The Original Series
Morning Star - Part 17
by Dave K. Jones
(sonirj1@yahoo.com)

Morning Star

Chapter 61

THE BATTLE

"Captain, a message to all ships: stand by to set computer interface!" said Uhura.

"Acknowledge!" Kirk touched a button on the arm of his command chair. "Bridge to engineering. All set Mr. Scott?"

"Aye, sir! It oughta be a bonny show!"

Kirk grunted but kept his doubts to himself. Now was not the time to begin sewing similar doubts in the minds of his crew! "Link your engineering controls into the computer matrix in five seconds!" He ordered as he watched the chronometer on the bridge bulkhead. "Mark!"

"Interface set, bridge!" reported Montgomery Scott.

Kirk turned to Uhura. "All set, Lieutenant. Please let the admiral know." Kirk looked again at the chronometer. The sensor drones had begun to detect the warp signatures of incoming alien ships. They would drop out of warp drive within thirty minutes. The ships under Admiral Karle's command were almost ready to receive them.

He felt a sharp sense of dejavu. A few weeks previous he'd voluntarily relinquished the control of his ship to a computer and Star Fleet was still recovering from the disaster. Now he was doing it again-well, not totally the same, so Spock said. Still, every fiber of Kirk's being screamed for him to remove his precious star ship from another possible fiasco like the M-5 experiments.

"Captain, weapons control and sensors are ready. Time to total interface is ten seconds!" said Spock from the science console.

"Very well," said Kirk automatically. The engines and weapons-sensor controls of Enterprise were under the control of the main computer of the Lexington. It was the same for the Exeter and the K'Reth. For once Kirk felt a kinship with Kang. The Klingon had reacted with outpoken anger at Karle's order to place his battle cruiser under the control of a human computer! It was a mystery to Kirk why Kang had gone through with it. Was it really the Klingon's sense of honor as a warrior, or were there more urgent priorities that compelled Kang to do what no Klingon commander had ever dreamed of?

The three human star ships and the Klingon battle cruiser that comprised what Star Fleet was now calling "Karle's Squadron" were stationed beyond the outer limits of the Morning Star System. Their position, according to computer analysis of the incoming alien's course, should place the squadron directly in their path. Kirk felt a chill pass down his spine. It wasn't the first time he'd waited while events moved him and his ship inexorably into possible combat, but in this case the plan of battle would be unique. When it was all over Karle would either be heralded as a genius, or a complete fool.

"Captain, a message from the flagship: Interface with all ships is now set. Enemy ETA is twenty minutes. Make final preparations!" Uhura reported from her position at the communications console.

"Acknowledge!" said Kirk. He touched the intership com button on his chair arm. "Captain to crew! We are in the final stages of our preparations. Make sure everything is secured and all hands are strapped down. Departments report final status. We're making history, ladies and gentlemen! Good luck!"

The status reports began to come in. Another glance at the chronometer showed the enemy ETA was now seventeen minutes.

* * * * *

On the Lexington Admiral Karle was pacing. It was natural for her, she was able to think more clearly and felt less nervous than if she just stood or sat in one place. They say that in everyone's life there are times when it's necessary to take risks, putting everything you are as a person on the line. So they say! Karle wiped her hands down the sides of her uniform. They left streaks of moisture from the collecting perspiration. She thought of when she'd been assigned as a Sector Commander at Star Fleet Headquarters, how she'd had the comforting realization that she was then safely shielded from ever having to make the kinds of decisions that meant life and death for anyone. She chuckled to herself without mirth. She had been wrong, so terribly wrong.

She looked over at Captain Steele in his command chair. She had to hand it to the man, he looked cool. Steele glanced over at her, saw that she was looking at him and quickly looked away. He's worrying about me, she knew, and was concerned about his crew, and his ship. Well, she mused, that kind of concern was part of the pie when a person accepted command of a star ship. A feeling of cold went down her spine at the thought. She was now in command of three star ships and a Klingon battle cruiser! She started to try to add up the number of people for which she was directly responsible, but stopped herself.

It was time to concern herself with the present situation and stop all this wondering. She paused by the communications station. "Lieutenant, have all ships confirmed their final status?"

"Yes, Admiral!" The com officer glanced at her nervously. She decided she'd been enough of a distraction for the bridge crew and moved to the second command chair that the Lexington's engineer had installed for her next to that of Captain Steele. Sitting down, she strapped herself in and glanced over at Steele. "Your first action?" she asked.

"No, but the first while sitting in this chair!" Steele gave her a shaky grin, his gray eyes troubled.

