Chain of Attack Page 7

  "A flagship of some kind?"

  "Unlikely. As I said, Captain, all craft appear to be identical. It is only the shielded position in the formation that distinguishes the one craft from the others."

  "Interesting. Keep track of that craft, Mr. Spock, even if the formation changes. Lieutenant Granger," Kirk went on, turning toward Lieutenant Uhura's third-watch counterpart, "any subspace radio activity?"

  "None," Granger's bass voice returned. "There hasn't been a peep out of anyone since those bursts."

  "And no possibility of tight-beam transmissions?"

  "Not from that ship, sir, not without our knowing it."

  "Rendezvous complete, Captain," Spock announced. "All have dropped to sublight and are clustered within kilometers of each other."

  "Could they be communicating using something we can't pick up at this distance?"

  "Affirmative, Captain. Direct visual communication is only one of many possibilities our sensors could not detect."

  Whatever the six ships were discussing, if anything, it didn't take long. After less than five minutes clustered in normal space, their velocities so precisely matched they could have been linked by invisible rods, the six split apart and resumed warp speed.

  "Where are they headed, Mr. Spock? And is the same ship still in the center of the formation?"

  "Affirmative, Captain. They are now, in effect, retracing the path of the first craft."

  Kirk grimaced. "Now that they have a posse together, they're coming back to look for us."

  "Apparently, Captain."

  "If the situation arises, how would our screens hold up against the lot of them?"

  "Adequately, Captain, assuming all have the same capability as the first, but we could not resist a great many more."

  "Rather imprecise, Mr. Spock. How many is a great many?"

  "In this case, assuming the Enterprise maintains peak efficiency, I would estimate we could withstand the combined force of those six and another four-point-seven ships before long-term overloading became a significant danger."

  "That's all it would take? Eleven ships like that?"

  "Affirmative, Captain. You must remember that, though their weapons technology is at the level of the very early Federation ships, the destructive energy they can deliver is greater by a factor of more than fifteen. Virtually all their power is devoted to their drive and their weapons, whereas only a small fraction of the power in the early Federation ships was available for weaponry use. With crews of over a hundred on Federation ships, a much greater percentage of available power was utilized in maintaining the necessary environment. These ships do not appear even to maintain an artificial gravity except by constant rotation."

  "Thank you for the history refresher, Mr. Spock," Kirk said with a faint smile as he rotated the command chair once again to face the viewscreen.

  "Mr. Woida," Kirk said to the massive, muscular third-watch helmsman, "continue to track them—but keep us safely outside their sensor range."

  "Yes, Captain," Woida responded in a voice surprisingly soft for a man of his size. "And if they split up?"

  "Unless you receive orders to the contrary, stay with the ship in the center of the formation, the one apparently being protected."

  Nodding his acknowledgment, Woida hunched more closely over his controls, his bulk almost completely hiding them from Kirk's view.

  "Captain Kirk?" The voice came from behind him, superimposed on the hiss of the closing door of the turbolift.

  "Yes, Dr. Crandall?" Kirk said without turning from the viewscreen.

  "What's this about new ships? I heard you summoned to the bridge."

  Kirk gestured at the screen. "Five more ships," he said. "They met and apparently conferred with the first a few minutes ago. Now they're retracing the path of the ship that attacked us."

  "I see. And your plan of action?"

  "For the moment, Doctor, the same as before. Wait and watch."

  "For how long?"

  "At this point, no decision has been made."

  "And if they detect the presence of the Enterprise?"

  "They won't, Doctor, unless we want them to."

  "How can you be—" Crandall began, but he was cut off in midsentence.

  "Another ship, Captain," Spock announced, giving its coordinates. "This one is not identical to the others."

  "More advanced?"

  "It appears to be the product of a roughly equivalent technology. It is traveling at warp two." Spock paused, calling up new readouts. "Antimatter engines and similar armaments. Six life forms on board, not five."

  "Get the new ship on the screen, Mr. Woida, maximum magnification."

