I.K.S. Gorkon Book Three

by Keith R. A. DeCandido

  Six of them were in the room on the other side of the door, two in hammocks of some kind, three walking around, and one standing at a door on the opposite end. The room in question was spherical, as expected. The one at the opposite door had odd markings on his torso, and was holding a long tube that Wol suspected was a weapon.

  That one was, therefore, the first person she fired on.

  To the creature’s credit, as soon as the door opened to reveal twelve Klingons, the guard—if that’s what it was—immediately pointed the tube at them. Even as Wol’s own disruptor fire sliced through the air, some kind of energy burst emitted from the tube.

  Next to her, the beam struck Trant, burning a hole right through his shoulder—a hole large enough to cause his left arm to drop to the floor, followed quickly by Trant himself, who, to his credit, did not scream in pain even though his entire left shoulder was now gone.

  After seeing that the guard had also been hit by Wol’s disruptor fire, the leader bent down to grab the locator, hoping that it was not keyed to Trant’s DNA signature or retinal patterns or some other thing that would make it useless to them. Meanwhile, the report of nine more disruptors echoed in Wol’s ears. Only Trant, Wol herself, and Yojagh—who was still kneeling at the door panel—didn’t fire.

  Moments later, Wol was holding the locator and there were half a dozen dead Elabrej in the room. The locator had a small screen that indicated the distance and direction of the signal from B’Etloj. Wol stepped forward and the distance lessened. Good.

  She turned back around and saw that Trant was now lying in a pool of his own blood, which had come pouring out of the gaping hole where his left shoulder and left arm used to be. He would be dead in moments.

  After all the plans I had for your death, Trant, it’s almost appropriate that you dash them and die in combat. For a moment, she considered performing the death ritual on him, then decided not to bother. Leaving aside any other considerations, we need to stay as quiet as possible.

  She waved forward with the disruptor in her right hand, while keeping an eye on the locator she held in her left.

  At the report of another disruptor blast behind her, she turned to see Goran and two members of the seventeenth firing into the corridor behind them. Goran was using the ancient disruptor his father had given him, which supposedly belonged to an ancestor of the big man’s who served with Dahar Master Kor at Organia over a century ago.

  The weapons fire stopped a moment later; one member of the seventeenth was cut down, but Wol couldn’t see past Goran to see what they fought.

  Since the need for silence was now pretty much past, she cried out, “Goran, report!”

  “There were five aliens with funny marks on their bellies. They had weapons and they attacked us. We stopped them.”

  Zabyk added, “Bekk Tamlik and Bekk Gor are dead.”

  Wol let out a breath. “Yojagh, get that door closed and keep it closed, then open the one that leads out of here.”

  “Yes, Leader.” The bekk touched one control on something from his toolkit, and the door they came in through closed. As soon as it slid all the way shut, the panel next to it sparked; Wol assumed the panel on the other side did the same.

  As Yojagh worked on the other door, Wol heard a hissing sound.

  “Gas!” Ch’drak cried out. He pulled out a hand scanner. “Nature of gas unknown.”

  Wol aimed her disruptor at the panel next to the door Yojagh was working on. “Bekk, move.”

  The moment Yojagh was clear, Wol fired. The panel blew to pieces and the door opened. At the same time, a blaring noise started sounding through the speakers, and a voice sounded over some kind of public address system. Luckily, among the material sent by B’Etloj to Trant was a translation matrix for the Elabrej language, which Trant had programmed into all the leaders’ communicators, so Wol understood the words being spoken.

  “Code violet. Code violet. Intruders in the twelfth sphere. Intruders in the outer grounds. Fortieth through ninetieth defensors to the twelfth sphere. All other defensors to the outer grounds.”

  Given the ground, Wol assumed that meant fifty soldiers, not fifty squads—or worse, fifty companies. That would have been overkill.

  Then again, they destroyed the Kravokh, so perhaps these headless creatures believe in overkill.

  “Move out,” Wol said. “Shoot anyone you see that isn’t Klingon.”

