THE WAITING WAS MADDENING.
"Analysis, Mr. Spock?"
"I believe the shot was intended to divert us from rescuing the Sparrow, not to engage us in battle. They may not fire another shot."
"But if they do, we're helpless. Can we fire phasers against them?"
Spock and Flint exchanged glances. Then Spock shook his head. "No, sir. The phaser apparatus is still rigged to fire fluorescent particles. The possible imminence of a battle did not occur to us when we were adapting it."
"There was no reason why it should have. So all we've got, right now, are photon torpedoes?"
"Yes, Captain. But as the torpedoes are energy efficient, in terms of launching them, we could probably safely fire one before Mr. Scott finishes his readjustments."
Kirk confirmed this with Scotty. "Mr. Sulu, fire one photon torpedo past the right side of the Klingon ship, as a warning shot. Make sure you do not injure the Klingon ship."
Once more, Michaels burst the quiet tension of the room. "One torpedo? Wasted on purpose? They attacked us. They're testing your resolve. And you're playing games with them?"
"Ensign Michaels, you are relieved of duty. Report to your quarters and stay there." Without waiting to watch the young man register this and comply, Kirk repeated, "Fire, Mr. Sulu."
As the turbolift doors whooshed shut on Michaels, a tight ball of flame shot out of the wounded arching neck of the Enterprise and sailed past the right wing of the Klingon vessel.
"Now," Kirk said, "let's hope they don't call our bluff."
The viewscreen of the Sparrow had afforded the tiny ship a panoramic view of the fluorescence shooting toward it. Soon the ship was enveloped, and the screen showed the stars and the Enterprise through a veil of pink and purple. Jahn swore, exclaimed that he'd been tagged, been marked. Rhea simply closed her eyes in gratitude that her move had been enough, that they were invisible no longer.
The fluorescence soaked through the hull of the ship, giving the room a curious ghostly glow. It was a comforting light; they had been in the eye of a storm, and now, it seemed to Rhea, they were in the eye of a rainbow, a nexus of color.
Through the shimmering haze, Jahn cheered on a battle in space that appeared on the screen, but at the sight of the Klingon ship, Rhea's heart sank. It was the same scary-looking kind of ship as had attacked them when they wandered into the other space. It had come after them. Even if the blond Grup was their friend, even if he was ready to forgive them, something told her that these other Grups would not.
"The Klingons have put up their shields," Sulu reported.
"Uhura, open a channel to the Klingon ship. Let's make them think we feel strong enough to bargain."
"Aye, aye, Captain. Stand by for audio-visual contact."
Once more the smirking face of Commander Kreth appeared on the main screen.
"Well, Kirk. You do not seem to have activated your shields. You enjoy living dangerously?"
"You must enjoy living dangerously, Kreth. What are you doing in Federation star space? And our shields are down because we've got some transporting to do."
"Do you indeed. It was very obliging of you to outline the form of the renegade Federation ship, which entered Klingon space for its attacks, so that we may now claim it and the saboteurs on board. And we want to investigate this interesting way you seem to have thwarted your own new cloaking device."
"Cossack," Chekov muttered, under his breath.
Kreth crept across his bridge with the easy assurance of a tarantula in its lair. In a chair by the wall sat Iogan, the young boy minister from Boaco Six. His eyes followed Kreth's form, then flicked to a young Klingon who sat near him. On the young Klingon's face the skin in places appeared raised in bubbles. Kirk knew this meant that the crewman had been punished for some breach of regulations with an atom-air gun, a horribly painful Klingon device for maintaining discipline. It shot gas into the skin of the victim, causing cells to rupture, explode. Kirk hoped the young Boacan had been on hand when the punishment was administered. It would give him some insight into his Klingon "friends."
Kirk stared calmly at Kreth. "The Federation will take responsibility for this small ship. Your claims for justice will be heard in due course by the Council of the Federation of Planets," he said firmly.
