Demands of Honor

by Kevin Ryan

  “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” she said, obviously reading something on his face. “But it did help me figure out who I was and what I was willing to sacrifice. I believe that Jon Anderson meant something and that our baby means something. I just wanted to thank you.”

  “Good luck to you, Lieutenant,” Kirk said as he entered the turbolift.

  Fuller was immediately alert as he materialized in the center of the village. He saw immediately that no one was in view. The silence also told him that no one was around—or that whoever was there was hiding.

  Drawing his phaser, Fuller scanned the site as the second team materialized nearby. He recognized the ground. The captain had briefed him, as had Lieutenant Parrish. And the computer had extensive images from the report Commander Giotto had filed—the report that proved conclusively that the Klingons were behind the Orion mine.

  He had also read the reports of how small teams armed only with hand phasers and with the help of some locals had fought off the Orion flying weapons platforms. Later, there had also been heavy ground fighting with both phasers and blades in an intense battle in and around the mine itself.

  Brave people had died here, both Federation and native, though surprisingly few considering what they had accomplished. Nevertheless, the Klingon Empire seemed to have moved in and Starfleet was no longer welcome. Well, this mission would allow Fuller and his people to have something to say about that.

  The mission.

  His mission.

  They were two different things, not necessarily contradictory, but not necessarily complementary either. He had failed to finish a job with the Klingons twenty-five years before, and too many had died because of it. Sam had died because of it.

  And these are the Klingons who killed Sam. It was the D’k Tahg that attacked Starbase 42, a voice in his head supplied. That voice had been fairly quiet lately. It had even been still during the rescue mission, which was the first time since Sam’s death that he had been face-to-face with Klingons.

  He had felt a black rage when he had seen them, but they were civilians and his training had held. The old habits were hard to break. He had let the Klingons live, but until the moment he had done it, he had not known if he could. However, the time would soon come when he would have to break those habits and forget that training.

  Revenge was part of it, certainly. But the much more important part was that he knew things about the enemy that Starfleet and the Federation were too blinded by their own principles to see. The Klingons gave no quarter because it was in their nature. And unless they met a force of equal power and resolve, the cancer they represented would take over the galaxy one world at a time, smashing the Federation and destroying everything that good people had built—that too many had given their lives to protect.

  Fuller had failed at the Battle of Donatu V because of his weakness and lack of resolve. He would not fail again. It would likely cost him his life, but pieces of him had been dying for years, and the last part worth anything had died when he’d received a message of condolence from his son’s captain.

  It amazed him that those around him couldn’t see what was missing in him, but their blindness allowed him to pursue the last course left to him, his final purpose. A mission. The only one that mattered. The only one of his career that would make a difference.

  “Sir, I show multiple targets converging on this location,” Parmet said, his tricorder out and scanning.

  “Everyone move! Find cover!” Fuller said, but before they could take even three steps, Fuller saw four small platforms hurtling toward them. “Phasers ready.” He aimed with his own even though the weapons were out of range. A quick mental calculation told him that they had zero chance of dispersing in time.

  “Form a circle,” he said, knowing that their chances in that formation were only slightly better. Each of the two squads had two phaser rifles. They were the only weapons that could penetrate the Orion weapons’ shields without a constant bombardment, but even they would take a little time.

  More time than he guessed they were going to have.

  “Hold fire until my mark,” Fuller said. There was a chance the Klingons on the platforms weren’t hostile. That was their only chance of walking away from this encounter. The pilots of each platform were wearing flight suits, which made it impossible to determine if they were natives or Klingon warriors, but the slight unsteadiness of the flying suggested to Fuller that they were natives without much flight experience.

  That might help, he realized. The weapons were getting closer. “Ready rifles,” Fuller said. He could see McCalmon and Quatrocchi raise their weapons and take aim. The phaser rifles had almost the same range as the Orion weapons so that would be another point in their favor.

  The first blast came from the platform farthest out, striking the ground five meters ahead of them. It threw up a fair amount of dirt and left an immediate crater. “Fire all weapons,” Fuller shouted.

  Fuller aimed and fired his phaser as the thirteen people around him did the same. Some of the phasers hit their mark, making the platforms glow as their shields dissipated the energy.

  More fire came in now and Fuller realized that the platforms were now within range, but the deadly bolts still missed. The attackers were simply bad shots. Still, it would only take two or three direct hits on the group to kill them all.

  Fuller realized that their chances had gone from about zero to 10 or 15 percent. He cursed himself for letting his team get surrounded in an area with no cover to protect them from the weapons they now faced.

  Both his personal mission and the mission for the ship were about to end, and he would have accomplished nothing. “First time we get hit, survivors disperse immediately!” he shouted.

  And then the game changed. Fuller saw a new weapons platform streaking across the sky, heading for the others. This one was piloted by a man in native clothing, not a flight suit. The new platform’s weapons came alive and, at a considerable distance, made a series of direct hits on one of the platforms firing on Fuller’s team. The Orion vehicle exploded in a brilliant display.

