The Rings Of Tautee Page 8

No one else was looking at them.

  Captain James Kirk had taken what appeared to be his normal seat in the middle of the command center, his attention never wavering from the huge screen in front of his two crew.

  The screen showed space. She recognized the growing rings, the distant sun, and the remains of the Tautee system. Her home. But smack in the middle of the screen were two gray ships shaped like Ne Lizards, with large heads, sleek backs, and wings. These, apparently, were the enemy, the Cling-Ons.

  She wondered at the name, and hoped it wasn’t some type of attack. It would make them even more like the Ne Lizards; once they contacted the skin, they stuck.

  Another ship was flanked by two gray vessels. The other ship, which looked like a saucer with a tail, was apparently Captain James Kirk’s ally, Farragut.

  So much information, so much was happening, and she had no real way to make sense of it all.

  But she did know that the red streaks that appeared on the screen were the weapons. She learned that by watching one streak toward the screen. A second later, the ship rocked with impact.

  “Shields holding, sir,” the large man with the almost indecipherable accent said.

  “Return fire, Mister Chekov,” Captain James Kirk said.

  Streaks of light seemed to originate beyond the screen. They grew smaller as they headed toward the gray vessels, then exploded in orange balls near the vessels’ sides.

  “Direct hit,” Mister Chekov said, balling his fist.

  “Continue firing.” Captain James Kirk looked as if he were fighting the fight with his bare hands. He moved constantly, leaning forward, leaning back, watching each member of his crew. At the moment, he swiveled his chair, and looked at the greenish man. “How’s the Farragut doing?

  “They are firing upon two of the cruisers,” the greenish man said. He sounded as calm as he looked. “They do not seem to have sustained any damage.”

  “Good.” Captain James Kirk stood and stepped away from his chair. He stopped behind the other large man, who had stared at the screen continually. “Mister Sulu, take us directly at KerDaq’s ship.”

  “Aye, sir.” Mister Sulu had a deep soothing voice. Of all the alien crew, he was the only one who sounded the most Tauteean.

  Prescott could not feel the ship turn, but the view on screen changed, sweeping away from the gray vessels, and then suddenly toward one. Bursts of red fire appeared against the darkness of space.

  Dr. Leonard McCoy’s grip tightened on the railing. He had been making small snorting noises, disapproving noises, for some time now. Finally, as the ship appeared to bear down on the gray vessel, he muttered, “This is just plain stupid.”

  Captain James Kirk whirled. “You have an opinion, Bones?”

  “I always have an opinion, Jim,” Dr. Leonard McCoy said. “I think we’re getting a little sidetracked here.”

  “We didn’t start this, Bones.” Captain James Kirk sounded testy.

  “Well, I wish we’d hurry up and end it.”

  “So do I, Bones,” the captain said. He turned back to stare at the screen.

  The two ships seemed to pass within touching distance of each other on the screen, and again the Enterprise was rocked as enemy fire pounded it. Prescott could not imagine the force and strength of these ships and these weapons. Races that could travel between the stars like this must obviously have very, very powerful weapons.

  “Captain,” Mister Chekov said, “the shields are at eighty percent.”

  “Captain,” the green-skinned man said without giving Captain James Kirk a chance to respond to Mister Chekov, “we have a very strong subspace wave in fifty seconds. With our weakened shields, we will feel this blast more intensely than we did the others.”

  “Are we in danger, Mister Spock?” Captain James Kirk asked.

  “Are you referring to the shields, the Klingons, the subspace wave, or all three, Captain?”

  “A simple yes or no would have done fine, Spock,” Dr. Leonard McCoy said.

  “Doctor,” the greenish man—Spock? one name only?—said, “in order to answer an inquiry precisely it is necessary to understand—”

  “The shields and the wave, Spock,” Captain James Kirk snapped. “Yes or no?”

  “Of course, Captain,” Spock said. “A wave of that intensity combined with lower shields would—”

  “Shields at seventy percent,” Mister Chekov said, his voice holding an edge of worry that even Prescott could hear. She thought it ironic. Rescued from certain death only to be killed with her rescuers in a war she didn’t even understand.

