was clearly visible on the aft viewer. Though smaller than the D7 battle cruisers the Federation had encountered in deep space, this greenish gray “bird-of-prey” scout ship, with its arched “wings” and its angular markings, reflected its Klingon designers’ penchant for engineering fighting ships that reflected arboreal predators. Numerous flanges, probably serving as cooling elements, festooned the aft portions of the fuselage. To human eyes, the Klingons’ ships were a contrasting meld of elegant and efficient: They were ugly-functional.
Staring straight ahead, Spock spoke up softly but urgently. “If you are suggesting we utilize what might or might not be a passage between the approaching structures, this ship will not fit between them.”
“We’ll fit.” Kirk held tight to the manual controls as he started to angle them sideways.
“We will not.” Spock’s voice rose ever so slightly.
“We’ll fit, we’ll fit!” Kirk whipped the straining trading craft to the left so that it was now flying edge-on to the ground.
An increasingly alarmed Spock would have argued further, but there was no time. Inclining their ship to match the slender vertical opening just ahead, Kirk maintained full power as he aimed for the gap. At least, he thought, if he was wrong, he would not have to listen to the Vulcan chide him for a bad decision. As an additional benefit, there would be nothing left of the intruding ship or its occupants for the Klingons to conclusively identify.
Behind them, their pursuer broke off to gain altitude. By the time it would reconnect with its target, they would hopefully have slipped away to another part of the city. Kirk let out a yell as the outermost fringes of their ship scraped against one structure, then another, sending bits of the ancient buildings tumbling toward the ground. Sparks and smoke flew from the edge of the trading vessel, but unlike the structure it was impacting, nothing fell off. At least as far as Kirk could tell, nothing vital. He fought the controls to hold to a course that had mere centimeters to spare.
When they emerged on the other side of the cluster of tall buildings, the pursuing vessel was nowhere in sight. Keeping as low as possible, Kirk brought them around sharply. Using overarching structures for cover, he began to retrace their course, aiming to work their way back to Harrison’s presumed location. With luck, the Klingon patrol craft would assume they were still heading outward and would continue its search in a direction that would only increase the space between them. By the time those aboard realized their error, Kirk hoped to have Harrison in custody and be pushing for Qo’noS’s ionosphere.
“I told you we’d fit,” he noted, gasping for a long breath.
“I am not sure that qualifies.” Utilizing multiple screens, Spock was analyzing the external damage the K’normian craft had suffered.
“You can put that opinion in your report.” Kirk nodded at the instrument panel spread out before the science officer. “Any sign of ’em?”
“No. Which worries me.”
“Relax.” Kirk deftly guided them through a vast, now-empty staging area, further ensuring they would not be seen. Darkness momentarily enveloped the battered craft. “We lost ’em.”
“Or they’re jamming our scanners.” Studying the walls that rose to form a curved roof above them, Uhura was not optimistic.
Kirk’s voice rose slightly. “Or, we lost ’em.”
As they emerged once more into open air, Spock nodded forward. “I suggest slowing to a hover here, Captain.”
“Why?” It took Kirk another couple of seconds to focus on the source of the science officer’s concern. “Oh. Damn.” Muttering under his breath, he reluctantly brought the trading vessel to a halt.
Theirs was not the only craft hovering outside the vast but abandoned cargo facility. Another vessel had dropped down to position itself directly in front of them. There was also one to their right and a third directly overhead. As a technical battlefield englobement, it was lacking in thoroughness, but the presence of now three Klingon patrol vessels was more than sufficient to persuade even Kirk that any attempt to break free of the formation would result in annihilation.
“I thought we only had to deal with one of them,” he growled.
“Your use of the past tense is unfortunately accurate, Captain.” The first officer peered outward through the forward viewport. “I do not think we can escape from this formation.”
Kirk snapped an angry response. “Tell me something I don’t know, Mr. Spock.”
A slight flush appeared on the Vulcan’s forehead. Or more likely it was the fluctuating internal lighting. “Where would you like me to begin,