Constellations (21 page)

“Captain,”
Scotty's voice said.
“I'm getting a nasty cascade reaction in the dilithium chamber. I'm gonna need to stop and reconfigure pretty soon.”

“You'll have to wait a bit, Scotty.” Kirk rose, stepped forward, put a hand on Sulu's shoulder. He pointed up at the viewscreen. “They're coming around?”

“Aye, sir.” Sulu consulted the astrogator. “Converging in a vee formation.”

“How long till they're back in phaser range?”

Sulu frowned. “Ninety seconds or so.”

Kirk strode back to his chair, pressed the comm button. “Kirk to sickbay.”

“M'Benga here.”

“Doctor, I could really use my science officer up here. Any progress?”

“None, sir. They're both still inside.”

Kirk hesitated. “Keep me posted.” He glanced up at the screen, which showed the two cruisers headed back toward the
Enterprise.
“Mr. Chekov?”

“Ah, sir…the lead ship shows coil emissions vithin normal tolerances. The other one…” He hesitated.

“Yes?”

Chekov looked up, shrugged helplessly. “It's…fluctuating.”

“Captain,” Uhura said. “Hangar deck just lost pressure again. Repair crews dispatched.”

“Aft shields failing,” Sanchez said. “Down to 22 percent.”

Kirk waved them both off. He surveyed the bridge: Sanchez looked frightened, grimacing as she plotted possible sublight vectors. Sulu was frowning, making small course corrections calmly, deliberately. Uhura's hands were a blur as she coordinated damage control reports from a dozen departments. Finally, Kirk's gaze rested on Chekov, who seemed to be struggling with the science station controls.

Kirk thought:
I need Spock.

“Back us off, Mr. Sulu,” Kirk said. “See if you can buy us a minute or two.”

“Aye, sir.”

“And ready phasers.” Then Kirk rose, moved to stand next to Chekov. “Mr. Chekov. That damaged ship—the trailing one. Give me precise coil emissions and shield strengths on its two nacelles.”

Chekov looked up. “Sir?”

“Now.”

“Aye, sir.” He grimaced. “T-together or separately?”

“Aft shields down to 16 percent.” Sanchez's voice was grim.

“Separately!” Kirk felt the pressure building. “Sulu—the ships are coming around in formation, right?”

“Yes, sir.” Sulu looked down briefly. “Phaser range in forty seconds.”

“Captain,”
said Scotty,
“I can't divert any more power to the aft shields—”

“Understood, engineer.” Kirk whirled toward Chekov. “Science officer—your report!”

Trembling, Chekov read off a series of numbers.

Kirk listened, then strode down toward helm control. “Mr. Sulu. Move us in toward the damaged ship. Heading: 185 mark 28.”

Sulu glanced at the captain. “Mark 28. Aye, sir.”

Ahead of them, the two ships nearly filled the viewscreen. Their front sections glowed bright against the stars.

Chekov said, “They are charging phasers—”

“I know.” Kirk pointed at a display, spoke urgently to Sulu. “Lock our phasers on that nacelle there.”

“Phasers locked.”

“Enemy ship is firing!” Sanchez exclaimed.

The ship shook. Kirk staggered backward but kept his balance.

“Forward shields holding.”

“So we just have to keep them from getting behind us…till we can pull this off.” Kirk lowered his voice, practically hissing in Sulu's ear. “Do you have a lock?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Steer us in a little closer.” On the screen, the image tilted, and the one ship drew closer. “Just one minute more…”

“Captain—”

“Not
now,
Sanchez.”

Kirk stood, watching the numbers fly by on Sulu's console. All around him, voices chattered: damage control, shield strength, phaser power, casualty reports. Spock would have sorted it all out, cut through all this mess—all these voices—and told him exactly what he needed to know.

But Spock wasn't here. Might never be here again.

And McCoy…

“Enemy ship firing again!” Sanchez said. Her voice was frantic.

“Captain?” Sulu prompted.

With a sick feeling, Kirk realized he'd waited too long.

The bridge shook. Kirk pitched forward, catching himself on the astrogator console next to Sulu. “Fire!” he yelled.

Sulu pressed the firing button.

Energy stabbed out from the
Enterprise,
sparking and flashing as it struck the enemy ship's left nacelle. On the viewscreen, the Klingon vessel lurched, tilted sideways.

“Captain,” Chekov said, “the other ship is—”

“Maintain fire. Hold that lock!”

Kirk reached out a hand, thumbed the viewscreen magnification back a notch. Both ships were visible now. The
Enterprise
phasers continued their assault on the damaged cruiser, which was beginning to veer off course. The other ship glowed with energy; clearly it was about to fire again.

“Casualty reports coming in,” Uhura said.

“We're almost through their shield,” Sulu said. “But our phaser power is fading.”

“Hold on,” Kirk replied. “Ready photon torpedoes.”

The blue energy-stream sliced into the Klingon ship's warp nacelle. Then, abruptly, the nacelle broke apart. The cruiser pitched, sparked, fires dissipating off into space from its exposed warp engine. It lurched, pitched sideways…

…and grazed the other Klingon ship's shields. Sparks flew into space, and the second ship's phasers fired wild, into the void.

