Star Trek New Frontier 03 The Two-Front War

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STAR TREK NEW FRONTIER

BOOK THREE

THE TWO-FRONTWAR

PETER DAVID

POCKET BOOKS New York London

Toronto Sydney Tokyo Singapore

The sale of this book without its cover Is

unauthorized. If you

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received payment for the sale of this "stripped

book."

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters,

places and

incidents are products of the author's imagination

or are used

fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual

events or locales or persons,

living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

An Original Publication of POCKET

BOOKS

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Schuster Inc. 1230 Avenue of

the Americas, New York, NY 10020

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This book is published by Pocket Books, a

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Printed in the U.s.a. MACKENZIE

I. Captain's Log, Stardate

50926.1-The Excalibur has been

endeavoring to provide humanitarian aid to the

stranded vessel Cambon

and its four dozen passengers presently in

sickbay. However, we now

find ourselves face-to-face with an unexpected

intruder, who has opened fire on us.

First Officer's Log, Stardate

50926.1-Our attempt to effect repairs

on a stranded private crew ship, the Cambon,

populated by refugees from the fallen Thallonian

government, has been interrupted by the

appearance of an unknown vessel, which is reacting

in a hostile manner to what is undoubtedly perceived

as our trespass. Ideally, Captain

Calhoun should be able to handle this matter in a calm

and reasonable

manner.

"I WANT To BLOW THOSE BASTARDS out of

space." The Excalibur had just been rocked by the

opening salvo from the black-and-silver ship that

hung 100,000 kilometers to starboard. The

phasestplasma cannons had

pounded against the starship's shields, firing

specially created

"phaserstplasma" essentially designed not

to smash shields apart, but

instead to determine the wave harmonics of the

shielding and basically eat through them with violent force.

The first of the blasts went a

long way toward cracking through the primary

shields, and the Excalibur was jolted by the impact.

Nonetheless, even though the starship had

been subjected to this most undignified and

unprovoked attack, Captain Calhoun's

angry order prompted a

startled gasp from Commander Shelby. "Captain-to "

"Save the

indignation, Commander. I didn't say I would .

. . merely that I wanted to. Still, the

day's young," and Calhoun rose from his chair, looking

energized and confident. "Lefler, damage

report." "Some damage on

primary shields," Robin Lefler reported from

ops. "No structural

damage. Forward shields at eighty percent and

holding." "McHenry . . ." began Calhoun.

And to his surprise, the normally laid-back

helmsman said in staccato fashion, "I've

angled the ship to protect the damaged shields,

sir. Taking evasive action." He caught

Lefler's look

from the corner of his eye and turned to glance at the

captain. "Was

that jumping the gun, sir?" "Yes, but I'll

let it go this time,"

replied Calhoun, who had in fact been about

to issue exactly those

orders. "Mr. Boyajian, have you raised them

yet?" "Not yet, sir."

Boyajian, a tall, black-haired

tactical specialist, had stepped in to

cover for Zak Kebron while the security

chief was off-ship. Calhoun

spoke briskly and forcefully, yet in a

manner so unhurried that it gave the impression he

felt fairly unthreatened by the present situation.

Whether that was truly the case or not was impossible

to tell. "Keep

trying, but meantime see if you can determine where their

key points of vulnerability are and target them."

"Trying, Captain. Tough to scan

them through their shields."

"Do your best." He turned toward the science

station. "Lieutenant

Soleta, any thoughts on the ship's pedigree?"

"Although the vessel

bears passing similarities with Kreel

vessels, it is not of that race," she said as she

checked her scanners. "It will take time to make a

full analysis." "Fine, you've got twenty

seconds." "I appreciate the

leisure time, sir." "They're coming around again,"

warned Shelby.

"Firing again!" Boyajian warned. Two

phasestplasma bolts streaked out from the underside of the

black-and-silver ship.mark McHenry's eyes

seemed to glitter with an almost demented glee as his

fingers flew over the controls with such speed that

Lefler, sitting not ten feet away, couldn't even

see them.

The twin blasts arced right for the front of the saucer

section, and would have struck it cleanly had not the

Excalibur suddenly-with alacrity and

grace-executed a forty-five-degree roll on

her horizontal axis. Terms such as

"sideways" had no meaning in the depth of space

when there was no other body, such as a planet,

to relate it to. Nonetheless, "sideways" was what

the Excalibur suddenly was as the plasma blasts

shot past her, bracketing her on either side.

"Excellent!" Shelby called out. McHenry

had had no more vocal critic or detractor than

Shelby when she had first seen him at his post,

apparently unfocused and uninterested. But faced with a

crisis,

McHenry had reacted with ingenuity and full

capability.

