STAR TREK: The Original Series - The Last Roundup

by Christie Golden

  The mouth was several hundred meters wide and narrowed as it went further into the ground. Kirk could catch glimpses of the technology that Chekov’s tricorder had revealed. His eyes widened slightly. Lissan’s claim that they didn’t have the level of technology that the colonists possessed was clearly a lie of the most elaborate sort. At the end of the tunnel, there was no dirt or stone to be seen. All was metal and alloys, lights and gantries and lifts. Kirk caught a glimpse of similarly clad Falorians scurrying along corridors here and there, carrying padds and looking focused.

  Quickly they stepped down onto a gantry and pressed back against cold metal. Chekov was still reading the tricorder.

  “I’m detecting very little indication of weapons,” he said as Kirk continued to take their bearings. “This may be a research facility.”

  “Let’s find out what it is they’re researching.” It was clearly an enormous complex, and they were only two humans. With the security system disabled, luck ought to be with them. They hopped onto a lift and rode it down. Despite himself, Kirk felt his imagination stir at the sight of all the unfamiliar technology, much of it obviously new. It was probably just as well Scott wasn’t with them. The engineer might have fallen in love.

  [130] The lift clanged to a stop. The corridor was empty and they jumped off, ducking into a darkened room. Chekov glanced at the tricorder and nodded that all was clear. Phasers drawn, they proceeded down the corridor.

  “What are we looking for?” Chekov whispered.

  “We’ll know it when we see it,” Kirk hissed back. Even as he spoke the words, he wondered if they were true. What they were looking for was some reason why the Falorians had woven such an extensive web of lies. Why had they given up an entire planet to an alien race, with the only stipulation being a share in the technology the colony developed, when it was clear they had advanced technology themselves? Why had they erected a shield over nothing more dangerous than a research facility, and called it a “resupply base”? Why were they lying about jamming the colony’s frequencies, and why did they not want the colonists communicating with the outside world? What was a pirated Starfleet subspace relay system doing here, and how had they gotten a hold of it in the first place?

  Answers were what he and Chekov were looking for. He only hoped they would indeed know them when they saw them.

  Many of these rooms were storage facilities for equipment. And much of this equipment was Starfleet issue. It solved at least one problem. Kirk leaned over and whispered in Chekov’s ear, “The Orion Syndicate.”

  Chekov nodded. “Cossacks,” he muttered. Then, wordlessly, he hauled Kirk down behind a cabinet full of beakers of various shapes and sizes.

  “Lights,” came a voice. Footsteps passed them, [131] hesitated. They heard the clink of glass, then the footsteps moved away. “Lights off,” called the Falorian, and all was quiet again.

  The next room into which they ventured was obviously a laboratory. Kirk looked around, then spotted what he was searching for—access to a computer.

  “Start downloading anything you can,” he said. “I’ll look around.”

  Chekov nodded, and immediately began configuring the tricorder to link up with the computer.

  Kirk could have made a fair guess at navigating an alien bridge, but here in an alien laboratory, Kirk felt out of his element. Too bad Spock wasn’t here. He’d know what to make of this confusing jumble of equipment and—

  Notes.

  A padd lay tossed on the table next to a cup of something that had been poured and forgotten and was now growing some kind of mold. That in itself would be an interesting project, but Kirk was certain that was only an accidental side effect of too many hours spent in painstaking research. It was funny how similar scientists were, whatever their species. He picked up the padd, careful not to accidentally erase any information. Of course, it was all written in Falorian, but translation would be easy once they got back to the colony.

  “Captain, look at this,” Chekov said. He was glancing back and forth from his tricorder to the screen. Kirk looked up to see a graphic of various shapes parading across the screen.

  “What am I looking at?” Kirk asked, deferring to [132] Chekov’s greater familiarity with all things scientific.

  “I’m not certain, of course, but I’ve got a general idea of the focus of their research. At least one focus. Nanotechnology.”

