Star Trek: The Original Series: The Rings of Time

by Greg Cox

  2020

  O’Herlihy flew through the ship, bouncing off the walls as he raced from the command module to check on the brig. His fist clenched a heavy steel wrench, the first weapon he had been able to lay his hands on. With luck, he wouldn’t need to use it—he had never been a violent man until today—but he had no idea what to expect. How had the prisoners managed to depressurize the airlock and open the outer hatch? And why in heaven’s name would they do such a thing?

  This wasn’t part of the plan, he thought. It makes no sense!

  Ghastly images of Shaun and Zoe being flushed out into the vacuum tortured his fevered mind. Perspiration beaded on his face, and he wanted to scream in frustration. This was the last thing he needed right now. The ship was spiraling in toward Saturn; he needed to make the most of what little time he had left to transmit their final discoveries back to Earth. Indeed, he had been so caught up in this vital work that he almost overlooked the fact that the cargo-bay airlock had been activated. Nobody had responded when he had paged the brig via the comm, which only increased his anxiety. He had been tempted to ignore the situation, since they were all destined to perish anyway, but nagging questions and doubts had driven him to find out what had happened to Shaun and Zoe, even at the expense of losing precious minutes of scientific exploration. Something wasn’t right. He could feel it in his bones.

  If they’ve done something to endanger Tera . . .

  Passing through the hab, he reached the airlock in a matter of minutes. The indicator light above the hatch was out, and he noticed that an adjacent bulkhead appeared slightly warped, possibly as a result of the ship’s jarring collisions with ring matter. Had the impact somehow activated the airlock, killing the prisoners? That seemed unlikely, but part of him almost hoped that was the case. Shaun and Zoe would have died quickly, getting it over with.

  An appalling possibility occurred to him. Could the prisoners have chosen to take their own lives, rather than prolong their final hours? Or had they accidentally killed themselves in some desperate, panicky attempt to escape? That didn’t sound like Shaun, but then again, Shaun wasn’t exactly himself anymore. Who knew what he was capable of now?

  An empty blue jumpsuit was draped over the hatchway window like a curtain, blocking his view of the airlock’s interior. Frantic for answers, he pounded on the hatch with the wrench.

  “Hello? Is anybody in there?”

  He had sealed and repressurized the airlock from command before heading there. He tried to open the hatch, but it refused to budge. The locking mechanism would not disengage. He banged on the hatch again.

  “Are you still there? What have you done?”

  A delicate hand drew back the curtain. Zoe’s face, upside-down, smirked at him through the porthole. She appeared to be wearing a skintight elastic cooling suit.

  “Hey there!” she shouted at him through the hatch. “What’s up, Doc?”

  He didn’t know whether to be relieved or concerned that she was still alive.

  At least she’s still locked up, he thought. “I want answers! What happened here?”

  “What’s that again?” She cupped a hand over her ear in a transparent attempt to feign that she couldn’t quite hear him. “Would you mind speaking louder?”

  “What happened?” he hollered. “Is Shaun still with you?”

  “Jeez, Doc! There’s no need to shout.”

  For God’s sake! He didn’t have time to play games like this. Fuming, he activated the comm instead. “I know you opened the airlock to the outside!” he ranted. “What were you thinking?”

  “Would you believe it was getting a bit stuffy in here?” She tugged at the collar of the cooling suit. “Not to mention chilly. You wouldn’t believe how damp and clammy this place gets after a while. Not exactly the luxury suite, you know.”

  Her flippancy infuriated him. “Stop it! Can’t you be serious for once in your life?” He tried to peer past her, but her inverted face filled the porthole, obstructing his view. “Where is Shaun? Let me talk to him!”

  “Oh, it’s ‘Shaun’ again, is it?” Her fingers formed air quotes. “I thought you and Fontana had decided that he was possessed by space ghosts or something. You forget about that part?”

  “Shaun, the probe, amnesia . . . whatever!” He threw up his hands, unable to believe that she was actually wasting their last few hours like this. “Is he in there? Did he survive?”

  “What do you care?” she shot back. “We’re all supposed to die anyway, right, when we take our one-way plunge into Hurricane Saturn? What does it matter if ‘Shaun’ and I decided to air out this crummy cell first?” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Between you and me, it was starting to smell like a gym locker.”

