

   Star Trek: "Before Destruction!"*  -  An Original Novel By Michael Rossi

       (Please Read the File "README.TXT" before you begin this story.)



                                  Author's Note:

           The following story takes place immediately after the
      'Vintage' Trek episode entitled "Requiem for Methuselah".  It
      also ties into the entire Trek world, thankfully created by
      the late Gene Roddenberry.  Specific episodes that are referenced
      prominently are: "Requiem for Methuselah", "Whom Gods Destroy",
      "Day *f the Dove" and "Errand of Mercy".  As with all works in the
      Trek universe, this one takes a few liberties... but only a few, and
      maintains the "Character" and "Spirit" that has made Trek my favorite
      world of imagination.  Although this story relies on past episodes,
      it is independent of any other "S.T. Novel" or the contents therein.

           I would like to take this time to thank the writer's of the
      aforementioned episodes, and all the others who have contributed to
      the world of Trek in a positive way.  Specifically I wish to thank
      them for showing me that, although fictional, it reflects hope, truth,
      loyalty, justice, honor, faith, and love.  Trek authors have boldly gone
      where others have feared to tread.  Tackling delicate issues of morality
      and justice unflinchingly, from the very beginning.  Episodic topics
      have ranged from the "Cold War" to the "Bible" and have always spoken to
      current issues with an underlying sense of the "right" and "wrong" of
      them, or the "good" and "evil".  I attribute the success of the series
      not merely to the actors and crew, but to these writers who envisioned
      a hopeful future, but never left the wisdom of the past.


              Thank you.


              Mike


--------------------------------------MORE--------------------------------------



                                    And Now:




                           Star Trek: "Before Destruction"*







             *Star Trek is a Registered Trademark of Paramount Pictures
                          Copyright 1991 by Michael Rossi
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------









                             ***    PROLOGUE    ***


              Captain James Tiberius Kirk, of the Starship Enterprise,
         yielded finally to the merciful, if often elusive, hand of sleep.
         Dr. Lenard McCoy had helped him on his way.  His cabin was darkened
         as he sat behind his desk with his head down atop folded arms.
         The sleeves of his gold and black Captain's uniform were still
         moist from the tears he was unable to hold back any longer.  Though
         asleep, he was neither at rest nor at peace.  Phantasms of his
         tormented heart were there to greet him as he entered the place of
         his dreams.

              Behind him, like a chiselled monolithic sentinel, stood the
         Vulcanian Science Officer, Spock.  He looked upon his Captain,
         moved with a compassion he had never experienced before.  Not
         expressed on his face, nor seen in the fathomless depths of his
         eyes, the emotion drove him, forcing him to a decision.  His
         logical mind did what it could to prevent him from acting, but the
         force from his half-human heart was irresistible.  The pain of his
         Captain was now inexplicably yet undeniably his own.  And then the
         decision was made.

              Spock, the man, moved towards his Captain, and gently placed
         his fingers upon the troubled brow of his friend.  He closed his
         own eyes and concentrated.  "Forget," he spoke to the heart of his
         Captain, "Forget..."


                                  *         *         *


              "They will be coming..." the voice spoke out prophetically.

              "How many?" came a second voice with a strange sadness in it.

              "Two ships, one from either side.  But only one of their
         'landing parties' will descend," answered the first voice.

              "Should we prevent them from approaching?" came a third voice.

              "No," said the second, "It must be."

              "They are fearful.  They believe we have answers to their
         fear," said the first.

              "Perhaps they are correct but they may not wish to hear
         what we have to say.  For they have heard the truth from the
         beginning, and are still willingly ignorant of it.  The pride of
         their vain imagination, their love of 'self', these are points of
         their blindness.  Nevertheless, we are merely messengers of the
         truth, not creators of it...  Let them come," spoke the second
         voice.

         "Let them come," agreed the third voice.

         "They shall come..." prophesied the first.

                                       PAGE A







                                 ***  ONE  ***



                   Captain's personal log, Stardate: 5845.9.
              "It has been mere hours since we have left orbit around
         Holberg 917g, yet my memory of it seems to fade with our increasing
         distance.  Holberg, was not on our intended agenda but a necessary
         break from our course, for on its surface in crude form was the
         vital mineral "Ryetalyn" which when refined was the main ingredient
         for a cure to Rigellian Fever.  A landing party from the Enterprise
         had contracted Rigellian Fever weeks ago and the virus had swept
         the crew, which made our need one of desperation.  Upon arrival at
         the out-of-the way planet, Myself, First Officer Spock and Dr.
         Leonard McCoy found the dwelling of a most amazing man."

              "We found that the man, Flint, living in isolation from the
         rest of the universe, had no record of ever existing on file in any
         Starfleet or Federation memory banks.  That is, under the name of
         Flint.  However, our observations of his personal possessions..."

              Captain James T. Kirk sat upright in his chair.  To his
         astonishment, he could not recall any of his previous observations
         of Flint's personal possessions.  In fact, he was losing most of the
         thoughts that he was sure he had only moments ago concerning the
         man.  He remembered the floating M-4 robot that gathered the
         Ryetalyn.  He remembered the end result; his crew whole again.  But
         there was much missing... and something painful.  Something that
         could burst his heart, were he able to recollect what that
         'something' was.

              "Captain Kirk, this is Lieutenant Uhura, please respond." The
         communications speaker broke the dark silence of his cabin and
         snapped Kirk's head up.  The Captain blinked twice, hard, to arouse
         himself out of his trance-like state of thought.  He reached for
         the comm button and winced at a small pain in his side.

              "Kirk here; what is it, Lieutenant?"

              "I have picked up a weak distress signal, Sir.  I
         couldn't make out anything vocally but they used the emergency
         frequency with a pulse wave."

              "Were you able to pin-point its origin?"

              "It came from quadrant eight seventy-one, Captain.  No
         specific location as of yet, but I'm trying to narrow it down."
         Her voice was steady, yet expressed her concern.

              "Eight seventy-one?  Then it hasn't reached Starbase Sixteen
         yet?"  He understood her concern.  It was very likely that they
         were the only ones who had heard the distress signal.

              "No Sir.  If it makes it there at all, it won't be for another
         two hours.  It is very weak, Captain."


                                       PAGE 1








              "Two point one three hours, Captain," Spock added, obviously
         standing close to Uhura.

              "Thank you Mr. Spock.  Lieutenant Uhura, contact Starfleet
         concerning the signal.  Inform them that we are going in to locate
         its origin." Kirk switched off his log recorder.  "Mister Sulu?"

              "Yes, Sir!" The deep voice spoke confidently.

              "Set course for quadrant eight seventy-one, warp seven."

              "Aye aye, Sir," replied Sulu.

              Captain Kirk changed the comm channel to the intra-ship
         setting.  "This is Captain Kirk, all hands Yellow Alert, repeat,
         Yellow Alert!"


                                *         *         *



              Captain Kirk strode onto the bridge of the Starship
         Enterprise.  Glancing across the spacious cabin, he noted all were
         at their stations doing what he knew, was their best.  "What do we
         have in quadrant eight seventy-one, Mr. Spock?"

              The tall and lean Science Officer turned towards his Captain
         placing his arms behind his back in a "parade rest" fashion.  His
         shiny black hair gleamed in the luminescence of the overhead
         lighting.  Some time ago, he could state exactly when, Spock had
         committed to memory all Starbases and Federation outposts in all
         quadrants.  "Science Station Copernicus, Elba II, six abandoned
         Dilithium mines, and the Golon Star System, Captain," he stated.
         "It is, however, heavily traversed by Federation cargo barges and
         privately owned freighters," he added in a formal, even tone.

              "Keptin, it is only vun sector avay from the Klingon Neutral
         Zone.  Close enough to make a tribble squeal," said Ensign Checkov
         with a suppressed smile on his face.  Sulu, his companion at the
         helm, didn't bother to suppress his.

              "So noted Mister Checkov.  Uhura, try to make contact with
         Copernicus and Elba II."

         Kirk took the center seat, symbol of both a Captain's power and
         authority.  He stared at the main view screen watching the stars
         unfold.  He leaned forward and rested his right elbow on the arm
         of his chair, placing his chin in the palm of his hand.  The bright
         starscape before him was breathtaking, but even so, his mind began
         to drift back to the Holberg expedition.  'Something painful?'  He
         went over the events again in his mind; Rigellian fever, Holberg
         917g, Ryetalyn, the M-4 robot, Flint, bruised ribs.  'Bruised
         ribs?' Jim Kirk put his hand to his side.  He could feel the Flexi-
         truss under his shirt, and realized he did indeed have bruised ribs,
         but try as he might, he could not recall a single detail about how
         they came to be that way.

                                       PAGE 2







              "Captain," Uhura spoke softly.

              Jim snapped his head up, realizing he was brooding in front of
         his crew.  'They all get paranoid when I brood.' He thought to
         himself, and spoke, "Yes, Lieutenant?"

              "Science Station Copernicus confirms their reception of the
         distress signal."

              "Did they locate the source?" He swiveled his chair to face
         the beautiful, dark skinned communications officer.

              "It's coming through now, Sir."  She placed her hand to her
         ear to block out the various sounds emanating from the bridge.

