"By the book—?" Saavik said.
"Regulation forty-six-A: 'During battle …'"
"'… no uncoded messages on an open channel,'" Saavik said; and then, to Spock, "It seems very near a lie. . . ."
"It was a code, Lieutenant," he said. "Unfortunately the code required some exaggeration of the truth."
She did not answer; he knew she was troubled by the difference between a lie and a figurative interpretation of reality. He knew precisely how she felt. It had taken him a long time to understand that in some cases no objective difference existed, and that any explanation lay completely within circumstances.
"We only needed hours, Saavik, not days," Kirk said. "But now we have minutes instead of hours. We'd better make use of them."
"Yes, sir," she said, unconvinced.
The medical team arrived, and Saavik eased Commander Chekov to the stretcher. She looked at the flower in her hand for a moment, then placed it carefully beside him.
"Jim, I'm taking Chekov to sick bay," McCoy said.
"Take good care of him, Bones."
"What can we do?" Carol Marcus asked.
"Carol, it's going to be chaos on the bridge in a few minutes," Kirk said apologetically. "I've got to get up there."
"Drs. Marcus," McCoy said, "I can put you both to work. Come with me."
Kirk, Spock, and Saavik hurried toward the bridge. Kirk stopped at the first turbo-lift, but Spock kept going.
"The lifts are inoperative below C-deck," Spock said, and opened the door to the emergency stairs. He climbed them three at a time.
"What is working around here?"
"Very little, Admiral. Main power is partially restored. . . ."
"Is that all?"
"We could do no more in two hours. Mr. Scott's crew is trying to complete repairs."
They reached C-deck. Spock and Saavik entered the lift. Kirk was breathing hard. He paused a moment in the corridor, wiped his face on his sleeve, and got into the cage.
"Damned desk job," he said softly. "Bridge."
The lift accelerated upward.
Jim Kirk stepped out onto the bridge of his ship. It still showed the effects of the earlier skirmish, but he could see immediately that most functions had been restored.
Mr. Sulu, at his old place at the helm, glanced over his shoulder when the lift doors opened.
"Admiral on the bridge!" he said immediately.
"Battle stations," Kirk said.
The Klaxon sounded; the lights dimmed down to deep red.
"Tactical, Mr. Sulu, if you please."
"Aye, sir."
The viewscreen flipped over into a polar view of Regulus I, showing the orbits of Spacelab, Reliant, and the Enterprise. The two starships were in opposition, one on either side of the planetoid. Reliant's delta-vee coordinates changed as they watched, revealing that Khan's ship had begun a search.
"Our scanners are undependable at best," Spock said. "Spacelab's scanners, however, are fully operational; they are transmitting the position of Reliant."
"Very good, Mr. Spock."
Reliant suddenly accelerated at full impulse power.
"Uh-oh," Kirk said.
It would slingshot itself around Regulus I; unless the Enterprise accelerated, too, and continued to chase and flee the other ship, around and around the planetoid, his ship would soon be a target again. And with the engines in the shape they were in, they could not stay hidden for long.
"Reliant can both outrun and outgun us," Spock said calmly. "There is, however, the Mutara Nebula. . . ."
Kirk took out his glasses and put them on to study the displays. He opened a channel to the engine room.
"Mr. Scott—the Mutara Nebula. Can you get us inside?"
"Sir, the overload warnings are lit up like a Christmas tree; the main energizer bypasses willna take much strain. Dinna gi' us too many bumps."
"No promises, Mr. Scott. Give me all you've got."
"Admiral," Saavik said, "within the nebula, the gas clouds will interfere with our tacticals. Visuals will not function. In addition, ionization will disrupt our shields."
Kirk glanced over the rim of his spectacles at Saavik, then at Spock. Spock raised one eyebrow.
"Precisely, Lieutenant: the odds will then be even," the Vulcan said.
The crew had taken their battle stations, pushing the bridge into controlled pandemonium. The dimmed lights cast strange shadows; computer screens glowed in eerie colors. Kirk watched the tactical display. Reliant was moving so fast it would round the planet's horizon in a few minutes and have the Enterprise in line-of-sight. Kirk wanted to be out of phaser and torpedo range yet remain a tempting target.
