Still nothing from Andy...
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CH. 8(Pt. 1)
Petty Officer First Class Jordan Mathers clambered over the tops of several dislodged boulders that lay between him and the torn open doorway. His rifle was long-gone, but he’d drawn his Type Two from his left-hand holster and was wary of any sign of remaining enemy. Gentry lay in a jumble behind him, out cold from any one of the thousands of rocks that had come loose when the Klingon had fired straight up. Rocks still tumbled down, and long falls of dirt showered down here and there.
The platform Captain Thomas had been on was long gone. He figured the captain was dead. Gentry was still breathing and moaning. He was still alive. Mathers couldn’t reach him. Now it was up to Jordan to get this job done. Cautiously, he slid over the breadth of a long hunk of granite and eased up to the threshold of the doorway.
“Choo-Haw! Choo-Haw!” The PO1 could make out from within. An old sounding, Klingon voice was repeating the same thing over and over. Mathers chanced a glance within, ready to fire.
An old and wizened Klingon in battered, dirt-covered armor hunkered over a naked form on the cold stone floor. He had a communicator in hand and was shouting into it. Mathers figured what he was repeating was akin to ‘hello’. He wasn’t likely to get a response, however.
The dead light on the side of the comm meant that it wasn’t on.
Jordan boldly stepped into the chamber, ready to reclaim his commodore and get the hell out of here. The walkway outside was near to destroyed, so there was little chance of Ya’wenn reinforcements getting here without a transporter. But Mathers didn’t want to dally any longer than he had to.
“Get up, Klink!”
The surgeon looked up at him in apparent shock. He lowered the communicator and stared up with open eyes. Mathers found this an odd thing. Weren’t all Klingons supposed to be great warriors? Where was this man’s disruptor? Why wasn’t he leering back with blood lust? He was reacting like…a human…
Jordan didn’t waste time sorting it all out. He fired his phaser at point-blank range, right into the side of the old Klingons head. The alien rolled over like a marionette with all its strings suddenly cut and sagged to the debris-strewn floor. Ignoring the now dead alien, Mathers knelt beside the inert form of the nude human. This was what he and his team had come here for. Now they could leave. He hoped it wouldn’t take Tenseiga long to get back to this forsaken place. He reached onto his back and pulled the emergency comm unit he, Thomas and Gentry had each carried here.
He keyed in the preset command and lay the unit down. Within seconds, his ship would detect the subspace pulse and come running.
“XO, signal from Kovarn! Requesting extraction!”
Lieutenant Surall nodded to the communications officer and looked again to the star studded view screen forward. Tenseiga had remained at warp speed, keeping her distance from the trailing warships aft of her and skirting around the edge of the starsystem. Seventeen minutes had passed since the insertion of the rescue team. Very much longer and the Tenseiga would have circumnavigated the entire star system.
“Helm, hard a starboard! Return course for planetary orbit. Maintain maximum warp speed.”
Warp nine point two would see them back to the eighth planet in under a minute. The trailing ships would gain some ground as Tenseiga turned in on them, but would not attain a firing position before the Starfleet vessel outpaced them again. The worry was in the flanking array of starships the Ya’wenn defenders had deployed in orbit of their world. There were now six escort-sized vessels waiting on Tenseiga to come and claim her people. Even with the use of down warping, this ship was in great danger of being caught defenseless by the enemy. She considered making a slower approach, going in at impulse and drawing the enemy into a chase at sublight. With Tenseiga’s greater impulse power and maneuverability, she could conceivably elude those escorts and circle back for the rescue team.
But slowing to sublight would allow those trailing escorts to catch up. Then there would be nine of them in close pursuit. And how many more would join in? She glanced to the tactical displays to either side of the main screen. There were a great number of Ya’wenn ships in this system and all of them were edging closer to the prospective combat zone as Tenseiga raced back in. No, an impulse fight would not do…
She had no time to devise another option. She had to go with the plan in hand.
