Star Trek: Seekers: Second Nature

by David Mack

  Ortok read the statistics off a screen. “Approximate diameter: point nine three qelIqams. Composition: silicon, carbon, iron, nickel, fistrium, traces of kelbonite. Velocity, twenty-one point four qelIqams per second.”

  “Is that on any of our navigational charts?”

  “No, sir. But that’s not unusual. Most of the systems in this sector have barely been charted. Minor objects like this were deemed too small to merit tracking.”

  Kang swiveled his chair toward Mahzh. “Any chance that rock will hit the planet?”

  Mahzh switched his sensors to study the asteroid. “None, sir. Just a close shave.”

  That was good news, at least. A passing notion made Kang crack a mischievous smile. “Maybe you’d like to use it for target practice?”

  The weapons officer shook his head. “Not this close to the planet, sir. An hour ago, I would have. But any detonation while the asteroid is inside our orbital track would pose a high risk of bombarding the planet with debris. Given the asteroid’s mass, the damage would be substantial enough to threaten the success of our mission.”

  “Pity. Reset the viewer.” Kang reclined in his command chair as the screen reverted to the image of Arethusa. “Mahzh, tell Kyris when you’ve canceled that interference. We’ll give Tobar and his recon team one more chance to reply. After that, we’ll finish this ourselves.”

  • • •

  For the sake of morale, Terrell did his best to mask his mounting anxiety. He took a deep breath to steady his voice before he spoke. “Sorak? Any sign the Klingons are onto us?”

  The Vulcan was calm as he monitored his console. “Negative. They’ve adjusted their orbit to avoid colliding with the asteroid, but their shields and weapon systems remain inactive.”

  Terrell studied the tactical readout on the main viewscreen. “What about the bird-of-prey? Any risk they’ll see us as they round the planet?”

  There was a note of pride in Ensign Nizsk’s reply. “No, sir. I have adjusted the attitude of the asteroid along its longest axis to obstruct the bird-of-prey’s vantage at all times. Both it and the cruiser should have obstructed lines of sight once we are in position to transmit.”

  “Well done.” Terrell had never harbored any serious doubts about Nizsk’s competence as a helm officer; it was simply that he had found it hard to believe that the young Kaferian—or anyone else, for that matter—could ever live up to the tradition of daredevil excellence set by her predecessor, the late Andorian zhen Celerasayna zh’Firro. Nizsk had proved him wrong.

  The two ensigns on the bridge—Nizsk and Taryl—had teamed up to devise a truly cunning means of putting the Sagittarius in a position to contact its landing party while staying hidden from the two Klingon ships in orbit. Using only the maneuvering thrusters and one-tenth impulse power, Nizsk had forced upon the asteroid a series of precision trajectory and velocity adjustments designed by Taryl, while at the same time stabilizing its erratic three-axis spin into a single-axis slow roll. Most remarkable of all, she had done it with a minimal power expenditure, ensuring that they didn’t exceed the sensor-blocking properties of their natural camouflage.

  His only qualm had been Taryl’s insistence on setting the asteroid upon a potential collision course with the Klingon cruiser. That had felt to him like too brazen a tactic, but after a brief review of known Klingon starship protocols, Sorak had assured Terrell the maneuver was a logical one, in that it had the highest likelihood of forcing the Klingons to alter their orbital position, ensuring that the Sagittarius would have the best chance to send a subspace radio signal to the landing party without being detected or intercepted.

  Seconds passed like cold molasses through a jug with a narrow mouth, and Terrell’s patience ebbed. “How long until we’re ready to hail the landing party?”

  “Fifteen seconds,” Nizsk replied.

  Terrell knew the window for communications would be brief—no more than two minutes. He didn’t plan on wasting even a moment of that precious time. “Sorak, open a channel to the landing party in ten seconds. Hail them as soon as we’re in position.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “And everyone? Good work. My log will include commendations all around.” He saw a subtle smile of gratitude from Taryl, but Sorak, Kolinahr master that he was, evinced no reaction, and Terrell had no idea how to read the emotions of insectoid Kaferians like Nizsk.

