Star Trek - TOS - Death Count

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Star Trek - TOS - Death Count Page 17

by L. A. Graf


  ship you back to the Andorians as soon as possible."

  HasIcy sighed. "You Starfleet people are all so short-sighted," he

  complained. "You just don't recognize true genius. I knew it would be

  like this when I came on board."

  "How did you come on board?" McCoy glanced up

  from sliding Chekov onto the transport platform. "I don't remember any

  intruder alerts going off."

  "No, there was one," Sulu said suddenly. Memories of chaotic alarms and

  red alert sirens swept through his head, but it took him a moment to pin

  down the time and place. "It was right after we left Sigma One, duing

  that radiation burst."

  "But Chekov said one of the auditors set off that alarm." Kirk turned to

  glance at Aaron Kelly, hovering behind McCoy like a dark, worried

  shadow. "Was that you?"

  Kelly nodded sheepishly. "I don't really know what kind of alarm I

  tripped, sirtI just banged on the nearest security panel until something

  went off."

  "How convenient," commented Haslev. He saw Kirk's glare and added

  hurriedly, "For me, of course. !

  wondered why no one had been looking for me."

  "Where have you been hiding?" Kirk asked.

  The Andorian blinked pink eyes at him. "I'm not sure I should tell you

  that, either."

  Sulu gave Kirk a meaningful glance across Haslev's shoulder. "We can

  always leave him out as bait for the Orion saboteur," the helmsman

  suggested.

  "That's not a bad idea," Kirk agreed. Haslev jerked upright, his short

  antennae fluttering with outrage.

  "You wouldn't dare!" He glanced from Kirk's grim face to Sulu's

  impassive stare. "Oh, all right. If you must know, I've been hiding in

  your turbolift shafts."

  "Is that what's been causing all these damn lift delays?" McCoy grunted

  with annoya nce. "How'd you manage to keep from being crushed?"

  A smirk curled Haslev's pale lips upward. "I've found all the computer

  codes on board this ship ridiculously easy to manipulate. You really

  should consider hiring someone like me to update them."

  McCoy snorted. "I don't know about you, Jim, but I've heard just about

  enough from this guy. If you don't mind, I'm going to take your

  security chief off to sickbay."

  Kirk removed one glove and rubbed a tired hand across his face,

  deliberately turning a shoulder,. to Haslev. "How is he, Bones?"

  "Lucky," the doctor replied promptly. "Fortunately for him, it takes a

  phaser more than a few seconds to burn through a human shoulder blade.

  He's going to need some skin regeneration, probably a bone graft, and a

  ligament reattachment as well."

  "Get on it," Kirk said. "I want to talk to him as soon as he's awake."

  "I ammawake, sir."-The wavering voice was almost unrecognizable except

  for the accent. Sulu cast a worried glance at the medical sled, seeing

  nothing beyond the back of a tousled dark head. Kirk hurried around the

  'oer side of the transport, crouching beside the wounded security

  officer. "Sir, the saboteur-"

  "--is Orion, we know." Kirk rested a hand on Chekov's good shoulder.

  "Did he say anything while he was down here?"

  "No, sir." The Russian took a steadying breath. "He's armed--with at

  least one phaser, set on high heat, to avoid setting off the weapons

  detectors--that's how he got Davidson and Tate--" His head lifted

  slightly. "He escaped--down the access ladder--"

  "We've already started a shipwide search. Don't worry, we'll catch

  him." The certainty in the captain's voice seemed to reassure Chekov as

  much as the words. The security officer relaxed back onto the medical

  transport with a sigh, and McCoy towed him

  down the corridor. Sulu watched them go, his eyes widening in surprise

  when a familiar tall figure stepped out of the turbolift and skirted

  carefully around the sled.

  "Spock." Kirk's head lifted alertly. "What's the problem?"

  "There is no problem, Captain. I merely have some information that I

  did not wish to transmit to you over ship channels." The Vulcan stopped

  a few paces away from Haslev and regarded him calmly. "Muav Haslev, I

  presume?"

  The Artdorian's antennae quivered in vexation. "Does everyone in the

  universe know who I am now?" he demanded querulously.

  "The wages of treachery, Mr. Haslev." Kirk lifted an eyebrow at Spock.

  "Can you give me this information in front of our--ermguest?"

  "I believe so, Captain." As usual, Spock's lean face betrayed no

  emotions, but Sulu got the distinct impression of urgency. "I have been

  calculating the probable arrival times of the Orion ships Umyfyrnu and

  Mecufi. Based upon our last contact, I estimate they will overtake our

  current position in approximately three hours thirteen minutes."

  Kirk thoughtfully rubbed a thumb across his mouth. "And how long does

  Mr. Scott think our hull repairs will take?"

  "No less than five hours, Captain, even with all available engineers

  assigned to the task."

