Star Trek - Sarek

by A. C. Crispin

  could see the change come over his uncle as Kirk gloried in the small

  ship's skyward rush. The cadet called off a course, and Kirk fed it into

  the ship's computer.

  Suddenly, a harsh Klingon voice came over the intercom, demanding to

  know the ship's flight plan, its registration number, and a half a dozen

  other required things ships had to have before leaving the spaceport.

  Peter found it ironic that even Klingons had bureaucracy.

  "Any way we can bluff our way out of this?" the captain asked his crew.

  "I can speak enough Klingon, Uncle Jim," Peter told him,

  "but I just don't have the answers to their questions."

  "Nor do I, Captain," Spock told him.

  "Fine," the captain said casually, and slapped the inter-corn into

  silence, cutting the speaker off in mid-tirade.

  "That's enough of that."

  "Company coming," Peter reported tersely, as he watched his instruments.

  "Two cruisers."

  "Where's the damned cloaking device?" Kirk grumbled, peering at controls

  covered by Klingon symbols. "On the Bounty, Scotty labeled everything in

  English!" Peter craned his neck to see around his uncle. "It's on your

  left, that third switch, with the red telltale beside it."

  "It is possible, Captain," Spock warned, "that other Klingon vessels may

  well have technology to identify this ship's energy signature, and thus

  allow them to track us, even if we activate it."

  "Well, it won't hurt to try," Kirk said. He quickly flipped the

  appropriate switch. "There it is, Spock ... " Peter felt a subtle hum

  course through the shuttle, and the viewscreen changed abruptly,

  revealing a view of the planet below that was wavy and distorted, as

  though seen through a haze.

  The shuttle was almost out of the atmosphere, almost into space, when

  one of the ships nearly caught them. "Cruiser at oh-four-three mark

  six," Peter announced. "They've powered up their weapons and they're

  tracking us!" Spock was setting up the gunher's targeting screen, all

  his attention fixed on their opponent. The other ship fired, and the

  shuttle shuddered violently.

  "Direct hit!" Peter shouted. "Our amidships shield is down by eighty

  percent. Another hit there, and we won't have to worry about confronting

  Kamarag,"

  "What the hell's going on up there?" McCoy shouted.

  Quickly, he examined Valdyr. Puce swirls colored the white packing foam

  in her wound. Oh no, she sprung a bleeder.t He had no time to check the

  Klingon kit, and grabbed his microcautery. The ship suddenly veered

  sharply before he could engage the instrument. If that had happened

  while he was working in the wound, he could have caused irreparable

  damage! He had to have a steady working field.

  "Another jolt like that and I may as well throw this patient out the

  airlock for all the good I'm doin' her!" he yelled.

  He saw Peter turn to look at Valdyr, then heard Jim's "captain" voice

  order sharply, "Focus on your job, mister!

  Let the doctor handle his patient." The cadet's face flamed as he turned

  back around.

  Let the doctor handle his patient[ McCoy mentally mocked Kirk's order.

  The ship lurched again, then zagged hard right. Bones had to grab

  Valdyr's unconscious form to keep her secure in the chair. Handle,

  indeed[ he fumed. I'm a doctor, not a damned juggled

  "Spock?" Jim Kirk asked, not turning his head to see his officer. "I'm

  coaxing every bit of speed out of this ship that I can--"

  "Understood, Captain," the Vulcan said, his voice preternaturally calm.

  "Targeting locking on ... and firing." The little bird-of-prey shivered

  with the force of the blast. S im spared a glance for the viewscreen, in

  time to see the disrupter blast score a direct hit on their opponent.

  "That's got them!" the captain said exultantly. "Nice shooting, Spock!

  No loss of life, but they'll have to break off' pursuit and make a

  manual landing. Peter, let's up the stakes on this pursuit. Locate one

  of the ring shepherds and plot us a course past it. Find us a way

  through that ring." Peter worked at his controls feverishly. "Course

  computed and laid in, sir," he reported, moments later, his voice

  professionally confident.

  "Looks good," Jim responded, standing by to make minute course

  corrections. Then the ship shot toward the ring field at maximum speed.

  "Cruiser approaching, dead astern! Six-four-three mark nine!" the

  captain heard his nephew shout. "They're going to follow us--weapons

  targeting!"

  "Spock," Kirk said, "remember what happened to the Kepler?"

  "I do indeed, Captain," the Vulcan said, targeting his weapons.

  The shuttle hurtled into the gap. On their right side, close enough

  almost to touch, loomed the huge granite ring shepherd. They were beside

  it--they were past itm "Now, Spock!"

  "Firing aft weapons," Spock announced, and the little warbird trembled

  with the force of the blasts.

  The powerful beams shot into the ring shepherd, blowing it apart in a

  shower of debris, spreading directly into the path of the oncoming

  cruiser.

