STAR TREK: TOS #85 - My Brother's Keeper, Book One - Republic

by Michael Jan Friedman

  At least, that was how it looked at first. Then one of the abductors came out again and sat on a barrel beside the door, as if to pass the time of day. In reality, of course, he had been posted as a lookout.

  Kirk took in the situation at a glance, then withdrew behind a decorative piece of wall. “It looks like this is where they’re going to hole up,” he observed.

  Mitchell took a look for himself. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  “We should go for help,” the lieutenant said.

  “That was the plan,” the underclassman agreed.

  But now that they were actually about to execute it, [189] his expression had changed. He seemed to have his doubts.

  “What is it?” asked Kirk.

  Mitchell shook his head. “The more I think about it,” he said, “the less confidence I have that Ar Bintor’s security people are trained to deal with hostage situations.”

  The lieutenant looked at him. The man was right, of course. “They’ll wind up surrounding the place ...”

  “At which point the kidnappers will either bide their time ...”

  “Or kill the telepath,” Kirk acknowledged.

  “Either way,” said Mitchell, “they’ll screw up the ceremony.”

  The lieutenant nodded thoughtfully. “Then it’s up to us.”

  “Once again.”

  Kirk took a moment to consider their next move. One thing was clear to him—they needed more information.

  “I’d say a little reconnaissance is in order,” he said.

  “I’d say you’re right,” Mitchell replied.

  “You scout around to the left,” the lieutenant decided, “and I’ll scout to the right. We’ll rendezvous back here.”

  “Got it,” said the plebe.

  Several minutes later, they returned to the decorative piece of wall. Mitchell didn’t look as if he had found anything particularly encouraging. But then, neither had Kirk.

  “The only easy way in,” the lieutenant observed, “is through the front door—but I think that Heiren [190] sitting on the barrel is going to have something to say about that.”

  Mitchell grunted. “You think so?”

  “On the other hand,” said Kirk, ignoring the remark, “I saw some third floor windows on my side of the building. They looked big enough to climb through ... if there was any way to get to them.”

  The underclassman looked intrigued. “I found a drainpipe on the other side of the building. There were no windows, and the street there wound up in a dead end. But ...”

  The lieutenant saw what Mitchell was getting at. “If we can get up the drainpipe, then come down on the other side of the roof ...”

  “We can get to the windows you found.” The plebe frowned. “But to reach the drainpipe, we’ll still have to get past the guard. If he sounds the alarm, the jig’ll be up.”

  “So we’re back to square one,” said Kirk.

  “Looks that way.”

  The upperclassman swore beneath his breath. There had to be a way to get into that dead-end street.

  If there had been a crowd in the square, he mused, they might have made their way through it without being noticed and reached the street that way. However, the plaza was nearly deserted, with only a few pedestrians belatedly making their way to the celebration in the center of town.

  Mitchell sighed. “I’m sure if that guard understood the magnitude of our problem, he’d look the other way.”

  “No doubt,” the lieutenant gibed back. “On the [191] other hand, he might think it rude of us to come calling now. He and his friends have abducted someone of importance. They probably want some time to make their captive comfortable before they start thinking about entertaining visitors.”

  The underclassman looked at him with feigned surprise. “Was that by any chance a joke?”

  Kirk grunted. “Lord help me, I guess it was.”

  “Looks like I’m beginning to rub off on you.”

  “Lucky me,” said the lieutenant.

  The two of them pondered their problem some more. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to get them anywhere.

  “You know,” Mitchell pointed out, “if we wait too long, even rescuing the telepath won’t save the ceremony.”

  “That occurred to me,” said Kirk.

  “So we’ve not only got to get across the square without being seen, we’ve got to do it quickly.”

  “Piece of cake,” the lieutenant responded sarcastically.

  “Sure,” said Mitchell. “We’re two highly trained Starfleet cadets. There’s nothing we can’t do if we put our minds to it.”

  “Nothing,” Kirk echoed ironically.

