Star Trek - TOS - Battlestations

by Diane Carey

  the frantic compound noise and Scanner's Tennessee

  twang. "Captain Kirk may be able to prevent her from

  doing so 2'

  "I can't make that assumption," I said, more

  sharply than I intended. "I won't let him down again."

  The determination in my voice caused silence be-

  hind me. It swelled up like a cloak and covered my

  s houlders. Whatever happened, I had to make it true.

  He was counting on me.

  As I stood there against the cold stone, every mus-

  cle in my body knotted, knowing that lives depended

  on my next decision, I realized the essence of the

  schooner Edith Keeler. Whoever the woman was,

  _ whatever she had been to James Kirk, she was now

  personified in square yardage of sailcloth, gleaming

  brightwork, brass, and bowspritmshe was what saved

  him from the horror of these hard moments in the life

  of a starship officer. It didn't get easier, as I had once

  hoped. I understood that now. I would never get used

  to these moments. I could only save myself from them,

  find some ship to sail away on, to become sane again

  and gather up what I needed to go back to space, just

  as he had learned to do. Even with cold ground

  beneath my feet, I felt once again the surging of the

  deck under me, with the deadly and beautiful ocean an

  arm's length away, nicely mastered. I heard once

  again the wind whistle inside the main, and I almost

  looked upward. If I could learn to pull those halyards

  and sheets at the right moments, maybe... just maybe

  . . I could pull the fight ropes here and get us out of

  this alive.

  178

  Key word maybe.

  No---I didn't want to hear that Shut up, Piper, and

  get to work.

  "Come on," I said before I'd even planned where to

  go from here.

  We made it safely across to the next building, a shed

  of some sort with a maze of wooden fences in pathetic

  disrepair, but terrific material to hide behind. Unless

  they spotted our actual movements, they'd never be

  able to pick out our forms in this mess.

  "Sarda," I began, "they must have some kind of

  communications board around here."

  He moved close, keeping himself balanced in an

  awkward position by holding onto the cross beam of a

  crooked fence. "Indeed. In Ursula's main lab. She had

  to be able to contact supply ships, and her guards, of

  course."

  "Just point in the right direction, will you?"

  He ignored my irascibility and quite simply pointed.

  We skulked across the paddock area, skirting fences

  upon fences, halfway around the farm until only a

  short expanse of open area lay between us and the

  main lab.

  "I'11 go alone," I said.

  Both arms. Not even a chance to get up. I looked to

  one side--a stern Vulcan truth. And the other side--

  Tennessee smoke.

  I let my head drop for a moment and took a deep

  breath. "Listen, both of you. ff I fall, then you'll still

  be free to try again. You heard what Captain Kirk said.

  This mission is more important than any one of us.

  Maybe more than all of us."

  Sarda's expression never flickered. He had no inten-

  tion of arguing, any more than he intended to let me go

  in there alone.

  It was Scanner who spoke. "ff we let you go,

  how're we gonna know what crazy thing to try next?

  Face it, Piper. Nobody thinks like you."

  179

  "Oh, thanks, Scanner, thanks a lot. And here I was,

  waiting for an oath of loyalty."

  "Oughta know better by now."

  I stole a glance at Sarda and was relieved to see that

  his mouth was drawn upward on one side and he was

  deliberately not looking at Scanner.

  "All right," I conceded. "I've got enough to fight. I

  don't need to be fighting you too. But stay in close

  formation. Sarda, you know the way in."

  "Roughly. I was not permitted to roam freely."

  "You lead then. Scanner, right behind him."

  Scanner moved into position. "Bet you wish you

  had a phaser," he teased as he shifted past me."

  "Hell, I wish I had a slingshot," I admitted. Only

  then did it occur to me that I probably could have

  made one out of available materials if I'd had my

  training screwed on straight. Luckily, neither of them

  thought of that, and I got away with it. "Go," I said

  quickly, taking advantage.

  My nerves electrified as we hurried across the open

  area, dodging searchlights as the beams swabbed the

  ground in search of us. Mornay must have been plan-

  ning the theft of transwarp for some time--at least

  since the failure of Vice Admiral Rittenhouse's scheme

  with the dreadnought. She must have had this com-

  pound set up immediately afterward, and had the

  security system already activated when she, Perren,

  and Sarda arrived, though I now believed Mornay and

  Perren had planned this from the moment Vice Admi-

  ral Rittenhouse died. Even now, sporadic explosions

  and crackling voltage told us the chain reaction of

  sabotage was still running. Kirk must have found some

  way to trigger those booby traps. It was the only

  explanation that made sense--and I really needed

  things to make sense right now.

