Chapter Twenty-two

APPROXIMATELY TWENTY-THREE minutes and thirty-seven seconds had passed since all eight Falorian vessels had been destroyed. Spock had issued orders that the field surrounding the complex be analyzed, the data prepared, and presented.

The Klingons had grumbled. They felt such a dispassionate, measured approach was, if not precisely dishonorable, at the very least not something about which one would boast. But they had obeyed, and now Spock, McCoy, Uhura, and four Klingons, including the ubiquitous Karglak, sat around a table in the captain’s ready room.

Spock steepled his fingers and listened intently to the information they had been able to gather. Finally, he nodded.

“I regret that we seem to have but one option,” he said, rising and going to the screen that displayed a graphic of the shield. “Although I anticipate that my crew will, on the contrary, be quite pleased with the order I am about to issue.” He indicated the glowing blue shield. “This is not a large area. We can see no noticeable generators. From what little information we have been able to obtain about this facility, most of it is located well below ground. It would seem quite secure, perhaps impregnable. We have little knowledge of the Falorians which would enable us to disable the field by manipulating the frequency.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “We must therefore take a more Klingon approach to the problem. We have disabled all the adversaries who lay in wait to attack us. We know that it is unlikely that the Falorians will spare any vessels from Huanni space to engage in conflict here. Therefore, as I see it, the only option we have is to fire steadily upon the shield and hope that, eventually, it weakens.”

Captain Q’allock let out a roar of approval, and he and the other three banged their fists on the table repeatedly until Spock held up a hand for silence.

“I do not believe it will fall easily, but at the very least we can be an annoyance. A steady attack will busy their computer and people, and with luck cause various outages throughout the complex. It will probably not do any serious damage, but it might provide Captain Kirk with a welcome distraction.”

McCoy’s craggy face spilt into a grin. “No-see-ums, by God!” he exclaimed.

Both of Spock’s eyebrows reached for his hairline. McCoy often uttered colorful phrases that Spock did not quite understand, but this one was truly bizarre.

“I beg your pardon, Dr. McCoy?”

“No-see-ums,” McCoy repeated.

“Your answer does not offer clarification,” Spock said.

“No-see-ums are these little bugs that plague you in the summer, specially in the warmer climates,” McCoy continued. “They were the bane of my existence when I was growing up in Georgia. Gnats, or something, I don’t remember exactly what the little devils are properly called, but they travel in a cloud. They’re very tiny, and you don’t see them until you’re smack dab in the middle of a whole slew of them.”

“Hence the name,” Spock said, nodding. “No-see-um. One does not see them.”

“Knew you’d catch on eventually,” McCoy said. “They’re not dangerous—no bites or stings—but boy, are they annoying! They get in your eyes, your mouth, your nose, your hair—they’ll stop you dead in your tracks and have you dancing around and waving your arms until you’re clear of the cloud.” He sank back in his chair, satisfaction writ plain on his face.

Spock considered McCoy’s words, and then nodded. “It is perhaps an overly enthusiastic, but nonetheless apt, analogy,” Spock said. “We shall be like these insects of Dr. McCoy’s. We shall have very little bite, but undoubtedly we can do a superlative job of aggravating the Falorians. Also Commander Uhura, I want you to do everything you can to block any communication that might originate from the facility.”

Karglak puffed up with pride on Uhura’s behalf, but Uhura herself frowned. “With respect, Mr. Spock, that means that if Captain Kirk tries to contact us, we won’t know it.”

“If we succeed in forcing them to drop the shield, we will be able to contact the captain via his communicator,” Spock said. “If we do not, it is highly possible that the order to activate the virus will be given from this facility, since it is where it was created. I cannot risk—”

The door hissed open. “Captain Spock.” It was Captain Q’allock, who had the bridge in Spock’s absence. “An urgent message from the Federation president is coming in.”

“I will speak with him,” Spock said, rising.

“Sir, it’s a recorded message, sent to all Federation vessels. And us,” he added, clearly feeling a need to distance himself from the “Federation.”

“Patch it through to here,” Spock said. His curiosity was aroused, and though he would not admit it, he felt apprehension stir as well.

Spock felt a start of surprise, quickly suppressed, at the haggard appearance of the president. His white hair was in disarray and there were hollows under his eyes. His body posture sent a clear message of hopelessness even before his words confirmed it.

