Errand of Fury Book 1

by Kevin Ryan

  All of that took barely seconds. Does the captain know? And where’s the red alert? he thought. Then he saw a telltale flash outside the window. The shields were being raised. A split second later, two things happened virtually simultaneously. Red alert sounded, and the nose of the lead Klingon vessel lit up.

  What happened next happened very quickly. Fuller saw the torpedo emerge from the Klingon ship. He did another quick calculation, trying to figure the range, the speed of the torpedo, and the time it would take the Endeavour’s shields to fully deploy. In the end, there was no time to finish the mental calculation.

  And no need.

  Fuller saw a flare as the torpedo tore through the ship’s emerging shields and continued, unaffected, straight for the Endeavour. Fuller had an instant to think, The ship is going to get hit. Then he realized that the torpedo was heading straight for him and the others in the dining room. Instinctively, he started to duck. Before he could finish the movement, there was a blinding flash outside the window as the deck shook under his feet.

  They’ve hit us, he thought. The torpedo had missed the dining room, but it had come close. In fact, a loud hiss of air told him that the dining room would not be safe for long. “Everybody out, we’re decompressing,” he said. Fuller could see that the bulkhead had buckled slightly near the ceiling. “Engineering,” he said to Andrews, who nodded. Fuller scanned the room quickly to make sure that everyone was on their feet.

  “Move!” he shouted, then he and Andrews headed for the door and were out in the corridor, which was filled with people racing for their stations. The turbolifts would be packed, if they were even working. Andrews turned and grabbed the nearest ladder and started climbing up. Fuller immediately smelled smoke.

  Fuller passed the deck above him quickly. The smoke got thicker as he neared the engineering deck. And the smell wasn’t just smoke. There was coolant in there and other things he couldn’t identify but knew couldn’t be good for the ship. They were in serious trouble.

  Stepping onto the engineering deck, Fuller saw that the Endeavour was indeed in trouble. Emergency lighting made the deck dim, but Fuller could see well enough. Bulkheads and flooring were bent and twisted in a number of places. And power was flashing and arcing from open panels and conduits. There were at least four dead people on the deck, their bodies burned severely—and in one case beyond recognition.

  He noticed then that an emergency bulkhead had closed off access to the port nacelle. Emergency bulkheads were made of thick alloys that were supposed to be nearly indestructible. This one was bent and battered, more than Fuller had thought possible. There was also a telltale hiss that told Fuller that the engineering deck was slowly decompressing.

  There should have been chaos on the deck, but the uninjured members of the engineering staff were staffing their posts with a calm that Fuller would not have thought possible. He was surprised to see that his own mind was working with an analytical detachment that meant he would also be able to function.

  “Oh my God…oh my God,” Andrews said beside him, his voice cracking.

  Fuller put a hand on his friend’s shoulder and pulled him toward Woods, who was manning one of the stations with a female lieutenant whom Fuller didn’t recognize. “Sir, reporting for duty. What can we do to help?”

  Woods merely raised a hand to silence him.

  “Michael, that can’t be right,” Andrews said, pointing to the viewscreen above the engineering station in front of them. Fuller looked up and saw a view of the rear of the ship from the point of view of the rear of the saucer section. The view clearly showed the starboard nacelle…and a gaping hole where the port nacelle should have been.

  “It’s gone,” Fuller said. It was true, though it should have been impossible. “That’s where the torpedo hit us.” Fuller was surprised by the calm in his own voice.

  We should have been inside that nacelle, he thought, feeling a surge of guilt. He and Andrews had left their post for a frivolous reason. And that’s the only reason we’re alive.

  “But, Michael, if the nacelle’s gone, how can the ship still be here?” Andrews said.

  It was a good question. There were alarms going on at every functioning station on the deck. It was a miracle that the warp core had not immediately been breached. No, not a miracle, it’s people doing their jobs, Fuller thought, watching Woods’s hands work the panel in front of him.

  “We have communications,” the woman next to Woods said.

  “Bridge to engineering. Status?” Captain Shannon’s voice said, his tone calm.

  “The port nacelle has been severed; we’re minutes away from a warp core breach,” Woods said, equally calmly.

  “We’re showing that the main energizer is still online.”

  “Yes, you’ll have limited shields and weapons right until the end,” Woods said. “I recommend you prepare to separate the main hull. I can buy you some time if a few of us stay with the equipment.”

  There was silence on the intercom and from everyone within earshot. Woods was proposing buying the ship a few more minutes by staying behind in the doomed engineering hull.

  “Thank you, Commander, and thank your people,” the captain’s voice said. “I’m authorizing you to trigger the saucer separation from your position. Give us as much time as you can to move everyone we can to the main hull.”

  For a moment, Fuller couldn’t believe his ears. Separating the saucer section from the engineering section was a desperate move, one a captain would make only when his ship was already dead.

  Like we are…

  “Yes, sir,” Woods said evenly, then the deck underneath all of them shook as the ship took weapons fire from somewhere. Fuller was mildly surprised when nothing exploded.

  No, that will come in five or six minutes, he realized. And it will be big.

  “Derek…good work,” the captain said. “I want you to know that it’s not over.”

