armed by the sending of an electronic code. Once on the warship, they and their potentially dangerous warheads would be immune to interference from outside, safe behind the warship’s shields. And if only one was manually armed . . .”
The chief engineer was nodding to himself. “Aye . . . then Khan would have to scan that one specifically to even suspect anything was amiss. One warhead a’tick-tocking out of seventy-two.” He shook his head in admiration at the science officer’s audacity. “I can see where to Mr. Spock those would be pretty good odds.”
“Game playing.” Kirk was nodding soberly to himself. “Even a superman should know better than to play chess with a Vulcan.”
On the bridge, Spock leaned back into the firm cushioning of the command chair. “Brace for impact,” he commanded evenly.
This is going to work, he told himself. It had to work. He had computed the probability of success very carefully before deciding to go ahead with the plan.
Even so, he was grateful that none of his colleagues could see how his fingers tightened ever so imperceptibly on the arms of the command chair.
Kirk’s supposition was correct—Spock had ordered Dr. McCoy to arm only a single warhead out of the seventy-two available in the hope that it would not be one that Khan would scan. Now it was inside the warship.
And upon detonation, there were no shields to dampen the force of its explosion, no external walls to absorb any flying fragments. The cargo bay took the full force of the blast. Anything within effective range of the discharge was blown apart.
Including the remaining seventy-one functional warheads that were mounted on the seventy-one other torpedoes.
A gigantic hole ripped open in the stern of the warship. One powerful explosion followed close upon another, then yet more. Systems did not merely go down—they were entirely obliterated. Disruption spread throughout the great ship, affecting everything from life support in the rear four-fifths of its volume, to motive power, to shields and weapons systems. No corner of the crippled vessel was spared.
Igniting oxygen spread brief but intense flames to other parts of the ship. Huge fireballs flared into space as one section after another of the mighty vessel’s structural integrity was violated. As might be expected on board a state-of-the-art warship, fire suppression worked miracles, but it could not prevent a chain of instruments from being fried, nor entire compartments from being reduced to shards of metal, plastic, and other materials that were hurled into the surrounding vacuum.
The bridge suffered horribly, but as the most heavily shielded and best protected section of the ship, it maintained life-support functionality. Barely. Much else went down. Fire and escaping gases filled the vaulted compartment. Consoles collapsed upon themselves. Nothing moved save flame and smoke.
Then a single hand could be discerned: rising, clutching at the still-intact command console. Pulling himself up out of the wreckage that now surrounded him, eyes blazing, Khan embarked on the first of innumerable necessary work-arounds in a determined attempt to keep the warship’s instrumentation functional.
Sulu could not repress a grin as he reported to the science officer. “Sir, their weapons have been knocked out. Not bad, Commander.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
Still supporting Carol Marcus between them, Kirk and Scott finally arrived at sickbay. No second explosions jolted them or otherwise threatened their balance.
“Bones— Nurse!”
At once startled and relieved to see them, staff swarmed around the new arrivals. Among those eager to help was Uhura, who assisted the captain in gently easing Carol onto a vacant bed.
“What happened?” she queried the other woman intently. “Are you okay?”
Striving to smile through the pain, Carol managed a weak nod at the communications officer. “I’ll be all right. But my father . . .” Her voice trailed off as she turned her head away.
One day she would have to try and reconcile the man who had raised her with the man she had known in his final moments. People changed with age, she knew. Some grew content, some bitter. Something similar had happened to her father. One day she would learn what that was . . . but not now.
Off to one side, an exuberant McCoy greeted Scott, who was being attended to by a pair of nurses, before moving on to express his joy at the return of his commanding officer and friend.
“Good to see you, Jim.”
Kirk nodded tiredly. “I never thought I’d say this, but it’s a relief to find myself in sickbay.” He gazed earnestly at the smiling doctor. “It was you, wasn’t