  "Yes, sir."

  In a swirl of light, the pinpoint images of the six vanished, replaced by a barely larger image of the seventh.

  "Lieutenant Granger, any indication of subspace radio activity?"

  "None, sir. This one's buttoned up just as tight as the other six."

  "Like the others," Spock added, "its sensors are active, but that is all. The range of its sensors would appear to be slightly less than that of the six."

  "Is it rendezvousing with them?"

  "It would not appear so. However, its present course will take it within sensor range of the six in no more than two-point-five minutes."

  Drumming his fingers lightly on the arm of the command chair, Kirk settled back to wait. Crandall, standing behind the handrail to one side of the turbolift, watched as well, volunteering no comments or further questions.

  "If ye need me," Scott's distinctive burr came over the intercom from engineering, "I'm at the controls."

  "Nice to know, Mr. Scott. Just keep things in their usual first-class shape."

  "Aye, Captain, full power available to all systems—and a wee bit more if ye need it."

  A moment later, the turbolift hissed open again, and a scowling Dr. Leonard McCoy emerged. Looking more rumpled than usual, he came to a stop at the handrail on the opposite side of the platform opening from Dr. Crandall, his eyes darting from Kirk to Spock and back before settling on the viewscreen.

  "Is that the one that attacked us?" McCoy asked after a few seconds.

  "No, Bones," Kirk said, still watching the screen. "It and the other five are off the screen. This one just showed up. It could be from a different faction altogether."

  "Let's hope so. And let's hope this one will give us a chance to talk before it starts shooting."

  "I wouldn't count on it," Kirk said. "According to Mr. Spock, this one is at least as heavily armed as the others, and just as heavily shielded."

  "The six are aware of the newcomer, Captain," Spock announced.

  Kirk's fingers ceased their drumming as he sat up straighter. "What are they doing?"

  "The first to detect it has just now made a subspace transmission apparently identical to the one transmitted to us by the first ship."

  "So it probably is some kind of identification code or recognition signal. Is the other ship responding?"

  "Negative, Captain. It is apparently unaware of the transmission."

  "And of the other ships?"

  "It would seem so." Spock paused, studying his instruments with seeming impassivity. "The same ship has now sent out a burst of subspace energy similar to the one transmitted by our attacker, except that it is shorter by ten milliseconds. And the six are changing course, converging on the newcomer, who is now apparently aware of at least one of them. It, too, has transmitted what appears to be an identification code. Its makeup, however, is quite different, as is the frequency on which it was transmitted."

  "Any response from the six?"

  "None, Captain. And now the newcomer has emitted a burst of subspace energy as well, this one of seventy-nine milliseconds duration."

  "Get us closer, Mr. Woida," Kirk said abruptly, "as close as you can without getting within their sensor range."

  "Yes, sir," the helmsman responded instantly, his square fingers darting across the panels before him.<
br />
  The newcomer was still centered in the viewscreen, and as Kirk watched, one of the six appeared in the upper right quadrant, then another in the lower left.

  "All lasers on five of the six are readying to fire, Captain," Spock said. "Except for the ship that has been at the center of the formation, they appear to be about to launch an attack. The one ship appears to be purposely staying out of range."

  "So they are from different factions," Kirk said, as if thinking aloud.

  "Obviously," McCoy said, moving up next to the command chair. "Aren't you going to do something about it, Jim?"

  "Something like intervene on the newcomer's side? By firing on the other six?"

  "If that's the only way to help, yes!"

  Kirk, his eyes still on the screen, shook his head. "Getting involved in a local war our first day on the block doesn't strike me as all that prudent, Bones. Besides, since we haven't been able to talk to either side yet, we don't even know which side, if either, we should be on."

  McCoy's scowl grew deeper. "We know which side attacked us without warning, Jim!" he said, waving a hand in exasperation. "What the devil more evidence do you need?"

  "There's nothing to say the other ship wouldn't have done the same."

  "The newcomer's lasers are now also preparing to fire," Spock announced.