  From the helm, Nizsk announced, “We’re directly above the largest island.”

  “Channel open,” Sorak said. “Hailing the landing party.” He waited for a response, his hand pressed gently to the transceiver tucked into his elegantly curved and pointed ear. Then he looked up at Terrell. “Captain, I have Commander Theriault.”

  “On speakers,” Terrell said. “Vanessa? Are you all right?”

  “Yes, sir. Scrapes and bruises, but we’re all accounted for.”

  Terrell breathed a short sigh of relief. “Glad to hear it. Listen, we don’t have much time. There are two Klingon ships in orbit, and we’re using up the last of our tricks for this chat. What’s your mission status?”

  “We’ve gone from one superpowered homicidal maniac to eleven. Plus, we have a Klingon prisoner, the sole survivor of a recon unit. He says his team planned to tag one of these Changed aliens with a transponder for beam-up. If you ask me, I’d advise against it.”

  “How dangerous are these transformed natives?”

  “They can turn us inside-out just by thinking about it, and the stronger they get, the less effect our phasers have. Also, it looks like the leader can now transform others at will. Orders?”

  “Fall back and lie low, if you can. Endeavour’s en route, ETA twenty minutes.”

  “Any chance you could beam us up?”

  “Sorry, not right now. Using that much power would tip off the Klingons for sure. Besides, we’d have to beam you up one at a time, and we’d have to abandon the rover, which I’m pretty sure would be a Prime Directive violation.”

  “I figured, but I had to ask. One more thing: We discovered a structure under the largest hill on the big island. We matched it to a Preserver obelisk—”

  “—found by the Enterprise crew. I know; Taryl showed me your search query.”

  “We also matched its energy emissions to the ones detected by our long-range probe.”

  “Yes, we noted that, too.”

  “One more thing: We might have . . . sort of, kind of . . . switched it on.”

  “Come again? You did what?”

  “We translated its glyphs using the Enterprise’s research and synthesized the activation tones for this planet’s obelisk. And now it’s building up to . . . well, to something.”

  “Could you be more specific?”

  “Believe me, I wish I could.” After an awkward silence, Theriault asked, “Orders?”

  Taryl turned from her console to interrupt the conversation. “Captain? The bird-of-prey is adjusting its orbit. They’ll be in position to intercept our signal in thirty seconds.”

  Terrell never liked having his back to the wall, but when it was, he recalled his Academy years as a champion boxer and came out punching. “We’ll do what we can up here to make sure the Klingons don’t beam any Tomol off the planet. But if the Klingons get past us, do whatever you have to down there to stop them from tagging any of the Changed for beam-up.”

  “Sir? Are you sure that’s a good idea? If you challenge those Klingon ships, you’ll be outnumbered and outgunned for at least the next twenty minutes.”

  “Don’t remind me, Commander. You have your orders. Do your best, and stay safe. Sagittarius out.” He looked at Sorak and pulled his thumb in a slashing motion across his throat. The Vulcan confirmed with a curt nod that the comm channel was closed. Nizsk and Taryl both turned and looked to the captain for new orders. He thumbed a button on his armrest to open an internal comm channel to the engineering deck. “Master Chief?”

  “Yo.”

  “We’re done with silent running. Give me full power, o
n the double.”

  “Comin’ online now.”

  Terrell turned his attention to the tactical schematic on the main viewscreen. “Taryl, switch the main screen to a forward angle, normal magnification. Nizsk, release our tether to the asteroid and set a course to obstruct the Klingon cruiser’s line of sight to the big island. Sorak, raise shields, charge phasers, and sound Red Alert.” The klaxon whooped twice, in synchronicity with the flashing crimson panels on the bulkheads. The starfield on the viewscreen stopped spinning and settled into a view of the planet. Terrell steeled himself for the coming fray.

  “Hang on to your hats, people. This ride’s about to get rough.”

  • • •

  Kang accepted the data tablet from Mara and looked over the list of personnel she had selected for the landing party. All of them were warriors of impeccable honor. “Status?”

