Star Trek - TOS - 79 - Invasion 1 - First Strike Read online

  control. "Red alert!"

  Bright poppy-red slashes lit the bulkheads in place of

  the amber ones as the alert klaxons rang through the

  lower decks, announcing to the crew that the ship was

  coming into action. On the main screen, the Klingon

  ships shot into the distance and closed on the unidentified

  ship and opened fire the second they were within

  range, pelting heedless and relentless lancets of phaser

  energy onto the wide purple fans of hull material.

  Sparks flew and bright en ergy wash pumped down the

  fans, but was quickly drained away. There might've been

  some spray of debris, but it was difficult to see from this

  distance, moving at this speed.

  Spinning full-front to the main screen, Kirk cast his

  order back to Uhura.

  "Warn those ships off!"

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  "THEY WILL NOT go off, Captain," Kellen said. "You have

  no choice now. You will have to fight with them."

  "We'll see about that. Mr. Sulu, ahead one-half impulse.

  Mr. Chekov, take the science station. Ensign

  Donnier, take navigations."

  The assistant engineer blinked in surprise and

  dropped to the command deck. Chekov jumped up .to

  Spock's library computer and science station. Donruer

  slipped into Chekov's vacant seat and barely settled all

  the way down. He was a competent assistant for Scott,

  but he'd never been on the bridge before. He was young

  and particularly good-looking, which got him in many

  doors, only there to stumble over his personal insecurity

  because of a stuttering problem that he let slow him

  down. He'd requested duty only in engineering. That

  was why Kirk had ordered him to put in time on the

  bridge.

  The unidentified ship began to return fire--one, two,

  three globular bulbs of energy that looked more than

  anything like big blue water balloons wobbling through

  space toward the Klingon cruiser. Two missed, but one

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  FIRST STRIKE

  hit and drenched the cruiser in crackling blue, green, and

  white destructive power. The cruiser wasn't blown up,

  but fell off and spun out of control.

  "Heavy damage to the cruiser, sir," Chekov reported.

  "Main engines are seizing."

  "Analyze those bolts."

  "Analyzing," Spock's baritone voice answered from

  up on that monitor.

  Kirk glanced up there. He'd been talking to Chekov.

  He stared at the main screen, where the remaining

  four Klingon ships were dodging those heavy blue globes

  and pummeling the unidentified ship so unbrokenly that

  Kirk winced in empathy. "Stand by photon torpedoes."

  "Photon torpedoes r-ready," Donnier struggled,

  barely audible.

  As if he were standing at Kirk's side, Spock read off his

  analysis. "The unidentified ship's salvos are composed

  of quadra-cobalt intrivium... phased incendiary cor-osite

  plasma... and, I believe, plutonium. They also

  seem to have some wrecking qualities based on sonics."

  "Everything's in there," Kirk muttered. "Fusion,

  phasers, fire, sound... effective, but not supernatural.

  Double shields shipwide."

  "Double shields, sir."

  "They will use their mass-dropping weapon if you give

  them the chance, Kirk," Kellen rumbled. "They can

  negate the gravity in the whole sector. You must attack

  them before they use it."

  "If they have that kind of technology, General, then we're already sunk," Kirk responded, watching the action. "And they don't seem to have it."

  "How can you know?"

  "Because your ships are getting in some good punches

  and the visitors haven't used that 'weapon' again.

  They're using conventional defenses. If they have hand

  grenades, why are they shooting with bows and arrows?

  Helm, full impulse."

  "Full impulse, sir."

  "Good," Kellen whispered, then aloud said again,

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  "Good. Fight them with this monster of yours, while we

  have the advantage."

  "Just keep back," Kirk warned. "Helm, come to three-four-nine.

  Get between those Klingon ships. Force them

  to break formation."

  "Kirk? Kellen pressed forward and the guards had to

  grab him again.

  Around them the giant Artemis hummed as she powered

  up to her full potential and all her systems came online.

  A choral song of heat and imagination, she took a

  deep bite on space and moved in on the clutch of other ships, cleaving them away from each other with the sheer

  force of her presence and her sprawling shields.

  Two of the Klingon ships were pressured to part

  formation, while one other was forced off course and had

  to vector around again, which took time.

  In his mind Kirk saw his starship plunge into the

  battle. He'd put her through hell in their time together

  and she'd always come out with her spine uncracked.

  She'd picked herself up, given a good shake, and brought

  him and his crew back in under her own power every

  time. This was one of those moments when he felt that

  esprit with sailors from centuries past, who understood

  what a ship really was, how a bolted pile of wood, metal,

  and motive power could somehow be alive and command

  devotion as if the heart of oak actually pumped

  blood. How fast? How strong! How much could she

  take? How tightly could she twist against the pressure of

  forces from outside and inside? How far could they push

  her before she started to buckle? How much of herself

  would she give up before she let her crew be taken? How tough was she?

