STAR TREK: The Original Series - The Last Roundup

by Christie Golden

  “Got it, Captain.” Scott edged out from under a console. “I crosswired with the security system that blew up Mr. Chekov’s console the last time. Press that blue button up there and it’ll send a command to all the consoles to self destruct.”

  Kirk nodded to show he understood. He took a deep breath.

  “Commander Sabra Lowe,” Skalli said softly. She had stopped crying and had a strange, calm expression on her face.

  “What?” asked Chekov, but Kirk understood immediately what Skalli was referring to.

  “Yes, Skalli,” Kirk said. “We are indeed in the same situation as Commander Lowe was so long ago. It seems the more things change, the more they remain the same.”

  “You have the same choice as she did, Captain,” Skalli said. “Continue to fight and eventually be overwhelmed, or destroy this control center now, sacrificing all our lives to save the lives of millions of other innocents.”

  She smiled softly. “A true command decision, just like hers was. I believe that Commander Lowe did the right thing then, and I believe that what you are about to do is the right thing now. It’s funny, but up until this moment I always thought of Commander Lowe as a [273] hero. But I guess she felt just the same way as we do now—scared, worried, hoping this is the right thing, hoping it’ll work.”

  Kirk gazed on her with pride and affection. “Skalli,” he said, “you would have made a wonderful ambassador.”

  Her ears pricked up and her eyes shone.

  Kirk heard the whirring noise and knew that the Falorians had gotten past the obstacle. In a matter of seconds, the guards would be in. Kirk looked from face to face, taking them in at this last moment of his life.

  Scotty, his face weathered and his eyes bright. How very many times had he saved Kirk’s life before? But now, there was nothing even he could do.

  Chekov. Kirk had watched this man mature from an enthusiastic boy into an intelligent, experienced man, one Kirk was proud to have served with and to now call friend.

  Skalli, who had grown more than he had imagined possible. She was so young, had had so much to offer.

  And Julius. As he locked gazes with his nephew, Kirk saw no reproach, no regrets, only a steady determination. Julius had many black marks against him, but in a moment, his selfless sacrifice would wipe that slate cleaner than the youth could have dreamed. Kirk regretted that only now, in these last few hours, had he felt truly close to Julius.

  It was time. Push the button, Scott had said, and the threat to the Federation, to innocent lives, would be over.

  He moved calmly, his finger steady. But when he was [274] only an inch away from the glowing button, Kirk suddenly paused.

  He was thinking about that strange, brief burst on his communicator as they fought to enter the complex. What had that been? Or rather, who had it been? Kirk knew that Starfleet was aware that he and the others were being held hostage. What if they’d sent out a rescue ship? Under the circumstances, it wasn’t logical, but Kirk knew at least one friend who, despite his professed devotion to logic, would have come if there had been any possible way. He would have done the same for Spock and the others—had done the same in the past. Would they do less than he?

  Kirk felt keenly that he had not particularly distinguished himself recently. He’d botched experiments, gotten in the way, been responsible for a severe injury to Chekov, alerted Lissan that they knew about the complex and caused Lissan to destroy their only escape vessel, failed to prevent his nephew’s capture and beating, failed to convince Lissan to stay his hand, couldn’t get a message out, and was now about to be responsible for the deaths of both Kirk brothers.

  His time on this planet had been one failure or problem after another. He was fine commanding a starship—he knew what to do there. He’d done it for years, and no amount of false modesty would make him feel that he didn’t deserve the accolades he had achieved for his service on the bridge of a starship.

  But here, it seemed that all he’d done was make one mistake right after the other. Every time he’d tried to act, all he had done was make the situation worse.

  [275] Maybe he shouldn’t act.

  Maybe his command decision would be to decide not to destroy the complex.

  Maybe he should trust his friends.

  Slowly, Kirk leaned back, and curled his extended finger into a loose fist.

  Skalli uttered an incoherent cry and sprang forward, determined to push the button herself. Quick as a snake, Kirk seized her wrist.

  “What are you doing?” Skalli shrieked.

  “Trusting,” Kirk said. The door burst open.