  “No, sir,” Woods said.

  “Bridge out.”

  Woods immediately turned to the crew behind him and said. “There are two Klingon battle cruisers out there and the warp core will breach in a few minutes. We can give the captain a few more minutes of power to keep up the fight if we continue our work here. A few more minutes or even seconds of power might mean the difference in this battle. I need a few of you to stay behind. Volunteers only.”

  There was a chorus of offers from everyone on the deck. Woods nodded and something moved on his face. “I want the injured out of here immediately.”

  There were a few protests from some of the barely standing and barely conscious crew members. “No argument,” Woods said.

  “What can we do, sir?” Andrews said.

  Woods looked at Fuller and Andrews for a moment and said, “You can get the hell out of my engine room.” He raised a hand to stop any protest. “You can’t do any good here. The injured need help, and the captain will need all his security people in the main hull.”

  “Yes, sir,” Fuller said.

  Before they turned to go, Woods said, “Whatever happens, don’t let the Klingons take you alive.” Fuller nodded. He had heard stories, ones that he hadn’t completely believed. Looking at Woods’s face, he realized that all of those stories had been true.

  Fuller took one look at the engineers at their posts and felt shamed by what they were about to do, because whether the captain managed a victory or not, it would be all over for these people in less than ten minutes. Nevertheless, they were calmly going about their work, sacrificing everything so that the rest of the crew would have a chance.

  Another blast struck the ship and reminded Fuller just how thin the Endeavour’s chances were against two fully functional Klingon warships.

  “All nonessential crew to the saucer section. Emergency saucer separation imminent,” the communications officer’s voice sounded through the intercom. There were two people lying on the ground, one man and one woman. Fuller had seen them around the ship but didn’t know their names. The four
ambulatory wounded hovered over them, not leaving.

  “We’ve got them, get out of here,” Fuller said. The four crew members looked unsure. They were clearly unwilling to leave their friends.

  “Do it now,” Andrews said, his voice booming. They immediately turned and headed for the door. Andrews quickly examined the unconscious man on the floor; he was severely burned on the right side of his body. Without hesitating, Andrews leaned down and put the man over his shoulder. Though the injured man was easily one hundred and eighty pounds, Andrews lifted him with little trouble.

  Fuller saw that the woman who remained on the floor had a burn on her right leg. “I think they’re both broken,” she said, a trace of embarrassment in her voice as she pointed to her legs.

  “It’s okay, I’m Michael Fuller and I’m going to help you.”

  She nodded, clearly in serious pain and said, “Lieutenant Caruso, Eileen Caruso.”

  As gently as he could, he leaned down and picked her up. For a moment, he was glad that Andrews had lifted the man. Fuller didn’t have his friend’s bulk. Caruso was maybe one hundred and twenty-five pounds and felt light in his arms. She groaned in pain as Fuller put her in position over his shoulders.

  Andrews had waited for him and was at the door when Fuller reached it. The large double doors opened—for which Fuller said a silent prayer of thanks—and he headed out into the corridor. Walking a few steps ahead, Andrews reached the turbolift first. He turned back and said, “It’s out.”

  They continued forward. There was another lift far forward on the deck, where the engineering hull met the connecting dorsal that led to the main hull. If that lift was out, that meant they would have to take ladders. Fuller did not want to think about how they would do that with two injured people on their backs.

  Andrews was still in the lead. Fuller saw him take one large hand and smack the turbolift control panel in frustration. There was no doubt, this one was out as well. Rushing ahead, Fuller said, “I’m going to have to put you down.” Then he reached the ladder well next to the turbolift and put her down. As he moved, his mind kept track of the passing time.

  Less than a minute had passed since they received their order to go from Woods. At best, they had maybe four minutes left. It wouldn’t be enough for what he had planned, but he wasn’t leaving anyone behind. He scrambled up the ladder and said to Andrews, “Lift him as high as you can, I’ll pull him up.”

  Then he was sitting on the next deck and reaching down with both hands. Andrews was more than two meters tall, which put the injured man at about just under that off the ground now. With a little over three meters separating the decks, the man was just out of Fuller’s reach.

  Then he heard Andrews straining and saw him lift the man, who rose the precious centimeters up. Then Fuller was able to reach under his arms and pull. The engineer weighed just a bit more than Fuller himself, and for a moment he didn’t know how he was going to perform the lift from a sitting position. Then he felt Andrews pushing from below.

  The injured man rose and Fuller was able to pull him to the deck. His instinct was to check the man’s pulse, but there was no time. Andrews was already lifting Caruso. Fuller grabbed her under the arms and lifted her as gently as he could. Unfortunately, there was no way to keep her legs from hitting the deck as he lifted. She groaned through gritted teeth. When she was lying on the deck, she breathed in large gasps.

  Then Andrews was on the deck with them. Fuller looked into the ladder well to the next deck up. He shot Andrews a glance, and his friend merely nodded. They would make their best effort to get the two injured people up the three levels to the primary hull. They would almost certainly fail, but they would try and they would not leave anyone behind. Andrews picked up his man and Fuller headed for the ladder.

