by Diane Carey
In his knowledge of this, Zennor carefully said nothing
else.
The Dana moved slightly forward, so Zennor had no
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Diane Carey
choice but to look at him. "You told Vergokirk too much."
Evidently he was not so satisfied after all.
"That is my option as Vergobretos of the mission,"
Zennor said. "We have no reason to hide our past."
"You implied this may not be the right place." Gara-manus
lowered his voice. "The Danai have studied for
generations. You have been a mechanic in comparison. It
is not in your realm to decide what to do, but only when
to do it."
"I may not be Danai," Zennor said, "but I know the
sacrifice of our people. I will not have it wasted."
Garamanus hovered in place. "The crew is not sure
why you hesitate. These are the conquerors. Conquer
them."
"The crew will not agree to aggress against the innocent.
We have waited a hundred generations. We can
wait a day longer."
"You gave up advantage when you told him who we
"Others will not tell us who they are if we do not tell
them who we are. And Vergokirk took the first risk. Now
we will take one. Aralu, Fame, Rhod, Manann, you will
go with the Dana and me. Make the formation here
around me which they explained to us. Rhod, this way
another step. We must be correct. Very good. Aesh,
maintain defender status until we contact you. Fame,
signal to them that we are ready."
The transporter room seemed unaccountably bright
after the auramine bridge of the other ship. Fresh air
flooded into their lungs in place of the pungent, moldy
stuff they'd been breathing for the past few minutes.
Leonard McCoy plunged off the platform and let out a
huffing breath and brushed at his sleeves as if to cast
away hidden weevils. "I felt like all my granddad's
stories came to life before my very eyes! That bridge was
like a cross between a temple and its catacombs. And 128
FIRST STRIKE
I've never seen a crew like those people before. Did all
that make you as nervous as it made me?"
Not once they spoke up." Jim Kirk followed his
surgeon off the platform and reached over the transporter
console to the comm. "It's when they won't speak that
I get nervous. Kirk to environmental sciences."
"Environmental. Ensign Urback speaking, sir."
"Adjust the ship's temperature up by eight degrees
and increase humidity to ninety-five percent relative."
"Are you cold on the bridge, sir?"
"Visitors coming aboard, Ensign."
"Oh--right, sir, sorry, sir."
"And inform the crew so nobody tries to repair it."
"Right away, sir."
"Carry on. Kirk out. Lieutenant, did you get anything
out of that?"
Uhura blinked her dark eyes. "Only that I don't
believe 'Wrath' is what we think it is. I do think it's their
ship, but I'd like to zero in on the translation. And I'd
like to work on the terminology 'Vergo' and 'Dana." I
could also run the visuals of those carvings and their
clothing and jewelry through the library computer. I may
be able to have something for them when they get here.
Assuming, sir, you want me to help them."
"Until we have a reason to oppose them, we should
help them. Do it from sickbay. Give your tricorder to
Spock and let him get what he can out of it."
"Aye, sir."
"And dismiss the watch. Send them to breakfast. I
want a fresh team on duty while these people are
visiting."
"Aye, sir," she said, and stepped between the two
guards without a glance at either of them.
Kirk waved to the guards. "Security, stand by in the
corridor."
"Aye, sir."
"Aye aye, sir."
He swung to the transporter officer. "Mr. Kyle, pre-
129
Diane Carey pare the transporter to bring aboard six visitors from the
bridge of the other vessel. I told them what to do and
they should be in position in another minute."
"Aye, sir," the lanky blond lieutenant said, then politely
attended to his console and didn't look up again.
That was one of the things Kirk liked about Kyle--his
"ignore" mode. Sometimes a transporter room needed
to be as intimate as the captain's office, and a transporter
officer with discretion was worth his weight in precious
metals.
Kirk stepped around the console to the auxiliary
screen, where one tap pulled up an unassuring view of
Zennor's massive ship and two of the Klingon vessels.
"Captain," McCoy began, "I know you like to bring
'visitors' aboard because there's less chance of their
taking potshots at the ship with their own people aboard,
but, if you don't mind my asking, are you out of your
mind?"
"Probably." Kirk gazed at the ships. "But I know how I'd like to be treated and they reminded me of us."
"Only if 'us' are looking in a fun-house mirror."
"It's their similarities to us you're reacting to."
The doctor scowled. "Pardon me?"