McHenry's response to Shelby's

spontaneous praise was to turn and grin at her.

Soleta, who appeared oblivious

to McHenry's maneuvering, glanced up from her

science station. "Sir, I believe that bulge to their

aft section is the key to their propulsion

system . . . some sort of a concentrated ion

glide."

"Mr. Boyajian, target it, ready phasers

for a threesecond shot at full strength. Then put

me on ship-toship."

"Aye, sir, but I can't promise they're

listening."

"I'll take that chance. Oh, and the moment I get

to five, fire."

"You're on intership, Captain," said

Boyajian, "but what did you mean by-?"

Calhoun didn't give him the opportunity

to finish the question. Instead, in a no-nonsense tone,

he said, "Attention alien vessel. This is

Captain Calhoun of the Federation starship

Excalibur. Your attack is unprovoked. We

will give you to the count of five to back off, or we will

open fire."

Understanding the earlier order, Boyajian's finger

hovered over the firing control.

And Calhoun, without hesitation, said, "One. . .

two . . . five. his

Boyajian fired the phaser reflexively upon

hearing the command, acting so automatically that the

phasers had already been unleashed before he

real- 8

ized that a few numbers had been missing in the

countdown.

The phasers lashed out, striking the attacking

vessel directly in the section that Soleta had

suggested. The attacker rocked wildly, the

phasers coruscating off the shields.

"Direct hit," Boyajian reported. "Their

shields held, but I don't think they were

particularly thrilled."

"I didn't expect to damage them," said

Calhoun. "Not with a three-second burst."

"A warning shot," Shelby realized. "To let

them know that we've targeted a vulnerable area."

Calhoun nodded, and that was when Boyajian said,

"We're getting an incoming hail, sir."

"Good. Let them sweat a few moments before

putting them on."

In a low voice so as not to sound openly questioning of

her superior officer in front of the rest of the

bridge crew, Shelby murmured, "If you

wanted to warn them, you could have fired at

half-strength. Perhaps even fired across their path rather

than an invasive direct strike."

"If I have a bow and arrow, Commander, I

don't shoot a padded shaft to my target's left

in order to express my annoyance. I fire a

steel-tipped arrow into his leg. That's my idea

of a warning shot."

"You're the Gandhi of the spaceways, Captain."

He smiled and then said, "Put me on with them,

Boyajian."

"You're on, sir."

"This is Captain Calhoun of the Excalibur,

was he said. "Identify yourselves and prepare to stand down

from hostilities. Otherwise I can assure you that you

will not leave this confrontation in one piece."

The screen shimmered for a moment, and the commander

(presumably) of the opposing vessel appeared.

Although distinguishing gender was frequently a bit

problematic in any first encounter, the Excalibur's

opponent looked distinctly female. Moreover,

by Earth standards she appeared almost angelic. She was

hairless, her skin golden, her brow slightly

distended in a manner that was-amazingly

enough-still attractive. It was difficult to make

out the color of her eyes, but when she tilted her

head they seemed to glow with an almost purple sheen.

When she spoke, her voice had a vibrato to it that

gave it a somewhat musical quality.

"I am Laheera of Nelkar," she replied.

"Do you wish to discuss terms of your surrender?"

"Surrender?" Calhoun cast a skeptical

glance at Shelby as if to say, Do you hear this?

He looked back to Laheera. "You expect me-a

Starfleet captainto surrender my vessel on

our maiden voyage to the first opponent who looks

to pose a challenge? Sorry. That's not my

style."

"And is your style trespass, then? We know your

type, Calhoun," said Laheera. Her voice was

such that, even when annoyed, she had a tone of

amusement 10

to her. "Our once-orderly sector is now

subject to the attentions of

scavengers and pirates. People who will take every

opportunity to ravage us, to feed on helplessness.

We must protect ourselves."

"I can appreciate that," replied Calhoun,

"but you've misjudged us. We're here only

to help."

"How do we know? Why, there is a transport

vessel right next to you that is empty and damaged.

How do we know you haven't picked it clean of

whatever it might have had to offer?"

"The transport vessel's crew is aboard this

ship. We were lending

humanitarian aid. If you wish, I can have you

speak to its captain and a delegation of its crew."

Laheera glanced to the side of the screen and

murmured something, as if consulting with someone unseen.

Then she looked back and said, "That would be

acceptable."

"Give us five minutes. Calhoun out." He

didn't even wait for the screen to blink off as he

said, "Bridge to sickbay."

"Sickbay, Dr. Selar here," came the

crisp response.