The blue and brown planet swelled larger and larger on the viewer. Surall could see Ensign Torres tensing as the moment of truth ran steadily toward her. Even the navigator was nervously gazing at the world before them. Lieutenant Kurita half turned from the portside console to look her way.
“Enemy are taking up firing positions. They’ve guessed our transporter range!”
“Stand by phasers. Prepare to cut shields for transport.”
Kurita turned stiffly back to his phaser controls. He obviously doubted their chances of survival. There were just too many odds staring the Tenseiga in the face. Even if they were successful in reclaiming the party from the surface, they’d take horrible damage in the process. Surall mentally counted the seconds down. The orders to return fire rested at the tip of her tongue.
Ben Thomas closed the distance with his adversary. His eyes were locked onto Rell’s. Both men had about the same, dirty little smile on their face. To simply look upon them, one might almost have believed they had met here for some wicked little prank. They came to a rest barely a few feet from the other, stances set and ready to react.
Ben was first to move.
A thunderous left hook led his assault, lightning quick as he stepped in. Rell responded with an easy looking block. His hand waved out before him in artistic style, catching the incoming strike and tossing it aside. Ben’s forearm smarted from the contact but he did not pause to reflect on it. He followed with a straight-line right punch, delivered from the shoulder. Rell danced aside. His movements were skilled though he still bobbled over the uneven footing at hand.
Rell pressed back in, striking low and fast. His extended fingertips drove beneath the dirtied armor the human wore, stabbing painfully into the softer flesh beneath. Ben had some belly at his age of fifty-two and the impact hurt. He cursed and slugged the Klingon full on in the temple. The resounding crack drove the alien to the jagged ground. Memories of assaulting Commodore Shiloah flittered into Thomas’s mind. He’d been delighted as well as shocked to learn he’d been a Klingon… That fact occurred to the giant man just then, making him smile in genuine good humor.
Rell was back to his feet even as the smile cracked Thomas’s face open. The Klingon did not know what had this man grinning so amiably and he decided the human must be battle crazed. He hadn’t thought Earthers capable of it. The Klingon captain took up a new stance on the unstable ground and waited for the big man to come in at him again. He didn’t have to wait long.
Ben led with another left. It was predictable, and Rell countered with much the same block as before. This time the human grabbed Rell’s deflecting arm with a right and cranked it painfully up and pinned it behind, maintaining the hold with his left hand. Rell gasped, surprised at the Terran’s strength. He kneed the human viscously in the crotch as he pressed close. Ben coughed a bit, but seemed undeterred. His right fist found Rell’s hard belly, driving the wind from the warrior and doubling him over. Something in Rell’s shoulder snapped. Ben released the Klingon’s limp right arm and slugged his enemy twice on either side of the skull.
Rell reeled and staggered back from the assault, shaking the stars from his vision as he backed out of Ben’s reach. The uneven ground had removed most of his Mok’bara foot fighting capacity. He was left with hand attacks as his primary defense. And this human was quite fast and painfully strong. The way he’d overpowered Rell’s blocking strike and pinned his arm was unnerving. He sought some other way to combat this ruffian.
Rell bent suddenly, going down so fast that Ben thought he’d fallen. But the avenging Klingon came back up just as fast with a softball-sized piece of stone. Ben threw an arm up for defense but knew he was too late. The jagged edge of the heavy weapon slammed into the side of his head, Rell’s elbow having bent around Ben’s forearm. A warm, wet pain flooded Thomas’s head as his legs collapsed beneath his weight. Rell brought the rock down once more, atop the human’s thick skull. It met with a hollow sounding ‘thock’ sound and Ben toppled senseless.
Rell staggered back, dropping the stone and looked down on the fallen Earther. He was amazed at the human’s strength and tenacity. But all his prowess had been for not. Now Rell could enjoy a coup de grace without fear of return. He looked idly aside for his pistol. Might it have survived the fall? He could think of nothing more satisfying than to shoot this inert beast as he lay on his belly.