  And the room dematerialized around him.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  WHEN HIS ENVIRONMENT again solidified, Kirk found himself face to face with a Klingon.

  Before he could react, a familiar voice said, “Welcome aboard, Captain. Chancellor Azetbur will be pleased to see that her vow of DIS jaj je was successfully completed.”

  Kirk whirled to greet Spock, noticing as he did so that Skalli, Chekov, Julius, and Scott had also made it safely to the bridge of this Klingon ship. The Vulcan stood with his hands clasped loosely behind his back, his head cocked at an angle that Kirk knew very well indeed. Kirk stifled his impulse to hug the Vulcan and instead said, “Mr. Spock. Have I ever told you that you have impeccable timing?”

  Spock lifted an eyebrow. “We await your orders, Captain.” The Vulcan indicated the command chair. Kirk eyed the Klingon who was probably the real captain of the vessel, received an almost imperceptible nod, and took the proffered seat.

  [277] “We’ve got some hostages down there who—”

  “We have already transported everyone in the complex, including the Falorians, to this vessel and our accompanying bird-of-prey,” Spock said.

  So Spock had come riding over the figurative hill with not just one, but two Klingon ships? This DIS jaj je was obviously of great importance to Azetbur. Kirk supposed he should be grateful.

  “Very good. I can assume that the Falorians are all in custody and the injured hostages are being attended to?”

  “You may indeed,” Spock said.

  “The rest of the colonists are hiding in the cave system. Kate Gallagher rigged up a system to block their Me signs from the Falorian tricorders, but the Klingons should—”

  “We have already scanned for and located them, Captain.”

  Kirk wondered if there was anything that hadn’t already been efficiently taken care of.

  “That complex is the heart of the Falorian plan,” Kirk informed his former first officer. “But I don’t think it ever included mass murder.” He sought out the Klingon captain, figuring the biggest, meanest-looking of the bunch would hold that rank. “Captain ... ?”

  “I am Karglak,” the Klingon said. The opera singer? Here? “That is Captain Q’allock.”

  Kirk turned to face the real captain. “Captain Q’allock. I need you to send down your finest crewmen to secure that complex. Mr. Scott, you will accompany them. Sanctuary is in Federation hands now.”

  The Klingon saluted. “It is already done,” he said.

  [278] “What?” Kirk said, amazed.

  “Not actually,” Spock said. “It is a figure of speech. A slight exaggeration.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Kirk said. “I’d like to think I had something to contribute.” He swiveled in his chair, speaking as he did so. “Communications, open a channel to—Uhura!”

  The elegant, beautiful African woman gave him a slow, wide smile, positioning her long dark fingers expertly on the console. For a second, Kirk grinned stupidly, then composed himself and said, “Contact the president of the Federation. Use every encryption key in the book. This conversation needs to be completely secure.”

  Turning to her console, Uhura said teasingly in her warm voice, “It is already done.” Karglak moved to stand by her side, looking at her affectionately.

  “Any more surprises up your sleeve?” Kirk asked Spock. The Vulcan looked slightly
nonplussed at the phrase and was about to reply when the unmistakable voice of Kirk’s favorite country doctor came through the intercom on the chair.

  “Jim!”

  “Bones?”

  “Got my hands full here, but I wanted to make sure they’d really managed to get a hold of you.”

  “We’re all fine, Bones. My nephew. ...”

  “We’ve got Alexander here, he’s fine.” A pause, then in a more sober tone, McCoy continued, “He keeps asking for his brother. What should I tell him?”

  Kirk looked over at Julius. Julius glanced away, [279] fidgeting, trying to hide his emotions beneath his don’t-give-a-damn exterior. But Kirk knew him better now. Come to think of it, the boy needed to see the doctor, too. “Tell him that Julius will be right down.”

  “He’ll be glad to hear it.”

  Kirk hoped so. “Mr. Chekov, you go with him. I’ll feel better about those burns if I know Dr. McCoy has looked at them.”

  “Aye, sir.” Chekov, Scott and Julius stepped briskly toward the turbolift.