              "There seems to be some kind of interference, Sir.  I can't make
         out their message.  Possibly they are experiencing a solar flare or
         something releasing a large amount of energy in their quad."

              "Mister Spock?" He turned to his First Officer.

              "Analyzing, Captain." The Vulcan bent over his science
         station's instrument panel.  "Unsure, Captain.  As the Lieutenant
         pointed out, there is a vast dispersal of energy between Copernicus
         and our present course heading.  However, from the effect it is
         having on the subspace channel, I would hypothesize that it is an
         unnatural event."

              "I have it now, Sir," Uhura said. "Copernicus reports they
         have identified the source code of the distress call.  It came from
         a space-vessel named the 'Fringe Ranger', in the immediate vicinity
         of Elba II."

              "The Fringe Ranger?  Spock, search the records and let me
         know what information you can find on it." Kirk returned his chair
         to its foreword position. "Alter course for Elba II, Mister Sulu."

              "Aye, Sir."

              The turbo-lift opened with a 'swoosh'.  Dr. McCoy in his
         blue medical uniform, stepped out silently.  He looked down to the
         man in the center seat.  McCoy had been and continued to be
         concerned with Jim's emotional state.  Deep depression in anyone
         can hinder judgement and cause abnormal actions and reactions.  In
         a Starship Captain, the consequences escalate exponentially.  In
         worst cases, it could jeopardize the safety of the crew.  But it
         was Jim Kirk, his friend, whom he worried about.  "Sickbay is
         ready, Jim." The Doctor rested on the upperdeck's arm-rail.  "How
         soon till we know any more?"

              "Soon.  We are on course for Elba II, Doctor.  I trust you are
         equally prepared to minister to their specific needs as well?"
         Elba II had been the only mental institution in the Federation for
         the criminally insane for nine years.

              "I'm prepared for every contingency.  Which reminds me, I have

                                       PAGE 3








         a special prescription prepared for you in my cabin when you can
         find the time."

              "One of your '100 Proof' remedies?" Jim said, hoping it wasn't
         a sneaky ploy to get him close enough to sickbay to give him a
         physical.  "I'll have to pass until this is taken care of, Bones."

              Spock turned from his station's computer console, "Captain,
         the Fringe Ranger is a decommissioned Yeager-Class cruiser with a
         complement of thirty-seven officers and crew, now carrying supplies
         to frontier colonies and Starfleet outposts.  It was apparently
         enroute to Elba II.  I have also analyzed her distress signal
         with interesting results." Kirk nodded for him to continue.  "The
         signal appears to have been sent prior to the phenomena causing the
         subspace disturbance, and I estimate a 97.43 probability that it was
         being jammed from close proximity."

              "Jammed?"  Kirk rose from his chair and moved to the science
         station.  He observed the readings indicating that it was so.  The
         flattened waves and distorted peaks of the line image looked very
         much like a jammed signal.

              "Who would jam a distress call in Federation space?" the
         doctor asked no-one in particular.

              "As Mr. Checkov pointed out earlier, we are not far from the
         Klingon Neutral Zone, and pirates have been known to be operative
         in this sector.  Mr. Sulu, precautionary Red Alert.  Mr. Checkov,
         Screens up, charge phasers," the Captain ordered.

              The alert claxon sounded, causing the crew's adrenal glands to
         surge in preparation for the emergency tasks they so often were
         required to perform. Ignorance was the greatest cause of fear among
         the battle-ready members. Not knowing the situation causing the
         alert allowed their minds to race in all directions. The Captain
         had been on the other end of command, and understood his crew's need
         for information.

              "Kill the claxon, Mr. Sulu." Jim returned to his chair,
         standing next to it, and again pressed the intra-ship comm.  "This
         is the Captain speaking.  We are on a rescue mission, but have
         cause to believe there may be enemy involvement.  It may be a false
         alarm, but stay sharp. Kirk out."

              The sensor panel by Spock crackled with electricity then
         exploded, to the surprise of everyone.  Before Spock could ascertain
         the reason for this, the Enterprise was hit hard by some powerful
         but unseen force. The ship rocked and vibrated, pitching those
         standing to the floor and causing several more overloads on the
         sensor panel.  Sparks flew and smoke billowed from the unit's side
         vents.

              "Mr Spock, what hit us?" Kirk asked, regaining his footing.
         Another jolt, less in severity, hit the ship.

              Spock, also gathering himself up from the deck replied, "A

                                       PAGE 4








         concussion-energy wave of some magnitude.  Sensor feedback shorted
         out any early warning we might have received,"

              "Lieutenant Uhura?" The Captain did not have to make a
         complete request of the communications officer.  The closeness of
         the bridge officers occasionally circumvented any need of formal
         query in events such as this.

              "Damage to shields 3 and 4, long and short range sensors are
         out, minor structural damage below C deck.  Engineering reports,"
         her report was interrupted by a voice over the bridge speaker.

              "Capt'n, we got a problem with the main energizers. How long
         are ya gonna keep ma engines goin at full tilt?" said the
         definitively Scottish voice of the Chief Engineer.

              "We will be going sublight in a matter of minutes, Mr. Scott.
         Keep us on line until then, please."

              "I'll try Sir, but the intermix reactor to me port nacelle
         just went into the yellow.  I wouldn'a like you to have to jettison
         the whole unit."

              The doctor slipped off the bridge into the turbolift.  No
         matter how little damage there was, you could count on 5 or 6
         patients appearing in Sickbay with bloody noses and minor
         abrasions.  With blood dripping from his left nostril, the doctor
         wanted to get in line before the "Coagul-aid" was used up.

              "Coming up on the Petroski solar system and Elba II, Captain,"
         reported Sulu.

              "Slow to one quarter impulse power, with Mr. Scott's
         permission," Jim Kirk said, looking up at the bridge speaker.

              "Aye Sir, Scott out."

              "Slowing, Sir."

              "Keptin, we are peeking up debris on collision sensors.
         They appear to be asteroids directly in front of us vair there
         should be none," said Checkov.

              "Increase forward viewer magnification to 40.  How are
         the shields holding Mr. Checkov?"

              "Shields at 78 percent, Sir."

              The stars were shining brightly in the distance, but in
         front of them, increasingly blotting out the pinpoints of light,
         were dark spinning rocks growing in size as the Enterprise neared
         them.

              "How much longer before we have short range sensors back?" the
         Captain directed toward Uhura.


                                       PAGE 5








              "Tech crew says we may have short range back in 10 minutes.
         They haven't given me an estimate on the long range sensors as of
         yet, Sir."

              The Captain nodded in acknowledgement, "Mr. Sulu, all
         stop."

              With steady hands on the instruments, "Slowing," Sulu stated.
         "All stop, Sir," he reported. "Thrusters at station-keeping."

              Spock observed the forward view screen with arms folded across
         his chest.  "Captain, the asteroids still appear to be advancing in
         our direction rapidly."  Kirk examined the distant rocks on the
         screen as Spock continued.  "By their angle of trajectory and
         dispersal, I would estimate they originated from some central point
         ahead of our present course.  Possibly from the event point of the
         energy dispersal that has been disturbing our communications."

              "They are getting closer, aren't they." He took a deep breath
         and slowly exhaled noisily, as if he was about to do something
         that he wished he didn't have to. "Mr. Sulu, do you recall what
         regulations state about a Starship entering a field of asteroids?"

              The Oriental officer looked at his comrade sitting next to
         him, and answered in an uncertain voice. "Uh, I believe section
         139, paragraph 62 or 63 states 'Stay the heck away from them
         unless it's an emergency'.  Paraphrased, Sir."

              "Are you willing to make the attempt?" Kirk asked him.

              A wry smile appeared on the adventurous Lieutenant's face,
         still looking at Checkov, who gave him an uncomfortable nod. "I
         think so, Captain"

              "In that case, shields double front Mr. Checkov.  Arm Photon
         torpedoes, we may need to blast our way through a few of them.  Do
         not wait for my command to fire.  That may take too long." He
         pressed the intra-ship communication switch.  "This is the Captain;
         prepare for rough maneuvers.  We will be piloting through a
         hazardous area so take all precautions accordingly.  Captain out."
         Then to the lieutenant with whom he now entrusted his ship, "Take
         us through, Mr. Sulu, and try to save the paint job."

              "Aye, Sir, accelerating to point zero-four sub-light."

              The sleek giant of a Starship moved closer toward the oncoming
         space debris.  The first tiny particles hit the shields, making
         sparks visible on the main viewer.  Although the vacuum of space
         made it impossible, the bridge crew could almost hear the micro
         asteroids hiss, as they came in contact with the ship's protective
         energy barrier.

              The larger asteroids were now approaching.  The collision
         alarm blasted through the silence on the bridge, then ceased as the
         Captain signaled its termination.  The Enterprise suddenly pitched


                                       PAGE 6








         starboard then to port as Sulu deftly navigated her through the
         deadly floating rocks.  The crew was being pulled side to side,
         as the artificial gravity strained to adjust to the inertial force
         changes.  Then their motion changed to up and down as the ship
         narrowly missed a large one cutting across her bow.  It was as
         if they were on some mad man's ride in an amusement park, but
         amusement was not what the crew was experiencing.  Without warning,
         spiraling in from the side, came a jagged asteroid that Sulu
         couldn't move around in time.  Almost immediately upon seeing it,
         it exploded.  It was destroyed by a torpedo that shot away from
         the ship like a fiery dart to obliterate the cold rock.  And still
         the asteroids came.