  Immediately, Fuller’s attention was caught by another new platform coming in at high speed, weapons blazing. This one was also piloted by a native without a flight suit, this time a woman. It scored another series of hits and the other vehicle firing on Fuller’s team exploded.

  The final two attackers came about and tried to engage the new craft, but their piloting was clumsy. The people in suits got off a few shots, but none even came close to hitting the natives. More important, they turned to show their backs to the security team.

  No one on the ground needed to be told what to do. They all took aim at the platforms’ exhaust areas, the most vulnerable sections of their shields. With the combination of phaser II and phaser rifle fire, the barrage took only a few seconds to overwhelm the shields and turn the weapons platforms into balls of flame.

  “Hold fire,” Fuller said, and the phasers went quiet.

  In a quick series of maneuvers, the new pilots turned and approached them. “Phasers down,” Fuller said, lowering his own weapon.

  Fuller had studied the reports and expected to see Gorath on one of the platforms, but this Klingon was too young—a teenager—and the young woman on the other platform was no older.

  “Do you speak English?” Fuller said when they were hovering nearby.

  “I do. Are you Starfleet?” the young man said.

  “Yes, I am looking for Gorath.”

  “You are not Captain Kirk?”

  “No, but he sent me to speak with Gorath.”

  “Gorath is dead. I am his son. Come with us. This place will not be safe for long.” The native, who looked like a Klingon, turned his platform and pointed it away from the village.

  “Let’s move,” Fuller said.

  Chapter Nineteen

  U.S.S. ENTERPRISE

  SYSTEM 7348

  “CAPTAIN KOLOTH,” Kirk said. “My landing party has come under
fire.”

  “I am sorry to hear that, Captain,” Koloth said. “I hope they died well.”

  “Actually, they are all well, though there were some losses on the other side. The question is, did your vessel have anything to do with the incident?”

  “Captain Kirk, if I strike you or your ship a blow, you will not have to wonder if it comes from my hand.”

  “Be that as it may, someone using heavy weapons attacked my landing party.”

  “Captain, I would welcome the opportunity to test my ship and crew against yours. And we both know that that time may come soon. However, for the moment, I am here only to serve the diplomatic team.”

  “Then you won’t mind if I talk to them?”

  “Not at all, I will have my communications officer transmit to you the frequency for Duras now.”

  Then Koloth’s face disappeared from the main viewscreen, replaced by space and the planet below.

  “Receiving transmission now.” After a moment, Uhura added, “I have the communicator frequency.”

  “Jim,” Doctor McCoy said. “There may be trouble in paradise. Sounds like Koloth is having trouble with his diplomat.”

  “I think you may be right, Bones,” Kirk said.

  “Captain, Starfleet records indicate that there is a Duras on the Klingon High Council,” Spock said.

  “A councillor sent to begin talks with an undeveloped planet? To begin a process that might take years?” Kirk said.

  “The logic is not immediately apparent,” Spock said.

  “No, it isn’t.” It truly didn’t make any sense to Kirk. Neither did Koloth’s insistence that he knew nothing about the attack on the landing party—which, to his surprise, Kirk found that he believed. “There’s only one way to find out what’s going on here. Let’s ask the councillor. Uhura, open a channel.”

  “I have a signal,” Uhura said.

  “Who is this? What do you want?” a translated Klingon voice said.

  “This is Captain James T. Kirk of the Federation starship Enterprise.”

  “Captain …,” the councillor said, and seemed to be at a loss for words.

  “I thought it was time you and I talked. I propose that we meet face-to-face.”

  “Impossible, I am deep into talks with the natives here. Talks that the Enterprise is here to monitor, not interfere with.”

  “And I was prepared to do just that, until my landing party was attacked.”

  “You were warned by the local authorities not to beam down.”

  “I’m afraid that the Federation does not recognize Gurn as the leader of this world.”

  “The Klingon Empire does, and Gurn has our support.”

  “Councillor, did your team have anything to do with the attack on my people?” Kirk said, putting steel into his voice. There was silence on the other end for a moment. “Do I need to repeat the question, Councillor?”

  “No, we had nothing to do with the attack, but I cannot protect your people if you will not respect the will of the native population here.”

  “I will deal with the natives in my own way. But you need to understand that if I see any sign that you are assisting in another attack, or using the ship to scan for so much as a Starfleet communicator on the surface, I will consider that a hostile act and will react accordingly. Do we understand each other?”

  “Captain, I am here in a diplomatic capacity. I seek only to have productive talks with the local, Klingon population.”

  “Then you and I will not have a problem. Kirk out.”

  About twenty minutes after their rescue from the native Klingons, Fuller and his team had followed the flying platforms to a rocky hill. After a few minutes of climbing, they found themselves on a small plateau facing about 150 more of the indigenous people—men, women, and children.

  Klingons, Fuller thought in wonder. No, not Klingons, not like the ones who killed Sam. According to Captain Kirk and the other reports from the previous incident on this planet, the natives were normally peaceful, honorable people. And their entire world had nearly been another victim of the Klingon Empire.