  Shards and chunks of rocks spun wildly, in eerie silence; then Peter's

  voice reached Kirk, suddenly exultant. "Captain, the debris has

  overloaded their shielding! They're breaking off`?" The Vulcan nodded.

  "Even Klingons can understand diminishing returns. Pursuing us at the

  cost of their own vessel was not worth the effort. Eminently logical."

  "Have you all finished turnin' this blasted shoebox upside down?" McCoy

  bellowed from the rear.

  The three men glanced at one another in exasperation.

  "Yes, Doctor," Jim assured him. Then Kirk turned to look at his nephew.

  "Go on back if you want to, Peter. Spock and I can handle this now."

  Peter nodded his gratitude and slipped out of the seat to join McCoy.

  "How is she?" He still found it hard to believe they'd survived that

  flight through the ring gap!

  "A little the worse for wear, I'm afraid," McCoy admitted grumpily. He

  had an odd-looking kit opened up beside him.

  "Fortunately, I found this ship's medical kit. But I'm havin' a little

  trouble with the diagnostic tool--language barrier, you know? Maybe you

  can help." Peter smiled wanly. He desperately wanted to do something for

  Valdyr, anything ... McCoy waved the device over the pale, comatose

  woman. Peter translated what he could, giving McCoy the terms

  phonetically, since none of them meant much to him, but the doctor kept

  nodding and saying, "Uh-huh," as if he at least understood it. McCoy dug

  around in the kit, found something and slapped it in his hypo. "This'll

  be a big help," he mumbled, as he pressed it to aldyr's neck. "Though,

  heaven knows she's got a damned pharmacy in there now."

  Suddenly, the woman's eyes fluttered open. "Pityr ..." she gasped.

  "He's right here, miss," McCoy told her. "Don't move now. Talk to her,

  son, before she starts thrashin'."

  "Valdyr." The cadet took her hand, squeezed it ently.

  Her retu rning grip was weak, and that shocked him more than even her

  appearance.

  "My warrior," she whispered
, "you cannot only fight ... you can speak

  ... so well ... like a diplomat ... as well as Azetbur ..."

  Peter flushed with pride, knowing the high opinion aldyr had of the

  female chancellor.

  "I'd say he's every bit as eloquent as his uncle, young miss," McCoy

  agreed, checking her signs, and examinin her wound for fresh blood.

  Valdyr frowned, blinking drowsily. "Pityr, what am I missing?"

  The cadet shook his head, not following her.

  "This McCoy, he keeps saying to me, 'miss," 'miss'--what is this I am

  missing? I do not want to be missing anything!"

  MCOY heard her, and raised his eyebrows. Peter nodded, trying to assure

  the doctor it was all right. "It's okay, Valdyr.

  You're not missing anything. "Miss' is an archaic title, what humans

  sometimes call young, unmated females. It's old-fashioned, but it's a

  sign of respect."

  Her gaze drifted to McCoy. "Thank you for that respect, Doctor. I did

  not think that would be such an easy thing to get from humans."

  "You earned that, miss," McCoy assured her. "Now, please, just lie

  still."

  Suddenly, she turned back to the young Kirk, her eyes widening. "Pityr,

  do not forget to tell your uncle ... about Kamarag ... "

  "He knows all about Kamarag, Valdyr," the cadet tried to reassure her.

  "No," she insisted, "he does not! You must tell him about Kamarag's

  fleet. I do not know how many ships, but he had

  many officers that he spoke to! Do not let Kirk fly right into his

  ambush ... "

  "I'll tell him, Valdyr, I'll tell him. You've got to take it easy."

  "Pityr, please, kiss me," she demanded, her voice hoarse and breathless.

  "If I am to die, I want to take the memory of your kiss with me,

  Pityr-oy."

  "You're not going to die, Valdyr," Peter told her. "I'll fight death for

  you, just like I fought Karg. And I'll win." Gently, he touched her

  mouth with his.

  She laughed lightly as he did. "Hlja'!" she whispered.

  "Mevqo', Pityr "Then she slid back into unconsciousness.

  glanced at McCoy, alarmed, but for once the doctor seemed unconcerned.

  "It's okay," the older man assured him.

  "Her body's shutting down its less important functions, to preserve its

  energy. She's holding on."

  cadet sighed, relieved. "Call me if she comes to," he asked, and McCoy

  nodded as Peter returned to his station.

  uncle and Spock acknowledged his arrival as Peter relayed the message

  from Valdyr to Jim Kirk about Kamarag's forces.

  "Don't worry, Peter. We can still beat him back to the point. We'll warn

  Enterprise in time."

  "And then what?" Peter demanded, bleakly.

  shrugged. "Maybe there will be another ship or two around.

  I'll contact Scotty, and have him call for help."

  "The nearest starbase is two days' journey away," Peter pointed out

  darkly.

  "Take it easy for the moment, Peter," Kirk tried to reassure him. "We'll

  find a way to handle Kamarag. And, by way, you were pretty damned

  eloquent, cadet."