  Neither of them said anything for a moment or two.

  “So,” asked Mitchell, “you have anything in mind yet?”

  “Not a thing,” the lieutenant replied.

  “Me, either.”

  “But I haven’t stopped working on it,” Kirk assured him.

  [192] Then the upperclassman heard a sound behind them ... a distant rumbling that echoed from building to building in the narrow street. Turning to find the source of it, he spotted a big, bulky wagon up the hill. It was trundling its way toward them, bouncing along on the cobblestones.

  In accordance with Heir’at’s strictures against modern technology, the thing was pulled by two beasts of burden—each one a pale, smooth-skinned brute with a triangular head, six heavy legs, and a set of curved horns protruding from its shoulders. The cargo was stored in the back of the wagon under a thick, lashed-down layer of hide.

  Suddenly, it hit him. “I’ve got an idea,” Kirk told his companion.

  “A way to get to the drainpipe?” Mitchell asked.

  “Uh-huh.” The lieutenant pointed to the wagon. “And there it is.”

  Mitchell looked at him. “Are we going to knock out the driver? Or take the time to bribe him with something?”

  “Neither,” said Kirk. “In fact, if we play our cards right, he’ll never know he’s the key to our plan.”

  The plebe looked skeptical. “If you say so.”

  Of course, there was only a fifty-fifty chance that the lieutenant’s scheme would get them access to the drainpipe, considering that the wagon would have to turn one way or the other when it got to the square. But to Kirk’s mind, fifty percent was better than nothing.

  “Come on,” he said. “Our carriage awaits.”

  Then he led Mitchell up the incline of the street, [193] staying to the shadows along the buildings’ eastern walls. It only took them a couple of minutes to pass the wagon and its unsuspecting driver, who darted a curious look at them as they went by.

  “I thought that was our carriage,” the plebe whispered.

  “It is,” the lieutenant confirmed.

  Making certain the driver didn’t notice, he turned and caught up with the wagon. Then he untied one of the lashings that held its cargo in place and beckoned to Mitchell.

  The underclassman didn’t hesitate. He followed Kirk, clambered in under the piece of hide, and held it up for the other man to do the same. The lieutenant joined him a moment later. When they were both secure in the back of the wagon, Kirk retied the leather lashing with a slipknot and settled back into the darkness.

  For a moment, they sat there in silence, bumping up and down along with the wagon. Then Mitchell uttered a sound of heartfelt revulsion.

  “My god!” he rasped. “This is disgusting!”

  “Keep your voice down,” the lieutenant warned him, fully aware of what the underclassman was complaining about.

  “But these bags underneath us. They’re full of—”

  “Manure,” said Kirk. “I know.”

  “You know?” the plebe asked incredulously.

  “I knew before we even got into the wagon,” the upperclassman told him.

  “And you still thought this was a good idea?”

  “I grew up in Iowa, remember? On a working [194] farm,” said Kirk, “you get accustomed to the smell of fertilizer.�
�

  “Well, New York City didn’t have any working farms. I’ve got to get out of here before I suffocate.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” the lieutenant told him.

  “But I can’t—”

  Kirk remained steadfast. “That’s an order, mister. If I can stand it, you can stand it.”

  Mitchell sounded as if he was going to retch. But somehow, he managed to keep his gorge down. And with each passing moment, no matter how slowly it seemed to go by, they rumbled closer to their objective.

  Finally, the upperclassman felt the wagon slow down. It seemed to him they were going to turn. But which way?

  “Left,” Kirk whispered, as if he could direct their progress by sheer force of will. “Turn left.”

  “Relax,” Mitchell whispered in return. “We’re heading in the direction of the drainpipe.”

  The lieutenant looked at him, though he couldn’t see much in the darkness under the hide. “How do you know that?” he wondered.

  “You’re still asking?”

  Kirk felt like slapping his forehead with the heel of his hand. Mitchell’s flashes of insight, he thought—they really did come in handy sometimes.

