by Dayton Ward
“Search efforts?” asked Chekov. “Are you suggesting we attempt to follow the probe into the other universe?”
Spock nodded. “That may be our only course of action, Ensign. However, given the speed with which the probe’s power systems were depleted, it is reasonable to assume that the Enterprise would be similarly affected.”
“But now that we’ve determined there are life signs over there,” said Chekov, “shouldn’t we be able to configure the Transfer Key to retrieve them and bring them back here? After all, the whole point of the transfer-field generator was to bring the Jatohr over from their universe. Surely we can do the same for our people.”
“We require more information before attempting such a retrieval,” Spock replied. “Doing so without conclusively identifying individual life signs could prove hazardous. There is also the fact that we simply do not know how to employ the Transfer Key for such an action.”
Studying the sensor readings, Chekov could not help releasing a small sigh. “The life-form readings are the most difficult to sort, Mister Spock. They all seem jumbled.” The information seemed to swim together, with different streams blending in a manner that defied easy extrapolation. To Chekov, it all appeared as though the environment surrounding the probe was behaving as an organism.
That doesn’t make sense. Maybe I’m just tired.
A series of alert tones sounded from his console, and Chekov scowled as he noted the new readings. “That’s it, Mister Spock. The probe’s power cells look to be drained.” There was no way to know what additional sensor data it had managed to collect before depleting its energy reserves. That would only happen if they could figure out how to return it from the other universe.
“We have collected considerable information,” said Spock. “It should prove sufficient for continuing our research.”
What must he be thinking?
The question came unbidden, coursing through Chekov’s mind. To this point, Spock had been quite successful in not appearing preoccupied with concern for his father, though the ensign knew the Vulcan’s human mother was very despondent over the current situation. Likewise, Doctor McCoy also was worried about his daughter, who had been transported with Sarek from Centaurus. It made sense that even with his superior emotional control, Spock still would feel anxiety about his father’s well-being. That likely was compelling the first officer to work as hard as he had been doing to this point. Chekov knew that Spock was on his third consecutive duty shift and showed no signs of slowing down.
He needs your help. That’s why you’re here. So, get back to it.
That was all the motivation Chekov needed. The fatigue that had been teasing the edges of his awareness would just have to wait. Blowing out his breath, the young ensign returned to his workstation. Even with the probe’s transmissions now halted, there remained volumes of sensor data to review.
Somewhere in the midst of that mess was an answer.
Twenty
“Captain, we have lost all sensor contact with the probe.”
Eschewing his command chair, J’Teglyr had taken to stalking the bridge of the Vron’joQ, pausing at each station and staring over the shoulder of the Klingon officer manning each console. Everyone here was on alert, their attention riveted to the controls and actions for which they were responsible. Even J’Teglyr was feeling the heightened awareness, his every nerve seemingly alive with the rush of anticipation.
“What are you talking about?” Coming abreast of the tactical station, he peered past an anxious Lieutenant G’peq to the fire-control system displays. It took him only a moment to assess the situation as conveyed by the ship’s sensors. As his tactical officer had reported, the Starfleet probe appeared to no longer be anywhere within sensor range. As for the Starfleet ship, it was doing as its commander had promised. The scans showed that the Enterprise was keeping to its orbit above Usilde while maintaining an interval from the Vron’joQ that was well away from anything J’Teglyr might see as close proximity or an attempt at provocation.
“Our sensors were tracking it from the moment it was launched, my lord,” said G’peq. “After it began emitting that odd signal, our scans began to experience some disruption, but I was able to reconfigure our systems. Then the probe simply vanished.”
J’Teglyr frowned. “Could it be a cloaking device?” The very thought was troublesome. Had the Earther captain deceived him by launching a covert weapon that could strike the Vron’joQ at any moment? “Has the Federation stolen such technology from the Romulans or someone else?”
