Before Destruction! Read online

  said.

  "According to regulations, we are required to have them in

  that state of readiness in the event of evacuation. Isn't that

  correct, Mr. Grensk?"

  Lieutenant Grensk was unaware that the Captain was speaking to

  him, until his name was mentioned. He snapped his head up to face

  the Captain and replayed the question to himself. "That is

  correct, Captain. However,"

  "It appears we will have to, in the interest of adhering to

  Starfleet regs. concerning the safety of my crew, forego the

  Commodore's personal order to use the shuttle craft as

  transportation to the planet," Jim said, smiling inwardly but

  intoning his voice to express sadness at having to disobey the

  Commodore's order.

  "But Sir," the lieutenant stressed unemotionally, "the

  Commodore specifically,"

  "Lieutenant," Spock interrupted. "You of all people would not

  insinuate that the Commodore would order a Starfleet Captain to

  violate standing Starfleet orders," he stated as if it were a

  foregone conclusion, not a question.

  "No, Sir," he responded to the First Officer. "Captain, I

  would like to offer my services to Mr. Scott to expedite the

  preparation of one craft, in time for planetfall."

  PAGE 49

  "Request denied. That would keep you from the duties assigned

  you by the Commodore. Whatever they are." Kirk rested back into

  his chair, as if he intended to remain there. "Besides, I don't

  want you getting under foot of Mr. Scott's repair detail."

  "But Sir, I am fully rated on,"

  "That will be all Lieutenant," Jim silenced him abruptly.

  "Aye, Sir," responded Grensk. "Permission to leave the

  bridge?"

  "Granted," said Kirk and all eyes, many quite curious,

  followed Grensk's exit.

  "Mr. Scott, get your men started and keep an eye out for

  anything suspicious."

  "Aye, Sir," Scotty said and exited the bridge.

  "Uhura, have Security post four guards around the shuttlebay,

  with instructions not to allow Lieutenant Grensk admittance," Jim

  said, then added, "Tell Security that phasers are not to be issued

  to the guards."

  "Right away, Sir," she said as she pondered the meaning of his

  command.

  "Mr. Spock," Kirk said as he lifted himself from the chair, "I

  believe we have a date to keep in sickbay. Mr. Checkov, the

  con is yours."

  "Aye, Keptin," Checkov said eagerly, unable to restrain the

  joy from his voice. To him it was a rare and precious thing to sit

  in the command chair of the Enterprise. Few would disagree.

  The lift doors closed behind the Captain and Spock.

  "What do you suppose that is all about?" queried Uhura.

  "I don't know," spoke Sulu, "but the plot's thickening."

  PAGE 50

  *** NINE ***

  The Imperial Throneship Thunder dwarfed by far the brave

  vessel from Federation space. Blinking running lights were the

  only sign that these ships were under power and at the ready to

  enter battle on any given moment. The invisible deflector screens

  of both ships dropped simultaneously, on cue, as they reached the

  pre-arranged transfer point. Like two silent statues, they

  remained motionless, dispassionate to the rest of the universe.

  The Emperor stood on the dimly lit transporter platform with a

  guard on each side and a third directly behind, with his back

  towards the Emperor. All but the Klingon monarch had weapons

  drawn, as they prepared for the dissimilation of their atoms and

  their arrival on enemy's figurative soil.

  "rIH ,jol!", the Emperor commanded his transporter chief in

  their native tongue.

  The transporter field wave caught the four men, transferring

  them, body, soul and spirit, into the unknown. In literally 'no-

  time' for the Emperor, he found himself squinting in the bright

  transporter room of his enemy. Before him stood a tall, lean, blue-

  skinned Andorian, who bowed low to him and righted himself once

  again.

  The Andorian took one step towards the transporter platform.

  "Emperor Tromok of the Klingon Realm, my lord bids you greetings

  and welc... "

  The Emperor dove at the Andorian, knocking him to the floor

  and pinning him there. With a speed that belied his massiveness,

  he pulled a dagger from his wrist-band and held it to his

  opponent's azure throat. "What treachery is this?", Tromok spoke

  in a deep and deadly voice, "Where are my guards?". He and the

  Andorian were alone in the transporter room.

  "They are suspended in transit," the Andorian whispered as the

  pressure from the blade on his windpipe, would not allow volume.

  "They are well, I swear. My master sent me, unarmed, to escort you

  to him."

  "He betrays our agreement, and you will pay the price."

  "He does not, Sir," the Andorian whispered as boldly as

  possible. "He allowed you three escorts on board. You have three

  and they are on board... technically," he said as his antennae

  began to droop.