  Wol took point. The door she had just opened led to another corridor, albeit a much shorter one, which in turn led into another, much larger sphere. Again, the troops advanced; again, Yojagh was tasked with getting the door open.

  And again, they were greeted by Elabrej. Wol counted at least thirty as the door slid open. Only this time they all had the markings that Wol was starting to understand indicated a soldier. They were also all armed with those energy tubes, and were all firing those weapons at the Klingon troops.

  “The cloak continues to function within expected parameters.”

  Klag clenched the fist that once belonged to his father in acknowledgment of Rodek’s words from the gunner’s position behind him and to his right. All things being equal, he would have preferred to go into battle, but right now the most important thing was to rescue Wirrk and his comrades.

  And also gain intelligence. “Ensign Kal, report.”

  With Kallo on the planet, Kal was at the operations console next to Rodek’s. “Sensors are scanning the entire planet, sir. We have also received a nondirected coded message from the Ditagh.”

  “Decode it.” Klag smiled. Because the message was not directed to any one place, its receiver couldn’t be easily tracked. It also meant there was a chance that the Gorkon wouldn’t receive it, but that was a risk worth taking.

  “It is from Captain Vikagh, sir, and he says that the fleet has engaged the enemy.”

  “Good. The Elabrej will soon learn who it is they are—”

  “Sir!” Kal cried. “I’m reading six Elabrej vessels coming into range—bearing directly on our position!”

  Again, Klag clenched his right fist. “Status of cloak?”

  Rodek double-checked his console. “Unchanged.”

  Kal added, “They’ll be in weapons range in three minutes.”

  It could be a coincidence—or they could have penetrated the cloak.

  He turned to the pilot’s position to his left. “Leskit, change our orbital path—bring us to a higher altitude.”

  The old pilot grinned. “With pleasure, sir.”

  Moments later, Kal spoke. “The ships have changed course toward our new position.”

  There it is, then. Klag rose from his chair. “Alert status! Rodek, decloak, raise shields, and arm all weapons. Leskit, bring us about to an attack posture.” Klag then recalled something from one of Toq’s briefings on the records from the Kravokh. “When we’re in range, Rodek, have the gunners aim disruptors at the tubes that interconnect the spheres.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Even as Rodek acknowledged the order, four warriors came onto the bridge and took up position at the secondary gunner positions.

  Kal then said, “The Elabrej are arming their weapons, sir. They do not match the energy signature of the weapon used on the Kravokh.”

  “The first time, perhaps—these are probably the weapons used to destroy the Kravokh when they arrived here.”

  Rodek said, “In weapons range.”

  “Firing pattern loS, Rodek, and disruptor cannons as needed. Tactical scan on screen.”

  Now Klag sat back down in his chair and watched with glee. The Chancellor-class ships were the cream of the Defense Force, the largest, most advanced, most powerful ships in the fleet. Originally designed to be used against the Jem’Hadar in the Dominion War, the conflict ended before the vessels could be deployed. Klag now relished the opportunity to use them against worthy enemies of the empire. Until now his battles had been against Kreel or Kinshaya, or fellow Klingon ships, whether the mind-controlled warriors at Narendra III or the h
onorless followers of General Talak at San-Tarah.

  Songs will be written of this day.

  He watched as the Elabrej ships fired their own weapons even as the Gorkon’s disruptors leapt outward like arachnids spinning a web. However, all the weapons were firing at the Gorkon’s previous position in orbit. They had not compensated for Leskit’s aggressive posture.

  However, three of them still hit.

  Rodek, speaking as calmly and unconcernedly as ever, said, “Shields down to ten percent.”

  Klag whirled around to face his second officer. Only three hits, yet it was enough to make their shields all but useless.

  “Sir,” Kal said. “Engineering reports that shields cannot be reconstituted.”

  Klag snarled. “Inform the medical bay that Commander Kurak is to be released immediately.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He turned back to the tactical display. Just as he did so, three of the Elabrej ships exploded.

  “Enemy vessels preparing to fire again,” Rodek said.