  More blasts rocked the ship. It felt as if Prescott’s fingers had dug grooves into the odd material of the rail.

  “Spock.” Captain James Kirk bounded up the stairs, stopping just behind Prescott. “Is the subspace wave coming directly out of the debris from the ninth planet?”

  “Yes, Captain,” Spock said as if they were discussing lunch. “I suggest we ride with the wave again to reduce the strain on our weakened shields.”

  They were operating on a level that was so far above Prescott that she felt like a child around adults. The height difference didn’t help. They thought they could ride out these waves of destruction, survive them with minimal damage. That concept alone startled her to the very core of her being. These waves had destroyed her homeworld and every planet in her system. How could this ship just ride them and escape damage? What amazing power these aliens had.

  Captain James Kirk nodded. His energy was infectious. Prescott could feel it beside her like a barely contained fusion reaction.

  “Let’s do this as we did it in the debris field,” Captain James Kirk said. “Mister Spock, send the coordinates to Sulu’s screen. But before you lay in Spock’s course, Sulu, I want you to plot a course directly at the ninth planet and immediately engage at one-sixth impulse. Be prepared to reverse course and follow Mister Spock’s directions on my mark.”

  “Aye, sir,” Mister Sulu said.

  Prescott had no idea what Captain James Kirk was planning, but obviously the crew did and they followed his directions without question. The man was clearly a very powerful and trusted leader.

  Dr. Leonard McCoy just stood beside her, shaking his head. He hadn’t let go of the railing either. She wondered if part of his impatience was due to his position in the command center. He had said he only wanted to make a quick stop here on the way to sickbay where, he said, more wounded waited for him.

  Was that the sidetrack?

  She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t even sure why these people sometimes used three names and sometimes used only one. She wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

  “Mister Chekov?” Captain James Kirk asked. Prescott didn’t understand the question.

  Mister Chekov nodded. “The Klingons are turning and following us.”

  Captain James Kirk smiled and sank into his command chair. He gripped the arms as if they were an extension of his own body.

  “Fifteen seconds,” Spock said.

  “On my mark, Mister Sulu.”

  Mister Sulu nodded.

  It seemed to Prescott that the entire alien crew was holding its breath.

  The seconds stretched.

  Even she found herself holding her breath, and she didn’t know what they were doing. Or why.

  Folle glanced at her, his eyes wide. His fingers were cold beneath hers.

  “Now, Mister Sulu,” Captain James Kirk said. “Reverse course.”

  “Five seconds,” Spock said.

  “Brace yourselves,” Captain James Kirk shouted.

  On the screen the two enemy ships flashed past just as the ship was hit with a rocking, tumbling, crashing sound. Prescott lost her grip on the rail and tumbled back against the wall. The jolt shuddered through her spine. She rolled with the force and came up sitting in time to see Folle slam against the wall beside her. He grunted audibly and then turned blue.

  Two of the crew were also tossed from their seats, and in the back of Prescott�
�s mind she wondered why, with such advance technology, they didn’t have something as simple as seat belts.

  Then the shaking and roaring stopped.

  McCoy, who had managed to remain standing, quickly moved over and began examining Folle, all the while muttering to himself about all this being stupid.

  “Damage reports on decks four, five, and seven,” the large woman in the tiny red dress said as she held her hand to her ear. Her voice seemed level and almost calm.

  “Shields are down to fifty percent, but they are still holding,” Mister Chekov said.

  “All stop,” Captain James Kirk ordered.

  Prescott felt the ship stop moving. It jerked noticeably, and she frowned. She hadn’t thought such maneuvers were possible in space.

  Captain James Kirk turned to Spock. “Did our friends make it?”

  Spock stared into his scope for a moment, then spoke without looking up. “Both vessels have sustained heavy damage. KerDaq’s ship has the most amount of damage. The second ship has no power.”

  “And Kelly’s ship?”

