by Star Trek
her cheek with the back of his hand. "He is going to try something.
I do not know what, but he is doing his best to play the gentleman
for our enemy's benefit." He placed his hand behind her head and
felt the softness of her hair. "It is I who fear for his life now.
And that of the Empire."
* * *
The four ships leading the Emperor's massive battle cruiser
slowed, allowing it to pass between them. Its size boasted of
great power and its weaponry epitomized danger. The intruder's
ship paled before its presence, as it moved within five hundred
meters to its broadside, then stopped.
The Emperor observed his opponent's vessel on his view screen,
noting all was as Kang had reported. It was indeed an older class
Starfleet ship, no longer bearing the markings of her commission.
Only standard Federation registration numbers and running lights
adorned her, with the name 'Fringe Ranger' lettered across her
circular prow.
"My liege, your guard awaits you in the main transporter
room," the Captain of the Thunder announced.
The Emperor donned his new pair of gloves and made sure his
weapons belt. He glanced over to Admiral Sorr, who saluted him
PAGE 42
with fist to chest, then arm extended.
"You serve me well, Sorr. Let every ship know that when I
return, we will bring news of our victory back to Klinzhai, that
they may see how none challenge their Emperor and triumph!" With
that, he turned on his heel and left for the transporter room.
"Captain Kom, I want all sensors on that ship until the
Emperor returns. If there is anything out of order, I want you to
transport him back and reverse our course, at maximum warp.
Understood?"
"Understood, Admiral Sorr!"
"Transporter room," the Admiral spoke into wall communicator.
"Yes, Sir," responded the officer on duty.
"The Emperor is on his way, take great care in what you do
until he has safely returned!"
"Yes, My lord!"
"Now all we can do is sit." He spoke again to the Captain.
"Our triumph is near, if only it were sure," he reflected. It was
then that Sorr felt an irrational but powerful dread in his heart.
He felt the deadly jaws of a trap close around his soul and he
could do nothing but inwardly despair.
PAGE 43
*** EIGHT ****
Captain's log, Stardate: 5850.3.
We are 8 hours, 15 minutes from the planet Organia. Our
mission is contingent upon the answers I receive from the
inhabitants of the planet. To be an ambassador of good will or the
weapon of their destruction will be decided in just nine hours.
My crew is only aware of our destination. I am sure that when I
give the command for self-destruct, there will be questions that I
am unable to answer, and fears I will be powerless to quell.
Lieutenant Grensk, who is accompanying us on our voyage, is a
puzzle I have yet to solve. Uhura could find no record of his
existence when I gave her instructions to investigate his history.
No prior service records, nor credit holdings, not even birth
records were uncovered, until 5 hours ago, when I instructed her to
search again. Then she found his complete file located where it
clearly was not before. I have had a peculiar feeling about
Grensk, that I would have passed off as asocial behavior due to
the lack of trust his superior had in me. Notwithstanding, Spock
noted a strangeness to him as well. 'As if he were Vulcanoid,
masquerading as a human,' is how my First Officer put it. Spock
made several attempts to 'apparently' accidentally make physical
contact with Grensk, in order to make passive mental reception of
his thoughts, but Grensk has always managed to keep distance
between them.
Ship status: Against Chief Engineer Scott's advisement, we are
at warp seven. Mr Scott is still reporting a possibility of an
uncontrolled antimatter implosion, if we keep up our present
velocity. Under my current orders, I have little choice but to
have our speed maintained, though it is against my own personal
judgement. If we must, we can reduce speed to warp 5 and continue
to use warp speed through the Organian solar system to the planet
Organia. Warp speed is inadvisable within the proximity of any
gravitational influences, but we could still meet our deadline
should we have to slow.
In four hours the last of the fleet should be arriving just
beyond sensor range of the Klingon Side of the Neutral Zone. My
greatest fear is not in the possibility of our destroying Organia
under orders, for I do not believe we have the power to do so. But
our very presence might either provoke them to anger or cause them
to remove all restraints from both treaty sides, allowing an inter-
galactic war, to which there would be no winner.
The Federation is hanging off a ledge, and my actions may be
the force that pushes it over the brink.
End Log.
* * *
PAGE 44
James T. Kirk heard the cabin chime and allowed it to ring
twice, in case, he hoped, it rang by mistake. On the second ring,
he merely said, "Come."