  Kirk watched, fascinated, as what he now realized were infinitesimally tiny machines marched about their business. “That covers a lot of ground,” he said. “What are the nanotechs doing? Is the focus on medicine, repair, what?”

  “They’re not repairing anything,” said Chekov. “I don’t have enough information yet, but my guess is they’re going to be used as some kind of weapon.”

  Kirk’s stomach clenched. “I want you to go to the deepest level of information they have in the computer,” he said.

  “That could take time.”

  “If they’re formulating a weapon, then the clock’s ticking already, Mr. Chekov.”

  “Aye, sir.” He hesitated. “So far, I’ve only downloaded basic information. If I try to break into their encrypted files, I could alert someone to our presence.”

  “That’s a risk we have to take. We must know what they’re planning.”

  Chekov bit his lower lip. This wasn’t his area of expertise, but he was still more familiar with something like this than Kirk would be. With clear reluctance, he sat down and began to try to bypass the security system around the computer.

  Kirk’s mind was racing. Everything was starting to make at least some kind of sense now. He looked down at his tricorder. This complex was enormous and [133] extended for several hundred meters into the earth. It wasn’t anything new, nor was it anything that had been abandoned long ago and recently reoccupied. The Falorians had to have been working on getting it up and running for some time now. How could Alex not have known about this?

  The answer came to him almost immediately, but it was an answer that he almost would rather not have had.

  Julius.

  Julius had always been the liaison to the Falorians. It wasn’t inconceivable that he had known what was going on from the very beginning, and had conspired with them to conceal evidence of this mammoth facility from any scans and reports.

  Kirk’s mind went back to that middle of the night conversation when Alexander and Julius had first shown up on his doorstep. How long ago it all seemed now. It’s all thanks to Julius, Alex had said. He’s been amazing ... he’s been the one out there talking to all kinds of alien races to find us our Sanctuary. And Julius’s own words: You have no idea what we’ve been through the last few years, Uncle Jim ... the crawling through mud and getting sick and being literally scared for my life half the time that I’ve done to get this thing to fly.

  He thought of the Starfleet technology generously peppered through the complex. Oh, Julius. I think I do know what you’ve been through ... and what you’ve done.

  “I’ve done as much as I dare do,” said Chekov, breaking into Kirk’s thoughts.

  [134] “Good job. We’ve got one more stop on this pleasant little tour of the resupply station.”

  According to the tricorder readings there was an enormous cavern at the very bottom of the facility. They had seen dozens of labs, conference rooms and storage rooms, but nothing like this.

  Kirk had to shake his head at how easy this all was. The shield and the system Scott had so easily cracked had lulled the Falorians into a false sense of security. Doors hissed open as readily for them as for the aliens, and after taking a long ride down on a lift, they stepped into what was clearly the heart of the complex.

  Like everything they had seen thus far, this cavern was entirely Falorian-made. There was no glimpse of stone walls or dirt anywhere. Every wall was lined with panels, monitors (most of which, Kirk noticed appreciatively, were blank), switches, buttons, and blinking lights of every variety.

  “We’re in a control center,
” Chekov breathed, awe in his voice. “A very, very big control center.”

  Kirk had moved forward and was now looking at some of the images on the screens. Most of them were of places he didn’t recognize.

  But there was one he did, and his heart began to pound fiercely in his chest.

  He was looking straight into the formal reception hall of Starfleet’s headquarters in San Francisco.

  Chapter Twelve

  “THAT’S ...” Chekov’s voice trailed off as he stepped beside Kirk and looked at the banquet hall.

  “Yes,” Kirk said grimly. “My friend Admiral Standing Crane told me that the Falorians were very curious people. They wanted to visit every starbase and member planet, tour every ship. And they were so pleasant, so charming about it that no one suspected anything. Not even Standing Crane, who’s as sharp as they come. Whatever the Falorians are planning, there’s a good chance it’s going to affect the entire Federation.” He nodded to one of the enormous consoles, and Chekov hastened up to it.

  He touched the tricorder, and then frowned, “They have a heavy encryption on the data here, much more than they had in the labs.”