  Spock again spoke without looking up. “The Farragut, possibly combined with that last wave, has inflicted heavy damage on a third ship. The remaining Klingon ship is moving to aid the other ship. All hostilities have stopped. Captain …”

  Spock’s voice trailed off as if he were studying his scope harder than normal. Then he continued, his voice level. “KerDaq’s ship will sustain a core breach in less than a minute.”

  Without understanding what the words meant, even Prescott understood the implications of Spock’s words. The crew on KerDaq’s ship would soon die. And if she had understood correctly, none of the other enemy ships could help them.

  She pushed herself upright. Even though she had never seen KerDaq, even though she knew nothing about his people, her heart went out to him. She had been in that position just a few hours ago.

  Captain James Kirk punched a button on his chair without hesitation. “Transporter room. I want emergency beam-out of all personnel on the Klingon flagship. Security to transporter room on the double.”

  “Klingons, too, Jim?” Dr. Leonard McCoy asked. “Don’t you think the ship’s a bit crowded already?”

  “Trust me, Bones.” Captain James Kirk stood. Prescott had never seen such a restless man. He glanced at Spock and then grinned. Spock remained stoic, but raised a single eyebrow. The movement had the same effect as a smile.

  Captain James Kirk laughed and turned back to the screen. Prescott followed his gaze. The two green vessels floated at odd angles, obviously damaged. Suddenly the one on the right seemed to collapse in on itself. Then it exploded in a bright flash of orange and red.

  “We got them all, sir,” said a tinny disembodied voice.

  Captain James Kirk punched the comm button again. “Good work. Escort Commander KerDaq to the bridge. We have a few matters to discuss.”

  “Aye, sir,” the tinny voice said.

  Captain James Kirk then turned to Dr. Leonard McCoy and smiled. “Well, Bones, did I end that fast enough for you?”

  Prescott glanced at McCoy.

  McCoy snorted and kept working on Folle. “It would have been better not happening at all.”

  “I agree,” Captain James Kirk said.

  Then the captain turned and focused on Prescott where she leaned against the wall. “It seems we have a few minutes now,” he said.

  Beside her Folle moaned and McCoy helped him sit up.

  Quickly, under his intense gaze, she scrambled to her feet and stepped forward. “I am Prescott, the leader of the group you rescued.”

  Kirk stood and bowed slightly. His gaze perused her, all of her, as if he were trying to assess all the differences between them in a single glance. “Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise,” he said. “Pleased to have you aboard.”

  She was stunned at how nice he seemed. After just fighting two enemy ships, he suddenly seemed warm and friendly.

  Beside her McCoy stood. “She claims to be responsible for the destruction of this system.”

  “I heard her earlier, Bones,” Captain James Kirk said, the warmth in his voice like a caress. Prescott put her hands behind her back. This man was as dangerous as he was unpredictable. And powerful. Very powerful.

  “I simply don’t believe it,” he said.

  She straightened her back, wishing for the first time in her life that she was taller. “Believe it,” she said. “I destroyed the system. And if you give me a chance, I’ll tell you how.”

  “And why,” Captain James Kirk asked, “would you destroy your own system?”

  “It was an accident.” Her voice trembled and she forced herself to keep it level.

  Everyone in the ship’s command center stared at her.

  And for the longest time no one said a word.

  Chapter Sixteen

  KIRK FELT HIMSELF FREEZE.

  All the energy and excitement of the last few moments faded as he realized not just what the frail Tauteean woman had said, but what it meant.

  She believed she had destroyed her entire race.

  A shiver ran down his back. Whether or not she was right, he had to listen to her.

  Spock had swiveled in his chair and was staring at her. Uhura took her hand away from her ear, her wide brown eyes soft with compassion. Sulu turned, mouth open. McCoy took a step forward, reached for the woman—Prescott—but let his hand fall a few inches away from her.

  The Tauteean on the floor was breathing in deep shuddery breaths. He put a hand on the wall, and propelled himself upward, as if her words meant more than his pain.

  “Prescott,” he said, his voice shadowy with lack of oxygen.

  “It’s all right, Folle,” she said, without even turning around.