  “Cut the comedy routine!” he demanded, as though dressing down a class clown back at the university. “How did you even get the hatch open? That should have been impossible!”

  “You ever get tired of saying that, Doc?” she replied. “You’d think you would have figured out by now that anything is possible in this crazy universe. Just ask that weirdo hexagon down there.”

  “Just answer the question!”

  “Say, how is my BFF Fontana doing? She still sleeping it off? Granted, there’s a woman who really needed to unwind a bit, but slipping her a roofie seems a bit extreme.”

  She’s stalling, he realized. But why? What is she hiding?

  A worrisome possibility came together in his mind. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. There had been two spacesuits stored in the airlock, after all.

  “Where is Shaun? Let me see him . . . if he’s still there.”

  She shook her head upside-down. “The astronaut formerly known as Colonel Shaun Christopher is not available right now, but if you like, I can take a message.”

  I was right, he realized. She’s ducking my questions.

  His dire suspicions crystallized into certainty. Shaun wasn’t in the brig with her. He had exited the airlock in the other suit. He was spacewalking, and there was only one place he could be going.

  The command module.

  “Blast you, Shaun,” he murmured. “Why couldn’t you just let me finish this?”

  There was no time to lose. Like a swimmer reversing direction at the end of a lane, he somersaulted in the air and set off back the way he’d come.

  “Wait! Where are you going?” Zoe hollered. “Come back!”

  He ignored her. She didn’t matter now. He needed to get back to command—before Shaun ruined everything!

  Kirk was anxious to get out of his spacesuit. Stuck in the docking ring, he waited impatiently for the airlock to finish repressurizing so he could enter the command module. He remained on the lookout for O’Herlihy, whose whereabouts remained unknown. Kirk suspected that the desperate scientist would not surrender without a fight.

  What I wouldn’t give for a phaser right now.

  To his dismay, he spotted O’Herlihy in the vestibule on the other side of the module. Their eyes met across the charred remains of the mid-deck. O’Herlihy lunged from the vestibule, racing to seal the airlock before Kirk could emerge. Kirk’s ears popped as he felt the air pressure rise within the compartment. A gauge reported that the pressure was almost normal.

  Just another second . . .

  The indicator turned green, and the hatch slid open. Kirk burst from the airlock to confront the other man. He unscrewed his helmet and tossed it aside.

  “That’s enough, Doctor. It’s over.”

  “Don’t try to stop me, Shaun . . . or whoever you are.” O’Herlihy brandished a large metal wrench. “I won’t let you!”

  They circled each other warily, propelling themselves by handrails and gentle shoves. Kirk assessed his chances. He could handle himself in a fight, as everyone from Khan to Klingons had found out in his own time, but zero gravity complicated matters. It was going to be tricky to throw punches and kicks in this environment, and his zero-g combat training was years in the past and in a much younger body. He needed to think
this one out instead of just wading in with his fists.

  “Please, Shaun!” the doctor begged. “I don’t want to fight you. Just let me save my daughter!”

  “I’m sorry, Marcus. You know I can’t let you do that.”

  O’Herlihy was fighting for his child’s life, as he saw it, which made him a dangerous opponent, plus he had the advantage of a weapon. Weightless or not, that wrench could still do serious damage if it connected. Kirk started to regret taking off his space helmet.

  He glanced around for something to even the odds. Zoe’s slender tablet was still strapped to his wrist, but it wouldn’t be much use in a fight. His gaze fell on a fire extinguisher taped to a melted lab counter. Outside of a phaser, the sturdy metal cylinder was just what he needed. Pushing off from a warped steel cabinet, he flew for the canister.

  “Leave that alone!” O’Herlihy saw what Kirk was up to and frantically tried to stop him. He hurled the wrench at Kirk’s head. The sturdy tool spun through the air between them. Kirk ducked and heard it clang against a bulkhead. Executing a barrel roll above the counter, he yanked the fire extinguisher free and rotated to face O’Herlihy, who was diving at him with a murderous expression on his face. Kirk fumbled with the trigger.