  Except the part about Dr. Boma. My heart withered

  as I remembered that element. I deeply wished it

  hadn't made such sense. I had a sudden, absurd,

  180

  overwhelming desire to stand up straight and yell at

  the top of my lungs, "CAPTAIN KIRK, YOUR SHIP

  IS IN DEEP TROUBLE! WHERE ARE

  YOOOOOOOOO?" Luckily, I managed to keep it to

  myseff for the moment. Somehow, I'd find him. To-

  gether we'd make our way back to that distant

  schooner with the mysterious name.

  Even as the reassuring thought filled me with

  strength, we slipped into an alcove and were met with

  a sight that siphoned the strength out again.

  A few meters away, between the main lab and a

  carefully arranged pile of file crates, stood Ursula

  Mornay and four mercenary guards. They held their

  phaser rifles sighted coldly upon Captain Kirk and Mr.

  Spock.

  I crouched, almost by reflex alone, and pulled Sarda

  down beside me. Scanner saw our movements and

  dropped instantly. Our blood cooled as we watched

  and listened.

  The captain and Spock stood side by side, unflinch-

  ing before the phaser rifles, but definitely sobered. She

  had them. Somehow she had caught them. But what

  about McCoy and Merete?

  "How'd she get them?" Scanner whispered.

  "Shh. Listen."

  "... really think you can pilot a starship with a

  handful of hired guns?" Kirk was putting to Mornay.

  "I have crewpeople, Captain," Mornay said as she

  opened and tuned a hand communicator. "All I have

  to do is pick them up. And you'll help me do that, or

  your crew will remain in their semi
coma until they die.

  I have a knife at your throat, Capta'm Kirk. I promise,

  I will cut you."

  Scanner's voice buzzed faintly at my ear. "What's

  she tawkin' about? She got 'em strapped down in front

  of old movies, or what?"

  "Obviously she has the crew hostage somehow,"

  Sarda whispered back, even more faintly.

  181

  "A whole starship?"

  I shushed them with a swipe of my hand, and myself

  was stilled by the expressive glance Kirk exchanged

  with Spock. I ached to read his mind the way Spock

  could. I saw a thousand thoughts in that one glance,

  truly a trade of minds, perhaps of plans. So close...

  I pressed my hands on the jut of wood that partially

  hid us in our alcove shadow, pressed until the wood

  cut hard into my palms and forced me to accept the

  damning reality that Captain Kirk was out of reach, at

  least for the moment. My drumming message would

  have to stay inside my head even longer.

  Mornay brought the communicator to her lips.

  "Samuel? Have the guards beamed aboard?"

  From the instrument in her hand came a dull buzzing

  voice. "All who checked in are aboard now. Some are

  still missing and we can't seem to find them."

  Mornay paced a few steps and eyed Captain Kirk,

  who remained carefully impassive. "I'm not sur-

  prised," she said. "As soon as you're ready, beam up

  the captain and Commander Spock. I'm sure they'll be

  cooperative, but have the guards ready just in case."

  "They're ready, believe me. We've dealt with those

  gentlemen before."

  The voice was distorted by the distance between us

  and the communicator itself, but there was no mistak-

  ing that arrogant cadence. Boma.

  My message to Kirk fizzled within me. He already

  knew. And Boma had already won. The Enterprise

  was in orbit, and Boma was in control. It seemed

  unfathomable that one man could incapacitate 400-

  plus people who were supposedly Star !eet's best,

  but then again, I was supposedly Star Fleet's best too.

  I drew my shoulders inward, fighting a terrible

  shiver. Luck does run out, even for Star F!eet's best.

  Perhaps my luck had been spent on the dreadnought

  affair. Maybe that was the best I'd ever do. Maybe I

  couldn't beat that act. It was hard enough trying to get

  182

  used to being called Lieutenant Commander when I

  hadn't even completely gotten used to being called

  Lieutenant. Everything I did seemed to be running

  about ten minutes tardy.

  Incapacitate a whole starship crew? Damn her, that

  wasn't fair! I gritted my teeth and forced my insecurity

  to become anger. Anger was workable stuff, and she

  could only kill me once.

  I dug what was left of my fingernails into the slat of

  wood and listened harder.

  Mornay was fiddling with the communicator. "Per-

  ren, are you there?"

  Static from the damaged electrical system caused

  the frequencies to jump, but soon the cool voice came

  through. "I am making final installments in the porta-

  ble memory."

  "Hurry up. We're ready to go."

  "What about the guards?"

  "They're already aboard the starship. We'll prepare

  to leave the solar system as soon as you beam up.

  We're going now."

  "I shall be there momentarily."

  Without the courteous, if mechanical, sign-offs usu-

  ally used over communications channels, Mornay

  flatly readjusted her instrument and hailed the ship

  again. I kept my eyes on Kirk. He was absolutely

  unmoved, as relaxed as he had been during those long,

  quiet hours of ocean crossing when there was nothing

  to do but watch the sea roll. He wasn't tensed, ready

  to attack, waiting for that minute flinch that would give

  him h is cue. Spock also stood calmly. Only when the

  eerie whine of a transporter beam caused my skin to

  tingle did I realize why the two officers made no effort

  to free themselves; they wanted to get back on board

  the starship. If there were fights to be fought, at least

  Enterprise would know its guardians were where they

  belonged, doing what she needed them to do.

