“The Torye?” McCoy blurted. “Jim, we’re not even ready to fight the Klingons.”

  “Mr. Scott,” Kirk said, “how are repairs going?”

  “We should have warp drive and phasers back online in an hour, sir. But… we’re in Klingon space, Captain. And we’ve no idea where the Torye went. We cannot just cruise around, hopin’ we’ll run into them.”

  “The needs of the many,” McCoy said tartly, “outweigh the paranoia of the one.”

  Kirk managed a weary chuckle. “Logic, Bones? How quaint.”

  “Then to hell with logic! I find the fear of getting blown to bits in Klingon space emotionally taxing.”

  Kirk stiffened, trying (and failing) to avoid looking defensive. “Even if I agree, Kang never will. He loves humans as much as I love Klingons. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

  The whistle of the intercom interrupted him, followed by Uhura’s voice. “Bridge to Captain Kirk.”

  Kirk keyed the intercom on McCoy’s desk. “Kirk here.”

  “The first officer of the Klingon vessel is asking to speak to you, sir.”

  Kirk didn’t even try to cover his surprise. “Oh? I’ll take it down here.” Mara’s face appeared on the comm viewer. “Mara. If you’re calling to rescind Kang’s honorable-death offer—”

  “No, I am proposing cooperation between us, Captain. Will you consider it?”

  “Will Kang?”

  “He has no choice. Neither do you.” Mara paused. “We know you blame Klingons for the death of your son at the Genesis planet.”

  “The murder of my son,” Kirk corrected through clenched teeth.

  “As I understand it, your son died an honorable death.”

  “Talk to me after your son dies an ‘honorable’ death,” Kirk whispered.

  “Captain.” It was Spock’s voice, and the view from the Klingon ship widened to reveal Spock and Morrow standing alongside Mara. “The Klingons have obtained intelligence regarding the Torye’s likely target. They are willing to share this information.”

  “In exchange for what?”

  “Assistance enabling them to defend against the Torye weapon.”

  “How do I know they don’t have disruptors aimed at your heads right now?”

  “We are under no coercion, Captain. Kang has accepted the logic of the situation. You each have information vital to the other, and you share a common goal- stopping the Torye. The odds of success are considerably improved if the Enterprise and K’tanco work together.”

  “Jim,” said Morrow, “I don’t like this any more than you do. But Spock is right.”

  Kirk felt the muscles in his jaw twitch. Has everybody but me gone insane? Klingons can’t be trusted. But it was a high tide he was swimming against. Was McCoy right? Was his obstinate opposition really about David? Never mind trusting the Klingons- a lot of people he did trust were telling him he was wrong. “Mara,” he finally said, “I need a sign of good faith. Return Spock and Morrow first.”

  “Don’t insult our intelligence, Captain. You need us as much as we need you. And our prisoners ensure that you won’t double-cross us. As a sign of good faith, I pledge that they will not be harmed, and they will be released when our mission is complete. Now it’s your turn.”

  “All right. Assuming we’re successful, I’ll see to it that the stolen weapon and plans are destroyed.”

  “If that is acceptable to the Klingons,” Spock said, “I propose an immediate truce between our two vessels, and a simultaneous mutual exchange of the information on the defensive countermeasures and the Torye target, to be carried out in thirty minutes.”

  Mara nodded. “Agreed. Captain?”

  Kirk forced out the words. “Agreed. A truce. Thirty minutes. We go after the Torye… together.”

  With negotiations concluded, Mara and three guards accompanied Spock and Morrow back to the brig. “Spock,” Morrow said quietly, “I’m not saying you should’ve, but you could’ve simply told Captain Kirk what you got from Klaa.”

  “Had I done so,” Spock replied, “the captain would not have been motivated to cooperate with the Klingons.”

  “And,” Mara said, “I would have had no choice but to kill you both on the spot.”

  “It is imperative that the two ships undertake this mission together,” Spock continued. “Additionally, actions we take now may yield collateral beneficial consequences in the future.”

  Morrow reacted with a small, knowing smile. “Spoken like a diplomat, Spock.”