“I do not believe that is the case,” replied G’peq. “The disruption to our sensors was inconsistent with the effect associated with known forms of cloaking devices. Also, according to the latest intelligence reports, the Federation has not been developing its own stealth technology.”
A student of Federation and Romulan affairs from his earliest days as an academy cadet, J’Teglyr had studied the unvarnished reports and other historical records of both powers as provided by decades of history professors, military commanders, and intelligence agents. Because of those studies, he was well aware of the conflict between the Romulan Empire and the Earthers from more than a century ago, and even the continuing skirmishes that had lasted into the early years of this century. One of the agreements contained in the peace accords between the two warring parties, the Treaty of Algeron, outlawed the Federation’s ability to develop cloaking technology such as that employed by the Romulans.
To J’Teglyr, it seemed both a courageous and a foolish stipulation on the Federation’s part. Why would one purposely limit a sound tactical option when preparing for war against present and future enemies? Even with everything he had read and come to know about the Federation, questions such as those still perplexed him. Such decisions would seem to invite more trouble than they were intended to prevent. Would it be a stance like this that ultimately proved the Federation’s undoing? J’Teglyr thought not. After all, despite whatever gracious facade they might put forth for the purpose of formal diplomatic posturing, it was easy to imagine, somewhere in a dark room hidden deep in the heart of all that Federation nobility and sensitivity, someone was hard at work attempting to circumvent such “civilized” agreements in favor of strategic advantage.
Earthers are more like Klingons than they care to admit.
Glancing back to the tactical display, J’Teglyr saw that the Enterprise was continuing to maintain its position relative to the Vron’joQ. Farther away, though only a distance of minutes at impulse speeds, was the I.K.S. Qo’Daqh, still on its inbound course. What were its captain’s intentions? J’Teglyr knew Commander Visla only by her tarnished reputation: a disgraced officer who acted as nursemaid to a collection of malcontents and other dregs of Klingon society. Why was she here now? If Visla harbored any lingering vestiges of honor, she would do well to set her vessel’s self-destruct mechanism while still far enough from other ships to inflict damage or inconvenience.
“There are new readings from the planet’s surface, my lord,” reported Commander D’jorok, who had taken to manning one of the bridge’s other sensor control stations. “Power levels within the alien construct are increasing far above anything we have seen since our arrival.”
J’Teglyr turned his attention once more to the tactical station. His gaze lingered on the computer-generated representation of the Federation ship. “It has to be the Enterprise. They have learned how to manipulate the alien technology.” It was obvious that Kirk and his crew had benefited from their ability to study the Transfer Key, the field generator’s singular crucial and apparently irreplaceable component. The very notion had seemed outlandish when J’Teglyr first heard it, but the evidence now before his eyes would seem to prove that the Earthers held control over the Jatohr citadel.
“They go to all this trouble,” he said, “they face so much risk, and for what?” He at first had not believed Kirk’s assertions that Co
uncillor Gorkon and others might be rescued from whatever “parallel universe” connected to their own via the transfer generator. With the Enterprise probe having now vanished from all modes of detection, perhaps this idea was not so implausible after all.
“If they have learned the secrets of the Transfer Key,” said D’jorok, “then we must seize it.”
J’Teglyr grunted. “And how do you propose we do that? Attack their ship? Send a boarding party to snatch it and any other goods like common pirates?”
“My lord,” said G’peq, “the Qo’Daqh is on final approach, but it is maintaining full impulse speed.”
His eyes narrowing with suspicion, J’Teglyr asked, “What is its course? An approach for orbit?”
The tactical officer shook his head. “No, Captain.” Leaning over his console, he consulted the sensor readings again before adding, “It appears they are . . . they are assuming an attack vector against the Enterprise!”
* * *
Red alert sirens wailed across the bridge. On the viewscreen, the Klingon D5 battle cruiser was sailing into the frame, its forward disruptor ports already glowing with emerald power.
“Deflector shields activated!” called out Lieutenant Sulu at the helm.