              Dodging the larger ones was becoming easier, but the smaller
         ones could neither be avoided, nor targeted in time.  They hit the
         ship in a unmerciful barrage, jolting and shaking the vessel until
         she felt as if she was going to come apart.  Flashes of powerful
         energy lit up the viewer as torpedo after torpedo shot from the
         ship's underside and either intercepted, or missed their targets.

              The strain on the ship could be heard over the whine of her
         impulse engines, accelerating and decelerating. And then came...
         silence, as Enterprise sliced through the ebony sky on the other
         side of the asteroids.

              Sulu was the first to breathe a sigh of relief, before the
         rest of the bridge crew realized the danger had passed.  He looked
         over to Checkov, who was shaking a little, then noticed  that he,
         himself, could not remove his hands from the controls.

              The Captain, being just that, would not let his crew know the
         extent of his relief, but he stepped down behind Sulu and Checkov
         and rested his hands on their shoulders.  "Next time we get to
         Aldebaron, I'm buying."

              Spock, apparently unruffled by their ordeal, noticed the green
         light on his science station's short range scanner and gave it his
         attention.  "Captain, Short range sensors are now operational," he
         announced. "We are nearing Jirus, the fifth planet in the Petroski
         solar system...  Fascinating," he stated, looking into the apparatus.
         "Captain, Jirus does not appear to be in its natural orbit."

              "This is... not good." He rubbed his chin slowly.  "Uhura,
         have you been able to contact Elba II at all, or receive any of
         their transmissions?"

              "No contact yet, Sir."

              "Spock?" He turned to his first officer, who was still
         looking down into his station's scanning equipment.

              "One moment, Sir." Spock pressed two buttons without looking
         up from the equipment, pressed another, then straightened himself
         and turned toward Kirk.  "Captain, " he said, "Elba II is not
         there."  He waited for the full meaning of what he said to sink in.
         "I believe we may have just passed through the remains of the
         planet."

                                       PAGE 7







              "My God, Spock, are you certain?" Kirk said in astonishment.

              "It would explain the orbital shift of its neighboring planet
         Jirus," said the Vulcan.  "The mass loss of one planet would effect
         the gravitational pulls of the entire system."

              "Uhura," said the captain, "Contact Starfleet Command.  Tight
         beam, and scrambled.  I want it to penetrate that energy wave.
         Fill them in and inform them we will scan the area for debris.
         Then prepare a warning buoy directing all ships away from this
         area."  Jim Kirk paused, thinking of Governor Cory, administrator
         of the Elba II colony.  A good man, gone.  "Launch buoy when
         ready," he said.

              "Aye, Sir," Uhura said while already beginning to carry
         out the order.

              "Klingon devils!" Checkov murmured bitterly to himself,
         though just loud enough to be heard.

              "Do you really think the Klingons would violate the
         Organian Peace Treaty, Sir?" Sulu asked his Captain.

              "Without a moment's remorse, if they had any reason to and
         thought they could get away with it.  However the Organians, not
         us, are the enforcers of the treaty."

              "What if they have found a way to cloak themselves from
         Organia like the Romulans cloak their ships from us?" questioned
         Sulu.

              "Anything is possible, but I seriously doubt it," Kirk said as
         he glanced over to his First Officer who appeared completely
         engrossed with his scanner. "Opinion, Mr.  Spock?"

              Spock, of course, had taken the conversation in.  And while
         quite busy with his other duties, he had plenty of time to analyze
         the situation and formulate hypotheses.  "It seems unlikely that
         the Klingons would have such technology to do so, Captain.  I
         believe we may also rule out privateers, unless their ship was
         completely filled with anti-matter warheads, which I estimate as
         equally unlikely," said the First Officer, not looking up from his
         scanner.  "There is one more possibility, which I find more
         probable than the previously stated hypothesis."

              Sudden remembrance flooded Kirk's mind.  It had only been a
         few months ago, though their many adventures had made it seem like
         decades, that a once-great Starship Captain, driven mad, had
         battled Kirk and nearly killed him.  His last memory of the great
         man was one of hope and respect born anew, for a cure to the man's
         insanity had been administered.  Jim became angry with himself for
         letting recent events cloud his mind, keeping him from seeing what
         Spock clearly observed.

              "Captain Garth," Kirk said, almost allowing the sorrow of


                                       PAGE 8








         losing a personal hero to become apparent in his voice.  'and
         something painful' the thought seemed to haunt him.

              Finally looking up from his station, Spock faced his Captain.
         "It is a logical conclusion, considering the potency of the
         explosive he created.  However one could only guess as to the
         events that caused its detonation."

              "It was a very unstable material." Jim Kirk choked back the
         strange and sudden surge of emotion that had grabbed him a moment
         ago.  His emotions seemed strangely 'raw' today. "He told me that
         it could be set off just by dropping it to the floor."

              "And tremendously powerful," Spock added.  "Remember the level
         of destruction that one grain caused.  It is little wonder
         Starfleet delayed moving the substance.  With Elba II as isolated
         as it was, there was far less risk in storing it in Governor Cory's
         vaults than transporting it to another location."

              Jim stepped from his chair, "I don't like it Spock.  Something
         doesn't fit."  The Captain caught himself just as he was about to
         start pacing.  Instead he leaned against his command chair.
         "Precautions had been taken in storing the explosive.  It was held
         in the center of a stasis sphere by anti-gravitons, with its own
         power supply, much like we use to contain antimatter."

              "It is possible that some hostile attempt was made against the
         planet causing the containment field to fail and detonation to
         occur.  However that would again indicate the Klingons on several
         counts." Spock placed his hands on the rail before him and nodded
         toward Checkov.  "First, Elba II maintained a constant planetary
         force field around itself, making it virtually impenetrable to
         anything smaller than a military cruiser.  Second, Elba II's
         scanning equipment would have detected any unauthorized traffic
         long before it reached the planet unless it had a cloaking device."
         Keeping in mind that this line of reasoning still lacked any
         cohesive evidence, not to mention the problem the Organian's posed
         in the equation, he relented. "There are actually many scenarios
         that could explain much of what happened. However, until we have
         more facts for our analysis, we can only speculate."

              "Keep scanning, Mr. Spock.  Mr. Sulu, assemble a recon team to
         collect any debris floating out there.  Maybe we can piece this
         mystery together before Starfleet Intelligence gets here."













                                       PAGE 9



                           ***    TWO    ***



            Light-years away, at the edge of Federation-occupied space,
       defense outposts guard a zone of space currently designated as
       'off-limits' to all vessels, Federation or otherwise.  This Neutral
       Zone separates the United Federation of Planets from the ruthless
       and powerful Klingon Empire.  Both galactic powers were initially
       allowed by treaty to peacefully enter the Zone.  But tensions
       between the two opposing forces had escalated to such a point that
       no contact between the two powers could be called peaceful or
       productive, by either government. The Zone had become a central
       point for espionage and counter-intelligence, making neither side
       confident that its military secrets remained secret.

            Each outpost skirting the Zone is a fully armed battle
       station, carrying the equivalent firepower of a light destroyer.
       The border is patrolled regularly by a rotating shift of
       Starfleet's finest cruisers and destroyers.  These precautions are
       designed as a check and balance system, assuring total compliance
       with the pre-established Klingon/Federation treaty.  The standing
       orders at each outpost are as follows:

            1.  Hail all vessels approaching Neutral Zone and warn
                them off.

            2.  If compliance is negative; fire one warning volley and
                advise Starfleet via designated patrol vessel.

            3.  If negative compliance continues; disable vessel if
                possible, destroy vessel if not.

            Outpost Delta Gamma 13 spotted the distant ship streaking
       towards the Neutral Zone.  On the outpost's main battle bridge,
       night-watch was on duty.

            "Commander O'Hara, I have an outbound vessel at 038, warp
       7!" Lieutenant Tomy announced. She was a bit excited, it being her
       first tour of duty and first day at this post.

            The tall, fair-haired Irish Commander, O'Hara, had almost
       finished his own tour of duty on DG-13.  He had felt that this
       assignment was a form of punishment for the practical joke he
       played on his former Captain while aboard the USS Yorktown.  It
       is an established fact, that few people enjoy transporting down
       to a planet, only to find that their underwear has materialized
       on the outside of their uniform.  Though the Commander had not
       actually been caught in the act, everyone knew who had perpetrated
       it.  Neither was he openly blamed for placing nitrous oxide
       cannisters in the emergency respirators just before the Yorktown
       went on "Environment Alert" drills.

            It was all true, what people said about him; O'Hara was a
       compulsive practical joker.  Though he never meant any harm with
       his humorous escapades, he always seemed to over-do his pranks on

                                       PAGE 10








       the very people who appreciated them the least.  Usually they were
       the ones who also out-ranked him.  And although he tried, O'Hara
       could not even force himself to stop.  If there were humor in it,
       O'Hara would go out of his way to play or overplay the joke.

