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

by Greg Cox

  “Now!” he ordered.

  A switch was flicked, and the Orions crashed to the floor as though stomped on by a giant invisible boot. Augmented gravity plating under the deck yanked them down with irresistible force, holding them fast even as they strained against the unbearable pull. Heavy gs tugged on their flesh and bones, distorting their faces. Their bodies piled on each other, the unlucky pirates on the bottom flattened against the hard, unyielding deck. Teeth cracked under pressure. Metal piercings tore themselves free.

  “C-cowards!” the leader of the boarding party snarled. He struggled to raise his pistol from the floor, but it might as well have been fused to the deck. His speech was slurred since he could barely lift his tongue to form the words. “R-r-release and f-fight like men!”

  Not a chance, Kirk thought. Knowing that the mole had possibly warned the Orions of the bridge’s usual defenses, he had been forced to think outside of the box. Kirk once had been on the receiving end of a similar gravitational snare; memories of that mission had inspired this brainstorm, which had worked even better than he’d anticipated. Just be grateful we didn’t dial up the gravity even higher, he silently admonished the outraged Orion. The pull was almost, but not quite, strong enough to shatter bones. We could have turned you into pancakes.

  Pinned to the floor, the helpless Orions were sitting ducks for the security forces. “Lower shield!” Hernandez barked. The crackling force field evaporated, and her team opened fire on the heaped raiders. A volley of azure stun beams silenced the Orions’ furious oaths.

  Unfortunately, the defeated pirates were not alone. A second wave of raiders assaulted the bridge from the starboard gangway, exchanging fire with Hernandez’s forces. Disruptor blasts targeted the booby-trapped floor, knocking out the gravity generators. The Orions appeared perfectly willing to risk shooting their own comrades to gain access to the bridge. Kirk didn’t know whether to be impressed or horrified by the raiders’ relentless ways.

  “Watch out!” Hernandez shouted.

  A photon grenade was flung with sufficient force to clear the damaged gravity snare. It arced above the line of defenders to land in front of the communications station, right at Uhura’s feet. Without missing a beat, she scooped it up and flung it back at the Orions.

  From the gangway, a raspy voice swore in surprise. “Hell’s balls!”

  A blinding flash, followed by a concussive blast, wreaked havoc on the remaining Orions. Hernandez led her team into the chaos, taking the fight to what was left of the invaders. Phaser beams chased after the injured pirates, who fled in disarray. Limping footsteps retreated from the bridge, followed by the rapid tread of the pursuing Starfleet security detail. A backup team remained behind to guard the bridge.

  “Nice throw, Lieutenant,” Kirk praised Uhura. He didn’t want to think about what would have happened had her reflexes been just a heartbeat slower. A photon grenade could inflict a lot of damage, as the battered Orions had just experienced firsthand.

  “Thank you, sir.” Uhura was unshaken by her close call. “You should see my curve ball.”

  “Federation border dead ahead,” Sulu reported, bringing Kirk’s attention back to the Enterprise’s headlong retreat from the Neutral Zone. On the viewer, the line of demarcation was denoted by a brilliant red graphic. A digital display counted down the time and distance. The Federation was so close that Kirk could practically taste it.

  Which only increased Habroz’s determination to blast apart their nacelles first. “Navaar closing fast!” Chekov reported, as though Kirk couldn’t see that for himself in the main viewer. “They’re gaining on us!”

  Kirk was reminded of an old-time drag race. No way in hell was he going to fall short this close to the finish line. “Scotty! Any way we can boost our engines one more time?”

  “Are ye jokin’, Captain?” Scotty looked chagrined at the very suggestion. “We’re already breakin’ me poor bairns’ backs as it is!”

  Kirk sympathized, but he needed every edge he could muster right now. “You’re the miracle worker, remember? Tell me you have one more trick up your sleeve.”

  “Well,” Scotty conceded, “there is a wee idea I’ve been toyin’ with in me meager spare time. Not sure I’d call it a miracle, exactly. More like a doodle . . .”

  “No false modesty, Scotty.” Kirk gambled that Scotty’s doodles were more reliable than most engineers’ fifty-page feasibility studies. “It doesn’t become you.” He nodded at Scotty. “Just do it . . . before we end up as eunuchs in an Orion harem!”