  "Now answer me this and choose your words with care, or you

  shall surely die. Why has 'your lord' practiced this deceit?"

  "He thought it prudent to keep," he took a shallow breath,

  PAGE 51

  "to keep our guards separate to," another breath, "ensure that no

  hostile action might," The Emperor lessened the pressure to

  allow the Andorian to finish his speech before passing out. "might

  erupt between your guards and ours. He wanted control of the

  situation to be between you and him. 'At the top', so to speak."

  The Emperor understandably did not believe that this was the

  whole truth, an element of it perhaps, but he knew there was more.

  The stakes were too high for him to back out now. In the least, he

  would lose his life. At most he would lose his honor, an

  experience he never wanted to face again.

  The Emperor lifted himself off the Andorian and with his free

  hand, grabbed the man by the back of his shaggy white hair, pulling

  him to his feet. He forced him against the wall and replaced the

  dagger to its sheath hidden in his wristband.

  "You will instruct your Master to let me speak to my ship.

  They will detect that I am alone and attack at any moment."

  "The transporter has been modified to allow your guard's life

  signs to emanate from within the system. Your ship has not lost

  contact with them. They merely cannot get a direct fix on them,"

  the Andorian said, still heaving air in and out of his lungs.

  Tromok checked his rage that was building up within him... for

  the moment. He was in a trap with every exit leading to

  destruction. All but one. The one he was being maneuvered into by

  his enemy. 'It is said,' he thought to himself, 'that sometimes

  the only way out is through. Very well. I am still the predator

  here. The trap will be my own!' He felt the mechanism inside his

  glove, giving him the confidence of one who is prepared for the

  worst.

  "Very well, lead me to your master," spoke the Emperor of

  Klinzhai.
>
  "Yes, Your Majesty."

  The Emperor released him and let him step away to catch his

  breath until he was able to comply. The Andorian calmly turned and

  proceeded to the exit. Tromok followed, keeping no further than a

  meter between himself and his escort.

  They made their way down the hall to a turbo-shaft, then up

  two decks and out to another hall, looking identical to the first.

  There were no other crewmen to be seen by the Klingon Monarch. No

  muffled voices, no other sounds than that of the ship itself and

  the footsteps the two made. He strained his ears to hear the

  rustle of clothing or the quiet breathing of an assassin possibly

  behind any door. He could detect nothing, but tensed himself

  against the unexpected anyway.

  The Andorain stopped short of a double door entrance marked

  'Conference Room One' and stepped aside to allow the Emperor to

  pass. He bowed low again and extended his blue hand, indicating to

  PAGE 52

  the Klingon that he may now enter.

  It would be a sign of weakness to force the Andorian to enter

  first but at the moment of Tromok's hesitation, the double doors

  parted. They revealed a long table with a massive chair at the far

  end. The figure seated in the chair rose to reveal his own

  impressive stature. His short light brown hair with streaks of

  grey, his posture and stance, his purple robe and even his eyes

  spoke of nobility and power embodied within.

  "Mocdar Jek Tromok, Emperor of all the realm of Klinzhai,

  welcome to my humble ship," he said with grace and a formal bow of

  his own.

  The Emperor stepped through the door which closed behind him.

  "And who is it that bids me welcome?" Tromok rumbled.

  "The man who offers a galaxy," he said and placed both hands

  on his hips. "I also offer you my hospitality. Please be seated."

  The Emperor remained standing. "Klingons do not sit with the

  enemy. Their Emperor makes no exception." He too placed his hands

  on his hips, facing his foe. His cape fanned out over his

  shoulders and spilled down to the ground. "Unless I am convinced

  otherwise, I will stand," his deep voice challenged.

  "Very well," the host smiled as if he regarded the Emperor as

  merely charming. "Might his Highness consider a truce until our

  positions are established?"

  The monarch considered this for a moment, knowing some

  semblance of progress must be made. "Agreed," he stated and eased

  himself into the chair designed for a smaller boned human. He

  pressed a button in his gloved hand and felt a tiny comforting

  click.

  "I assume that you have already decided on an offer for my

  weapon? Possibly several counteroffers, if the first is

  unacceptable to me?" the Host spoke, as he sat back in his own

  chair, draping his right leg over the cushioned arm. He looked

  thoroughly comfortable and nonchalant.

  "Before we bargain," the Emperor looked steadfastly into his

  host's hazel eyes, "I would know your name," he demanded.

  A smile that could charm a roaring volcano spread across the

  enemy's handsome face, "Of course you would," he said most amiably.

