Demands of Honor

by Kevin Ryan

  Doctor McCoy leaned down and said to Kirk, “Jim, when was the last time you slept?”

  “Slept?” Kirk asked.

  “Yes, when did you last sleep?”

  For a moment Kirk wasn’t sure. Certainly, not since they had received the distress call. Before that …

  “See, Captain, that is the point. If you have to think that long about it, it’s been too long since you’ve done it.”

  “Bones,” Kirk started to protest, but McCoy cut him off.

  “Jim, it will be hours before we hear from the shuttle. Until then, there’s nothing you can do for them. But when we do hear, they will need you to be in reasonably good condition.”

  Kirk almost protested out of habit, but stopped himself for two reasons. One, because it wouldn’t do any good. And two, because McCoy was right. There was nothing he could do for Michael and the others on the bridge. As he stood up, he said, “Mister Spock, let me know the second the shuttle appears on long-range sensors.”

  “Of course, Captain.” Spock had been up for at least as long as Kirk himself, but Vulcans could go without sleep for days or longer without any significant cost to their performance.

  “And, Captain, you should stop by the dining room on your way,” McCoy said.

  Kirk nodded, realizing that the doctor was right again. He stopped into the dining room and picked up a chicken sandwich and a cup of coffee. He would have his meal in his quarters, where he could monitor the situation while he ate.

  Sitting at his computer terminal, Kirk realized that he had been hungry. He ate mechanically and quickly, but he was glad he had eaten—he could not afford to get light-headed or be thinking about food later.

  That done, his thoughts kept going back to Sam Fuller and his father. Michael Fuller had been the best person to lead the rescue. Kirk’s decision to send him was right and perfectly logical, as Mister Spock would say. However, it might also well mean that Kirk had sent two friends, father and son, to their deaths just months apart.

  The condolence message to Michael Fuller reporting his son’s death was among the most difficult of Kirk’s career. To whom would Kirk send the father’s condolence message? He knew that Michael had never married Sam’s mother. Was there anyone left to receive the transmission? Anyone whom Kirk had not put on a path to death?

  The intercom beeped once and Mister Spock’s voice came on. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Captain, but long-range sensors indicate that the Klingon cruiser D’k Tahg has entered system 7348.”

  “Thank you, Mister Spock.” The captain realized that despite his doctor’s orders, he would not be getting any sleep for some time.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ORION-BUILT MINING FACILITY

  SYSTEM 7348

  FEDERATION SPACE

  THE CLAN WAS LOOKING to Adon, waiting for word. Surely, the son of Gorath would know what to do. Surely, he would have their path mapped out. Adon was sorry to disappoint them. At the moment, he had his grief and his anger, but little else to offer them. And time for action was growing short, he could feel it. Night was falling.

  There was one thing he could do. One thing that tradition demanded and his father deserved. When Uncle approached, Adon said, “We need to bury my father immediately.”

  Uncle nodded and the clan went about their task. They didn’t rush the ritual, not exactly, but they moved with purpose as if they all understood that something would be required of them, and soon. Adon silently asked his father for guidance again and again. He wished for only the smallest part of his father’s wisdom.

  No answers came, at least not that could be heard over the roar of his grief, anger, and his desire to take the life of his father’s murderer. When the ritual was finished and night had fallen, Uncle and Bethe were at his side. He felt their eyes and thoughts on him. They were waiting.

  Like the others.

  Still, his anger roared in his blood and in his chest. And then he had it, not an answer, but a beginning. He found that he had something to say to his clan after all: “My people, I am not my father. I cannot tell you now that I know a path to victory. I have only the burning of my blood and a single task that I must perform.” He could see them waiting for his next words, looking to him as their leader despite what he had just said. “Tonight, in the darkness, I will descend to the mine through its shaft and take the crystals we pulled from the ground with our strength.”

  “The crystals are rocks to us, valuable only to those from the stars. The risk would be great. What purpose would that serve?” Uncle said.

  “Revenge,” Adon said. “At least the first and smallest part of it. My blood burns now to end Gurn’s treacherous, pitiful life, but that battle would be over before it would begin. They have many weapons, and the power of the green-skins’ mine. And they have their new alliance with the Klingons, who tried once to destroy us. I take the crystals because Gurn wants them, because his Klingon masters want them. I take them because we won them with the courage and blood of our people under the leadership of Gorath of our clan.”

  There it was: purpose. He could feel it. If it wasn’t his father’s spirit speaking to him, it was close enough for Adon. Finally, he had a task that satisfied part of the calling of his blood and seemed to satisfy the clan. Once again, they were looking to him as their leader. On this small matter at least, he hoped he would not disappoint them.

  “I go now and I go alone,” Adon said, heading immediately for his flying machine, Uncle and Bethe still by his side.

  “I will go with you,” Bethe said.

  “No, I must go alone.”

  “You have a plan then?”

  Adon hesitated for a moment before he said, “Of course.”

  “How are you going to carry all of the crystals by yourself?”

  This time his hesitation was longer. Bethe kept her eyes on him the entire time. “Your plan?”

  “I am still working on some of the details.”