  “Right ye are, sir!” Scotty got back on the horn to Palmer in engineering. “Listen to me close, lass. I want you to fire up the impulse and the warp engines simultaneously. Crosslink the fusion generators to the matter/antimatter plasma stream if ye have to, and be sure to synchronize the relative thrust ratios.” A horrified protest greeted Scotty’s instructions. “Don’t tell me it can’t be done, Lieutenant. Just make it so!”

  Kirk knew Scotty was breaking every rule in the book, but he didn’t stop him. What did they have to lose, except maybe their hull integrity? Given a choice, he’d rather tear the Enterprise apart than surrender his ship to Habroz. He knew his crew felt the same.

  Here goes nothing.

  The overhead lights flickered alarmingly. Annunciators and safety monitors had a collective nervous breakdown. Worrisome black ripples streaked the warp effect on the viewer. A tortured grinding noise emanated up from engineering, many decks below. Scotty looked as though he was in actual physical distress from the abuse his poor engines were taking. He wiped sweaty palms on his trousers.

  But the Enterprise kicked it up another notch, rocketing ahead like it had just acquired a third warp nacelle. Supercharged acceleration practically gave Kirk whiplash.

  “Not bad, Mister Scott!”

  All eyes were fixed on the flashing red line on the viewer. The digital countdown hit zero. Spontaneous cheers erupted across the bridge as the Enterprise swept across the border, leaving the Neutral Zone behind. Chekov and Sulu high-fived each other. Uhura beamed at Kirk, figuratively speaking. Even McCoy cracked a smile.

  “Okay, it’s still cold, airless space,” the doctor muttered, “but at least it’s our space.”

  Kirk wasn’t ready to break out the Saurian brandy just yet. Sure, they were out of the Neutral Zone, but was that going to stop Habroz? He wouldn’t put it past the determined corsair to follow them out of the Neutral Zone. We’re still out on the far frontier, he thought. It’s not like there’s a Starfleet space station just up ahead.

  “Chekov, what about the Navaar? Is she turning back?”

  The ensign shook his head. “Negative, Keptin. She’s still coming, faster than ever.” On the viewer, the marauder tore through the glowing red graphic. “She’s crossed the border after us.”

  “And I thought my ex couldn’t take a hint,” McCoy drawled. “Where’s a good restraining order when you need one?”

  A violent shudder rattled the Enterprise. Bulkheads groaned in agony. Cracks spiderwebbed across display screens and monitors. The vibration throbbing through Kirk’s chair went up several notches, until he felt like he was sitting on top of an unstable pulsar. Damage reports and emergency alerts filled up the margins of the main viewer, practically overlapping each other. The screen itself seemed to be caving inward, the images upon it warping like reflections in a funhouse mirror. The marauder turned into a distorted nightmare version of itself.

  “Captain!” Scotty blurted. “We’ve got to slow down. The engines can’t take it anymore.” A temporary imbalance between the warp nacelles sent the Enterprise lurching to port before Sulu leveled the ship out again. Subspace turbulence rocked the bridge. Another jarring tremor backed up Scotty’s agitated outburst. “I’m serious. I mean it this time!”

  Kirk believed him. The Enterprise sounded like it was on the verge of shaking itself apart. His ship had performed heroically, beyond all reasonable expectations, but even Kirk recognized that there were limits.
He’d pushed the ship as far as it could go.

  All right, he decided. No more running.

  “Reduce speed, Mister Sulu. Slow to impulse.” He gripped the armrest of his chair. “Habroz wants a fight? Let’s give him one.”

  “Hoo boy,” McCoy said. “Here we go again.”

  The inky blackness of ordinary space-time replaced the light-speed effect on the viewer. The distant stars were just pinpricks in a vast stygian expanse. Kirk hoped Spock’s improvised shields were up to the demands of a full-fledged space battle. To survive, the Enterprise would have to score a quick and decisive knockout. They were in no shape to go twelve rounds.

  “Mister Chekov, arm all phasers and torpedoes.”

  Before they could fire a single salvo, however, Uhura called out. “Captain! We’re being hailed. There’s another ship approaching!”

  Kirk looked up at the screen. Sure enough, a moving dot denoted the presence of a third vessel approaching them at warp speed. Within moments, it would be within firing range.

