Star Trek: The Original Series: No Time Like the Past

by Greg Cox

  The dice are rolling in my favor, he thought. For the moment, his dreams of a princely ransom—from the Klingons, or the Romulans, or whoever else might meet his price—had been preserved, but he did not intend to give Kirk a second chance to dash his hopes by eliminating Seven. Too much time and trouble had been invested in this endeavor; no smug, pink-skinned human was going to deprive him of his profits. He was already envisioning an auction the likes of which the quadrant had never seen—with the elusive time traveler going to the highest bidder. The Klingons wouldn’t be happy if they lost, but their own cloaking device would help the Navaar evade their wrath. He’d just have to avoid the wrong side of the Neutral Zone for a time. . . .

  “More power to the tractor beam!” he ordered. “Get that shuttle into our cargo bay now!”

  “Are you sure, Captain?” Daol asked. Undue caution stayed his hand. “It will be necessary to lower our own shields to bring the Federation craft aboard.”

  The man’s recalcitrance infuriated Habroz. Now was no time for timidity.

  “I know that, you faint-hearted gelding! Do as I say!” He raised his communicator to his lips. “Habroz to K’Mara! Defend that shuttle. Keep the Enterprise busy. Block their phasers if you have to. Whatever it takes to keep them from killing Seven!”

  Her husky voice answered him. “Understood, Captain! Consider it done.”

  “See that it is!”

  Despite his impatience, he could not fault the speed with which K’Mara carried out his commands. On-screen, the O’Spakya maneuvered to place itself between the Enterprise and the endangered shuttle. Enemy phaser beams bounced off the O’Spakya’s shields, even as the ludicrous Mavelan vessel fired back at Kirk’s ship with its own meager phasers. Per his earlier orders, K’Mara deliberately held off from targeting the Enterprise’s most vulnerable areas. Not that it really mattered; Habroz doubted that the lowly merchanter had enough firepower to annihilate the Enterprise, even with Kirk’s shields down.

  Unless the Navaar opened fire as well?

  He toyed with the possibility. Now that Seven was no longer aboard the Enterprise, he was sorely tempted to destroy the Federation starship once and for all, but then he recalled that more than seventy of his own men were still aboard Kirk’s vessel. It would be a waste to sacrifice so many loyal raiders—unless it was absolutely necessary.

  Better to give his men a chance to capture the Enterprise instead. A Constitution-class starship would fetch plenty at auction as well, and it might even appease the Klingons should they fail to win the bidding on Seven. Starfleet’s most celebrated ship, the vessel that defeated the Doomsday Machine and foiled the Klingons on numerous occasions, would make an excellent consolation prize.

  But he was getting ahead of himself. First, he needed to make sure that Seven was truly his. Habroz glared at the screen where, with what seemed like agonizing slowness, the captured shuttle was being drawn inexorably backward toward the Navaar. He knew he would not truly rest easy until the precious cargo was safely secured within his brig.

  “Faster!” he bellowed. “Get me that shuttle!”

  Twenty-eight

  Phaser beams rocked the O’Spakya.

  The tiled floor of the bridge lurched beneath Spock’s feet, but it did not prevent him from paying careful attention to the unfolding crisis. Although he and McCoy remained captives of the Orions, his analytical gaze took in every detail of the space battle being waged in the Neutral Zone, as well as all that transpired aboard the Mavelan ship. Chance favored the prepared mind, a sagacious human had once said, and Spock agreed. The more data he accumulated about their enemies and environment, the better his odds of turning the situation to his advantage. That was the Vulcan way—and good Starfleet tactics.

  Watch and wait, he counseled himself. The right opportunity will arise.

  The central navigation orb had been wrestled back into place by Mavelan technicians. A trio of Orion guards stood watch over Spock and McCoy, twisting the hostages’ arms behind their backs, while K’Mara and her helmsman commanded the O’Spakya, guiding it directly into the path of the Enterprise’s phasers. The levitating globe revealed that the Navaar was in the process of capturing the Galileo II. Spock gathered that Seven was aboard the ensnared shuttlecraft. Small wonder that the Enterprise appeared intent on destroying the shuttle before the Orions could take custody of it.

  Spock would have done the same in the captain’s place.