"Admiral," Saavik asked, "what happens if Reliant fails to follow us into the nebula?"
Kirk laughed, though with very little humor. "That's the least of our worries. Khan will follow us."
"Remind me, Lieutenant," Spock said, "to discuss with you the human ego."
"Mr. Scott," Kirk said into the intercom, "are you ready?"
"As ready as I can be, Admiral."
"Mr. Sulu."
"Course plotted, sir: Mutara Nebula."
"Accelerate at full impulse power—" he hesitated until only a few degrees of arc remained before Reliant's orbit would carry it within sight of the Enterprise, "—now!"
On the viewscreen, the coordinates defining his ship's linear acceleration increased instantaneously by orders of magnitude. The Enterprise sped out of orbit.
A moment later, Reliant rounded the limb of Regulus, and its course and speed altered radically.
"They've spotted us," Mr. Sulu said.
Dr. McCoy had nearly finished the workup on Pavel Chekov when the battle stations alarm sounded. He experienced an all too familiar tightening in his stomach. For a long time, he had believed his reaction was as simple as fear, but eventually, the better he knew himself, he realized that it was at least as much the loathing he felt for having to patch up—sometimes to lose—young people who should never have been injured in the first place. Usually they were not as young as Peter Preston … but they were seldom very much older.
At least—to McCoy's astonishment and relief—Pavel Chekov had a good chance of recovering. The horrible creature had insinuated its long and narrow length into his skull, to be sure; but although it had penetrated the dura mater, the arachnoid membrane, and the pia mater, all the way to the cerebrum itself, it had not, at the time of its departure, actually destroyed any brain tissue. Instead it had nestled itself in the sulci between the brain's convolutions. No doubt it would have done more damage had it remained much longer, but as it was Chekov should convalesce as if from a severe concussion. McCoy found no evidence of infection. Pavel Chekov was a very fortunate man.
The ship shuddered around him.
"What was that?" David Marcus had been pacing back and forth through sick bay, nervous as a cat, haunted. Just now there was very little to do. If they were lucky, things would continue that way.
"Impulse engines," McCoy said.
"What does that mean?"
"Well, son, I expect it means the chase is on."
"I'm going up there."
"To the bridge? No, you're not. You'd just be in the way. Best stay here, David."
"Dammit—there must be something I can do."
"There isn't," McCoy said. "Nor anything I can do. All we can do is wait for them to start shooting at each other, and wish we could keep them from doing it. That's the trouble with this job."
Khan Singh chuckled at the pitiful attempt of the Enterprise to evade him. Reliant, accelerating under full impulse power, streaked out of orbit after James Kirk's crippled ship.
"So," he said to Joachim. "They are not so wounded as they wished us to believe. The hunt will be better than I thought, my friend."
Joachim displayed a long-range scan of their course, showing the Enterprise and the great opaque cloud of the nebula ahead.
"My lord, we will lose our advantage if we follow the
m into the dust. I beg you—"
Khan cut him off. Joachim was beginning to sound like a traitor. Khan decided to give him one last chance.
"Rake the Enterprise," he ordered.
The phaser rippled outward, a long finger of dense light. It streaked along the side of the Enterprise's starboard engine nacelle. The starship heeled over and began to tumble, spiraling on its headlong course.
The Enterprise lurched; its artificial gravity flexed, trembled, and finally steadied. McCoy closed his eyes a moment, till he regained his balance.
Action commenced, he thought bitterly.
Chekov gave an inarticulate cry and sat up abruptly, his eyes wild.
"Take it easy," McCoy said.
"I must help Captain—"
"No. Listen to me, Pavel. You've been through a hell of a lot. You haven't any strength, and you haven't any equilibrium."
"But—"
"You can lie down willingly, or you can lie down sedated. Which will it be?"
Pavel tried again to get up. He nearly passed out. McCoy caught him and eased him back on the bed. The young Russian turned deathly pale.