  On the screen, four of the six were now in view, closing in on the newcomer.

  A moment later, space was crisscrossed with beams of fire, the same brute-force fire that had washed over the shields of the Enterprise thirty-six hours before.

  This time the results were far different. Within seconds, the shields on three of the ships, including the newcomer, had flared upward through the visible spectrum and far into the ultraviolet, then collapsed precipitously. Once the shields were down, the ships were disabled, almost destroyed, in even less time than it had taken to dispose of the shields. Their outer hulls scorched and half melted, their propulsion units dead, they floated helplessly. The remaining four, however, did not close in for the kill, nor did they make any attempt to rescue anyone on their own companion ships. Instead, the three that had launched the attack retreated, reestablishing as much of a protective formation as they could around the fourth.

  "Survivors, Mr. Spock?" Kirk snapped.

  "Four of the six life forms in the newcomer, Captain, but only for another forty-nine seconds. An automatic self-destruct sequence similar to the one observed in the first ship is beginning in all three disabled vessels."

  Kirk's fingers tightened on the arms of the command chair. "Mr. Woida, get us in there, maximum warp! Transporter room, prepare to lock onto survivors! Security, full detail to the transporter room! Be ready for anything when and if the survivors are beamed aboard!"

  Abruptly, the star pattern shifted as the Enterprise reached warp eight in record time. The newcomer's disabled ship swelled explosively on the screen.

  Even before Kirk had completed his orders, McCoy was darting from the bridge. "After what they've been through, they'll need medical help, not a blasted security detail!" he muttered angrily, his voice loud enough for everyone on the bridge to hear.

  "Transporter range coming up, Captain," Spock said. "First antimatter detonation in twenty-six seconds."

  "Sublight, Mr. Woida, and shields down for transporter lock-on!"

  "Shields down," Woida responded instantly, and at the same time the motion of the dense star field on the screen slowed almost to a stop.

  "Transporters locking on," a voice said from the transporter room seconds later.

  Then, for an agonizing ten seconds, there was total silence on the bridge except for Spock's countdown to the seemingly inevitable explosions.

  At eight seconds, a triumphant "Got 'em!" came from the transporter room.

  "Maximum warp and shields up! Transporter room, don't bring them in yet. Keep them in transit until further orders."

  As the disabled ships fell astern, a small nova appeared precisely on schedule, and then, seconds later, two more blossomed into brief, searing life, their deadly energies dissipating harmlessly in the space occupied seconds before by the Enterprise.

  "Mr. Woida, back to warp factor six. Take us to extreme sensor range and hold at that distance. Track the remaining four ships as before. Mr. Spock, is the ship that originally attacked us among the survivors?"

  "Negative, Captain," Spock supplied. "It was the first to be hit."

  "Very well." Abruptly, Kirk stood up. "Mr. Tanaka, you have the con. If they split up, track the one they seem to be protecting. Keep me informed."

  "Yes, sir." His eyes on the screen, Tanaka slid into the chair as Kirk stepped down.

  "Mr. Spock," Kirk said, "let's get down to the transporter room. I'd like to see what we've got."

  Uncharacteristically, Spock did not respond instantly. Instead, he remained bent over his readouts for several seconds, calling up new information. Finally, with a wordless nod to Lieutenant Jameson, the third-watch science officer, he picked up his tricorder, slipped its strap across his shoulder, and hurried to join Kirk at the turbolift.

  "I would advise extreme caution in dealing with the survivors being beamed aboard, Captain," the science officer said as the turbolift door closed behind them.

  "You have some new information, Spock?"

  "My review of certain seemingly anomalous sensor readings confirmed initial indications that the crew compartments on all three ships survived the battle intact. All deaths came after the battle had concluded."

  Kirk frowned as the door opened and the two strode into the corridor toward the transporter room. "You're positive?"

  "Yes, Jim, I'm sure," he said, his voice as controlled as ever but with a trace less formality.

  "And it was the same on all three ships?"

  "Precisely. The only difference is that in the lone ship, four continued to survive."

