Star Trek Into Darkness Page 0,71

in which to make their peace with eternity, other crewmembers both on and off the bridge composed final thoughts, embraced crewmates, or whispered words they had wanted to say but previously had not possessed the courage or wherewithal to do so.

As for James Kirk, he had done all he could. He turned toward his chief science and communications officers. At such a moment there was little to say.

“I’m sorry.”

Closing his eyes, he silently awaited the inevitable.

XIII

The inevitable came—and went. On board the giant warship, the weapons officer unenthusiastically but professionally inputted the command. When nothing happened, he repeated the instruction not once but several times. Concurrently with his final attempt, a falling whine filled the ship’s bridge—the sound of power dropping.

“Sir,” he reported, at once alarmed and confused, “our weapons won’t fire! Phasers and torpedoes alike are inoperative.”

“Shields are down,” came the startled counterpoint from the helm. “We’re losing power!”

Meanwhile the chief science officer eyed the descending numbers of his multiple readouts and summed up the situation with an exclamation that would have been understood but not duplicated by his counterpart on the Enterprise.

“Admiral—what the hell, sir?”

“Someone in Engineering just manually reset every system on the ship, sir!” declared the weapons officer. “Not only can’t we use our weapons—I can’t even access the relevant instrumentation!”

“What do you mean ‘someone’?” Marcus snarled. “WHO?”

On board the Enterprise, Sulu gazed in disbelief at his readouts. “Their weapons are powered down—sir.”

Deep within the giant ship, a lone figure came tearing around a far corner and down an empty corridor, throwing furtive looks behind him. If he was not being actively pursued at the moment, he knew he soon would be. That he had accomplished what he set out to do was nothing less than a minor miracle. While well aware that his efforts could not pass unnoticed, he hoped that he himself might be able to at least survive. For a little while longer, anyway.

Fumbling with the communicator he had not dared to activate until now, Montgomery Scott stammered into it even as he continued fleeing from his deliberate acts of sabotage.

“Enterprise—can ye hear me?!”

On the bridge of the Federation starship that should by now have been reduced to a rapidly expanding sphere of ragged fragments above Earth’s moon, Kirk’s eyes snapped open at the sound of a familiar voice.

“Scotty . . . ?” He swallowed hard, not daring to believe what he had just heard.

The communications link was weak, but intelligible. Without waiting for a command from Kirk, Uhura was already working to isolate and enhance it. Meanwhile, Spock had hurried back to his station and was attempting to pinpoint the communication’s location. Thanks to their combined efforts, the chief engineer’s next words were far more audible.

“Guess what I found behind Jupiter, Captain?!”

A thoroughly dumbfounded Kirk could scarcely make sense of the question. “You’re on that ship?! ”

“I’m sure as Ifrinn not on the Enterprise, Captain! An’ seein’ as how I’ve just committed an extensive act o’ treason against a Starfleet admiral and sabotage on Starfleet’s newest vessel, I’d bloody well like to get off this bloody ship—now beam me the hell out! You should ’ave me located by now—assumin’ Mr. Spock’s been doin’ his job and not lollygaggin’ about while I’ve been talking!”

The Enterprise’s science officer commented without looking up from his position. “Still fine-tuning for transfer, Captain. And,” he added in his usual monotone, “I do not ‘lollygag.’”

It was left to Kirk to respond to the frantic chief engineer. “Uh, we’re a little low on power at the moment, Scotty. That includes power for the transporter, I’m afraid. Stand by, we’re working on it . . .”

“You stand by!” Scott howled back. “What happened to the Enterprise? If you don’t get me . . .”

Was that the tattoo of boots on metal he was hearing via the chief ’s communicator, Kirk wondered? He shouted a query, even though he knew that the ship’s instrumentation would automatically moderate the volume of his response.

“Scotty? Mr. Scott?! ”

“Call you back,” was the last the captain heard from his ex–chief engineer.

“Scotty?”

There was no reply. Either the chief had been forced to run from pursuit, or else . . .

No. There could be no “or else.” Not now. The Enterprise had been spared, though for how long it was impossible to know. Moving to the back of the bridge, he confronted his science officer.

“Spock, our ship—how is she? Suggestions for immediate operations.”

“Our options remain very limited, Captain. We cannot fire and we cannot flee.”

“There is one

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