  “Whatever the plan is, it will benefit from another pilot. You may be the best we have, but, after you, there is no one better than I.”

  “No, my father is the best pilot we have,” Adon said reflexively, but he knew when he was beaten. “But it is true that you are the best after me. I welcome your assistance.”

  “You accept good counsel, like your father,” Uncle said, looking at him with that maddening approval. He had just been outmaneuvered by one of his childhood playmates, and Uncle seemed to think that it was another sign that he was a worthy leader. Adon shrugged and climbed onto the flying machine that had been his father’s as Bethe climbed onto the one Adon himself had used when he and his father had raced.

  Adon switched on the talking device. “Low power. Keep the weapons off.” It would keep the machine’s noise to a minimum.

  “Of course,” Bethe said.

  “Follow me.” He took the vehicle into the air. He stayed close to the ground, below the level of the trees. The mine had cameras pointed in all directions—the green-skins had guarded their work carefully. In the dark, the craft would be harder to see, particularly if they kept to the cover of the trees for as long as possible. The same cameras could also see in the dark, but Adon doubted that Gurn and his people even knew about that, let alone how to use the monitoring equipment.

  The trip took longer at that altitude because the constant maneuvering around trees meant they had to keep their speed low. Still, Adon pushed his own craft to the limit of safety, and Bethe matched his movements. She was perhaps the only other member of their clan left who could do that.

  They had to travel to the rear of the mine, then follow the rim of the great pit the green-skins had dug into their world. It was wide and so deep that if a person fell into it, he would have plenty of time to consider his fate before he reached the bottom.

  Adon reached the rear of the mine complex and motioned to Bethe. She nodded and they started their descent. There were cameras in the shaft, but Adon doubted that Gurn would have thought to have them manned.
The computer could have watched the cameras, but Gurn would have had to think to ask it to do so.

  Still, there was a chance they would be seen. If that happened, Adon was prepared to fight. In fact, he would welcome the opportunity to satisfy the burning of his blood.

  They descended for several minutes and Adon watched as they passed level after level of the mine. There were few lights and no people that Adon could see—and more important, no alarms.

  Finally, they reached the level they needed and Adon saw an ore hauler. That changed things. He had considered simply tossing the crystals into the great pit and letting them be smashed, but they had been hard won and he was reluctant to let them go. The ore hauler was essentially a large platform with waist-high sides. It was large enough for several people and still had a cargo area big enough for twenty containers.

  A new plan formed in his mind, this one complete with details. He motioned to Bethe, who nodded and landed her craft on ground as he landed his directly onto the ore hauler. He hit a switch on his controls, and a metallic clang told him the flying machine was magnetically locked into place on the hauler.

  That done, he stepped off the hauler and drew his weapon. Bethe had hers out as well as they surveyed the inside of the mine. There was no movement and only the red lights that ran at night were on. It was silent except for the dim hum of the equipment.

  “There is no one here,” Bethe whispered as they moved forward. The storage area was nearby and open. There had been no reason to lock the crystals away before, and not surprisingly, Gurn had lacked the imagination to take any additional precautions. The twelve containers were there, and a quick inspection told Adon they were full. By attaching Orion lifting plates, Adon and Bethe were able to load the containers on the hauler quickly and lock them in place.

  He was about to go when another idea came to him. It would take some time, but he thought it worth it. In a few minutes, they managed to place empty cargo containers where the ones they were taking had been. Then they headed for their craft.

  “Can you manage the hauler?” Bethe asked, her voice even.

  “I will try, thank you,” Adon said. Of course, he had piloted them before. Compared to the flying machines—which were agile predators—the haulers were slow and lumbering beasts. However, to be fair, they were designed primarily to go up and down carrying heavy loads. Adon would be asking a bit more of this one today, but not much.

  The machine powered up quickly, but far from silently. If Gurn was listening, the alarm would come any second now. If that happened, Adon would have to climb onto the flying machine and abandon the hauler.

  But again, no alarm came. By silent agreement, Adon took the hauler into the shaft and starting ascending as Bethe kept pace beside him, glancing over at him nervously from time to time. The trip took longer than the one down, and Adon kept waiting for an alarm or for Gurn’s people to appear on flying machines, but no one came. Finally, they were out of the shaft.

  There was no way to take the hauler through the trees, so Adon kept it just above them. That made the journey back quicker but more dangerous. Again he waited for pursuit, but they reached the village without incident. He realized what a fool Gurn was as he landed the craft. That this man had killed a man as great as his father seemed impossible.

  Stepping down to meet his uncle, Adon realized that he had struck the first blow against Gurn and his plans. There was a small measure of satisfaction in that. Well, he meant to take even greater satisfaction and take it soon.

  Bethe was quickly by his side and Adon realized that she had been there since news of his father’s death.

  “You have Gurn’s rocks?” Uncle said, a smile on his lips.

  “Yes, apparently Gurn and his people were all sleeping,” Adon said.

  “What now, Adon?” Uncle asked.

  Adon was surprised to see that he had an answer to that question.

  “Sublight speed, Captain. We have entered the system,” the pilot announced.

  “Science Officer, any sign of the Enterprise?” Koloth asked.

