by Kevin Ryan
Something passed over the clan leader’s face, but his voice was firm. “I would kill my enemies, or those who ally with them.”
“As would any of our people worth their blood. But would you speak with me first to hear what I have to say?”
“With your weapons and the weapons of the Starfleet pointed at me?” Mureth said.
“You point weapons as well.”
“But you are the one who wishes to speak.”
Adon saw that he had few choices, and fewer that were any good. He decided quickly and hit the button to turn off the defensive shield. “I shall come to you with open hands.” He stepped off the small craft, looking at the surprise on Mureth’s face. “Would you speak with me with open hands as well?”
Adon took careful steps toward the clan leader. Watching Mureth’s eyes, Adon saw that he might just have made the last decision of his life. Then he could see that Mureth had made his own decision and lowered his weapon.
“Do not strike at him!” Mureth called out. Then the clan leader took a series of careful steps of his own toward Adon.
When they were face-to-face, Adon said, “You hunted with my father, faced him in the games. Would you kill his son now?”
“I would rather you go home.”
“If I did, all would end soon. The Klingons would see this world destroyed.”
“Gurn has told us that the humans would see it destroyed.” Mureth replied.
“You believe a clansman who would lead you into battle from the rear? You followed Gorath into battle against the green-skins. Where was Gorath then?”
“He was first into battle,” Mureth said, the pain clear on his face now. “But there were things he could not know. Your father was a great warrior, but we need new kinds of strength now. Gurn has brought us a promise of protection, of machines from the Klingons so we may never again feel the threat of the green-skins and those like them. Gorath was a great man, but he was a fool to think we could keep the stars above us away forever.”
“Even if that were so, do you think he was a liar?” Adon said.
“No,” Mureth replied immediately.
“Would you call his son liar?”
“No.”
“Gurn killed my father, Mureth.”
“You know this?”
“I saw it in his eyes. And if you would doubt me, let me ask you, have you seen the wound on Gurn’s face? Do you think it was made by an animal, or a blade?” Adon saw more doubt in Mureth’s eyes. “My father called you friend. Would he ever have set our people against each other as Gurn has done?”
“These are different times,” Mureth said, uncertainty now clear in his voice.
“Yes, but the call of our shared blood is the same. Gurn asks you to believe the Klingons’ words, but where were the Klingons when the green-skins tried to tear our world to stone and sand? The humans fought with us, fought with you and my father. I am satisfied they speak the truth. And I have spoken many times to the green-skins’ computers, which tell of their Klingon masters. Mureth, understand that I will fight you if I must, because the Klingons are not here for their crystals, but to finish the work of destroying our world. Would you stand with them in this fight, or with us?”
After long consideration, Mureth said, “These are times which test us in new ways. I do not have the wisdom to see the truth here, but I will not strike the son of Gorath today. Let me speak to my people.”
Fuller watched the scene in front of him in wonder. The two native Klingons were talking—not trying to kill one another. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it was clear that something was passing between them. As they spoke, the young woman in the other platform buzzed back and forth, nervously keeping watch on Adon.
The one called Mureth went to talk to his people, and Adon slowly walked back to his platform and took to the air. A moment later, he was in front of Fuller’s team. The young woman on the other platform and a small group of others approached him.
“They will not fight us,” Adon called out to the officers and natives around them. “Some of Mureth’s people will lay down their arms and go home. Some will join our fight. Welcome them.”
Fuller was stunned. This young man had earned his respect before, but this … this was impossible. He had won a victory without firing a shot. In fact, this was better than a victory. Adon had just increased their numbers.
A group of the fighters who had been firing at them a few moments ago were now walking off together, leaving the area. Another group, which had to be at least half the total, were headed toward the tree line. They were greeted by the natives there and quickly took places at their sides. All of the assembled natives were now looking up at Adon as if he were not a young boy just out of adolescence but a person they would die for.
