The Fearful Summons

by Denny Martin Flinn

  "It won't be necessary, and I don't want to take the chance that an innocent civilian, even a Beta Promethean, gets hurt. We have to remember that the Federation is seen as one big monolith out here, and is going to take the blame for anything that might happen."

  "Unlike once we get back to San Francisco," Scotty suggested.

  "Where we'll all be court-martialed for operating without direct orders in a situation under the operational eye of the Federation. Is that what you're thinking," Kirk said.

  "It had occurred to me. Understand, Captain, I do nae wish to go out in a blaze of glory. But I would prefer to avoid being run out of Starfleet in a uniform of tar and feathers. Or spending any time on a prison planet."

  "Having second thoughts, Mr. Scott?"

  "No. But as long as we're out on a limb up here anyway, I wouldna mind blasting a few of these damn pirates who got us into this predicament."

  "I wouldn't either. I suppose that's why you and I wouldn't make very good bureaucrats. We might still get the chance, Scotty. But I'd prefer it to be a judgment in our hands, and not in the hands of these addlepated robots. Better their weapons are disarmed."

  "Dinna forget I've managed to rig two torpedoes up to this pleasure palace."

  "That's right. Let's hope they won't be necessary. What about power, Mr. Scott?"

  "There's enough to fire them both."

  "Good."

  "Or put up the shields."

  "I see."

  "Or get her up to warp speed," Scott said, frowning. Everyone was looking at him.

  "Dare I hope for two out of three?" Kirk said.

  "Nary a chance, Captain. The torpedoes and the shields alone are well beyond the specifications of this luxury tub to begin with."

  "I'll keep that in mind," Kirk said.

  "You'd better," Bones echoed.

  "That about does it, then," Kirk said.

  Everyone nodded and rose. As Kirk left the room, he glanced at the lead robot. "You know, this one does look an awful lot like Sulu."

  The little star yacht slid across the black sky on its way to an orbit over Archnos. Kirk had the main viewport opened, something he had seldom done in the past, and as they cruised toward what he knew would be their last desperate attempt to extricate Sulu and the others from their prison, he watched the scenery go by. Billions of stars, uncountable planets, he thought. How many more to explore? Another five-year mission? It would take a lifetime. It took mine. And we barely scratched the surface. I don't mind leaving the task incomplete. No, but I mind leaving it to others. How selfish of me. As if there weren't enough star systems to go around.

  He asked Uhura to record a transmission in the ship's memory bank and mark it for automatic sending at a later date, top-secret priority to Starfleet Headquarters, in the event the Princess lost life-support systems for more than twelve hours. Then he spoke out loud, so that everyone aboard the Princess could hear him.

  "Ship's Log. Stardate 9625.10. Captain James T. Kirk aboard the star yacht Plush Princess. This afternoon six members of the original crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise will attempt to extricate the eight Starfleet officers of the Starship Excelsior led by Captain Hikaru Sulu, who are being held in a prison on the surface of the planet Beta Prometheus 1, somewhere in the city of Archnos. We wish it to be known that we are acting entirely on our own, in direct violation of standing orders and regulations from Starfleet and the Council of the United Federation of Planets. We take this action in the full knowledge that it could jeopardize our standing as Starfleet officers. We have no choice, however. A fellow officer with whom we have served is in danger, and we have chosen loyalty to him over our duty to the Federation. Should something go wrong, Starfleet Headquarters will receive this message, by which we wish it to be known that we meant no disrespect to Starfleet, or to the United Federation of Planets."

  Kirk signaled to Uhura, who put the transmission in the communicator's memory banks.

  "That's about all for now, I suppose," he said quietly. "Well, there is one more thing. It's all happened quite fast. I don't think I ever got a chance to thank you all for your help," Kirk said quietly. Then he rose and headed for his bunk. As the others broke up, Uhura could be heard to say quietly, "You know, I think that was our first thanks in twenty-five years."

  "Imagine," Chekov said to her, "how much it means."