  Kirk frowned. He had been so convinced that the Klingons had caused this with a superweapon—and he still wasn’t willing to rule that possibility out. But the possibility had diminished greatly, and he didn’t need Spock’s gift with percentages to tell him just how much.

  But that didn’t solve the problem from the other side. The Klingons had accused him of using a special weapon. He had thought it a cover for their own behavior, but what if they were both wrong, and this Prescott was right?

  Kirk couldn’t examine her evidence alone. He needed the Klingons here as well.

  “Captain James Kirk,” she said. “I will give you the answers you’ve been seeking.”

  He nodded, feeling a bit off balance from the new direction the conversation had gone. “Before you tell me,” he said, “there’s someone else who needs to hear this story. Let’s wait until he gets here.”

  As if on cue the door to the turbolift whisked open and KerDaq emerged, flanked on both sides by security men. Next to the Tauteeans, KerDaq looked like a giant. He towered over Kirk. Prescott only came to his beltline.

  KerDaq brushed her aside as he strode across the bridge, his gaze, fierce under his abnormally pronounced brow ridges, only on Kirk.

  Kirk held KerDaq’s gaze. Klingons bullied anyone weaker and they respected strength. Kirk could play the game, better than KerDaq would ever know.

  “Why didn’t you let us die in battle, like warriors?” KerDaq demanded, his voice full and angry. It rumbled through the bridge as if the Enterprise were too small to hold a Klingon presence.

  Kirk noticed that Prescott stepped back, shocked, and almost afraid at the appearance of the huge, rough Klingon. Tauteean features were very similar to human features. She had been staring at Spock as if she had never seen anything like him. A Klingon must have seemed like something out of a nightmare.

  “Your death would have served no purpose,” Kirk said, keeping his voice loud and firm and strong. “I would have loved to blow your ship from space, but this time I can’t claim credit for the explosion. The subspace wave destroyed your ship, not the Enterprise.”

  “I know that, Kirk.” KerDaq moved one step closer to Kirk. “You lured us into a trap.”

  KerD
aq spat out the words.

  Kirk resisted the urge to wipe the saliva from his face. Instead Kirk laughed. The laugh sounded forced and calculated to him, but KerDaq wouldn’t know the difference.

  KerDaq glowered.

  Kirk’s laugh became real. He had never induced that disgruntled an expression in a Klingon before. “You may be right about that.” He pushed past KerDaq, brushing hard against KerDaq’s shoulder, spinning the Klingon slightly around. Kirk knew KerDaq wouldn’t attack him, at least not at the moment. Klingons were brutal and fearless warriors, but they were also smart. KerDaq would listen.

  He had no other choice.

  “This is Prescott,” Kirk said, stopping near the small, thin woman, yet turning to face the Klingon. “She is a member of the race that inhabited this system.”

  “I do not care, Kirk. What has happened is between you and me.”

  “No,” Kirk said, glaring at KerDaq. “It is not.”

  He put his hand on Prescott’s shoulder and was surprised to feel her flinch. Her bones were fragile and his hand heavy. He hoped he hadn’t hurt her. Then she smiled at him, bravely, as if she was trying to overcome fear.

  “Kirk,” KerDaq said.

  Kirk held up his free hand for silence. KerDaq remained quiet and for the first time Kirk was thankful for a reasonable Klingon.

  Then Kirk bent toward Prescott. “I want KerDaq to hear what you have to say. Please, tell us what you said earlier, and explain how it all happened.”

  Prescott licked her thin lips. Her gaze darted from Kirk to the Klingon to McCoy before resting on Kirk again. She looked almost frightened, as if she were in a situation her brain couldn’t completely fathom. Kirk couldn’t even imagine being in her shoes.

  She took a deep breath, then glanced around at Folle, who nodded. When she turned back to Kirk, she seemed stronger and there was a light in her eyes.

  “We had hoped to supply all our people with unlimited power,” she said. “Our experiment was based on the largest moon of the ninth planet. It was the first to break up.”

  “This means nothing,” KerDaq said, almost spitting on the floor in disgust.

  “You are on my ship, KerDaq. You will listen to Prescott.”