  As we watched, the clutch of oddly matched person-

  183

  alities dissolved into elongated prisms, and dissap-

  peared.

  Without a pause, I redirected my thoughts. "Let's

  go. The main lab, Sarda." "This way."

  We got about three steps before Scanner grabbed

  my arm and said, "Hold it. Yawl aren't gonna believe

  this. Look what I see."

  What he saw was two familiar figures clumsily

  skulking their way across the compound, heading in

  the opposite direction from where we were going.

  Before I could stop him, Scanner had stuck his fingers

  in his mouth and let fly a. shrill whistle. Seconds later,

  McCoy and Merete were gathered into our little nest.

  "Where've you been?" McCoy hissed, eyes wide.

  "Where're you been?" Scanner retorted.

  "Looking for you."

  "I can top that," Scanner crowed. "We bin lookin'

  for everybody."

  I squirmed between them. "Scanner, shut up or I'll

  cork your face. Doctor, what do you know?"

  "Didn't you hear that conversation?" Dr. McCoy

  flipped a hand back at the now-empty compound.

  "Only the end of it."

  "Oh." His eyebrows worked as he steadied himself

  to tell us what he had hoped we already knew. In one

  way he hated having to repeat it. In another, he was

  quaking to get it out. The conflict within him showed

  on his face, at once anguished and enraged. "Boma

  waited until the ship was in Orbital status, then he

  gassed the whole ship with a hypnogenetic com-

  pound."

  "A who?" Scanner blurted.

  "A narcotic. Sleep-inducing gas. Deep and danger-

  ous sleep. It causes severe reduction of metabolic

  rate." He inched closer, as though to intensify his

  words and used one hand to illustrate the terrible,

  intangible truth. "Anyone who ingests it can literally

  84

  sleep himself to death unless an antidote is provided

  soon enough."

  "The knife at Kirk's throat," I murmured.

  "It's more than that," Merete said, glancing at Dr.

  McCoy as though she knew what he was thinking,

  what he was feeling. "It's a progressive coma. The

  time element makes a difference. Mornay didn't tell

  the captain that. Maybe she doesn't even know it."

  "That class of drug is an idiot's playground," Mc-

  Coy insisted, his fist now clenched. Suddenly I saw

  something in him that I hadn't before. He'd always

  seemed amusing to me in his moments of exaspera-

  tion, but now he moved beyond exasperation to down-

  fight bitterness. He seemed to feel about the Enter-

  prise crew the way Mr. Scott felt about the ship itself.

  The crew was his. His children. His expression grew

  stony with violence
as he thought of what Mornay had

  done to them. "Many drugs in that category don't

  have antidotes at all," he said, nearly growling. "She

  might not know that or even care. She might just as

  easily be lying to Jim by telling him that she can undo

  what Boma's done. The crew might already be dead."

  His fatherly wrath, and the accompanying sense of

  helplessness, spurred me to convictions even beyond

  my own. I leaned toward him and promised, "You'll

  get your chance to turn the tables, sir. We'll get there

  somehow."

  "Yes, we must," Sarda interrupted. "Perren cannot

  possibly know about this aspect. He would never

  participate. I'll take you to the lab." He started away.

  The quickness, the suddenness of his movements trig-

  gered a foreboding deep inside me. He was hurrying

  now, but his motivations had shifted. Some hidden

  imperative in his movements told me that, and the

  echo on his heels was Perren, Perren, Perren. Was

  there enough logic in the galaxy to turn Perren now?

  Sarda disappeared into a narrow doorway, leaving

  only the question behind.

  185

  I motioned Dr. McCoy and Merete after him, mean-

  ing to bring up the rear guard.

  Scanner stepped past me. "Don't worry. It's just

  hero worship."

  Sharply I answered, "I can't count on that."

  Unease set in on top of the fear. I set my determina-

  tion on kill and pushed my motley group onward into

  the lab building after Sarda. My memory kept scouring

  the vision of Kirk's face, his glance at Spock, Spock's

  silent response, for some hint of their plans, or at least

  their opinions. No answers yet, though. I was still on

  my own. Rats! Things were really getting bad when I

  couldn't even pretend that Captain Kirk had all the

  solutions in his pocket.

  Sarda paused at the end of one hallway, confused by

  the dimness and trying to remember which corridor

  held the main lab. The passages were narrow and

  moist, the stone walls considerably older than those of

  the building we'd been held in. We had no idea how

  long the farm had been abandoned, but a faint animal

  scent still clung to the mossy walls. The corridor was a

  dead end, with only one doorway at the left.

  "Sarda," I called quietly before he reached the

  door.