Kreth snorted. "We prefer to procure justice for ourselves." He narrowed his eyes at Kirk. "Why did you fire a torpedo at us, just now, instead of using phasers?"
"To show you we mean business. That we're willing to fight if you are." Silently Kirk prayed that Kreth would not take him up on this. Without shields, without phasers, the Enterprise did not stand a chance. In his mind, Kirk pictured his majestic silver ship being ripped apart by Klingon phasers. He would be almost powerless to respond.
Finally, Kreth responded. "There is no need for us to fight, Captain. Why, we have no quarrel with you. Only with the pirates in that small ship. Do not interfere, and there will be no trouble. Kreth out." His image winked off the screen.
The crew on board the bridge of the Enterprise gave a collective sigh of relief. Kirk's bluff had apparently worked.
"A well-played hand, Captain," said Flint.
"Mr. Scott," Kirk yelled into the intercom, "we need those shields, and that phaser power!"
"We're going as fast as we can, Captain. But that one Klingon phaser blast was well placed. It sliced into one of our generator units. I'm going to have to redivert power around it. I'm switching life support, and other of the ship's functions, onto impulse power. But it'll take some time."
"Time is what we don't have, Scotty. Kirk out."
"Captain, look!" Chekov said, and Kirk looked up. A new horror was being acted out in space. A tractor beam reached out of the Klingon ship and clutched the Sparrow, drawing it inexorably toward the Klingon bird of prey.
"A tractor beam? They're crazy!" Kirk cried.
"A high-intensity tractor beam, Captain," Spock confirmed. "The Sparrow cannot possibly stand the strain."
"Lieutenant Uhura! Put me through to the Klingon ship again." Kirk rose. "Kreth, you bloody fool. You'll destroy the ship, and the cloaking device you want so badly. You'll kill the children. You'll accomplish nothing."
"The Klingons will not respond or acknowledge, Captain," Uhura said.
"Then tie me in with the Sparrow again." Kirk tightened and untightened his fists in frustration.
"They don't acknowledge, either."
"Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter. Keep the channel open, Lieutenant." Kirk was sweating. He swallowed hard. What are the children's names? A good, calm, authoritative voice. "Pal. Jahn. Rhea. Listen to me. Your ship is about to be destroyed by a Klingon tractor beam. We offer you food and protection, clean air, comfort, safety, guidance. Please turn off your cloaking device, so that we can beam you aboard."
A Klingon phaser blast shot out and grazed the cylindrical smooth top decks of the Enterprise, not far from the bridge.
Flint shook his head as the crew steadied itself from the shock. "They're warning you, Captain. They must be intercepting your message."
"Turn off the cloaking device, children," Kirk repeated evenly. "I'm here to help you. You have nothing to fear. We want to put things right, to protect you."
Within the alien tractor beam, the small ship seemed to twist and buckle and writhe like a small animal in a trap. How long before it gave?
Mr. Scott called up to the bridge. "Captain, we have shield capacity again. And phaser power, though there may be some of that fluorescent rubbish mixed in with it. Shall I put up the shields?"
"Negative, Scotty. Can you transport?"
"Aye, a few individual people from the Sparrow, I can, but not the whole beastie, not anymore."
"Very good, Mr. Scott. Stand by in the transporter room to bring the children on board, if they turn off their cloaking device. We've got to be quick—the Klingons may try to beam them aboard first. So we've got to make sure that our beam is the one to lock onto them."
"Aye, Captain. Standing by."
Spock approached Kirk's command chair. "The Flint device may fail on its own, from the strain of the tractor beam. But even if it does, or if the children turn it off …"
"Yes, Mr. Spock?"
"Transporting children out of a high-intensity Klingon tractor beam … they might not pull through."
"The risk is noted," Kirk said. "But there seems little choice. This is their one chance of survival. They'll die in the tractor beam. They'll die if the Klingons get them. If they turn off the cloaking device, we'll try to beam them aboard. It's up to the Onlies now."
Kirk had Uhura tie him in once more to the Sparrow, and recommended urging them with a steady stream of pleading and reason.