"I know, it's mighty different from just being a member of a crew. You should try it from where I sit!"

Steele shook his head emphatically. "With respect, Admiral, I'll pass on that honor. I'm no where near ready for it!"

She nodded, and looked at the forward view screen. Neither am I, she thought to herself.

* * * * *

On the K'Reth Skar stood next to Kang's command chair. The Subcommander cleared his throat and said, "I must ask, again, for you to reconsider, My Lord! Our ship and our honor is at stake!"

"As it is whenever we go into battle!" grated Kang, tired of Skar's incessant complaints.

"Yes, but this is different!" said Skar. "We are normally in command of our own actions, free to follow where our instincts lead us. But this! We are pawns in the hands of a Human computer! It's madness!"

Kang looked sidelong at his Subcommander, saw the genuine concern written all over Skar's face. For once he felt a kinship with Skar. "I totally agree with you, but there is little we can do under the circumstances. We are bound by honor to comply with the directives of this Human Admiral, no matter how monstrous it seems. We will have to face whatever comes with our wits and our weapons. Now sit down and strap in!"

Skar did as he was told. Kang ran his gaze over each bridge station. All appeared ready for what was coming, whatever that would be. It was possible he, all of them, were living the last moments of their lives. That, however, did not matter. What did matter was that those moments were out of his control. He'd maneuvered events to bring about the upcoming encounter with the aliens in order to put the Humans in a position where they would be compelled to show their weakness. To his enduring surprise they had reacted in a way he'd never thought possible, and now he was trapped. He felt like a cornered Sagecat. And not just that; the entire Klingon Empire would either benefit or suffer from the outcome of this one, relatively small, action!

* * * * *

"Our closest sensor drone is now detecting the passing warp signatures of the enemy, Captain!" reported Spock from the science station. "ETA is seven minutes!'

"Thank you, Mr. Spock," replied Kirk. He swung in his chair to look at each bridge station. All hands were doing their jobs quietly and efficiently. The Enterprise was blessed with an efficient, professional, crew. In his opinion, the best crew in all of Star Fleet! He felt a pride in his people, and a closeness that, he knew, was a violation of one of the prime corollaries of command: over attachment with those under his command. A commander had to be detached from the officers and personnel under his control. He was so, but only to a certain extent. The type of detachment referred to in the Star Fleet manuals was not possible, in his opinion, for anyone who was human flesh and blood. Maybe for a Vulcan or a machine, but not for real people, and definitely not for him! He was unable to think of the Enterprise simply as an efficient star ship, it was a home with a family!

His gaze fell on Mr. Chekhov. The ensign didn't appear to be overly nervous, but Kirk knew the kid was a mass of butterflies inside. It was time to help him out a little. "Mr. Chekhov, please confirm weapons control!" he ordered in his most businesslike voice.

Chekhov sounded a little tight when he answered. "I confirm veapons control is interfaced with computer matrix, Keptin! The Lexington computers are in charge!"

"Very good, Mr. Chekhov. Make sure all phasers and torpedo launchers are read, along with screens and shields!"

"Captain," came Spock's calm voice. "ETA is now three minutes."

Kirk turned to the science station. This entire situation still grated on him. "Is it possible to override the interface with the Lexington, if necessary, Mr. Spock?"

"Yes, Captain! The programming set in the matrix is provisional, and can be dumped if variations in the projected battle plan become too great!" Spock turned to face Kirk, an eyebrow rising. "We have discussed the safeties at length, Captain!"

Kirk nodded. "I know, but I can't shake the feeling we're redoing the M-5 disaster!"

Spock steepled his fingers in the way he usually did when compelled to explain something he thought had already been explained enough. "The self-initiative circuitry that over ran its parameters in the M-5 are not present in the Lexington's mainframe. No action can be taken except what has already been programmed into the system, unless it is an elective action taken by one or more of the ship captains!" Spock glanced back at one of his monitors for a second, then said, "ETA is now ninety seconds!"

Kirk hit the intership com button. "Captain to crew. Action is less than two minutes!" Then to the bridge crew, "Be sure you're strapped in securely! Here we go, people!"

Everyone watched the forward view screen. The seconds dragged by. Kirk drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair. The first test of Admiral Karle's plan was for the enemy to arrive at the correct coordinates beyond the Morning Star System. It always made Kirk uneasy when a battle plan depended on an enemy doing what was expected. He knew, now, how the ancient Admiral Yamamoto must have felt prior to the Battle of Midway!

"Right on time, Captain!" said Sulu. The view screen was now cluttered with a mass of silvery dots. Kirk felt a stab of alarm at the number. He looked at Spock. "I need an estimate on the number of enemy ships!"

