STAR TREK: TOS #86 - My Brother's Keeper, Book Two - Constitution

by Michael Jan Friedman

  Of course, if he slipped more than an inch or so in either direction, he would run the risk of ending up like Jankowski. It was a chilling thought—but not so chilling that it deterred him.

  To increase his chances of success, Lynch stripped off his uniform shirt, exposing his bare skin. After all, he didn’t want to lose his life because of a stray piece of sleeve. Then he took a breath, dropped to the floor, and reached tentatively in the direction of the transmitter.

  It couldn’t have been more than two feet away, though it seemed like twice that. With the pulses sizzling past his eyes, ever more blinding as he edged nearer to them, the science officer extended his hand along the deck as far as it would go.

  Fortunately, it was just far enough. The pulses shot by so close to Lynch that he could feel their [172] destructive heat on his skin. Still, he was able to wrap his fingers around one tripod leg of the transmitter and pull the device back a few inches.

  That was all the leeway he needed. First, he stood the thing up again. Then he reprogrammed it to speak with Jankowski’s tricorder, which was lying on the deck beside her.

  A moment later, the science officer saw a light go on, indicating that the transmitter was doing its job again. He breathed a sigh of relief. Then slowly, carefully, Lynch pulled his arm back along the deck and retreated from the pulse field.

  You did it, he told himself, leaning against the bulkhead behind him. You got it going.

  Unless there was some other obstacle he wasn’t aware of, the Constitution would be receiving the station’s data again immediately. And with it, Lynch’s fellow officers would figure out a way to pull the Sordinians’ bacon out of the proverbial fire.

  Lynch looked at Jankowski, whose skin was taking on a waxy look in death. If only you were still alive to see it, he thought sadly. If only you knew you hadn’t died for nothing.

  Chapter Eleven

  KIRK DRUMMED on the armrest of the captain’s chair with his fingertips, trying to be patient.

  He would much rather have beamed over to the alien station with Lynch and Jankowski. However, the landing party couldn’t have been a large one, and it was clear they were more qualified than he was to handle any technical problems that cropped up.

  “Mr. Kirk,” said Borrik.

  The second officer turned in his seat and saw the Dedderac’s worried expression. “What is it?” he asked.

  “The dataflow has stopped,” Borrik reported.

  “Stopped?” Kirk echoed. He cursed softly. “Contact the landing party, Lieutenant. Ask them what’s going on.”

  A moment passed as the communications officer [174] worked. Then another moment, and another, and Borrik’s expression kept souring.

  The second officer got up and made his way to the Dedderac’s console. “Lieutenant?” he prodded.

  “I cannot get through to them,” Borrik rasped. “Something is getting in the way of my signal.”

  His control panel beeped as if with annoyance.

  Kirk turned to the viewscreen, where the alien station could be seen in the distance. It didn’t look operational, but ...

  “Have its deflectors gone back up?” he wondered out loud.

  “No, sir,” Gary responded smartly, his gaze moving from monitor to monitor. “Deflectors are still down.”

  “Whatever has happened,” the Dedderac pointed out, “the effect is not comprehensive.” He continued to scan the data coming in through the sensor net. “Part of the satellite is still open to communications—but it’s not the part Lynch and Jankowski beamed onto.”

  The second officer felt a trickle of ice-water in the small of his back. Clearly, something had gone wrong on the satellite. He needed to find out what it was.

  “Wait,” said Borrik. He turned to Kirk, his features pinched with puzzlement. “We’re receiving data again.”

  The second officer glanced at the communications console. Sure enough, it was flashing one ruby-red graphic after another.

  “And voice communications?” he asked hopefully.

  [175] The Dedderac shook his head. “No, sir. Those are still blocked.”

  Kirk grunted. Had something happened to the landing party’s communicators ... or to the landing party itself? He turned to Gary. “Scan for life signs, Mr. Mitchell.”

  “Aye, sir,” said his friend. After a second or two, he looked up from his controls with an expression of dismay on his face. “I seem to be reading only one set of signs.”

