STAR TREK - TOS - 70 - Traitor Winds

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STAR TREK
TRAITOR WINDS
by
L.A. GRAF
"THROW DOWN YOUR PHASER,"
LEONG SAID.
Trying to copy the air of cool defiance he'd
seen Captain Kirk use so many times, Ensign
Pavel Chekov locked his eyes on Leong's
crooked smile and flicked his phaser away. It
bounced with a soft thump, and Chekov
didn't dare turn his head to see exactly where
it landed.
But Leong glanced after the weapon and,
quickly as he could, Chekov dove for his
phaser.
Leong intercepted him less than halfway
there....
Look for STAR TREK Eiction from Pocket
Books
Star Trek The Original Series
Sarek 29 Dreadnought!
Best Destiny 30 Demons
Shadows on the Sun31 Battlestations!
Probe 32 Chain of Attack
Prime Directive 33 Deep Domain
The Lost Years 34 Dreams of the
Rayen
Star Trek Al The Undiscovered Country' 35 The Romulan Way
Star Trek V The Final Frontier36 How Much for Just the Planet?
Star TrekIV The Voyage Home37Bloodthirst
Spock's World 3S The IDIC Epidemic
Enterprise 39 Time for Yesterday
Strangers from the Sky40 Timetrap
Final Frontier 41 The Three-Minute
Universe
42 Memory Prime
I Star Trek The Motion Picture43 The Final Nexus
2 The Entropy Effect44 Vulcan's Glory
3 The Klingon Gambit45 Double, Double
I The Covenant of the CrownS6 The Cry of the Onlies
5 The Prometheus Design47 The Kobayashi Maru
6 The Abode of LifeS8 Rules of
Engagement
7 Star Trek n The Wrath Elf KhanS9 The Pandora Principle
8 Black Fire 50 Doctor's Orders
9 Triangle 51 Enemy Unseen
10 Web of the Romulans52 Home Is the Hunter
11 Yesterday's Son53 Chost Walker
12 Mutiny on the Enterprise5S A Flag Fua of Stars
13 The Wounded Sky55 Renegade
14 The Trellisane Confrontation56 Legacy
15 Corona 57 The Rift
16 The Final Reflection58 Faces of Fire
17 Star Trek llL The Search for Spock59 The Disinhented
18 My Enemy, My Ally 60 Ice Trap
19 The Tears of the Singers61 Sanctuary
20 The Vulcan Academy Murders62 Death Count
21 Uhura's Song 63 Shell Game
22 Shadow Lord 64 The Starship Trap
23 Ishmael 65 Windows on a Lost
World
24 Killing Time 66 From the Depths
25 Dwellers in the Crucible67 The Great Starship Race
26 Pawns and Symbols68 Firestorm
27 Mindshadow 69 The Patrian
Transgression
28 Crisis on Centaurus70 Traitor Winds
Star Trek The Next Generation
Dark Mirror 11 Gultiver's
Fugitives
Descent 12 Doomsday
World
The Devil's Hearr13 The Eyes of the
Beholders
Imzadi 14 Exiles
Relics 15 Fortune's Light
Reunion 16 Contamination
Unif cation 17 Boogeymen
Metamorphosis 18 Q-in-Law
Vendetta 19 Perchance to
Dream
Encounter at Farpoint20 Spartacus
21 Chains of
Command
I Ghost Ship 22 Imbalance
2 The Peacekeepers23 War Drums
3 The Children of Hamlin24 Nightshade
4 Survivors 25 Grounded
5 Strike Zone 26 The Romulan
Prize
6 Power Hungry 27 Cuises of the
Mind
7 Masks 28 Here There
Dragons
8 The Captains'Honor29 Sins of Commission
9 A Call to Darkness30 Debtors'Planet
10A Rock and a Hard Place
Star Trek Deep Space Nine
I Emissary
2 The Siege
3 B/ood/etter
4 The Big Game
5 Fallen Heroes
6 Betrayal
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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
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An Original Publication of POCKET BOOKS
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POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon
Schuster Inc.
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NY 10020
Copyright 1994 by Paramount Pictures. All
Rights Reserved.
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IDA
/ \ STAR TREK is a Registered Trademark of
Paramount Pictures.
This book is published by Pocket Books, a
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All rights reserved, including the right to
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For our favorite parents,
Domenick and Evelyn Cercone.
Thanks for adopting one of us,
and for letting the other
stay up late to watch Star Trek.
Historian's Note
This adventure takes place shortly after the
end of the Enterprise's first five-year
mission, immediately following the events
chronicled in The Lost Years.
TRAlTORS
Prologue
U.S.S. DeGama Donatu Sector, Coordinates
Unknown Terrestrial Date December 25, 2269
2300 hours shiptime
"ALL HANDS, prepare for docking with enemy
vessel in thirteen minutes, seven seconds."
