by Diane Duane
“If we can get off Qo’noS, and meet with Kamarag,” Spock explained, “we hope to prove to him how he has been influenced, and sway him from his course.”
Malak nodded. “Vulcans do not lie, so I believe you.” He looked down at McCoy. “Do you believe you can save Valdyr?”
McCoy wiped the sweat beading on his brow. “I’ve got her stabilized…barely. If I could get her to theEnterprise, to our sickbay…”
“Take her,” Malak said, startling the doctor. These fierce-looking warriors were actually going to let themgo? Malak looked at Captain Kirk and Spock. “Take the bird-of-prey. If you can outrun those who will surely come after you, do so. Save Valdyr. And, if you can, save Kamarag. Then I will have done my duty to my lord.” He turned to his men, as if waiting for a challenge, but none came.
“Can we move her?” Peter asked McCoy. The boy’s face was nearly white with worry.
“Carefully,” McCoy warned, worried that any sharp motion would reopen some of those bleeders.
Spock leaned down and asked, “Shall I?” Gratefully, McCoy nodded, watching protectively as the Vulcan gently lifted the unconscious woman and stood up with her cradled in his arms.
McCoy trotted alongside Spock as they all headed for the small warbird.
“Spock,” Peter said, “I can override the lock, but I’ll need your tricorder.” At the Vulcan’s nod, Peter unfastened the device from around Spock’s waist, then made himself busy with the lock that would extrude the gangplank. His fingers flashed over the controls of his tricorder as he searched for the proper sequence. Suddenly there was a soft thunk; then, with a hiss of pressurized air, the ramp extended out and down. Kirk was in the lead, already heading for the ship’s bridge.
“Put her here, Spock,” McCoy directed the Vulcan, and the science officer lowered Valdyr onto a padded seat set back away from the tiny bridge, then went forward. McCoy crouched beside the woman, checking her wound and reading his diagnostic tool. Everything had held. The wound was secure. McCoy glanced around the tiny cabin. Wouldn’t this ship have its own medikit, with Klingon-specific drugs and equipment?
“How bad is it?” Peter asked, his eyes searching the older man’s face.
McCoy hesitated. Finally, he admitted, “There’s a lot of internal damage, but, Peter, with her spirit…if anyone can make it with this much damage, I’d say she can.”
Peter nodded, and tried to smile wanly. McCoy looked up to see Jim hovering over his nephew’s shoulder.
“We’re going to need you up front, Peter,” the captain ordered.
“Aye, sir,” the cadet responded and, with a final glance back at Valdyr and McCoy, moved up to the bridge.
Good,thought the doctor,get him out of my hair so I can get some real work done.
Peter watched his uncle Jim swing himself into the pilot’s seat and begin powering up the ship. Spock, to Peter’s surprise, elected to take the gunner’s seat, leaving the navigation console to the cadet.
Moments later, the tiny shuttle lifted off and swooped upward. Peter could see the change come over his uncle as Kirk gloried in the small ship’s skyward rush. The cadet called off a course, and Kirk fed it into the ship’s computer.
Suddenly, a harsh Klingon voice came over the intercom, demanding to know the ship’s flight plan, its registration number, and a half a dozen other required things ships had to have before leaving the spaceport. Peter found it ironic that even Klingons had bureaucracy.
“Any way we can bluff our way out of this?” the captain asked his crew.
“I can speak enough Klingon, Uncle Jim,” Peter told him, “but I just don’t have the answers to their questions.”
“Nor do I, Captain,” Spock told him.
“Fine,” the captain said casually, and slapped the intercom into silence, cutting the speaker off in mid-tirade. “That’s enough of that.”
“Company coming,” Peter reported tersely, as he watched his instruments. “Two cruisers.”
“Where’s the damned cloaking device?” Kirk grumbled, peering at controls covered by Klingon symbols. “On theBounty, Scotty labeled everything in English!”
Peter craned his neck to see around his uncle. “It’s on your left, that third switch, with the red telltale beside it.”
“It is possible, Captain,” Spock warned, “that other Klingon vessels may well have technology to identify this ship’s energy signature, and thus allow them to track us, even if we activate it.”
