Star Trek - TOS - Battlestations

by Diane Carey

  nothing but a shrug as explanation. In the reflection I

  saw Scanner tensely reach for the lid of a crate. Not

  much of a weapon, but ff I had him scared, imagine

  what I was doing for the guards.

  I didn't have to imagine. Vexation colored the faces

  outside the blue duraglass.

  "Piper," Scanner began, a tremor giving him away,

  "people are morons until proven otherwise. You're

  courtin' live examples."

  Several responses popped into my mind, but to

  answer him would be also to destroy the string of rage

  building outside the door. By now I had pressed up to

  the blue window tight enough to see both ends of the

  short corridor and keep all four guards itchy. They

  mumbled at each other, but they couldn't speak out

  loud. They didn't like my intense interest. Grass

  Moustache could barely stand to blink his eyes any-

  more, because he knew I would still be there when

  they opened. His three compatriots had better control,

  but were slowly losing it.

  But I had singled out my target.

  I focused on the pair of large coffee-brown eyes

  above that moustache. Eyes that loathed me. Ah, but

  169

  there is no peace in the land of pensionaries. You hire

  yourself out for a questionable living, you take what

  you get. Sometimes you get stared at.

  This was more than being stared at. As the moments

  ticked by, I owned him.

  His lips peeled back again as the rage boiled up-

  ward. His shoulder blades hammered against the op-

  posite wall as he pushed himself off and brought the

  phaser rifle up. One coal-hard eye snapped shut, the

  other lining me up instantly in his sights. ff only it had

  been courage holding me there, I would have had a

  better story to take home.

  My legs turned to jelly. I was held in place only by

  sheer astonishment that my ploy had worked--too

  well.

  "Piper, get down!" Sarda shouted. He slid off the

  crate, but not soon enough.

  Grass Moustache fired his phaser rifle. A single

  lance of bright orange light decorated the gray corridor

  and made the diogen touches glow. I dropped to a

  crouch, covering my head. Above me came the sicken-

  ing sizzle of cooked metal and melting duraglass. As

  the window disintegrated, I also heard Grass Mous-

  tache's fierce growl. Then shuffling, and another

  voice.

  "Idiot! Cease firing. We haven't got any place else

  to keep them!"

  "We'll keep them in an old shoe!"

  "Get hold of yourself! Don't lose your pay over

  nothing."

  Cautiously I looked up when the sizzling began to

  fade. The upper corner of the door was dissolved,

  along with a ragged portion of duraglass. Along the

  edge of the glass, a phosphorescent red glow was

  darkening as it cooled. Not enough. Not big enough.

  My hope sank.

  I pressed my hands on the floor, wondering if I

  dared stand up and show myself again through what

  remained of that window.

  The chance never came. An explosion rocked the

  lab, a great boom that threw us all to the floor and

  vibrated in our bones. It was very close--maybe even

  this building. The ceiling crumbled and dropped

  chunks of plaster and stone in dusty clouds.

  "Take cover!" I shouted across the room. I was

  gratified to see the two of them huddled beside a huge

  cooling cabinet as part of the side wall expanded into a

  barrier of loosened bricks. Unfortunately, it didn't

  collapse. On the other hand, if it did, would it take the

  whole ceiling--and us--with it?

  From across the compound came another explosion,

  much more distant this time, but much more powerful.

  It set off a string of popping noises, as though pressur-

  ized containers were being exposed to too much heat.

  Commotion broke out in the corridor. From the

  floor, I listened.

  "What's happening?"

  "Hellfire, that's what! Come on!"

  "We're assigned here, not out there."

  "Move, I said!"

  Then, new voices from down the corridor

  "Where's Lugrode?"

  "I don't know. I can't find anybody from the city

  side."

  "What do you mean, you can't find 'em?"

  "They're gone, that's what I slavin' mean!"

  "Two of you come with me 2'

  "Ain't movin' 2'

  There was a distinct thud and a groan as authority

  was rudely reestablished.

  "You! Stay on that door."

  I got warily to my feet, still hunched down, but now

  able to peek through the bottom of the duraglass at the

  scampering mercenaries. The voices were a cacoph-

  170 171

  ony now, impossible to separate. Only when a man

  skidded in from the south side with a startling an-

  nouncement did I begin to feel the revitalization of

  hope.

  "The security signal on the weapons locker is

  jammed !" the man howled, as though somehow it was

  pinching him to be cut off from his weapons supply.

  I spun toward Scanner and Sarda, fanning my way

  through settling stone dust. "They're cut off! And

  people are missing! He's in!"

  "Huh?" Scanner blustered. "Who's in?"

  "Captain Kirk! I don't know how, but-he's inside!"

  He slumped and rolled his eyes. "Aw, Piper, I wish

  yawI'd get off that nag and ride a real horse for a

  change." He sat down wearily.

