Star Trek Into Darkness Page 0,48

to have been carried, much less operated, by one individual. Yet the new arrival wielded it as effortlessly as if it was a light pistol.

Uncertain where to train their fire first, the startled Klingons were forced to split their attention between the crew of the downed craft and the absurdly over-weaponized interloper. Lowering the muzzle of the impossibly large weapon he was wielding, the heavily garbed humanoid figure began to pick the Klingons off with extraordinary precision. The size of a small cannon and featuring a peculiar tooth-shaped muzzle, the heavy gun he held in his right hand continued to wreak havoc among the scattering soldiers.

Angling his oversized weapon upward, the stranger proceeded to hit one of the patrol ships precisely in its most vulnerable spot as it drew close and attempted to intervene. Gushing fire and racked by a succession of explosions, the craft veered sharply to one side before coming to ground in a gout of flame. Even as he took out the patrol craft, the newcomer was repeatedly firing the smaller weapon he gripped in his other hand, taking down one Klingon after another, no matter where they attempted to seek shelter.

In response to the downing of the patrol craft, a second brace of Klingons rappelled swiftly down from its companion vessels to join in the fight on the ground. As soon as they landed, they found themselves under fire from the intruder, who swiftly decimated their ranks, even swinging the enormous power rifle he was manipulating so that the heavy barrel took out the legs of the one Klingon who got near enough to threaten him.

Moving into narrower gaps among the ruins, the fight had quickly devolved into hand-to-hand combat. Narrowly avoiding a shot, Kirk took out his attacker in time to save Hendorff. He lived only another moment, however. Ducking around a debris-strewn corner, Hendorff all but ran into the lethal edge of a bat’leth that caught him square across his neck. Death came quickly.

Not only was this group of Klingons big, Kirk noted, but they were fast. Thanks to the intervention of the still-unknown stranger, however, their numbers were being rapidly reduced.

That did not prevent two of them from taking Kirk down. One quickly put a foot on his neck, preparatory to delivering a fatal blast. With astounding precision, a pair of carefully placed bursts from the intruder’s hand weapon blew both of them off the prone captain. Seeing him go down, Uhura had rushed to his side.

Yet another direct hit from the stranger’s larger weapon damaged the second hovering patrol craft so badly that it lost control. Careening to starboard, it spun wildly to one side before it slammed into the ground nearby and burst into flame.

Stunned, Kirk and his companions looked on as, by himself and without apparent strain, their savior proceeded to battle the remaining Klingon forces. It was a display of individual martial capability that seemed more appropriate for a war machine than a single, living individual.

And the intruder’s identity, concealed behind the cowl and overcoat, was soon revealed as he pulled the protective wrappings away from his face.

Leaping from the crossbeam that had been his perch since the start of the fight, John Harrison took down the remaining Klingons in brief, efficient hand-to-hand combat, utilizing a combination of edged weapons and bare hands that seemed better suited to sport than to unregulated combat. Picking up a dropped rifle, he moved quickly to where Kirk lay flanked by his friends.

Aiming his own weapon at the rapidly approaching Harrison, Spock barked an order. “Stand down!”

Rifle still focused on Kirk, Harrison ignored the warning as well as the Vulcan who had spoken it. “How many of the new torpedoes are on board the Enterprise?”

“Stand down!” Spock repeated, more insistently this time.

Raising his weapon, Harrison fired with the same uncanny speed and skill he had already demonstrated to such devastating effect in the course of the preceding confrontation. The shot blew a startled Spock’s weapon right out of his grasp.

While an equally stunned Kirk simply stared back at him, the renegade raised his smaller weapon to point it directly at the captain’s face. “The torpedoes. The weapons you threatened me with in your message. How many are there?” His voice was insistent, demanding, and devoid of any indication that its owner had just participated in a lengthy battle so physically debilitating that he ought to have been fighting for breath instead of issuing calm demands.

Kirk found himself unable to reply. Not because he