"There are sixty two ships, Captain!" answered Spock.

"Captain!" said Uhura. "A message to all ships: begin battle plan!"

They waited. On the screen the silver dots of the enemy ships formed themselves into a solid phalanx, then slow advanced toward Karle's Squadron. Sixty two against four, thought Kirk. How much advantage would surprise and superior technology give them?

* * * * *

Admiral Karle watched the enemy advance. Her pulses were racing, all her instincts as a commander yelled for her to scrub the battle plan and get the hell out of there. That, however, was not an option. There were scores of Star Fleet personnel on the surface of the Morning Planet, not to mention the twelve hundred pitiful survivors of the planet's population. There would be no time to evacuate them, and unthinkable to even consider leaving them. Fleetingly she wondered why she hadn't considered evacuating them when she had the chance, but dismissed the thought. She needed to focus her entire attention on what was coming. There was no turning back, no matter what! She turned to Captain Steele. "What was the estimated time of arrival of the Klingons?" she asked in as calm a voice as she could.

There was tension in Steele's face and voice when he answered. "The Klingons are still four hours away, Admiral."

Karle nodded then stabbed the intership transmit button on her chair arm. "To all ships! No change in plans. Good luck and God Speed!"

* * * * *

"Range to enemy?" asked Kirk.

"Twenty five thousand miles!" answered Spock.

The dots continued to advance. The enemy formation was taking the form of an inverted diamond, the corners of their formation curving backward slightly to guard against any attempt to out flank them. Kirk couldn't help admiring the beauty of that mass of silver ships.

"Range is now twenty thousand miles!" reported Spock.

Karle's Squadron and the enemy were closing each other at half impulse. The time was rapidly approaching when the sensor data being fed into the Lexington's main computer would initiate the beginning of the preprogrammed maneuvers of the four ships of the squadron. From that point it was a plan that depended on the enemy's single minded desire to destroy them.

"Range is now seventeen thousand miles!" reported Spock in a calm, almost disinterested voice.

Kirk turned to Uhura. "Lieutenant, can you pick up any radio traffic from the enemy, even among themselves?"

Uhura, listening intently, shook her head. "Nothing, sir!"

That was another factor that Kirk found unsettling. There was never any radio traffic from the alien ships. Either they employed a range of frequencies outside the known spectrum, or they didn't use any form of radio communication at all!

"Range is now twelve thousand miles!" said Spock.

Kirk tensed in spite of himself. This was the moment when they would know if all the carefully laid plans would work out. He already had the orders ready if it was necessary to break away from the computer link and fight independently.

As one the four ships of Karle's Squadron began to retreat.

* * * * *

Admiral Karle was suddenly aware she'd been holding her breath. Her eyes were glued to the forward view screen, her mind doing its best to will the alien ships to perform as they would have to in order for her meticulous, and very dangerous, plan to work. Her ships were retreating, staying just outside the range of the enemy's weapons. The moment of truth was almost upon them.

"Range is eleven thousand miles and holding!" reported the Lexington's science officer.

Come on, come on, you stupid brutes, thought Karle. You don't want anything else but us. Come and get us! With a tingle of apprehension she noticed the star systems beyond the alien ships begin to move as the squadron made a course change that slowly took them AWAY from the Morning Star System. A second later she felt a flood of relief so poignant that she was dizzy. The aliens were following them!

* * * * *

"What's our speed?" asked Kirk.

"One half impulse, sir!" answered Sulu.

"Keep me updated on that, Mr. Sulu! What is our rate of acceleration now?"

"Our rate is two percent of light speed per minute, Captain!" said Sulu.

Kirk did some rapid mental calculations. It would take twenty five minutes to reach light speed at the present rate. That was too slow. The enemy would smell a rat soon!

"Sir," said Sulu, "Our rate of acceleration is now climbing!"

"Very well!" Kirk felt a little easier. His respect for Admiral Karle's sense of tactics went up a notch.

"Sir," said Sulu again, "The enemy is attempting to close the distance between us! Our rate of acceleration is increasing at the same rate. We are at seventy five percent of light speed!"

* * * * *

Not too fast! Not too fast! Admiral Karle's mind was a swirl of calculations and apprehensions. Although the multitronic computers in the Lexington were not the same as the M-5, they were capable of responding to sensor input, within range of their parameters, so that variations in the battle situation could be dealt with. It was another of those many unknowns that plagued Karle's mind: were the computers really capable of what was expected of them? If not, the situation would rapidly become one of the squadron taking on fifteen times their number in an action that would lead, inevitably, to englobment, and destruction by sheer weight of numbers.

