by Tony Daniel
Kirk turned to Spock. “Who have we got that’s a twenty-second-century scholar, Mister Spock?”
“I believe Lieutenant Julia Tanner is an expert in that era, Captain.”
“Uhura, report on what we’ve found. I want to know everything she can tell us about the days of the L’rah’hane piracy.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Have Doctor McCoy, Mister Scott, and Lieutenant Tanner report to the briefing room in twenty minutes. You and Mister Spock will join us. I’ll want a full situation report.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Also, prepare a drone to send to the edge of the nebula. I’ll dictate a report for Starfleet Command for subspace transmission. We want them to know what we’re doing in here, since we can’t communicate with them directly due to the subspace interference.”
“Drone already in the launch tube,” said Uhura with a slight smile. “As soon as the nebula began to block our subspace communications, it seemed like a good idea to have it ready for immediate deployment.”
“Good call, Lieutenant,” Kirk replied. After handing off the bridge to Sulu, he quickly made his way to his quarters to compose his report.
Kirk reflected that he might have dictated his report on the bridge, but he planned to include a few pointed words as to his not being informed of whatever was going on at what was supposed to be a regular science outpost on Zeta Gibraltar.
* * *
Lieutenants Tanner and Uhura were engaged in a deep discussion when Kirk and Spock entered the conference room. Scott was present. McCoy was there as well, clearly chafing at being pulled away from his sickbay. Kirk’s intuition told him he might need the doctor’s advice very soon, however.
Kirk sat down at the head of the triangle-shaped table.
“Report. What do we have?”
“The language is not classic L’rah’hane, but a variant dialect,” said Lieutenant Tanner. She was a petite woman in a blue science officer’s uniform. Her most exceptional feature was her lustrous eyes. Kirk reflected that she must have thought so, too. She’d surrounded them with a line of dark eyeliner of an almost ancient-Egyptian thickness. “The L’rah’hane pirates roamed a large portion of the Alpha Quadrant in their day. They were taken on and resoundingly defeated in 2173. It was believed that all spacefaring technology available to them had been destroyed. Obviously we need to modify that supposition.” Tanner nodded toward the triviewer, where she clicked through several blurry photographs and an artistic rendering of the L’rah’hane. They were generally humanoid in appearance, but their noses were turned upward and possessed a triad of nostrils.
Shouldn’t judge by appearances, Kirk thought. But they do look a bit like pigs.
“The L’rah’hane were not a creative species. Instead, they specialized in either begging or stealing the technology of others. According to the few records they kept, they had originally come from a pre-warp planet when some hapless visitor crash-landed his ship. Although their homeworld was never located, after the defeat in 2173, it was believed that the L’rah’hane homeworld contained all that remained of the species. Considering their technological level, sector quarantine was deemed suitable.”
“Another assumption we are going to be modifying.”
“Lieutenant Tanner explained something else to me, Captain,” Uhura said, cutting in. “The L’rah’hane weren’t merely pirates. Primarily, they were slavers.” She pronounced this last statement with disgust in her voice. “They raided worlds with their stolen technology, took away entire shiploads of the natives as slaves, and sold them.”
“Sold them to whom?”
“To the highest bidder,” Tanner answered. “Another unexplained datum, Captain. The ships the L’rah’hane operated were believed to be the last remnants of the Hradrian navy.”
“But the Hradrian Empire hasn’t existed since the twenty-first century. It was in ruins seventy-five years ago,” said Kirk.
“This is quite true,” Spock said. “There are Hradrian ruins on a broad swath of worlds across the entire Alpha Quadrant. The empire was at its zenith during Earth’s twentieth and twenty-first centuries. It had a rapid decline and fall during Earth’s twenty-second century.” Spock cocked his head in a reflective pose. “It is fortunate that Hradrians never happened upon your home system, Captain. There would have been little chance that human technology of the time would have stood up to Hradrian firepower.”
“That’s very true,” said Tanner. “The Hradrian Empire was based on forced labor of multiple species—slavery, in other words. Machinery and automation were kept in the hands of the upper class and ruling castes so that they could retain power. It was a system that functioned for several centuries.”