  No, the second officer thought. It can’t be.

  Not another one.

  For a fraction of a second, he felt as if he were on the bridge of the Republic again, surrounded by death in every direction. Then, mercifully, the feeling passed.

  “Which one is it?” Kirk asked numbly. “Lynch or Jankowski?”

  Gary worked some more, then gave up. “I can’t tell, sir. There’s something in the way of my scan—probably the same thing that’s blocking Mr. Borrik’s comm signal.”

  The second officer gritted his teeth. There was no fooling himself—he had a situation on his hands. One of his officers was dead and the other one ... who knew what kind of condition he or she might be in?

  “Sir,” said Medina, his voice sharp with urgency, “we seem to have another problem. An unidentified vessel is approaching us at full impulse. Heading two four oh mark six.”

  [176] Kirk swallowed. “On screen.”

  The alien station vanished from the viewscreen. In its place, the second officer saw a daunting sight—a dark, powerful-looking ship with four large, egg-shaped nacelles. Unless Medina had seriously screwed up the magnification factor, the thing was ten times the size of the Constitution.

  It also bore a marked resemblance to the orbital stations. As if to underline the fact, the helmsman spoke up again.

  “Sensors show she draws on the same technologies as the satellites.” Medina glanced over his shoulder at Kirk. “It appears they were manufactured by the same people, sir.”

  The second officer looked at the screen again. The alien vessel was bristling with arcane-looking armaments from stem to stern. Clearly, the Constitution was no match for her when it came to firepower.

  “The mother ship,” Gaynor spat.

  “Jankowski was right,” Borrik added.

  The orbital stations had just been a warm-up, Kirk realized, a taste of things to come. This was the featured act, he thought as he returned to his center seat.

  “Estimated time of arrival?” he asked, despite the uncomfortable dryness in his mouth.

  “Four minutes and twenty seconds,” came Medina’s reply.

  Gaynor turned to him. “We’ve got to get out of here, sir.”

  Instinctively, Kirk shook his head. “Not without our survivor, Lieutenant, whoever it is.”

  [177] The security chiefs mouth became a thin, hard line. “Lynch and Jankowski would understand the need for us to withdraw, sir.”

  The second officer regarded him, locking eyes and wills with the man. “We’re not leaving,” he insisted.

  Gaynor’s nostrils flared. “If we don’t leave, sir, everything they’ve done could be for nothing. At least take a moment to go over the data. Maybe it’ll show us something useful.”

  “By then,” Kirk pointed out, “Lynch and Jankowski will both be dead. That’s not acceptable.”

  The security chief turned red in the face. “Not acceptable ... ?” he sputtered. “What about the destruction of the ship and the rest of the crew? Is that acceptable, Lieutenant?”

  The second officer didn’t so much as flinch. “You’re out of line,” he told Gaynor with a confidence he didn’t feel. “Way out of line.”

  The older man continued to glare at him. But as angry as he was, Gaynor stifled any further acts of rebellion. Swearing beneath his breath, he turned back to his security console.

  That battle fought, Kirk reflected on the matter at hand. He had less than four minutes until the alien mother ship arrived—less than four minutes to figure out a plan
of action and pursue it.

  He sensed that everyone on the bridge was staring at him. Gary. Medina. Borrik. And Gaynor—him, most of all. As the ship’s engines pulsed like a secret heart, they waited to see what their acting commander would do.

  He knew what he wouldn’t do. He wouldn’t leave [178] his surviving comrade behind to die or be captured by the aliens.

  “My right,” the second officer said, his mind racing ahead of him, “here’s what we’re going to do.” He turned to the security chief. “We’re going to send two of your officers over to the satellite, Mr. Gaynor. They’ll reconnoiter, see if they can help either Lynch or Jankowski. If they can, fine. If they can’t, we’ll beam them back.”

  Even as he described his plan, he knew how difficult it would be for him to beam those officers back empty-handed. It went hard against his grain to abandon even one of his people—and not solely because of the horrors he had seen on the Farragut.

