Kobayashi Maru

by Michael A. Martin

  “Captain, the Klingon vessels nearly have us surrounded,” Reed said. “But we still have full warp capability.”

  Archer heard the unspoken “for now” at the end of Malcolm’s sentence loud and clear.

  “Can’t let ’em have Enterprise,” he murmured.

  He noticed then that Mayweather was looking up at him expectantly from the helm station. “Sir?”

  Looking around the faintly illuminated bridge, Archer saw similar looks of expectation on the faces of everyone there. The ruddy glow of the emergency lights cast harsh, bizarre shadows across the features of T’Pol, Reed, Hoshi, and Mayweather, greatly accentuating every anxiety they must have felt, as well as his own.

  ARCHER, YOU ARE HEADED INTO A TRAP. ROMULAN SNEAK ATTACK COMING, BY REMOTE CONTROL.

  But I can’t just leave all those people here to die, he thought, anguished.

  FREIGHTER NOT SAVABLE.

  He slammed the side of his hand onto the intercom unit on the arm of his chair. “Archer to O’Neill. Any luck transporting those survivors yet?”

  “There’s still too much graviton particle flux on the hull, Captain,” O’Neill said. “I’m sorry. I wish I had better news for you, sir.”

  Damn.

  FREIGHTER NOT SAVABLE.

  I can’t accept that!

  “Captain!” Reed cried. “The hull polarization system has gone down, just like life support did. I can’t determine exactly why yet.”

  But I can, Archer thought, recalling the dying Klingon woman. Defensive and tactical systems were the next dominoes to fall after life support.

  TURN ENTERPRISE ABOUT IMMEDIATELY, MAX WARP.

  Forgive me.

  But Archer seriously doubted he would ever develop a large enough capacity for self-forgiveness to accept absolution for what he knew he had to do.

  “Travis, get us out of here,” Archer said. “Pedal to the metal.”

  Mayweather regarded him silently for a moment, his eyes widening into pools in which disappointment and relief commingled, as did both repugnance and understanding.

  “Aye, Captain,” the helmsman said, turning toward his console and bringing the ship into motion. The whine of the engines and the vibration in the deck plates signaled Enterprise’s quick transition from subluminal velocity to high warp speed.

  Archer stared straight ahead at the viewer. The dying Kobayashi Maru immediately fell away astern, dropping into the infinite, just another piece of flotsam on the cosmic ocean. Not wishing to see what he had already seen once in Travis’s eyes and in the gazes of the rest of his crew, he continued staring straight ahead long seconds after the fuel carrier had completely vanished from sight.

  “The lead vessel is pursuing,” Reed said. “But she’s slowly losing ground to us. The other vessels seem to be converging on the Kobayashi Maru and powering up their weapons.”

  Without tearing his eyes from the star field ahead of him, Archer opened an intercom channel. “Archer to engineering.”

  “Burch here, Captain.”

  “We need to get life support back up, Lieutenant.”

  “My people are already on it, Captain. We should have everything five-by-five before it even starts getting stuffy around here, sir.”

  “Captain Vance is hailing us again, Captain,” Hoshi said quietly. After a long, pregnant pause she added, “What should I tell him?”

  He slowly turned to face her, and allowed his gaze to sweep the rest of the bridge. The eyes of everyone looked like small mirrors of shock and accusation.

  He wondered if he could stand to see the same look in Admiral Gardner’s eyes, whether or not Starfleet Command ultimately vindicated the decision he’d just made.

  “The Klingons have opened fire on the Kobayashi Maru,” Reed said, an audible quaver in his voice.

  “One of the vessel’s neutronic fuel tanks appears to have exploded, causing a chain reaction,” T’Pol reported a moment later from her science console. Then she drew away from her scanner and turned to face Archer directly. “Captain, the Kobayashi Maru has been destroyed.”

  Archer closed his eyes tightly.

  God forgive me.

  FIFTY

  Wednesday, July 23, 2155

  San Francisco, Earth

  PRIME MINISTER NATHAN SAMUELS WOULD have preferred to have a pleasantly dull and utterly uneventful morning, but he realized now that not only was it shaping up to be a most decidedly unpleasant day, it was likely only a sample of many weeks, or perhaps months, of similarly eventful days to come.