  “What are you doing?” Papa Yela squealed as another volley of phasers shook the merchanter. The lights flickered, and warning annunciators flashed around the star-shaped bridge. Emergency klaxons wailed. Decorative molding rained down from the ceiling. Dismayed by the damage being inflicted on his ship, he crawled out from beneath the console where he’d taken refuge before. He staggered across the quaking bridge toward K’Mara, flapping his tentacles anxiously. A crumpled turban sat askew atop his head. His canine jowls quivered. “By the star-spirits, cease this madness! You’re wrecking my ship!”

  K’Mara batted him away impatiently. “Hold your tongue! Who cares what happens to this broken-down scow? The secrets of tomorrow are nearly within our grasp!”

  A handful of Mavelan crew members watched the confrontation uneasily, torn between their fear of the Orions and their loyalty to Papa Yela. K’Mara glared ferociously at them. Her saw-toothed dagger reflected the flashing warning lights. “Stay at your posts, you miserable dogs, or I’ll toss your wormy guts out an airlock!”

  Cowed, the Mavela remained at their stations, leaving the helm to one of K’Mara’s men. Papa Yela whimpered in protest. “Please, we’ve done all you asked. We are a peaceful people. This is not our fight!”

  “It is now!” She yanked Papa Yela’s medallion off his chest, breaking the chain. She hurled it to the floor and ground it beneath her heel. Sparks flared as the inner circuitry shattered. She shoved the alien patriarch away from her, sending him flying into a scorched steel bulkhead. Moaning, he slumped to the floor. His turban unraveled, adding to his pathetic appearance. K’Mara gave him an extra kick for good measure. “Now keep out of my sight!”

  Spock observed the encounter with interest.

  • • •

  “Why is that shuttle still in one piece?” Kirk demanded. A scowl betrayed his frustration as the O’Spakya blocked his view of the Galileo II. Enemy phasers scarred the Enterprise’s durable outer plating, but he couldn’t worry about that now. His eyes were fixed on the shuttle on the screen. The gap between Seven and the Navaar was shrinking by the second. “We need to take it out . . . now!”

  “I’m trying, Keptin!” Chekov said. “I can’t get a phaser lock on the shuttle. The Mavelan ship is intercepting our shots!”

  “So get past them!” Kirk looked to the helm for assistance. “Mister Sulu?”

  “Aye, sir.” Sulu executed a sudden turn, trying to get Chekov a clean shot at the shuttle, but the O’Spakya was smaller and more maneuverable than the Enterprise; whoever was piloting the merchanter matched them move for move. Evasive tactics spared the Enterprise from the worst of the Mavelan phaser barrage, yet it brought them no closer to nailing the shuttle.

  “The Navaar has lowered its shields,” Chekov reported. “It’s opening its cargo bay doors.”

  On-screen, an open maw appeared at the base of the Navaar’s prow. A hatchway lowered like the jaw of some enormous deep-space behemoth, offering a view of a dark, cavernous cargo more than large enough to hold the captured shuttle. Peering past the intrusive Mavelan ship, Kirk caught a glimpse of the Galileo II being pulled into the open cavity. Within moments, Seven would be Habroz’s prisoner.

  “Arm photon torpedoes!” Kirk ordered. “Fire them right through the O’Spakya if you have to.”

  Uhura gasped in alarm. “Captain! Mister Spock and Doctor McCoy are aboard that ship!”

  “I know that, Lieutenant,” Kirk said grimly. “And I know what I have to do.”

  The shuttle disappeared into the Navaar’s voracious maw.
Scalloped steel doors began to shut, trapping the Galileo II in the bowels of the marauder.

  “It’s too late, Keptin!” Chekov held his fire. “We’d be killing Spock and the doctor for no reason!”

  The ensign’s logic was irrefutable. “Damn,” Kirk swore. “We lost her.” He looked at Seven’s visage on the screen. Who knew what unspeakable tortures Habroz and his Klingon sponsors had in store for Seven? A mind-sifter could extract all her secrets, while damaging her brain irreparably. “I’m so sorry, Annika.”

  “Seven,” she corrected him. “Thank you for your hospitality . . . and your efforts on my behalf. You have done all you were able. The future is in my hands now.”