The clan leader who had met with Adon took position nearby. A device on his side beeped once—a Klingon communicator. The man answered it and handed the device to Adon, who barked at it in Klingon. That done, he turned to Fuller and said, “Gurn is disappointed at this turn of events.” From the sound of the screaming on the other end of the communicator, disappointed was an understatement.
Fuller said to his squad, “Our odds have just improved, but we are a long way from done. It looks like we have to do this the hard way. When we move out, we concentrate fire on the doors. When we get inside, we do it one level at a time.”
There were nods all around, but before he could tell them to move out, he saw movement on the far side of the mine complex. A quick scan told him there was also movement on the other side.
He saw flying platforms, quite a few of them, and realized that Duras may have been a coward, but he was far from a fool. He would not engage his warriors in a ground fight where they would be more or less evenly matched against other fighters. The platforms came, and kept coming.
The hard way, he thought. Then he realized that that didn’t begin to cover it.
“Disperse and take cover, don’t give them big targets,” Fuller said. He realized that the approaching craft didn’t look like vehicles in attack formations, they looked like a swarm.
Chapter Twenty-five
U.S.S. ENTERPRISE
SYSTEM 7348
“ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND KILOMETERS above the orbital plane,” Spock announced. A moment later he added, “Two more disruptor blasts on rear shields. Given the extreme range, they had negligible effect.”
Kirk knew he could keep this fight going indefinitely. However, the people on the planet didn’t have much time. Unless Kirk ended this quickly, those people would die no matter what the outcome of this battle between the two ships.
“Prepare to bring us about to face them on my mark … now.” Kirk scanned the viewscreen for the Klingon vessel but it was still too far in front of them. “Full speed toward the Klingons. Take us close, Mister Sulu, and ready photon torpedoes.” A moment later, he saw a blip on the screen as the Klingons approached. “Fire as soon as they’re in range.”
Kirk could see the forward view of the Klingon battle cruiser, and then Sulu said, “Torpedoes away.”
Two torpedoes streaked toward the Klingon ship as it barreled toward the Enterprise. “Evasive action,” Kirk said, and he immediately felt the pull to port as the inertial dampeners struggled to compensate for the high-speed maneuvers.
“Klingons firing disruptors,” Spock said. “Clean miss, but I am showing that both our torpedoes have made direct hits on the Klingon vessel. Klingon forward shields down at least thirty percent.”
That was something. The Klingon commander may have been inexperienced, but Kirk did not want to risk the same maneuver again. The Klingons would be ready a second time.
“Elliptical course, Mister Sulu. Toward the orbital plane,” Kirk said.
As Sulu executed the maneuver, Spock announced, “Klingons pursuing at high speed. Collision course.”
“Bring us about to face them. Ready photon torpedoes.” The captain watched the viewscreen carefully. As soon as the
Klingon ship appeared, he said, “Fire torpedoes.” As soon as the torpedoes were away, he said, “Give us some room and ready phasers.”
“Klingons altering trajectory. Torpedo hits on their shields. Klingons maintaining collision course,” Spock said.
Kirk doubted the Klingons would actually risk a collision, but getting close would allow them to do a lot of damage in a short time. Yet Kirk knew he could not afford to draw this engagement out.
“Fire phasers as soon as they’re in range. Maintain fire as long as you can and ready evasive maneuvers on my mark,” Kirk said.
The captain could feel the Klingon ship barreling toward them, and the few seconds seemed to stretch out. Finally Spock announced, “Klingons in range.”
“Fire phasers!” Kirk said.
Instantly, twin blue beams lanced out toward the Klingon vessel, colliding brilliantly with the Klingon’s shields. Almost immediately, green disruptor bolts lashed out from the Klingon warship, and Kirk felt the deck beneath him shudder as the deadly disruptor energy hit the Enterprise.
“Fire photon torpedoes,” Kirk said.
The torpedoes were away and Kirk watched the Klingon ship come closer, its shields flaring brilliantly as the torpedoes struck a moment later. Then the viewscreen turned white as the Enterprise’s own shields struggled to repel the Klingon weapons fire.
