Star Trek - TOS - Death Count

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Star Trek - TOS - Death Count Page 5

by L. A. Graf


  time in Sigma's tiny brig. Chekov's office was less than twenty meters

  from his quarters, so he could at least look in on them after dumping

  them into a sink filled with lukewarm water; if he left them in Sulu's

  cabin all alone, he was afraid the water would get too cold, and they'd

  die. At least this way, if they died, they would die from good

  intentions, not from suffocating in a plastic bag, or freezing in his

  best friend's quarters. Chekov left them chirping quietly in his

  darkened bathroom, splashing about with a sponge and a clean soap dish

  to keep them company. At least they sounded happy.

  The same thing couldn't be said for the security division.

  Voices from the squad room carried clearly into the main corridor

  despite Continual reminders to the guards to either close the section

  door or keep their voices down. Chekov caught a fragment of sentence in

  Ensign Lemieux's fur-soft accent, her voice sounding louder and more

  strident than usual. The precise tones that answered her told Chekov

  why. Sighing, he passed his office door and headed for the squad room,

  already suspecting he'd regret not just locking himself in his office

  and pretending he hadn't heard.

  "This isn't optional, I'm afraid," the other voice was insisting. "I

  have my orders."

  Efficiency Auditor Aaron Kelly stood just inside the squad room door,

  his back to Chekov and his clipboard held at his waist in both hands.

  Just over his shoulder, Chekov could see Barrasso and Jagr busying

  themselves with weapons maintenance while Lemieux

  ing on regulations." Kelly's relaxed politeness was almost harder to

  bear, Chekov decided, than Taylor's frantic rages. "You have to

  understandre"

  "I don't have to do anything, Mr. Kelly." He started scanning the

  downloads. "When it comes to something as trivial as duty schedules, I

  view your regulations as a list of very good suggestions from which to

  base my decisions. My crew's satisfaction with their scheduling comes

  first." His eyes caught on a familiar name amidst a dispatch, and his

  attention suddenly focused tight on the screen.

  "Lieutenant Chekov," Kelly stated in a stiff, almost horrified voice,

  "this is a matter of efficiency. Nothing about it is trivial."

  The words, amber scrambles crawling across the black background, refused

  to bind themselves to a structure. Ignoring Kelly, Chekov scrolled to

  the top of the dispatch in search of some kind of meaning.

  "... as a result of a breach in the Kongo's containment field on

  stardate 8747.6. Among the one hundred seven listed dead are Assistant

  Engineer Christopher Dailey, First Officer David Stein, and Science

  Officer Robert Cecil, who assisted in an effort to save forty-seven

  engineering crewmen immediately following the breach. Posthumous medals

  of honor will be awarded at a ceremony...

  The words continued their steady march toward nowhere, dissolving into

  nonsense again. Chekov watched them without seeing, his memory having

  flown ten years awayinto Starfleet Academy, and the wet-gray San

  Francisco winters spent in classroom simulators and training rooms. To

  a squadron bunker shared with forty other cadets, including a brilliant

  American boy named Robert Cecil.

  "We're going to be heroes," Robert had told him

  once. Robert, with his ash-blond hair, pale eyes, and quirky North

  American habitsRobert, who somehow always seemed to irritate Chekov as

  often as he amused him. Chekov trailed his fingers down the screen as

  if he could make the awful words more real by touch. They stayed just

  as distant, and just as hard to believe.

  Robert was a scientist. For him, being a hero meant proving some new

  theory, or opening investigations on some new and different world.

  Chekov's job description was the one that included dying, and even that

  could be avoided if he were lucky enough, and careful. It wasn't

  supposed to have worked out this way.

  "It isn't fair ...."

  "It's more fair than what you have right now," Kelly countered. Chekov

  jerked a look up at him, momentarily fractured fromthe conversation at

  hand. "More efficient, too."

  "Efficient?"

  "Efficient," Kelly echoed. "The schedules."

  The schedules. Who in hell cared about the schedules? Chekov ran a hand

  through his hair and switched off the terminal screen. "Mr. Kelly, if

  you don't get out of my department, I'll have you arrested for entering

  a restricted zone without authorization."

  Stung, Kelly drew his slim frame up as tall as he was able. "But I am

  authorized."