* * * * *

"Our speed is now eighty five percent of light, sir!" said Sulu.

Kirk hit the intercom button on his chair arm. Okay, everyone, once again be sure all loose objects are secured and all hands are strapped in! We're in for some G forces we're not used to!" said Kirk. In fact, he knew the Enterprise itself was about to be tested like it had never been before!

"Speed is ninety five percent of light, sir!"

Although he knew it would make no difference, Kirk gripped the arms of his command chair with all his might. A quick look around the bridge confirmed that all hands were strapped and braced for whatever would come. In the screen the enemy was still in full pursuit, their impulse engines at full capacity in their attempt to catch and consume their prey. So intent were they on that goal, it was hoped, that they would give no thought to the possibility they might be the real prey about to fall into a well laid trap!

"Warp one!" yelled Sulu.

Karle's Squadron reached the threshold of light speed and sent to warp one. In that instant the massed enemy ships saw them for the last time. The squadron raced away, but only for the fraction of a second necessary for the Lexington computers to make the billionth of a second calculation and initiate an immediate reversal of their flight path.

Despite the fact that all four ships were equipped with an inertia-dampening system designed to negate the G forces of rapid maneuvers, everyone was thrown with painful force against their restraining straps. The systems were not designed for maneuvers of such a magnitude, but should do a good enough job to keep their flesh and blood occupants alive.

There was a deep groaning sound and Kirk felt a chill run down his spine. The hull of the Enterprise was giving under the strain! The hull integrity field, powered by the same negative matter energy as the warp drive, held the star ship together. Without it the ship would be torn apart, exposing the negative matter of the warp core, and the result would be the birth of a tiny star.

When the squadron arrived back at the point from which they had initially gone to warp drive they were out distancing the light rays that would have revealed them to their enemy. The fact that the alien ships did not have anything but visual sensors made this particular type of battle plan possible. In fact, it was the sensor systems employed on the squadron's ships, tied into the main computer matrix and weapons consoles, that pinpointed targets; target information was deciphered in microseconds and the weapons fired. The rate of fire was far beyond even the most efficient crew. Computers have no need to wait for images to form, senses to react, or for muscles to respond. From detection to target destruction was so rapid that it was all but instantaneous.

Kirk tried to make some sense of what was happening by watching the view screen, but the images were nothing but a blaze of energy smears, flashes, and glimpses of red and blue streaks. He and all the sentient beings present, on both sides, were either helpless victims or dazzled victors, blind, deaf and dumb! The phasers and photon torpedoes of the Enterprise fired so rapidly there was no detectable pause during the time the computers were using the weapons systems. The entire action took less than ten seconds.

Everything slowly began to return to normal. The bridge consoles, which had been kaleidoscopic displays of flashing lights during the action, darkened as banks of lights winked out; data scanners no longer displayed unreadable blurs as graphics sailed across them too rapidly to be read; the crew were free to do something other than hold on and pray!

"Status report!" ordered Kirk on the all-systems channel of the ship's intercom, then he turned to ask Spock a question, but never got the chance.

"Captain!" said Spock suddenly, "More warp signatures coming at us from astern! Also the tracks of nuclear missiles!"

"Sulu, spin us around!" yelled Kirk. "Spock, lock phasers on sensor input and computer control!" He knew they were way ahead of him, they were veterans. Fingers flew over consoles, the Enterprise came around with weapons hot and ready.

In the forward view screen Kirk saw a new formation of silver ships approaching them. Between the squadron and the enemy were the multitudes of bright specks of incoming missiles.

"Phasers locked on computer control, Captain!" said Spock.

The phasers fired in rapid succession, red streaks flicking ahead of the star ship. At the end of each streak there blossomed white balls of fire as the warheads of the missiles detonated. The detonations multiplied, swelling into colossal clouds at which the eye could not look directly.

"Chekhov!" ordered Kirk. "Shields at maximum power!" He could see there were far too many missiles for the phasers to counter in time, even with the help of the Exeter and the Lexington. Only the crew's quick response had given them a chance to stop some of them.

Then everything happened at once. The forward view screen flared into glaring white radiace, then went black. At the same instant the Enterprise was rocked by a titanic concussion. Klaxons blared, consoles flashed with warning lights. Kirk could hear screams, then the lights went out. In the tumult Kirk tried to keep order. "Engineering, we need emergency lighting now! Fire control, hook-"

A second concussion, far worse than the first, shook the star ship to its core. Kirk, thrown violently against his safety straps, felt pain sear down his left side. Something crashed with terrific force into the back of his command chair, warm liquid splattered across the back of his neck. White electrical arcs pierced the darkness along with the red glare from the flames of console fires. Kirk tried to push himself upright in his chair but the pain in his side was excruciating. He could smell the acrid odor of fire retardant. From somewhere in the darkness he heard Spock yell an order but he couldn't make out the words.