“Well, it won’t hurt to try,” Kirk said. He quickly flipped the appropriate switch. “There it is, Spock…. ”
Peter felt a subtle hum course through the shuttle, and the viewscreen changed abruptly, revealing a view of the planet below that was wavy and distorted, as though seen through a haze.
The shuttle was almost out of the atmosphere, almost into space, when one of the ships nearly caught them. “Cruiser at oh-four-three mark six,” Peter announced. “They’ve powered up their weapons and they’re tracking us!”
Spock was setting up the gunner’s targeting screen, all his attention fixed on their opponent. The other ship fired, and the shuttle shuddered violently.
“Direct hit!” Peter shouted. “Our amidships shield is down by eighty percent. Another hit there, and we won’t have to worry about confronting Kamarag.”
“What the hell’s going on up there?” McCoy shouted. Quickly, he examined Valdyr. Puce swirls colored the white packing foam in her wound.Oh no, she’s sprung a bleeder! He had no time to check the Klingon kit, and grabbed his microcautery. The ship suddenly veered sharply before he could engage the instrument. If that had happened while he was working in the wound, he could have caused irreparable damage! He had to have a steady working field.
“Another jolt like that and I may as well throw this patient out the airlock for all the good I’m doin’ her!” he yelled.
He saw Peter turn to look at Valdyr, then heard Jim’s “captain” voice order sharply, “Focus on your job, mister! Let the doctor handle his patient.” The cadet’s face flamed as he turned back around.
Let the doctor handle his patient!McCoy mentally mocked Kirk’s order. The ship lurched again, then zagged hard right. Bones had to grab Valdyr’s unconscious form to keep her secure in the chair.Handle, indeed! he fumed.I’m a doctor, not a damned juggler!
“Spock?” Jim Kirk asked, not turning his head to see his officer. “I’m coaxing every bit of speed out of this ship that I can—”
“Understood, Captain,” the Vulcan said, his voice preternaturally calm. “Targeting…locking on…and firing.”
The little bird-of-prey shivered with the force of the blast. Jim spared a glance for the viewscreen, in time to see the disrupter blast score a direct hit on their opponent.
“That’s got them!” the captain said exultantly. “Nice shooting, Spock! No loss of life, but they’ll have to break off pursuit and make a manual landing. Peter, let’s up the stakes on this pursuit. Locate one of the ring shepherds and plot us a course past it. Find us a way through that ring.”
Peter worked at his controls feverishly. “Course computed and laid in, sir,” he reported, moments later, his voice professionally confident.
“Looks good,” Jim responded, standing by to make minute course corrections. Then the ship shot toward the ring field at maximum speed.
“Cruiser approaching, dead astern! Six-four-three mark nine!” the captain heard his nephew shout. “They’re going to follow us—weapons targeting!”
“Spock,” Kirk said, “remember what happened to theKepler?”
“I do indeed, Captain,” the Vulcan said, targeting his weapons.
The shuttle hurtled into the gap. On their right side, close enough almost to touch, loomed the huge granite ring shepherd. They were beside it—they were past it—
“Now, Spock!”
“Firing aft weapons,” Spock announced, and the little warbird trembled with the force of the blasts.
The powerful beams shot into the ring
shepherd, blowing it apart in a shower of debris, spreading directly into the path of the oncoming cruiser.
Shards and chunks of rocks spun wildly, in eerie silence; then Peter’s voice reached Kirk, suddenly exultant. “Captain, the debris has overloaded their shielding! They’re breaking off!”
The Vulcan nodded. “Even Klingons can understand diminishing returns. Pursuing us at the cost of their own vessel was not worth the effort. Eminently logical.”
“Have you all finished turnin’ this blasted shoebox upside down?” McCoy bellowed from the rear.
The three men glanced at one another in exasperation. “Yes, Doctor,” Jim assured him. Then Kirk turned to look at his nephew. “Go on back if you want to, Peter. Spock and I can handle this now.”
Peter nodded his gratitude and slipped out of the seat to join McCoy. “How is she?” He still found it hard to believe they’d survived that flight through the ring gap!
“A little the worse for wear, I’m afraid,” McCoy admitted grumpily. He had an odd-looking kit opened up beside him. “Fortunately, I found this ship’s medical kit. But I’m havin’ a little trouble with the diagnostic tool—language barrier, you know? Maybe you can help.”