  Yet they had proven to be warriors at heart. And from what he had seen, the other tribes were more like the Klingons he knew. The young native landed his platform and stepped to the ground.

  “Who is in charge here?” Fuller said. All eyes turned to the young man who had just stepped off his vehicle.

  “Adon, son of Gorath, is our clan leader,” an older adult said, pointing to the young man.

  “What has happened here?” Fuller said.

  “Gurn, one of the other clan leaders, is working with a Klingon leader named Duras, who promised him power, weapons, and other machines in return for the dilithium crystals. Gurn murdered my father for standing against him and has turned the clans against us. They now control the green-skins’ mine. They also have most of the weapons, and now the help of Duras and his people.”

  That sounded like the Klingons Fuller knew—betraying their own people for equipment to make war on and kill others. Gurn was getting into bed with the devil, a devil who had tried to destroy every one of his people for some rocks. Clearly, Duras and Gurn—and the people that followed them—deserved one another. But what of Adon and these people?

  “We mean to put a stop to this alliance. Captain Kirk aided my father before. Would he help us now?” Adon asked.

  “Does Duras have the crystals he came for?” Fuller asked.

  Adon smiled. “No, we removed them from the mine. They are safe.”

  That changed things. If Duras and the Klingons already had the crystals, the Enterprise would have no choice but to stop the ship from leaving the system, and the Enterprise would deal out Fuller’s revenge for him. But since the Klingons didn’t yet have what they came for, things were different. With the crystals out of the equation, Fuller would have been content to let the Klingons kill each other, but that decision was not his to make—at least not yet.

  “I have to talk to my captain,” Fuller said.

  “You cannot find fourteen Starfleet officers?” Duras shouted.

  “No, Councillor,” the technician replied.

  “They do carry communicators, don’t they?”

  “Yes, but our passive scanning capability is limited, and there is some interference from the local hills. This installation was built with mining in mind only,” the Klingon replied.

  “Then scan from space! What of the D’k Tahg?” Duras demanded. If Koloth scanned for the Starfleet Earthers, Kirk might react violently, and then the D’k Tahg would fire the first shots of this war even earlier than Duras had expected.

  “The ship does not respond to my signal,” the technician replied.

  “Use satellites, then!”

  “Councillor, there are none … this installation was designed to operate in secret.”

  Duras knew that. He had issued the orders that had funded and built it—through Orion subsidiaries—himself. He felt things slipping away from him. He should have had the crystals by now. Every moment he stayed on this world increased the risk to his mission.

  Gurn stepped forward. “My people will find Gorath’s people. We will destroy them and any Earther who stands with them.”

  “You incompetent fool!” Duras shouted at Gurn. “Your job, and your only job right now, is to stay out of our way. Do not test me further.”

  Gurn cringed and took a step away from Duras, who turned his attention back to the technician. “And the reactor?” Duras asked.

  “We will have it up to full power in one hour.”

  Finally, some good news. At least part of the plan was on schedule. Now it was time to put the rest of it into motion. He lifted his communicator and said, “Duras to Koloth.” And waited. And waited.

  “Duras to Koloth,” he repeated.

  There was a delay and Koloth’s voice came on the line. “What do you want?”

  “I need you to scan for the Starfleet people on the surface. I need their position immediately.�
�

  After a long delay, Koloth said, “Our scanners don’t pick up anything. Are you sure they are on the surface?”

  Duras felt his rage deepen. Koloth was lying to him, toying with him, thwarting him. He grunted once and broke the line. He noticed Koloth’s targ Karel looking at him with clear pleasure on his face. This was intolerable! He was a member of the High Council! On urgent business for the empire!

  Duras forced down his rage. They would all pay soon enough, Koloth, Karel, and any who would follow them. Then Starfleet, then … Well, before the day was out, Duras would win a number of great victories, and he needed the victories. The failure of the mine had cost him on the council, as had the failure of the infiltrator program. He had placed dozens of agents, betleH ’etlh, throughout Starfleet, but they had been found out too early to do any good. Another costly failure.

  But today his fortunes would change. Through force of will, he calmed himself and walked over to Gurn. “Fear not, victory will be ours by the end of the day.” Then he turned to his technician. “Come with me. I need to send a secure message.”

  “I am sorry to hear about your father,” Kirk said into the intercom.

  “His murderer will pay, Captain,” Adon said through the comm system.

  Kirk would have preferred to have this conversation face-to-face. But under the circumstances, Kirk could not leave the ship and Adon would not leave the planet.

  “My father was right, Captain. The arrival of the Orions and their machines has brought us nothing but grief. First, it nearly destroyed us, now it has set my people against one another for the first time in our history.”

  “We will help you however we can.”

  “Thank you, Kirk. You may help us immediately by seeing that Gurn has nothing of value to trade. Can you use your transporter to remove the crystals from the surface?”

  “Yes. And we can offer—”

  “I ask for nothing above what you have already offered. Remove the crystals and we shall see how strong the alliance between Gurn and Duras remains.”

  “If you can show Mister Fuller where they are, we can retrieve them.”