  "My name is well established throughout the known universe."

  "Enough!" the Emperor stood to his feet, toppling his chair

  behind him. With lightning speed he produced a small disrupter

  that was hidden in the small of his back. He aimed it at his

  opponent's midsection. "I will kill you without your name!" he

  bellowed.

  The smile never left the host's face, though he did raise an

  PAGE 53

  eyebrow at the Emperor's speed and shortness of temper. "It is my

  race's custom, granted an out of date one, to allow a last word to

  be spoken by the one who is about to be... 'deceased'."

  "I have no constraints to such a custom."

  "This 'is' my ship," the enemy simply offered.

  "So be it. I am not without honor, however, if I detect the

  slightest flinch, you will be indistinguishable from the dust of

  your vaporized chair."

  "Understood."

  "Speak then, this 'last word'," the Emperor commanded.

  "Your disrupter is... empty."

  The Emperor depressed the firing button. Nothing happened.

  "I ordered the Andorian who escorted you, to lock on to all

  close proximity power sources, which might be used in a weapon, and

  transport them to me." With his left hand he produced two small

  power cells of differing size from his breast pocket and set them

  on the table before him. "I know that this first energy pack is

  the one you assumed to be powering your disrupter. I am, however,

  at a loss as to what 'this' power cell was used for," he said,

  indicating the smaller of the two."

  The Emperor felt an intense pang in his stomach, realizing the

  sonic synthesizer hidden in his glove, was as useless as the weapon

  that was still pointed at his host.

  "No matter," said the Host, obviously in complete control of

  the situation. To stress the fact, he casually drew a weapon of

  his own, not aiming it but merely letting his guest understand that

  there may be a limit to his hospitality. "Please sit now, and you

  may yet find the answers to your many questions."

  "I will sit." He dropped his weapon to the floor and slowly

  righted his chair, "but I am weary of the games you play." He was

  in a mild state of shock at being so easily outwitted by the man.

  "You demanded my presence. Very well, I am here. All I need now is

  to know your price." He sat and faced his host, concealing his

  fury and his shame.

  "I have a price... and it is high, but I will not yet name it.

  And though I will not compromise, I am still curious as to what you

  intended to offer me."

  "I offer you first, your life. Make no mistake, that will be

  the first thing you will lose if I do not return to my ship.

  Whatever else it costs us."

  "No doubt, but continue," he said. His patience seemed to

  have no end, but the Emperor was not deceived. He knew a fellow

  PAGE 54

  warrior, and was feeling nothing but danger from the man across

  from him.

  "I offer you second, a planet to rule under me. You will

  preside over all affairs that you deem worthy, and you may

  establish any laws of your choice, as long as you remain loyal to

  the Klingon Empire. Which is the third part to my offer. In so

  swearing your loyalty, an oath not to be taken lightly, I will

  provide two fully armed battle cruisers for your personal

  protection. You may use them as planetary defense against any

  intruder who is not also loyal to me."

  "That is, indeed, a grand offer," said the host with a nod of

  his head. "If I were, per chance, a less ambitious man, I would

  consider accepting it." He stroked his grey temple with his middle

  finger. "It is good but it is not my price."

  The Emperor's face shone red and his jaw muscles flexed

  visibly through his cheeks as he clenched his teeth. He knew his

  own patience was required, but to expect a Klingon, and not just
/>   any Klingon, to endure the arrogance of this man was requiring too

  much. "What is your price?" he asked between his teeth, debating

  if he actually wanted to know. If nothing else, he would agree to

  all concessions, make and receive payment, and then obliterate this

  pompous 'targ', if he had to destroy a planet from beneath his feet

  to do it.

  "I, lord Tromok, am a ruler without an empire of my own.

  They say 'a king, less his kingdom rules an imbecile.'" His

  countenance grew suddenly cold as he forced himself to remember

  his past and likewise prepare for the revelation that he would

  now bestow upon the Klingon Emperor. "I had recently launched a

  campaign against the Federation, the very first stage mind you,

  only to have it thwarted by a man I would rather have fought beside

  than against." His own anger began to emerge as he spoke of his

  past. "I am hardly finished with Starfleet, but there is an old

  Klingon proverb that seems to be quite appropriate: 'If you cannot

  lead your own camp... lead your enemy's'." He stopped for a moment

  to see if his meaning was comprehended.

  The Emperor barely heard the words spoken to him. "If you

  have mentioned your demand, I have not heard it," he said darkly.

  "My price is the Klingon Empire!"

  "Then you do rule an imbecile," the Emperor spat hotly. "I am