Star Trek Into Darkness Page 0,23

off-world. Let’s say that’s just what he wants us to think he’s going to do. But why? Why would he engage in an elaborate misdirection like that . . . ?” His eyes widened slightly. “You’re suggesting this Harrison wants all of us here? While he’s still on Earth?”

Kirk nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir, all of us, right here, right now.”

“Kirk, you heard the admiral. We’re completely secure here. Just because Harrison somehow managed to pull off one monstrous act of sabotage doesn’t mean he’d be foolish enough to try and build on that by—”

“And this happened when . . . ?” an alarmed Marcus was saying into his communicator even as Abbott was finishing his thought.

First there was a whine, high-pitched and rising. Before it could be identified, it was accented by a blinding refulgence that flooded the conference room.

Kirk quickly got out of his chair and took a couple of steps toward the window that comprised one wall. Seconds later, he whirled and yelled:

“Clear the room!”

The conference room was located on the eightieth floor. Automated weapons systems mounted higher up normally would have targeted the intruder and let loose. Instead they remained inert, their internal programming having been interdicted . . . as the alarmed Marcus had just been informed. As if that were not enough, the intruding craft was now hovering so close to the tower’s exterior, all but touching it, that the building’s roof-mounted defensive weapons would have been unable to depress far enough to draw a line-of-sight on it even if their programming was suddenly restored.

Seated forward in the nearly transparent cockpit, John Harrison took note of the bipedal thermal images within the otherwise shielded conference room. He could have left the task of isolating them to the jumpship’s automatic targeting software. It was not in his nature, however, to permit machines to intervene on his behalf. Not when he could take personal control of an action. There was no pleasure in flying an aircraft on autopilot, no satisfaction for a chef in cooking with a timer. For that matter, a few indiscriminate blasts from the jumpship’s weaponry could quickly have destroyed the building’s entire eightieth floor. But this was not London and he was not the pitiable, easily manipulated Thomas Harewood. This was much more intimate, much more personal. Where would be the terror for those impacted in perishing from a few quick, all-consuming bursts?

He found it much more satisfying to pick them off one by one, swinging the jumpship back and forth just outside the tower, unleashing its weaponry in a controlled, precise, and wholly enjoyable manner.

As the room around him disintegrated piecemeal, one violent explosion following close upon another, Kirk threw himself over a table and flattened himself against the floor. On the far side, Pike was talking rapidly into his communicator, sounding an alert and calling for help.

A cadre of security officers came pouring into the room, firing through gaps in the damaged walls at the jumpship hovering outside. The distraction forced the attacker to momentarily swing the jumpship out of range and then back again so he could deal with them, giving several of the senior officers in the room time to escape the flaming, blinding carnage.

Captain Abbott was pinned beneath a collapsed support beam, screaming in pain. Only Vulcan strength allowed Spock to free his commanding officer and drag him toward the door. Medical personnel who had accompanied the first rush of security brought the injured man down the corridor outside, toward the elevator and safety. No one would have said anything had Spock chosen to go with them. Instead, he hurried back into the room to try and help those who remained within.

The metallic gleam of a pulse rifle that had fallen from the hands of a dead security officer caught Kirk’s eye. Snatching it up, he scrambled from the room. Unlike his colleagues who had successfully managed to flee, instead of racing for the elevator, Kirk turned and ran a short distance down the cross corridor.

Turning a corner, he pushed his way into an empty suite of offices. Through the transparent wall, he could see the raging jumpship hovering almost directly outside, still darting back and forth as it dodged defensive shots from the security officers inside the building. Its own armament continued to pour fire into the ruined conference room. Raising the rifle, Kirk let loose a single shot that brought down the thick safety glass in a shower of glistening shards. Rushing in from outside, a