The grab of Thomas’s hand about Rell’s ankle told the Klingon that it was far too early to count his victories. Ben howled like an animal as he hauled back on the captain’s boot and felled him. Rell tried in vain to scramble back from the bloodthirsty human as the giant crawled hand over hand atop of him. Ben’s greedy hands groped for Rell’s throat. The Klingon’s right arm was useless and numb. His left could only do so much to stave off the relentless, grasping attack. The desperate, vengeful hate burning in the alien’s eyes drew fear into the smooth-headed Klingon’s heart.
This human being would relish watching him die!
Ben mounted the prone soldier beneath him and bore his weight down on him as he began to wrench his hands closed about the straining neck. Rell’s eyes bulged. Ben shoved in, tightening his grasp all the more. Tendons and small bones gave way. Rell’s mouth gaped, vainly trying to suck air. His tongue protruded.
Rell’s hand fell away and came back with another rock. This one he crashed into Ben’s right elbow, driving it with all the desperate force that remained within him. Ben’s eyes lit with pain and yet still he did not relent. Rell attacked again, this time cutting a jagged hole in the thick sleeve of Ben’s tactical suit and gashing open flesh. Ben shouted, but didn’t let go. Blood from Rell’s earlier rock-based attack dripped down from the ruin of his ear.
Captain Rell summoned up all the remaining strength he possessed, knowing that if he failed in this, he would die. He forced….compelled…coaxed his right arm to move and grabbed the rock in his left hand in a two handed grip. He focussed his bleary eyes on the bridge of Captain Thomas’s nose and swung his stone like and axe-head.
Ben had to block. He had no choice. He released the Klingon’s throat and grabbed the offending rock in both hands. Rell’s knee found the commander’s side as Ben’s weight shifted enough to allow movement. Ben rocked, his balance failing, and fell aside. Rell pushed with his broken right arm and his legs and tried to get above the flailing human. Ben backhanded him in the jaw as he rose, setting him back on his haunches. With both men on their knees and nearly immobile, Rell saw a chance and took it.
Bracing on his folded left leg, the Klingon swung out with his right foot. He was almost too close, but managed to catch the Earther with the top of his boot behind the ear. Thomas toppled yet again.
Rell continued the assault, kicking out with a stomping attack that impacted in the mouth. Ben shouted and scrambled back on all fours to gain distance. Rell sat up to follow and caught a horrendous right cross in the cheek for the effort. The warrior rolled over the knife-edged jumble of earth and granite.
Should he survive this day, Rell resolved to have a greater respect for the physical capacity of the human beast…
The programmed alarm signal sounded from the helm. They had reached the point of no return. Lieutenant Surall watched as Ensign Torres’s hand closed round the throttle lever and began to pull it back. She also saw the shimmer of light forming before the Tenseiga, setting off proximity and emergency alarms throughout the bridge.
“Collision alert!” Larami shouted. He was visibly recoiling, ready for impact.
“Vessel decloaking!” Came from Kurita’s side of the bridge. “Ten thousand kilometers! It’s a Klingon ship!”
Surall locked her eyes on the resolving mirage as it gained substance. It was a D-7-Class battlecruiser, her weapons ports aglow and ready. And she was pointed away from the Tenseiga!
“Hold fire! Helm, secure from warp speed and set a direct course for close orbit, one quarter impulse power!”
The ensign flashed a look back at the acting XO. Her hesitation was not a long one. Her hands began to fly over the controls before her as PO Larami began to report. “We are secure from warp speed, XO. Impulse drive engaging!”
Surall watched as the battlecruiser led the way, slashing from high aport to low starboard on the viewer as her disruptors opened up on the surprised and unprepared Ya’wenn escorts. Several were simply rotating away from this new vessel, not returning fire, just trying to run. Still others hesitantly opened up on the Klingon cruiser. The D-7 shook under the hits, but did not turn aside. She had, simply by appearing, thrown the Ya’wenn into a panic. Now Surall had to capitolize.
“Mister Kurita, target the vessel ten degrees port of the Klingon and open fire, full phasers and torpedoes. Target their engine section.”