  Kang paced the perimeter of K’tanco’s bridge like a penned klongat. He was not pleased about the agreement he’d authorized Mara to make with Kirk. He hated logic, and hated to be ruled by it, when passion was so much more satisfying. But an astute commander should know enough to recognize and use the expertise of his officers, without diluting his own authority. It did not wound his pride to acknowledge that Mara was not only smarter than him, but also more attuned to psychological nuance. And he had learned to trust her judgment in matters other than battle, so he was secure enough to defer to her today. The deal was struck, and he would honor it as long as Kirk did. At the first sign of treachery, however, he would slit the throats of Spock and Morrow with his own d’k tahg and transport a cup of their blood to Kirk.

  “Captain,” the tactical officer shouted, “weapons fire in the brig!”

  “Mara is down there.” Kang reached for his d’k tahg with one hand and drew his disruptor pistol with the other. “Summon all available security teams to meet me there.”

  As Kang raced through his ship, the roar of his blood rushing in his ears, he attained the controlled frenzy of the warrior who would give no quarter and take no prisoners. The lift door opened and he charged toward the sounds of combat echoing down the narrow corridor to the brig. In a matter of seconds, through the smoke and noise, all of Kang’s senses measured the chaos of carnage. At least five dead bodies in and around the hatchway into the brig, all Klingons… pools and rivers of Klingon blood… hand-to-hand fighting… but who were the aggressors and who the defenders?

  In a corner, he spotted Mara, one of Klaa’s men, and Morrow. The human held a d’k tahg… and was trying to kill Kang’s wife. But, wait, no… Mara was down, wounded, and it was Klaa’s warrior attacking her. Morrow flew forward, and his vicious slash nearly severed the Klingon soldier’s arm. The attacker screamed, and his long-bladed knife clattered to the deck. In one desperate motion, Mara lunged for it, grabbed it, and ran it through her assailant’s gut.

  Now Kang knew Klaa was the instigator, taunting fate with his second mutiny attempt of the day. Kang’s eyes searched the bedlam: Where is that Qu’vatlh Klaa? I will cut his throat and slice out his heart!

  Then, he saw Klaa on the fringe of the melee, trying to reach the exit. “To the bridge,” Klaa shouted, “to restore the honor of our fathers!”

  But before Kang could wade in, a cudgel struck him in the center of his chest. He fell to his knees, momentarily breathless. Kang saw the cudgel rushing down toward him for a death blow when, suddenly, it froze in midair. A new pair of hands had seized the arms of the Klingon about to crush his skull… Spock’s hands. Kang had no idea Vulcans were that strong, but Spock gripped the cudgel, gave it a thrash violent enough to dislocate his opponent’s shoulders, and bashed the man into unconsciousness with a single uppercut stroke. Without a word, Spock reached down, grasped Kang’s wrist, and hauled him to his feet. Face-to-face with Spock, Kang looked into those slitted eyes and saw, for a fleeting instant, all the savagery that Vulcans tried so hard to bury under their stifling blanket of dispassionate logic.

  Another one of Klaa’s men hit Morrow from behind with a flying tackle. Morrow crumpled, with the Klingon on top of him. The Klingon’s immense hands wrapped around Morrow’s head as if to snap his neck. Spock interceded with a precisely aimed kick to the back of the Klingon’s head, accompanied by the fatal crack of splintering bone.

  A moment later, a dozen of Kang’s security reinforcements flooded into the fight, and it was over in a matter of minutes.

  “Are you all right, Admiral?” Spock asked as he helped Morrow to his feet.

  “More or less, thanks to you.”

  They stood aside as two of Kang’s men carried a corpse past them. Morrow’s breath caught in his throat as he realized it was General Navok.

  Morrow sat on a bench in the K’tanco’s medical bay as a nurse tended to his and Spock’s injuries. Morrow had assorted cuts and contusions on his hands and face, and what he guessed to be a cracked rib, based on the sharp ache in his side. Spock had a gash over one eyebrow and a swollen right hand. Morrow winced as the nurse roughly applied a slimy salve to a one-inch cut on his cheekbone, then pressed a skinsealant device against the wound. The burning sensation caused by the device hurt more than the cut.

