Pawns and Symbols Read online

  Lieutenant Willinck eased the shuttlecraft into a gentle orbital descent that would carry them fairly close to the Klingon outpost on their final approach to the Federation station. "Ensign, see what your scanners register as we go by. This may be our best chance to get a reading on how many of them there are."

  Deep within the Klingon fortress by the dim yellow glow of the Command room lights, the duty officer watched the blip that was the Enterprise shuttle as it settled into its final approach pattern. "That trajectory will bring them within a half-kilometer of us, Commander."

  "Get me Ordnance and Weapons."

  "Yes, sir." The duty officer opened the intercom to the Ordnance and Weapons station.

  "Status Amber. Hold and monitor." Lieutenant Klen, the squat, slightly balding commander of the outpost paced tightly from one rocky wall to the other.

  "We're being scanned, Commander!" The Klingon's voice rose a fraction as he exclaimed, "She's hit! Off course, going down rapidly."

  Klen uttered an explosive epithet and headed for Weapons. He burst in on the exultant crewman. "You unexpurgated idiot! I gave no order to fire!" He laid the crewman flat on the floor with an angry blow and took over the firing console.

  "But they were scanning us, Commander!" the crewman protested.

  "I know that," Klen shouted. "Ordinarily sufficient, but our orders are explicit. We must wait for them to fire first. You're on report. Confine yourself to quarters for thirty hours." Then, seeing his subordinate's crestfallen demeanor he added gruffly, "Your hit will be registered nonetheless. And you will have another chance to fight and earn a warrior's death—no fear of that. It goes against the grain, this waiting, but our orders are quite clear: they must come to us and they will pay dearly for every meter they attempt to gain. Dismissed." He suppressed a twinge of guilt as the man left. It was an unforgivable breach of discipline not to punish such a blatant disregard for orders, but this womanish waiting was getting to all of them.

  Scott saw the attack and watched helplessly as the craft bucked and yawed unevenly down to impact slightly under two kilometers away. Obviously someone was still fighting to control its flight. "Scott to Kirk. Scott to Kirk. The Klingons have fired on the shuttle!" There was no answer. A swift check of his communicator assured him it was in working condition. Where was the Enterprise? He turned to Johnson who had come out with him to meet the shuttlecraft. "See if you can raise the shuttle." Then he charged into the communications room where Uhura and Sulu were at work. "The Klingons shot down the shuttle and I can't raise the Enterprise on my communicator. You got anything here in operating condition yet?"

  Two startled faces looked up from a disemboweled panel. "Not quite, sir," Uhura replied. "Another hour, maybe. Here, try my communicator."

  He tried. "Scott to Enterprise. Come in please." Silence. "Sulu, you and Johnson round up Tamura and Riley. Recon the shuttle and see what can be done there while we try to get this communication console going. Something tells me the Enterprise has been diverted somehow, tho' I canna see why the captain dinna notify us, unless …" he left the grim thought unfinished as he joined Uhura at the console.

  Sulu scooped up his tricorder and departed at a trot, checking his phaser as he went. Riley and Tamura were already approaching rapidly from the direction of the house when he reached Johnson.

  "No response from the shuttle," Johnson said.

  "What happened to the shuttle?" Riley demanded as they came into earshot.

  "Klingons shot her down," Johnson replied. "And we can't raise the Enterprise with our communicators."

  "Uh, oh," Riley whistled. "Trou … ble." His dawning concern was reflected in Tamura's face also.

  Johnson turned to Sulu. "Instructions from Commander Scott?"

  "Recon the shuttle. He and Uhura are trying to get the console up—probably be about an hour," Sulu replied. The Security man looked at him expectantly. Sulu realized that he was ranking officer. He waved a deferential hand. "Security. Take charge, Johnson."

  The Security man beckoned for them to follow and set off at a lope in the direction of the downed shuttlecraft. It had come down nearly one-and-a-half kilometers from the communications building on the far edge of a thick copse of trees. As he ran, Sulu glanced at the Security woman beside him. He wondered briefly if Johnson should have left her on guard with Scotty and Uhura. Might be less risky.