“But the slaves ultimately rebelled, as I remember. It brought down the empire.”
“In truth, Captain, that is one of the big questions of Hradrian scholarship,” said Tanner. “Did the empire fall because of a slave revolt, or were there revolts because the empire was crumbling?”
“So the L’rah’hane flew Hradrian ships, but the Hradrians were also their best customers,” Kirk offered.
“Exactly,” said Uhura.
“Toward the end of the Hradrian Empire, they existed in a sort of social symbiosis,” Tanner continued. She was beginning to grow a bit breathless, her enthusiasm for her subject coming to the fore. “From what we have pieced together from the Hradrian archives, the L’rah’hane pirate lanes fit neatly into the remains of the Hradrian Empire. As the empire crumbled, the L’rah’hane preyed on Hradrian outlying worlds to provide slaves to the worlds on the interior.” Tanner looked at Kirk imploringly. “Captain, we have an amazing opportunity for study. Those L’rah’hane ships are new and they are very likely Hradrian in origin. That means there must be a remnant of the Hradrian Empire somewhere beyond the Vara Nebula, perhaps close by.”
McCoy looked like he was about to come out of his seat, so agitated was he. “Need I remind you, Lieutenant, that the Hradrians were not merely notorious slaveholders, they got rid of their elderly slaves in centralized concentration camps? I remember my history, too, and from every record the Hradrians left behind, we can infer that the empire was a vicious state built on coercion of innocent beings.”
Tanner seemed taken aback. She hadn’t been ready for a full broadside from the ship’s doctor.
But, damn it, McCoy was right. The only reason Kirk could imagine that he’d like to rediscover the Hradrian empire would be to free its slaves and kill its leaders in horrible ways. This, he realized, was a violation of the Prime Directive.
“Captain,” Spock put in, “the L’rah’hane, and not the Hradrians, are our present problem.”
“Well, if they are these L’rah’hane pirates, then there’s hope the outpost staff is alive,” McCoy stated. “Assuming they were taken in a slave-gathering raid, then the L’rah’hane wouldn’t want to murder the merchandise.”
“Precisely,” said Spock. “If the L’rah’hane still traffic in interspecies slavery, perhaps the outpost personnel are to be sold as chattel. We may also find them gathered in one place.”
“Agreed,” said Kirk. “Put together an armed landing party to go down to that asteroid, and let’s look around for our missing colonists.”
“Transporting is going to be a wee bit tricky, sir,” said Scott. “With conditions in this nebula, I highly recommend taking a shuttlecraft.”
“Agreed, Mister Scott. In the meantime that ship, whatever its captain’s motives are, can’t be allowed to go anywhere. We’ll have to see to that with tractor beams. If those won’t work, we’ll use phasers only as a last resort, as that would surely give away our position in the nebula cloud.”
“Aye, sir, I’ll direct all auxiliary energy to the tractor beams,” said Scott. “I believe we can hold that ship, if it comes to it.”
“We’ll also need to sweep the surrounding area for more vessels. I don’t want to get a nasty surprise that—”
A loud blast from the ship�
��s intraship. It was the alarm that announced a ship-wide red alert!
Kirk thumbed an intraship set in the center of the conference room table. “Mister Sulu, report!”
“Captain, the nebula detritus is no longer concealing us to their sensors. We have been detected and are under attack. Four pirate vessels approaching. Their weapons are hot, sir, and they are deploying torpedoes.”
“Shields to maximum,” Kirk immediately responded. “On our way.” Kirk paused a moment, considering. “Sulu, whatever you do, do not, I repeat, do not destroy those ships!”
Four
The firefight was intense and energetic despite the Enterprise’s technological advantage. The L’rah’hane weapons were no match for the Enterprise’s shields. Any normal fight would have been a foregone conclusion. The pirates’ defenses, however, were considerably more advanced than their offensive weapons.
The L’rah’hane also understood how to fight in groups.