  "Get out!" Chekov kicked the chair back under the terminal desk, and

  Kelly jumped a good foot in the air. As Sweeney hurried to usher the

  auditor out the door, Chekov looked around at the startled guards

  surrounding him and felt a sting of guilt for his outburst. "I'm

  leaving," he told them. The first shock of reading the announcement was

  fadings now

  anger and grief were rushing in too fast to keep at bay. "If anyone else

  wants to see me..." He backed through the door, at a loss for how to

  excuse himself. ".,.. tell them I have something more important to

  "Captain's log, stardate 5711.12," Kirk said crisply. "The Enterprise

  has been assigned to patrol the Artdorian-Orion border following an

  exchange of diplomatic hostilities--"

  It wasn't the whir of the turbolift doors that interrupted him--it was

  the distinctive snarl of Federation Auditor John Taylor's voice bursting

  through them. Sulu exchanged gloomy looks with Bhutto. As head of the

  auditing team, Taylor had spent much of the last few days running the

  bridge crew through a battery of efficiency tests. In Sulu's opinion,

  the last thing they needed was his critical presence during a station

  departure. "--authorized by Starfleet! And I'm not going to put up

  with this kind of interference." Taylor stalked out of the turbolift,

  trailing Lieutenant Purviance behind him like a large, reluctant

  satellite. Captain Kirk looked up when they came in, then sighed and

  tapped off the console recorder.

  "Mr. Taylor." For all its even tone, the captain's voice stopped the

  auditor in his tracks. "Do you have a reason to be on the bridge right

  now?"

  "Yes, I do." Taylor drew himself up to his full, towering height. His

  scowl carved deep brackets in his aquiline face, making him look older

  than he was. "I'm here to lodge a formal protest, Captain. Commander

  Scott has locked me out of engineering."

  "He has?" Kirk glanced past the auditor to Purviance, who nodded in glum

  confirmation. The liaison officer's stocky fingers drummed uneasily on

  the bridge rail, as if he weren't looking forward to the next few

  minutes. "Did he say why?"

  "I didn't even get to see him!" Anger fountained in Taylor's voice

  again. "Heleft two 'technicians blocking the doorway, with orders not

  to let me pass!"

  Purviance cleared his throat, pitching his voice to the soothing tones

  of a practiced diplomat. "Commander Scott said it's too dangerous for

  civilians to visit e
ngineering while the ship's on active duty. I tried

  to explain that to Mr. Taylor, but he insisted on coming to see you

  about it, Captain."

  "Hmmm." Kirk rubbed a hand across his mouth, not quite managing to hide

  the smile that tugged at it. "Well, Commander Scott's order sounds

  reasonable to me. What do you think, Mr. Spock?"

  The first officer glanced up from his science console, his lean face

  impassive in the reflected reddish light. "The engineering decks do

  constitute the most hazardous sections of the ship, Captain, apart from

  the nacelles. However, I would calculate the probability of a random

  accident to

  "--more than Mr. Scott thought civilians should be exposed to," Kirk

  finished smoothly. The Vulcan raised one eyebrow, but didn't contradict

  him. "Mr. Taylor, I suggest you move your efficiency inspections to

  another part of the ship."

  "What other part?" Taylor demanded, taking a step closer despite

  Purviance's restraining hand. "You refused to let us station anyone on

  the bridge, or in any of the weapons banks; Mr. Spock asked us to stay

  out of the science labs; now we aren't allowed into engineering-"

  Purviance tapped on the auditor's shoulder. "Dr. McCoy said he wouldn't

  mind you examining sickbay," he reminded Taylor.

  The head auditor's scowl grew deeper. "Provided we leave all our

  equipment outside, because it's .not Starfleet-approved and might

  interfere with his medical sensors. He's g ot Chaiken and Gendron taking

  notes with manual pens!"

  "That certainly doesn't sound very efficient, does it?" Kirk cleared his

  throat. "Well then, how about security?"

  Taylor's expression eased a little. "We have made some progress there,"

  he admitted. "Aaron Kelly says he can probably improve the scheduling

  efficiency by--"

  "Mr. Taylor." Despite her polite tone, Uhura's voice cut through the

  conversation. The head auditor swung around, blinking down at her in

  surprise. "You have an urgent message coming from Deck Seven."

  "I'll take it here," Taylor said without bothering to ask Kirk's

  permission. Purviance rolled his eyes, and Uhura pointedly glanced at

  the captain, waiting for his reluctant nod before she patched the

  contact through.

  "Mr. Taylor, this is Kelly." Sulu recognized the agitated voice of the

  other male auditor. "We've got a problem in security."

  "What's the matter, Aaron?"

  "I'm not sure, sir, but Lieutenant. Chekov has thrown me out and told

  me never to come back."

  Sulu bit his lip, exchanging amused glances with Uhura. It was too much

  to hope that Chekov would manage to get rid of the auditors with Spock's

  urbane politeness or Scotty's shrewd maneuvering. The Russian simply

  attacked the problem head-on and with blunt force.

  "What should I do, si?" Kelly asked, after a moment's silence on the

  intercom.