“Attention all Federation vessels. Before anything else, let me say that you are not, under any circumstances, to engage warp drive until further notice. Consider this as inviolable an order as you have ever received. You have heard about Kal-Tor Lissan’s threatened virus. Our scientists have learned that the Falorians told us only part of the truth. If any infected ship attempts to engage warp drive, the dilithium matrix could destabilize and the crystals may fracture or shatter. An instantaneous warp core breach would occur.”

The president paused and took a deep breath. McCoy and Uhura exchanged glances. Spock kept his eyes on the recording.

“Obviously, not every ship is infected, and there are a very few of you who know with certainty that you are not. We ask you few to hold your positions. It may well be that when this is all over, you will be the only vessels in the Federation capable of warp drive, and as such you will be precious indeed to the cause of unity and freedom in the galaxy.”

“My God,” McCoy breathed. Karglak growled.

“We have the top scientists in the Federation working around the clock to find a way to counter this virus, and we have every hope that they will succeed,” said the president, although Spock noted that his body language belied his confident words. “Stand by until further notice.”

The screen went dark.

“Captain Q’allock,” Spock said, sounding exactly the same as he had before this message had been played, “is this vessel one of the few of which the president spoke?”

“We’ve been nowhere near the pahtk who did this,” the captain said, and turned and spat on the carpeting. “We have been in space for many months. You are the only passengers we have taken on.”

“Your homeworld was one of the sites visited by the Falorian delegation,” Spock said. “We therefore must assume that we, too, have been contaminated.”

“Do you mean to tell me,” Q’allock said, rising anger in his voice, “that you have brought us out here to strand us in orbit around this pathetic planet for the rest of our lives?”

Karglak sprang to his feet. “You shame yourself with those words! We are here on orders from our Chancellor, to fulfill the Year and the Day!”

“It is my understanding that Klingons are willing to die to see an honor debt satisfied,” Spock said calmly. “Are they unwilling to live to see the debt paid?”

The Klingon had no response to that. He folded his arms and glowered.

“We came here to satisfy the DIS jaj je ,” Spock continued. “Let us be about it.”

Lissan stood straight and tall as he reported to his fellow Kal-Toreshi. Even as he spoke with an easy confidence, he felt a brief pang inside. Lying had once been something he had abhorred. Now, it seemed to come to him far too easily. The falsehoods rolled glibly off his tongue. No, the Federation would be no trouble at all. Yes, 858 might have gotten wind of the plot, but Lissan had been able to put him off. No, the colonists weren’t being any problem, and of course Lissan had been able to capture them all. No, 858 had exaggerated the skirmish with the Klingon vessel. The eight ships suffered minor damage but were victorious. Could they see Kirk? Not at the moment, the pesky human was being interrogated. Soon, Lissan promised. On schedule? Of course everything was on schedule. This had been planned down to the last second, why wouldn’t everything be on schedule?

On their end, unless they were lying too, the Kal-Toreshi had very good news to report. Lorall, the aged female who was the head of the small group, fairly radiated pleasure.

“The Huanni are putting up a good fight, but they are no match for our enhanced fleet,” she enthused. “The first few hours have gone well. There is no reason to believe that the planet will not eventually fall to our forces.”

“That is wonderful and welcome news,” Lissan said, and for the first time since the conversation began, knew those words to be the unvarnished truth.

There came a deep rumbling sound, and the image of the Kal-Toreshi was shot through with static. “Lissan?” Lorall’s voice was harsh and buzzing, and her image was fuzzy. “We are having trouble—”

Panicked, Lissan turned off the screen and contacted his head of security. “What is going on?” he demanded, his voice high.

“The Klingon vessels are firing on the shield,” Jasslor reported.

“What’s the damage?”

“Insignificant, sir. We think the shield will hold through several hours, perhaps days, of such bombardment. However, they are also firing into the ground around the shield. There is a great deal of energy rolling off the shield into the surrounding area. The soil and rock is grounding most of it, but we’re still getting power spikes and are going to have to take some systems closer to the surface offline.” Inwardly, Lissan groaned. Security was located immediately below surface level. The chief hesitated, and then added, “It looks like they are also successfully jamming our communications.”

“We are in the final stages of activating the nanoprobe virus,” Lissan said, hissing the words. “We need to be able to communicate. We need to transmit the order that will ensure our victory. We need to not lose data. What are you doing about this?”