            "I'm right here, me darlin'. You don't have to shout," said
       Commander O'Hara to the young and nervous Lieutenant.  He stood
       behind her and sipped a warm cup of coffee.

            "Sorry, Sir.  I'm sending the standard transmission now." She
       touched her index finger lightly on the pressure sensitive switch
       and the high intensity warning signal was sent out, automatically
       placing the outpost on yellow alert.

            The slightly scaly alien Ensign at the weapons console turned
       sluggishly toward the Commander and announced, "Defense fields
       activated; station recorder is on; all 'feet' on yellow alert."

            The ensign was a Frillian from the planet Narn.  His face
       looked more reptilian than anything else, and his ever-open green
       eyes were large, with long vertical pupil slits in his iris. His
       uniform was cut to suit his unique physiognomy.  He had eight
       appendages in all, and a short stub of a tail.  Frillians, not
       having hands to speak of, use their long digited feet to operate
       all equipment;  One set of four to grasp and manipulate, the other
       set of four to walk with.  Mr. Spitt did, however, know the
       difference between 'Hands', a ship's company and 'Hands',the things
       that make it easier to pick your nose, but it pleased him to
       constantly punctuate the physiological differences between their
       species.

            "That's gettin ta be old, Mr. Spitt.  Why doncha try to be a
       wee less humorous and a bit more purple."

            Frillians were red in complexion when asleep and a bright
       lavender, when fully awake.  This would normally make it easy for
       one Frillian to be able to tell if another Frillian was enjoying a
       conversation or dozing through it, if it wasn't for the fact that
       their race is color-blind, and do talk a great deal in their sleep.

            Lieutenant Tomy pressed a series of buttons which allowed her
       to bring up a visual of the incoming ship on the main viewscreen.
       She snapped a fingernail pressing the last button.  That did not
       bother her though, for she had already bitten most of the others off
       over the past six hours.

            "Is that the best ya kin do.  I kin hardly tell the ship from
       the stars," said the Commander, squinting his blue eyes.

            "Viewer is at maximum, Sir," she said as she tried to pull the
       fingernail out from under the viewscreen resolution button.

            "Any change in speed or course?"

            "No, Sir. But they seem to be trying to skirt our position."
       She succeeded in removing the nail and tossed it nonchalantly over

                                       PAGE 11








       her shoulder.  It landed in the Commander's coffee and sank to the
       bottom, but O'Hara's attention was elsewhere.

            "Don't eat that!  It's my friend!" shouted the crimson
       Frillian.

            "Wake up, Mr. Spitt!"  The Commander glared at the weapons
       officer.  He swore to himself never to let the ensign work a triple
       shift again.  Most of their small crew had been in and out of
       sickbay the two days past, with a curious form of 'intestinal
       disfunction of unknown origins'.  Unknown to the crew, that is,
       but the outpost's doctor pulled Commander O'Hara aside and warned
       him that if he ever found any trace of laxatives in the food
       processors again, he would have to 'file a detailed report to
       Starfleet, that would be incriminating to someone on this outpost
       of command rank.'

            "Mr. Spitt!" said the Commander.

            The Frillian cocked his head, "Aye Sir, it does seem to be
       foaming at the mouths," still bearing dark red scales.

            "Mr. Tomy, send an advisory to Starfleet and our support ship.
       Tight-beam, you know the drill," spoke the Commander, still narrowly
       viewing the Frillian.  "Place us on red alert while yer at it."

            "Aye Sir," she said as the Commander moved next to Mr.  Spitt
       at the weapons console and readied it.  The inbound ship was just
       far enough away to keep the targeting computer from getting a
       positive lock.  But since the Commander was not going to blast the
       ship with the first volley, only fire a warning shot, he allowed
       the computer to continue the sequence with the inaccuracy variance,
       and fire.

            "Torpedo away," O'Hara said calmly, as this was a very
       routine procedure.  At least twice a week they would get a stray
       ship with communications problems, or once and a while a contraband
       smuggler, never anything worth worrying about.  Everyone knew the
       Neutral Zone Laws and the consequences of crossover.  Klingons do
       not fire warning shots, and their patrol is two-fold the
       Federation's.

            "Sir, scans show the vessel is going sub-light,"
       Lieutenant Tomy said.  "Their scanners must have picked up our
       warning volley.  I'll tell them to prepare to be boarded."

            "Do that, lassie.  How far is our support ship?"

            "I have the Schwarzkopf's ETA at seven minutes," she said
       confidently.

            "Bring us back down to yellow then, and get another officer up
       here to replace Spitt, will ya?"

            The ruby lights around the station signalling red alert
       stopped flashing and were replaced by amber... for about a second

                                       PAGE 12








       and a half...  Then the red came on again.

            "Sir, we are being fired on!" she said with an understandable
       bit of excitement.

            "Shields up," the Commander said, maintaining his calm, "and
       don't worry, me darlin'.  The Schwarzkopf is on its way.  And
       remember our scanners are the best in the Federation and we
       couldn't achieve a weapons lock at this distance.  I doubt they're
       likely ta come close enough ta hit the planet behind us."

            The torpedo sped towards them rapidly, closing the gap between
       the inbound craft and the outpost.  True to the Commander's words,
       it was far from its target.  Then it detonated.  The brilliance
       rivaled, then overcame, that of their local sun and still grew in
       intensity.

            Before Delta Gamma 13's crew could know what was transpiring,
       they, like much of the planet behind them, were gone.






































                                       PAGE 13




                             ***    THREE    ***



            The dark grey Klingon ship came about and joined the two D-7
       cruisers, taking the point of their wing-formation.  They headed
       for the ship coming out of the Federation Neutral Zone into Klingon
       space.  No questions would be asked, no favors granted.  The ship
       was to be destroyed.

            Kang sat in his command chair, no stranger to battle.  Dark
       joy beat in his breast, as he awaited the confrontation before him.
       He was the hunter in search of his prey.  His Klingon blood surged
       through him, heightening his senses, honing his awareness.  He was
       lightning waiting to be unleashed.

            "Helmsman, increase speed to warp 8!" commanded Kang.

            "Increasing speed, Sir!" said the helmsman boldly, not
       revealing his nervousness at the order.  He felt his ship subtly
       vibrate, as her velocity progressed and broke warp factor 8.

            The Klingonese ship's new engines were designed to exceed warp
       9, but her hull structure had yet to be modified to withstand the
       incredible force of the forward thrust at that level.

            "Warp 8 achieved!" reported the helmsman.

            "Full power to the weapons," Kang ordered.

            His ship, the Fury, was the prototype of the D-8 Predator
       class battle cruisers.  Slightly less armaments adorned her than
       the D-7's trailing her but she was swifter and more maneuverable.
       A formidable and lethal weapon in the hands of one with the
       experience of 'Kang: The Destructor'.

            "Commander Kang, I am receiving many Starfleet transmissions
       concerning a large explosion caused by an unidentified Starship.
       The sub-space transmissions are garbled and something is hindering
       reception, but the last report stated that the Starship headed into
       the neutral zone at approximately the same point we picked up the
       intruder ahead of us."  Gor, the communications officer turned to
       look directly at his commander.  "Sir,  the explosion was described
       as 'force S.N. point 1', one tenth that of a Stellar Nova."

            "A Starfleet trick?" Kang queried.

            "I do not believe so, Sir.  They are using the Federation
       Emergency channel, non-coded.  Though they are clever, we have
       never known them to broadcast disinformation on the Federation
       Emergency channel," Gor stated.

            "Could it be one of ours, Sir?" the navigator asked.

            "That is probably what the Federation believes but until we

                                       PAGE 14








       have found a path around the Organians, we have no way of engaging
       in open hostilities."  Kang leaned forward in his chair. "It is
       more than likely that this is a result of some miscreant rebel
       insurrection, spilling out of their hands and into our laps."  He
       cursed the Federation under his breath.  "This should be an easy
       kill; nevertheless, you do not approach a Vorshadragon from the
       front.  The ship's weaponry is an unknown.  It may prove prudent to
       attack from all sides."  He paused in thought, then, "Mr. Gor,
       raise the Terror and Dorgok, ship to ships."

            The communications officer quickly opened a comm  channel to
       the flanking ships.

            "Done, Sir.  Commanders Volte and Pakor on speakers," spoke
       Gor.

            "This is Kang.  Prepare to execute battle maneuver Tychon 7-k.
       Split at my command."  He rested confidently back into his chair.
       "Mark!" he commanded.

            All three battle cruisers turned as if joined together by some
       invisible cable, then suddenly broke formation, each making a wide
       arc to intersect the intruder's projected position.  Like three
       graceful hawks they flew, awaiting the sight of prey to make the
       kill.  Farther apart, then out of each other's sight.  Knowing when
       next they meet, they will share victory and taste blood.

            Kang observed the stars, their patterns, their various colors
       and degrees of luminescence.  They were a majestic back-drop, he
       thought, for the battle that was ahead.  He rubbed his moustache
       with his forefinger and thumb and watched the light of the heavens
       before him...  Watching and waiting.