Peter smiled wanly. He desperately wanted to do something for Valdyr, anything…. McCoy waved the device over the pale, comatose woman. Peter translated what he could, giving McCoy the terms phonetically, since none of them meant much to him, but the doctor kept nodding and saying, “Uh-huh,” as ifhe at least understood it. McCoy dug around in the kit, found something, and slapped it in his hypo. “This’ll be a big help,” he mumbled, as he pressed it to Valdyr’s neck. “Though, heaven knows she’s got a damnedpharmacy in there now.”
Suddenly, the woman’s eyes fluttered open. “Pityr…” she gasped.
“He’s right here, miss,” McCoy told her. “Don’t move now. Talk to her, son, before she starts thrashin’.”
“Valdyr.” The cadet took her hand, squeezed it gently. Her returning grip was weak, and that shocked him more than even her appearance.
“My warrior,” she whispered, “you cannot only fight…you can speak…so well…like a diplomat…as well as Azetbur…”
Peter flushed with pride, knowing the high opinion Valdyr had of the female chancellor.
“I’d say he’s every bit as eloquent as his uncle, young miss,” McCoy agreed, checking her signs, and examining her wound for fresh blood.
Valdyr frowned, blinking drowsily. “Pityr, what am I missing?”
The cadet shook his head, not following her.
“This McCoy, he keeps saying to me, ‘miss,’ ‘miss’—what is this I am missing? I do not want to be missing anything!”
McCoy heard her, and raised his eyebrows. Peter nodded, trying to assure the doctor it was all right. “It’s okay, Valdyr. You’re not missing anything. ‘Miss’ is an archaic title, what humans sometimes call young, unmated females. It’s old-fashioned, but it’s a sign of respect.”
Her gaze drifted to McCoy. “Thank you for that respect, Doctor. I did not think that would be such an easy thing to get from humans.”
“Youearned that, miss,” McCoy assured her. “Now, please, just lie still.”
Suddenly, she turned back to the young Kirk, her eyes widening. “Pityr, do not forget to tell your uncle…about Kamarag…. ”
“He knows all about Kamarag, Valdyr,” the cadet tried to reassure her.
“No,” she insisted, “he does not! You must tell him about Kamarag’s fleet. I do not know how many ships, but he had many officers that he spoke to! Do not let Kirk fly right into his ambush…. ”
“I’ll tell him, Valdyr, I’ll tell him. You’ve got to take it easy.”
“Pityr, please, kiss me,” she demanded, her voice hoarse and breathless. “If I am to die, I want to take the memory of your kiss with me, Pityr-oy.”
“You’re not going to die, Valdyr,” Peter told her. “I’ll fight death for you, just like I fought Karg. And I’ll win.” Gently, he touched her mouth with his.
She laughed lightly as he did.“Hlja’!” she whispered.“MevQo’, Pityr….” Then she slid back into unconsciousness.
Peter glanced at McCoy, alarmed, but for once the doctor seemed unconcerned. “It’s okay,” the older man assured him. “Her body’s shutting down its less important functions, to preserve its energy. She’s holding on.”
The cadet sighed, relieved. “Call me if she comes to,” he asked, and McCoy nodded as Peter returned to his station.
His uncle and Spock acknowledged his arrival as Peter relayed the message from Valdyr to Jim Kirk about Kamarag’s forces.
“Don’t worry, Peter. We can still beat him back to the rendezvous point. We’ll warnEnterprise in time.”
“And then what?” Peter demanded, bleakly.
Kirk shrugged. “Maybe there will be another ship or two around. I’ll contact Scotty, and have him call for help.”
“The nearest starbase is two days’ journey away,” Peter pointed out darkly.
“Take it easy for the moment, Peter,” Kirk tried to reassure him. “We’ll find a way to handle Kamarag. And, by the way, youwere pretty damned eloquent, cadet.”
“Thanks, Uncle Jim.”
The elder Kirk patted the helm and changed the subject. “This is one sweet little ship, isn’t she?” he said to the other two men. “So…” he patted the console again, “what’ll we name her?”