  Those were the real questions, because the ship was

  their life. If she died, they died. When a ship is life, it

  becomes alive ....

  "Port your helm, Mr. Sulu, wear ship, he said. "Mr.

  Donnier, phasers one-half power and open fire."

  "Wear the ship, aye," Sulu said, at the same time as

  Donnier responded, "One half f-f-phasers, s-sir."

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  Firing bright blue streamers, the starship came about,

  her stern section and main hull pivoting as if the

  engineering hull were held on a string high above.

  Kirk gripped his own chair with one hand and Don-nier's

  chair back with the other. "Ten points more to

  port."

  "Ten points, sir."

  "Good... twenty points more... keep firing, Mr.

  Donnier."

  The ship swung about, showing them a moving panorama

  of stars and ships on the main screen, swinging

  almost lazily from right to left.

  When he couldn't see the unidentified ship on the

  main screen anymore, he said, "Midships."

  "Midships," Sulu said, and tilted his shoulders as he

  fought to equalize the helm.

  Donnier glanced at Kirk, plainly confused by the term

  "midships" on something other than a docking maneuver.

  Good thing Sulu was at the helm instead of someone

  with less experience. Maneuvering a ship at sublight


  speeds, in tight quarters, had entirely different characteristics

  from maneuvers, even battles, at warp.

  At warp speed, the helm maneuvers were very slight

  and specific, designated by numbers of mark and course,

  and even moving the "wheel" a pin or two had sweeping

  results of millions of light-years.

  But at impulse speed, things changed. And changed

  even more in tight-maneuvering conditions. Helm adjustments

  became more sweeping, bigger, sometimes a

  full 180 degrees, or any cut of the pie. "Midships" meant

  "find the navigational center of this series of movements

  and equalize the helm."

  Forcing her crew to lean, the starship dipped briefly to

  port, then surged and came about to her own gravitational

  center and ran her phasers across the hulls of the Qul and the MatHa; knocking them out of their attack

  formation. The point of Donnier's tongue was sticking

  out the corner of his mouth and his backside was hitched

  to the edge of his seat as he concentrated on his phasers,

  95

  Diane Carey following not the angle of his phaser bolts but the

  position of the moving Klingon ships out theremit was

  exactly the right thing to do. Like pointing a finger.

  The two Klingon ships wobbled, shivered, nearly

  collided, and bore off, one of them forced astern and

  down. Kirk hoped Kellen took note that the starship's

  punches were being pulled.

  "Good shooting, Mr. Donnier," he offered. "Maintain."

  Sweating, Donnier mouthed an aye-aye, but there was

  no sound to it.

  The other two cruisersrobe forgot their names--kept

  wits and plowed in again, opening fire now on the

  Enterprise. The ship rocked and Kirk had to grab his

  command chair to keep from slamming sideways into the rail. His scratched fingers burned with the effort.

  Full phasers.

  He didn't want to respond in kind. He wanted to make a point, not chop four other ships to bits.

  Well, not yet.

  Problem was that their commanding general was here,

  out of communication. They might take that as final

  orders and fight to the death.

  Qul was back in the fight now, firing on the unidentified

  ship, and Donnier was doing an amiable job of

  detonating the Klingon phaser bolts before they struck

  the giant fan blades. He managed to catch three out of

  four bolts. Not bad.

  Kirk pulled himself around the helm against the heel

  of the starship. "Keep it up, Mr. Donnier. Photon

  torpedoes on the Klingon vessels, Mr. Sulu. Fire across their bows and detonate at proximity."

  "Aye, sir."

  New salvos spewed from the Enterprise, making a

  spitting sound here within the bridge, much different

  from the screaming streamers of phaser fire, much more

  concentrated and heavy-punching, exploding right in

  front of the Qul. The Qul flinched, probably blinded by

  96 FIRST STRIKE

  the nearby explosions, m-d bore off on a wingtip, forced

  to cease fire and try to come about again.

  "Call them off, Kellen," Kirk said. "I'll open up on

  them if I have to."

  "What right have you to do that?" Kellen bellowed. "I

  brought you here to be my ally!"

  "But I'm not going to be your mercenary. Call them

  Off."

  But Kellen only glared at the screen and damped his

  mouth shut.

  "Fine," Kirk grumbled.

  As the firing intensified, the fans on the unidentified

  ship's long twisted hull began to close inward, lying

  tightly and protectively upon each other and creating a

  shell instead of a flower. The curve of the hull itself

  began to straighten out, like a snake uncoiling its body,

  thinning the field of target and making it harder to hit.