  Foam sprayed from the nozzle. The blast struck O’Herlihy, driving him back, while simultaneously propelling Kirk in the opposite direction. Kirk grunted in pain as his back, already bruised from being tossed about the brig earlier, smacked into a wall. The padded spacesuit cushioned the blow to a degree, but it still smarted. He eased up on the fire extinguisher to keep from caroming around the deck.

  “Stop it, Marcus! You don’t want to do this!”

  “It doesn’t matter what I want!” O’Herlihy sputtered through a mouthful of foam. The frothy mixture coated his face and front, making him look like a survivor of a coolant explosion. He wiped it from his eyes. “I’ll do whatever it takes to save my daughter!”

  He grabbed the hatchway ladder to halt his flight. Choosing the better part of valor, he scrambled up through the open hatch, disappearing from sight.

  Not so fast, Kirk thought. He couldn’t give O’Herlihy the chance to lock him out of the flight deck above. Using the fire extinguisher as a makeshift thruster, he rocketed through the hatchway after his quarry. Drifting foam splattered against his face as he blasted up into the flight deck, past Fontana, who was still floating unconscious by the top of the ladder. Duct tape bound her wrists to an upper rung, while her legs floated free. She stirred restlessly.

  But where was O’Herlihy? Kirk had lost sight of his foe. Killing the fire extinguisher, he looked about for the other man. “Marcus?”

  A metal meal tray smashed Kirk in the face, knocking him across the deck. The fire extinguisher slipped from his fingers. He tasted blood. Glistening crimson beads sprayed into the air, dispersing weightlessly through the atmosphere. He tumbled backward, dazed by the blow. The fire extinguisher banged into a bulkhead several meters away. Kirk felt as if he had just been slapped across the face by a Gorn. He spit out a tooth.

  The ruckus roused Fontana, whose eyes fluttered open. A floating bead splattered against her cheek. She gazed about groggily. “Shaun?”

  O’Herlihy tossed away the tray. Before Kirk could recover from the blow, he bounded over to the helm and hastily worked the controls. Not bothering to strap himself into the pilot’s seat, he keyed new commands into the ship’s computer.

  “Wait!” Fontana said, coming to. “What are you doing? Get away from there!”

  “You can’t stop me!” His fingers jabbed at the instrument panel. “I have to save Tera!”

  Even if it meant sending the Lewis & Clark on a suicide mission into the heart of a gas giant.

  The thrusters ignited. A burst of acceleration tossed Kirk back against a bulkhead. Fontana was tossed about the ladder like a flag flapping in the wind. Saturn’s turbulent atmosphere filled the windows of the cockpit, growing larger and clearer by the moment. Kirk could make out the planet’s sulfurous yellow bands in alarming detail. Lightning flashed across storms the size of continents. The ship plowed through the inner rings.

  “Shaun!” Fontana tugged at her bonds, fully awake now. “Stop him! He’s changing our orbit, sending us into the planet!”

  So much for the scenic route, Kirk thought. O’Herlihy had evidently given up on his plan to drag out the ship’s final orbits long enough to make more observations of Saturn and its rings. Cutting to the chase, the crazed scientist and father was taking them on a downward trajectory straight into Saturn. The thrusters continued to fire, accelerating the ship. Kirk guessed that they had only minutes before the ship entered the atmosphere.

  No, Kirk thought. This has gone far enough.

  A crimson haze literally floated before his eyes. Shaking the cobwebs from his brain, he swept the drifting globules aside and tackled O’Herlihy at the helm. The doctor’s face slammed into the instrument panel, and Kirk yanked the other man’s hands away from the controls. Kicking against the console, he sent them both tumbling away from the helm.

  “Let go of me!” O’Herlihy raged. “You’re going to get Tera killed!”

  Kirk disagreed. “Nobody’s dying today, Marcus. Least of all us.”

  The two men grappled in midair, much as Kirk and Zoe had earlier, but much less enjoyably. O’Herlihy elbowed Kirk in the gut, but the captain’s spacesuit shielded him from the blow; it was like wearing a heavily padded suit of body armor. Twisting around, O’Herlihy grabbed Kirk’s throat and squeezed. His nails dug into Kirk’s neck. Crimson bubbles percolated from his nose.

  “Have you forgotten your oath, Doctor?” Kirk wheezed. He’d been choked once today already, and he’d had enough. “First, do no harm . . .”

