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

  up. If he goes back a loser, his career's in the dumper."

  "Jim, keep your head down! They can take aim on you

  from up there!"

  Dropping only a couple of inches in response, Kirk

  glanced up, up, up to the highest crags, where Klingon

  lookouts had taken position.

  Below that, Lieutenant Doyle's bright blond hair

  shone in the hot sun, but he was behind cover, huddled

  with about fifteen other Starfleeters and a handful of

  Capellans. Kirk saw the lieutenant's arm move as he

  gestured weapons up.

  A dozen hand phasers came nose up, then leveled and

  took aim.

  "He sees something we can't see." Kirk made silent

  bets with himself about what Doyle saw. "They're taking aim... I see the Klingons."

  "Where?"

  "Over the top of the incline."

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  "How many?"

  "Not enough for a dozen phasers, that's for sure. And

  they're not charging. They're moving back and forth up

  there, trying to get attention."

  "You think it's a trap, sir?" Bannon asked.

  "I think it's something. Trick of some kind...

  Doyle's being enticed to fire. I need communications!"

  "I'll go, sir!" Bannon thrust to his full height, almost

  as tall as the native Capellans but about half as thick.

  McCoy grabbed him and forced him back down, out

  of the line of fire from the upper rocks. "Down, boy?

  Bannon's red hair was plastered across his pale forehead

  and he seemed exhausted, but there was determination

  in his eyes. He was willing to go.

  "All right, go," Kirk said. "But keep low. Don't get

  any closer than you absolutely have to. I don't want all

  my people bunched up."

  "Aye, sir!" The young officer took his own phaser in

  his hand and scraped away on the slanted slabs.

  Klingon activity on the top of the incline was increasing.

  Still no advancement, just more figures moving this

  way and that, taking potshots with disruptors at the

  hidden Starfleet forces. Rocks splattered and splintered

  with every miss, but they kept shooting, even without

  clear targets.

  Bannon made a red and black streak of color as he

  moved across the lower landscape, picking his way

  toward Doyle's company. Slow going. As Kirk watched

  he felt bad hbout the terrain. Down on the plain the

  ground was nearly level. Large groups could move more

  freely, attack more openly, but there would be death by

  the hundreds. Here, the ground was ungiving, stony, and

  damned, but there was cover.

  Before Bannon came within earshot, Kirk saw Doyle's

  men stretching out their phaser arms. In his mind he

  heard the order--Ready.. aim...

  "Not yet," he uttered, feeling the sweaty tension of

  McCoy at his side. "Not yet--"

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  FIRST STRIKE

  Ducking blue disruptor shots from above, Bannon was

  moving slowly, but he was nearly there.

  Fire!

  A globular burst of red-pink phaser fire launched from

  the huddled Starfleet group and struck out at the incline.

  The up there Klingons ducked out of sight. Not one was

  hit.

  Instead, an answer came from overhead--a gulp of

  bright bluish energy sprayed from the cloudless sky and

  landed squarely on Doyle's men as if a giant flyswatter

  had just come down. The sheer whine of sound drove

  Kirk, McCoy, and the three ensigns plunging for the

  ground, cuffing their ears.

  Kirk forced himself up instantly and looked down into

  the valley.

  The bodies of his crewmen and several tribesmen

  streaked the dusty flats. Two hundred yards short of his

  goal, Bannon lay knocked flat. Fury rolled in Kirk's

  chest. He'd been outthought by the enemy.

  "What the blazes was that?" McCoy gasped, peering at

  the sky, then back down at the draped bodies.

  "Some sort of response to the phasers," Kirk muttered.

  "From where? A ship?"

  "Maybe a shuttlecraft."

  "Let me go down there!" the doctor asked. "I can treat

  those men."

  "You stay put." Kirk heard the anger in his voice and

  valiantly tried to keep it from lopping over from his own

  self-recriminations and onto McCoy. He didn't bother

  pointing out that those men were probably beyond

  treatment.

  "Captain!"

  The familiar baritone call caught him fast and he

  turned and headed toward it.

  "Here!" he called. "Spock, over here!"

  From among the whey-colored rocks, First Officer Spock kept low but hurried to them, carrying a bow in

  47

  Diane Carey one hand and an arrow in the other. He'd holstered his

  own phaser, and that meant something.

  "Did you see the flash?" the Vulcan asked without amenity. "Disruptor backwash came from the sky."

  Kirk nodded. "What do you think it is? A ship?"

  Spock shook his head, squinting. "Too low. More

  likely a satellite keyed to Starfleet phaser energy. You

  will recall that Klingon disruptor fire did not set it

  off."

  "Could it be affecting our communicators?"

