Demands of Honor (19 page)

“What's going on here?” a voice asked from behind them. It was Doctor McCoy, who was looking at them with a raised eyebrow.

“Doctor, I want to report that this officer assaulted me,” Alan said, pointing to Parmet. Then he shifted to Fuller. “And
he
was harassing me.”

“I find that very hard to believe,” McCoy said.

“But he hit me!” Alan said, his voice a high-pitched whine.

“Well, that's just plain unlikely.” Something in McCoy's tone told Fuller that McCoy had seen the whole exchange or enough of it.

“You're not going to do anything?” Alan said, frank disbelief in his voice.

“On the contrary, I'm going to release you immediately. Two security officers will be here in a moment to escort you to your quarters, where you will stay. My medical advice would be to be extremely polite to your escorts. Once there, you can file whatever complaints you wish.”

For the first time since they'd arrived, Alan was speechless. A moment later, he was whisked away by two guards. “Mister Fuller, I'm afraid that visiting hours are now over,” McCoy said.

“Understood, Doctor.” Then Fuller turned his attention to Jawer. “You're on duty as of now, Ensign.”

Jawer nodded and said a quiet good-bye to the young woman in the bed, and the squad left sickbay.

“Next time, I'm not going to rescue him unless he apologizes for his behavior
and
says please,” Jawer said. There was a burst of laughter from the squad, and Fuller was surprised to see that some of it came from his own mouth. Glancing over at Parmet, Fuller saw that one of the squad wasn't laughing. His face was red and the naked fury was still there in his eyes.

“Get me the Klingons on-screen,” Kirk said. A moment later, the Klingon battle cruiser appeared on the main viewscreen. He stood, his body reflexively reacting to the threat the warship posed.

“The Klingons are holding position,” Spock said. “Sensors show no power to their weapons, though their shields are at full strength.”

Kirk nodded. That was fair enough. The
Enterprise
's own shields were at full power as well. “Why not? They're on a
diplomatic
mission. Uhura, send out hails on all frequencies used on our last visit here.”

“Aye, Captain,” Uhura's hands worked the controls. The last time they were here, the local leader, Gorath—whose people had a large hand in defeating the Orions—had asked for his people to be left alone. He had seen what involvement in the larger galactic community had nearly brought to his planet and wanted no more to do with it. Kirk couldn't blame him, but the galactic community had come to them in the form of the Klingons. And for whatever reason, Gorath had apparently agreed to talk to them.

“No response to hails in the mining complex or in any of the portable transmitter-receivers,” Uhura said.

Kirk was not surprised. The planet had stopped talking to Starfleet some time ago. Kirk was prepared for this. “Lieutenant, hail the communicator we gave to Gorath himself.” The captain had given that device to the Klingon leader personally—a final fail-safe method of communication.

A few seconds passed. And then a few more. Finally Uhura said, “No response.”

That did surprise Kirk. He and his crew had earned Gorath's respect, but something strange was going on here. Kirk knew he needed to get to the bottom of it, and fast. The Klingons had already been here for too long, with too many opportunities for mischief. “Lieutenant, send a message to all receivers in the mining complex. Tell them to prepare for our immediate arrival.”

“I have a response, audio only,” Uhura said.

Kirk nodded to her. “This is Captain James T. Kirk of the
U.S.S. Enterprise.
I wish to speak with Gorath.”

“This is clan leader Gurn.”
Kirk recognized the tell-tale sound of the translator at work.

“Is Gorath available?”

“I lead my people, you may speak to me.”

“I ask again, is Gorath available?”

“Captain, what do you want?”

“We wish to meet with your people to continue discussing your relationship with the Federation. We are also here to monitor the visit by the Klingon diplomatic team. We have reason to believe you may be in some danger.”

There was a laugh on the other end.
“We are in no danger. The Klingons come to us in friendship.”
Something was definitely going on here. And whatever it was, this Gurn was part of it.

“We also come in friendship. We would like to meet with you to discuss the future of your planet.” For now, at least, Gurn was apparently the one Kirk would have to deal with—at least until he could reach Gorath.

“We can decide our own future. We have no need or desire to meet with you. Please leave this system at once.”
Gurn paused.
“Will you respect our wishes? My Klingon advisers have made it clear that you represent a threat to my people. They have told us the truth about the Federation's involvement in the Orion mine. I'm telling you for the last time, Captain. Leave this system immediately.”
Then there was a click as the connection was broken.

Kirk looked over at Spock, who said, “An interesting development. Clearly, the local leader is in league with the Klingons.”

Kirk had been afraid of just this kind of situation when he had decided to effect the rescue that had delayed their arrival. Now they were not welcome. Well, Kirk had been instructed to use diplomacy, to approach the situation delicately to try to diffuse any tension in the system while the diplomats kept working on the larger situation with the Klingon Empire. If possible, he was to make sure that the first shots of a war with the empire were not fired in this system. On the other hand, he was under orders to make sure that the Klingons did not get their hands on the dilithium under the planet's surface.

“Our options would appear to be limited,” Spock said.

“Not completely,” Kirk said. “We're going to beam down and talk to them in person. Mister Spock, our landing site will be Gorath's village. Feed coordinates to the transporter room and to the helm. Mister Sulu, take us out of range of the Klingon vessel's weapons, but keep us in transporter range of the landing site.”

“Aye, sir.” Almost immediately, Sulu started adjusting orbit to make that possible.

Hitting a button on his command chair, the captain said, “Kirk to Giotto. Are your security teams ready?”

“Yes, sir,”
Giotto answered.

“Have them meet me in the transporter room.” Getting up, Kirk turned to his first officer. “You have the conn.”