  What the devil? he thought. Now who are we dealing with? The Klingons? The Mavela? Had the O’Spakya circled around to intercept them somehow? Kirk feared he was once again outnumbered two to one.

  “Identify,” he demanded.

  Uhura flashed a dazzling smile. “It’s the Bellingham, sir! Responding to our distress call.”

  Kirk recalled Uhura sending out the message at the onset of the crisis, despite the Orions’ best efforts to jam the transmission. It seemed her efforts had paid off now that they were back in Federation space. The Bellingham, another Constitution-class starship, warped into view. Cheers greeted her appearance on the viewer. Kirk guessed that, aboard the Navaar, the reaction was considerably less enthused. He smirked at the screen.

  Now who was outnumbered?

  Thirty-one

  Kirk was impressed and relieved by the Bellingham’s timely arrival. Her captain, Sam Greer, must have pulled out all the stops to get to the outskirts of the Neutral Zone this quickly. Kirk watched with satisfaction as the other starship took up a defensive position alongside the Enterprise.

  “Tell Captain Greer I owe him dinner.”

  Uhura cheerfully carried out his order. “He says he likes Italian, sir.”

  “And the Navaar?” Kirk asked.

  “Retreating back toward the border,” Chekov reported. He sounded disappointed at being cheated out of another heated military engagement. “Looks like Captain Habroz doesn’t want to take us both on.”

  “Especially now that Doctor Seven is dead,” Sulu observed. Catching himself, he gave Kirk a sheepish look. “No disrespect to the deceased intended, sir.”

  “None taken,” Kirk assured him. “Your assessment is right on target. With Seven out of the picture, Habroz has much less incentive to risk an armed encounter with two Federation starships.”

  “And on our side of the border, no less,” McCoy commented.

  “Exactly,” Kirk said. He counted his lucky stars that they’d made it out of the Neutral Zone in time to rendezvous with the Bellingham; Captain Greer might have been reluctant to risk interstellar war by venturing into the Zone. One errant starship on a supposed rescue mission was bad enough. The Klingons would not have taken kindly to two Starfleet vessels waging battle against the Orions so close to their empire. Kirk wouldn’t have blamed Greer if he’d chosen to stay out of the restricted territory. And neither would have Starfleet. As is, Kirk suspected that he already had given the brass a few ulcers.

  Tough, he thought. Even though the Mavela’s distress signal had turned out to be a trap, Kirk didn’t regret his decision to go to their rescue. The Enterprise wasn’t about to turn her back on ships in trouble, not while he was captain. If he had to do it again, he’d make the same choice—just perhaps a little more warily next time.

  At least one diplomat seemed to agree with him. “For what it’s worth, Captain Kirk,” Santiago said, “I’ll vouch for you if there’s any question regarding your choice to enter the Neutral Zone. I can see now why Starfleet places so much faith in you and your crew. To be honest, I’m not so worried about the Federation’s security, now that I’ve seen the caliber of the people protecting us out here on the frontier.”

  “Thank you, Commissioner,” Kirk said graciously. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

  “How tragic what happened to Seven, though.” He gave Kirk an odd look, as though he had something else on his mind. “A painful, if sadly necessary, sacrifice.”

  “Yes,” Kirk said tersely, not wanting to talk about it. “We owe her our future.”

  “Captain,” Uhura said. “We’re being hailed.”

  “Captain Greer?” Kirk looked forward to thanking him personally.

  “No, sir,” Uhura said sourly, as though she just had bitten down on a piece of rotten fruit. “It’s Captain Habroz.”

  McCoy snorted. “Let him eat static.”

  “Not so fast, Bones.” Kirk appreciated the sentiment, but he was curious, too. “Let’s hear what he has to say.”

  Scotty made his opinion known. “Nothing worth hearing, I’ll wager. A bloody-handed scoundrel, that’s what he is.”

  “You’ll get no argument here,” Kirk said. “Just the same, put him through.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Uhura said without enthusiasm. “On-screen.”

  Habroz’s piratical visage appeared on the viewscreen. “Congratulations, Kirk. It seems your translator is working again.” The seething resentment in his tone and expression belied any attempt at civility. “Convenient, that.”