  The Coalition Security Council had called yet another one of its now-ubiquitous emergency sessions, and the decisions he expected today’s meeting to yield had an even heavier air of gravitas than any action the body had taken during the previous several weeks. It was one thing to threaten war, but quite another to follow through and actually declare it. Regardless, the latest images Starfleet had relayed to the ministries of the United Earth government clearly showed that the nascent alliance had an extremely limited number of options.

  All of the Coalition delegates—including those representing the most recently inducted members, Draylax and Alpha Centauri—were seated at their customary spots at the semicircular array of conference tables. Mounted on the wall at one end of the room was a wide, flat video monitor, which played and replayed an endless, grainy loop of the previous day’s debacle in the Gamma Hydra sector. Starfleet Admirals Sam Gardner and Gregory Black, MACO commandant General George Casey, and several other members of Starfleet’s top brass were seated near the giant viewscreen, their expressions uniformly grave and somber.

  “I still believe that the Klingons must be involved in this,” Gora bim Gral of Tellar said in his customary testy manner. “Note that only their ships have allegedly succumbed to this so-called Romulan superweapon. Therefore I think they must be acting in collusion with the Romulans.”

  Samuels saw Vulcan Foreign Minister Soval glance toward Ambassadors L’Nel and Solkar, one eyebrow raised. But none of the three Vulcans made any audible response to Gral’s assertion, leaving the minister to wonder what they might be thinking.

  “We concur,” said Grethe Zhor, one of the two newest delegates to the Council. “Draylax has already been a target of one of these deadly attacks. Regardless of the so-called evidence Captain Archer has gathered for this council, the fact remains that it was Klingon vessels that fired the volleys that killed so many of our people, and destroyed the Tau Cetan freighter Kobayashi Maru.”

  Anlenthoris ch’Vhendreni rose to his feet, the Andorian foreign minister’s cerulean antennae bent almost parallel to the white-maned slope of his skull. “The images clearly show the presence of a Romulan ship, as well as the Klingon vessels that destroyed the Kobayashi Maru. Are any of you really naïve enough to believe this to be a coincidence? That the Romulans just happened to be at the site of an apparent Klingon attack?” He glared around the assemblage, reinforcing his point with his icy gaze before sitting down again.

  Gral snorted. “Has no one considered that if the Klingons are responsible, that they may be using a Romulan ship in order to misdirect our retaliation? This is only the second piece of evidence we have seen that the Romulans might be involved in anti-Coalition aggression, however peripherally, and yet we have seen many examples of Klingon barbarism!”

  “Two other attacks occurred just last night, including one in my system,” Centauri III’s Ambassador Jie Cong Li said. “Why has Starfleet not yet made even a preliminary report about either of them?”

  Interior Minister Haroun al-Rashid cleared his throat, then spoke. “Two other attacks did indeed occur last night. One was directed at the science outpost on Calder II, and the second incident happened near Alpha Centauri. Starfleet dispatched Earth’s second NX-class vessel, Columbia, to assist in Alpha Centauri’s defense.”

  “And what happened after that?” Gral asked, wrinkling his porcine nose.

  Samuels knew that al-Rashid must have been squirming inside, although his exter
ior looked enviably cool and calm. Both men had been present at Admiral Gardner’s secret briefing, and therefore knew the potentially explosive secret that both Earth and Starfleet had deemed it prudent to conceal, at least temporarily, from their Coalition peers: the fact that both Columbia and a source on Calder II had confirmed that Vulcan military ships had initiated last night’s attacks.

  Vulcan ships that Starfleet now firmly believed had acted under Romulan control, like the Klingon vessels that had attacked Draylax.

  Samuels watched as al-Rashid glanced toward the Starfleet brass before spreading his hands and addressing the other Coalition delegations. “We don’t yet know exactly what happened last night,” he said, dissembling only as much as absolutely necessary. “And we haven’t heard much from Columbia since just before her engagement with the hostiles near Alpha Centauri.”