  Uhura looked away. “That poor woman.”

  “Bozhe moi,” Chekov whispered.

  “You were right, Kirk,” Santiago said glumly. “She didn’t belong in our time. All this bloodshed in pursuit of her secrets . . . and now the Orions have her. Heaven help the Federation!”

  The cargo hatch closed on the shuttle. Seven’s window blinked out.

  “The Navaar’s shields are back up, Keptin.”

  Wait for it, Kirk thought.

  A heartbeat later, just as planned, the shuttle exploded inside the marauder.

  • • •

  “No! Furies damn it!”

  K’Mara cried out as an exploding ion engine tore open the Navaar’s cargo hold. She stared in horror at the violent cataclysm visible within the observation globe. A blazing orange fireball briefly lit up the interior of the hold before being snuffed out by the vacuum of space. The spectacular detonation threw the marauder for a loop, sending it spinning uncontrollably on its axis. Fused steel debris, including a charred segment of a nacelle, erupted from the breached hull. A flickering force field struggled to patch the gap. Billowing black smoke slipped through cracks in the field. Stuck aboard the O’Spakya, the other Orions could only watch as the wounded marauder tumbled through space, even as Spock registered the fact of Seven’s apparent self-destruction.

  Had she truly just blown herself up?

  “Habroz!” K’Mara shouted into her wrist-communicator. “Captain!”

  Concern for her captain or their prize was quickly driven from her thoughts by the fact that the huge marauder was hurtling straight toward the O’Spakya. Her jade eyes widened in alarm. “Evasive action!” she shouted at the Orion helmsman. “All hands, brace for impact!”

  The helmsman threw the merchanter hard to starboard, while simultaneously giving the ship a sudden burst of acceleration that sent everyone on the bridge stumbling to one side. The guard assigned to Spock let go of his captive, grabbing a nearby pylon for support, while McCoy’s watchdog staggered backward, away from the doctor. A third Orion, the one who had killed Lieutenant Tang, smacked his head into a bulkhead. He collapsed to the deck, his skull bleeding profusely. Papa Yela prayed feverishly for deliverance. The other Mavela, cowering at their stations, did likewise.

  Interesting, Spock thought. And promising.

  The helmsman’s frantic maneuver was only partially successful. Before any of the pirates or prisoners could regain their balance, the Navaar portside nacelle scraped against the O’Spakya’s shields as the marauder careened past them, barely avoiding a more catastrophic collision. But even a glancing blow was enough to throw the bridge into chaos. Grinding metal echoed like thunder. Clashing deflector grids produced a bright actinic flash that briefly whited out the image inside the floating orb. A tremendous jolt reminded Spock of an avalanche he had once experienced on Vulcan’s rugged Mount Seleya.

  He did not let that distract him.

  Thrown off-balance by the impact, K’Mara came within reach of Spock. Seizing the moment, he administered a nerve pinch to her neck. Her eyes rolled upward until only the whites could be seen, and she sagged backward against Spock, who grabbed the unconscious pirate to keep her from falling. His Vulcan ancestry gave him sufficient strength to easily hold her up with one arm even as he reached for her disruptor pistol with his free hand. The weapon was right where he had noted earlier: on K’Mara’s hip.

  “Excuse me, madam. I need to borrow your sidearm.”

  In the confusion, the other Orions did not immediately grasp what was happening. Showing admirable presence of mind, Doctor McCoy extracted a loaded hypospray from his medkit, and before his captor could recover from the crash, the doctor spun around and pressed it to the pirate’s tattooed shoulder. A powerful anesthetic knocked the Orion out almost as effectively as a nerve pinch. Spock was impressed by McCoy’s resourcefulness.

  “Ably done, Doctor. You never cease to surprise me.”

  “Hell, man,” McCoy drawled. “You don’t need green blood to keep cool in a crisis. Any trauma doc can tell you that!”

  Spock’s own captor, seeing his comrades going down, lunged at the former hostages. “Stinking pink offal!” he snarled. “Release K’Mara!”

  “If you insist.”