  "Hmm." Kirk swung back toward Muav Haslev, whose blue face had faded to

  ashy violet. "Well, that settles it, Mr. Haslev. We're throwing you

  off the ship."

  "What?" Haslev's antennae flexed in shock. "You can't do that!"

  "On board the Enterprise, I Can do anything I want to." Kirk glanced

  over at Sulu, one corner of his mouth lifting with amusement. "Mr.

  Sulu, I want you to get an interstellar shuttle ready for the trip back

  to Sigma One. Plot a course that will take you wide of the Orions." The

  captain gave Haslev one last ironic look. "We're going to send our

  golden goose away before the foxes get here to fight over it."

  Chapter Thirteen

  "I Bow rosx x mnqo you need to give you extra help on your job. Do you

  have any idea what a Mark IV Defense Corn goes for on the open market? I

  can get it for you at cost."

  Chekov tried to align his jacket shoulders so they didn't feel so

  awkward over McCoy's restrictive sling. He wondered if Haslev

  appreciated how lucky he was that Chekov didn't have a free hand to

  clamp over his

  mouth all the way down to the shuttle bay. "Come onmuncuff my hands."

  Probably not.

  "Shut up," Chekov said, not turning to look at his prisoner, "or I'll

  shoot you."

  "Pavel--" The rebuke in Uhura's tone was obvious despite the long

  whistle of their turbolift plummeting down to the secondary hull. In a

  slightly-too-big new uniform, without her usual elegant touch of gold at

  ears and throat, she looked smaller and more fragile than usual. "Maybe

  you ought to let somebody else escort Mr. Hasler to Sigma One with us."

  "There isn't anybody else." Chekov lifted his left arm to let her step

  around in front of him, recognizing by the way she tugged at his jacket

  that she'd finally tired of watching him fumble to dress himself. "The

  captain needs all the able-bodied guards to track down the saboteur, and

  Dr. McCoy won't let me do anything even if I stay on board. I might as

  well sit on a shuttle and hold a phaser on him--" He jerked his chin in

  Haslev's direction. "--for the next four days so all the healthy people

>   can stay at home."

  Uhura twisted her mouth into a wry grimace while she slipped his belt

  off-and rolled it up between her hands. "Does that mean if I call Dr.

  McCoy, he'll tell me you were released from sickbay and returned to

  active duty?"

  No. It meant. McCoy would tell her Chekov had been released and sent

  home to sit around and do nothing for the next five days. Chekov

  suspected she knew that already. "He released me," he sighed, feeling

  boyish as she half-fastened the collar of his jacket and left the rest

  to hang open. "If I really wanted to ignore doctor's orders, I'd stay

  on board and run around after Orions. As it is, sitting on a shuttle is

  no different than sitting in my cabin. Please--" He pulled at his jacket

  again, resigned to being uncomfortable until the sling came off. "Just

  let me do this."

  The turbolift doors coasted open on the vast pod of the landing bay, and

  Haslev asked meekly, "Would it help if I said I was sure I could take

  care of myself for the trip?"

  Chekov ushered Uhura out the door. "No."

  Two rows of shuttles tracked like gleaming metal peas down the long open

  space. Chekov glanced around, then located the Hawking among the large

  interstellar shuttles near the landing bay doors. Uhura angled for the

  craft without pausing, her footsteps echoing through the bay ahead of

  Chekov's. "If I were being a good officer," she complained, "I'd tell

  Cap-rain Kirk you assigned yourself to this security detail and make

  sure he didn't let you come."

  Then thank God she could be convinced to just be a good friend. "Thank

  you."

  They rounded the Hawkingas blunt nose to find the sleek side door

  already open. A supply sled bobbed there under the weight of two

  technicians, loading food and water into the hold for the four-day trip

  to Sigma One. Chekov steered Haslev toward the boarding ramp when the

  Andorian tried to wander the other way, urging him to march up it with a

  hand at the small of his back.

  "You're just not into basic compassion, are you?" Chekov pushed him into

  a seat. "Sit down."

  "Hey!" Sulu poked his head out of the open cockpit, his own uniform

  looking too pressed and new-made to have ever been worn before. It

  occurred to Chekov that his friends must have abandoned nearly

  everything they owned to the hull breach. "Chekov, what're you doing

  here? Who's taking care of my lizards?"

  The lieutenant didn't look up from fastening Haslev's wrist restraints

  to the bolts on the arms of his chair. Just thinking about the breach

  made his heart labor. "Nobody."

  "That's not funny." Sulu made a tragic face. "I paid a lot of money for

  those guys."

  And somebody had no doubt paid a lot of money for that Orion saboteur.

  "If the ship blows up before

  we get home, Sulu, it won't matter who was or wasn't watching them."

  "That's one way to look at it." Sulu feigned whispering to Uhura as she

  settled into her own chair. "What's put him in such a good mood?"