  “And how long ago was that?” Thoris—the name that Anlenthoris ch’Vhendreni used most commonly among his diplomatic peers—looked surprised, his antennae cued almost bolt upright.

  “It’s been approximately ten hours,” al-Rashid said. “Columbia’s silence may be due simply to transmitter damage, but Starfleet won’t be able to confirm her status until another vessel can reach her and get a report on what’s happened out there.”

  “What about Centauri III’s defenses? Have you no fleet to protect your own?” Gral asked.

  Before an annoyed-looking Ambassador Li could respond, Minister Soval stood, holding one hand out to preempt the discussion. “My government dispatched several Vulcan Defense Force vessels to Alpha Centauri III yesterday to reinforce the system’s defenses. Like Starfleet, we have heard nothing conclusive from our vessels, as yet, regarding the outcome of the engagement.” He sat back down, tucking his hands into his robe sleeves.

  So much for Vulcans not being able to lie, Samuels thought, suppressing a sly smile. Even if Soval believes what he’s saying, that only means that somebody higher up on Vulcan must have lied to him.

  Samuels saw Gardner and Black exchange inscrutable looks in response to Soval’s words. He also noted that at least one of their subordinates had surreptitiously pulled out a datapad and was quickly entering something into it with his stylus. He sincerely hoped that the aide was merely researching the veracity of Soval’s claim, rather than leaking something to the press; he’d seen enough “Worlds at War?” headlines during the past week to last several lifetimes.

  “So we have missing or incommunicado Vulcan and Starfleet ships at Alpha Centauri, and we already know what happened with Enterprise near Tezel-Oroko,” Thoris said. “What has become of the Calder II outpost?”

  Minister al-Rashid shook his head again. “We have not heard all the details as yet, but the final, fragmentary transmissions Starfleet received hint that the entire outpost was probably destroyed.”

  “By whom?” Gral demanded. “Or what?”

  “The scientists at the outposts apparently couldn’t transmit any clear visuals of their attackers before the hostiles jammed their central transmitter,” al-Rashid said.

  Grethe Zhor rose to her feet, scowling in evident anger as she crossed her arms beneath her triple bust. “I realize that I am one of the two newest inductees to this council, but I find I must question whether all the effort Draylax has expended in order to join this group can be justified. During the past week, there have been nearly a dozen smaller attacks that can be attributed to this same unfolding pattern of aggression, whether on the part of the Klingons, the Romulans, or perhaps even some never-before-seen alliance of the two. Almost all Coalition worlds and their colonies have been affected in some manner by these assaults.

  “Yesterday, three such attacks occurred in or near Coalition space,” she said, continuing with rising passion. “Starfleet was unable to stop any of them—Znoc, Captain Archer fled with Enterprise like a frightened child—and the Vulcan fleet may have just proven equally useless at Alpha Centauri. We need to decide beyond all doubt and debate who the aggressor is, and then go after that aggressor. All of our endless equivocating and discussion will only result in more death. More destruction.”

  Samuels watched the Draylaxian in silence, a few of her words sticking in his craw as she paused to pound her hand on the conference table in an effort to emphasize her point. “In case some of you have not been paying close attention, we are already at war. An enemy has attacked us, and continues to do so even as we argue. It is already long past time for us to begin fighting back.”

  Sensing that the tension in the room was about to erupt, Samuels pounded his gavel loudly against the central lectern, breaking through the rising mixed gabble of assenting and dissenting murmurs.

  “Ambassador Grethe Zhor is right about many things,” he said. “However, I must object strongly to her characterization of Captain Archer’s actions. If the Romulans were indeed attempting to capture one of our most advanced starships, then he had no choice other than to withdraw as he did. Of course, given the admittedly ambiguous circumstances near Alpha Centauri, it may already be too late to get that particular horse back into its stable. For all we know, our mutual enemy may already have gained control of Starfleet, Vulcan, and Klingon technologies.”

  Samuels watched Soval flinch ever so slightly in response to his conjecture; he wondered if the idea truly hadn’t yet occurred to the stoic Vulcan foreign minister, or if the Vulcans were simply hiding their knowledge that the worst had already occurred. As usual.