  “I guess the Klingons don’t believe in painkillers,” Morrow muttered to Spock after the nurse left to work on other patients.

  Spock flexed his hand gingerly. “Indeed. Submission to Dr. McCoy’s ministrations would be preferable.”

  “Did Klaa get killed?”

  “Negative. I saw him being reincarcerated with his surviving mutineers.”

  “I guess he won’t be getting invited to tea anytime soon.”

  “Unlikely.”

  Making small talk with a Vulcan was not the easiest thing, and Morrow was acutely aware that he was babbling. He wondered if Spock was thinking what he was thinking… and whether he should just confess or forget the whole subject, the elephant in the room with them. I condemned this man to death on Genesis a half-dozen years ago when I ordered Jim not to go back there. I didn’t mean to. How the hell was anybody supposed to know he’d end up being… reconstituted? Even Jim didn’t know. He just had this feeling, like he had to go there, even if there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell. I’ve never had that kind of connection with anybody… can’t even imagine it. If I’d understood what Spock meant to him, I’d have let him go. Hell, I’d have ordered him to go. But I didn’t. And now Spock saves me. I have to say something….

  “Spock,” Morrow said in a hoarse whisper, “you know you saved my life back there.”

  “You would have done the same, had the situation been reversed. You saved Mara’s life.”

  “I owe you my life, but I very nearly cost you yours.”

  Spock arched one eyebrow. “When?”

  Morrow stared. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Explain.”

  “At Genesis. The only reason you were here to save me today is because Jim Kirk ignored my direct order six years ago.”

  “He has been known to do that from time to time.”

  “Are you saying you’ve never blamed me?”

  “For what?”

  Morrow almost laughed, wondering if Spock was being deliberately obtuse just to annoy him. But Vulcans didn’t do that… did they? “Nobody knew you were alive. If Jim hadn’t stolen the Enterprise and gone back there, you’d have died there… again… when the planet came apart at the seams.”

  “That is correct. But your judgment at that time could not have reflected facts unknown to you. Assigning blame under such circumstances would be illogical.” Spock paused and frowned ever so slightly. “Though I may never fully understand the thought processes which led them to undertake my rescue, logic does not prevent me from being grateful for what the crew of the Enterprise did for me.”

  “Don’t you think it’s a little ironic that I gave the order that would have left you for dead? Jim Kirk disobeys and saves you, and that’s the only reason you were here to save me.”

  “Then it is fortunate that we are both here to appreciate that irony. Though it defies logic and cannot be supported by rational evidence, things, as you humans like to say, sometimes do work out for the best.”

  Morrow smiled and shook his head. “You’re an interesting creature, Spock.”

  “I shall take that as a compliment.”

  Mara limped over to them, making a stoic effort to ignore her own pain. “I trust our medics have given you satisfactory treatment for your injuries.”

  “We’ll survive,” said Morrow lightly.

  “Mara,” Spock said, “I should like to invoke a Klingon tradition.”

  She smiled. “I know what you are about to say, Spock.” Then she turned solemn. “You have shed blood in a Klingon cause. As fellow warriors, you have earned the right to be treated as honored guests, no longer prisoners.”

  Morrow looked surprised. “Well! Thank you. We appreciate that.”

  “Don’t abuse the honor,” Mara warned. “If you’re ready, we’re needed on the bridge. It’s time for the information exchange with the Enterprise.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  We’re helping the goddamned Klingons.

  It was a perversion of all Kirk believed, the last thing he expected to be doing. But their immediate situation left him little choice, no matter how justified his animosity toward the Klingons might be. So it was that an Enterprise team worked side by side with Kang’s engineers to repair the K’tanco’s warp drive, and Scott and Dr. elZana guided Mara and her specialists through the precise deflector modifications needed to defend against the Torye weapon.

  Meanwhile, using sensor data collected during their initial exposure to the subspace weapon, Chekov reconfigured the Enterprise’s photon torpedoes to make them less vulnerable to the subspace disruption matrix. The trade-off worked out to a fifty percent reduction in explosive power in exchange for fifty percent more shield protection for the internal components of each torpedo. Kirk wasn’t thrilled with that- but maximum destructive potential wouldn’t mean much if torpedo guidance systems failed and they missed their targets. Once Chekov was satisfied with the alterations, he shared the details with the Klingons.

