stood so quickly his chair spun. “Arm photon torpedoes and phasers and stand ready.”

  Two of the cruisers peeled away and moved in a quick arching circle high above the two starships.

  “Those two are making a run at us,” Lee said.

  “Wait until they fire the first shot,” Bogle said. He didn’t want to be accused of starting a war between the Federation and the Klingons.

  Even though his heart was racing, he felt quite calm. Now that he knew what the Klingons were up to, he could counter. He might not have spent much time with Klingons, but he knew how to fight them. “Then return fire. Pattern Alpha.”

  He sat down in his command chair and braced himself. The few long seconds before the Klingon ships began firing seemed to stretch into a lifetime. His lifetime and maybe many others.

  His ship rocked with the impact. His officers, braced as they were, simply moved with the ship. Hands moved so rapidly he could barely see them. And then, across the darkened screen, a volley of photon torpedoes streaked red as they headed toward the two battle cruisers.

  The battle was engaged and Bogle didn’t even know what they were fighting about.

  And he really doubted Jim Kirk did either.

  All he knew was that if all the races and people in this sector were to survive, including the Klingons, the Federation had to win this fight.

  And they had to win it fast.

  Chapter Fifteen

  PRESCOTT CLUNG TO the railing on the balcony encircling the ship’s command center. Her fingers barely fit around the cool, unfamiliar surface. Everything was big here, and powerful, and noisy.

  The pulsating red lights were accompanied by a blare that the alien crew didn’t seem to notice. The ship rocked and bounced from what she had first thought were subspace waves, and gradually began to realize was another ship firing upon them.

  Her mind was overloaded, her body rigid with shock. She was coasting along the surface of things when actually everything she had ever believed was being shattered, much as he
r own experiments had shattered her home.

  She didn’t doubt that now. Perhaps she could accept it because she was here, in this magical place, with these extraordinary aliens.

  They looked Tauteean, but they were big like giants from the ancient mythologies. The men had twice the height and girth of Folle, but they carried it well, with muscle not fat.

  The women were large too, and muscular, as if they could fight every bit as well as their men. And even though they seemed to know her language perfectly, they spoke it with varying accents—some musical, as in the case of the man who had brought them to the Enterprise, and some harsh, like Dr. Leonard McCoy’s.

  Somehow she preferred Dr. Leonard McCoy’s accent.

  He was standing on one side of her, clutching the rail too. Only his long fingers wrapped around it, and he moved with the rhythm of the ship as if he had been born to it.

  The others did as well, and she wondered where they had been born, how they came here, and what they were. They didn’t seem to belong to the same race. The rail-thin man with the greenish skin seemed particularly unusual. His ears, his eyebrows, and his skin tone marked him as different, but his attitude was what made him seem especially alien. While the other members of the crew rocked and worked and muttered to themselves, he kept his balance and his composure.

  Prescott watched them all, feeling absurdly detached. It was as if her mind had separated from her body. After all the misery she had felt on the destroyed moon, it felt odd not to feel anything at all. Her scientific brain told her that she felt nothing because she had already given herself up for dead. When that explanation felt lame, her brain told her that she felt nothing because she was in shock.

  But deep down, she actually believed she felt nothing because she had already lost everything of meaning. Losing her life was just a detail, and a minor one at that.

  Folle stood on her other side, looking as numb as she felt. He was having trouble keeping his balance. As the ship rocked, he occasionally slammed into her, muttering an apology every time. Finally she picked up one hand and placed it on his. Dr. Leonard McCoy watched the movement with interest.