Ignoring the pain, Kirk heaved against the arms of the command chair to force himself into an upright position. It was then he realized the chair itself was bent at an angle. In the dim light of the emergency lamps he could see another chair jammed against his own with someone still strapped into it. It was Uhura! "Spock", he yelled, "Get some medical help up here at the double! What about power to weapons and screens?"

Spock appeared beside him, undid the straps and hauled him to his feet. Kirk felt something catch in his side and the pain almost made him faint. "We are on auxiliary power, Captain," reported Spock. "I am unable to restore fire control or defensive systems at this time. Medical help is on the way, but the turbolifts are not operational so it will take them a while to get here!"

Kirk shook his head, trying to clear it. He could hardly breathe from what he was convinced were a number of broken ribs on his left side. "What hit us?" he asked, not knowing what else to say.

"Unknown, Captain. There is a high probability it may have been several of their missiles striking our shields in rapid succession. At the moment the Enterprise is a helpless hulk drifting in space!"

Wiping at the liquid that clung to the back of his neck, Kirk discovered it was blood. It was not his own, however. He looked down at Uhura and a sick feeling swelled in his stomach. The Lieutenant's skull had been cracked wide open by impact with the command chair.

* * * * *

Admiral Karle, by sheer effort of will, kept her mouth shut. It was Captain Steele's ship and his responsibility to fight the Lexington as he saw fit. But it was hard! Damn it was hard to just sit and watch! When the attack from the rear came, the Lexington swung to face its tormentors just like the other ships of the squadron, but was immediately obvious the Enterprise had swung first. The momentum of its swing brought it forward, away from the other ships. Because of that, Kirk's ship caught the brunt of the attack.

"Dammit! Fire control, keep those bastards off the Enterprise! Full power to phasers!" ordered Steele, his eyes glued to the scene unfolding in his view screen. They could see the Enterprise drifting helpless and defenseless. Only minute power emissions were detected from the crippled starship, and the Lexington had been unsuccessful in repeated attempts to establish radio contact.

Karle felt sick inside at the thought of what must have happened in the Enterprise when those missiles detonated simultaneously against her screens.

"Admiral, the Exeter reports they are partially damaged and cannot maintain their rate of fire! Screens are down forty percent and they're almost out of photon torpedoes!" The Lexington's communications officer reported.

"Order Exeter to maintain the present rate of fire for as long as possible!" growled Karle. They had to give Kirk time! A sudden thought made her turn to Steele. "Anything from the K'Reth?"

"Not so far."

The forward view screen showed a mix of red streaks and the white blossoms of nuclear fire balls. Somewhere beyond the seemingly endless flow of missiles the enemy ships remained untouched. All phasers and torpedoes were needed to try to stem the tide of the missiles, and to continue to protect the Enterprise.

The Lexington was suddenly shaken as a missile hit and detonated against her forward defensive screen. The concussion threw three crew members off their feet. Reports came in of damage throughout the ship.

"God, how long can they keep up their rate of fire?" Karle had never seen such a sustained fusillade. The aliens had to run low on missiles before long!

"I don't know," answered Steele, "but something's gotta break before long or we're done for!" He glanced anxiously at Karle. "Admiral, our own screens are down thirty five percent, even with auxliliary power, and we can't maintain our rate of fire any longer than the Exeter! We're being overwhelmed by sheer numbers!

The screens flashed white again as another missile hit. Concussion shook the Lexington and red lights glared balefully across the science console. "Captain, our left forward screen is gone! Minor damage is reported in sections four and five of deck seven!" reported the science officer.

"Mr. Long, yaw left!" ordered Steele of the helm officer. The Lexington turned slightly, keeping the screenless section of the ship away from the enemy. The move protected the ship but took the left photon torpedo launchers further away from the stream of missiles, diminishing the Lexington's ability to destroy the incoming missiles.

Karle couldn't tear her eyes from the view screen. The enemy ships were closer now, the barrier of phaser and torpedo fire unable to keep them at bay. In spite of the seriousness of the situation she was able to marvel at the way those ships kept spitting out missiles at such a rate. Her commander's mind told her it would only be a few short minutes before the Lexington, and probably the other ships of the squadron, would disappear in fury of nuclear explosions. Then the aliens would be free to move in to the Planet of Morning, to catch the science vessel and hospital ship, and all the personnel on the surface of the planet, virtually defenseless. It was a possibility she could not allow!