“Weapons…locked. Firing!”
Tenseiga jittered as the magnetic accelerators launched one torpedo after the other. The squall of the phaser cannon opening up could be heard, no doubt, in every compartment aboard the ship. The small escort craft under the Federation ship’s guns heeled over with the onslaught. Its shields sparked with electric pulses and visibly wavered. The missile impacts left telltale char marks with each hit. The sharp-nosed ship lurched into motion as she attempted to evade further strikes.
“Hostile going evasive. I’m maintaining phaser fire.” Called out the chief weapons officer. Across the small bridge, his junior officer also reported.
“Torpedoes reloading.”
A final phaser beam penetrated the Ya’wenn’s shielding like a pin through a balloon. It struck a long jagged line of fiery destruction down the flank of the alien ship. The phaser’s partner from the same bank picked up the assault as the first shut down to recharge. It stabbed deeply into the engineering bowels of the starship and shoved it half on its left side. The glow of the craft’s warp pods faded and died as Tenseiga passed it by.
“Close orbital range, XO!” Torres reported.
Surall flicked a look to the starboard tactical screen. The Ya’wenn to starboard of the ship were in full retreat before the Klingon D-7 cruiser. One of them was already sinking into the atmosphere of the planet. Tenseiga’s tactical computers listed that it was heavily on fire and had lost main power. The ships to port and aft of Tenseiga were closer, but had moved away from the Klingon ship. They were at medium weapons range and angled badly to attack. Their escorts had only two aft facing weapons.
“Cut shields.” She stabbed the intercom controls. “Transporter room! Ready?”
“We’re locking on, XO. There’s a lot of interference…but…got ‘em!”
“Energize!”
Ben Thomas raised the heavy rock that served as his impromptu weapon above his head and prepared to drive it down with all his might. Near senseless, Captain Rell put a weak hand up in a paltry attempt at defense. The human was about to end it. This had been a glorious battle. It only pained Rell that he had not been the victor.
There came a beep from the human’s belt and a tiny, blinking yellow light flashed out in the gloom. Thomas heard the sound and his eyes widened. He strained, swinging the rock down as fast and as hard as he could compel it to move. Blue energy consumed the giant human where he’d knelt beside the Klingon. The silhouette of his arms and rock continued their way down onto Rell’s head. The captain felt the tingly, warm wash of subspace energy flush over his forehead and face. He could only smile a bloody, bruise-lipped smile as Thomas’s echoing ‘NO!’ rebounded through the small crevasse that had been their battleground.
The rock came slamming down on the top of the transporter platform with a shattering crash. Ben was up on his feet just a second after, kicking at the busted, glass-like material that had shattered all around him. The curses and explicatives that rushed forth from his battered mouth caused the chief engineer to gawk in open fright.
“Just one more goddamn second!” Thomas thundered at the French woman, finger jutting in her direction.
“Cap’n!” Mathers’ voice compelled him to whirl, mind coming back to reality. “We need the doc!”
Chevis Ford lay bleeding all over the aft section of the transport platform. His own Bowie knife stuck out of him like a fence post. The man was covered head to toe in filth and bruises. Thomas felt himself pale. He could only wave in futility to the nearby transport tech to get to the intercom as he stared in shock.
“Is he alive?”
Mathers looked up and nodded, but his expression told that Ford wouldn’t live much longer. Ben dropped to his bloodied knees and bent over his smaller friend. He cradled the stubble-covered head like a child’s and held him close. He had his friend back. A member of his family. But how close to dying was Chevy? Had he put his ship and crew through all this to get Ford back only t have him die here, in Ben’s arms? Time seemed to stretch out impossibly long as Ben knelt there in the broken glass, holding on to Chevy.
Tears flowed freely down the big man’s face. They were still there when the trauma team arrived to get the commodore. Just as the medics cleared the parted door, Tenseiga reeled from the impact of a direct hit to her shields.
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Topic: Story Number 10! Of the Survivors... (Read 15079 times)