  They entered the copse and took advantage of its cover to approach the shuttle. Though quieter, theirs was not the only approach. From the direction of the Klingon outpost less than a kilometer away came the clear chug of a vehicle. As it came into sight, Riley muttered, "Bloody thievin' crows! That's a Federation tractor. They must have stolen it from our station."

  But there was no time for discussion. From the shuttlecraft came the distinctive whine of phaser fire. A return volley came from the wagon behind the tractor. Apparently several Klingons were concealed in it. The tractor and wagon dipped abruptly into a gully, and soon it was clear that the Klingons had dispersed to other cover. Scant meters away, the shuttlecraft faced them, nose embedded in the ground, the primary exit jammed partway open facing the open field beyond the copse of trees.

  Johnson swore softly under his breath. "Bastards have them pinned. Emergency exit's useless in that position and they can't get out the main door under that fire. We're going to have to take out that Klingon patrol. Riley, you come with me to the left. Sulu and Tamura you cover the right flank. I think there's five of them. Let's try to get one for interrogation; otherwise shoot to kill." He and Riley moved off to the left through the underbrush.

  As Sulu turned to follow Tamura, he noted movement at the front of the shuttlecraft. A Security ensign emerged from the shattered forward window, dropped to the ground and started to move toward the trees. He got about two meters. To Sulu's right, a Klingon rose from behind a hillock and fired. It was his last kill. Twin phaser blasts from inside the shuttle and from Tamura dropped him, too.

  "That's one," said Tamura matter-of-factly. She moved off to the right.

  Sulu followed. Even in the heat of battle he watched her movement with appreciation of the artistry. Moves like a ninja, he thought; if it weren't for the red uniform, no one could spot her. As it was, she would be rather a visible target … hastily he rubbed handsful of dirt on his own yellow tunic. The whine of phaser fire droned behind him from the left of the shuttle. No more figures emerged from the windows.

  He inched his way forward, constantly checking the terrain ahead and to his left. A movement near the back of the shuttle caught his eye—Another Klingon working his way toward the main door, out of the line of fire from whomever was inside. Sulu took careful aim. . . . "That's two," he said softly. Now, where was Tamura?

  There was a flash of red ahead. He froze. What was she doing breaking cover like that? He saw the Klingon edging toward her but couldn't get a clear shot at him. Suddenly Tamura dropped, just an instant before the Klingon fired. She gave a sharp cry then began to crawl rather clumsily back in Sulu's general direction. What the devil was she doing? Sulu was virtually certain she hadn't been hit. A moment ago she had been moving as silently as an assassin's shadow. Now her progress was clearly audible. The Klingon was following her.

  Then Sulu understood. He reset his phaser on stun and made himself part of a shadow.

  Tamura's timing was hair-trigger fine. Her trail intersected the Klingon's a mere two meters from Sulu. She rose to one knee, the Klingon leapt and Sulu fired. The man dropped like a ton of neutronium. Tamura fell sideways, firing at the same time. An incoming blast caught the Klingon's shoulder and grazed Sulu's arm. The Klingon responsible for that shot evaporated in a crossfire from Tamura, the shuttle, and someone off behind the shuttle. "That's four, I believe," she said.

  "Possibly five, I hope," Sulu said faintly. Nausea swept over him as the pain from his arm hit him. He lay flat on his back.

  Tamura rolled the Klingon on his side making a bit more of a barrier and wormed her way over to Sulu.
"You hit bad?"

  "No, I don't think so. Just grazed my right elbow a bit."

  "Here, slide back down here and let me see it." She urged him back down a slight slope, then deftly tore back the sleeve of his shirt. "You're right. Just a surface burn. Hurts like blazes tho', doesn't it?"

  Sulu nodded tightly. "You said it."

  Tamura reached down and detached the tiny first-aid kit from her boot. "Some spray-plast and a dose of delta-endorph ought to hold you until we get back to the station. Hold still."

  Sulu watched her work, devoutly thankful that he had voiced no reservations about her presence on this patrol. Security people were always well trained by this one could go far in Security. "That was well done," he said, indicating the Klingon. "I think you're due a commendation for this assignment."

  She flashed him a quick smile. "Thank you, sir." Brushing dirt from her knees, she got up. "That's all I can do for your arm at the moment. I guess we better look after our prisoner here before he wakes up and gets nasty."