Kirk found the security teams waiting for him in the transporter room. Fuller and his team were assembled, as were Greenberger and his team. Lieutenant Parrish was there as well. Of course, she had been on the first
mission to the planet and had fought well against the Orions. Earlier she had briefed both teams on the mine and the area. Now she was there to see her old squad off.

She hadn't done that before the rescue mission, but Kirk understood why. Now the team had been tested together and would not be distracted by their attachment to their former leader.

He looked over the men and women waiting to beam down and wondered what he was sending them into.
I should be going with them,
he thought. It was tempting, but clearly impossible with a Klingon cruiser a few thousand kilometers away.

Fuller was more than up to this command. If Kirk had had any doubts about him before, they had disappeared during the rescue mission. If force was required, Fuller could handle himself as well as any officer Kirk had ever known. And if finesse was required, Fuller could manage that as well.

Kirk briefed them quickly on what he knew and laid out the two most important mission parameters. “First, you are to establish a Federation presence on the planet. Whatever is going on there, let the Klingons know we won't tolerate any mischief in our backyard. Second, find out what has happened there in the last few weeks. Has there been a transfer of power among the natives? Find Gorath if you can and find out if the Klingons are behind whatever changes have happened.”

Fuller's team stepped onto the transporter pads.

Kirk added, “Good luck, Michael. Good luck to you all.”

“Thank you, Captain. If you would give the word …,” Fuller said.

“Energize,” Kirk said. A few moments later, Greenberger's team had also dematerialized, leaving Kirk and Parrish to consider the empty pads. They left the transporter room together in silence. In the corridor, Kirk said, “Doctor McCoy told me that you have made your decision.”

“Yes, Captain, and I want to thank you for helping me do that.”

“Me?”

“Yes, sir. Something you said about not sacrificing who we are even when it serves the greater good.”

Kirk remembered saying something like that in the meeting before the rescue mission. For a moment, he was uncomfortable with the responsibility there. The decision to go ahead with the rescue was sound, but only time would tell what the cost of that decision would be on the surface of this planet and to the Federation.

Kirk stopped in front of the turbolift door.

“I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable,” she said, obviously reading something on his face. “But it did help me figure out who I was and what I was willing to sacrifice. I believe that Jon Anderson meant something and that our baby means something. I just wanted to thank you.”

“Good luck to you, Lieutenant,” Kirk said as he entered the turbolift.

Fuller was immediately alert as he materialized in the center of the village. He saw immediately that no one was in view. The silence also told him that no one was around—or that whoever was there was hiding.

Drawing his phaser, Fuller scanned the site as the second team materialized nearby. He recognized the ground. The captain had briefed him, as had Lieutenant Parrish. And the computer had extensive images from the report Commander Giotto had filed—the report that proved conclusively that the Klingons were behind the Orion mine.

He had also read the reports of how small teams armed only with hand phasers and with the help of some locals had fought off the Orion flying weapons platforms. Later, there had also been heavy ground fighting with both phasers and blades in an intense battle in and around the mine itself.

Brave people had died here, both Federation and native, though surprisingly few considering what they had accomplished. Nevertheless, the Klingon Empire seemed to have moved in and Starfleet was no longer welcome. Well, this mission would allow Fuller and his people to have something to say about that.

The mission.

His
mission.

They were two different things, not necessarily contradictory, but not necessarily complementary either. He had failed to finish a job with the Klingons twenty-five years before, and too many had died because of it.
Sam
had died because of it.

And these are the Klingons who killed Sam. It was the
D'k Tahg
that attacked Starbase 42,
a voice in his head supplied. That voice had been fairly quiet lately. It had even been still during the rescue mission, which was the first time since Sam's death that he had been face-to-face with Klingons.

He had felt a black rage when he had seen them, but they were civilians and his training had held. The old habits were hard to break. He had let the Klingons live, but until the moment he had done it, he had not known if he could. However, the time would soon come when he would have to break those habits and forget that training.

Revenge was part of it, certainly. But the much more important part was that he knew things about the enemy that Starfleet and the Federation were too blinded by their own principles to see. The Klingons gave no quarter because it was in their nature. And unless they met a force of equal power and resolve, the cancer they represented would take over the galaxy one world at a time, smashing the Federation and destroying everything that good people had built—that too many had given their lives to protect.

Fuller had failed at the Battle of Donatu V because of his weakness and lack of resolve. He would not fail again. It would likely cost him his life, but pieces of him had been dying for years, and the last part worth anything had died when he'd received a message of condolence from his son's captain.

It amazed him that those around him couldn't see what was missing in him, but their blindness allowed him to pursue the last course left to him, his final purpose. A mission. The only one that mattered. The only one of his career that would make a difference.

“Sir, I show multiple targets converging on this location,” Parmet said, his tricorder out and scanning.

“Everyone move! Find cover!” Fuller said, but before they could take even three steps, Fuller saw four small platforms hurtling toward them. “Phasers ready.” He
aimed with his own even though the weapons were out of range. A quick mental calculation told him that they had zero chance of dispersing in time.

“Form a circle,” he said, knowing that their chances in that formation were only slightly better. Each of the two squads had two phaser rifles. They were the only weapons that could penetrate the Orion weapons' shields without a constant bombardment, but even they would take a little time.

More time than he guessed they were going to have.

“Hold fire until my mark,” Fuller said. There was a chance the Klingons on the platforms weren't hostile. That was their only chance of walking away from this encounter. The pilots of each platform were wearing flight suits, which made it impossible to determine if they were natives or Klingon warriors, but the slight unsteadiness of the flying suggested to Fuller that they were natives without much flight experience.

That might help, he realized. The weapons were getting closer. “Ready rifles,” Fuller said. He could see McCalmon and Quatrocchi raise their weapons and take aim. The phaser rifles had almost the same range as the Orion weapons so that would be another point in their favor.