  Taylor's aquiline face hardened with determination. "Proceed to the next

  stage of operations, Aaron. I'll be down to join you shortly." He turned

  back toward Kirk, swaying slightly when the Enterprise cleared the last

  of the station gantries and swung OUt into open space. "Captain, it's

  clear we're being systematically stonewalled by your crew. I de-manam"

  Wheeling stars traced fiery strands of light across the viewscreen as

  the Enterprise came around to her new course. Sulu ignored the familiar

  pitch and roll, instead checking some last minute course adjustments

  that Bhutto had relayed to his console. He heard the navigator gasp,

  and looked up in time to see the viewscreen burst into fire-bright

  static. An instant later, every station on the bridge erupted with

  alarms.

  Chapter Five

  SULU COtn BArnroY the captain's voice above the battering roar of

  warning sirens. "Spook," Kirk shouted, "what's going on?"

  The Vulcan bent over his panel, eyes narrowed against the chaotically

  strobing light it threw back at him. "It appears we have been hit by

  some kind of subspace radiation pulse, Captain. It has disrupted all

  computer circuits."

  "What about these alarms?" Kirk demanded. "Have we taken that much

  damage?" Sulu heard the howl of decompression alerts amid the other

  jolting noises, and realized why the captain sounded so urgent.

  "I do not believe so." Spook glanced up at the hissing explosions of red

  and violet fire on the screen. "Even what we see now on the viewscreen

  does not reflect outside reality, only the interference from the

  radiation pulse. The alarms are reacting to electro

  magnetic surges within the bridge stations, not to structural damage

  elsewhere on the ship."

  Sulu wrenched his eyes away from the meaningless static on the

  viewscreen to find a similar dribble of electronic nonsense crawling

  across his helm monitor. With a shock of very primitive horror, he

  suddenly realized that he was blind, deaf, and dumb to the outer

  worldmand still piloting the Enterprise through it. "Captain, I've lost

  helm control," he said sharply. "I'm cutting impulse power--no, wait a

  minute. I think the helm's back." He looked up to find the normal

  diamond-fires of stars sprinkling the dark screen again. "What

  happened?"

  "The radiation pulse appears to have faded." Spook toggled his panel

  controls and several of the alarms fell silent. "The ship seems to have

  returned to normal, Captain."

  "Then let's see if we can't get the rest of those alarms off." Kirk

  watched the screen with intent eyes, as if defying it to misbehave

  again. "Mr. Sulu, is our course still set for sector nine-eighteen

  mark three?"

  Sulu glanced'at his console monitor and saw reassuringly familiar

  figures there. "Yes, sir."

  "Then let's get out of here." Kirk's voice got easier to hear as a few

  more alarms went quiet. "Warp six, Mr. Sulu."

  "Warp six." By habit, Sulu tossed a look up at the viewscreen for one

  last verifying glimpse of stars before he engaged the warp engines. His

  fingers froze on the controls, then jerked back as if the dark metal had

  seared his skin. He flung a hand out to slam off the impulse drive.

  "Captain, we're off course!"

  "What?" Kirk sprang down to stand beside him, scanning the monitor's

  display. "Mr. Sulu, what are you talking about? This heading reads

  correct."

  "But it's not." Voice sharp with disbelief, Sulu watched the stars drift

  toward them, then tried to give the helm another course. The monitor

  display never changed. He spared one glance up at Kirk, just long

  enough to read the comprehension on the captain's face, then went back

  to fighting with the controls. A moment later, he heard Bhutto gasp

  again and looked up to see the lights of Sigma One swing back onto the

  viewscreen. The Enterprise drifted slowly toward them, running on the

  slight inertia of her cut-off impulse drive.

  "Captain!" Uhura's voice was urgent. "Inquiries coming in from Sigma

  One, sir. They want to know why we've changed our course."

  "According to the helm computer, we haven't." Kirk glanced at the

  navigation screen to watch
their present trajectory build across the

  screen, a line of red fire that ended abruptly at a solid white square.

  "Navigation shows us on a direct collision course with Sigma One, but

  helm insists we're still on our original heading."

  "Helm's not responding to reprogramming orders, sir." Sulu fought an.

  urge to drive his fist through the piloting panel that had locked them

  onto this heading. "I don't know what's wrong with it."

  Kirk swore and glanced over his shoulder. "Spook, can you bypass helm

  control?"

  "I am endeavoring to do so, Captain." The first officer's voice was as

  imperturbable as ever, but Sulu could tell from the high-speed whirring

  of his console that he was inputting commands to the ship's computer at

  a speed no human could have matched. "The radiation pulse we

  experienced has apparently caused a complete failure in that sector of

  the computer."

  "Captain, Sigma One is hailing us again." Uhura

  paused. "If our equipment malfunction is not repaired, they say we'll

  impact with the station in two and a half minutes."

  "Damn." Kirk glanced up at the screen, hazel eyes narrowed with

  concentration. "If the helm computer won't let us change our heading

  away from the station, then.we'll have to find some other way to change

  it." He spun and went back to his command console. "Bridge to

  engineering."

  "Scott here." The background sound of alarms must have told the engineer

 

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