  “Yes,” Kirk said. “Very.”

  The Orion captain scowled. “I confess: This is not how I hoped to resume our conversation. I was looking forward to better making your acquaintance . . . in my brig. But it appears the Fates have outsmarted us all,” he said in a transparent attempt to save face. He obviously wanted to declare the match a stalemate. “Neither of us will benefit from the precious secrets Seven took with her to oblivion.”

  “Perhaps that’s just as well,” Kirk suggested. “To my mind, tomorrow belongs in the future, not here and now.”

  “There may be something to what you say, human. How boring it would be to know everything in advance.” Habroz sat solidly atop his throne, which looked a little worse for wear after the battle. Scratches and scorch marks defaced its formerly polished surface. The plush upholstery was torn. The mounted skull hung askew upon a wall, now missing its lower jaw. “In the meantime, I desire the return of my men . . . in the interests of preventing any further bloodshed.”

  “Don’t hold your breath.” Kirk had the upper hand now. The Orion boarding parties were already losing ground aboard the Enterprise. Now that the Bellingham had arrived to provide additional reinforcements, he had no doubt that they would be able to subdue the remaining invaders. “Your men will face charges for assault, piracy, terrorism, assassination, and the callous murder of Starfleet personnel.”

  He had not forgotten Bergstrom, Jadello, Tang, and every other member of his crew that had fallen victim to the Orions’ ruthlessness. Nor was he going to overlook the sneak attack on the oasis back on Yusub. Justice demanded that the raiders not be allowed to go their own way without retribution.

  “Easier said than done,” Habroz growled. “You will find that Orions do not surrender meekly in the face of unbeatable odds. They are proud of their manhood . . . and even prouder of their women. We would sooner die than shame ourselves in their eyes.”

  Kirk was not intimidated by his boasts. “And how are the Klingons going to feel about you disappointing them? Especially after they provided you with a cloaking device and free passage through the Neutral Zone?” The memory of Lieutenant Jadello disintegrating before his eyes burned in Kirk’s memory as he twisted the knife with his words. “Last I heard, the Klingons weren’t exactly forgiving of failure. . . .”

  Habroz’s green skin turned a shade paler. An involuntary shudder shook his beefy frame as he grasped how bleak his prospects had b
ecome. If nothing else, Habroz was going to be looking over his shoulder for what was likely to be a very short and uneasy life.

  “Now who has a price on his head?” Kirk gloated. “I wouldn’t be surprised if one of your fellow pirates turns you in for the bounty. If the Klingons don’t get to you first.”

  “Goddess curse you, Kirk!” Habroz raged. “May you and your crew fly into the path of a black star!”

  Kirk shrugged. “Been there, done that.”

  His furious visage vanished abruptly from the screen. An instant later, the Navaar dropped completely off the Enterprise’s sensors.

  “Well, that was rude,” McCoy commented. “Not so much as a proper good-bye.”

  “If I was him, I wouldn’t stick around either,” Chekov said. “Not this close to the Klingon border.”

  “He won’t get far,” Kirk predicted. “Want to bet that the Klingons built a tracking mechanism into that cloaking device they loaned Habroz?”

  “That would be a prudent precaution,” Spock agreed. “And the Klingons are not known for their trusting natures.”

  Kirk was counting on that. “Couldn’t happen to a nicer fellow.” He dismissed the fugitive Orion from his mind, confident that Habroz’s days of unrestricted piracy were over. “Now then, who wants to tell his men that their glorious leader has left them in the lurch?”

  • • •

  The Orions made their last stand in the lower reaches of the ship. Driven away from the bridge and engineering by Starfleet security forces, the remaining pirates holed up in the huge cavernous space. Grunting raiders shoved massive cargo containers across the bay to construct a makeshift fort. The durable steel drums scraped loudly against the floor. At the rear of the hold, a wall-sized duranium space door protected them from the killing vacuum outside.

  “Step lively, you mulish lummoxes!” Chotto shouted. The unlucky raider found himself in command of the stragglers, now that Master Chief Vaen had been blown apart by his own grenade. An improvised sling supported Chotto’s crippled right arm. A blood-stained bandage wrapped his skull like a bandana. He shook his only working fist at the laboring men. “Put your backs into it!”