Admiral James T. Kirk looked up from his
coffee, tightening his hands around the warm
mug in unconscious frustration. He wanted a
window, or a viewscreen, or at least a place to
stand on the high-speed courier's bridge. He
wanted to know what DeGama's commander was
thinking, how the ship was feeling as they nosed
up to the alien security buoys, how the crew
would react when their communications officer
hailed the alien commander and requested
permission to board. He wanted to be something
more than a passenger waiting in a blind mess
hall for word of how the mission was going.
You want to be the captain, he told himself
reprovingly. But wanting that now wasn't realistic,
wasn't fair. He'd given up the right to stride the
cosmos when he'd accepted the promotion to
admiral all those months before.
Kirk glanced up at the chronometer above the
replicator array. 2304 hours. What was taking so
long?
"Admiral. I see that my son's characterisation of
your behavior was more accurate than I gave him
credit for."
1
L. A. Graf
Kirk turned from the chronometer with no real
surprise, fitting a polite smile to his features even
though he got no reciprocal expression from his
companion. He occasionally had to remind himself
that prolonged close quarters with aliens who
might not appreciate manners was no reason to
forsake them. "Spock served with me for a long
time, Ambassador Sarek. I would expect him to
amass some fairly accurate data as to my de-
meanor."
"Indeed." Sarek passed from the open doorway
with the smooth, silent grace Kirk had learned to
expect from Vulcans, even those as tall and
powerfully built as the ambassador. His feet
treading whisper-light on the bare deck, his robes
barely brushing one against the other, Sarek
rounded the long mess table to seat himself
directly across from Kirk. The admiral
straightened ever so slightly and pulled his coffee
a fraction of an arm's length closer, as if the
strong smell might be offensive to Sarek.
"Spock often remarked upon the human
propensity to expend emotional energy on events
which have not yet occurred. It was a behavioral
trait Spock found fascinating for its illogic." Sarek
folded his hands within the pools of brown fabric
that made up his sleeves, lifting one eyebrow at
Kirk's coffee mug without interrupting his speech.
Kirk had always assumed Spock was collecting
auxiliary information whenever he glanced at
something that way. He wondered what the
well-stained coffee mug told Sarek now. "I
informed Spock that you were an unusually
intelligent human being, with a clear under-
standing of temporal relations and your own
inability to influence them." The ambassador
cocked his head. "Was my assessment in error?"
"Not really, Ambassador, no." Kirk smiled
ruefully and took a mouthful of his coffee. It was
only lukewarm, and tasted bitter and stale. "I
think we humans view worrying as a way of
planning for the future of reminding ourselves of
all the things that might happen because of what
we do." Or don't do.
2
TRAITOR WINDS
Something in the focus of Sarek's dark eyes
shifted, constructing an echo of what Spock always
displayed as a frown. "That is highly illogical. You
cannot build models to any degree of accuracy
based on . . ." Distaste tried but failed to turn
down the corners of the ambassador's mouth. ". .
. imaginary information."
Kirk smiled, then remembered that amusement
might very well come across as rude, and
concealed his humor in a sigh as he pushed away
from the table. "Be that as it may, Ambassador,
you'll never convince humanity of it. Besides..." He
tipped the ruined coffee down the disposal bin.
"It's not the future I'm worried about."
"The past is equally beyond your reach."
"Yes..." Kirk punched up a new mug of coffee,
hotter and blacker than the last. "And so is the
present."
Sarek said nothing while Kirk retrieved his mug,
tasted it, and decided against adding sugar or
cream. For some reason, anything approaching
luxury seemed undeserved and sinful right now,
considering the intergalactic war that might result
from his failure here. He hadn't even let himself
sleep since leaving Earth sixteen hours ago. It
mattered to him that he be awake and aware for
every moment of this last-minute gamble to
prevent the galaxy from plunging into a conflict
that none of them could survive. It also mattered
that across the light-years of distance, Sulu and
Chekov could have faith that their captain
wouldn't abandon them to charges of treason and
murder. Kirk sincerely hoped they knew that.
"Why do you persist in assuming responsibility
for crimes other men have committed?"
Kirk snapped a startled look at the ambassador,
then bit back the first angry words that filled his
mouth. Sarek's face was as impassive as always,
eyebrows lifted in the faintest indication of
inquiry, head inclined as though listening intently
for the most subtle meaning in every sound. Kirk's
hostility "uttered when confronted with the
innocence of Vulcan curiosity.
"Because I'm their captain," he said, turning away
3
L. A. Graf
from the replicator to pace the narrow room.
"Because they're my crew."
"You were their captain," Sarek stated. gently, as
though correcting an equation for a child. He
pivoted in his seat to follow Kirk's progress. "They
are no longer your crew."
Kirk felt a searing flash of pain and anger, then
couldn't decide if his emotions were reacting to
the ambassador's coldness or the subject of the
ambassador's discussion. "It's about more than my
crew now it's about using my crew to try and
destabilise the entire Federation. That makes it
my concern." He stopped matching his passionate
stare to Sarek's stoic one, as if by sheer force of
will he could make the Vulcan understand all the
complicated feelings and beliefs that went into a
human's convictions. "I won't stand by and let my
crew be hurt. By anyone, for any reason."