  Kirk’s eyes followed Julius. “Commander Uhura, open hailing frequencies throughout both Klingon vessels.”

  “Hailing frequencies open, Captain.”

  “This is Captain James T. Kirk to the crew and passengers of the Klingon vessels—” Kirk suddenly realized he didn’t know their names.

  “The Kol’Targh and the K’Rator,” Spock said helpfully.

  Nodding his thanks, Kirk said, “—the Kol’Targh and the K’Rator. The colonists of Sanctuary and I are profoundly grateful for your assistance here today. You have quite literally saved all our lives, and we thank you. It is my understanding that many of the colonists successfully eluded capture by the Falorians. I know that many of you took with you valuable information regarding the present danger we all face. I would like for you to upload all information you have to the Klingon computer databanks, and make sure that both ships have complete copies of this information. Captain Spock was put in charge of this mission—” it was a guess, but as [280] Spock didn’t make any move to naysay him, Kirk knew it had been a good one “—and upon my arrival, has passed command on to me. You are to take everything I have said as an order. Kirk out.”

  “Captain, I have the president,” Uhura said.

  “Onscreen.” The image of Sanctuary slowly turning in space was replaced by the reddish skin and white hair of the Federation President.

  “Captain Kirk,” he said. “It is a great pleasure to see you alive.”

  “You’ll be even happier when I tell you that Sanctuary and its Palorian research facility is under Federation control,” Kirk said. “I have a group of Klingons securing it even as we speak.”

  The president brightened visibly. “That is the best news I have heard in a long, long time.”

  “This virus is more dangerous than we thought. The Falorians did all their testing with extremely pure crystals. Anything less pure would shatter and—”

  “Yes, and cause a warp core breach. We found that out ourselves.” Kirk tried not to show his disappointment. He should have known that anything he’d been able to learn, Starfleet would have been able to learn.

  “What is the status of the virus?” continued the president.

  “As far as I know, it hasn’t yet been activated, and I believe that it can’t be as long as we’re in control of that facility.”

  “That’s part of the problem solved, but not all of it,” the president said. “If the nanoprobes remain dormant, someone could learn how to activate them. We must [281] find a way to render them completely useless.”

  Kirk nodded his agreement. “And if they remain intact, someday someone could learn how to recreate the virus. I don’t believe it was intended to be used as a method of mass destruction, but as we’ve discovered it certainly could be. If the nanoprobes aren’t completely destroyed, the danger exists that this could happen again. What’s the status on Huan?”

  The president sobered. “Not good. They’ve been bombarded for eleven hours now. So far it’s mainly infrastructure that’s been destroyed—their fleets, military bases, and so on. Minor casualties, but that could change at any minute.”

  “Who’s at the perimeter of Huanni space?” Kirk asked. “You can safely give them orders to attack now.”

  “Them? Kirk, the only ship close enough to do any good that we could be certain wasn’t infected was the Excelsior. We’ll of course notify every ship we can now, but it will take them hours to get there, perhaps even days.”

  “Do you mean to tell me there’s only one Starfleet vessel standing ready to defend Huan?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Kirk digested the news, then said, “Inform Captain Sulu of the situation.”

  “Kirk, he’s only one man with one ship.”

  “Respectfully, Mr. President, I served with Hikaru Sulu. He’ll think of something. In the meantime, we’ll be doing our best to make sure this virus is obliterated.”

  “Good job, Captain. Best of luck.” The image disappeared.

  [282] Kirk turned to Spock. “You said that the Falorians were all in custody?”

  Spock nodded. Kirk rose. “You have the bridge. Captain Q’allock, I’m less familiar with the layout of your vessel than you might think I would be. Could you escort me to the brig?”

  Q’allock snarled. “It would give me great pleasure to behold the quailing scum with my own eyes.”

  Kirk took that as a yes.

  The confines of a Klingon brig made those of Starfleet ships look like luxury suites. Dozens of Falorians, most of them clearly confused and frightened scientists, were crowded together so tightly that Kirk wondered how they could breathe. Dim red lighting provided little illumination. Kirk scanned the crush for Lissan and was about to give up, thinking that the Falorian leader had been transported to the other vessel, when he spied the Kal-Tor in the back.