  It was simple, really. He just couldn’t help imagining himself as the one being abandoned.

  Gaynor considered Kirk’s order, giving no indication of whether he would carry it out or not. Then the security chief tapped the intercom stud on his black control console.

  “This is Gaynor,” he said, “calling officers Zuleta and Park. Meet me in the transporter room.” He glanced at Kirk. “And bring your phasers, boys. I’ve got a mission for you.”

  Kirk nodded approvingly. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

  “Don’t mention it, sir,” the chief replied with a hint of irony in his voice. “I’m just following orders, you know?” Then he left the bridge by way of the turbolift.

  The second officer watched as the doors hissed shut behind Gaynor. Then he turned to the forward [179] viewscreen again, where the alien ship was looming larger and larger by the second, and prayed fervently that he had made the right decision after all.

  It seemed to Lynch he had barely left the alien data center behind when he heard the faint, metallic echo of footfalls.

  Damn, he thought. There wasn’t supposed to be any life on this station. We were supposed to be alone when we beamed over. His hand moved in the direction of his phaser.

  Then it occurred to him that the footfalls might not have come from the enemy. After all, Kirk had lost voice communications with the landing party when the aliens’ backup system kicked in. He might very well have beamed over a rescue squad.

  Yes, the science officer told himself, reaching for his tricorder instead of his weapon. A rescue squad. That’s it.

  A moment later, his tricorder confirmed it. Two life-forms, both human. They were farther away than Lynch had estimated, but he would see them coming from the other direction in just a few seconds.

  Then they could all go back to the Constitution, their mission accomplished. And sometime later, when the threat of the satellites had been disabled, they would return for Jankowski’s body.

  The science officer fixed a picture of the woman in his mind, recalling her warmth and her ready smile. Don’t worry, he told Jankowski. I may be leaving without you, but I won’t let you stay here for long. And neither will your friend Hirota.

  [180] He sighed. The first officer would be anguished when he heard about Jankowski. He wouldn’t show it—Lynch was certain of that. But in private, the man would bawl his eyes out.

  Who wouldn’t? the science officer thought. It was harder than hell to lose a woman with whom you had fallen in love. Unfortunately, Lynch knew that from his own experience.

  He consulted his tricorder again. The rescue team was definitely getting closer. What’s more, they had probably registered the science officer’s approach the same way he had registered theirs.

  It couldn’t hurt to call out to them. That way, there wouldn’t be any mistakes. “Hello,” he shouted, his voice echoing resoundingly from bulkhead to bulkhead. “It’s Lynch.”

  “Lynch,” came the reply, echoing just as resoundingly. “It’s Park and Zuleta. Are you all right?”

  The science officer scowled, reminded of his partner’s fate. “I am,” he called back. “Jankowski’s dead.”

  Just as he said that, he saw the two security officers come around a corner up ahead. They had both phasers and tricorders out, and there was a distinct look of urgency on their faces.

  “It’s all right,” Lynch assured them. “We’re alone here.”

  “We’ve got to hurry,” said Zuleta, looking past the science officer just in case. “Are you sure Jankowski’s dead?”

  “Positive,” Lynch replied, as he let Park grab his [181] arm and pull him along the corridor. “But why the hurry? What’s going on?”

  The security officers told him. The aliens’ mother ship had been detected and it was headed for the Constitution, but Kirk had insisted on getting his team off the satellite before he withdrew.

  Part of Lynch was grateful for the second officer’s loyalty and generosity. But the other part of him couldn’t help cursing the man because—in Lynch’s opinion, at least—he had made the wrong damned choice.

  “Mr. Kirk?” said Borrik.

  The second officer turned to him. “Zuleta and Park made it over?” he asked, hoping for confirmation.

  “They did indeed, sir,” said the communications officer.

  Kirk nodded and said, “Acknowledged, Mr. Borrik.” Then he returned his attention to the forward viewscreen and the alien juggernaut steadily bearing down on them.