  Sulu retrieved the Klingon's weapon and covered him while Tamura tied his hands securely with strips from his own uniform. From the direction of the shuttle they heard Johnson shout. "Ahoy, shuttle. Hang in there. We're mopping up out here. Lieutenant Sulu! Tamura! Are you there?"

  "Over here!" Sulu responded.

  A few moments later Johnson cautiously emerged from the underbrush, glancing at the Klingon. "You got one. Good." He took in Sulu's arm. "Bad?"

  "No, just grazed. Where's Kevin?" Sulu asked.

  "I sent him into the shuttle," Johnson replied. "If you'll keep an eye on this one, Tamura and I will check out the tractor."

  Soon Sulu heard the clug of the tractor heading toward the shuttle. The Klingon at his feet had just started to stir when Tamura and Johnson reappeared. Tamura knelt and massaged the Klingon's chest with her knuckles. "Come on, you, wake up!" The man opened his eyes and glared at her. She pulled out her first-aid hypospray and gave him as hot.

  "You only got four doses in there. Why waste one on him, Tamura?" Johnson asked.

  "So he can walk," Tamura said. "No point in crowding the wagon."

  "Fair enough," Johnson agreed. He gave the Klingon a nudge with his toe. "On your feet, Klingon. Sulu, if you'll get everybody loaded on and drive the tractor, we'll start out with this fellow. When you catch up with us let Ensign Ahmad relieve me. I'll want to talk to Willinck."

  Sulu was met at the shuttle door by a grim-faced Riley. "Three dead, another fellow in there with a bad head injury, Lieutenant Banerjee's got a cracked shoulder and some cuts. And Sulu—"

  "Yes?"

  "The Enterprise has left orbit to answer a distress call. That's why we couldn't raise her. Captain Kirk sent the message with the shuttle so the Klingons wouldn't intercept a broadcast."

  Sulu grimaced. "So we're on our own in this one. How long?"

  "Lieutenant Willinck said Spock estimated forty standard hours, minimum—if it's a genuine distress call and not a Klingon trick."

  It was a sober little group that gathered in the house that evening. Four fresh graves lay on the hillside behind the station. The ensign with the head injury had died en route to the station. Uhura and Scott thought they had the main communications console operative but did not want to test it until the Enterprise was back. No point in alerting the Klingons unnecessarily. Double sentries were posted.

  After supper, Johnson, Tamura and Sulu took a tray and some questions to their prisoner who was tied up in the laundry room. He was not in an accommodating mood. After a drink of water, he used his one freed hand to hurl the plate of food at Tamura along with a string of Klingon epithets.

  Johnson was equally unaccommodating. He seized the Klingon by his injured shoulder and shook him vigorously. "Listen, Klingon, listen well. You've had your first and last free medicine and food. From now on you earn it—with answers and a little civility. Is that clear?"

  The Klingon answered him with a sullen growl.

  "If you cooperate, you'll be transferred to the Enterprise brig as an official prisoner of war until this thing is sorted out. If you don't …" Johnson shrugged expressively. "Now—identity?"

  "Tormin,1 first rank, Klingon Imperial Fleet, assigned to Klolode Two."

  "That's it? No name? No number?"

  "Not for you, human!"

  "Suit yourself, Tormin." Johnson responded. "Your mission? What's your objective here on Sherman's planet?"

  "To annihilate you humans!"

  "That goes without saying. I'm interested more in specifics. What's your garrison strength?"

  "More than enough to wipe you out."

  "Unlikely, Tormin." He seized the Klingon's hair and pulled his head back. "Numbers. I want numbers. What's your garrison strength?"

  The Klingon glared at him defiantly. "If you want to know—go count'em!"

  "Who's your commander there?" The Klingon sat in stony silence. When Johnson repeated the question, the man spat contemptuously at him. Johnson flushed, then struck the Klingon with a resounding backhand that snapped his head against the plumbing. Still no reply. Johnson sighed. "All right. Tamura, tie him up. We'll let him think about things overnight."

  Captain Kirk looked at the freighter hanging motionless in front of them on the viewscreen. It was the U.S.S. Deirdre all right. The Enterprise had been travelling on Yellow Alert since they had left Sherman's planet but there had been no sign of Klingons. "Red alert, Lieutenant Hadley. Lieutenant Alden, see if you can raise anyone aboard. Life readings, Mr. Spock?"

