Myriad Universes_ Echoes And Refractions Part 9

"That's right," Kirk replied. "A poem, actually. It means that despite our best intentions, things often don't turn out like we'd planned."

David considered this. "Yeah, I guess. So now that my life's work is destroyed, what do I do now?"

"You figure out where you belong, David," Kirk a.s.sured him. "Where you can make a difference. And whatever you decide to do, I'll be behind you."

Back aboard the Katai, Sulu settled into the pilot's chair at the helm. "Did anyone think to bring a translator for written Klingon?" he chuckled.

"Take your time, Sulu," Thelin responded. "We're in no huge hurry to get back. For all we know, Federation police will be waiting to arrest us the moment we enter Earth orbit." He turned toward the line of prisoners standing in front of the navigation and weapons stations and gestured toward the doors with his phaser. "All right, all of you. To the transporter room. Let's go."

The Klingons moved in single file toward the exit. Kruge brought up the rear, following Maltz, with Thelin next to him, keeping him under guard. As they pa.s.sed the final console closest to the doors-the weapons console-Kruge suddenly barked out, "Maltz! DaH!!!" And Kruge spun around, lunged, and grabbed Thelin by the throat.

Taken completely by surprise, the Andorian stumbled backward several steps and wheezed as the fingers of Kruge slowly constricted his windpipe, while the Klingon's hot breath beat down upon him.

In the same instant, Maltz whirled to face the weapons console directly behind him. Several feet away at the helm, Sulu leaped from his chair.

Thelin, still gripping his phaser firmly in his right hand, pressed it into the center of Kruge's chest and pulled the trigger. The Klingon's grinning face winced in pain.

In the fleeting moment before Sulu tackled him, Maltz pounded his fist down upon the firing control. The two of them tumbled in a heap of arms and legs onto the deck. The percussive sound of a torpedo launch echoed through the hull.

Thelin felt the grip of Kruge's fingers upon his neck slowly relax, and the dishonored commander sank to the floor and onto his back, his face still frozen in a twisted smile, his chest bearing the mark of an intense burn from Thelin's weapon. The phaser had merely been set to stun, but at point-blank range, the force of such a shot was almost certainly lethal.

A blinding flash emanated from the viewscreen behind them as the torpedo explosively impacted the secondary hull of the Enterprise. Her shields having been lowered for transport, there was nothing to mitigate the force of the blast.

The frantic voice of Scotty sounded over the intercom. "This is Enterprise! What the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l are ye doin'?!"

Thelin rushed over to the communications console. Punching a control, he opened the two-way channel and put the Scotsman's stunned face upon the viewscreen. "Scotty! Are you all right? Did Kirk and David make it on board?"

"Aye, they're here, but ye made a direct hit on the warp core! All the main power systems are damaged; I canna even get a readin' on the antimatter containment! What happened?"

"We had some trouble with our prisoners. Stand by," Thelin said anxiously. He rushed by Sulu, who had regained control over the three remaining captives, and thrust himself into the seat at the science station at the aft end of the bridge. Tapping the controls, he performed a quick scan and produced a display of the Enterprise's status. The results were chilling.

Sulu peered over the Andorian's shoulder. "Hull breach on deck fourteen," he said ominously. "That's the upper level of the engineering section."

"Scotty," Thelin called out. "Can you shut down the antimatter intermix?"

"Aye," he replied. "But the automation system is down. I'll have to get down ta engineering."

"You'd better hurry, Scotty. I'm reading a runaway reaction in the intermix chamber...probably caused by a coolant leak. If it isn't stopped, it could build up to a core breach in less than five minutes."

Kirk quickly moved into the frame next to Scott on the viewer. "Chekov! Are you still in the Katai transporter room?"

"Yes, sir!" the voice of Chekov replied.

"Stand by," Kirk said.

The Enterprise bridge was illuminated by the eerie red glow of emergency lighting as Admiral Kirk moved from station to station, growing increasingly frustrated at the lack of useful information being provided on the readouts.

"Scotty," Kirk said urgently. "Is there any chance of restoring auxiliary power?"

"Perhaps," he replied. "But I canna do it from here. Nae without a crew down there." He rose from his seat and began to head for the bridge exit. "Don't worry. I've got a few more miracles left."

"Scotty, wait!" Kirk ran up to intercept him before he reached the door. "Engineering is fourteen decks down, and we're without turbolifts or transporters." He put a hand on Scotty's shoulder. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but you're not as spry as you once were."

Scott's eyes widened with indignation. "Well, I ne'er...!"

"We're completely blind over here. I need you on the other ship to monitor our status, and to guide me if I get into trouble. There's no time to debate. That's an order."

Scott sighed. "Aye," he said resignedly. "But when I get back, we're gonna have a wee little conversation about respect for your elders."