“Photon torpedoes, fire,” Kirk ordered.

Bright pulses of destruction shot out of the
Enterprise,
bombarding the twin ships. As Kirk watched, they struck the healthy Klingon cruiser, detonating harmlessly against its shields. The other one wasn't so lucky; explosions and fires dotted its surface.

“Five…six direct hits,” Sanchez said.

“Damaged cruiser's shields are at near zero strength,” Chekov said. “She is heading off.”

Kirk whirled, sat down in his chair. “Uhura, open a channel to the remaining Klingon vessel.”

“Channel open.”

On the viewscreen, a dark, furrowed face in black and silver appeared, surrounded by the smoky, regimented bustle of a Klingon imperial bridge.

“This is Captain Kirk to the Klingon ship,” Kirk said. “It's one on one now, Commander. Do you want to make the first move, or can we resolve this peacefully?”

The face stood, glaring, for a long moment. The Klingon said nothing.

Then the screen flickered, returned to forward view. The Klingon cruiser turned, began a slow arc away.

“They're moving off.” Sulu smiled. “Taking refuge with the other ship, behind that large moon.”

“The Klingons like to fight in close quarters. We were able to turn that against them—this time. But they'll be back.” Kirk could sense the admiring gazes of his bridge crew, but he felt no sense of triumph. He shook his head.

“Uhura. Damage report?”

“Seven casualties on lower decks, sir. None fatal.”

Kirk grimaced, pressed the comm button. “Engineer. Time to warp drive?”

“Should still be about an hour, sir. Repairs already under way.”

Kirk rose, and once more his disapproving gaze swept across the bridge. “That was sloppy all around,” he said. “The Klingons will probably be back before we can depart this area. Let's do better next time.” He looked pointedly at Chekov, then strode to the lift.

“Sulu, you have the conn. Run continuous drills. If anything happens, call me immediately.”

The lift doors hissed shut, and he was alone.

Kirk exhaled heavily. The turbolift hummed, waiting for his command.

“Sickbay,” he said.

When Kirk was gone, the bridge crew seemed to exhale all at once. Sanchez looked over at Sulu expectantly. The helmsman shook his head, sighed.

Uhura raised an eyebrow. “Rough day.”

Chekov stared into the science station viewer, his head in his hands. “I think my career is over.”

Sulu stood up and crossed to the young ensign, put a hand on his shoulder. “My first week aboard, I accidentally pressed an active plasma torch against the matter/antimatter reaction chamber. Nearly blew up the ship.” He smiled. “The chief engineer taught me a few…exotic Scottish expressions. But I got over it.”

Chekov looked up, smiled back sadly.

Then Sulu straightened, looked around. “Okay, you all heard the captain,” he said. “Battle stations.”

 

“This is very odd,” Spock says. “And yet…strangely logical.”

He gazes around at his surroundings. A neatly trimmed mass of green vegetation rises to a height of twelve feet in all directions, with an opening dead ahead. Through the hole, Spock can make out another wall…and, past that, yet another.

They have been walking through this huge, sunny garden for an indefinite period of time, and Spock has determined that it forms a maze. The bushes, all meticulously squared off, seem to be leading them to some unpredictable destination.

A phrase comes to his mind, half remembered:
…lies in cultivating a garden where it may bloom.

“Of course it's logical,” McCoy replies. “We're inside your brain.”

Spock looks at him sharply. He knows this man, but he cannot remember exactly how. When he looks at McCoy, he feels a strong sense of friendship…but also a guardedness. A vague memory of attacks, of challenges to his intellect.

“I should…return to the classroom,” Spock says, fighting down a sudden stab of panic. “If I lose the challenge, I will not be passed forward into the Science Academy.”

“Spock. Listen to me.” McCoy grabs the Vulcan's shoulders, turns to face him directly. “You're not on Vulcan. You're on the
Enterprise.
You are first officer and science officer there—you have been for years. Do you remember?”

Spock shakes free, turns away. A mockingbird screeches, breaking his concentration.

“The Klingons captured you—subjected you to their mind-ripper,” McCoy continues. “They tortured you mentally, and you retreated into your mind using Vulcan mental disciplines. You retreated
here.
”

Again, the panic. A burst of images: fiery combat in space. Cruel, bearded men in metal mesh vests. A machine with arms like snakes, cold and metallic and unstoppable, violating his mind.

Then pain. And the questions:

Fleet strength. Federation expansion plans. Starship deployment.

No,
Spock recalls thinking.
I will not answer.

More pain. And the snake-machine, hissing and probing his innermost thoughts. Pain. Chaos. Pain. No escape, no solution. The only option: draw on his training.

On Chaotic Response Suppression.

“…got you out,” McCoy is saying. “And we grabbed the mind-ripper, too. I'm using it right now, Spock. You've got to listen to me.”

Spock shakes his head, looks around. This McCoy…he knows he should trust him. But what if it's another attack…another manifestation of the snake?

“You're in too deep, Spock. Only you can get yourself out of this.” And McCoy reaches for him…

The mockingbird screeches; the sky darkens. Thunder roars from the sky.