Both Spock and Dr. McCoy entered as Jim lifted himself from
his desk to meet them.
"Captain," Spock began, but was immediately cut off by McCoy.
"Jim, we've got a problem." the Doctor corrected himself,
"Make that a Big Problem!"
"Not another one," Jim stated tiredly, sitting back down and
turning his chair to face the two. "This isn't my week."
"Jim, Spock told me of the suspicion you were having about
that S.I. officer you have watching you. At first I thought you
both were acting a bit paranoid, but Spock convinced me to follow
him with my medi-scanner in hand and take a reading while Spock had
him occupied."
"So, what's the Verdict? Is he Vulcan, Romulan or just a
flake?"
"None of the above, Jim... He's an android."
"An android? Bones, are you sure?"
"Not merely an android, Captain." Spock found an opening in
the conversation before McCoy could completely misinform him. "He
is a modified R-D-I combat android from the planet Tolmera. During
the Tolmerian wars, the automaton was considered an excellent
killing machine. Supposedly, the last of them had been destroyed
or dissassembled in accordance with the terms of the armistice
pact. I suspect that not only is that an inaccurate fact, but it
seems that certain members of Starfleet have taken it upon
themselves to put at least one of them to use in a probable
suicide mission."
"Suicide mission? Spock, this isn't supposed to be a suicide
mission!" Jim felt a cold needle-like jab in his stomach. Fear.
"Perhaps not for us Captain," stated Spock, "albeit, I believe
we have evidence that Commodore Stormcloud had an ulterior motive
for sending it, rather than to observe you."
"You mentioned suicide mission, Spock. What could the android
do that we weren't already o
rdered to do? Make sure there are no
witnesses to the extermination of the Organians?" Jim asked.
"I do not know exactly what the android's mission entails.
Suffice to say, he is completely capable of destroying the planet
Organia by himself."
"Tell him why, you pointed ear pixie, or are you waiting for
PAGE 45
the movie to come out!" McCoy was full of old Earth expressions.
"I believe that I was in the process of explaining myself,
when you..."
"Spock, just tell me!" Jim said impatiently.
"Captain, do you recall the Commodore stating that he had
accounted for every grain of the Garth explosive that was removed
from Elba II for purposes of experimentation?" Spock queried.
"Yes Spock, continue."
"The Commodore neglected to mention the fact that 'every grain
accounted for' had been placed in a detonation encasement lodged in
the chest of our Mr. Grensk," Spock concluded.
"This is definitely not my week," Jim said dejectedly. "The
Commodore's 'insurance policy'," he said remembering the words of
Stormcloud.
"Apparently," agreed Spock.
"So that's why we were to take the shuttlecraft down to the
planet, instead of transporting down." Jim rubbed his chin. "The
substance can't be transported."
"Now that I know this much, would ya mind filling me in on
what the heck we are going to Organia for?" the Doctor said.
"I'm afraid I've said too much already, Bones."
"That's great! We're headed for a planet that may or may not
be destroyed by a walking time-bomb, which may or may not take us
with it, and you still think you should keep your Chief Medical
Officer in the dark about why!" McCoy said angrily.
"Orders," Jim simply said, then added, "Sorry, Bones."
"Well then, if you'll excuse me, I'll go back to sickbay. At
least I know what's going on down there." He turned to leave.
"Not so fast, Bones." Jim grabbed his arm, "I may not be able
to tell you everything about our mission, but I might need your help
in dealing with our mechanical Starfleet officer."
"I'm a doctor, not the bomb-squad!" he countered, fidgeting
with his uniform.
"If I may, Captain," Spock broke in. "We are due on the bridge
in four point eight minutes. Perhaps we could continue with Doctor
McCoy's meaningless banter afterwards."
"Why you copper blooded..."
"Bones!" Jim interrupted, "Spock's right. We have to go. You
PAGE 46
go on to sickbay and we'll join you in about 15 minutes and see if
we can come up with something that will help."
McCoy looked at Spock, opened his mouth to speak, closed it,
rolled his eyes while shaking his head and walked out of Jim's cabin.
* * *
Uhura was sitting relaxed, at her station, monitoring blank
channels. She had little to do since the communications blackout
had been issued. She hummed softly to herself and rotated her
chair to look at the forward viewscreen's depiction of the stars
in front of them. She looked down at Sulu and Checkov, who were
smiling as they quietly exchanged jokes.