  "I have no facts to corroborate that, but the theoretical

  conclusion bears some logic." Spock's dark eyes scanned

  Kirk's blood-splattered gold shirt. He was assessing his

  captain for injuries, but he said nothing about it. He too

  was breathing hard, despite this hot weather's being

  more natural for him than shipboard climate.

  Kirk looked up, scanning the sky. "If Scotty could get

  in close with the ship, he could knock any orbiter out

  with one shot."

  "We must assume he is occupied." The Vulcan's

  words were laced with portent. He offered nothing more

  specific, but there was concern in his dust-grooved expression.

  "We're on our own. McCoy, corral those three ensigns.

  We're going to need runners to communicate with the

  field positions."

  "Yes, sir," McCoy responded, with fear clutching his

  sudden sense of purpose. At least he didn't argue.

  "All right, if that's the way it is," Kirk huffed to his

  first officer as they watched they doctor pick his way back

  to the grotto. "They neutralize our weapons, then I want

  theirs."

  Spock nodded, scanning the enemy lines. They hung

  together in silence for a few seconds, and Kirk listened to

  the sound of his own heart pound in his ears.

  His left middle finger was hurting. Probably a sliver.

  Felt like it might be under the fingernail. He glanced

  down, but didn't see anything through the dirt plastered

  48 FIRST STRIKE

  to his fingers, and thought the sight of their captain

  picking at a tingeruail might not do his crew any good.

  He shook his head. Out of all the bruises and cuts, a

  silver was distracting him. Battle could be a fun-house

  mirror sometimes.

  As the ground cover crackled behind him he spun

  around and almost lashed out, but Spock pressed him

  back somehow, subtly, only
raising one arm a little. Kirk

  glared at what had startled himmMcCoy and the three

  ensigns slipping into the cover of the rock with them.

  Steadying himself, he tilted a silent thanks to Spock

  and motioned the others toward him, then gestured

  them to huddle.

  Crouching behind the big flat slab, Kirk looked at his

  men one by one. "We think the Klingo ns have deployed

  a satellite or shuttle that blankets the immediate area

  with destructive power when it detects Federation phaser

  tire. Your job is to get to our commanding officers and

  relay information. Standing order is phasers down, indigenous

  weapons only. Consider the phasers neutralized.

  Draw the enemy into hand fighting if possible. It'll

  give us a more equal chance than letting them have wide

  berth. New goal--capture Klingon disruptors."

  "Sir, I don't see how we can tight disruptors without

  phasers," Ensign Dunton said, a gaunt scrapper with a

  gap between his front teeth.

  "Phasers can target thousands in open ground," Spock

  said calmly, "but at close proximity, it may not be any

  better than a sword or knife, Ensign."

  "It's awful," Dunton uttered, glancing out at the

  collapsed forms of his shipmates. "They shouldn't have

  to die in the dirt like that."

  "We're here to knock the Klingons back," Kirk said

  firmly. "That's the bet all spacefarers make. Our lives

  might come down to this."

  He saw in their faces that they suddenly understood

  something they'd never thought of before--that this

  might be the real fate they'd signed up for. No stars nor

  bright nebulae, but the dust of some distant alien planet

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  between blood-crusted teeth, and the taste of foreign soil

  on a dying breath.

  Beside Dunton, Ensign Fulciero looked up at him like

  a kid on Santa's knee who was hoping for the right

  answer. "All we gotta do is hold them off from the

  villages long enough for the battle in space to be won,

  right, sir?"

  Kirk placated him with a nod. "And Starfleet to send

  reinforcements."

  He didn't estimate how much time that might take.

  "What if they get past the ship?" the third ensign

  asked. "They could lay waste to half the planet from

  up there."

  Kirk landed a fierce glance on him. "They won't."

  Fulciero blinked into the sun. "Why not?"

  "Because they won't. We don't have time for lessons,

  gentlemen. You have your orders. Disperse."

  Being on the move with a message to deliver would be

  good for them. Better than sitting here, anticipating

  disaster and asking questions that would take time to

  answer.

  Tense, he and Spock and McCoy watched the ensigns

  fan out, trying to reach companies of Starfleet forces

  before anybody else used a phaser. His skin crawled in

  expectation of the thready whine that could come any

  second, from any quarter. Twice he thought he heard it,

  and glanced at the sky, waiting for the bright pounding

  response, but he was wrong both times. His unit commanders

  were better than he remembered. He had

  become too custodial. Forgotten that they could see the

  sky too, knew a plasma burst when they saw it, and were

  good at their jobs. They weren't using phasers. In several

  places he saw his crew holstering their hand weapons and

  taking up the crude weapons of the planet--rocks,

  sticks, Capellan swords and klegats.