  “Him,” Kirk said, pointing. The guards looked at Q’allock for confirmation. DIS jaj je or no, Kirk wasn’t their captain. The Klingon nodded, and the guards deactivated the force field. One pointed a disrupter at the crowd while the other one shoved into the press of Falorian flesh, seized Lissan, and pulled him out roughly.

  For an instant, Kirk could hardly believe that this was the selfsame being that had strutted about Sanctuary so arrogantly. He was bruised and cut, his once-crisp uniform wrinkled and soiled. Then Lissan straightened, and Kirk realized that even though everything had changed, nothing had changed.

  [283] They eyed one another for a moment, then Lissan spoke. “I suppose this is the part where you either beg me to cooperate and save your precious dilithium, or you set your hired thugs on me and bully me into submission?”

  “Neither,” Kirk said shortly. “Which one of these people is your top scientist? The one who had the greatest part in creating the virus?”

  Lissan folded his long, thin arms across his narrow chest and said nothing.

  “If you want to play it that way,” Kirk said. He turned to the crowd of Falorians. “Which one of you is the top scientist?”

  “Say nothing, any of you!” cried Lissan, and before Kirk could stop him, a Klingon had slammed the butt of his disrupter into Lissan’s gut. The Falorian doubled over. The Klingon drew back for a second blow.

  “Stop it!” Kirk cried.

  The Klingon shot him an angry look. “These people are dishonorable! They would see us all dead!” he spat. “They deserve far worse than this!”

  “That’s not for you or me to decide,” Kirk said. “The Falorians will be tried fairly. Until then, you will treat them with care and respect.”

  The Klingon reluctantly subsided. Kirk turned again to the prisoners. “I ask again—Who among you is the top scientist?”

  They simply stared at him with large, frightened eyes. Kirk sighed. He had started to turn away when a small, timid voice said, “I’m the one you want.”

  Kirk glanced over to see a small, slender fellow push [284] his way to the front. Jud
ging by Lissan’s expression of annoyance and disgust, Kirk felt that this was indeed the man he wanted. The force field was again deactivated and the scientist stepped out.

  “What is your name?” Kirk asked.

  “Don’t tell him,” Lissan warned.

  The scientist swallowed, and then said quietly, “I’m Kalaskar.”

  “Well, Kalaskar, I have a few things I want you and Lissan to see.”

  Under heavy guard, Kirk and the two Falorians entered the engineering section of the ship. While the layout was different, the huge pulsing warp core was familiar to Kirk. He asked for and was given a tricorder.

  “This vessel is a Klingon K’t’inga class battle cruiser. It’s one of the finest ships in the Klingon fleet. Wouldn’t you agree that such a vessel would be equipped with the highest-grade dilithium available?”

  Lissan only glowered, but the more timid Kalaskar said, “That would make sense.”

  Kirk tossed him the tricorder. “Scan it,” he ordered. Hesitatingly, Kalaskar did so. He frowned. “What poor grade,” he said, with a hint of Lissan’s arrogance.

  “What’s the quality?” Kirk asked.

  “A mere ninety-one percent,” Kalaskar said.

  The chief engineer bridled. “Ninety-one percent is excellent! Our ship is equipped with a superior grade crystal. Better than ninety-five does not exist!”

  “But it does,” Kirk said. “It exists on Huan. But the rest of us have to make do with a purity rate of sometimes as low as seventy-two percent. You’re the [285] scientist, Kalaskar. What do you think this crystal would do if your virus was activated?”

  “I—don’t know,” the Falorian stammered. “We didn’t know that a crystal this impure even existed.”

  “Don’t give me that,” snapped Kirk. “You’re a spacefaring race, you’ve used dilithium crystals in your ships!”

  “We have only been a spacefaring race for two centuries, Captain,” Lissan said, his tone equally as sharp. “And even for that, we have had to subsist on the charity of the Huanni. What ships we have, they gave us, along with the crystals to power them. We never examined their purity; we assumed that they were all the same. All like the single crystal we have kept since the day we were stranded on Falor.”