  The captain sat back down in his chair. “Leskit, evasive. Take us away from the planet, full impulse. Rodek, continuous fire on disruptors. Ensign Kal, inform Commander Toq that we are leaving orbit and to stand fast until they hear from us again.”

  They had several seconds to readjust their firing pattern the first time and didn’t. If the Gorkon wasn’t where it was when the weapons armed, there was less of a chance of being hit.

  “Captain, this is B’Oraq. Kurak is in no condition to run engineering, sir. She is suffering from detoxification effects.”

  Klag didn’t even know what that meant. “Is it fatal?”

  “Not really, sir, but—”

  “Doctor, if Kurak doesn’t report to engineering now, it will be fatal—for all of us.”

  To her credit, B’Oraq did not argue. “Understood. I’m releasing her. She’ll be in engineering shortly.”

  Leskit said, “We’re on course for the moon in orbit of the sixth planet.”

  “We have destroyed two more enemy vessels,” Rodek said, “and one other has lost structural integrity and will collapse momentarily.”

  Klag nodded his approval, remembering that that moon had a powerful magnetic field that would probably confuse scans to some degree. After what they endured from the subspace eddies around San-Tarah, Klag had every faith in the ability of his crew to deal with this comparatively minor problem. The lack of industrial construction or orbital bases of any kind around the moon, in comparison to the large amount of both on the other twelve moons in the system, led Klag to believe that the Elabrej were not so skilled.

  “Enemy weapons firing on our previous position,” Rodek said.

  Kal added, “They’re now changing course to pursue—and seven more ships are now coming in range. They’re setting course for the same moon, sir.”

  Which takes us from two to nine foes. They have no defenses worth mentioning—if our own evasive maneuvering weren’t making targeting difficult, we’d have destroyed all of them by now—but their offensive capabilities are staggering. Klag smiled. Oh yes, many songs will be written.

  Until now, Klag wished to be parsimonious with their photon and quantum torpedoes. They had been able to restock some after San-Tarah, mostly from the wreck of the Kreltek, but were still not at full capacity, and they would not be able to restock for some time. However, given the fragility of the Elabrej vessels, he wanted to try.

  “Rodek, two photon torpedoes on the closest ship. Fire when ready.”

  A moment later, Rodek said, “Firing.”

  Two torpedoes belched forth from the Gorkon’s aft section and struck the Elabrej vessel most proximate to them.

  It exploded upon impact of the first torpedo.

  That was enough for Klag. “Load all torpedo bays. One photon per vessel. Fire when ready.”

  “This ought to be good,” Leskit muttered, then said louder: “Approaching the moon, Captain.”

  “Firing,” Rodek said calmly at the same time that Kal said rather more frantically, “Enemy vessels arming weapons!”

  “Engineering to bridge.”

  Klag did not recognize the voice. “Who is this?”

  “Lieutenant Yaklan, sir.”

  “Where is Commander Kurak?”

  “Uh, throwing up on the deck, sir.”

  “Elabrej weapons bearing directly, sir.” Kal was practically shrieking. Klag made a mental note to discipline the ensign later for showing such poor combat skills.

  Rodek put in, “As are our torpedoes.”

  Klag turned to the tactical display. All nine enemy vessels were destroyed as the torpedoes each hit their marks.

  So did the Elabrej weapons.

  All at once, Klag’s senses were assaulted. The sound of exploding consoles and blaring alarms slammed into his ears. The stench of melted conduits and burning components filled his nostrils. Smoke burned his eyes and coated his tongue.

  Rodek was shouting over the din. “Shields down! Structural integrity field at thirty-five percent! Cloak offline! Main power failing!”

  From the pilot’s console, Leskit said, “I’ve lost helm control—we’re heading into the atmosphere!”

  Swallowing down the bitter taste of the smoke—and of defeat—Klag asked, “What is the status of communications systems?”