"Now will you stay put?"
Chekov nodded slightly without opening his eyes.
The ship shuddered again. Coming out of the instrument room where she had been helping Chris Chapel, Carol Marcus staggered, then recovered her balance. The flower garland slipped from her hair. She caught it, stared at it as if she had never seen it before, and carefully laid it aside.
"Dr. McCoy, I can't just sit here. I keep thinking about—Please, give me something to do."
"Like I was tellin' David," McCoy said grimly, "there isn't much to do. . . ." He realized how desperate she was to stay occupied. "But you can help me get the surgery ready. I'm expecting customers."
Marcus paled, but she did not back off.
If what she and the kid have been through in the last couple of days didn't break them, I guess nothing will, McCoy thought.
Marcus glanced around sick bay.
"Where is David?" she said.
"I don't know—he was here a minute ago."
"Ion concentration increasing," Mr. Spock said. "Approximately two minutes to sensor overload and shield shutdown."
The ship plowed on. Encountering great quantities of ionized dust and gases, the shields began to re-radiate energy in the visual spectrum. The viewscreen picked it up, sparkling and shimmering. The crisp rustle of static rose over the low hum of conversation and information on the bridge. A tang of ozone filled the air.
Reliant fired again. The Enterprise shuddered. If the shields were not quite steady, at least they held.
"Reliant is closing fast," Saavik said.
Directly ahead, the nebula's core raged.
"They just don't want us going in there," Kirk said, nodding toward the viewscreen.
"One minute," Spock said.
The turbo-lift doors slipped open and David Marcus came onto the bridge.
"Admiral, Reliant is decelerating."
"Uhura, patch me in."
"Aye, sir."
Khan felt the power of the impulse engines slacken, then whisper into reverse thrust. The gap between Reliant and the Enterprise immediately widened.
"Joachim, why are we decelerating?"
"My lord, we daren't follow them into the nebula. Our shields will fail—"
"Khan, this is James Kirk."
Khan Singh leaped to his feet with a scream of surprise and anger. James Kirk—still alive!
"We tried it your way, Khan. Are you game for a rematch?"
Khan struggled to gain control over his rage.
James Kirk began to laugh. "Superior intellect!" he said with contempt. "You're a fool, Khan. A brutal, murderous, ridiculous fool."
"Full impulse power!" Khan's voice was a growl.
Joachim stood up and faced him. "My lord, no! You have everything! You have Genesis!" He looked Khan in the eye and this time he did not flinch. Khan strode toward the helm, but Joachim blocked his way.
"My lord—" he said, pleading.
"Full power!" Khan cried.
He struck his friend with the violent strength of fury. The blow lifted Joachim completely off the deck and flung him over the control console. He fell hard against the forward bulkhead, lay still for a moment, then dragged himself to his feet.
"Full power, damn you!" Khan grabbed the controls and slammed full power to the engines.
Spock watched the tactical display. Reliant stopped decelerating and plunged forward at full impulse power.
"Khan Singh does have at least one admirable quality," the Vulcan said.
"Oh?" said Kirk. "And what's that?"
"He is extremely consistent." Spock glanced at the ionization readings. The ship had technically been within the nebula for some time. Now it approached a thick band of dust where pressure waves from the original exploding star met and interfered. The energy flux and mass concentration must disrupt the Enterprise's operation.
"They're following us," said Mr. Sulu.
"Sensor overload … mark." Almost immediately, the image on the viewscreen broke up and shattered.
Sulu piloted the ship blind through the cloud of gas and dust and energy.
Joachim returned to his place at the helm, bewildered into silence. In all the years that he had served his lord, all the times of witnessing the violence to which Khan was prone, Joachim had never himself been subject to that wrath. Khan had never assaulted him. Until now.
Joachim had been in fights aplenty; he had even, in his younger days, lost a few. None had ever affected him like the single blow from Khan Singh. His hands shook on the controls, partly from humiliation and partly from rage. He had sworn to follow Khan even to death. There was no room for compromise: he had put no conditions on his vow. No conditions for madness, no conditions for betrayal.