  Samuels clenched his jaw tightly for a moment, grinding his back teeth slightly before he resumed speaking. He hated having to say what he was about to say, and had felt the words coiled in the pit of his stomach, like poisonous snakes preparing to strike.

  “Circumstances force me to suggest that this Security Council may not be the most effective venue for many of the decisions that will have to be made in the very near future. I move that each of our worlds prepare to convene a council of war immediately, with full input from each of our militaries.”

  Even as he said the words, the Council members all began getting to their feet, gesturing and shouting—mostly in agreement—and Samuels wondered if this moment, rather than the signing of the Coalition Compact, might turn out to be the one for which history remembered him best.

  God help us all, he prayed silently, closing his eyes in the forlorn hope of shutting out the tumult that had erupted in the Coalition Council Chamber, if only for an instant.

  It was one thing to threaten war, to give speeches and to debate the merits and pitfalls of interstellar conflict. But even given history’s inescapable lessons about the all-too-frequent necessity of going to war against aggressors, Samuels knew that he did not want to lead humanity—so recently unified and at peace with itself—into a brand-new age of conflict out there.

  Just as he knew from those around him—those allies whose worlds and governments and societies and cultures and families were threatened with annihilation—that before the week was out, they would be at war.

  As always, none of the Vulcan diplomats spoke at all before they reached their heavily guarded consulate, and the interior chambers that they kept shielded from both listening devices and sensor scans.

  Once inside, however, it was Solkar who spoke first. “How soon should we inform the Coalition Council about what became of our ships at Alpha Centauri?” he asked.

  Soval crossed to his desk, near the central wall of the pentagonal chamber. He decanted a vessel of T’Rukh spiced tea there, and poured some of the glowing orange liquid into a glass. “We are still investigating precisely what happened, and how it happened. The optimal time to inform the others, of course, would be sometime prior to their discovery of the same truths.”

  L’Nel paced, agitation clearly showing on her smooth, unlined face. “Which depends on the status of Columbia, which our fleet reports as having been relatively undamaged at the time of their withdrawal from Alpha Centauri.”

  “Calm yourself, L’Nel,” Soval said, calling upon his well-honed Syrranni
te disciplines to filter all emotion from his being as he spoke. “The commanders of those vessels were under strict orders to destroy evidence of any Vulcan involvement in the Alpha Centauri attacks, and to attempt to deploy countermeasures designed to prevent the Romulans from gaining any further access to our technology. They were not charged with safeguarding Starfleet vessels after the Romulan threat had been neutralized.”

  “And what will happen if Columbia has fallen into Romulan hands in spite of the efforts of our fleet?” L’Nel said, clearly still struggling to calm herself. “They have already shown themselves quite adept at seizing control of both Vulcan and Klingon technology, our countermeasures notwithstanding.”

  Soval stared into his glass, then took a sip of the spiced liquid, feeling it burn his tongue as he swallowed. Finally, he answered.

  “I feel confident that Vulcan will take part in the offensive against the Romulans that is to come. And if Starfleet’s technology has become compromised, we will introduce new countermeasures to make certain that Vulcan remains, as always, insulated and protected.”

  Despite their relative youth, L’Nel’s and Solkar’s facial expressions told Soval that they understood what he was saying. Vulcan had played a larger role than humanity would ever know in moderating the breakneck pace of Earth’s development into an interstellar species. As with the secret listening post near Tezel-Oroko—a facility that still needed to be staffed, resupplied, and completed—Vulcan was good at keeping secrets.

  Thursday, July 24, 2155

  Keisha Naquase stared at the message that had come into her datapad seconds ago. She was tremendously protective of the device—it was actually locked to her wrist with a tether—but now, in the crush of other reporters outside Starfleet Headquarters, she gripped it even more tightly as she backed away from the other assembled members of the press corps.

  They all knew something was up. During the last thirty-six hours, a significant number of new military personnel had arrived, representing every member of the Coalition: Vulcan, Andor, Tellar, Draylax, Alpha Centauri, and even members of several species that she and the other human media had only recently been able to identify as potential Coalition allies.