"Doctor, I'd like you to get Captain Hufmin

and a couple of representatives of the Cambon

passengers up here immediately. Whoever is healthiest and

is qualified to speak on their behalf. And make it

fast."

"Will three minutes suffice?"

"Make it two. Calhoun out." He promptly

turned to Boyajian and said, "Can you raise the

Marqudnd?"

"Aye, sir."

"Good. Get me Si Cwan on subspace.

I want to see what he knows about these

"Nelkar" people."

He looked to Shelby and he knew what she was

thinking. She was musing that if Calhoun hadn't let

Si Cwan and Zak Kebron head out in the runabout

for the purpose of rendezvous with the ship Kayven

Ryin, then he would be aboard the Excalibur now,

in a position to be of some use. Shelby, however, was

far too good an officer to voice those thoughts . . .

at least, while other crewmen were around. So instead

she nodded noncommittally and simply said, "Good

plan, sir."

"Zoran, it's slowing down!"

Aboard the Kayven Ryin, a group of

Thallonians had been watching the approach of the

Marquand with tremendous interest and smug excitement.

For what seemed the hundredth time, Zoran had

checked over his disruptor, making certain that the energy

cartridge was fully charged. But with the alarmed shout from

one of his associates, Rojam, Zoran tore

himself away from his preoccupation with his weapon.

Rojam was correct. The Marquand, dispatched by the

Excalibur and bearing the unknowing target of

Zoran's interest-named Lord Si Cwan, former

prince of the Thallonian Empire--had been

proceeding at a brisk pace toward the

Kayven Ryin.

"They suspect," muttered Rojam.

"Do something, then," snapped Zoran. "We can't

be this close to having Si Cwan in our hands,

only to let him slip through our fingers now! I must have

his throat in my hands, so that I can squeeze the

life from him myself!" The other Thallonians nodded

in agreement, which was hardly surprising. Whenever

Zoran spoke, the others had a tendency to concur.

Reactivating the comm. channel, Rojam hailed

the oncoming runabout. He tried not to sound nervous,

apprehensive, or all that eager, although a little of

any of that would have been understandable. After all, they were

representing themselves as frightened, stranded passengers

aboard a crippled science vessel. A degree

of nervousness under the circumstances would be right in line

with the scenario they were presenting. "Shuttle craft

Marquand, is there a problem? You seem to be

slowing." He paused and then added, "Aren't you going

to help us?"

There was no reply at first and another of the

Thallanians, a shorter and more aggressive man

named Juif, whispered, "Target them! Target

them! Use exterior weapons and blast them

into atoms! Hurry, before it's too late!"

"They're at the outer edge of the firing range,"

Zoran noted angrily. "We likely couldn't do

them any significant damage, and they'd still be in

a position to get away. Hell, their instruments would

probably inform them we're locking on to them.

They'd leap into warp space and be gone before we got

a shot off." The edge to his voice became more

pronounced as he said in a threatening manner,

"Rojam . . ."

"They're not responding."

"That is unacceptable. Get them on the line."

"But if they won't respon-was

Zoran's large hand clamped down on the back

of Rojam's neck, and the latter felt as if his

head was about to be torn from his shoulders. "Providence

has delivered Si Cwan to us," snarled Zoran,

"and I will not have him escape. Now get them on the

line!"

Never had Rojam been more convinced that his demise

was imminent. And then, as if in answer to unvoiced

prayers, a gravelly voice came over the

speaker. "This is Lieutenant Kebron of the

Marquand. Sit tight, Kayven Ryin. We're just

dealing with a communique from our main vessel.

Kebron out."

"Raise them again!" urged Zoran.

"I can't. The channel's gone dead."

"If they get away," Zoran said meaningfully,

"that channel won't be the only thing around here that's

dead."

Si Cwan stroked his chin thoughtfully. "The

Nelkarites, eh?"

"You know them?" Calhoun's voice came over the

subspace radio. "Are they trustworthy?"

"Nowadays, there are few in Sector 221-G

whom I would consider absolutely trustworthy,"

Si Cwan told him. "Relatively speaking, the

Nelkar had been fairly harmless. Never started

any wars, more than happy to accept Thallonian

rule. However. . ."

"However?" prompted Calhoun when the word seemed

simply to dangle there. "Well . . . they're a

scavenger race, by and large. Fairly limited in

their design and potential. They tend to cobble their

vessels together from

whatever they can find, using technology that they

don't always understand."

Soleta's voice was audible over the link as she

commented, "That would explain the somewhat haphazard

design of their vessel."