When the Klingon tractor beam reached the Sparrow, there was a jolt, and then the little ship seemed to come alive. Every panel, every pastel glowing wall, every fiber and circuit began to groan and whine and tremble, to shift uneasily. The cabin began to heat up.
"They've got us!" Jahn screamed. "Someone's got us, leggo, leggo, we're trapped, they know where we are."
The lights in the cabin flickered, warning alarms sounded, the machinery snapped and popped and short-circuited.
As Kirk's voice filled the cabin once again, Jahn began to laugh. He laughed and swore, and the walls began to creak and give; the hull of the Sparrow was cracking and folding in on itself. The main panel exploded in a fireworks display. There was a burst of smoke, a hiss, a sickening smell. And after the smoke cleared, there was Jahn, lying on the floor, his head askew, his face half scorched, his eyes rolled back. Now Jahn lay still-rock, his mouth contorted, as dead as a Grup or an Only gone bad.
Rhea screamed. And then rose. She approached the panel which was still smoldering, spitting energy. She would listen to reason, as the Grup's voice urged, and surrender the ship. But the panel was destroyed, the mechanisms jammed. Communications were inoperable. And the Flint device could not be deactivated. Kirk's pleading could no longer be heard.
"Pal," Rhea said cheerfully, "I'm going to open the door now." Jahn had sealed them all into the main cabin. Life supports in the sleeping chamber were shut down. But Rhea could tell from a chart by the door that they could make it the short distance down the corridor to the transporter booth. She could feel the cabin floor becoming warmer, hard to walk on, through the soles of her boots. The overhead light had failed, but she could still see by the light of the glowing fluorescent walls. She continued to draw comfort from this light; it warmed her in the same way as had the soft-spoken praise she sometimes got from Mrs. File, back at the Center. She could not go back there now, but she would do what this light, what this warm feeling inside, seemed to be telling her to do.
Rhea dug her fingernails into the space between the cabin's main doors, and pulled. The doors trembled, the mechanism buzzed. At last, with a groan, the doors slid open.
The giant Klingon ship was looming ever larger on the viewscreen, its hangar doors open like a hungry mouth. Rhea ran over to Pal, scooped up his limp form, and slung it over her shoulder. She carried him out the cabin door, down the corridor, to the transporter pad. By pressing against the wall of the corridor, she nimbly avoided a ceiling panel as it crashed down, clattering to the floor, as the ship continued to moan and shift. She lay Pal down on the transporter pad, activated the monitor, and frowned. Barely enough power left to transport one person. Well, it would have to do. More explosions, and the smell of smoke floated from the main cabin. "Hang on, Pal. Hang on."
The hot floor beneath her feet was heaving, buckling. She used sensors to gauge the coordinates of the Enterprise transporter room. It was primed for beam-up. Well, she'd give it something to lock on to.
It was then that the roof fell in, bringing the icy emptiness of space in its wake. The Sparrow shuddered, collapsed inward.
With a loud cry of pain and terror mixed with triumph, Rhea moved the levers of the transporter console down, and Pal's small body dazzled and dissolved. Then the good ship Sparrow lost its cloaking capability. The illusion of asteroid rubble melted away. The ship imploded in a brilliant show of fluorescence, fire, and metal shards.
On the bridge of the Enterprise, Kirk shut his eyes. "Oh, God," he whispered.
"An admirable attempt, Captain," Flint said. The sound of his voice made Kirk feel sick.
A stiff hand rested awkwardly on Kirk's shoulder for a moment, then withdrew. "The end of many trials, Jim," Spock said softly.
The Vulcan's presence steadied Kirk as it had many times before.
"Yes, Mr. Spock. And the beginning of others, I expect. But at least it seems that the Klingons have overplayed their hand."
The Enterprise shifted from a state of red to yellow alert. And down in the transporter room, Mr. Scott was mightily surprised to find a small boy curled up on a transporter pad, staring up at nothing.