  When the Plush Princess arrived at the space coordinates Chekov had chosen as appropriately far enough away to avoid detection and close enough for a staging area, the ship glided to a stop and hung in space, its powerful engines quiet, and only intermittent thruster power keeping it in a stationary orbit automatically. Chekov, McCoy, and Kirk joined Spock in his cabin, and he began the laborious process of transforming them into Klingons. Scotty was down in the transport room making final programming adjustments to the robots. Uhura had gone downstairs to check on the small arms weapons they had aboard. Barbara was alone on the deck, monitoring the ship's geographical position. She scanned the skies around her, but there were no signs of any other starships nearby. She calculated the ship's reserve power systems.

  Then she walked over to Uhura's station and looked around. With no one else on the bridge, she sat down, and quickly typed a message out. She sent it off, and then she erased it from the ship's memory bank.

  She walked back to her own station. With nothing left to do but wait, she strolled up to the main viewscreen and gazed out across the skies to a tiny blip on the horizon that she knew to be Beta Prometheus 1. She called up a closer view. The large planet filled the screen. She ran a scan and saw the pattern of heavy populations clustered around only a few areas of the reputably inhospitable environment. She guessed which one was Archnos—the largest—and asked for an inset. She left the holographic reliefs on the screen and sat back in her chair, where she waited impatiently. She drummed her fingers on the side of the chair. Not unlike other conspirators with hidden loyalties, she was uncomfortable when given too much time to think about things.

  She was deep in her own thoughts when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She jumped. She turned around, and jumped again. Three hard-visaged Klingons were standing in a semicircle around her.

  "Well, do we pass?" she heard Kirk's distinctive voice coming from the one in the middle. "Come on, how do we look?"

  "Good," she stammered out. "Great. You all look great. No one will ever suspect you're not Klingons. Isn't it awfully hot under all that?" Barbara ventured.

  "Yes," McCoy said.

  "I have used a viscous application that should allow the pores to breathe freely," Spock said. "In any case, it is often below freezing on the surface of the planet at this point in their orbit."

  "It was hot as hell standing around that anti-Federation rally, I can tell you," Kirk said.

  "That was your nerves," Scotty said, as he appeared behind them, having come up from the engine room for a look.

  "How," Barbara asked, "did the six of you ever agree on anything during your twenty-five years together?"

  "We seldom did," Kirk said equitably. "We were usually too busy for discussions, however. Stations, everyone."

  Upstairs Barbara watched, marveling, as the three Klingons took their places around the small bridge.

  "Mr. Chekov, coordinates for stage two please," he said when everyone was settled.

  "On the screen," he answered. "Beaming distance."

  "Barbara, proceed with full thrusters,"

  "Proceeding, Captain."

  The ship shot forward and in minutes was cruising high above Archnos. Kirk and McCoy studied the map. Then Kirk turned around.

  "Scotty," he said. "Can you put us down about here?"

  "Aye, Captain."

  "Okay, Klingons," Kirk said. "Let's go."

  "There's the tower," Kirk said under his breath to McCoy. "If Scotty has put us down near the first target, then we have to go down this street until we come to a warehouse, then try to find a door which lines up with a Conclave."

  They f
ound the first building, a ramshackle two-story monolith faced with shiny metal of some kind that seemed to match Uhura's description. There were doors of one kind or another on all sides. They walked around it until they found a door that lined up with the roof of a Conclave behind the building. They turned around, and saw the communications tower in the sky. The whole layout was worth investigating. They watched the door from across the street, and found that a number of Beta Prometheans went in and out. Many seemed to be carrying oversized bags, as if they were bringing supplies of clothes and food.

  "This seems very promising," Kirk said.

  "Now what?" McCoy said.

  "We go inside, I think," Kirk said, and headed for the door. McCoy and Chekov followed.

  As they had seen others do, they simply strode up to the door and opened it. They stepped inside, trying to appear as if they knew where they were going.

  At once Kirk realized this was not where the hostages were being held.

  They could see the entire inside space of the large building. It was open from one wall to the other, and illuminated by large skylights in the ceiling. The large wooden floor they stood on was filled with Beta Prometheans, and music boomed out of speakers. There were mirrors lining the far wall, and everyone was facing them. In the front of a group of at least fifty, a Beta Promethean was leading them all through an exercise routine.

  Kirk and McCoy stood mesmerized at the sight of a herd of Beta Prometheans—all with the customary four legs—moving back and forth in unison to the beat of some sort of punktronic music.