  I dragged him to his feet. "Get up," I growled.

  "We're getting out of here."

  He stiflened, but the doubt lingered. "How?"

  I had been gazing at the mutilated bricks of the wall,

  but now I spun on him. "Stop asking that and start

  thinking it! You heard. They're down to two guards on

  us and they're stuck with the weapons they have in

  hand."

  "Sure," he complained. "Those puny little phaser

  rifles you could shoot a moon down with !"

  "Get used to it, mister, we're getting out. Now."

  Scanner raked both hands through his hair. "Dang!

  You're even starting to sound like him!"

  His statement caught me by surprise. And an even

  bigger surprise--I didn't like it. My own silence sat on

  me like a rock. My lips clamped shut, my face aching.

  The smoke hurt my eyes.

  Sounds of demolition continued to filter through the

  outside walls, punctuated by electrical crackling.

  Sarda was already palming the damaged wall. If he

  carried any of Scanner's doubts, he never let me see

  them. He may or may not have believed we could

  172

  break through that wall somehow, but he knew none-

  theless that I would never be satisfied unless we tried.

  What he didn't realize yet was that I would never be

  satisfied until we succeeded. I'd die in this place

  before I would force Captain Kirk to have to rescue

  me. Somehow he had already managed to get inside,

  confound the guards, put several of them out of com-

  m
ission, cut off their weapons supply, and set off a

  chain of explosions to cripple Mornay and Perren. He

  was a tough act to follow. I would never be satisfied to

  merely applaud. If I went down on Argelius, this stage

  would have the marks of my fingernails in it.

  Scanner's words, fraught with annoyance and the

  truth of fatigue, haunted me. I began to question my

  driving force even as .we picked at the bucking stone

  wall and tried to wedge leftover computer parts be-

  tween the large bricks. No more bursts of courage

  came to mask my fear; now I had to deal with it all.

  With the silence came an overwhelming need to get

  back into space, into space vehicles, to systems I

  knew and weapons I understood, to the place where I

  had experienced one great triumph before. I began to

  focus on that. If only I could get back into space...

  Before you can outguess an enemy in three dimen-

  sions, you've got to be able to maneuver in two.

  "Fine," I spat under my breath.

  This drew unwanted attention. Sarda hesitated. "I

  beg your pardon?"

  "Both of you get back." I moved in on the wall, not

  really knowing what I would do when I felt the cool,

  broad bricks beneath my palms. The bricks had shifted

  against each other, leaving uneven gaps where mo-

  ments ago there had been only creases. There had to

  be a weak spot somewhere. "All right," I said through,

  gritted teeth, agreeing with yet another unheard urge

  from you-know-who in my memory, "when in doubt,

  do it the hard way."

  173

  "I'm afraid t'ask," Scanner muttered.

  "Where's something we can throw at it? What's in

  those crates?"

  I moved toward the heavy metallic storage crates,

  ignoring the shuffle behind me and the errant conver-

  sation.

  Sarda's voice was lowered. "... useless to attempt

  to talk her out of it."

  Then Scanner, more like a hiss. "Talk her out of it?

  Hell, I'm not even going near her!"

  "Keep an eye on those guards at the door. Make

  sure they're not watching," I said as I shoved one of

  the crates toward the weakened wall, then doubled

  back for a second crate. "Help me lift this."

  Insanity must be contagious, because I didn't get

  any arguments. Scanner heaved a doubtful sigh but

  made no comments as the three of us wrestled the

  second crate onto the top of the first. Sarda's Vulcan

  strength allowed him to serve as anchorman while

  Scanner and I lifted and steered the crate into place,

  wincing at the screech of metal against metal.

  "Okay," I said. "One more."

  "One more?" Scanner howled. "We jus' barely got

  that one up there!"

  "That one in the corner should do."

  "But that one's empty!"

  "I know it's empty. How else could we lift it that

  high?"

  "Piper, I think yawl need shore leave."

  "No thanks. I just had all I need of Captain Kirk's

  idea of shore leave. Come on. We haven't got all day."

  The empty crate was soon in place easily enough,

  high atop the other two crates, looming just under the

  plaster ceiling.

  "Now what?" Scanner asked. The same question,

  silent now, hovered in Sarda's expression.

  I wiped my palms on my thighs. "Help me get up

  there."

  174

  "What?"

  "We'll never find enough junk in here to add up to

  the weight of a person, so I'll provide the weight to

  break the wall. It's simple."

  "It's nuts! You'll kill yourself."

  "Beats staying in here. Come on, help me."

  I didn't want to have to make it an order, yet they

  both sensed the nearness of that extreme. I wasn't yet

  comfortable with command status, but if I had a

  phaser I would use it, and rank was a kind of weapon.

  Beside me, Sarda stood silent, hardly blinking. I

  looked at him.