  Spock pivoted on his heel and flung K’Mara’s limp form at the oncoming raider. The woman hit the other Orion like a life-size green rag doll. They crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs and leather. Spock followed up by blasting the male raider with K’Mara’s disruptor pistol, after setting it on stun, of course. Despite the brutal murder of Lieutenant Tang, Spock was not intent on vengeance, only the safety of McCoy and the Enterprise. Orion deaths would not restore Daniel Tang to life.

  That left only the Orion helmsman, who was too busy trying to keep the O’Spakya under control to take part in the brawl. Papa Yela gulped at the sight of the pistol in Spock’s grip.

  “Mercy, wronged ones!” A tentacle reached for his medallion, perhaps hoping to trigger another sonic attack, but the jeweled control mechanism lay in pieces on the floor, where K’Mara had stamped on it earlier. His blubbery jowls quivered. Pink eyes leaked yellow tears. “We are not to blame. In their wickedness, the Orions compelled us!”

  McCoy shook his head in disgust. “Can you believe this character?” His face fell as he recalled what they had witnessed in the orb only minutes ago. “Good Lord, Spock! Seven . . . She was in that shuttlecraft when it exploded. She sacrificed herself for all of us!”

  “So it appears,” Spock concurred. More immediate concerns presented themselves. He scanned the nearby workstations. During his captivity, he had taken advantage of his forced inactivity to thoroughly observe the bridge’s instrumentation and operations. He raised the stolen disruptor, knowing precisely where to aim it. “Farewell, Papa Yela. You will forgive me if I refrain from wishing you either long life or prosperity.”

  “No! Mercy, I beg of you!”

  Thinking Spock was about to shoot him, Papa Yela dived for cover, but he was never the intended target. Instead a brilliant green disruptor beam leapt from the muzzle of the pistol to strike a specific control panel. A geyser of sparks erupted from the console as it burst into flame. A malfunction alarm beeped loudly.

  “Now then, Doctor. I believe we have overstayed our welcome.”

  McCoy scoffed. “You think?”

  Twenty-nine

  Despite the ongoing battles, both within and without the Enterprise, the explosive demise of the Galileo II cast a hush over the bridge. Kirk, who had been anticipating the blast ever since Seven first suggested the ploy to him, was nonetheless impressed by the force of the explosion. When Seven had rigged the shuttle’s ion engine to overload, she hadn’t messed around. Kirk smiled grimly at the thought of Habroz’s reaction. Apparently Orion mythology did not include any Trojan horses.

  Going off inside the Navaar’s shielded hull, the self-destructing shuttlecraft had caught the Orions totally by surprise. Kirk briefly had thought that maybe the blast would destroy the Navaar completely, but the damaged marauder merely had spun out of control instead. Seven had just hurt the enemy ship, not killed it.

  Kirk couldn’t complain. Under the circumstances, I’ll take what I can get.

  “It worked, Keptin!” Chekov exclaimed finally. His faulty marksmanshi
p had all been part of the ruse, as had been Sulu’s seeming inability to get past the O’Spakya; the entire bridge crew had put on a master class in acting. “The Cossacks fell for it!”

  “But Doctor Seven . . .” Uhura’s somber tone was unfeigned. “I can’t believe she’s really gone. It seems like we barely got a chance to know her.”

  “But she lived long enough to see a future we’ll probably never know,” Kirk reminded her, offering his crew what consolation he could. “This was never her time. Perhaps she wasn’t meant to live among us . . . or find her way home.”

  “Maybe it’s better this way,” Santiago mused. “Look at all the carnage her very presence spawned. There could be no peace in the galaxy as long as she existed in this era.”

  Now he gets it, Kirk thought, refraining from saying “I told you so.” He had more important things to worry about.

  What about Spock, he wondered, and McCoy?

  Kirk watched tensely as the Navaar almost collided with the O’Spakya, practically scraping the paint off its hull. The nerve-racking near miss had not been part of Seven’s plan; her kamikaze strike against the Orions had almost claimed Spock and McCoy as well. “My,” Sulu said, “that was a close one.”

  You can say that again, Kirk thought.

  He was trying to figure out how to rescue the hostages when Chekov piped up with a surprising announcement. “Keptin! The O’Spakya’s shields are down!”

  What? Kirk thought. How did that happen?

  The answer came to him at once.