Chain of Attack (7 page)

As abruptly as the emotions had broken free, she clamped down on them, pressing her lips together into a tense line, blinking back a tear as she averted his eyes in embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she said.

"No need to be," Crandall said, debating briefly whether or not he should put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Graduating from the Academy doesn't mean you have to stop being human."

"Thank you, sir."

"You have nothing to thank me for, Miss Davis. Believe me, I know how you feel. I don't have a fiancée waiting for me at home, but I do have friends and family."

Slowly, she looked up at him, and he could see in her eyes that, no matter what her training or her uniform said, he had gained her trust. She was—and with careful handling would remain—his ally.

Favoring her with another smile, this one a mixture of reassurance and sympathy, he stood up from where he had been half seated on the corner of the trapezoidal desk and lowered himself into the other lounge chair. After a moment, he hitched it forward and turned it a fraction so he was facing her more directly.

Leaning forward but still not reaching out to touch her, he said, in his best just-between-friends tone, "You said you felt you had to speak with me, Miss Davis. I hope you haven't changed your mind."

"No, it's just that—"

"Whatever it is, you can tell me. As I said, it will go no farther than these walls unless you want it to."

"As I understand it," she said hesitantly, "you're an expert on the gravitational anomalies the
Enterprise
was investigating—the anomalies that—that got us where we are now."

"I know a little about them, yes. I was in charge of the laboratory that developed the detectors the
Enterprise
was using." He didn't add that his function had been purely administrative and that, until the announcement that the
Enterprise
would use the detectors on this special mission, he had barely known of the existence of either the anomalies or the detectors.

"I—I understand that you don't agree with the captain's assessment of our situation," she said, "and, well, I would just like to know what
you
think our chances are. Based on your knowledge of the anomalies, do you think we can ever get back to the Federation?"

"I rather doubt it," he said cautiously, letting his eyes flicker upward in the general direction of the bridge as he added, "at least not under the present command structure."

And then, when she didn't bridle at his implied criticism of Kirk, he went on, his voice firmer. "As you said, I have my disagreements with Captain Kirk. In the first place, I strongly suspect that we are wasting precious time chasing after this mythical gate civilization that he hopes still exists. What's even more disturbing to me, however, is the fact that, if I'm to believe what the captain announced over the intercom a few hours ago, he's begun playing some kind of cat-and-mouse game with the alien ship that attacked us. To tell the truth—and here I'm trusting
you
not to let
my
words go any farther—I think the captain's course of action is not only putting us in unnecessary danger of another, more serious attack but is virtually destroying what little chance we do have of getting home."

As he spoke, he watched her eyes, ready to backtrack at the first sign that her Academy-instilled obedience to rank was staging a comeback, but none came.

"Unfortunately," he went on, "I am in no position to do anything about it. As the captain has pointed out, I am on board strictly as an observer, despite my being, in effect, a representative of the Federation itself."

"But there must be
something
you can do," she said, some of the restrained emotion escaping once again into her words. "Captain Kirk would certainly listen to anything you have to say. With your knowledge of the anomalies…"

Her voice trailed off as she saw him shake his head grimly. "In the first place," he said, "I fear he does not share your estimate of my knowledge. In the second, starship captains are not known for their receptiveness to unsolicited advice from unwelcome civilians. And in his eyes—and in the eyes of his officers, I'm sure—that is precisely what I am." He gave a minuscule shrug. "Not that I can fault them for that, of course. Or the rest of the crew for seeing me in the same light."

"I'm sure not everyone feels that way," she protested. "I certainly don't."

"I thank you for your confidence," he said, allowing just a touch of sarcasm into his tone but following his words almost immediately with his best apologetic look. "In any event, there's little either of us can do about the situation except watch and listen."

"Watch and listen? I don't understand."

He was silent a long moment, as if debating whether or not to take her into his confidence. Finally, he leaned toward her again. "Has it ever occurred to you," he said conspiratorially, "that the briefing we've all been given concerning our contact with the alien ship is not the complete story?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I still don't understand."