They were not unconcerned with the current events which had
forced them toward their destination. They were aware that it was
a priority mission and that the details could only be given on a
'need to know' basis, which caused even greater concern among them.
On the surface, the bridge crew seemed to have its normal, though
with no Captain on deck, more casual, "high" morale. Underneath,
however, the tension escalated with every kilometer gained towards
Organia.
The turbo-lift doors opened and out of it stepped Lieutenant
Grensk. He looked at the empty captain's chair and registered to
himself that Sulu must have console command. "Mr. Sulu, where is
Captain Kirk?"
Sulu faced the lieutenant, "He is in his cabin, and left word
that he is not to be disturbed..." he said, "By you," he added a
little too cheerfully.
"We are now 8 hours and 47 seconds from destination orbit, are
we not?" questioned the android.
Sulu looked at the chronometer and without showing his
surprise at Grensk's accuracy, he said, "Eight hours, forty-one
seconds, mark."
"Lieutenant Uhura, please contact Captain Kirk and inform him
that his presence is urgently required on the bridge," spoke
Grensk, unemotionally.
The lift opened again, as Captain Kirk and Spock entered,
before Grensk completed his sentence.
"Belay that, Uhura," Jim said as he and Spock walked over to
PAGE 47
the ship's emergency console. "Computer, this is Captain James T.
Kirk, engage auto-destruct program, version A7."
"Working," spoke the familiar female voice. "Encoded Nine
hours to destruct from final sequence."
The lift doors parted once again, allowing Chief Engineer
Montgomery Scott to exit it. He promptly joined the others at the
console.
The significance of the Captain's command caught everyone's
attention and caused several worried looks to be exchanged.
"Good of you to join us, Mr. Scott," the Captain greeted
Scotty.
"Good? I wouldna call riggin ma engines to blow 'good',
Captain. In fact, I've been spendin the past two days tryin to
keep em from doin just that."
"Awaiting initiation code from Captain James T. Kirk," the
computer prompted.
"Understood, Mr. Scott, but you don't think we'd be here if I
wasn't under orders or the situation didn't necessitate it?"
"Does the Captain wish to cancel auto-destruct procedures?"
the computer queried.
"Negative," Jim lied to the computer as he rested his eyes on
the Intelligence Officer across the room.
Jim spoke his code into the console, without taking his eyes
off the lieutenant. Spock identified himself and spoke his part to
the computer, followed by Mr. Scott in turn.
"Awaiting the final sequence for auto-destruct," it announced.
"Computer, this is Captain James T. Kirk, initiate final
sequence, code zero, zero, zero, destruct, A7, zero," he said.
The computer beeped 3 times and stated, "Nine hours from
destruct," and became silent, awaiting eight 60 minute intervals to
announce the hourly countdown. It would give a count by minutes at
the last hour and by seconds at T minus one minute to destruct.
Jim straightened himself and turned from the lieutenant to
Uhura. "Has communications silence been broken by anyone?"
"No, Sir, all channels are clear," she responded
professionally, not betraying her fear.
Jim stepped down to his chair of command and snapped the
intra-ship comm button to open. "This is the Captain. Though I
am under orders not to disclose the details of our mission, it is my
is my prerogative to inform you that the Enterprise is currently in
PAGE 48
countdown for destruct. We have almost 9 hours to countermand the
order, but in the event that I deem it necessary to allow it to
complete, Uh
ura will give the evacuation code and all hands will
report to their assigned shuttle craft for emergency
disembarkation. You will have no less than twenty minutes to
report and launch, so there will not be any need to worry, or
stampede. I'll keep you posted if the situation changes. Captain
out." He depressed the button again with the bottom of his fist
and closed the comm. channel. Just as quickly as the flip of the
switch, an idea came to him.
"Mr. Scott, have your men finished cleaning and inspecting
the propulsion units on all our shuttles yet?" Jim asked.
"No sir, but we should ha them done by 0900."
"That will give me two hours clear before I need one." He
paused to glance at Grensk again. "Mr. Scott," he continued, "how
long will it take to refuel, restock fresh supplies, emergency
units, recalibrate all sensors and life support systems and check
structural integrity of all shuttles? By the book!" he
emphasized.
"Well, Sir, with all ma men workin without breaks, I'd guess
about three more hours added to the first estimate. 1200 hours.
Just about the time Enterprise is set to blow, Sir," the Scotsman