            Kang was about average size for a Klingon.  Although he was a
       strong man, he had always relied on his cunning in battle, whether
       it be in hand to hand combat or ship against ship.  The dark eyes,
       under his bushy eyebrows, scanned the view ahead waiting for the
       moment that his enemy would come into view.  He was a warlord in
       the truest sense, a worthy adversary for any opponent.  But he did
       have a heart.  A heart that he kept hid from most men and a
       tenderness that he would only share with his wife.  He could be the
       truest of friends to those whom he deemed worthy of his friendship,
       but one would be hard pressed to find an enemy more fierce.

            "My lord, the vessel ahead has shields up and her torpedoes
       are armed.  Scans indicate that their warheads are equipped with an
       unusually unstable material that our computers cannot yet
       identify." Her eyes expressed her concern to the commander.  "I
       recommend caution, my lord," said Mara, science officer and wife to
       Kang.

            Before Kang could respond, Gor broke in.  "Sir, we are being
       hailed by the intruder."  He placed his hand to his ear.
       "Commander, the intruder wishes to discuss terms of surrender," he
       said.


                                       PAGE 15








            "We are Klingons!" he reminded his Comm. officer harshly.
       "We take no prisoners."

            "But," Gor stammered.

            "Enough!" Kang ordered.  Then to his helmsman, "Prepare to
       fire!"

            Kang could see the two other vessels of Klingon origin coming
       into view behind and to port of the intruder.  Just as the faintest
       smile of satisfaction crossed Kang's face, the trespassing ship
       fired directly at the D-7 far to its rear.

            The Dorgok tried evasive maneuvers but the torpedo never
       needed to make contact and in an instant the Dorgok ceased to be.
       The resulting explosion was spectacular, albeit much smaller than
       the one fired on the Federation outpost.  Nevertheless the
       concussive force rocked and shook both engaging cruisers and the
       intruder's vessel as well.

            On the Fury, alert claxons sounded and combustion sirens
       wailed.  In the darkness of the temporarily blacked out bridge,
       smoke spewed from the overhead sensor array, sparks giving off the
       only light.  The emergency lights flickered on, casting a red haze
       in the smoky command room.  Backup power lit up the bridge systems
       bringing control back to the ship.

            "Never have I seen such a weapon," the helmsman spoke in awe.

            "Sir," Gor spoke as he clambered to his feet. "It is they
       who want 'us' to surrender."

            Kang glared at the communications officer with murder in his
       eyes.  Gor averted his own.  His commander had killed with less
       rage than this, but it was an anger born of frustration at the
       situation rather than toward the individual.  Kang now knew that
       their military posture was that of the helpless.  He also knew that
       for a Klingon there was no surrender.  They were warriors, bred for
       conquest, not capitulation.  'This must not be,' he thought to
       himself.

            Kang assessed the field of battle.  He assessed his ship and
       crew.  Only forty seconds had passed since the force wave had hit
       them.  If they must die they will at least wound their enemy.  He
       noted that it would take several seconds to penetrate the shields
       of the Starship and destroy it.  He also noted that in the first of
       those seconds they and the Terror could easily be taken out.  Then
       a thought came to him and he regained his composure.

            "This weapon they have would bring power to the Empire.
       Enough power to destroy Organia and all who would stand in our
       way." He looked at each of the faces of his crew in turn and
       finally rested his eyes on his wife.  Mara was the only one who
       could read the doubt on his face, but just looking at her gave him
       strength.


                                       PAGE 16








            Kang turned to Gor, "We will play the diplomat until we either
       have the weapon or an opening, and then I swear, by the strength of
       the One God, we will crush the invader and scatter his ashes
       through the universe!"  His fist crashed into the arm of his chair.

            "Open communications to our enemy!" Kang ordered.

            Gor rushed to his post, thankful for his life and heartened by
       the words of his commander.  "Channel open, my lord!"  Then "Audio
       only," he added.

            "This is Kang, Commander of the Imperial Cruiser Fury.  With
       whom am I speaking?"  He awaited the reply.  After a few moments it
       came.

            "This is the Captain of the Starship with no name," the bridge
       speakers boomed.  "Obey my command and you may yet live to serve
       your Emperor.  Defy me on any count and your death will be
       immediate."  There was a pause, long enough for the words to hit
       home.  "You will contact the Imperial Throne World.  Make clear to
       them what you have seen and let them know that it is only a
       fraction of the power I hold."

            The voice spoke eloquently, almost elegantly, but forcefully.
       Assured that the words which were spoken were weighed heavily by the
       Klingon and confident that nothing in the Empire could be called
       his 'rival', the voice continued.  "Make it known to the ruling
       council that you and your sister ship are to escort me to a
       rendezvous with your Emperor, where we will discuss the future of
       the known universe."

            Kang heard a gasp from his wife.  She was not the only one on
       the bridge who feared for the Empire.  To lead this angel of
       destruction to the Throne World was Galactic suicide; no, genocide.

            "I come in peace," the voice said.  "However, do not invite my
       wrath upon yourself, for as you have witnessed, my vengeance is
       irrevocable.  No harm will come to anyone if my will is honored."
       The voice over the speaker ceased.

            Kang began to reply, barely able to control his anger.  Before
       his lips could move in response, his communications officer
       announced, "Channel is closed, my lord."

            Rage hit Kang.  Flames of anger began burning in his mind, yet
       he maintained command of himself.  More than anything he wanted to
       lash out at his enemy.  This faceless foe could not know of
       Klingons and believe they would surrender until their very breath
       had left them.  'Who is he?' The question reverberated in his mind.
       Kang needed a plan.  Something unpredictable and quick; nothing
       elaborate.  If he could only contact the Terror so they could act
       as one.  But no, he dare not make any open gestures of deceit.  He
       would have to act alone.

            "Gor, send a detailed recount of our predicament to Imperious
       Admiral Sorr.  Request immediate advisory.  Encode to him that by

                                       PAGE 17








       the time he receives the message we may not be here anymore and
       that my crew was brave in facing their enemy."

            "Yes, Sir," said the Comm. officer.

            "Now we act," Kang decided.  "Weapons officer, have torpedo
       bay send 6 torpedoes to the transporter room immediately." Kang
       turned to his wife.  "Mara, keep scanning the intruder.  If his
       shields drop for any reason, we open fire no matter what events are
       transpiring.  Understood?"

            "Yes my lord," spoke Mara and the weapons officer in unison as
       they began their separate tasks.

            "Helmsman, when I give the command, I want full reverse,
       emergency speed!"

            The helmsman turned with a surprised look on his face.  "We
       are going to flee, my lord?"

            Mara quickly rebuked him, "Have care what you say Torvak.  I
       do not expect you to question his orders again!  Your life at least
       will be at stake, perhaps all of ours."

            Kang looked to his wife.  Long had they served together.
       Longer had they loved one another.  She could give him no son, no
       heir, and he was the last of his proud line.  He bore her no grudge
       for that.  She had given him everything else.  Her loyalty above
       all had earned her his love, even from the beginning.

            "Torpedoes are in position in the transporter room, sir!"

            "Transporter room.  This is Kang." He spoke carefully so that
       no word would be misinterpreted.  "Set torpedo detonation range for
       the proximity of zero.  Set warheads to arm themselves by timer and
       set timers at ten seconds minus," he paused, waiting for them to carry
       out his command.  The moments passed slowly.

            "Done, my lord," came a disembodied voice from the speaker.

            "When I give the command, I want the computer to trip the
       timers.  We are then going to transport all six of the torpedoes
       simultaneously.  Their destinations are to be calculated, handled
       and executed by computer.  They have to materialize exactly when
       the timer's counter reads zero.  Understand that I mean zero."

            "Yes, my lord," came the voice.

            "Encoded destinations are to be equidistant points against the
       enemy vessel's deflector shield perimeter.  Am I understood on all
       points?" Kang demanded.

            "Yes, Sir."

            "Then repeat it!" said Kang, not trying to insinuate that his


                                       PAGE 18








       transporter officer was incompetent, but wanting to stress the
       importance of his exact compliance.  The officer repeated it to the
       last detail.  "Good.  Kang out."

            Kang turned to his weapons officer. "When the torpedoes have
       detonated you are to fire all weapons at the enemy vessel, but do
       not ready weapons until I give the order or the intruder will
       detect it on his scanners."

            "Yes, Sir," said the space veteran.  He had total faith in his
       commander but still expected a glorious death.

            "Torvak, when the vessel's shields are down, she is our equal.
       As our first salvo hits her, she will explode due to the detonation
       of the very weapons she would use to destroy us.  The Federation
       message we intercepted stated that this ship caused an explosion
       akin to a micro nova.  Do you think it would not be prudent to be
       elsewhere when detonation occurs?"

            "Sir... I spoke from ignorance," the young officer said looking
       at the floor.

            Kang stood, prepared to strike back at the one who would
       challenge the Empire.  His crew was also ready, once again having
       the hope of the glory of battle.  They watched him for the signal
       that would start the offensive.  He put his fist to his chest in
       salute of his crew, "Victory to the brave!" he shouted.

            "Victory to the Strong!" responded his crew.