Clutching the arms of his command chair, Kirk ordered, “Ready phasers and photon torpedoes. Lieutenant Rahda, stand by to fire on my command.”
Seated in front of him at the navigator’s station, Naomi Rahda replied, “Weapons ready, sir.” The lieutenant had been summoned to the bridge to substitute for Ensign Chekov, who was still assisting Spock belowdecks. She was a seasoned officer, recently transferred from the U.S.S. Potemkin and rated for both helm and navigation as well as weapons and sensors. Rahda had only been with the Enterprise for . . . what was it? Less than two weeks, and here she was, hip deep in an emergency situation?
Welcome aboard, Lieutenant.
The arrival of the new ship had not been unexpected. Long-range sensors had detected its approach well enough in advance that Kirk and his crew had ample warning of any attack. Like the Vron’joQ in orbit above Usilde, this new ship had maintained a peaceful posture, running without active weapons or shields. Only in the last moments before it entered range for an expected orbital insertion had it assumed a more confrontational profile.
And what the hell is that about?
“Definitely targeting us, Captain,” reported Lieutenant Michael Medeiros, the young officer manning the science station while Spock was off the bridge. “They’re going for target lock and moving into position to fire.”
Kirk said, “Evasive maneuvers, Sulu. Phasers, lock on.”
“Evasive, aye.”
Turning from the sensor controls, Medeiros shouted, “Incoming!”
An instant later the weapons ports at the front of the Klingon ship spat forth a pair of pulsing energy orbs. On the viewscreen, the disruptor bolts grew larger and angrier with each passing heartbeat. Sulu pushed the Enterprise away from its opponent, and the Klingon vessel disappeared up and out of the viewscreen’s frame. The helm officer was fast, but not fast enough to completely avoid the attack.
Everything around Kirk shook and rattled from the impact of the disruptors against the Enterprise’s shields. The overhead lighting flickered as did a number of the display screens and control consoles around the bridge. He felt himself lifted from his seat but maintained his grip on the chair’s armrests, preventing himself from being thrown to the deck. Everyone else managed to maintain their positions as well.
“Indirect hit to our port shields, aft,” said Lieutenant Medeiros. “I’m reading several circuit overloads and power fluctuations in the port warp nacelle and engineering sections twelve and fourteen. No hull breach.”
Knowing Mister Scott and his people would have that situation in hand, Kirk kept his focus on the more immediate problem. A glance to the astrogator between Sulu and Rahda showed him the relative positions of the Enterprise and their attacker. He noted that the Vron’joQ, which had been lurking at the edge of the scanner’s display, was maintaining its position in orbit above the planet. Whatever this new arrival was doing, it appeared Captain J’Teglyr wanted no part of it, at least for the moment.
How lucky we are.
“Bring us about, Sulu,” he said. “Rahda, don’t wait for my order. Fire the second you have a clear shot.”
The Indian officer spared only a glance over her shoulder. “Aye, sir.”
“They’re coming around again, Captain,” said Medeiros. “They’re trying to get in behind us.”
Kirk leaned forward in his seat. “Don’t let them do that, Sulu.”
The lieutenant did not reply, his attention focused on his controls. His piloting prowess was evident both on the viewscreen and the astrogator as the Enterprise maneuvered over, under, and around the Klingon vessel, searching for an avenue of attack while denying it to its adversary.
Medeiros warned, “They’re firing again!”
The effect of the second strike was not as pronounced, thanks to Sulu’s skill, but the Enterprise still trembled beneath the force of at least one disruptor striking its shields.
“Glancing blow to starboard shields,” said Medeiros, who was gripping the edge of the science console with one hand while using the other to brace himself against the station’s sensor viewer.
Sulu cast a quick look over his shoulder to Kirk. “Bringing us about.”
“Firing!” called out Rahda.