She turned to Steele. "Have your science officer compute a timed warp acceleration to take us into the center of that formation of enemy ships! Set the ship's auto-destruct for the exact instant that we come out of warp!" She saw the shock in Steele's eyes, but went on: "Relay those orders to the Exeter and have her tie the sequence through the Lexington's computers so we arrive simultaneously!" It was time to play her last card, and to condemn eighteen hundred crew members to instant annihilation.

Steele was stunned, unable to move a muscle as he stared back at Admiral Karle. For an instant he thought the Admiral had cracked, lost her mind, gone bonkers! The logic of her plan soon became obvious to him despite his shock. Both star ships auto-destructing in the center of the alien ships would utterly destroy them and everything else for a radius of at least a thousand miles.

Karle noticed Steele's hesitation. She leaned forward and gripped his arm. "There's no time! Do it!"

Steel shook himself out of his muscle lock and was in the act of turning to give the necessary orders when the Lexington's science officer beat him to the punch. "Captain, something's happening!"

They all gaped at the forward view screen. The coordination of the enemy attack was falling apart, some of the silver ships beginning to move away from the squadron! Suddenly, blue disruptor fire cut into the milling ships to be followed by a swarm of photon torpedoes. The enemy, so intent on moving in to finish off Karle's Squadron, did not think to guard their backs.

The Klingons had arrived early!

Karle came awake. "Dammit, let's help the Klingons!"

Steele fired orders. Lexington came around and accelerated toward the enemy, her phasers and torpedoes finally being used to destroy enemy ships. The Exeter and K'Reth were not far behind.

The coordination of the enemy ships had disappeared. They milled in confusion, each ship trying to find a way out of what had suddenly become a trap. The sudden arrival of the Klingons had completely destroyed whatever battle plan the enemy had, and it seemed they had no way of responding to the instant turn of events. It was a factor that Karle put away in her mind for later consideration!

Caught in a hell's cauldron of criss-crossing phaser and disruptor beams, in the flash and glare of anti-matter torpedoes, the enemy formation began dissolving into an ever increasing mushroom of firey destruction. As each ship exploded from the contact of either beams or torpedoes they added to the increasing maelstrom until the cloud of fire became almost a living monster that consumed them all.

The image on the Lexington's forward view screen changed to a swirl of interference, then coalesced into the form of a Klingon. The bony, bestial face grinned at them. "Greetings! I am Senior Commander Khurik, commander of the Balarian Battle Base. We are only too glad to arrive in time to assist you!"

Chapter 62

James Kirk slid off the exam table and slowly, painfully, pulled his uniform tunic over his head.

Dr. McCoy handed him a small bottle of blue pills. "Take one of these as you need them for the pain, Jim. You should be fit as a fiddle in a couple of weeks."

"Can't you wrap the ribs with something to keep them from moving around?" asked Kirk with a grimmace.

McCoy grinned. "They feel like they're moving around but they're not. In any case, the answer is no. The regeneration treatment I gave you will speed up the healing process, but beyond that and something for the pain there hasn't been much improvement in the treatment of broken ribs in the past couple of centuries."

Kirk nodded, then asked, "How about Uhura?"

McCoy's grin faded. "She's in critical condition. I'm having her transferred to the Ontario where they can take better care of her in their intensive care unit."

"Any change in the other patients?" asked Kirk. There were twenty injuries other than Uhura's that were serious enough to require hospitalization, a much lower total than anyone could have hoped for.

"No, but nobody's in any danger either. Ensign Harris is the most serious, but he'll be up and around in a few days. All in all I'd say we were damned lucky, Jim!"

The communicator on the wall beeped and Kirk hit the reply button. "Kirk here."

"Captain," said Spock, "Mr. Scott is ready to bring the main engines back on line!"

"Very well, I'm on my way." He gave McCoy a pat on the shoulder. "Good work, Bones!"

McCoy smiled blandly. "Sure, Jim."

Admiral Karle was at work on her reports when the communicator on her com set buzzed for attention. Irritably she slapped the reply button. "Yes, what is it?"

A contrite voice answered, "Sorry Admiral, I have a priority message from the fleet commander!"

Karle sighed, rubbing her eyes. "Okay, put it through." Idly she wondered if there was any other kind of message!