"Fair enough," Kirk said as he flipped open his communicator. "Kirk to Chekov. Beam the other four over to the Katai, and keep this channel open. I'm on my way to engineering." Scott, McCoy, David, and Saavik disappeared into the twinkle of the transporter beam; and Kirk was alone. He clipped the communicator to his belt and headed through the port side exit.

Kirk emerged from the Jefferies tube onto deck seven and rushed down the main corridor to the access door for turboshaft three.

The door opened onto a short platform protruding into the wide cylindrical area of the shaft where the turbolifts traversed the span between the decks of the secondary hull. Stepping onto the platform and turning to his left, he gripped the rungs of the vertical access ladder running alongside, and began a quick descent to the engineering section seven decks below.

Knowing he was in a race against time, he skipped over every other rung, and his hands simply slid along the outer frame of the ladder. He was forced to count the decks as he pa.s.sed them, for they were not labeled on the interior of the shaft, although he noted with annoyance that the designers had elected to number the numerous individual turbolift landing decks-each level having several turbolift stops along its breadth-as he pa.s.sed a sign misleadingly indicating "Deck 52."

Thelin's voice rang out from the communicator, still active, hanging on Kirk's belt. "Jim...We estimate less than one minute before antimatter containment becomes critical. After that, the only option is to eject the pods from the warp core."

"Acknowledged, Captain," Kirk replied. "I've reached the upper engineering level. Stand by." He swung from the ladder onto the platform and forced his way through the access door.

Instantly his senses were a.s.sailed by the lingering effects of an electrical firestorm. Clouds of smoke bellowed forth, and his lungs protested as he waved his hands in front of his face, waiting for the polluted air to vent into the turboshaft behind him. His eyes burned, and he blinked rapidly in an attempt to focus on the scene laid out before him.

To his left, a gaping hole in the hull provided an accidental window to the starfield outside, with emergency forcefields in place to hold in the pressurized atmosphere. To his right, he looked down on the lower deck of main engineering, where every console was little more than a burned-out sh.e.l.l-some smoking, some still shooting forth electrical sparks. The torpedo's explosion had triggered a raging inferno throughout the engineering section, and without any damage-control teams on board, no one was available to put out the blaze.

The warp core itself, while blackened from the effects of the fire, appeared to be uncompromised. However, the characteristic hum of the warp drive seemed much louder and more high-pitched than what would be expected from a ship at full stop. Without sufficient coolant to stem the reaction, a failure of the antimatter containment could be imminent.

"Scotty, are you reading me?"

"Aye," came the response from the communicator still strapped to Kirk's belt.

"The engineering section is gutted...it's a total loss. We have no computer control over anything."

"You'll have ta manually close the valves on the vertical intermix chamber," Scotty said. "On the lower level, there's an access panel in the floor on the aft side of the warp core, beneath the horizontal chamber. Right in front o' the junction."

"I read you, Scotty. Stand by." Kirk swiftly shimmied down the ladder to the lower level. Aided by the ever-increasing light from the warp plasma in the core directly before him, he threw aside the floor panel and gripped the spokes of the wheel for the cut-off valve. He twisted it rapidly, despite a new awareness that he was growing quite fatigued.

"Jim," Thelin broke onto the comm channel. "We're reading an awful lot of radiation leakage throughout that section. It's approaching dangerous levels."

"Acknowledged," Kirk replied as the wheel came to a halt in the closed position. "Intermix valves are closed." He stood up, but perhaps too abruptly-his vision suddenly clouded, and his knees buckled. He dropped back to one knee. He found himself longing for some fresh air, as it seemed that he could not catch his breath.

The sounds of random chatter began to stream forth from the communicator. "No effect," the voice of Thelin said. "The magnetic bottles are too far weakened. Containment is still failing."

"Aye," Scotty acknowledged. "The coolant leak must be more widespread than we thought."

Kirk took a deep breath. "Status, gentlemen?" he asked with frustration.

"Admiral," Scotty replied. "It's no use. We've got ta eject the antimatter pods within the next two minutes or the explosion will destroy the whole ship. Without computer control, you'll have to manually detonate the explosive bolts. It's five decks below."

Kirk considered this. His strength was failing him as the effects of the radiation sapped the energy reserves from his body; he didn't know if he could reach his target in the allotted time. But was such an effort really justified? The ship had been racked with horrific damage from the a.s.saults of Khan, and now from the Klingons. She was now just a sh.e.l.l of a once mighty vessel, but she had served her purpose this day: David was alive and well. So why was Kirk still clinging to the past when he should be looking to the future?

"Chekov," he said. "Beam me out of here."

"Aye, Admiral," the commander responded. "Prepare for transport."