  "Thanks, Uncle Jim."

  elder Kirk patted the helm and changed the subject. "This is one sweet

  little ship, isn't she?" he said to the other two men. "So ..." he

  patted the console again, "what'll we name her?"

  "Actually, Klingon ships are called 'he,'" Peter said, tightly.

  "And he has a name. It's painted on his bow. I

  spotted it as we boarded him." His face was as expressionless as

  Spock's, belying the turmoil of emotions inside him.

  "He's called the Taj."

  Spock looked pensive. "Ironic ..." he muttered.

  "What does it mean?" Jim asked.

  "Dagger," Peter said, a shadow crossing his face.

  No one said anything more as Taj flew on, swift and alone in the

  blackness.

  Hours later, a weary James T. Kirk piloted the Taj into the Enterpriseg

  docking bay. Waiting for him in the docking bay was a welcoming

  committee consisting of a medical team, a grim-faced Mr. Scott,

  Commander Uhura, and Ambassador Sarek.

  Within moments a medical team spirited Valdyr away, with McCoy and Peter

  in tow. Kirk stood at the top of the gangplank and watched the two of

  them, his heart aching a little for his nephew. Peter in love with a

  Klingon? But it had happened, there was no denying it. It was obvious

  that this was no casual affair; Peter had fallen, and fallen hard. Was

  there any possibility of a future for the two of them together? Any hope

  of happiness? He didn't know ...

  Ten minutes later, once more in uniform, the captain hurried down the

  corridor, fastening the flap of his maroon jacket.

  When he reached the conference chamber, he found his officers, plus

  Sarek, already assembled. Spock, also, was back in uniform. In contrast

  to his own weary dishevelment, the Vulcan was, of course, impeccably

  groomed and seemed as fresh as if he hadn't played hide-and-seek on

  Qo'nos for the past fifteen hours.

  Kirk lowered himself into a seat and addressed his chief engineer.

  "Status, Mr. Scott?"

  "Well, Captain ... I dinna know exactly what's going' on, but something

  worrisome is happening. Half an hour ago, we picked up a blip for about

  five seconds on our sensors--and then it was gone. Three minutes later,

  another ... not far away. Just ... blip, then gone. Over and over,

  sir. Never in the same space twice ... but stayin' just barely within

  the boundary of the Neutral Zone--th' Romulan Neutral "What do the

  sensors indicate?" Kirk asked. "Could it be Kamarag's fleet?"

  "Noo, sir, it's not large enough for that. We canna get a full readin',

  Captain, because it comes and goes so quickly.

  Just bits and pieces. It isna small, that's for sure. I'd say

  ship-sized."

  "No possibility of it being a natural phenomenon?"

  "Noo, Captain. My guess is that it's a ship. A cloaked ship. It decloaks

  just long enough to register on our sensors as a blip, then it recloaks

  and moves. But never very far away."

  "A bird-of-prey," Kirk said, and Scott nodded. "Kling-on?"

  "Possibly," Spock said, studying the limited sensor data Scott displayed

  for their benefit. "But I think not. The ion traces are different from

  those we detected from cloaked Klingon vessels."

  "And, Captain," Uhura spoke up, "there's something else that's

  suspicious about it. The instant we first picked it up, something began

  jamming our long-range communications.

  We can't send subspace messages, sir."

  "Hmmmm ..." Kirk sipped coffee, thinking hard.

  "Show me the blips," he said, and Scott obediently called up a

  three-dimensional schematic on the conference table's screen. Kirk

  studied the pattern as he finished his coffee.

  "What do you make of this, Spock?"

  "I would like the opportunity to study it further," the Vulcan said,

  gazing intently at the screen. Sarek also stared at the screen, barely

  blinking. Kirk could almost hear the Vulcan wheels turning.

  "What would happen," the ambassador said quietly, "if we were to move

  closer to it?"

  "We can try," Kirk said. "Mr. Scott, Commander Uhura, please report to
<
br />   the bridge to oversee maneuvers. Scotty, see how much of an ion trail

  our visitor is leaving. Uhura, try and determine the range their jamming

  signal has."

  "Yes, Captain."

  "Aye, sir."

  Minutes later, with the two senior officers standing by, Kirk instructed

  the helm to head for the last recorded blip at one-eighth impulse power.

  "Look!" Uhura exclaimed over the intercom as another blip abruptly

  flashed on, then off. This one was deeper into the Neutral Zone by

  several hundred kilometers.

  "It's like a game," Kirk said, staring hard at the screen.

  "They want to lure us into the Neutral Zone."

  "A game," Sarek repeated softly, an undercurrent of excitement in his

  voice. "Yes indeed ... a game! But not follow-the-leader ... watch

  closely ..." The Vulcan's long-fingered hands flashed swiftly over the

  computer controls.

  As Kirk watched, the three-dimensional schematic was replaced by a

  three-level grid pattern--a familiar pattern.