“Evasive action now,” Kirk called out. He felt the ship shudder once, either from the maneuver or the disruptor fire.
“Incoming torpedo—” Spock said, and before the words were fully out, Kirk felt the Enterprise lurch violently and, for a moment, the bridge went dark. The lights snapped back on and Kirk could smell overloaded circuitry.
The ship had been hurt, and Kirk could hear the damage reports starting to come into Uhura’s station, but Kirk had to see how much danger remained. “The Klingons?” he asked.
“Heavy damage. I’m showing no power to impulse or warp drives. And no power to weapons. They are decelerating on thrusters only,” Spock said.
That was it. The Klingons were out of the fight.
“Damage report?” Kirk asked.
“Forward shield inoperative, port shields at fifteen percent. Phaser control room reporting that one phaser bank is out. I’m showing a small hull breach with decompression in port cargo hold. All other systems functioning,” Spock said.
It was over. They had won, but Kirk took no satisfaction in the victory. The Enterprise had undergone extensive refits and modifications recently to make weapons and shields more effective against Klingon warships. And Kirk had been facing an inexperienced commander. Nevertheless, the Klingons had hurt them. What would have happened if it had been Koloth at the helm of the D’k Tahg?
What if the same scenario played out across the Federation? Evenly matched vessels pummeling each other. In those circumstances, even the cost of victory would be high. And then there would be defeats. Inevitably, there would be setbacks and battles lost.
How many lives?
“I’m getting casualty reports now,” Uhura said. “Twenty-two injuries. All minor.”
Kirk felt McCoy’s hand on his shoulder for a moment, and then the doctor was gone, headed for sickbay.
Hitting a button on his command chair, Kirk said, “Mister Scott, repair time?”
“You’ll have shields back at a hundred percent within the hour. Phasers in less. I’ll have to take a look at the hull damage to make an estimate there.”
“Keep me posted. Kirk out. Mister Spock, are the Klingons disabled?”
“Yes, Captain. I am also showing multiple hull breaches and heavy casualties. They will not be a threat for several hours at least.”
Kirk did not want to underestimate the Klingons. They were notoriously good at field repairs—a necessary skill considering how often they took their ships into battle—but a few hours were all he needed.
“Mister Sulu, get us back to the planet, best speed,” Kirk said.
Fuller counted twenty Klingon weapons platforms, ten coming from each side of the mine. Adon and his people had only two, and even if they were superior pilots, they would not stand for long against ten to one odds.
“Fire at will!” Fuller shouted to his people. His squad took aim on the platforms from the hauler as Greenberger’s squad dispersed on the ground and did the same. “Keep us moving and keep us in the air as long as you can,” Fuller said to Quatrocchi.
“Aye, sir,” the ensign said. The hauler was built to go up and down carrying heavy loads so it was sluggish, but they needed to keep fire off the people on the ground for as long as possible.
Adon and Bethe were doing the same, darting in and out of the mass of Klingon craft. The two native pilots were good, and if they were lucky, that might buy them a few extra minutes, but in the end Fuller could see that the outcome of this engagement would be inevitable.
Fuller was aware of the Klingon attack craft strafing the ground, hitting at least a few of the natives there. Each blow created a small crater. No, they wouldn’t last long. Fuller also noted that these platforms were firing green disruptor bolts, not the red Orion particle beams. Unfortunately, this meant they were even more deadly.
“Chief, look,” Parmet called out. Five of the Klingon craft were headed for the platform at the side.
“Turn us to face them,” Fuller said to Quatrocchi. It would give the vehicles a smaller target. Fuller took aim and fired his phaser rifle as the squad did the same. Green disruptor bolts tore at the air around them as the craft turned slowly.
They took a hit on the right side and the hauler shuddered violently. Though the chest-high rim of the craft provided them with limited cover, the vehicle had no shields. One or two more direct hits and they would be grounded, or in pieces.