"All hands, prepare for docking with enemy
vessel in four minutes, four seconds."
An almost forgotten sense at the back of Kirk's
brain confirmed the time estimate without his
even being sure how he knew the DeGama's
speed and direction. In contrast, Sarek glanced
briefly at the intercom, then the chronometer, as
if to verify the individual points in the data chain.
"It is because of your service to my son and myself
that I have made myself available for this negotia-
tion," the ambassador said, bringing his eyes back
to Kirk's. "However, I still fail to understand why
you believe anything you do here or with your
colleagues from the other side of the Neutral
Zone can affect occurrences back on Earth."
"Because it has to." Because nothing Kirk could
do on Earth would save everything, and he refused
to choose between Sulu's and Chekov's lives and
the Federation's future. Because taking daring
risks had never failed him before, and he wouldn't
accept that it would fail him now just because it
wasn't his starship racing toward the rendezvous.
Because if nothing he thought, or said, or did had
any hope of setting right the horrible wrongs in 4
TRAITOR WINDS
motion back home, then everything he believed
about life was a lie, and people really were
nothing better than powerless flotsam on the
mindless tides of circumstance. '-'It just has to,"
he said again, firmly enough to make it true.
"And if the war you seek to avert has already
begun?"
Kirk swallowed more coffee and resumed his
restless pacing, unwilling and unable to
answer.
EARTH
Chapter One
New Harborplace
Baltimore, North America
Terrestrial Date December 14, 2269
1730 hours EST
SMELLS.
That was what Uhura liked most about coming
back to Earth between starship
assignments rediscovering the unique scent of
every region and city on the planet. On board the
Enterprise, life-support systems recirculated the
air so efficiently that most smells got whisked
away before they even reached your nose. Older
ships and space stations tended to smell
unpleasantly like chlorinated hydrocarbons, while
the air on alien planets always held some note
that jangled on human senses, subliminally
warning you that you weren't really home.
But Earth . . . Uhura took a deep, happy breath
of the Baltimore night. Earth smelled of the sea
that ran in your blood, the trees that shared your
DNA, the perfumes and musks of all the other
human beings gathered with you in a city plaza
on a crisp winter night. Not to mention the sweet
smell of fresh-baked bread, the drift of smoke
from char-grilled fish, the rich, dark fragrance of
espresso
"I'm starving." Sulu voiced the thought in
Uhura's mind before she could say it. He leaned
over the harbor rail to peer into the
half-submerged geodesic domes of New
Harborplace. The lights of the underwater mall
9
L. A. Graf
glittered through transparent aluminumpanes,
illuminating the night-dark water from below. "I
hope Chekov gets us a table down there soon."
"Are you sure it was a good idea to send him
into the restaurant?" Uhura stood on tiptoe,
watching shadow schools of fish dart across the
undersea lights. Her wool tapestry coat threw a
fragmented glitter of rich colors across the water,
with the reflection of Sulu's flight suit a thin silver
slash beside her. As usual, the pilot had flown
himself out for their weekly reunion dinner. "You
know Chekov doesn't care if we ever eat. He
probably wouldn't even come to have dinner with
us here if it wasn't so close to Annapolis."
Sulu snorted. "That's true. But he's also been in
photon-torpedo mode ever since he entered
Security Academy give him a job to do, and he'll
do it, or explode trying."
Uhura turned away from the dark water to
frown at him, troubled by the uneasy note beneath
the usual mockery in his voice. It wasn't like Sulu
to worry. "Is something wrong?"
Sulu opened his mouth to reply, but a familiar
shout from farther down the dock interrupted
him. Uhura saw a red-sleeved arm waving at them
from the crowd around the mall entrance, and
blinked in surprise. "Chekov can't have found us
a table already it's Friday night!"
Sulu laughed, and this time Uhura heard only
merriment in his voice. "Let's hope he didn't have
to stun someone to get it." He pulled Uhura's
mittened hand through his arm and guided her
through the press of people. His distinctive flight
suit readily opened a path for them. It wasn't
often that people in eastern North America saw a
Starfleet test pilot, and a murmur of interested
comment followed them down the enclosed stairs
to the swinging glass doors. Chekov's head lifted
to scan the crowd as they approached, as if the
unusual ripple of sound had set off some new
warning instinct inside him.
摘要：

STARTREKTRAITORWINDSbyL.A.GRAF"THROWDOWNYOURPHASER,"LEONGSAID.Tryingtocopytheairofcooldefiancehe'dseenCaptainKirkusesomanytimes,EnsignPavelChekovlockedhiseyesonLeong'scrookedsmileandflickedhisphaseraway.Itbouncedwithasoftthump,andChekovdidn'tdareturnhisheadtoseeexactlywhereitlanded.ButLeongglancedaf...

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