            "Transporter room!" Kang commanded, "Prepare to,"

            "MY LORD!" Mara cut in. "The Terror is charging disrupters
       and has armed her torpedoes.  She is going to engage the enemy."

            "The fools!  Forward viewer on Terror."

            The view-screen changed from a high resolution 2-D on the
       intruder, to a close-up of the Terror.  All watching could see her
       forward torpedo tube go from dark to a glowing red.

            "Intruder firing on Terror!" came Mara again.

            "Brace yourselves!" spoke Kang.

            The screen in front of them glowed brilliantly white and the
       ship was again hit by the terrible blast, causing the backup power
       to fade.  Fire broke out at the science station while Mara, and
       others who were standing, now lay sprawled across the aft section
       of the bridge.

            "Damage report!" ordered Kang, coughing for all the smoke.

            Mara pulled herself up and headed for her post.

            "Torvak, has the enemy's position changed?"

                                       PAGE 19








            "I can't locate," Torvak paused, "Sir! He's astern," spoke
       the officer.

            "Commander," said Mara. "Damage to shields, 50 percent.  On-
       board computer is down, now operating on station micros.  Scanning
       equipment is damaged, extent not yet assessed."

            "My lord, we are being hailed by the vessel with no name,"
       spoke Gor over the sound of the extinguishers.

            "On speakers," Kang commanded, though not desiring to face
       the one who had dishonored him on these terms.

            "Commander Kang, is it your intention to attack this ship like
       your previously 'living' comrades?" the voice asked almost
       pleasantly.

            "What the Terror did, she did of her own accord.  Not by my
       command, which is sovereign here.  Though I do not apologize for
       what she attempted."

            "You are a brave man, Commander.  But remember, it is a small
       thing for me to destroy you so do not tempt me...  I believe that I
       will give you a more definitive idea as to whom and what you are up
       against.  I will demonstrate that not only could I be the Empire's
       greatest ally, but its deadliest enemy." Kang already knew this.
       "Much of which will be determined by the hospitality I receive from
       his Imperious Majesty's representative, who's ship I just happen to
       be targeting presently.  Is my meaning plain enough for you?"

            "It is," Kang said flatly, already beaten.

            "Very well. A force of arms, as the expression goes, will be
       displayed before you.  Do be good enough to make a recording of
       this demonstration, I shall do it but once, and it is significant
       that your Emperor understands the import of our meeting."

            Another voice was heard in the background, "All is in
       readiness your Highness," it said.

            "Excellent!" came the enemy again then back to Kang. "As well
       as yourselves, we are targeting the last planet in the nearest
       solar system.  What do you call this planet?"

            "Skarr 18" Kang said.

            "Witness then that in a few moments, Skarr will have only 17
       planets in orbit around her...  Fire!" the voice commanded.









                                       PAGE 20




                           ***    FOUR    ***



           Enterprise shone like a pearl against a black velvet sky.  She
      remained stationary as the smaller ship, dart-like in appearance,
      approached.  Static electricity discharged with various degrees of
      intensity, arcing, almost dancing about them, in bright blue bolts.
      They were enfolded by the dark and dense cloud of particles that
      had once been Elba II.

           On the bridge of the Enterprise, damage control was completing
      repairs to the ship's injuries, sustained while reaching the
      Petroski solar system.

           "Bridge to Engineering. Mr. Scott, repairs are about done up
      here.  How are things coming on your end?" spoke Jim Kirk to his
      chief engineer.

           "We have green across the board, Capt'n.  Though there is
      still an energy flux in me port nacelle.  I cann'a seem to fine
      tune it out, and it's gonna worra me till I do," said the
      Scottsman.

           "Well done, Mr. Scott.  Keep me informed about that flux.  If
      it gets worse, let me know," Kirk said.

           "Aye Sir, Scott out." The channel closed.

           "Mr. Spock,  I believe it's time to go over to the Javelin for
      debriefing,"  the Captain said as he left his chair, "Mr. Sulu, you
      have the Con."

           Spock followed Jim to the turbo-lift.  Sulu rose from his post
      and took the center seat as the lift's doors 'swooshed' closed.

           "Hanger deck," Jim instructed the lift.  He rubbed his palms
      against his trousers, then folded his arms across his chest.  "Mr.
      Spock," he began, "have you finished the detailed report on the
      landing expedition to Holberg?"

           "Yes, Captain,  it is on file and ready to be transmitted to
      Starfleet Command."

           "I'd like to look at it before you have it sent.  I want to
      compare it to my own log," said Jim.  "Not that I mistrust your
      accuracy Spock, I just want to be sure I didn't leave anything
      important out," he continued, hoping his First Officer would not
      detect his uneasiness about the subject.  He wanted to compare the
      two logs because his memory seemed to have lapsed and he did not
      wish it known to his friend.

           Embarrassment crept up inside him as he thought to himself of
      the way he was trying to conceal this fact from Spock, the very one
      whom he should confide in.  His cheeks shone the barest hint of red
      and he could feel the flush of them.

                                       PAGE 21








           So concerned with himself, Jim did not even notice the
      slightly greener cheeks of Spock.

           Spock was hardly pleased to hear Jim's request.  It was not
      difficult to deduce that Kirk had discovered some missing time
      concerning Flint and the Holberg expedition, more to the truth,
      concerning Reena.

           It is considered not only immoral and illogical but quite
      dangerous for a Vulcan to interfere uninvitedly into another's
      thoughts.  Spock's decision to alter his Captain's memory of the
      death of his love was not derived from logic, but one of "brotherly
      affection".  An emotion alien to him before he knew the man James T.
      Kirk, but alien no longer.

           To all who did not know Spock well, he appeared to be
      typically, totally, Vulcan.  A being devoted entirely to logic,
      suppressing or uprooting any inborn emotion, never discerning the
      turmoil inside him of being only half Vulcan.  His human and Vulcan
      sides constantly strove with each other for supremacy in his
      heart.

           Unlike most humans and Vulcans, Jim Kirk had accepted him as
      is, and demonstrated the strength that could be found in the very
      emotions he struggled to suppress.  There is a balance between the
      two opposing cultures that Spock was only recently becoming aware
      of.  Once thought mutually exclusive, he now could see the harmony
      of the two working in him.  This did not, however, make it any
      easier for him to arrive at an explanation as to why James had no
      memory of Reena Kapec.  He would not lie to Jim.  Perhaps he could
      'exaggerate'?

           The lift doors opened to the face of Dr. Leonard McCoy holding
      two flat squares, one orange, one blue.

           "Bones, I was just wondering if you had the medical tapes for
      us," said Jim.

           "I thought I would deliver them personally, Jim.  Governor
      Cory's staff and patient's files are all here though I'm not sure
      how much help they will be.  They are only as current as the last
      time we were here." The doctor placed the squares in his Captain's
      hands.

           "We were ordered to gather all information pertaining to the
      disaster, regardless of how insignificant."

           "I know, I saw all of the equipment and space debris you are
      taking over to the Intelligence boys.  Not much room for the two of
      you, is there?" Bones escorted the two down the corridor.

           "If we had another shuttle craft available, we would have
      distributed the material between the two.  As it is, it will still
      be a couple of hours before our second recon team returns, and no
      ship will be able to use transporters for weeks in this area with
      all the electromagnetic energy around."

                                       PAGE 22








           "'Months' is what Scotty said," added Bones.

           "Two point seven three months, to be more accurate," offered
      Spock, more to irritate the doctor than to assist.  Dr.  McCoy
      was, to Spock, the most emotionally fascinating person to observe.
      It seemed, paradoxically, that the good doctor was most happy when
      most irritated.  As a friend, Spock felt obligated to keep Bones
      'happy'.  "That estimate is of course barring,"

           "Can't you even say a complete sentence without a statistical
      exposition?" griped the doctor.

           Spock raised an eyebrow. "I find a curious satisfaction, if I
      understand the usage, in being as accurate as possible," he said.
      "Especially around you," he added.  "Perhaps I am overcompensating
      for your consistant and general inaccuracy."

           "I can't take you two anywhere, can I?" Jim cut in.

           The corridor ended with the shuttle bay doors, which opened as
      Jim and company reached them.  He led them into the airlock.
      After the first pair of doors closed behind them, the second,
      leading into the hanger, opened.  A lone shuttlecraft sat on the
      turntable with the name 'Columbus NCC-1701/3', emblazoned on the
      side.  The small interplanetary craft hummed softly as the prep-
      technician ran her through pre-warm and pre-flight procedures.

           Spock and McCoy followed the Captain as he walked the 20
      meters to the central rotational platform, then to the open doors
      of the Columbus.  Spock passed his Captain and entered the craft as
      Jim stopped, realizing McCoy was still tagging along, and turned to
      him.

           "I hope you aren't waiting around for a goodbye kiss, Doctor,"
      the Captain stated, in good humor.

           "Very funny!  I was just making sure you've got everything
      needed from medical, and what do I get for it?" came the Doctor. "I
      wonder if jokes like that are what made Vulcans turn into binary
      brains."

           "Calm yourself, Doctor.  What's put you on edge this time?"