  He butted his head into O’Herlihy’s bloody face. The scientist shrieked as his busted nose took another hit. More weightless red bubbles contaminated the air, joining drifting flecks of foam. Pushing down on O’Herlihy’s shoulders, Kirk swung his legs up and kicked the other man squarely in the chest with his sturdy space boots. The force of the kick sent the scientist flying backward—toward Fontana.

  She snagged him with her legs, wrapping them around his neck. “Hurry!” she shouted at Kirk. “Finish this!”

  “Let go of me!” O’Herlihy struggled to extricate himself. “You don’t understand what you’re doing!”

  Kirk bounced off a wall, launching himself at the trapped scientist like a missile. His right fist collided with the man’s jaw. The thick white glove felt like a boxing glove, protecting his knuckles. O’Herlihy’s head snapped backward, then swayed atop his neck. Frantic eyes rolled upward until only the blood-streaked whites were visible. He went limp.

  Kirk had scored a knockout.

  “Sorry about that, Doctor, but I left my phaser at home.”

  Fontana gave him a quizzical look. “Okay, consider me impressed, whoever you are.” She let go of the unconscious scientist and nodded at her bound wrists. “I’d give you a round of applause, but I’m a little tied up.”

  “Let me do something about that.”

  The captain briefly wondered if it was a good idea to release her, since she was the one who had tossed him into the brig in the first place, after nearly choking the life out of him earlier, but he judged that circum-stances had changed. After O’Herlihy’s rampage, there was no longer any question who the real saboteur was, and Kirk guessed that he was going to need Fontana’s help to undo what the doctor had done and save the ship.

  He hastily tore away the tape. “Don’t make me regret this.”

  “Not yet,” she promised, massaging her wrists. “I think we’ve got bigger problems.”

  The thrusters flared at full power, recklessly burning through their fuel. No wonder the ship had been orbiting Saturn quickly enough to keep hitting the rings; never intending to make a return trip to Earth, O’Herlihy had felt free to expend all of their fuel on one final death spiral.

  Fontana raced Kirk to the cockpit. She f
ired the braking thrusters.

  “It’s too late!” she shouted. “We worked up too much speed. We’re caught in the gravity well.” She strapped herself in. “Brace yourself! We’re going in!”

  Twenty-seven

  2020

  They entered Saturn.

  Descending toward the planet, the Lewis & Clark skimmed the gas giant’s upper atmosphere. Icy wisps of crystallized sulfur and ammonia blew past the cockpit windows as the ship bounced violently off the dense cloud banks below. Freezing winds buffeted the ship, fighting a losing battle against the heat of friction and causing the flight deck to spin on its axis like a carnival ride. Kirk strapped himself into the pilot’s seat to keep from being tossed about the compartment. The hull began to creak alarmingly as the heat and pressure mounted outside. The temperature inside the cockpit climbed toward the hellish. Warning lights flashed all over the instrument panels. Alarms blared. The ship’s outer plating had been built to withstand the unpredictable hazards of a six-month voyage far from home, but Kirk knew that the ship couldn’t go much deeper into the atmosphere without burning up. It was a race to see what killed them first—the pressure, the storms, or the heat.

  Kirk wanted to call down to Engineering, to tell Scotty to divert all available power to the shields. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option.

  “What about Querez?” Fontana shouted over the chaos. The bumpy ride rattled her voice, giving it more than a touch of vibrato. Sweat poured down her face. “Where is she?”

  “The airlock. Safe, last time I saw her.”

  But for how much longer?

  He let Fontana pilot the ship. She had more experience with this generation of vessel. He unhooked his clumsy gloves and tossed them aside. “Can you get us out of here?”

  “I’m trying! But it’s no use. I’m hitting the brakes for all they’re worth, but the thrusters are running out of fuel. We can’t achieve escape velocity!”

  “There has to be some way to break free!” Kirk said. Saturn’s tempestuous atmosphere descended for nearly a hundred thousand kilometers, but at this rate, the Lewis & Clark would burn up like a shooting star long before they reached the boiling seas of liquid hydrogen and helium far beneath the raging storms, let alone the planet’s molten core. “We just need more power.”