The reddish hue of the Klingon transporter effect enveloped his body, and he waited for his surroundings to morph into the less familiar environs of the Klingon transporter room. Several seconds pa.s.sed. The process seemed to be taking far too much time.

Eventually the effect dissipated, but Kirk remained among the charred consoles of the Enterprise engine room. Still kneeling, he removed the communicator from his belt and brought it up to his face, hoping that the urgency in his voice might carry more effectively. "Chekov? What's wrong?"

"Stand by, sir," came the anxious response.

Frantic shuffling sounds streamed forth, which Kirk soon interpreted to be Scotty entering the Katai transporter room to a.s.sist Chekov. "Just as I thought," the Scotsman said. "Admiral, the breach is causin' too much gamma radiation leakage in your vicinity. It's interferin' wit the transporter beam. If ye can move toward the aft end of the deck, we might get a clearer signal."

Kirk struggled to his feet and broke into a run alongside the lengthy horizontal intermix chamber that extended many meters back toward the rear of the ship. The muscles in his legs burned with exhaustion, and a wave of nausea flooded over him. His vision again began to leave him, and his balance soon followed, sending him toppling onto the deck. His breath came in quick gasps as he fought to remain conscious. "Scotty," he gasped. "I think you'd better try again."

The transporter beam enveloped him once again, but this time, the duration was much shorter and ended more abruptly. The cold steel of the engineering deck remained solidly beneath him.

"Ach!" Scotty shouted. "It's these infernal Klingon transporters. The coils are overheatin'. We can try again in about forty-five seconds."

Kirk fought the urge to close his eyes and succ.u.mb to beckoning sleep. "Thelin...estimated time until the core breaches?"

A pause. "About...thirty seconds, Jim."

Kirk was able to do the math. "Raise your shields, Thelin."

Clearly mortified, knowing that transport was not possible through raised deflector screens, the Andorian stammered his reply. "Sir, we...we can still try to beam you out before-"

"The explosion could destroy your ship, too!" Kirk shouted with a final burst of strength. "Now, raise the shields!"

Another pause, and Thelin's reply came, sounding as if no words in his lifetime had ever been more painful. "Aye, sir."

Kirk's field of vision began to dissolve into thousands of twinkling points of light as he began to succ.u.mb to the effects of the radiation. And yet he was content. Alone, he and his lady would meet their final fate together-while his legacy would live on in his progeny.

"So here it is...the no-win scenario," he mumbled with a smile. "How did I do?"

And consciousness left him for the last time.

In the instant before the transmission went dead, the speakers aboard the Katai roared with a fearsome din as a shock wave shattered the hull surrounding Kirk's communicator, and a moment later a raging fireball consumed every cubic inch of the artificial atmosphere within the body of the doomed vessel.

The viewscreen displayed the exterior view of the Enterprise as her graceful curves were fractured, torn asunder by the forces of the h.e.l.lish inferno. The doors to the bridge opened, allowing Scotty and Chekov to rush in, only to witness the horror playing out before them. Together with the rest of the crew, they beheld the destruction of what had been a home for long years, and the death of a man who, if not literally their father, had provided the wisdom of a father in so many ways.

As the sad wreckage slowly drifted out of view, Thelin marched back over to the three remaining members of the Katai crew. He grabbed Maltz roughly by his garments and pulled the Klingon's face close to his own. "If you so much as twitch a muscle without my command," the livid Andorian snarled, "I will kill you where you stand."

Maltz smiled contentedly, appearing relaxed and at peace with himself and with his sense of fulfilled honor. "It is a good day to die," he said.

"Have it your way," Thelin hissed, and he flung Maltz to the deck. He pulled out his phaser and, in a merciless instant, blasted the Klingon's supine form into its component atoms.

The journey back to Earth was a solemn one. Sulu and Chekov quietly set about piloting the ship. Scott threw himself into the work of familiarizing himself with Klingon engineering. David secluded himself in his quarters, and Saavik expressed to McCoy her fears that the young scientist might be on the verge of a complete psychological breakdown. And Thelin mostly sat alone, in a h.e.l.l of his own making, torturing himself with second guesses about the mission.

The bridge doors opened and Leonard McCoy entered, having just completed a cursory inventory of the Klingon sickbay-and based upon his mood, it seemed clear that he wasn't exactly pleased with what he had discovered. He approached the tactical station, where Thelin sat silently staring at a technical display. "How you holding up, old friend?"

The Andorian didn't turn his head. "I suppose you mean to tell me that I need to be rational and control my emotions."

"Not at all," McCoy said, easing into the chair next to him. "Grief is an emotion that we all need to work through. But if I know you...and I think I do...you're beating yourself up over this."

"Kirk is dead because I couldn't secure a d.a.m.n prisoner."