The com screen lit with Nogura's familiar, cigar puffing, image. The Fleet Admiral's face looked troubled. "Karle, I won't mince words with you, this Grimes Electronics thing has gone way too far. Admiral Parks was just bringing me up to date on your singular lack of cooperation. I know you have your problems out there, but the M-5 modifications have been delayed long enough. Now, we've been trying to get a power of attorney from this Dennis Grimes with a total lack of success. No longer! We want, and we will have, Mr. Grimes himself on the next available ship! I don't care if you have to use one of your star ships to bring him. That is an order!"

For a full minute after Nogura's scowling countenance faded from the screen Karle sat staring at the blank monitor. She had thought this whole business of the power of attorney had been taken care of. She yawned until her jaw hinges creaked, then punched up the com station on the bridge. "Get me the Enterprise! I want a word with Captain Kirk!" She looked at her watch to see the time was a little after three o'clock in the morning, ship's time. Well, dammit, if she couldn't get any sleep nobody else would either!

* * * * *

Six hours later Karle sat in a meeting aboard the Lexington where the entire battle with the enemy ships was gone over with a fine toothed comb. Every facet of the engagement from the first moment when the enemy appeared out of warp drive until the last one was destroyed was examined. When everything had been considered and discussed by the assembled ship commanders, including the Klingons, Admiral Karle voiced her final opinion. "I think it's nothing short of a miracle that we're sitting here talking about all this. In spite of all our planning we failed to consider there might be a second flotilla of enemy ships and were completely unprepared for them. If the Klingons hadn't arrived in so timely a fashion it would have been us who got blown to hell and not the enemy!"

Senior Commander Khurik shook his head and leaned toward Karle. "Hind sight is always 20-20 as you Humans are so fond of saying. The fact is that we did arrive and the victory was total. Discussing might-have-beens is a waste of time!"

"I couldn't disagree more." said Karle emphatically. "We won because your arrival distracted their amazing concentration of fire! If we can't find some way to counter that flood of missiles they seem to be able to maintain we'll never be able to use our weapons against their ships." She took a moment and nodded to Khurik. "Anyway, your arrival saved us and you have my thanks."

Across the table Kirk's eyes widened with surprise. Knowing how Karle felt about Klingons it amazed him that she could say anything complimentary about them without choking over the words! His musings were interrupted by a direct question from Karle: "What is the condition of your ship, Captain Kirk?"

As Kirk started to explain he was interrupted by Captain Steele. "Wait just a minute, Admiral. That's not the end of your report, is it?"

Karle nodded, "It is."

"But, what about the general plan itself? I mean, that maneuver into warp and the immediate return to catch the enemy totally by surprise was...well, brilliant. I think Star Fleet has a right to know about it."

Kirk couldn't have agreed more, but it was plain that Karle did not share their sentiments. The admiral shook her head emphatically. "No. There will be nothing in the reports about any maneuvers." She looked around the table and her expression was enough to silence any further comment. "And I expect each of you to honor my wishes in this matter."

There was a moment of silence, then Steele said, "As you wish, Admiral. However, I feel that that maneuver should be taught at the academy."

Karle nodded. "It will, but without reference to me. It will be remembered for the man who actually thought it up more than fifteen years ago, and whose permission I sought to use it in our battle: Captain Garth of Izar."

In the stunned silence that followed, Spock asked, "Is the Captain still at Elbe II?"

"Yes," said Karle, "and recovering satisfactorily from his breakdown. The word from the attending physicians is that he might be ready to be released by Christmas." She smiled for a moment, her face downcast and a far away look in her eyes. Then she was all business again and turned back to Kirk. "Alright, now, about the Enterprise?"

Kirk reported concerning the repairs that Scotty had completed. Other damage reports were given. Exeter had extensive damage to one nacelle, and two of her forward screen generators were burned out. Lexington had a weakened Hull Integrity Field. All ships had their fair share of crew injuries, but no fatalities were reported. Repairs to all ships were well under way.

Kirk reluctantly reported, "I've made arrangements for Lieutenant Grimes to return to Earth on the regular medical shuttle run, but not before he completes his reconstruction work on the memory banks of the computers we found on the Morning Planet. That information is vital to our research into what actually happened there, and our efforts to locate where these aliens came from."

"Yes, I agree," said Karle. "I'll inform Star Fleet that Grimes will be on his way as soon as his work is completed."

Across the table Kang rubbed his hands together, a look of pure delight on his face. "We fought a good fight. I am afraid there won't be much left to oppose us when we finally attack these aliens in their home system. They are able warriors, but use their resources recklessly."