  The turbolift whooshed open to admit Dr. McCoy to the bridge. "Emergency medical team is standing by in the transporter room in case this is the real thing, Jim."

  "Thanks, Bones. Spock?" The two men looked at the Vulcan.

  "I pick up five life readings—Captain. Three of them are weak."

  Lieutenant Aldren broke in. "I'm receiving a signal from the ship now, sir."

  "Fine. Put it on visual, Lieutenant Hadley. Chekov, anything else in the vicinity?" Kirk queried.

  "Negative, Captain."

  The viewscreen image changed to the dim cabin of the freighter. Center screen was filled with the stocky weather-beaten frame of a man in a Freighter Service uniform and a white turban.

  "Captain Kirk to the U.S.S. Deirdre. Come in please."

  "Jimmy, boy! Is that really you? Now, there's a drink of cold water for a man in the desert. We seem to be in a spot of trouble. Can you lend us a hand?"

  McCoy looked at Kirk "Jimmyboy?"

  Kirk grimaced. "I was a very young midshipman when we met on Tarsus Four." He punched a console button. "Randy, you old buzzard. You haven't changed a bit. Stand by to come aboard. How many of you are there?"

  "Just four crewmen and myself, Captain."

  "I'll see you shortly after you're aboard. And, Randy—your story better be good. You've got some explaining to do."

  "My pleasure, Jimmy. Darndest yarn you ever want to hear. Singh out."

  The viewscreen reverted to the external view of the freighter. Kirk turned to McCoy. "Notify me just as soon as you've cleared Singh. If he's able, I'll see him in the conference room. Lieutenant Alden, confirm these coordinates with Space Station K-Seven so they can arrange pickup of the freighter. Lieutenant Hadley—any signs of activity out there?"

  "Negative, sir."

  "Fine. Yellow Alert. Lay in a return course to Sherman's planet. Ahead Warp Six. You have the helm."

  "Aye, Captain."

  Kirk stood up and looked at his first officer. "Mr. Spock?" The two of them entered the turbolift and headed for the conference room. Captain Naranjit Singh joined them a few moments later, already looking and sounding more robust.

  "Thanks, Jimmy. A couple more hours and we'd have been goners."

  "What happened, Randy? This isn't your sector."

  "Don't I know it! We were two sectors away on a routine run—carrying ryetalyn and some other ordinary medical supplies—nothing strategic, when we caught a fair-sized micro-meteor
ite amidships. Played hob with our life support system. We put out a general distress signal and were all working on the system when—Boom!—out of nowhere—here's this Klingon battlecruiser."

  "Which one?" Kirk asked sharply.

  "Blamed if I know. I never even saw a boarding party much less the commander. They radioed us that at the first sign of resistance they'd blow us out of space. Then they took us in tow. Looked like they were just going to tow us plumb into the Klingon Empire while we slowly asphyxiated. Then they dropped us where you found us—after they disabled our main drive to make sure we stayed put. Those Klingons are as looney as space monkeys come, but why this?"

  "A decoy, Randy. You were bait. One they knew I wouldn't ignore. The question is who and why. Mr. Spock, show him what we've got on Klingon battlecruisers. See if he can identify which one it was."

  Captain Singh identified the Devisor, Captain Koloth's ship as the one that had diverted him. Kirk thanked him and let him go back to his crew. Then he turned thoughtfully to his first officer.

  "Well, that explains where Koloth was. Obviously, he and Kang acted in concert. What do you make of it, Mr. Spock?"

  "It would appear that the Klingons intend to keep us busy. If they are unsure of the extent of our intelligence data, this may all be an elaborate ploy to divert us."

  "You mean the Sherman's planet garrison as well?" Kirk mused.

  "It would be a logical maneuver," Spock replied.

  "Mmmm. Yes, I see what you mean. If that's the case, then we could expect them to hole up and hold out as long as possible. It also means we may have a whole rash of Klingon instigated incidents to deal with. If that's the case, the best way to handle Sherman's planet is to send down a fairly hefty contingent to the station and then ignore the Klingon outpost—just let them simmer away under their rock."