  Kirk knew what he was saying. Chekov had been able to break into the computer system fairly easily. It would be harder now, and every minute they lingered here meant a greater chance of discovery. Also, the [136] deeper encryption clearly guarded information of greater import. Chekov wasn’t an expert at this, and an attempt to access the information could trip some kind of security system.

  “Continue, Mr. Chekov.”

  Chekov’s eyes searched his for a moment, and then he nodded. He turned, took a breath, and touched the computer. His fingers flew over a few soft pads, and then the tricorder began to hum.

  “It’s work—”

  A shrill alarm cut him off. And at the same time, he snatched his hands back with a cry of pain. His fingers were blackened and smoking. White bone peeked through. Kirk swore. He rushed forward and grabbed Chekov’s tricorder and phaser.

  “Let’s go,” he cried. They rushed back up the way they had come. Kirk heard Chekov trying and failing to stifle the occasional whimper of pain and he cursed himself. He knew that breaking into secure systems could be dangerous. Why hadn’t he been the one to take the risks? Why had he put Pavel in jeopardy?

  As they raced for the nearest lift Kirk heard a clatter of booted feet echo down the hallway. He looked around and saw metal rungs extending up as far as the eye could see. Despite Scott’s efforts, Kirk had managed to trip the security system, and he knew that all the lifts would be shut down now. There was only one way out.

  He glanced over at Chekov. The younger man’s handsome face was twisted in a grimace of agony. His fingers were now black and swollen. Blood and pus crested and broke through the burned flesh.

  [137] “Can you climb?” Kirk asked.

  Chekov forced a smile. “Do I have a choice?”

  Despite the direness of the situation, Kirk smiled. “I don’t think so. Go on. You first.”

  “But I’ll slow us down—”

  “That’s an order, Mister,” snapped Kirk. Chekov nodded, and set his teeth against the pain as he began to climb, slowly and in obvious agony.

  Kirk followed, glancing down. Below him he saw a handful of guards come running into the corridor and into the chamber Kirk and Chekov had just vacated. It was huge and there were a number of places people could hide. With luck, that would keep them busy for a while.

  They kept climbing. Chekov was deathly silent, but as he followed him, Kirk could feel the smear of fluid on each metal rung. Chekov began to breathe heavily. He alternated hands and tried to use his lower arms instead of grasping the rungs directly. Kirk looked up. They still had such a long way to go.

  “You can do it, Pavel,” he said, softly and urgently. “One rung at a time.”

  “Captain,” gasped Chekov raggedly, “You should leave me behind. There’s no point in both of us getting captured.”

  “I won’t leave you. Keep going.”

  It seemed to take an eternity to get to the next level. Kirk ducked his head into the corridor and pulled back quickly. Guards. He touched Chekov on the leg to silently signal that he needed to keep going. After the briefest pause, Chekov gamely continued. Kirk wished that he [138] could help Pavel, but he could do nothing except let him set the pace and be below him on the ladder to catch him in case he slipped.

  Kirk didn’t know how long it took, but they made their slow, agonizing way up ladder after ladder. When they could, they ducked into corridors and labs to catch their breath and give Chekov a respite, albeit a brief one, from the pain. If only the lifts hadn’t been shut down! At the very least, they seemed able to avoid capture.

  Finally, Kirk saw that they were close to the top. There were only two or three more ladders to climb. He checked the tricorder. All seemed clear in the nearest corridor, and he silently signaled Chekov that they should take a break. Before they could scramble over the lip and head to freedom, they had to get the shield down.

  He leaned back, thinking. Next to him, he heard Pavel hissing softly through his teeth as he stretched his damaged hands out in. front, keeping them as still as possible. Where would be the best place for security posts? In the center area, of course, since it appeared that the control room was the most sensitive area. And right near the top, to prevent exactly what he and Chekov had managed to do.

  He checked the tricorder and nodded as it confirmed his logic. The top floor, which ran the circumference of the tunnel, was filled with weapons, technology, and Falorians.