  “Offline!” Kal’s voice sounded peculiar, but Klag did not have time to determine why. He was more concerned with the fact that he had left Toq and his team behind on the Elabrej homeworld. Without us to extract them, they will die on that world. My abysmal luck with first officers continues unabated. A pity—you were a fine warrior, Toq. May you die well.

  “Entering stratosphere,” Leskit said.

  Klag gritted his teeth. “On screen.”

  The Gorkon’s main viewer switched from the tactical overview to the grayish moon that they had been orbiting—and which now was getting closer by the second. The image was laden with static, which Klag attributed to the world’s magnetic field combined with the damage the Gorkon had taken.

  “All hands prepare for crash landing!”

  Now Klag had to wonder who would actually write those songs….

  As energy blasts sizzled over his head, Toq thought, from his vantage point lying facedown on the grass, that the plan had seemed to be a good one back on the Gorkon.

  The complex of spherical structures where the Kravokh crew was being held was located atop a hill surrounded by a park. Toq admired the thought that went into the construction: the position was very defensible. Had Toq’s objective been to take the complex, it would have been very difficult, especially without the ability to transport directly into the structures.

  But all they had to do was hold the line until Leader Wol and her team could liberate Captain Wirrk and the other prisoners.

  Sadly, that was proving more difficult than they had imagined. During the initial attack, the Klingons had the upper hand, killing any Elabrej they saw—once they got past their revulsion. Toq had seen many different living things in his life, from the animal life on Carraya, where he grew up living among Klingons and Romulans coexisting in harmony, to the various species he met first as the scion of Lorgh, then as an officer in the Defense Force. But never had he seen any creatures like these Elabrej with their numerous legs and headless bodies.

  But once the Elabrej realized that they were facing a superior foe, they retreated into the complex, depending on weapon emplacements built into the structures and the fact that the park had no real cover. QaS DevwI’ Klaris had lost twenty-one of his sixty-five troops since the Elabrej retreated, and that number was only going to grow.

  “Gorkon to Toq. Sir, this is Ensign Kal—the Gorkon has been engaged by Elabrej forces and is leaving orbit. Your orders are to stand fast until you hear from us again.”

  Toq muttered a Romulan curse that he learned at Carraya.

  He cried to Klaris, who was just to his right, also lying facedown—as they all were—taking shots at t
he emplacements. “The Gorkon has left orbit, and we don’t know when they’ll return. We need to change our tactics.”

  “You’re not suggesting retreat, are you, Commander?” Klaris asked as he fired another shot. The QaS DevwI’ made no effort to hide the disgust in his voice at that thought.

  “No,” Toq said, though he did not share Klaris’s revulsion at the concept of retreat. Still, leaving aside any other considerations, there was nowhere to retreat to. There were only forty-seven of them, and the city surrounding them was huge. True, they could likely lose themselves in the metropolis, but to what end? Then they will be able to pick us off one by one—or if we stay in one place, they’ll face us on their terms, not ours. “We may have to consider trying to take the complex.”

  Whatever Klaris was going to say in reply was lost to Toq, as he was occupied with rolling away from one of the blasts. When he righted himself, he saw that the grass where he had been lying was burned to ashes.

  Luckily, the roll brought him closer to the QaS DevwI’, who repeated his words. “I doubt we can take the place with so few of us.”

  “Remember, there are more of us inside.” Toq grinned. “Besides, Klaris, think how well we will die!”

  “I try not to think about things like that, sir. I prefer living to fight again.”

  Toq laughed and fired at the weapon that had almost killed him. “Perhaps, but—”

  A wrenching sound interrupted Toq, squealing loud enough to hurt his ears. Instinctively, he puts his hands to them. What is that—?

  Looking up, he saw that a dark metal casing was rising from the ground and surrounding the complex. After a moment, as it rose, curving as it got higher, Toq realized that it was a sphere that would surround the smaller spheres, in essence encasing them. He removed his hand scanner. It revealed no more than his scans of the complex had—only that it was some kind of alloy the scanner’s database didn’t recognize. However, the scan confirmed what Toq had already guessed: This material was even stronger than what the various structures were made of, and it completely surrounded the area.