  "The whole point of moving Hasler," Uhura explained, answering Chekov

  instead of Sulu, "is so the saboteur won't have to try to cripple the

  Enterprise anymore."

  Haslev crumpled his antennae against his skull with a groan. "Does that

  mean he'll be coming after us instead?"

  "Probably." Nodding an okay to the technicians ready to dog the outer

  hatch, Chekov slid into a seat at the front of the row. "But if we blow

  up before we get home, the lizards still won't matter."

  Sulu blew a low whistle and backed into the cockpit to get ready for

  takeoff. "I just love it when you're being Russin.Y He ignored Chekov's

  scowl to toss a look at Uhura"Does this mean he gets to ride up front

  with me?"

  "Please--take him." Haslev only cringed a little when Chekov turned to

  glare at him across the empty shuttle. "For my sake, at least--I'm

  afraid of what will happen if you leave him back here."

  The Enterprise's huge hangar doors peeled open in stately silence.

  Cbekov sat beside Sulu in the navigator's chair, absently rubbing his

  thumb over a dark 'indicatOr light while their shuttle drifted forward

  to be enveloped by blackness and distant stars. It felt strange not to

  have a real job on this mission; Sulu had

  downloaded whatever navigational data he needed from the Enterprise's

  main computer, and Hasler could hardly be considered much of a threat.

  In fact,

  sitting there with his shoulder aching and his sling chafing at the back

  of his collar, Chekov felt more like excess baggage than an officer. He

  sighed and pulled the phaser from his belt to toss it up onto the panel

  in front of him.

  Sulu glanced aside from his piloting with a smile. "You're the one who

  sai d you wanted to come."

  Chekov snorted. "I just wish I could have come with both arms."

  "No, you don't." Delicate engine gantries swept across the viewscreen as

  Sulu lifted them clear of the Enterprise and started their turn. "If

  you had both arms, you'd just be grumping about how you'd rather be back

  on the ship helping track down the saboteur. I know you."

  Yes, he did. It was galling sometimes. "Don't mind me," Chekov

  grumbled, shifting in his seat to watch the ship pass by beneath them.

  "I'm just feeling useless, that's all."

  Sulu didn't contradict that observation, which didn't do much for the

  lieutenant's temperament. Chekov kept his back half-turned to the helm,

  calculating their speed without really meaning to b mentally clicking

  off the seconds between one exterior weld and the next. Then the edge

  of the primary hull etched a shattered arc through the darkness below

  them, and Chekov's hand formed a fist inside his sling. "I thought

  they'd be further along with the breach repair."

  "So did Mr. Scott. They're still tearing out the sections with

  concussion damage, though. He says she'll be warp ready by the time we

  get back."

  Engineers and equipment crawled along the edges of the breach like slow

  mites, trailing clean, new metal behind .them wherever they repaired.

  Chekov counted

  the number of dark portals on either side of the breach, and guessed

  that three living sectors were still without power. He wondered where

  Kirk would manage to bunk all those crew.

  "Speaking of getting back--" Sulu made some small adjustment to the

  readings on his panel. "You didn't really leave my lizards all alone,

  did you?"

  "No." Actually, he had. But he'd left them with a soap dish full of

  fish food from the bio lab, a bathtub full of clean water, and a sponge

  to play with. They'd probably be more comfortable than Chekov would for

  the next four days.

  "Thanks," Sulu said with a quick, automatic smile. He piloted a little

  longer, then asked, "How long has McCoy got you in that sling?"

  Chekov glanced back at Sulu, found the helmsman intent on his piloting,

  and turned back to the viewscreen. By then, the wounded Enterprise, had

  passed behiad,.them, out of sight. "Two weeks."

  "Did he have to do a lot of work on you?"<
br />
  "Apparently." Bone and muscle grafts at least, and something more

  complicated involving nerves that

  Chekov hadn't really wanted to hear the details of. "Will you ever be

  able to play piano again?"

  He slid Sulu a sidelong scowl, and the helmsman returned his glare with

  a look of counterfeit surprise. "Well?" Sulu challenged, laughing a

  little. "You've got to help me out here--It's kind of hard to have a

  conversation when all you're contributing is the impression that I'm

  interfering with your sulk."

  Chekov clenched his teeth against an unfairly sharp response when he

  heard Uhura come into the cockpit behind them. "Who's sulking?" she

  asked, with the innocent interest of someone not completely aware of

  what she'd walked into.

  Sulu jerked a terse nod at Cheko,. "Who else?" There was nothing like

  being ganged up on by your friends. Twisting as far as he could in his

  seat, Chekov tried to distract the conversation by leaning around Uhura

  and glaring back toward the passenger compartment. "Should we really

  leave Haslev alone?"

  She glanced reflexively behind her, but obviously wasn't concerned. "Why

  not?" A brilliant smile flashed across her dark features. "Maybe the

  saboteur will sneak in and kill him while nobody's looking."

 

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