"The scariest aliens are the ones who are distortions of
ourselves. We look at them and see something vaguely
familiar. An upright silhouette, the same kind of
movements... arms and legs, mouths, an eye or two
... a verbal language. Aliens like the horta or the
Melkots aren't as frightening because they're so completely
unlike us. It's those like Zennor and his crew that
shake us up, and all because we see a glaze of something
we recognize that's been stretched out of shape. Once we
get over that, we can look at the similarities for what
they are."
McCoy folded his arms and canted his head. "That's
what's different about you, Captain."
Kirk looked at him. "About me? I don't follow."
"Yes," the doctor sighed. "No matter how far out we
go, or how much space separates us from somebody else,
130 FIRST STRIKE
you always see how we're all alike instead of how we're
all different. And you talk to strangers as if you've
known them a year. That's what sets you apart from me
and Spock and all the rest of us. Even from the other
starship captains. Everybody else goes out into space
expecting to see things that are alien and weird. You look
at the alien and weird, and you see a piece of us."
Basking in the compliment, somewhat embarrassed
that there wasn't a veiled insult in there somewhere,
Kirk leered at him. "You're a frustrated psychoanalyst,
McCoy."
The doctor tightened his arms and bounced on his
toes. "I'm not frustrated at all."
"Those skulls over there... you're still sure they were
real? Not just decor?"
"Dead sure. Ah--bad choice of words."
"Noted. I want you to check on Spock now, while we
have the chance."
"Yes, I intended to do that."
"Do it right away. Mr. Kyle, hail the bridge and
&
nbsp; inform General Kellen that we're having visitors from
the other vessel. Have Security escort him down here if he feels like facing his fears."
"Yes, sir."
"Then clear the board and energize Let's take the bull by the--uh--" '
"Sir?"
"Just bring them over."
131
Chapter Ten
"AH, GENERAL."
The corridor suddenly turned burlesque with possibilities
as Jim Kirk led the vagabond demons out of the
transporter room.
Kellen said absolutely nothing. Behind him, two Security
guards stood at attention, but they couldn't keep the
shock out of their faces at the diabolical creatures
following their captain.
Impressive in his tense stillness, Kellen stood with his
thick arms tight to his barrel-like body, the wide silver
tunic shimmering under the corridor's soft lighting.
Only now did Kirk notice that the general had left his
body armor behind when he'd beamed aboard. A convenience?
Or a gesture of some kind that Kirk had failed to
read? Too late now, if so.
The big Klingon didn't move a muscle, but there was
abject horror plastered on his face as he stared at the
gaggle of visitors, his eyes growing large. He stood dead
still, his lips pressed into a line, and glared with all the
appeal of a broadax.
Kirk slowly--perhaps too slowly--led the way toward
132 FIRST STRIKE
the general, hoping the extra seconds would give them
time to get used to each other, and was gratified when
Zennor, Garamanus, and their crew followed him like a
clutter of travel-stained gypsies.
He stood to the side and gestured between the general
and the aliens, and hoped for the best.
"General, this is Zennor, Vergo of the Wrath, "he said,
careful of pronunciation. "Vergo Zennor, may I introduce
General Kellen of the Klingon Imperial High
Command."
Sometimes it could be that simple. Just introduce
them. Push them past that bump, and maybe there'd be
communication.
"You are allies?" the ghostly Dana asked, his voice a
growling sound that engulfed the corridor and startled
the Security team.
"We are not allies," Kellen quickly said. He seemed to
be making good on his promise to be ashamed of having
asked for Kirk's help in the first place and having it all
come to this, a pointless parlay in a ship's corridor. "You
must turn around and return to the depths from which
you emerged. We will fight you if you do not."
"General," Kirk interrupted sharply, "they're my
guests at the moment. I brought them here so you could
see firsthand what you were attacking, in hopes that an
understanding might come about."
"I already understand them," Kellen snapped back.
"They are the Havoc. The tainted souls released from
imprisonment, returned to torture us with their poisons.
Look at them!"
Furiously he pointed at the being with the white
tendrils on its head, then at the tall thin one behind
Zennor with expanding skin flaps that moved in and out
with the appearance of wings.
"Iraga!" he belted. "Shushara!"
"Yes, I see them," Kirk said, and stepped between
Kellen and the visitors. "Are you prepared to strike up a
dialogue?"
"There is no dialogue, Captain," Kellen ground out.
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Diane Carey
"I came here to destroy them before they destroy all of
us. If you will be this foolish, then I will take my leave of
you and return to my flagship."