“Actually, Klingon ships are called ‘he,’ ” Peter said, tightly. “And he has a name. It’s painted on his bow. I spotted it as we boarded him.” His face was an expressionless as Spock’s, belying the turmoil of emotions inside him. “He’s called theTaj.”
Spock looked pensive. “Ironic…” he muttered.
“What does it mean?” Jim asked.
“Dagger,”Peter said, a shadow crossing his face.
No one said anything more asTaj flew on, swift and alone in the blackness.
Nine
Hours later, a weary James T. Kirk piloted theTaj into theEnterprise ’s docking bay. Waiting for him in the docking bay was a welcoming committee consisting of a medical team, a grim-faced Mr. Scott, Commander Uhura, and Ambassador Sarek.
Within moments a medical team spirited Valdyr away, with McCoy and Peter in tow. Kirk stood at the top of the gangplank and watched the two of them, his heart aching a little for his nephew.Peter in love with aKlingon? But it had happened, there was no denying it. It was obvious that this was no casual affair; Peter had fallen, and fallen hard. Was there any possibility of a future for the two of them together? Any hope of happiness? He didn’t know….
Ten minutes later, once more in uniform, the captain hurried down the corridor, fastening the flap of his maroon jacket.
When he reached the conference chamber, he found his officers, plus Sarek, already assembled. Spock, also, was back in uniform. In contrast to his own weary dishevelment, the Vulcan was, of course, impeccably groomed and seemed as fresh as if he hadn’t played hide-and-seek on Qo’noS for the past fifteen hours.
Kirk lowered himself into a seat and addressed his chief engineer. “Status, Mr. Scott?”
“Well, Captain…I dinna know exactly what’s goin’on, but something worrisome is happening. Half an hour ago, we picked up a blip for about five seconds on our sensors—and then it was gone. Three minutes later, another…not far away. Just…blip, then gone. Over and over, sir. Never in the same space twice…but stayin’ just barely within the boundary of the Neutral Zone—th’RomulanNeutral Zone.”
“What do the sensors indicate?” Kirk asked. “Could it be Kamarag’s fleet?”
“Noo, sir, it’s not large enough for that. We canna get a full readin’, Captain, because it comes and goes so quickly. Just bits and pieces. It isna small, that’s for sure. I’d say ship-sized.”
“No possibility of it being a natural phenomenon?”
“Noo, Captain. My guess is that it’s a ship. A cloaked ship. It decloaks just long enough to register on
our sensors as a blip, then it recloaks and moves. But never very far away.”
“A bird-of-prey,” Kirk said, and Scott nodded. “Klingon?”
“Possibly,” Spock said, studying the limited sensor data Scott displayed for their benefit. “But I think not. The ion traces are different from those we detected from cloaked Klingon vessels.”
“And, Captain,” Uhura spoke up, “there’s something else that’s suspicious about it. The instant we first picked it up, something began jamming our long-range communications. We can’t send subspace messages, sir.”
“Hmmmm…” Kirk sipped coffee, thinking hard. “Show me the blips,” he said, and Scott obediently called up a three-dimensional schematic on the conference table’s screen. Kirk studied the pattern as he finished his coffee. “What do you make of this, Spock?”
“I would like the opportunity to study it further,” the Vulcan said, gazing intently at the screen. Sarek also stared at the screen, barely blinking. Kirk could almost hear the Vulcan wheels turning.
“What would happen,” the ambassador said quietly, “if we were to move closer to it?”
“We can try,” Kirk said. “Mr. Scott, Commander Uhura, please report to the bridge to oversee maneuvers. Scotty, see how much of an ion trail our visitor is leaving. Uhura, try and determine the range their jamming signal has.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Aye, sir.”
Minutes later, with the two senior officers standing by, Kirk instructed the helm to head for the last recorded blip at one-eighth impulse power.
“Look!” Uhura exclaimed over the intercom as another blip abruptly flashed on, then off. This one was deeper into the Neutral Zone by several hundred kilometers.
“It’s like a game,” Kirk said, staring hard at the screen. “They want to lure us into the Neutral Zone.”
“A game,” Sarek repeated softly, an undercurrent of excitement in his voice. “Yes indeed…a game! But not follow-the-leader…watch closely…” The Vulcan’s long-fingered hands flashed swiftly over the computer controls.