  Softly, perhaps seeking approval, I told him, "It has

  to be done. There isn't time for alternatives."

  His hands disappeared behind his back. Slowly he

  nodded. "I would prefer to take the risk myself," he

  said.

  "I know." My voice hovered between us. "But it's

  my responsibility."

  Chivalry wasn't dead; they helped me climb into the

  highest crate. The metal was cold against my thighs

  and shoulders as I huddled inside and shut the crate,

  then braced myself as well as possible. A shiver

  wracked my arms and legs. Seconds passed as I fought

  to control it. I had to be ready, body and mind. My

  weight had to be used correctly.

  "Ready," I said. Lying, of course. "On three."

  Three came a lot sooner than I expected. I rocked

  the top of the tower while Scanner ticked off, "One

  .. two... three!"

  Into my small, dark world came the sickening sensa-

  tion of the ground dropping out from under me. The

  planet tipped. My head struck the crate's metal wall.

  My own weight crushed down onto the back of my

  neck, forcing me into a ball. Then came an abrupt jolt

  as the crate struck stone. Within the crate, nose

  doubled on itself and pummeled my eardrums. I was

  falling again, turning again.

  175

  Another jolt. This one bent the crate into a weird

  geometric form, and me with it.

  The crate struck the floor and continued to tumble at

  least one whole turn. The door was ajar now, bathing

  my confused eyes with raw yellow light. Diogen! The

  corridor!

  Twisting painfully around, I kicked the door out-

  ward and rolled out of the crate onto a pile of de-

  stroyed bricks in time to see Scannerand Sarda stum-

  ble through a ragged opening in the wall. At the same

  moment, the two remaining guards, eyes bugged with

  astonishment, skidded around the corner to gawk at

  us, too stunned even to raise their phaser rifles.

  It was Scanner who bolted to action first. He swept

  up a chunk of brick and pitched it hard. It flew down

  the corridor and struck one guard where his hand was

  gripping the phaser rifle. He choked and dropped the

  weapon between his knees.

  Sarda was ready. He moved in quickly, wrestling

  the guard down, bracing the phaser rifle between them.

  Without thinking, I grasped a brick and gave it a two-

  handed heave at the second guard. He saw it coming,

  but never had a chance to dodge. The square of gray

  brick slammed into his chest and drove him against a

  door. He collapsed, gasping. Only then did Sarda

  succeed in pinching his own opponent unconscious.

  He swirled around, his eyes afire, his arms flexed

  and ready.

  For a head-clearing moment I remained on one knee

  among the rocks, gathering eye contact with my crew

  before plunging onward into the storm. We needed

  it.

  I shoved myself to my feet, quaking with conviction.

  "Let's get out of this squirrel cage."

&n
bsp; The outside of the lab building was even in more

  disarray than the inside. Once we escaped into the

  dark openness, my sense of immediacy was prickled

  176

  with a sense of vulnerability. Caution returned where

  moments ago it would only have been a burden. Sarda

  and Scanner followed me as we twined our way across

  a compound, hiding from running mercenaries who

  were scattered about, desperately looking for some-

  thing to shoot at. Us.

  I pressed my shoulders back against a wall as I

  peeked around its corner, motioning for Scanner and

  Sarda to close up tight behind me. My fingers made the

  shape of a phaser.

  Keeping his voice low, Sarda asked, "What are you

  planning?"

  "Find the captain," I said. My skin tightened as

  three mercenaries trotted past our hiding place, head-

  ing for the main lab. Surely by now they knew we were

  free. Well, we were out; free was something else.

  "How we gonna find them without communica-

  tions?" Scanner asked. "They could be anywhere in a

  kilometer radius."

  "They're inside this compound, Scanner," I in-

  sisted. "The explosions we've been hearing have got

  to be Mornay's booby traps. Somehow Kirk and

  Spock are setting them off. It's just a fabulous tactic,

  that's all, letting the enemy provide the firepower

  behind the confusion. I should've thought of it the

  minute Perren mentioned the security system. Kirk

  should've been an urban guerrilla."

  "With his track record," Scanner pointed out, "he

  prob'ly was. I dunno if we should try horning in on his

  business."

  I relaxed for a moment and peered at him. "You

  never want to try anything. You're always afraid to

  take a risk. Why'd you ever join Star Fleet? Why

  didn't you stay in Tennessee and raise pigs?" "I'm 'fraida pigs."

  Simple question, simple answer. He ducked a swat

  from me, and I shook my head, unable to hide the grin

  that pushed its way up.

  1 77

  "If Mornay's going up to Enterprise," I thought

  aloud, "we've got to get back to Rex."

  "Like I said," Scanner pointed out, "we need a

  communicator to key into the automatic transporter

  link."

  "Ursula may not reach the starship," Sarda said

  then. His voice was a sudden, steadying buffet against