Star Trek Into Darkness Page 0,46

Captain?”

Kirk’s ready reply was cut off by a burst of consonants from the cabin’s communication system. Even for a Klingon, he thought, the unseen speaker sounded more than usually irate.

It was left to Uhura to translate. “They’re ordering us to land. They say any further attempt to flee will be met by immediate destruction.” She looked forward. “Captain, they’re going to want to know why we’re here. We’ll give them the story about being K’Normian munitions runners. They’ll listen politely. Then they’ll torture us, question us, and they’re gonna kill us.”

“Not a good list of options,” Kirk murmured. “So we come out shooting.”

Spock put out a hand to restrain him. “The fact that we are not wearing our uniforms does not release us from our obligations to—”

“Oh,” Kirk interrupted him, “so we just go for the questioning, torture, and death?”

“There are specific procedures to be followed that can—”

Uhura inserted herself between them, if only verbally. “We’re outnumbered and outgunned. Captain, with all due respect, there’s no way we survive if we attack first.”

“More wonderful options,” Kirk muttered. “I’d be open to alternatives if there were any.”

“There is one, sir.” Surprised, both men turned to look at the determined communications officer. “You brought me here because I speak Klingon.” She stared down at him. “Then let me speak Klingon.”

IX

Two of the Klingon vessels paralleled the K’normian trading craft’s descent while the third remained hovering overhead. Despite the threat of destruction, Kirk briefly contemplated throwing full power to the engines and making another run for it, but stopped himself.

Even if they were able to somehow get clear without heavy damage, their presence was now a recorded fact. A patrol vessel had chased them. Its commander had patently called for assistance, and two others had joined in the hunt. If the intruding vessel got away again, there was no telling how extensive an alarm might be raised on this corner of the planet.

Kirk was willing to play long odds, but not three to nothing.

Rocking slightly in the steady wind, the trading craft landed: no easy task among the tangled, collapsing ruins. Wings folding upward, the K’normian ship’s descent was paralleled by the nearest of the Klingon patrol vessels. As soon as its drive shut down, a dozen armed Klingons in severe military attire emerged from it. Close-fitting helmets the color of bruised antimony covered everything above the neck save eyes, mouth, and nostrils, while multiple layers of faux leather that was tougher than anything gleaned from a dead animal protected muscular arms and torsos.

To the Klingons, the only mystery about the now-cornered and powered-down intruding vessel was where it had come from and what it was doing in the forsaken city. It had already demonstrated that, militarily, it was not a serious threat. One of the soldiers insisted to his companions that whatever it was, it was anything but a designated warcraft. Another remarked that he had seen more intimidating small vessels serving as funeral transports.

Conversation ceased among them as the airlock door opened in the grounded intruder’s side. The Klingon soldiers did not even bother to draw weapons as a single figure emerged. Bipedal and rather small, it was clearly unarmed and wore no armor. Nor did it require the use of a special suit or supplemental atmospheric gases, indicating that wherever it hailed from, it breathed the same air as the soldiers themselves. Eyes concentrated on the physically unimpressive creature as it approached. It halted almost within arm’s reach of several of the heavily armed troops, a cardinal mistake of combat on the part of the visitor that suggested either congenital stupidity or supreme confidence. When the newcomer spoke, there was a hint of command that hung in the air. By now, every one of the soldiers had identified the arrival as human. They were not half as shocked by this realization as they were by the visitor’s consummate command of their language.

Within the K’normian ship, Kirk and his companions strove to make sense of the confrontation outside while keeping themselves concealed from possible view by the Klingon squad. An anxious Kirk regretted not paying more attention to his extrasolar speech studies. Along with several other specified languages, he had of course also tried Klingon, but the language had proven too much of a struggle for him. Speaking it made him feel as if he were going to sprain his larynx.

From what he could see, however, Uhura appeared to be making contact. Whether that would mean anything depended on . .