"No, your prisoner destroyed the Enterprise," McCoy corrected him. "Kirk died because he's a gambler, and after beating the odds to save David-which, I might add, wouldn't have been possible without you-he decided to double down on the only other thing he's ever loved, which was that ship."

Thelin recalled the years spent at Kirk's side as his first officer-the numerous times that they had faced death together, and came through unscathed. "You're right, of course...but as gamblers go, he was never reckless. With Jim, life was always a series of risks calculated to increase the odds of a better future...for everyone."

McCoy smiled. "So we shouldn't question the choices he made today. This is an opportunity for us to celebrate everything he accomplished in life. I think you'll find that each one of us will look back on this day and remember the lessons he wanted us to learn...even now."

They continued to maintain radio silence for the duration of the trip. Thelin knew that the time would come when they all must answer to Starfleet for their actions, but for now, headquarters knew only of the improper "borrowing" of the Enterprise by a rogue group of officers. Thelin was not yet prepared to explain the loss of said ship and the death of a respected Starfleet admiral-Kirk's latest and final indiscretion notwithstanding-even though their arrival in a captured Klingon bird-of-prey would certainly prompt those questions and more.

As they entered the Sol sector and Chekov plotted their approach to the Terran system, their impending return forced Thelin and his crew at least to begin monitoring the subs.p.a.ce transmissions to gauge what kind of a welcome-or lack thereof-they might antic.i.p.ate. No sooner had they activated the receiver and put the audio on the ship's speakers than they heard the terse response from the Klingon High Council to the capture of their ship.

"capture of the I.K.S. Katai by the aggressive and unprovoked actions of Starfleet! To the men responsible: You are in illegal possession of property of the Klingon Defense Force, and you are holding the crew of the Katai without cause. We demand the immediate return of the vessel and its crew and redress for the injurious nature of these actions! Furthermore, unless Starfleet wishes to declare this incident as an act of war, the men responsible are to be turned over to the Klingon Empire forthwith to face immediate trial for their actions. Message will repeat. This is Brigadier Kerla of the"

Thelin switched off the speakers in disgust. He looked over at Sulu and Chekov at the helm.

"Well," Sulu said. "At least Starfleet has plausible deniability."

"Perhaps, but..." Thelin shook his head. "Little good that will do them if we start a war."

"Bah," Chekov spat. "With what they did to Kirk's son? Then to blow up the Enterprise with the admiral aboard? We didn't start a thing. But we might finish it!"

Thelin held up his hand, stopping Chekov's rant. His other hand was held over the earpiece as he monitored the subs.p.a.ce transmissions broadcast from Earth. His face grew more troubled as he continued to listen. "It's President Roth!" he said softly. "Listen..." He flipped on the ship's speakers.

"-of the United Federation of Planets. Do not approach Earth. The transmissions of an orbiting probe are causing critical damage to this planet. It has almost totally ionized our atmosphere. All power sources have failed. All Earth-orbiting starships are powerless. The probe is vaporizing our oceans. We cannot survive unless a way can be found to respond to the probe. Further communications may not be possible. Save your energy. Save yourselves. Avoid the planet Earth at all costs. Farewell..."

Thelin dropped the earpiece, and the three men on the bridge sat staring at one another in bewildered silence.

5.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Federation Council, and honored guests...With heavy hearts we a.s.semble today for this, the first meeting of the Federation Council since the inexplicable attack by an unknown probe nearly one month ago."

Federation President Hiram Roth delivered his opening remarks from the podium at the head of the council chambers, on the first floor of the Palais de la Concorde in Paris, France. Outside the recently reinforced windows along the length of the side walls, behind the rows of council members and other dignitaries in attendance, the gale-force winds and driving rain continued to beat interminably against the gla.s.s, testing the resolve of the men and women within, who defied the wrath of nature as it struck out at them like a wounded animal.

The president had been quite adamant that, despite the wanton destruction leveled upon Earth by the probe a month earlier and the dangerous weather patterns that had persisted in the time since, the council would nonetheless meet on Earth as a symbol of their perseverance and fort.i.tude. Being an Earth native, Roth had received a fair amount of resistance to the idea, many believing that his judgment was compromised by his grief over his homeworld, and indeed the pain in his normally staid bearded face was apparent as he addressed the a.s.sembly. But no one could doubt his inspiring determination to overcome this tragedy.

"Before we begin," Roth continued, "I should like us all to observe a moment of silence for those who lost their lives in the devastation wrought that fateful day, as well as for those enduring souls who remain, many of whom still await a.s.sistance, suffering and starving without any access to the basic services needed for survival. I should like us to remember all of the fine men and women in San Francisco, who perished in the destruction of Starfleet Headquarters, including many of our most respected leaders: Admiral Lance Cartwright, Admiral William Smillie, and the Vulcan representative to the Federation, Amba.s.sador Sarek."