  With the least bit of luck, the security officers they had sent over to the satellite would find Jankowski or Lynch—whichever one still lived—and bring him or her to an interference-free site before too much more time expired. Then they would all beam back to the Constitution, and the ship would make her retreat in one piece.

  The second officer heard the turbolift doors hiss open. Before they could close again, he saw Gaynor return to his post at the security console. The security [182] chief cast a glance in Kirk’s direction, but didn’t comment further on the younger man’s decision.

  After all, the dice had been cast. Now it was just a question of how they would come up—lucky seven or snake eyes.

  “They’re powering up their weapons,” Gary reported suddenly.

  Kirk clenched his jaw. Without any shields to speak of, the Constitution wouldn’t be able to withstand much of an attack—and the mother ship looked more dangerous than all the satellites combined.

  But the second officer wasn’t leaving. He had already made that decision. He was going to stick around as long as he could to give his landing party a fighting chance.

  Kirk was about to call for evasive maneuvers when the alien vessel released a quick burst of dark blue fury. Don’t tell me they’re firing on us already? he thought.

  The second officer saw the enemy ship release a second burst and a third in quick succession. But it didn’t make sense to him. At this range, he told himself, the Constitution’s weapons couldn’t have done any real damage to the alien. Was it possible the aggressor’s weapons were that much more powerful than their own?

  Then Kirk realized he was wrong about the mother ship’s target. The vessel wasn’t firing at the Constitution at all. It was firing at the damaged satellite, of all things.

  The first splash of purple fire seemed to envelop the alien artifact, to set it burning like a torch in the [183] darkness of space. Then the second ball of flame pierced the satellite to its heart like a fatal shaft. A moment later, the satellite exploded in an expanding frenzy of blue-white light, blotting out the stars for a moment and sending shards of dark debris spinning wildly in every direction.

  Even after the light receded and died, fragments of alien material and alien technology continued to whirl haphazardly through the void. Some of them seemed on the verge of smashing into the Constitution, though that was just a trick of magnification.

  But the rest of it was no trick. The second officer could see that with his own eyes. It was all too real.

  No, Kirk screamed in the recesses of his mind, reco
iling as if he had been lashed with a white hot whip. No ...

  “They blew up the satellite,” Medina said in a dazed way, giving voice to the others’ horror. “Maybe to ...” He shrugged. “... to keep us from getting our hands on it, maybe?”

  It was as good an explanation as any, the second officer thought. But he felt numb, sluggish, as if he were using someone else’s brain.

  Gary turned to him, his expression one of sadness and loss. “Your orders, sir?” he asked.

  My orders, thought Kirk. I have to give orders. Lynch and Jankowski are dead. Park and Zuleta are dead. Captain Garrovick is dead, too. But I’m alive and so are all these people around me, and they need me to get them out of this mess.

  He eyed the alien vessel, looming in the distance, looking for all the world as if it were eyeing him back. [184] As yet, the mother ship hadn’t come after the Constitution.

  “Withdraw,” he said. “Full impulse.”

  “Aye, sir,” Medina replied, bringing the vessel about.

  “Now you withdraw?” asked Gaynor.

  The second officer looked at him. The man had left his station and was standing at the bridge’s red-orange rail, glowering at him.

  “Now,” he said, “when it’s too late? When you’ve lost not only Lynch and Jankowski, but Zuleta and Park into the bargain?”

  “That’s enough,” Kirk told him.

  “No,” Gaynor went on, his hands gripping the rail so hard his knuckles turned white, “it’s not enough. It’s not nearly enough. If not for you, those people would still be alive, dammit! They’d still be alive!”

  The second officer felt his cheeks heat up. Under different circumstances, he would have thrown a man in the brig for comments like those. But he didn’t, and for a very good reason.

  He wasn’t certain that Gaynor wasn’t right.

  “I did what I thought best,” Kirk replied evenly. “And as long as I’m in command of this ship, I’ll continue to do what I think best.” He met the security’s chief hot, angry gaze. “Is that understood?”