  Then there was that damned mobile battle base. As Kirk reviewed the meager information Kang had retrieved from Klaa’s ship and was willing to share per their truce, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His starship, the pride of Starfleet, was three hundred and five meters long and displaced a million metric tons. The Klingons’ dreadnought creation was ten times longer, with thirty times the mass. Enterprise armaments included nine double-barreled phaser banks; the battle base had fifty. Enterprise could accommodate a handful of shuttles on its hangar deck- this thing could carry thirty birds-of-prey. Resembling neither a vessel nor a spacedock, it could move at warp five. It was ungainly, functional- and lethal, on a scale far surpassing anything in the Starfleet arsenal. Hell, we don’t even have anything like it on the drawing board.

  As a student of military history, Kirk recognized that such gargantuan bases could be the modern equivalent of old-time naval aircraft carriers, playing a key strategic role and changing the face of galactic warfare. But massive aircraft carriers eventually outlived their usefulness (as battleships had before them), becoming little more than oversized, unwieldy targets for ever-more-deadly and precise long-range offensive weapons.

  Whatever its ultimate function and fate, this battle base was a grave current threat to the balance of power in the quadrant. Steamed over Kang’s refusal to share little more than the battle base’s location and minimal specifications, Kirk was determined to gather as much intelligence as possible once they got close to it.

  Yet, for all its military transcendence, Kirk’s lasting impression of the battle base remained one of surprise: How the hell did the Klingons muster the resources to build something like that, given the economic stresses chipping away at the empire? That they’d been crazy enough to plan on constructing a whole fleet of the things confirmed Kirk’s unsettling suspicion that lunatics were calling the shots in the High Council, lunatics who appeared more concerned with bellicose chest-thumping than survival. Surely, the cost of a dozen copies would break the empire’s strained treasury.

  Finally, after two hours of unstinting work, both the Enterprise and K’tanco were sufficiently repaired and fortified, and they headed for the battle base.

  What neither captain knew was that the battle base was heading for them.

  Not exactly what we expected, Theena thought as she walked through the dimly lit bowels of this Klingon monstrosity. The Torye had been pleasantly surprised to find it occupied only by a skeleton maintenance and construction crew, so the actual capture turned out to be bloodless. With the subspace weapon working better the second time, they’d been able to catch the Klingons completely defenseless. Once their immense set of warp reactors were suddenly offline, the Klingons found themselves without power for weapons or shields, and they had no reason to disbelieve what Vykul told them- that they’d been conquered and had no option other than unconditional surrender. Since they were engineers and workers rather than dedicated military warriors, they complied with only token resistance.

  By sheer mass alone, the battle base was initially quite impressive. But its deficiencies started becoming apparent the moment the Torye crew stepped off their ship in the cavernous hangar bay, and found not a flotilla of battle-ready birds-of-prey but a mere pair of work-worn shuttlecraft. Once aboard, Vykul split his people up for a more detailed inspection of their new acquisition.

  Three-quarters of the base’s interior turned out to be unfinished, mostly skeletal superstructure still awaiting installation of decks and bulkheads. Less than half the disruptor banks were operational, and the armory inventory was mostly vast empty racks where thousands of torpedoes should have been. And even in the sections which were more or less completed, Theena noted substandard materials and shoddy construction- a general observation rendered frighteningly specific when she stepped out of a balky turbolift and twenty feet of decking partially collapsed under her, leaving her dangling from a set of rickety crossbeams. It was almost as if the base had been built by apathetic slave labor- which, knowing the Klingons, could have very well been the case.

  Had Klaa been able to realize his dream and seized the battle base, he would have been extremely angry and disappointed by the reality. Considering all its shortcomings, Theena would have had substantial misgivings about taking the base into actual combat. Fortunately, the Torye had other plans. All they really needed was a more powerful source of reliable energy for the subspace weapon, and the base’s warp drive was among the few systems actually functioning up to nominal levels.