  "Holy cow, Jim. Would you look at this," McCoy said. "It's a dance school. Or an exercise class of some sort. If Sulu is here, he's in great shape."

  Kirk turned and frowned at McCoy. "Uhura said there were stacks of transport containers just inside the door. That was only this morning, so they can't have moved all that. This can't be the building."

  As they turned to go, a male Promethean scuttled up to them from behind a desk.

  "Hello, you're early," the man called in a singsong voice. "This is the four-legged class. Two-legged alien aerobics isn't for another hour. But you can watch if you like."

  "Exercise?" McCoy said.

  "Thank you," Kirk said. "I think we'll come back."

  "Do. It's awfully good for your heart. I understand the Klingon diet is terribly fatty."

  "It's nails," McCoy said.

  "I beg your pardon?" the Promethean said.

  "Never mind. He's just grouchy," Kirk said quickly.

  "Of course. Hardening of the arteries. Too much meat. Not enough exercise. Come back in an hour. You'll feel much better."

  Kirk piloted McCoy out the door. McCoy had a difficult time tearing himself away from the sight of fifty Prometheans scuttling back and forth, their muscular arms swinging in rhythm.

  Outside, Kirk walked swiftly away from the building. McCoy caught up with him.

  "Couldn't be a front, I suppose?" he said.

  "Unlikely, Bones. It would take too many Prometheans, and then there's the building. It didn't look like they could hide much inside. That's all right, we have two buildings left to check out."

  He looked up at the buildings around them, tried to see himself on the holographic map they had studied.

  The three artificial Klingons from the star yacht Princess walked through the shadows of the city of Archnos on Beta Prometheus 1. It was freezing on the planet, but as they walked along a prearranged route toward the second building they had identified as a possibility, they began passing more and more Beta Prometheans, as well as various aliens and not a small number of Klingons. Chekov nodded as he passed a group of three Klingons. Two paid no attention to him, but one scowled back. After they had passed on by half a block, Kirk spoke in a low voice.

  "Mr. Chekov, Klingons aren't friendly. You don't have to say hello to anyone."

  "I forgot."

  They passed several militaristic-looking Klingons, but were not stopped. More suspicious were the Clerics, several groups of whom milled about the streets. They seem to be permanently suspicious, however, Kirk thought. I think they look at everyone that way. He saw the second warehouse up ahead. He led McCoy and Chekov around to the rear of the building. There was a door precisely as Uhura had described it. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the transmission tower at the correct angle. He saw the domed Conclave in the distance behind the door. Moreover, a number of armed Klingons stood in front of the door.

  "This must be it," Kirk said.

  Their makeup had fooled everyone so far, Kirk thought. Now they only had to get inside.

  And out again.

  He reached under his tunic and touched his communicator.

  "Kirk to Plush Princess. I believe we have found it. It's the second building. We are going in."

  Then without hesitation he led McCoy and Chekov directly up to the door. He flicked his Universal Translator on as they crossed the street. He walked directly up to the guard at the door.

  "Do you have the prisoners?" Kirk said in an authoritative voice.

  "Of course," the guard answered back.

  "Are they well guarded?" Kirk asked.

  "Of course they are," the Promethean said.

  Kirk began to wonder if he could keep up this conversation for long without seeming like an awful fool. He decided he couldn't, and opted to try to get inside.

  "We would like to see them," Kirk said, lowering his voice both for more authority and in the hope that not too many of the others overheard clearly.

  The guard hesitated.

  "That is not possible."

  "Tell Maldari we are here. We are—" Kirk had prepared the idea but even so hesitated, wondering how it would translate. "—the Klingon Council for Military and Espionage Matters. We have an interest in the spies you have secured, and wish to interrogate them."

  The guards looked Kirk and his crew over. Kirk looked straight back at the aliens, hoping to intimidate them.

  Just open the door, Kirk thought.

  Finally the older one nodded, and said to Kirk, "Wait here," then turned and pounded on the door. He shouted a few words, and it was opened from the inside by another Klingon. They exchanged words, and he stepped inside as the inside guard started to close the door. This is crucial, Kirk thought. I'll have to take the chance of getting shot right here. He put his hand out and kept the door from closing.