  “Wait,” a thin voice said behind him. Fuller looked at Caruso, who was gesturing to the turbolift door. “Try the lift,” she said. Fuller nodded and raced for it. To his surprise it opened, and there was light inside. That meant there was power and that meant they had a chance. Caruso had just saved their lives.

  The deck moved underneath his feet, telling him that the captain was using high-speed impulse maneuvers. Like much of what had happened since they had first been hit, it should have been impossible. He realized that he had not felt many weapons hits on the ship since that initial blast, and he understood why: the Klingons knew they had dealt the Endeavour a fatal blow and were just biding their time until the ship exploded.

  Picking up Caruso, he headed into the lift. “Deck four,” he said. The turbolift didn’t move, so he hit a button on the panel. Immediately, the lift began moving up. It started up, went a few feet…and then stopped dead. For a moment, the small space went completely dark, then the dim emergency lights went on.

  Andrews was frantically hitting the manual control panel. They were still in the dorsal that connected the two hulls of the ship. And in two minutes, maybe three, Woods would separate the circular main hull from the rest of the ship. Fuller, Andrews, and the two injured people would be stuck in the dorsal, which would still be attached to the engineering section. And then when the warp core went critical, they would all be dead.

  As dead as those people in engineering, he thought. Fuller’s mind rebelled against the thought, not because he was afraid of his own death but because he wanted to contribute something to this mess of a mission—something to justify some small part of the sacrifice that the engineering staff was making. Fuller couldn’t do that trapped here until the final blast came. His only chance to make a difference was in the saucer section, which was less than twenty-five feet away, but in their current circumstance may as well have been in another galaxy.

  Andrews was still working the controls to no effect. Fuller put a hand on his. They had done their best. He was pleased that his friend Andrews had done well. It was a pity, he thought. He would have liked to see what kind of officer Andrews became in the long run.

  “It’s okay, we’re almost out of time,” Fuller said.

  “But, Michael…” Andrews said.

  Fuller smiled at him and said, “You did everything you could.”

  Understanding crossed Andrews’s face, then the beginning of acceptance. Fuller remembered something and winced.

  “What is it?” Andrews said.

  “I just realized that I never sent Alison that message,” Fuller said. Then he shrugged.

  Andrews put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure she knows how you feel.”

  Fuller shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. When she came by the shuttleport it was to tell me that she’s pregnant. We didn’t part well.”

  Surprise and then sympathy showed on Andrews’s face. He nodded and said, “I’m sorry, Michael.” Then Andrews turned and pounded once on the wall of the lift.

  Chapter Ten

  QO’NOS

  2267

  THE AMOUNT THE KLINGON in front of Karel had requested would have represented more than half a year’s pay as a junior weapons officer. Karel had haggled fiercely with his new and unsavory business partner, but he had disputed the amount only because accepting it too easily would have brought more attention to himself than was necessary. The fact was that he would have paid twice the amount.

  “Half now,” Karel said, “and half when the information is in my hands.”

  “Agreed,” the Klingon said, handing him a data spike. “This contains the necessary programs to allow you to decrypt the transmissions I will send you.”

  Karel nodded. “You had better send that information.”

  The Klingon looked at once wounded and angry. “Do not insult my honor as you rob me of any reasonable fee.”

  Karel studied the small, nondescript Klingon in front of him. This was no warrior. He looked exactly like what he was, an information clerk. And yet the Klingon was right: Karel should not doubt another Klingon’s honor unless that Klingon gave him reason to. Unfortunately, he had seen too much dishonor lately among his own people.
>
  Interestingly, this Klingon had used the term “honor” casually. Was he a follower of Kahless? Could a follower of Kahless walk the path of honor while trading in secrets and stolen truths? Well, Kell had walked that path wearing the face of a human, so anything was possible. And if this Klingon found the truths that Karel sought, he would go a long way toward helping rid the empire of a great stain on its honor.

  Nodding, Karel said, “You have my faith.”

  Then he turned and headed out of the dark alley that had been the location of their meeting. He took public transportation home, as he had taken it there. No one would be able to trace one of his family vehicles here if someone was watching.

  Walking the last leg of his journey, he saw Dev’ghot rising in the distance. Even Karel’s own guilt and shame over his brother’s death could not dispel all the pleasure of that sight. Here, he felt closest to the spirits of his father and brother.

  In the last few years, each time he saw the house, he wondered if that view would be the last. Had his brother had the same thought the last time he had seen the estate of the House of Gorkon?

  Karel was still several minutes away when he felt the transporter beam take him. He had a second to look at Dev’ghot before it faded before his eyes only to be replaced by the interior of the transporter room of the D’k Tahg. He shot the transporter room operator a look and said, “Explain yourself.”

  The Klingon looked nervous. “Captain’s orders, he wants you now. You did not have your communicator with you. I scanned your home until I found you.”

  That was fair enough. He had left his communicator behind so that no one could track his movements during his meeting. Now he saw that it had been a wise precaution. Still, he could not let the transporter operator know any of that, so he merely grunted at the Klingon and headed for the bridge.

  There, he found the bridge crew assembled and Koloth studying reports. The captain was unhappy, that much was obvious.