  “All are gathered in the transporter room. Ready to beam down on your order.”

  “Good.” He handed her the data tablet and snapped at Mahzh. “Scan the surface! Find an isolated concentration of Tomol and relay those coordinates to the transporter room.” Mahzh appeared distracted as he keyed commands into the Voh’tahk’s sensor console. After several seconds passed without him acknowledging Kang’s order, the captain bellowed, “Mahzh! Scan the surface! I want target coordinates for the landing party!”

  Mahzh peered into the ruby glow of his display, and then he looked back at Kang, his teeth bared in a show of alarm. “Federation battle cruiser closing on our position at warp nine!”

  That was the last news Kang wanted to hear. “Time to intercept?”

  The weapons officer checked his readings. “Just under twenty minutes.”

  An irrational hope preoccupied Kang. Could it be the Enterprise? Its commanding officer, James Kirk, had repeatedly proved himself a thorn in the side of the Klingon people. From Kirk’s role in the Organia debacle, to the tribble fiasco he had inflicted upon Koloth, and, of course, Kang’s own ill-fated run-in with a non-corporeal entity that had delighted in using him and the Starfleet captain as puppets for its amusement in a perpetual bloodsport, the human captain and his vessel had quickly become notorious among soldiers of the Empire.

  Kang’s blood ran hot at the prospect of facing Kirk once more. “What ship is it?”

  It took a few seconds for Mahzh to compare his sensor readings to information in the Voh’tahk’s memory banks. “Energy signature is a match for the battle cruiser Endeavour.”

  Fek’lhr laughs at me from the flames of Gre’thor. An unexpected encounter with a heavily armed Federation starship was always an opportunity to seize glory, but part of Kang yearned for the special renown that would come from being the one to defeat Kirk.

  Someday, he vowed to himself. Someday. “Tactical to my monitor.” He swiveled his chair left toward his command panel, which included a small screen on which he could review a variety of data, such as battle diagrams, or receive audio-visual subspace communications. He noted the Endeavour’s course and speed. “They are in quite a rush, aren’t they?”

  Mara leaned in close beside him to steal a look at his screen. “I wonder why.”

  It was a reasonable question—one that left Kang searching for a satisfactory answer. “Why, indeed? There’s no Federation colony here. They have no shipping lanes in this sector, let alone this system. And this world seems to have none of the things Starfleet values: No dilithium. Little arable surface. No advanced culture to seduce into their pathetic Federation.”

  “And yet,” Mara said, lightly tapping one sharpened fingernail against his command screen, “the Endeavour charges into a burning house, and dares us to do battle in the flames.”

  She was right. Starfleet vessels rarely risked armed confrontation without provocation. So why was the Endeavour racing toward Arethusa at high warp?

  Then Mahzh raised his voice, and Kang had his answer.

  “New sensor contact, bearing one-seven-nine mark nine-four!” The weapons officer changed the viewscreen to show an aft-facing angle. A familiar shape emerged from behind the asteroid that was passing through Arethusa’s prime orbital plane. “Starfleet vessel, Archer-class. Energy signature confirmed. It’s the scout ship Sagittarius.” He looked up from his sensor panel. “Her shields are up, phasers charged—and she is placing herself between us and the big island.”

  Mara reasoned out the Starfleet ship’s purpose at a glance. “They’re trying to prevent us from beaming down our landing party.”

  Kang smiled. “Well, this is a turn for the unexpected.” He wondered what the scout ship’s commander was thinking. Was he foolish enough to think his tiny ship was a match for the Voh’tahk? Or was this some kind of feint, a ruse to distract Kang from his mission? Regardless of the answer, he admired the Starfleet commander’s audacity if not his tactics—but he knew better than to take victory for granted, or to leave important matters to chance.

  “Mahzh, get those beam-down coordinates to the transporter room, now. Kyris, hail the Homghor and tell them to regroup with us. This pest is their size—let them swat it away so we can maneuver clear and beam down our landing party. Mara, raise shields and arm all weapons.” The bridge crew set to work quickly and quietly, their focus as keen as a bat’leth’s killing edge. Kang pressed a switch on his armrest to snap the overhead lights from soothing red to harsh white, and to open a ship-wide PA channel.