On the viewscreen, the Klingon ship rolled into view as the Enterprise approached it from below and behind just as twin beams of blue-white energy lanced across the space separating the two vessels. Energy flared at the phasers’ point of impact against the enemy ship’s deflector shields, and Lieutenant Rahda followed this initial strike with a second salvo even as the other ship moved to evade the attack. Her targeting was perfect, as Kirk saw the phasers slam into the shields just before a third shot pushed through and tore into the battle cruiser’s hull. Without waiting, Rahda fired again and this time both beams struck the ship’s aft section. Kirk noted the momentary burst of released atmosphere signifying a hull rupture.
Medeiros reported, “Direct hits on their aft hull section, Captain. Their aft shields are also down, sensors show damage to their main engines, and at least one compartment has been breached. I’m also picking up a series of massive overloads and circuit failures across the ship.” He turned away from the sensor viewer. “I think we hit their primary power plant, sir.”
Kirk looked to Rahda. “Nice shooting, Lieutenant.”
The Klingon ship had altered its course and was now moving away from the Enterprise, and Kirk could see that the enemy vessel was not attempting to reacquire a target.
“Hold your fire, Lieutenant,” he said. “Mister Medeiros, what’s their status?”
Still hovering over the sensor viewer, the young lieutenant replied, “More surges in the ship’s main power systems. Secondary systems are also fluctuating.”
Rahda turned in her seat. “I was targeting its engines, but just to disable its propulsion, sir.”
“I know, Lieutenant.” Kirk gestured to the viewscreen. “It’s an older ship. That might have as much to do with it as anything.” Looking to Medeiros, he asked, “Was anyone in that breached compartment?”
The lieutenant replied, “Negative, sir, but scans are picking up more power fluctuations, and now I’m reading a failure in their life-support systems.”
Turning his chair toward the communications station, Kirk said, “Uhura, hail them and ask if they require assistance.” He glanced back to the viewscreen, which now showed the Klingon ship in obvious distress as it drifted and began to tumble to starboard. “And contact Captain J’Teglyr. I want to let him know we’re not pursuing the fight. Mister Sulu, hold this position.”
“Aye, sir,” replied the helm officer.
After a
moment spent working her controls, Uhura said, “The other ship isn’t responding, but they are receiving our hails. Captain J’Teglyr is coming through now, though.”
“Put him onscreen.”
Kirk turned to face the main viewer in time to see the image shift from the damaged Klingon vessel to J’Teglyr. Dispensing with any attempt at pleasantries, Kirk said, “Perhaps you know why your fellow captain launched an unprovoked attack on my vessel, Captain.”
The Klingon had been preparing to say something when he was cut off, and Kirk watched his mouth shut, then open again. His eyes widened in obvious surprise and annoyance at the veiled accusation, and he pushed himself from his chair and stepped forward until his face all but filled the viewscreen.
“I was not aware that the Qo’Daqh would attack, Kirk. Its captain did not provide me with any advance warning of her intentions. She was acting on her own.”
What the hell was all this about? Kirk forced his expression to remain neutral as he considered the possibilities. Who was this female Klingon commander? Was she some kind of rogue officer with a vendetta?
At the science station, Medeiros said, “The Vron’joQ’s shields are still down, Captain.”
“Of course my shields are down!” snapped J’Teglyr. “I told you I would not take any aggressive action so long as you did the same.” He paused, looking at something Kirk could not see. “However, I note that your defenses are still active, Captain.”
Rising from his chair, Kirk placed his hands on his hips. “Yes, they are, and they’ll remain that way until I’m satisfied that this little skirmish is over, but we’re holding our present position. I have no intention of moving unless provoked. Your other ship has damage to its life-support systems. It will require repair or an evacuation. We stand ready to assist if you want our help.”
“Maintain your distance, Kirk,” replied the Klingon. “I will deal with the Qo’Daqh.” After a moment, he added, “Though your offer is appreciated.” While it was a reluctant addendum, Kirk noted the hint of genuine gratitude it also possessed.