  Talk about looking like a living thing...

  The strange ship continued to fire those sickly-blue

  globes on the Kl ingon vessels that strafed it.

  "All right, General, have it your way," Kirk ground

  out. "Mr. Donnier, phasers on full power. Mr. Sulu,

  photon torpedoes full intensity, point-blank range. Fire

  as your weapons bear on any Klingon vessel."

  Kellen cranked around against the guard's hold on

  him and glared at Kirk. "No!"

  "It's your decision." Kirk met the glare with his

  burning eyes. "Call them The Klingon's lips parted, peeled back, then came

  together again in a gust of frustration. He all but

  stomped his foot. Yanking one arm away from the guard

  on his left, he reached for his communicator, still being

  held by the other guard. As if it were all part of the same

  order, the guard let him have it.

  Kellen snapped the communicator open and barked,

  "Qul! Mev! Ylchu'Ha."

  Short and sweet.

  Worked, though.

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  Diane Carey

  The Klingon vessels swung about, joined each other at

  a notable distance, then dropped speed and came to a

  stop in some kind of formation Kirk hadn't seen before.

  Good enough.

  "You seem to have the ear of your squadron, General"

  Kirk said. "Mr. Donnier, cease fire. Helm, minimum safe distance, then come about and all stop."

  "Aye, sir," Sulu said tightly.

  "Safe distance," Kellen protested, shaking his big

  head. "Warriors coming home shredded and shamed,

  spewing tales of a Federation devil with hands of fire and

  steel in his eyes. 'I fought Kirk! My honor is not so

  damaged as if I fought a lesser enemy!" It's become an

  acceptable excuse to lose to Kirk. Some want to avoid

  you, some want to challenge you because it would be a

  better victory. I expected you to come in and shake

  planets. And this is you? Talk? I wanted a warrior. All I

  find is this--you--who will not act. I will go home and

  slap my commanders who spoke of you."

  "Your choice," Kirk said, ruffled less than he would've

  anticipated at the Klingon's lopsided insults that actually

  were kind of complimentary. Matching the general's

  anger with his own control, he countered, "When you

  met them before, did you try to talk to them at all?"

  "No!"

  "So you opened fire without announcement."

  "They kidnapped me. My fleet came in and took me

  back. Of course we fired. I brought you to fight them, not

  to defend them."

  "You brought me here to handle the situation. So let

  me handle it."

  "I am disappointed in you, Kirk," the general said.

  "You do not deserve to be Kirk!"

  "That's your problem." With a bob of his brows, Kirk

  raised his voice just enough. For a moment he gazed at

  the alien ship, then cast Kellen a generous glance. "Be

  patient. Mr. Sulu, move us in again. Let's see if they'll

  talk to us."

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  "How many ships?"

  "We count six ships, Vergozen."

  "Count again, Morien. Sweep the area. Be sure. They

  have stopped firing?"

  "Yes, Vergozen."

  "Fame, hold position. Make no movements."

  "Y
es, Vergozen."

  "Morien, speak to the engineer. Have him take some

  time repairing the damage done to the ship as we came

  through the fissure."

  "Time?"

  "Have him go slowly. Keep the power down. Otherwise

  Garamanus will expect me to destroy those vessels

  instead of simply closing the cocoon and firing a few

  light shots at them. I do not want the repairs complete

  until I am ready for them to be complete."

  "I understand, Vergozen."

  "Speak to him personally, Morien, not on the communications line."

  "I will."

  The doors of the bridge were low and wide, and took

  several seconds to open, then to gush closed again, and

  this time they seemed to take longer. When they closed,

  Morien was gone, yes, but something else had changed

  too.

  "Zennor... so you have found them."

  "Garamanus--I did not expect you to come to the

  bridge yet."

  The mission commander turned to meet his vessel's

  Dana and resisted any movement of his facial features.

  Briefly he thought the Dana had heard his instructions to

  Morien, but as he forced himself to be calm he realized

  that Garamanus had just come in as Morien was leaving.

  Garamanus was watching him too carefully.

  That was the Dana's purpose. Not the ship or the

  danger, but the commander and the mission. To make

  sure the latter two meshed as the chieftains instructed.

  And the chieftains did as the Danai told them, for the

  Danai had special gifts.

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  Diane Carey

  Holding his long hands before him in a relaxed position,

  with the traditional white streamers falling softly

  from his wrists, Garamanus bowed his heavy head. Over

  many years his horns had grown thick and bent his

  shoulders noticeably, but even so he was taller than

  Vergo Zennor by a hand's breadth. His presence chilled

  Zennor, and chilled the bridge.