Three ships closed in on the Enterprise in an even distribution, while the fourth, the one containing one of the bickering parties as heard over the radio, broke away from the asteroid and attempted to get in a position behind the Enterprise.
They increased their ragged laser fire, achieving a concentration but not quite succeeding in synchronizing. The Enterprise shields absorbed these shots easily. More worrisome were the nuclear torpedoes. Nuclear explosions could bring down a starship’s shields in time—although it would take a great many more than the L’rah’hane had yet deployed. Sulu’s phasers were kept busy blasting these to pieces before they came within damaging range.
The main problem is that I can’t outright destroy them, Kirk thought. There may be Federation personnel held captive on those ships. We’ve got to shoot to disable.
Shooting a starship in exactly the right spot could be done. The first problem was to identify a vulnerable system on the enemy vessel.
Kirk had Spock busily working on that.
The other problem was range. Even the highly concentrated beams of phasers spread slightly at distance. What Sulu needed was a target range of about ten thousand kilometers—that is, extremely close range for a space battle, and a position into which no sane captain would allow his ship to be drawn.
But these were bloody-minded pirates. Which gave Kirk an idea.
“Mister Chekov, establish coordinates for the thickest, most dangerous portion of the nebula that’s closest to us.”
“Yes, sir,” replied the ensign. “Got it, Captain.”
“Take us there.”
“Sir?” But the hesitation was only in the helmsman’s voice, not in his actions. Chekov’s hands were already guiding the controls to obey his captain’s orders.
“Be careful, Mister Chekov. We don’t want to let a stray meteoroid do the job these pirates are trying to do on us.”
“Aye, sir.”
Now the bucking and pounding grew more intense. It was possible to avoid some of the debris in the region into which Chekov was turning, but not all of it. This was no dust cloud with the occasional rocky body either. There were some ship-sized chunks of aggregated matter slamming against the shields of the Enterprise.
“Steady as she goes.”
“Captain, your gambit appears to have worked,” said Spock from his science station. “The L’rah’hane vessels are turning and following us and closing range so as to keep us in sight in this denser region.”
Sometimes it seemed to Kirk as if he and Spock actually shared some sort of continuing mind-meld. But the explanation was simpler. Clearly his first officer had reasoned out Kirk’s move the moment the captain had initiated it.
“Have you isolated the L’rah’hane vulnerable systems?”
“Just completed,” said Spock. “Their engine cooling system has a distinct weakness. A direct shot into the manifold vents should initiate a shutdown of propulsion without unduly endangering the ship’s life support.”
“How big are those vents, Mister Spock?”
“Two square meters,” Spock replied. “I have routed the configuration to weapons.”
“You hear that, Mister Sulu. You have a target about the size of a dinner table, and you have to make it from at the very least ten thousand kilometers, possibly more. Think you can hit it?”
Sulu nodded. His helmsman and weapons officer was extremely civilized, but Kirk knew Sulu revered and made a particular study of his samurai ancestors. He was certain he saw Sulu’s lip quirk in a slight smile of warrior-like anticipation. “I’ll give it my best shot, sir.”
“Ships one and three at two hundred kilometers,” Spock called out. “Ships two and four closing to one hundred kilometers.”
“Let them get a little closer, Mister Sulu. We want all of them in range.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Fifty thousand meters and twenty thousand. Another nuclear device has been deployed by ship one.”
“On it,” said Sulu as he deftly blasted the nuke into molecules.
“Ranges on L’rah’hane vessels in meters: twenty thousand, twelve, eleven, ten thousand . . .” said Spock.
“Do you have them all, Mister Sulu?”
“Got them, Captain.”
“Fire at will, Mister Sulu.”
“Aye, sir.”
What followed was a virtuoso performance by the helmsman and weapons officer. There was only so much telemetry a ship’s sensors and computer could provide. There remained, inevitably, a terrible art to wielding the mighty weapon of a starship phaser. It was almost as if Sulu were thrusting his phasers in the precise strikes of an expert with the fencing foil and épée—weapons of which, Kirk knew, Sulu was in fact a master.