  Sure enough, the wagon leaned to the right and then turned ponderously to the left. Just as Mitchell had predicted, they were heading for the street on the left [195] side of the warehouse. So far, the lieutenant thought, luck had remained their loyal companion.

  But they weren’t out of the woods yet—not by a long shot. The cadets still had to sneak out the back of the wagon without the kidnappers’ lookout noticing them. And then they had to hope that Mitchell’s drainpipe could hold up under their weight.

  Kirk counted to ten, then untied the slipknot that held their covering in place. Lifting the edge of the hide, he took a peek in what he estimated was the guard’s direction. The plebe peeked too.

  The lieutenant could see the kidnapper. At the moment, the Heiren was looking the other way, distracted by something. And their wagon was about to pass the dead-end street.

  “Get ready,” he told his fellow cadet. “Just another couple of seconds more. Okay, let’s—”

  “No!” Mitchell grated, groping for Kirk’s arm.

  The lieutenant stopped and looked at him, trying to make him out in the darkness. “What is it?”

  “Nature calls,” said the underclassman, with uncanny certainty. “Our friend the lookout is going to go into the building and ask someone to take his place for a while.”

  This time, Kirk didn’t ask him how he knew. He just reined in his impatience and waited.

  A moment later, he was glad he had listened to Mitchell, because the guard got up and walked into the warehouse. For at least a little while, the door to the building was unwatched.

  Amazing, Kirk thought. The plebe’s powers of [196] intuition were even sharper than he had imagined. He wondered how sharp.

  But for the time being, the lieutenant had more immediate concerns on his mind. He was tempted to follow the sentinel inside and try to subdue him quickly and quietly. Then, if he was successful, he and Mitchell could try to rescue the telepath.

  After all, there was a lot to be said for the element of surprise. That was one of the first bits of wisdom Kirk had absorbed in his freshman-year command-tactics class.

  Then again, surprise or no surprise, he didn’t know what kind of opposition they would be facing inside. Better to follow their original plan, bide their time, and hope for a better window of opportunity.

  After all, he told himself, they were only going to get one shot at this. They had to make it a good one.

  Slipping out from under the hide covering, Kirk dropped to the ground and slipped into the dead-end street. Mitchell, he saw, was right behind him. With the wagon groaning and jerking under the considerable weight of its cargo, the driver didn’t seem to notice their departure any more than he had noticed their arrival.

  Satisfied that they hadn’t drawn any attention yet, the lieutenant checked out the drainpipe he had spied earlier. Fortunately, it was in good condition. In fact, the pipe looked almost new. It was a good thing, too, considering how critical it was to their plan.

  Kirk started to climb first, using the brackets that fastened the pipe to the wall for hand- and footholds. [197] Looking back over his shoulder, he assured himself that Mitchell was following him up.

  The lieutenant was just shy of the roof when he heard his companion swear beneath his breath. Wondering what had happened, Kirk looked down again and saw Mitchell’s distress.

  “They’re coming!” the underclassman whispered.

  Spurred by the tone of urgency in Mitchell’s voice, the lieutenant clambered that much faster. He made it onto the roof, threw himself flat, and reached over the edge for his companion.

  Mitchell didn’t take the helping hand. In fact, as far as Kirk could tell, the other man had stopped climbing altogether. Cursing to himself, the upperclassman peered over the edge of the roof to see why—though he had a feeling he already knew.

  His fears were substantiated when he saw a pair of Heiren dressed in festive garments down below. They were peering down the dead-end street from the square—looking for something, apparently.

  What was worse, Kirk recognized them. They were the tall, burly specimens who had carried the telepath in the carpet there on their shoulders. Judging from the hands they held inside their long, gaily decorated robes, they had weapons concealed in them.

  To that point, the kidnappers hadn’t seen Mitchell clinging to the drainpipe, just a foot or two beneath the line of the roof. But if they chanced to look up ...

  “Are you sure?” asked one of them.

  The other one shrugged. “I thought I was.”