  “Here’s the plan,” he told Chekov.

  Once Chekov was in position, Kirk stepped close to the edge of the corridor, aimed at a piece of equipment [139] several meters below, and got off a single, rapid shot. At once he heard a commotion. Had anyone been watching, they would have seen the direction from which the phaser had been fired and could easily have traced him, but as it was, they didn’t realize what had happened until it was too late and now congregated around the smoking, blasted piece of equipment.

  While their attention was diverted, Kirk sprang onto the nearest ladder, scaled it swiftly, and ducked into the first security room he came to. He surprised a guard, who lifted a weapon in one hand even as he reached for an intercom button with another, but Kirk was faster. He fired and the guard crumpled. Kirk whirled and fired again, taking out two more guards. He leapt over the bodies and scanned the equipment.

  Damn it, he had no idea what he was looking for. He’d relied on Chekov to do that. His pulse racing, Kirk examined alien lettering and various colored buttons. Pulsing lights in red, yellow, orange, indigo, and—

  Blue. The same pale blue as the shield. Would it be that simple, that obvious? Kirk thought about the over-confidence the Falorians had, how easily their systems had been disabled, and decided that the gamble was worth it. He flipped open his communicator.

  “I’m in. I’m going to press a button, Chekov. Let me know what happens.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Kirk pressed the blue button.

  “It’s down!” came Chekov’s excited voice.

  “I’m right behind you,” Kirk said. He snapped the [140] communicator closed and headed for the ladder.

  But now he was spotted, and he heard shouts. A directed energy weapon blast struck inches from his head. A few centimeters above him was the lip of the tunnel and—

  Kirk almost lost his grip as a booted foot kicked him in the face. Gray and white swirled in front of his eyes, but he refused to lose consciousness. He reached up in the gray swirl, grasped the leg attached to the boot that had kicked him, and pulled. Screaming, the Falorian hurtled down into the depths.

  Bleeding from a broken nose, Kirk pulled himself over the lip of the tunnel. The shield was still down, and the stars arched above the complex. Their calm, cold twinkling was strangely incongruous to Kirk. He got to his feet and took off running.

  He demate
rialized in mid-stride.

  Kirk treated his own and Chekov’s more serious injuries with the medikit on board the Drake, filling Scotty in on what had transpired.

  “I can’t believe getting the shield down would be that easy,” Kirk said. “You were right, Scotty—the Falorian security system is amazingly lax. Push a blue button, a blue shield comes down.”

  “Um,” said Scott, looking uncomfortable.

  Kirk looked up sharply from Chekov’s hands. “What?”

  “Well, um ... the shield ... I was fiddling with the signals and—

  “You got the shield down?”

  “Um ... aye, sir. Though I’m sure you would have [141] been able to figure it out yourself had you had the time.”

  Kirk grinned weakly and turned back to Chekov. “It’s good that you got that information, laddie,” Scott said to Chekov, clearly trying to change the subject, “and we’ll be able to translate it for sure. But if it’s encrypted, I doubt there’s anyone sufficiently trained back at the colony to break the code.”

  Kirk’s heart sank at the words, but he didn’t let his disappointment show. “We have at least three Starfleet officers here,” he said. “Between us, we’ll come up with something.”

  “I was never trained in such things,” Scott said. “And unless you two have taken some courses I don’t know about, neither were you.”

  “Damn it, we have to try!” Kirk cried. “The entire Federation could be at risk!”

  At that moment, there was a crackle and then Alex’s voice filled the little shuttle. “Uncle Jim! We’re under attack! Repeat, we’re under attack!”

  Even at top speed it was several minutes before the Drake could reach the colony. They saw the brutal orange and crimson glow of the fire while still several kilometers away. There had been a few injuries, none of them serious, and no fatalities. The only true casualty had been the Mayflower II herself.

  “They came out of nowhere,” Alex had told them, his voice high-pitched with panic. “They came out of nowhere and just started firing on the ship!”