  “All hands, this is Captain Kang. Two Federation warships are converging upon our position. They mean to thwart our mission and rob us of our glory. We’re going to make sure they fail. Today is a good day to die—as long as our enemies die first. Battle stations!”

  18

  Adrenaline coursed through Theriault’s lithe form as she darted from one hut to the next, using the ramshackle structures for cover as she and the landing party followed Nimur and her gang of corrupted Wardens across the Tomol’s village. Sprinting and then crouching, over and over, the youthful Martian-born woman became keenly aware of the aching in her calves and the fleeting jabs of pain between her ribs as she forced herself to draw deeper, slower breaths.

  Dastin scrambled after Theriault. All the way across the village, he had never been more than a second behind her, except in a few moments when he’d had to hang back to avoid being seen by Nimur or her new disciples. He arrived at Theriault’s side, ducked low, and peeked around the next corner. “Looks like the villagers are making a run for the fire pit.”

  Theriault stole a look around the corner and saw the panicked crowd of Tomol fleeing down a long trail, running from Nimur and the other Changed. Hearing the villagers’ high-pitched shrieks of terror, and seeing their tiny, slender shapes retreating into the jungle, she was reminded of the cruel fact that the entire village was populated by children—all of whom were in danger of suffering grisly fates unless someone put an end to the rampage of the Changed.

  She checked the charge on her phaser. “Nimur and the others don’t seem to be in a hurry to catch up to them. Maybe they figure time’s on their side, so why waste effort running?”

  The Trill drew his phaser and handed it to Theriault. “Whatever they’re thinking, this might be our best chance to take them out with minimal collateral damage.” He risked another furtive glance at the Changed. “I can grab a Warden’s lance and use it to draw their attention.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Why? What could go wrong? I mean, other than everything.” He hooked a thumb toward the Tomol. “At the very least, we might buy the Tomol time to find a place to hide.”

  It was a good argument, as rationales for suicide went. Theriault decided to act while she still had options. “All right, but you don’t get to be the bait. That’s my job.” She handed back his phaser, looked toward the rest of their group, and signaled Hesh and Tan Bao to join them. Seta drew her ceremonial dagger, put it to Tormog’s throat, and nodded her assurance to Tan Bao that she would be all right guarding the Klingon, who remained drugged, boun
d, and gagged.

  The two men ran to Theriault and Dastin. She held out her hand. “Phasers. Let’s have ’em.” The nurse and science officer surrendered their weapons to Theriault, who handed them to Dastin. “Tan Bao, take Seta and Tormog back the way we came and hide in the jungle. Dastin, make those phasers into an explosive by linking their charging coils and setting them for a high-speed synchronous overload. Hesh, jury-rig a trigger for the explosive that you can remotely activate with your tricorder. As soon as the charge is ready, hide it beneath some piece of loose debris in the street just around that corner over there, then regroup with Tan Bao and the others.”

  Dastin telegraphed his doubts with a single arched eyebrow. “And where will you be?”

  “If I’m lucky? Right behind you.”

  Tan Bao asked, “And if you’re not?”

  “Then I’ll be all around you, in the form of free radicals.”

  Hesh frowned. “I do not care for this plan, Commander.”

  “Good thing I don’t have to ask your permission.” She pointed Tan Bao toward the trees. “Get moving.” The nurse hurried away and led Seta and Tormog to cover in the jungle. Theriault faced Hesh and Dastin. “Get that charge rigged and placed on the double. I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to harass Nimur and her brood before I’ll have to make a run for it.”

  The scout started pulling apart the three phasers, one at a time. “You know that I can’t make this work like a shaped charge, right? This thing’s gonna vaporize everything inside its blast radius—so you’d better not be inside it when Hesh pulls the trigger.”

  “Don’t worry.” Theriault stood, tightened her grip on her phaser, and turned the corner moving in bold strides toward the Changed. “I’ve got my running shoes on.”