  “No, Captain.”

  Karel was surprised. How could the Federation ignore an incursion into their space by a Klingon warship? What possible emergency could be more serious than that?

  “Excellent,” Councillor Duras said. “The humans must fear to face us, even now.”

  Few Klingons would disagree with that assessment of humans, but Karel knew it was false. From Koloth’s face, Karel could see that Captain Koloth felt the same way.

  Duras stepped forward and said, “Full impulse to the second planet.”

  To his credit, the pilot ignored the councillor and looked at Koloth, who smiled and gave the order. “Three-quarter impulse to the second planet.”

  There were smiles and satisfied grunts among the bridge crew as the ship made its way. Challenging the councillor was dangerous, but Duras had already conspired to kill Koloth, so there was little point for him to try to curry Duras’s favor—which was not the captain’s style anyway.

  The conflict between the two men would come out into the open before much longer. Soon enough, Duras would start down his treacherous course. It was a course that Duras had known Koloth would not follow, which was why the councillor had offered Karel the ship.

  “Captain, have the transporter room on standby to transport me and twenty of my warriors to the surface,” Duras requested.

  Koloth nodded. “I will send First Officer Karel and twenty additional warriors.”

  “I need no assistance,” Duras said.

  “Of course not, but my crew would benefit from observing you win a victory for the empire.”

  There was complete silence on the bridge as Duras looked at Koloth. If looks could kill, Koloth would be on the other side of the River of Blood.

  “As you know, I am content to leave you in command of this ship as long as you understand that I am in command of this mission,” Duras said.

  “No one disputes your authority,” Koloth said, but Karel could hear a yet in his captain’s tone. “But I need my people to assess any possible danger to this ship.”

  Duras gave Koloth an unpleasant smile. “Send your team, but I will accept no interference on the surface.”

  Koloth nodded and turned to Karel. “First Officer Karel, select your crew and prepare for transport.”

  Karel headed for the door, mentally compiling a list of the Klingons he wanted by his side. He needed good warriors. However, he also had to make sure that enough of the best fighters remained on board. While Duras was on the surface, Koloth and the ship would still be in danger from the large number of Duras’s soldiers.

  For now, Karel and Koloth would be fighting a battle against shadows. In this arena, Duras would have the advantage. But sooner or later, the fight would have to come into the open and Karel vowed to be ready.

  Chapter Fifteen

  SHUTTLECRAFT GALILEO

  KLINGON SPACE

  Fuller knew they had to move quickly or the Klingons would likely kill their captives before the team arrived, unless they could keep the Klingons too busy to do it. He quickly scanned the squad, who all had their helmets on now. “Everyone sealed in?” The squad confirmed, and Fuller hit the button to decompress the shuttle. In seconds, there would be a complete vacuum inside, creating an atmosphere no more hospitable than open space.

  Fuller clicked on his built-in communicator. “This configuration has two levels in the command and propulsion section with four air locks total, two on each side of the ship with one on each level. There is also a small air lock in the rear at the end of the access shaft.” The shaft was a tunnel that ran above the cargo containers, connecting them and giving the crew access to each.

  “Parmet and Quatrocchi, you’re with me on the port side. Jawer and McCalmon, you take the starboard air locks. Baxter and Jameson, you take the rear air lock,” Fuller said. The rear air lock was the least likely to be defended and would be the easiest to get into. However, once inside, the
y would be nearly sitting ducks with a long straight path in front of them and little or no cover.

  A red light came on, telling them that the shuttle was clear of air, and Fuller opened the hatch. He stared out into the vacuum of space and had to push aside the twenty-five-year-old memories of his friends and crew-mates blasted out into that abyss by Klingons who had boarded their ship.

  “Good luck,” Fuller said to Baxter and Jameson, who launched themselves, one at a time, into space. The hull of the Klingon ship was maybe eight meters away. The trip took seconds and they hit the ship fairly gently, grasping it with their magnetic boots.

  “We’re on,” Baxter’s voice was heard though the comm system in their helmets.

  “Get in position and wait for my signal,” Fuller told them. Quatrocchi immediately piloted them to the command segment of the ship and brought the shuttle to a stop. Fuller could feel the seconds ticking by. He didn’t want the Klingons to have time to get into suits and meet them in space. Their plan would work best if the squad faced the Klingons on board the ship.

  Jawer and McCalmon were the first out. Then, Parmet and Quatrocchi. Fuller was last, using his arms to push off the shuttle door and aiming feetfirst at the top of the hull. For a moment, he was flying in space, then his feet clicked onto the ship. Using only hand signals, he sent Jawer and McCalmon on their way. Then he and his team headed for the aft air locks.

  “Get us ready on the upper air lock,” Fuller said to his people. “I’ll take the lower lock.” Walking in magnetic boots was awkward, and Fuller hadn’t done it in over five years, but his balance came back immediately and he was thankful for small favors—knowing that they might soon be in short supply.

  He reached the air-lock door and took out the charge he wore around his waist. He put the charge over the door’s locking mechanism. Then he took a quick look through the heavy door’s small window. He could see the air-lock chamber itself and the inner door behind it, but no Klingons.