           "Nothing's put me on edge.  I just thought you might have been
      able to work me into your schedule without me having to order you
      down to sickbay for a complete physical."

           "I'm sorry, Bones, is there something you need to discuss that
      I don't know about?"

           "I'm sure you are aware of it," he said, "Painfully aware."

           Jim wrinkled his brow.  'What the heck are you talking about
      Bones?', he thought to himself.  Then an echo from his memory spoke
      'bruised ribs'.  Jim then connected that with "Painfully aware"
      and naturally assumed they were finally on the same wavelength.

                                       PAGE 23








      He was wrong.

           "Oh, that!  Well, when I get back I'll stop in and you can
      tell me how I'm doing," Jim said, tugging at his tunic which
      covered the flexi-truss.  "It doesn't seem to be important, though.
      I hardly feel bruised at all."

           "My God, Jim, I thought you were crushed." Bones, on the other
      hand, was referring to Jim's heart, at the loss of the android /
      lifeform / love: Reena Kapec.

           "Crushed?"  Jim could not remember being crushed.  He could
      remembered nothing of how the injury came into being.  "Perhaps it
      looked that way, but really, I'm fine," he said honestly.  "I
      almost don't even feel it anymore."

           Spock, with his amazing Vulcan sense of hearing, naturally was
      in earshot of the entire conversation.  His muscles were
      unconsciously tensed.  His eyes were looking straight ahead.  He
      was listening intently, waiting for McCoy to let the 'feline' out
      of the proverbial 'satchel'.  Then he focused his eyes on the tip
      of his nose.  It was the first time he could recall ever seeing
      nervous sweat on a Vulcan.  "Fascinating," he whispered to no one.

           "Tell that to the Fleet Cadets, Jim, not me.  I know what
      you've been through.  I know it must hurt."

           This was really starting to confuse the Captain.  The doctor
      never made this much fuss, unless it was more serious than he
      thought.  'What is it?  A ruptured spleen?  Punctured kidney?  No,
      Bones would never have let me back on the bridge if there was that
      much damage.'

           Jim looked the doctor directly in the eyes.  "Ok, Bones, I
      think it's time I told you the truth."  He waited for a moment to
      muster his courage.  It is not an easy thing for any Captain to
      admit to the ship's doctor that there is a possibility of mental
      failure.  "Bones, I don't know 'how' I did it.  OK?"  He put his
      hand to his side indicating his ribs.  "I know it aches, but I
      can't for the life of me think of how it could've happened.  I,"

           "Jim, matters of the 'heart' are always like that," Bones
      said, cutting in, "We never know how these things happen.  You just
      have to take it easy.  Now isn't the time to be under stress, so
      don't overdo it, alright?  Doctor's orders!"

           'That's it!' Jim thought. 'It's not my ribs, it's my heart!
      Cardiac arrest could account for my memory loss, and if CPR was
      administered, it would leave my ribs bruised.'

           Kirk now realized, at least he believed he understood, why the
      doctor was concerned, and became very concerned himself.  He had no
      knowledge that his ribs became bruised while in hand to hand combat
      with Reena's creator / lover, Flint.  Spock had seen to it that he
      did not remember, for the pain of her death was more than he
      thought Jim could bear.

                                       PAGE 24








           Jim gulped. "I didn't know it was that bad.  All I remember
      is,"

           "Jim," Bones cut him off again. "It's better you try to
      forget. Let it heal, before you go out and it happens again."

           "Again!?!  Bones, you really think it could happen again!?!"

           "If I know you, James T. Kirk, the next planet you set foot
      on, you'll meet some young filly or 'miraculously' out from a tree
      will pop a former sweetheart and, BLAMO!"

           Jim gulped again.  'BLAMO!?!' His eyes widened a bit.

           Spock could bear the conversation no longer.  As he rose, he
      noticed the imprints his fingers had left on the navigational
      console where he had been sitting.  "Remarkable," he stated, and
      calculated the amount of pressure in kilograms PSI that it would
      take to leave such impressions in the hyper-alloy aluminum 1
      millimeter thick, as he stepped through the shuttle door.
      "Fascinating," again to himself.  "Captain, the Javelin is awaiting
      us.  Shall I signal them regarding a temporary delay?"

           "No, Spock, I'm ready." He looked at the doctor, a bit
      frightened by the 'BLAMO' comment.  "Providing the Doctor thinks
      I'll survive."

           "You've got my approval." Bones smiled but noticed Jim's
      hesitation to take him at his word.  "Seriously, Jim, clean bill of
      health," McCoy said, genuinely glad to have had the chat with Jim
      and been able to clear the air of this unfortunate incident.

           "Thanks, Bones.  See you soon." the Captain said, feeling
      slightly better himself, after McCoy's last comment and finally
      satisfied that his mind was not unduly slipping.  He stepped into
      the shuttle and the doors closed behind him.





















                                       PAGE 25



                            ***    FIVE    ***



            The star was dark in comparison to those of similar size and
       mass.  Like all stars, this one was shrinking as it burned.  Though
       at a much slower than average rate of decline, entropy would still
       have the final word against it.  Seven planets were held in its
       gravitational pull, orbiting in close proximity to the burning
       fiery giant.

            The first and closest planet was named Tuj Wa, or "Hot One",
       without much imagination.  Its molten surface was not always so,
       but over thousands of years, as its orbit decayed, it was drawn
       closer to the star and would soon become fuel for it.

            The second planet, Ka Zsaholt, was named after a legendary
       hero, who led his people out of slavery into a land they could
       call their own.  Its three moons were said to hold the wealth of
       the Empire.  The Imperial Vaults were imbedded deep under each
       moon's surface.  Each held a heavily armed, fully insulated battle
       fortress, in place on the magnetic poles, to protect these
       valuables from everything and everyone.

            The third and fourth planets in the system were Toc and Fi.
       They were sister worlds; gaseous giants revolving around each
       other, as well as their stellar host.  An asteroid belt woven
       around and between the two was the only remnant of their once
       numerous moons, now pulverized as a result of impacting with each
       other.

            The fifth planet, if it could be called so, is the newest of
       the seven.  Long ago it had been a tremendous comet.  Though
       smaller than most standard moons by a third, it had been captured
       into an inescapable new orbit as it passed through the gas giant
       Fi's atmosphere, and slowed, narrowly escaping the gravity of the
       planet.  A warmer sun would have turned it completely to gas by
       now, but shrouded in its own reflective vapor, the small frozen
       core of it still remained.

            The sixth and least remarkable planet was Bok Buul. It was
       crater filled and  mildly volcanic, with just enough atmosphere,
       consisting mostly of hydrogen, to cause planet-wide fire clouds
       when eruptions occurred.  These fires, though spectacular, only
       happened once every 30 to 40 standard years, which is why the
       expression, "We will show you mercy when Bok Buul glows", means you
       will not see mercy soon.

            The seventh and last planet was the pride of the Empire.  She
       had many names and was often referred to in the female vernacular,
       for she was the Mother World.  Throne world she was often called,
       but Klinzhai was her proper name and Home was what she was to every
       Klingon.  She was the heart of the Empire; their first loyalty,
       their first love.

            It is said by all Klingons, "When the universe was created,

                                       PAGE 26








       Klinzhai was the goal."  This did contrast with what the Federation
       said, which was "When the universe was created Klinzhai was where
       God's sewer backed up."



                                      *    *    *



            The Emperor rarely left the planet.  He did have the largest
       ship in the fleet and when he did travel, his ship was escorted by
       no less than four heavy cruisers.  He had been Emperor for 12
       standard years since the reign of his father ended with, of course,
       his father's life.  Mocdar Jek Tromok was his name.  He was a
       powerful man in authority and stature.  He bore the royal marking
       on his forehead.  The imperial crest that distinguished the
       highborn bloodline from the soft smooth brow of the common people.
       A resurgence of the line had been seen recently in the masses,
       giving all who bore the crest, military privileges above the
       others.

            The Emperor paced the long corridor decorated with tapestries,
       his cape trailing his heels, billowed with each thunderous stride.
       He stopped at the tall window overlooking the gates of the majestic
       palace's entrance.  His gaze drifted upwards as he heard the rumble
       of his Imperial transport descending through the copper veil of
       clouds in the rusty sky.  The landing platform, just outside the
       stone gates to the right, glowed blue with a red flashing perimeter
       as the beacon signaled the all clear code.

            No off-worlder had ever been allowed to approach Klinzhai,
       unless they came in magnetic bonds.  This intruder, who single-
       handedly defeated his best defensive wing, was not about to be
       permitted to set foot on royal dirt.  He was, however, not about to
       take the intruder lightly after viewing the destruction wrought by
       the lone ship.  Nor was he going to arbitrarily strike a blood
       covenant with the dangerous and secretive man whose voice the
       Emperor had recognized from his past.  But he could not remember to
       whom the voice belonged.

            A bell tolled, signalling that someone was approaching the
       door to the palace hall.  "Enter," came the bass voice of the
       Emperor as he rested his hand on the hilt of his energy dagger.
       The door opened and the force barrier parted.  Imperious Admiral
       Sorr entered with ten fully armed "Ramjep Avwi", the 'Midnight
       Guard', the Emperor's elite guard.