  Just a few more seconds, Kirk thought. "We need to see Maldari," he said. "We have come to interrogate the prisoners at the request of the Klingon High Council. We are the subcommittee for—"

  He didn't have to ad-lib any longer. At that moment a wild look came over the face of the Klingon left guarding the door, and Kirk knew that Scotty had timed it just right. He turned around.

  Eight uniformed Starfleet soldiers, all armed with phasers, had materialized in the street facing the warehouse.

  Kirk was the first to shout. "Federation soldiers! Shoot them!" he yelled, which he hoped was a reasonable command in either Beta Promethean or Klingon. At his words Chekov and McCoy drew their phasers out from underneath their tunics and began firing on the Starfleet soldiers. None of them hit their intended mark, a fact which, at least for the moment, seemed not to impress itself upon the Klingon guards. The other, authentic Klingons and Prometheans milling in the street were unarmed, and took cover once they understood the situation.

  The inside guard was pulling the door closed on Kirk when Kirk forcefully shouted "Attack them!" and wrenched the door open. At once the Klingon joined his comrade and both of them began firing on the Starfleet soldiers, who appeared to be firing back. None of the real Klingons taking cover behind the wall questioned the fact that the two Klingon guards seemed to be holding off the complete squadron themselves, with only single-shot, laser-driven assault weapons.

  As he disappeared inside, Kirk saw a couple of his Starfleet soldiers get shot and stagger back, but the others strode resolutely forward, firing, without the slightest effect. Chekov ran past th
e two guards and caught up with Kirk inside the warehouse.

  McCoy dove in last. He fired his phaser at one of the guards without looking directly at him, and passed into the building. Stunned, the guard fell to the street, and the phalanx of remaining Starfleet soldiers moved inexorably forward to the door, though, curiously, not quickly. The remaining guard looked at his companion, then turned to fire again at the oncoming enemy.

  Inside, Kirk slammed the door shut behind them. The three stood still for a second, their eyes adjusting to the dark. Kirk, looking at a picture in his mind Uhura had drawn for him, yelled "This way!" and headed along the corridor she had been led down earlier. He counted off the turns and exits. He stopped, turned left, and began running again. McCoy and Chekov were right behind him.

  Suddenly a dozen Klingons were running toward them, their weapons at the ready. Behind them Kirk saw a Cleric. They looked confused at the sight of the three Klingons in the prison. Kirk didn't hesitate.

  "There is a Starfleet war team outside, trying to get in! At least two dozen! Heavily armed!" he shouted over the explosions of gunfire outside. The Klingons stopped directly in front of them. "You've got to get the prisoners out of here before the soldiers break in!" Kirk went on hurriedly.

  One of them turned and shouted several commands. The Klingons broke up; half of the group pushed past Kirk and his crew and headed toward the door. The Cleric turned with the others and ran back along the corridor, Kirk, Chekov, and McCoy ran behind them.

  The motley group arrived at a door. Kirk could hardly contain his urgency. He forced himself to wait patiently behind the group as they hurriedly unlocked and opened the door. Then he followed them inside.

  Only Sulu was there. The Cleric hurried over to Sulu and brought him forward.

  "Where are the others?" Kirk shouted. No one answered. The Cleric was barking commands at the Klingon soldiers, and sending most of them back along the corridor toward the phaser fire.

  "Where is Maldari?" Kirk tried again. "Where are the other prisoners?"

  But the Cleric shouted more commands, and the remaining Klingons took Sulu and hurried him farther along the corridor, away from the prison. Kirk, McCoy, and Chekov ran after the fleeing Cleric and his Klingons, until they all arrived at another door on the far side of the warehouse. There they stopped. The Cleric barked something at one of the Klingons, and the Klingon opened the door cautiously. Then he threw it open wide and stepped out. It was dark outside, as the Promethean sun was in the sky only a few hours each day. There was no sign of Starfleet soldiers, and the Klingons stepped into the alley. The Cleric brought Sulu. Kirk and his team simply stepped through the door after them. Then Kirk spotted the shuttle parked in the shadows along the far wall. He saw the Cleric signal to the others, and the guards ran across the street toward their transportation.