Freedom was in Khan's grasp, yet he was throwing it away. Joachim indeed felt betrayed.
The Enterprise vanished into a thick projection of dust, a tendril of exploded matter from the pulsar at the nova's center.
"Follow it!" Khan said.
Joachim held his tongue and obeyed.
The viewscreen's image dissolved into random colors, punctuated by the periodic flash of the pulsar's electromagnetic field.
"Tactical!" Khan cried.
"Inoperative," Joachim said, without expression.
"Raise the shields!"
"Inoperative." Joachim saw that the ship's hull could not long withstand the stress of the high concentration of dust, not at the speed it was going. "Reducing speed," he said coldly.
He could feel Khan's gaze burning into him, but this time Khan made no protest.
The Enterprise broke through the worst of the dust; visuals and tacticals returned, but the shields were out completely. Sulu changed course, creeping through the nebula's diffuse mass just outside the irregular boundary which would both hide the Enterprise, and blind it.
The Enterprise hovered outside the cloud, and waited.
"Here it comes," Saavik said.
Reliant plowed slowly through the dust. It would be blind for another few moments.
"Phaser lock just blew, Admiral," Mr. Sulu said.
"Do your best, Mr. Sulu. Fire when ready." Sulu believed he could hit the opposing ship, even at this range. Precisely, carefully, he aimed. A moment's pause:
Fire—
The magnetic bearings of a stabilizing gyro exploded, and the Enterprise lurched. The phasers beam went wide.
Sulu muttered a curse and plunged the Enterprise back into the nebula as Reliant spotted them and fired. The photon torpedo just missed, but it expended its energy in the cloud, and a mass of charged particles and radiation slammed into them. He struggled to steady the ship.
"Hold your course," Kirk said. "Look sharp. . . ."
"At what?" Lieutenant Saavik murmured. She drew more power to the sensors, tightened the angle, and ran the input through enhancement.
For
an instant, the viewscreen cleared. Sulu started involuntarily—Reliant loomed on the screen: collision course!
"Evasive starboard!" Kirk yelled.
Too late.
Reliant's phaser blast hit the unshielded Enterprise dead-on. The power-surge baffles on the primary helm console failed completely. It carried a jolt of electricity straight through the controls. Half the instruments blew out. Sulu felt the voltage arc across his hands. It flung him back, arching his spine and shaking him like a great ferocious animal, and slammed him to the deck.
Every muscle in Sulu's body cramped into knots. He lurched over onto his face and tried to rise. He could not breathe. The pain from his seared hands shot through him, cold and hot and overwhelming.
He lost consciousness.
When Mr. Sulu fell, Saavik leaped to the helm, seeking out which operations still functioned and which had crashed.
"Phaser bank one!" Kirk said. "Fire!"
Saavik's hands were an extension of the controls, her body was part of the ship itself.
She fired.
* * *
The Enterprise's phaser beam sizzled across Reliant's main hull, full force. The blast reverberated across the bridge. Power failed for a moment, and with it artificial gravity and all illumination. Khan gripped the armrests of the captain's chair, holding himself steady, but through the darkness and the shrieks of tortured metal he heard his people cry out and fall.
Joachim pitched forward over the helm controls.
"Joachim!"
The gravity flowed back, returning slowly to normal, and the lights glowed to a bare dimness.
As Reliant plunged ahead, unpiloted and blind, Khan sprang to his old friend's side. He lifted him as gently as he could. Joachim cried out in pain. Khan lowered him to the deck, supporting his shoulders. The jagged ends of broken bones ground together, and Joachim's face was bloody and lacerated. He reached out, his fingers spread and searching.
He could not see.
Khan permitted the touch. He laid his hand over Joachim's.
"My lord. . . ." Joachim whispered. "You proved … yourself … superior. . . ."
Khan could feel the life ebbing from his friend. For a moment, he experienced despair. His sight blurred: he tried to force away the tears but they spilled unchecked down his face. This was what his hatred had bought—
The Wrath of Khan Page 17