  For a moment he wanted to tell his men not to try

  using the klegats. The bladed disks were used efficiently

  by the strong Capellans, but they took training. They

  were deliberately not very sharp. Injury came from raw

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  FIRST STRIKE

  force and bone breakage. It was a crushing weapon as

  much as a slicing one.

  "Captain," Spock snapped, "here they come."

  He pointed to the upper ground, now swelling with

  living enemy soldiers who were met by advanced Star-fleet

  guards, swinging and hacking.

  "Typical," McCoy threw in. "They know they've

  knocked out our phasers, so they're advancing." Frustration

  showed in his eyes as the doctor gripped the ledge

  and watched their own men fall wounded, and clearly he

  wished he could sneak out and begin treating them.

  "Why aren't they using their disruptors?"

  "Terrain," Kirk said. "Too many obstructions."

  "I believe there is more." Spock pressed a hand to the

  rock and straightened to look over. "Klingons prefer

  hand-to-hand fighting. They consider it more honorable

  to kill at close quarters than with a long-range weapon. If

  they can arrange for that, they will do so."

  "So we'll give it to them," Kirk said. "We can--"

  At his hip, his communicator suddenly whistled.

  He snatched at it, missed, and had to grab again.

  "Kirk to Enterprise--status report!"

  "Scott here, sir. We punched through the communications

  blanket."

  "What's going on up there?"

  "Battle, sir. Three cruisers. We're holding our own now.

  But we've got a new development. More Klingons coming

  in, and I don't know what to make of it."

  Kirk glanced at Spock. "More Klingons. Lovely. Why

  don't you know what to make of it, Scotty? What're they

  doing?"

  "Unidentified bird coming in at warp six, with wings

  up, weapons systems off, broadcasting interstellar distress

  call."

  "A distress call while at warp six?" Kirk let the

  communicator drop a little and looked at Spock again.

  "Not ship distress, then."

  "Unless they are under hot pursuit," Spock suggested.

  "Not likely." Kirk brought the communicator up

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  again. "Let the situation play out, Scotty. Don't fire on

  them until you figure out their intent. If you don't like it

  when you find it out, blow them out of the sky." 'Aye, sir."

  "And there's a satellite of some kind of hovering

  mechanism over our locality that's keyed to our hand

  phasers. Can you knock it out?"

  "We've picked up on it and we're targeting it. If we

  overshoot, we could hit you there on the surface."

  "Understood. Hurry up."

  "Aye, sir. Scotty out."

  "It's good to hear his voice." Kirk pressed the back of

  his hand to his bleeding mouth. "Gentlemen, I think I've

  finally reached my limit."

  They both looked at him, and Spock asked, "Sir?"

  "I'm sick of Klingons."

  He pushed away from the rocks.

  "On your toes. This is it." He stood up and started out

  into the open.

  "Jim!" McCoy snatched him by the arm. "They'll see

  you?"

  "I want them to see me. Come on, Spock."

  Enemy forces were plowing over the ridge, nearly two

  hundred of them at a quick sweeping estimate. Their

  silver tunics and black sleeves were crisp in the unforgiving

  sunlight, their howl of charge more chilling
than the

  whine of their disruptors. Screams of injured and dying

  men looped up like sirens. The survivors on both sides

  scrambled for new cover.

  But none for retreat. It was good to see.

  He knew better than to micromanage. His men knew

  he was here. They'd fight in pairs or triplets or any kind

  of unit they could form. Enthusiasm carried them up the

  incline to meet the enemy, and it dimmed their sight of

  the Klingons' fury until they could match it with their own.

  He plunged out into the open and scooped up a raw

  wooden club and a stumpy sword from the body of a

  fallen Capellan.

  FIRST STRIKE

  "Spock!" When his first officer turned, Kirk tossed

  him the sword.

  "The doctor is right," Spock said by way of warning.

  "They will target a commanding officer if they can pick yOU Out."

  He was plumbing for Kirk's plans.

  All right.

  "If I don't give them a target," Kirk told him, "they'll

  lay scattering fire and wound as many as they can hit. If I

  let them spot me, they'll concentrate on trying to knock

  me out, preferably hand-to-hand, for the glory of it. I can

  make them fixate on me. Goad them into letting me

  manipulate their battle plan."

  With a nod of understanding, Spock let disapproval

  creep into his expression, but he couldn't fight the sense

  of it.

  "Problem is," Kirk added, "they might target you tOO."

  Spock passed the sword from his left hand to his right.

  "Acceptable, sir."

  "I thought you'd say that. Let's go."

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  53

  Chapter Four

  As atom KLiNgONS came roaring down the incline, disruptors

  holstered and daggers gleaming, Kirk and Spock

  charged out to meet them, pushing as close to the center

  as possible when they finally met the enemies head-on.

  Kirk had to work to draw attention to himself, convince

  the swarming enemy that he was the leader.