The Klingon platforms were coming in a classic flying V formation. Fuller took aim at the craft in the center and immediately the others did the same. In just a few seconds, the platform exploded brilliantly and the other four broke off the assault.
“Target the one on the far right,” Fuller said, firing his own rifle. A few moments later, that platform exploded. “Quatrocchi, get us around to the back of the mine. We won’t last long out here, so we’re going to make a direct assault on the mine from the main shaft. Watch out for weapons platforms, everyone.”
Scanning the ground, Fuller saw that this battle was going badly. He counted at least a dozen dead on the ground and saw that at least three of them were wearing Starfleet uniforms.
“Damn,” he said as the ore hauler moved with agonizing slowness.
“Chief,” Jawer called out, pointing behind them.
A single Klingon craft was approaching. Fuller fired without hesitating and saw at least three beams strike the platform, which fired a single bolt and veered off. The disruptor energy hit them directly in the back, and Fuller felt the craft lurch violently. He was thrown toward the rear and hit the rim of the hauler hard with his chest.
“Chief,” he heard Quatrocchi say. And then he realized they were falling. Turning, he saw that Quatrocchi was fighting with the controls. They were going down, and all Fuller could do was hold on. He thought about their altitude at the time they were hit and did a quick mental calculation about their chances of survival—not good.
Before that thought was fully formed, however, he felt the craft slow—not much but distinctly. Then there was a loud crash as he was slammed to the deck. Even as he realized that he was alive, he was climbing to his feet. Scanning the squad, he saw that they were all moving. Quatrocchi got up first and said, “Sorry, sir. I was only able to get the power back up for a second.”
“If we’re alive, it counts as a good landing,” Fuller said, scanning the group. There were cuts and bruises, but everyone was in one piece, though Parmet was still on the ground.
“Son?” Fuller asked. He watched Parmet get up and saw that the young man was shaken and had a cut near his hairline.
Parmet shook it off and looked at Fuller. “Ready to go, sir.”
>
Fuller saw that a Klingon craft was bearing down on them. “Get out of here, now!” he said, jumping over the side. “Get away from the hauler!” He broke into a run. Only seconds later, he heard a loud explosion and felt the warm blast hit his back. He kept to his feet and waited for the shock wave to pass before he turned around.
Spinning about, he saw that everyone was accounted for as a mushroom cloud rose over the crater where the ore hauler had been just a few moments before. “Disperse and pick your targets,” Fuller shouted.
The squad spread out, though Fuller noticed that Parmet had stayed close to him. He could use that, he realized, and said, “Parmet, cover me!” Pulling out his communicator, he said, “Fuller to Adon.” When the young native answered, he said, “We can’t beat them out here with that many vehicles. Can you get inside from the back with your craft and open the door?”
“Yes,” Adon said.
Fuller signed off and started shooting with his phaser rifle. He took cover behind a tree, but that offered him nothing but concealment. He had seen the Klingon disruptors tear through the largest trees in the area.
Watching the sky, he saw that at least a few of the Klingon craft were missing. Then he saw the two platforms carrying the natives streak through the battle and head for the rear of the mine. Almost immediately, one of the Klingon craft started trailing them. There was a flash of disruptor fire and one of the vehicles started going down. It could have been Adon, or the young woman—Fuller couldn’t tell. A moment later, Fuller saw the remaining native pilot double back for the downed craft, and then Fuller lost sight of them both.
A blast tore a crater a few meters behind Fuller and he spun and fired. The air was still full with attacking Klingons, and they no longer had the two defending platforms in the air. Even if Adon made it, Fuller knew that they would never hold out long enough for the young native to get through the mine and open the door.
Fuller weighed the odds. They were poor and getting worse.
Adon saw the flash as Bethe got hit. Her craft didn’t explode immediately, but it did drop toward the surface. Immediately, he swung his platform around and scanned for her. He saw her craft on the ground, surprisingly intact, but Bethe was gone….