  "And your instruments couldn't tell you how the other twelve died?"

  "Only that they died with remarkable suddenness. Their life readings vanished within milliseconds. Even violent death is not normally so swift."

  Then they were at the transporter room. Scotty had made his way up from the engineering deck and was manning the controls. A security detail led by Lieutenant Ingrit Tomson stood facing the transporter platform, their phasers in hand. McCoy, a pair of nurses, and several orderlies with stretchers stood behind them, the doctor obviously unhappy that he and the other medical personnel were not in the front row.

  "Jim," he half growled, "after what happened to their ship, these people aren't going to be any threat to anyone! And these blasted security people won't—"

  "Spock, tell Dr. McCoy and everyone else here what you told me," Kirk said, moving to stand beside Scotty at the transporter controls as Spock repeated his findings.

  When Spock had finished, Kirk said, "So you see, gentlemen, these are not ordinary survivors, to say the very least. We don't know what we're bringing aboard. And it would be prudent to keep in mind not only how the disabled ships deliberately exploded their entire antimatter fuel supply but how the ship that originally attacked us acted once it became apparent that it couldn't destroy us with its standard weapons. Whoever and whatever these people are, destruction—including self-destruction—seems to be a way of life with all of them."

  McCoy, though maintaining his skeptical scowl, motioned for the nurses and orderlies to move back, away from the security detail.

  "All right, Mr. Scott," Kirk said, "let's bring one of them in. Security, phasers on stun, and don't hesitate to use them."

  "Number one on the way, Captain," Scott said, sliding the materialization control slowly downward. "He'll be comin' in on transporter number six, at the back."

  All eyes but Spock's swiveled toward the indicated transporter unit, and a moment later the expected shimmering silhouette began to form. Spock, though the arrival registered on his peripheral vision, kept his attention focused on his tricorder.

  "Whatever it is, it
's flat on its back, probably unconscious," McCoy said as the shimmering took definite shape, showing a generally humanoid form lying sprawled across the transporter unit and well beyond.

  "Keep back anyway, Doctor," Kirk said, "just in case."

  Slowly, the shimmering faded and was replaced by the very solid body of the first of the aliens. As McCoy had said, it was unconscious. It was also humanoid, probably male, very stocky and muscular, hairless, and as pale as something that had lived its entire life in darkness. Barely five feet from boot to crown, it was dressed in a drab, utilitarian coverall with short sleeves and half a dozen bulky pockets. There was no sign of anything resembling a weapon. Blood as red as any human's oozed from a cut on the hairless scalp.

  McCoy started forward, but Tomson blocked him. "Reems, Creighton, check for weapons," she snapped, and two of the security detail darted forward, one holstering his weapon and performing the search while the other stood close over the alien, her phaser pointed directly at the sprawled form.

  "This is insane, Jim!" McCoy protested. "He obviously needs medical attention!"

  "No weapons, sir," the searcher reported tersely, standing and retrieving his phaser from its holster.

  "All right, Bones, you can have him. But Security stays with him, too. Lieutenant Tomson, send one guard with Dr. McCoy. And don't hesitate to stun the alien at the first sign of any sudden move. Understood?"

  "Understood, sir," she said, nodding at the man who had conducted the search. "Stay with him, Mr. Reems. You heard the captain."

  "Yes, sir."

  Shaking his head in renewed exasperation, McCoy hurried forward, motioning one of the nurses, an olive-skinned brunette named Garcia, to follow. As he ran the medical tricorder over the alien's body, his scowl faded slightly. "Hard to tell without knowing what's normal for these people, but his injuries appear to be minor. And with red blood and only one heart, he's probably more human than some of us."

  Standing up, McCoy motioned for two of the orderlies to get the alien on a stretcher. One of the two glanced questioningly toward Kirk as he helped shift the body, and when Kirk nodded, the orderly fastened the stretcher's security straps firmly across chest and legs. McCoy only shook his head again, saying nothing but making his impatience plain.