Flashes on the viewscreen as three ships were hit in turn. The fourth was struck, but either the shot had failed to strike the cooling manifold, or the ship had a slightly different construction. It came hard about almost immediately.
“L’rah’hane vessels one, two, and three dead in space,” said Spock. “Ship four remains operational and is withdrawing.”
“Oh, no you don’t,” Kirk said to the viewscreen image of the fleeing L’rah’hane. “Mister Chekov, follow that ship.”
“Aye, sir.”
The escaping ship streaked away through the nebula gases, seemingly heedless of its own danger of striking debris and breaking up. This was the ship that had been communicating with the asteroid base, and Kirk was fairly certain that if Federation personnel were still alive, some would likely be on that ship.
Despite the head start of the L’rah’hane ship, the Enterprise was rapidly closing. After a few moments, Uhura spoke up from her station.
“Sir, we are receiving a signal from the L’rah’hane ship. There’s a visual as well.”
“Are they trying to communicate with us?”
“I don’t believe so, sir. It’s a broadcast feed, perhaps a distress call sequence has been tripped.”
“Put it on-screen, Lieutenant.”
At first, all that was visible was a blur of moving bodies. It was difficult to make out exactly what was going on, but there were several of the bright yellow L’rah’hane struggling against what appeared to be human beings. Suddenly the contorted visage of what might be the L’rah’hane pirate leader, his upturned nose and three nostrils flaring, filled the whole viewscreen. He must be directly in front of the pick-up.
Tanner’s records had not quite done the alienness of the L’rah’hane justice. It wasn’t just the nose. The pirate’s multiply folded, batlike yellow face was twisted in rage, and his blood-red teeth, either filed to points or naturally occurring that way, were bared as he snarled.
And then, there was a loud crack, a distinctly odd sound that Kirk half recognized, and the look of rage on the face of the L’rah’hane turned to surprise. He stumbled, and gazed down at his chest.
By stepping backward, the rest of the L’rah’hane had come into view. There was a hole in his chest about where the heart would be in a human, and he was leaking a purplish fluid th
at might be L’rah’hane blood.
That’s an exit wound, Kirk thought. And then he realized where he knew the sound. Gunpowder. That was the sound of an old-fashioned projectile weapon being fired.
The L’rah’hane pirate reeled backward, but then, when it had almost covered up the device’s field of vision, a bubbly froth of blood emerged from the pirate’s distended nostrils. The L’rah’hane collapsed downward and fell out of view.
Behind the fallen slaver stood a tall human being. He was dressed in a long blue coat and a white shirt.
And on his head . . . a wig. There was a line of separation where the forehead met the hairline, and no doubt that this thing upon the person’s head was an artificial creation.
It was long, gray, and drawn back and tied behind the neck with what looked like a black ribbon.
Like the portrait Kirk had seen, here was another man wearing eighteenth-century dress—but this man was very much alive and kicking.
“What the blazes,” Kirk murmured. He blinked, making sure he was actually seeing what he thought he was seeing. In that moment, another L’rah’hane launched itself at the man, and he tumbled out of view, struggling with the pirate for his life.
Then the two rose up, now in profile. The man in the wig had drawn a long vibro-knife—
No, thought Kirk. That’s no knife. That’s a sword.
The pirate was the one with the knife. It was long, curved, and serrated—designed to maim as well as kill. The L’rah’hane thrust, but the man quickly stepped to the side and the knife whizzed by and missed. As the L’rah’hane attempted to withdraw and strike again, the man shifted his weight forward and crashed into the pirate with the sword’s hilt. The pirate leaped back to regain its balance. In that moment, it flung its bright yellow arms wide, exposing its chest.
The man wasted no chance in taking advantage of the opening. With a hard thrust, and a grunt of effort, he ran the L’rah’hane through with the sword.
Purple blood welled around the wound entry point.
The pirate let out a great shriek. But the sword had probably cut through what passed for a lung in the L’rah’hane, and its shriek became a ragged, nearly airless rasp.