  “Maybe it was a scavenger.”

  [198] “Maybe,” the second one conceded.

  The Heiren craned his neck to look down the dead-end street some more. Then, apparently unable to find anything, he left. The other kidnapper went with him without another word.

  As soon as the Heiren were gone, Mitchell heaved a sigh and climbed the rest of the way up. “I was certain they were going to use me for target practice,” he said, rolling his way onto the roof.

  “We were lucky,” Kirk agreed.

  The other man shook his head. “Not me. If I was lucky, I would’ve been on this roof before they got here.”

  He had a point, the lieutenant admitted—if only to himself. Then he got up and set out across the roof, careful not to make too much noise. A moment later, Mitchell came after him.

  The roof peaked in the middle, but not so steeply that the cadets were in any real danger of losing their footing. They negotiated the peak and reached the opposite side without a hint of a mishap. Then they got down on their hands and knees to look down.

  The windows Kirk had mentioned were just below them—and as luck would have it, they seemed to be wide open. It wouldn’t be difficult for the cadets to lower themselves and swing inside.

  On the other hand, they didn’t know what kind of situation they were swinging into, or what the odds against them might be. Kirk said as much.

  “Doesn’t appear we’ve got much choice,” Mitchell responded.

  [199] “Just be ready,” the lieutenant advised him. “For anything.”

  Then he took the lead, turning around and grabbing the edge of the roof with his fingers. With a last look at his companion, he jumped down and swung himself through the window aperture.

  Chapter Sixteen

  KIRK’S LANDING inside the building was flawless. His feet were spread at shoulder width, his weight evenly distributed. Had any of the telepath’s abductors been inside, he would have been as ready for them as an unarmed human could possibly be.

  As it was, he found himself in an empty room, devoid of any immediate threat to life and limb. In fact, the only company he had was a few wooden boxes and a floor full of dust. That changed a moment later, as Mitchell swung in after him.

  The underclassman lo
oked around quickly, then came to the same conclusion Kirk had. Turning to the lieutenant, Mitchell whispered, “No welcome wagon? I’m disappointed.”

  Kirk didn’t dignify the remark with a response. Instead, he pointed to the room’s only door.

  [201] Together, he and Mitchell approached it and listened. They could hear voices, some louder than others. Every so often, one of the dissidents beyond the door laughed. And why not? the lieutenant thought. They had accomplished their mission.

  Now it was up to the cadets to do the same.

  Slowly, quietly, Kirk took the handle of the door and pulled it inward. Not much—just a crack, really, so as not to draw any attention. Then he snuck a peek into the hallway outside.

  He saw two Heiren lounging on a landing, not far from a flight of stairs. They were exchanging ribald jokes and passing a dark leather drinking skin back and forth, their yellow eyes slitted with glee in their blunt, bronze faces. To that point, the kidnappers seemed unaware that anyone had invaded their stronghold.

  Pulling his head back, Kirk turned to Mitchell. He held up two fingers, signifying what they were up against. The other man smiled and massaged his knuckles meaningfully.

  The lieutenant scowled at him. This wasn’t a training exercise, for pity’s sake. This was the real thing, with real adversaries out for real blood. If the two of them didn’t get the job done, entire planets’ worth of people would pay the price.

  Yet Mitchell seemed unimpressed. To him, it appeared, this was just another romp. In fact, everything was just another romp.

  The plebe’s smile widened, as if he knew exactly what Kirk was thinking. “Lead on,” he whispered.

  [202] The lieutenant peered through the opening again. The two kidnappers still hadn’t noticed that anything was awry. If anything, they were more engrossed in their storytelling than they had been before.

  This had to be quick, Kirk told himself. It had to be over before the Heiren knew what had hit them, or their comrades would come running upstairs to lend a hand.

  He took a breath. Then he flung the door open, took a couple of running steps, and launched himself through the air. He came down on top of one of the Heiren, who didn’t even have a chance to cry for assistance before the lieutenant clamped a hand over his scaly mouth.