Kirk squared off before the general's wide form.
"You'll stay here until the sector is secured."
"Are you holding me hostage?"
"I'm holding you to your agreement to stay here until I
decide the situation is no longer volatile. Ensign Brown,
escort the general back to the VIP quarters and maintain
watch there."
It was a polite way of telling the ensign to stand guard
and keep the Klingon under house arrest. Brown glanced
at him, then snapped to attention.
"Aye, sir!" the guard's deep voice boomed. "This way,
General." A meaty six-footer, Brown stepped aside to let
Kellen pass by, and it seemed for a moment that the
corridor was filled from wall to wall with just Kellen and
the guard.
Kirk hoped it wasn't too obvious that he had picked
the bigger of the two ensigns to stand guard over Kellen.
He wanted to make a point, but not to be rude. Not yet,
anyway.
"Ensign Fulciero, please conduct our visitors on a
general tour of the primary section and labs. Inform Mr.
Scott and request he show them around main engineering."
The other ensign nodded, still wide-eyed. He held out
a hand, gesturing down the corridor. "This way...
please..."
Turning to Zennor, Kirk held out his own hand, in the
opposite direction.
"My quarters, Captain," he invited. "We'll have a
chance to talk privately."
Without the gawkings of my crew or the hauntings of
your Dana.
He was glad there were relatively few crewpeople
striding the corridors. The few they did pass managed to
choke back their shock at Zennor's size and volcanic
appearance, but Kirk was relieved to finally usher the
134
FIRST STRIKE
alien commander into his quarters and have the door
whisper shut behind them. He hoped Scott would warn
his engineers that there were visitors coming and prepare
them for just what that could mean in deep space.
Then again, the chief engineer would probably do his
share of gawking. Scott didn't trade much in discretion.
"Excuse me one moment," he said, and tapped the
desk comm. "Kirk to sickbay."
"Sickbay, Nurse Chapel."
"Nurse, is Dr. McCoy still down there?"
"Yes, sir. He's with Mr. Spock. I'll get him. One
moment, please."
"Standing by."
He let quiet settle as he waited and as Zennor moved
away from him and looked around the quarters. There
was a constant aura about Zennor, a sense of omen,
perhaps, and a sound in the back of Kirk's head like a
tuning of cellos before a performance of Faust. He had
no idea what he was sensing, but in this creature and
those others, there was a sorcerous spirit of the familiar.
"Captain," Kirk began, "if you'll look at the computer
screen on the desk, I'll call up a visual tour of the
starship and other Starfleet vessels. You can adjust the
speed with that dial on the side of the monitor."
Zennor turned to the desk, and Kirk keyed up the
program, careful to call up the nonsensitive data tour,
the one reserved for dignitaries without telling too
much. Then he edged away to let the ship show itself off.
"McCoy here."
He blinked and shook his attention back to the comm.
"Bones, how's Spock? Any better?"
"He's no le
ss stubborn. I was hoping to have that organ
removed, but I don't have a long enough drill."
"Give me a report, please."
'I've reduced the level of antigrav and begun to put
weight on his spine again. If there any more swelling
around the disks, I'll have to increase it again."
Kirk let his chin drop a little as his gut twisted. Like
the first gnawings of space sickness in his teenage years,
135
Diane Carey
the feeling of being without anchorage rushed in. "Has
he had a chance to review the information Lieutenant
Uhura brought back?"
"Yes," McCoy said, "and he wants to go over it with
you at your earliest convenience."
"Understood. Tell him I'll be there soon."
"Yes, Captain. Lieutenant Uhura says she has a few
things for you also."
"Very well. Kirk out."
He cut off the comm before McCoy had a chance to
give any details. The doctor didn't know Zennor was
here, and Kirk wasn't ready to tip any of his hand.
Zennor continued to gaze at the computer screen as it
scrolled--damned fast--before him. He had it on full
speed and was apparently soaking up all it could give in
spite of the fact that Kirk could barely make out the
photos at that speed. "Your ship is clever. Many technologies
we have not thought of. You and this Klingon...
you are enemies?"
"Yes, traditionally we're enemies. Occasionally we
have an uneasy truce, as we do today."
"Strange that you would be enemies. You are so much
the same."
"You see no difference between Kellen and me?"
"No difference between any of you. You, your crewmen,
your Klingon..."
"There's a big difference between us and the Klingons,"
Kirk said, letting flare a touch of defense. "For