"Don't be so sure," replied Captain Steele. "If they can send over a hundred ships on a moment's notice it makes me wonder just how vast their resources may be. Also, those ships of theirs cans pit out missiles like nothing I've ever heard of. All we need, now, is for them to start putting negative matter warheads of those missiles and we'll get our butts kicked."

The meeting ended after six hours of discussion and debate. The only final conclusion was the decision to investigate further the planet that Kang attacked without warning. As they were dismissing, Karle touched Kirk on the shoulder. "Captain, how soon do you think we'll have any definitive data on the origins of these aliens?"

Kirk shrugged. "Unknown, Admiral. A team led by Commander Satariano is working night and day on a study of relevant historical records, but just when they'll run across anything relevant is anyone's guess."

Karle sighed, her face etched with fatigue. "Well, let's hope they find something before we pick fights with every life form between here and Andromeda."

* * * * *

Father Nicholas Satariano stood next to a tree in what was once a small garden attached to one of the ziggurats that were present in every city, town, and hamlet on the Planet of Morning. The garden, which he supposed had once been a getaway place for the priests who once lived in this place of worship, was a riot of nature run amok. Untended vines, creepers, and multitudes of plants that once turned this place into an Eden of beauty were now tangled, choked, most of the color and life gone. A ten foot high stone fence surrounded the garden.

He looked up into the branches of the tree. It had bark similar to that of the Aspen tree on Earth. Elegant diamond shaped leaves sprouted from each limb, providing a thick canopy of protection from the afternoon sun. The tree, unlike the rest of the vegetation in the garden, seemed unaffected by neglect and radiation.

There had been a carpet of grass here, with little stone walkways that led through the garden. He could see the remains of wooden planters along the walks, and in one corner stood a small stone bench against the outer wall.

Star Fleet engineers were arriving in ever greater numbers, and they worked surprisingly fast. The pressurized dome over the polar shelter was already nearing completion, and work had begun on another dome to cover the entire town, of which this particular ziggurat was a part. A temporary plastic enclosure covered the ziggurat so Satariano and his staff could work on the historical data without the encumbrance of environment suits.

Air regenerators had cleared the dome of radiation polluted gasses in less than a day. Hidden circulation systems kept the air fresh and clean. The priest shook his head in wonder. Not two days before he would have died of radiation poisoning where he now stood.

Environmental engineers were already working on the unbelievably huge task of clearing away the remains of the millions of dead. Already the survivors in their polar shelter were being prepared for transportation to the town selected by Star Fleet, where they would live until decisions and arrangements could be made for them to be taken somewhere permanent.

Satariano sat down on the stone bench next to the outer wall of the garden. He'd come out into the garden in order to make final in his mind a decision concerning his future. He smiled to himself as he realized that the decision had already been made. His walk through this garden of the past had been his confirmation.

* * * * *

Twenty miles from the garden where Satariano considered his personal destiny, Dennis Grimes sat at a small desk buried in the immensity of the planet's largest known computer center. The desk stood amid a cluster of quietly whirring and chattering printing units that were putting out a seemingly endless stream of white paper covered with precise cuneiform characters.

Dennis Grimes was considering his personal destiny as well.

The whole thing was quite humorous, if you thought about it. He'd gone into Star Fleet to escape from all that his father had left him. Now that very act of escape was taking him back into the thick of it. He chuckled. The situation would be maddening if he hadn't already decided how to make the best of it.

A series of beeps interrupted his mental musings. He shook himself awake and glanced at the printers. Two had stopped, a third and fourth were still running. He had volunteered to install translators so the printing would be in English, but Commander Satariano wanted the data printed in the planet's native tongue so the residents could read it if they wished to. There were tapes, of course, recording all of the data for transmission to the archives of Star Fleet, where they would be stored in the vast memory banks of the Federation. Satariano was rather eccentric, but Grimes liked working with the priest. That was good. If everything went the way Grimes had it planned, he and Satariano would be working closely in the years to come.

All the printer chatter ceased with the pealing of a series of additional beeps. Green lights blinked at him from the tops of all four printers. The historical data that the top brass wanted was now compiled. Stacking the sheets neatly, Grimes flipped open his communicator. It would have been more convenient if the chaplain and his staff had been doing their analysis right here in the computer center, but Satariano, being a full Commander, had to have his comforts. "Grimes to Commander Satariano."

It took a moment, but Satariano answered in his usual cheery voice. "Yes, what is it?"

"Commander, the data is all printed out. I'm standing by to beam up to the Enterprise. You coming?"

"You go ahead, Mr. Grimes. I'll be along in a while."

"Don't be too long, sir," said Grimes. "The admiral is waiting."

Satariano didn't answer.