"What I'm saying is, while I'm sure the captain wouldn't lie, I can't help but fear that there are a few things that he's simply not telling us." He held up his hand to forestall the protest he saw building in her face.

"Believe me," he went on, "I've often dealt with people in positions of power, both military and nonmilitary, and they virtually
never
tell the public—or their subordinates—the whole truth."

Pausing, he gave her a self-deprecating smile. "And I include myself in that category, Miss Davis. I have to admit that I have not always been one-hundred percent open. Truthfully, no one in power—no one, for that matter, in the public eye at all—can
afford
to be totally open. Now, I'm not saying I ever did anything that I didn't honestly believe was in the best interests of the Federation in the long run, and I'm
certainly
not suggesting that Captain Kirk would ever do anything he didn't firmly believe was in the best interests of his ship and crew. There have been starship captains who might put their own interests above that of their people, but Captain Kirk, I'm sure, is not one of them. His reputation for integrity and competence is among the best in Starfleet, as I'm sure you're aware. No, all I'm saying is that, probably for what he sees as the best of motives, he's not letting us know everything that is happening, either with the alien craft or with the anomalies themselves. The problem is that, since he is probably not as knowledgeable as he could be concerning the anomalies, he just might be keeping to himself the one piece of information that, in the hands of someone more knowledgeable, could be the key to our return to the Federation."

As he spoke, he continued to watch the play of emotions across her guileless face, and it came to him once again that, unless he fumbled badly, Ensign Davis was firmly in his camp. And with that recurring thought, he realized that, sometime in the last few minutes, some of the bleakness of his imprisonment had begun to lift. He still could see little hope of ever returning to the Federation; the gate had in all probability simply vanished, never to return, or perhaps it only operated in the one direction.

But now he was not totally alone. In Ensign Davis he had an ally, a useful ally in what he had in that moment begun to think of as a campaign. His
Enterprise
campaign. For a moment, nostalgic memories of those long-ago campaigns that had launched him on his public career filled his thoughts. Then strategies began to leap into his mind, almost unbidden, and he wondered suddenly why he had been so slow to take that final mental step.

But at last he had taken it. With the realization that he had established a firm toehold in the enemy ranks, he had taken it. And now, using the kind of maneuvering he knew best, he could build on that toehold. His life, he realized with an inner smile, once more had a purpose.

 

ALMOST PRECISELY THIRTY-SIX standard hours after the first contact with the alien ship, Kirk was snatched from a dreamless sleep by the excited voice of Lieutenant Jameson, the third-watch science officer.

"Captain Kirk, to the bridge," Jameson's staccato voice crackled over the intercom. "Five more alien craft detected, apparently rendezvousing with the first."

Within minutes, Kirk, brushing his still-rumpled hair back from his forehead with a quick motion of his fingers, emerged onto the bridge only to find Mr. Spock already at the science station, absorbed in the readouts and looking as if he had been there throughout the watch. Lieutenant Jameson, standing back out of the way of his superior, turned briefly toward the turbolift as Kirk entered. Despite a firmly neutral expression on Jameson's face, Kirk could see in the young officer's quick glance and in the fractional stiffness of his motions that he was not pleased to have been displaced, even by Spock. This, however, was neither the time nor the place to call him on an attitude problem.

"Situation, Mr. Spock," Kirk said, sliding into the command chair vacated seconds before by Lieutenant Tanaka, who moved smoothly to a point beyond the circular handrail, never taking his eyes from the forward screen.

"As Mr. Jameson first stated, Captain, five craft, traveling in formation, appear to be rendezvousing with the craft we have been tracking."

"Rendezvousing? Not attacking?"

"It would seem not. They are all within range of each other now, and no hostilities have been initiated by either side."

"Reinforcements? These are the ships those subspace radio bursts were intended for?"

"In all likelihood, Captain. From the limited sensor data available, all five craft appear to be identical to the first. However, based on the formation in which the five craft were traveling, it would appear that one of those craft was being purposely shielded by the others. The craft we have been following has joined that protective formation."

"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.

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.