"Does that answer your questions, Captain?" asked

Si Cwan, not quite able to keep the urgency out of his

voice. "Because if it's all the same to you-was "Stay

on station. Do not proceed to the Kayven Ryin until

you hear back from us."

"But Captain-to "

"I want to get matters sorted out on this end

before you board that vessel, and I want to know I can

get in touch with you. If the comm system on the

Kayven Ryin goes out, you'll be

incommunicado."

"Captain-to " Si Cwan tried to protest.

But Calhoun wouldn't hear any of it. Instead he

said preemptively, "Did you copy those orders,

Lieutenant Kebran?"

Without hesitation, Kebron said, "Understood,

Captain."

"Excalibur out."

Making no attempt to cover his anger, Si

Cwan sprang to his feet and slammed his fists

into the

ceiling of the shuttle craft. Kebron watched

him impassively. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm getting angry!" snapped Si Cwan.

He began to pace the interior of the shuttle

craft like a tiger. "Why, don't you ever get

angry?"

"I try not to," said Kebron evenly. "If

I lose control, things tend to get broken."

"Things. What kinds of things," demanded Si

Cwan without much interest. "Oh . . . heads . .

. backs . . . necks . . ."

Captain Hufmin of the damaged vessel

Cambon, along with two of the

refugees--a husband and wife named

Boretskee and Cary, who had developed into a

kind of leaders-by-default-sat in the conference

lounge with Calhoun and Shelby. On the screen was

Laheera of Nelkar, and it was quite apparent

to Calhoun that Hufmin and company were spellbound

by her.

"You understand that we were only concerned about the welfare

of your passengers," Laheera said to Calhoun in that

wonderfully musical voice of hers. "Let us not

lose sight of one simple truth This is our

sector of space. You are merely a visitor

here. It is to our interest to watch out for one another.

It is difficult to know whom to trust."

"Understood," Calhoun said neutrally.

"Captain Hufmin . . . I extend

to you and your . . . cargo, was she seemed amused by the

notion, "sanctuary on Nelkar. We welcome you

with open arms."

Boretskee and Cary looked at each other with

undisguised joy and relief. "We accept your

offer," they said.

"Excellent. I shall inform my homeworld." The

screen shimmered and she was gone.

"Now, wait a minute," said Shelby. "Are you

quite certain about this?" "Commander, we are not pioneers,"

Cary replied. "We are not intrepid adventurers

like yourselves. We're just trying to survive, that's

a1Like Whether we survive on their world or somewhere

outside of the Thallonian Empire, what difference

does it make?"

"Isn't there an old Earth saying about any

port in a storm?" Hufmin

reminded them.

"Yes, and there's also one about fools rushing in,"

said Calhoun.

Boretskee bristled a bit. "I can't say

I appreciate being considered a "fool,"

Captain."

"I didn't say that-was

Cary cut in. "We are grateful to you

for all you've done for us. You saved our lives. For

that our next generation of children will be named for you. But,

Captain," and Cary gestured as if trying

to encompass the whole of the galaxy, "this environment

you sail through-space-you're comfortable in it. You've

made your peace with it. But myself, Boretskee, the

others in our group . . . we're not spacefaring

types. This vacuum . . . it presses on us.

Intimidates us. We almost died in it. If the

Nelkarites offer us safe escort and a life on

their world, we'll happily embrace it."

Hufmin took in both Shelby and Calhoun with a

bland shrug. "Look . . . I'm just a hired gun

here. They're the passengers. Barring desires that

run contrary to the safety of my vessel, I'm

obligated to take them where they want to go."

"Perhaps. But I'm not," Calhoun said.

They looked at him, a bit appalled.

"Captain . . . you wouldn't," said Boretskee.

"I have to do what I think is right. And I'm

loath to thrust you into a potentially dangerous situation

. . ."

"We're already in a potentially dang erous

situation," Cary pointed out. "We're in the depths

of space. That's dangerous enough as far as

we're concerned. It almost killed us once. We have

no desire to give it a second opportunity."

"With all respect, Captain, this shouldn't be your

decision," Boretskee said.

"With all respect, sir . . . that is

precisely what it is," replied

Calhoun. He rose from his seat and turned away

from them, his hands draped behind his back. "I'll let

you know what I decide presently. That will be

all."

"Now wait one minute-was

"I believe, sir, that the captain said that would be

all," Shelby said calmly, her fingers interlaced

on the table in front of her. "Temporary quarters

have been set up to house you and your fellow

passengers. Perhaps the time could be well spent

discussing your options with them . . . just in the event that

you're not all of the same mind."

"Apparently what we decide is

irrelevant," said Boretskee challengingly. His

fists were tightly clenched; it was clear that he was a

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