“Sir, as I’ve told you, we are very short on security personnel, and with the problems caused by the bombardment—”

“I know, I know, security systems are being taken offline. Then leave the cursed colonists in their hidey-holes. Call all security back in,” Lissan ordered. “It looks like we need them here more.”

Jasslor hunched his shoulders and managed to look more miserable than he had earlier. Lissan had not thought such a thing possible.

“Sir,” he said, “With the communications systems jammed, we can’t contact them to have them report back.”

Lissan was so horrified at how rapidly and severely the situation had deteriorated that for a moment he didn’t even have breath to reply. For the briefest of moments, he felt sheer panic stalking him like a wild beast. No. He would not yield. Wild, uncontrollable emotions were a Huanni trait, not a Falorian.

“Here is what you will do,” he said, calmly. He leaned forward into the screen. “You will find a way to get external communications working again. You will contact all personnel currently searching for the colonists and call them back. You will stabilize the field so that these attacks do not disrupt it further, and you will find Captain Kirk and his comrades and bring them to me. Do I make myself clear?”

Jasslor swallowed. “Yes, sir,” he said.

The minute they were inside, alarms began to ring shrilly. At once, they slammed the door shut. There was no time to let Scott work his magic and reactivate a scrambled security device; Kirk simply fired at the controls. If anyone wanted to get in, they would have to blow open the door or phaser it open physically.

Unfortunately, if they wanted to get out, they would have to do the same.

“We’re in it now for sure,” Julius said.

“Were you ever not?” Kirk asked sharply.

Unexpectedly, Julius smiled. “Once,” he said, “but not anymore.”

Kirk looked around and assessed the situation. They were again in the enormous control center, the very heart of the place. He felt a brief stab of anxiety as he looked at the screen that had once showed the formal reception hall of Starfleet Command. All the screens were blank. No doubt that hall was presently empty, of course; no time for entertainment or festivities now. Here was where Kirk first grasped the vastness of the Falorian plot, although the details had not yet been revealed. Here also was where he had given the order that had caused Chekov’s hands to be so badly damaged. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“Let’s find out which of these is the communication console,” he told Scott. “And make sure you disable any security precautions. I don’t want anyone else injured.”

At that moment, they heard sounds from outside. Someone was banging on the doors.

They had been discovered.

“Time’s a-wasting, gentlemen,” Kirk said. He took up a position at the door, phaser at the ready. The guards might eventually break through, but Kirk was going to stop at least a few of them. Chekov, too, stepped beside him and lifted his phaser.

Scott and Julius went from console to console, trying to find the right one. Skalli trailed behind them, craning her long neck and wringing her hands, but keeping silent.

“I think that’s it,” Julius said. “Some of the readings look similar to other communications devices I’ve seen the Falorians using. What do you think?”

The banging stopped. A new sound could be heard faintly over the shrill alarm; the high-pitched whine of a phaser adjusted to a fine cutting edge.

Scott didn’t reply, but glanced from the console to the tricorder and back. Finally he nodded his nearly white head. “Aye, that looks about right. I’ll take it from here, lad.”

“Maybe I can help?” Skalli said.

“You’ve been useful indeed, lass,” Scott said. “Step in here and have a look.”

A tiny hole appeared in the heavy metal door, surrounded by a shower of sparks. Kirk and Chekov exchanged glances. They still had some time, but not much. Kirk adjusted his grip on the phaser.

“Uncle Jim?” Julius’s voice was surprisingly quiet, devoid of its usual surly undertones.

“I’m a bit busy, Julius,” Kirk replied.

“I’d like to help. Scott and Skalli are busy at the console. Let me have a phaser. I’ll stand with you.”

Kirk glanced at him sharply. The blood had dried on his now-swelling face, but for the first time since Kirk had seen him his expression was almost tranquil. He knew they could all die here. And he knew what he was asking.

“All right, Julius. Take Mr. Scott’s phaser. It will be an honor to have you at our backs.”

Slowly, despite the pain it must have caused his damaged jaw, Julius smiled, and for the first time, Kirk saw the boy in the face of the man.

The black line had grown to an inch now.

The howling siren stopped. Kirk’s ears felt hot from the cessation of the sound. Then came another sound.

“Captain Kirk,” came Lissan’s voice. “So, I have found you at last.”