            The Admiral bowed. "Your Highness, your shuttle has arrived.
       If we are to rendezvous with the Fury on time, we must depart now."

            "Have your men been able to analyze the data on this new
       weapon with any favorable results?" questioned the Emperor.

            "I fear not, my lord.  Against it we have no defense," the
       Admiral stated matter-of-factly.  "If we were to try to oppose

                                       PAGE 27








       the intruder, we would sacrifice most or all of the fleet with no
       guarantee of victory.  The only positive point of view is that the
       Federation has no defense against it either."

            The Emperor looked again to the window.  "The counsil has
       advised an alliance, with provision...  The provision being that we
       trade for the weapons aboard his vessel in addition to the formula
       and dynamics of this weapon.  In turn, he will receive the Tkomat
       solar system to rule under me with two new cruisers to command."
       He inhaled deeply the thick hot air of his world, savoring his last
       moments on the planet.  "What is your opinion of this proposal?"

            The Admiral thought for a moment.  It was a danger to speak to
       the Emperor without choosing carefully the correct words and
       considering the consequences should their meaning be
       misinterpreted.  "My lord, this jeQ Ha'Dlbah is merely a terrorist
       from the Federation.  Granted, a most powerful one as he has
       demonstrated.  But, my liege, I see only one course of action apart
       from giving in to the treacherous villain." He waited for the
       Emperor to command him to speak, for only by command could he hope
       to say what he must and leave the palace alive.

            The Emperor turned his complete attention to the Admiral.  His
       dark grey shoulder-length hair waved behind his back as a strong
       hot blast of wind entered the hall from the shuttle's touchdown.
       The ground shook momentarily, then steadied once again.  Perceiving
       the reason for Sorr's delay, he responded, "So be it; you have my
       command."

            The guards behind the Admiral, knowing the risk he was taking,
       tensed their muscles, hoping their next mission would not be to
       bury him.

            "Your Majesty, by his own words, the intruder has put your
       life in jeopardy, as he is only allowing three armed guards to
       escort you aboard his ship.  He has sworn to keep his shields
       lowered while you are on board and promises to have no more than
       three armed guards of his own present at the meeting.  Scanners
       will verify all of this.  But, Sire, if he should raise his
       shields,"

            "Are you questioning my ability to defend myself?  Do you
       think the Emperor of all Klinzhai's realm is afraid to face this
       invader at the cost of his life?" the Emperor fumed.  His anger was
       explosive.

            "No, my liege.  I am counting on it," he continued.  "But if
       it is at all possible, face him alone.  Leave all guards outside the
       meeting chamber.  Agree to all his terms if you must, but make him
       swear the blood oath to it.  If he allows his enemy, you my lord,
       to cut his palm, you can just as easily lacerate his throat," he
       said, trying to read his Emperor's reaction.

            "You have half a plan.  Is there more?" the Emperor spoke
       coldly.


                                       PAGE 28








            "I have a device here."  He produced a small box with several
       buttons on it from inside his breastplate.  "This will allow you
       to record the foe's voice by pressing the black button.  Once he
       is dead, you simply speak into the box pressing the blue button,
       issue the command to transfer all weapons to your ship, and the
       machine will repattern your voice to that of our enemy's.  Then
       while their shields are still lowered, we lock onto you, beam you
       back and destroy his vessel.  No enemy, no concessions."

            The Emperor listened to the Admiral, considering his words and
       picturing himself carrying out the plan.  If events transpired as
       predicted, he would single-handedly give victory to his empire and
       restore his pride with it.  Both were of equal value to him.  It
       was not without risk, but being willing to even board the most
       dangerous ship in the galaxy was a tremendous gamble within
       itself.  While dwelling on these thoughts, his anger left him.

            "Why don't you use the voice from the recorded conversation
       with him.  If I am seen pressing buttons, might it not be construed
       as suspicious?" the Emperor pondered.

            "My lord, we can not be sure the voice we heard is his actual
       voice.  The acoustic enhancements of this device is not a new
       technology.  There are many ways to deceive over any broadcast
       medium," the Admiral explained.  "My prime fear is that a code or
       password may be required to command the enemy's crew to transfer
       the weapons to your ship.  Regardless of that, we will be able to
       transport you back before they can react to our deception and beam
       over a boarding party.  We may be able to attack more effectively
       from within."

            The Admiral could tell that his idea was being well received.
       His pulse rate began to drop to the normal level.  "As for being
       observed operating the unit, my men are even now working on a micro
       remote that will fit inside your glove where you may control it
       unseen."

            "You have thought this well through, Sorr.  I will take this
       plan you suggest under advisement on the way to my destination.
       Have your men continue as if I had accepted this avenue," spoke the
       Emperor.  "Now let us depart.  The sooner our invader is dealt
       with, the quicker we will be able to deal with the Federation."

            With that the Emperor passed through the ranks of his elite
       guard, who turned on their heels and escorted him to his launch.

            "One more thing Admiral," he said without turning. "I want the
       enemy's voice cross referenced with all transmissions intercepted
       from the Federation in the past 30 years.  And I want the results
       before the rendezvous!"

            "As you command, my lord," he answered, trailing Emperor
       Tromok.

             'I know that voice!' thought the Emperor to himself.


                                       PAGE 29



                             ***    SIX    ***



            "Permission to come aboard," requested Captain James T. Kirk,
       as he stepped down from the shuttlecraft, his First Officer behind
       him.

            "Permission granted, Captain," the young ensign stated.  "If
       you will follow me, I'll escort you to the briefing room."

            The Captain followed, as did the Enterprise's Science Officer.
       A team of 'Intelligence Grey' clad officers filed aboard the
       Columbus with antigravs to carry the cargo to their specialized
       analysis chambers.

            "This way, Sirs," the junior officer said as they rounded the
       corner, leaving the Javelin's hanger bay behind.  "It must be
       pretty dusty out there.  Our bay crew will have your ship polished
       by the time you are ready to leave."

            "Thank you, Ensign," said Kirk as he observed various crewmen
       briskly walking through the corridors.  "How much damage did you
       sustain passing through the concussion wave?"

            "Minimal, Sir. We shut down sensors before we neared the
       system, per your instructions.  The initial force had time to
       diminish and the asteroids had spread out enough to permit safe
       passage.  Though how you made it through must have been a miracle."

            "Very likely," smiled the Captain.  He was proud of the
       performance of his crew.  Always beating the odds.  As crews went, he
       believed he had the best, but sometimes he could not help but
       think that it had to be more than human effort and chance that they
       had been so fortunate in their many times of trouble.

            "In here, Sirs."  The door opened to a conference room.  Jim
       and Spock entered, trailed by the ensign.  They were greeted by a
       short and stocky man.  Troy Hamill was his name, Captain of the USS
       Javelin.

            "Welcome aboard, Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock.  I'll make the
       introductions, then take my leave."  Behind Captain Hamill,
       standing next to a broad table of rare black Diri wood, stood two
       men.  The first, a tall silver-haired man with strong chiseled
       features, wearing Commodore's braids and insignia.  Jim recognized
       this man as Commodore Stormcloud.  Captain Hamill introduced him.
       He saluted in rigid military fashion.  Jim and Spock responded
       accordingly.  The second man was unknown to Jim.  He was introduced
       as Lieutenant Reudolpho Grensk.  Grensk was slightly shorter than
       the Commodore, but equally as formal in his military dress and
       mannerisms.

            Jim knew, on the spot, that the proceedings would adhere to
       stiff military form.  Little or no informal pleasantries.
       Something told him that further-reaching ramifications had occurred

                                       PAGE 30








       than just the loss of Elba II.

            "I'll be on the bridge, Commodore, gentlemen." he saluted
       then exited the room, followed by the ensign who had been escort to
       Kirk and Spock.

            "Captain Kirk, Commander Spock, be seated," ordered Commodore
       Stormcloud.  He glanced down to the ebony table and spoke to the
       console embedded in it.  "Computer on," he said, as both he and the
       lieutenant sat.  "Recorder on," he added.

            "Recorder on," spoke the computer, whose digitized voice
       reminded Jim of the Enterprise's head nurse.

            "Let the record show that I,  Nathanial P. Stormcloud,
       security clearance Alpha-Alpha-Beta, open this inquiry and
       temporarily extend the aforementioned clearance to all in this
       room.  Proceed with scan verification."

            The center of the table showed no seam; it looked as if it had
       always been a single sheet of dark wood.  A moment later a split
       appeared in the center, revealing a set of doors.  The doors parted
       and out came a scanning armature that rose up to the Commodore's
       eye level.  A beam of low intensity laser light emitted from the
       scanner, and began recording the retina pattern of his right eye,
       cross-referencing and verifying that it was indeed, Commodore
       Nathanial P. Stormcloud who issued the command.

            "Verification complete.  99.8 percent accuracy," it stated.
       The armature then scanned the entire room, noting only three other
       officers present.  It followed the same procedures as before.  Each
       officer stated his name and received the proper verification.

            "Security clearances altered according to command," it stated,
       then folded itself up and closed the doors behind it, becoming a
       seamless tabletop once again.

            "Captain Kirk," began Stormcloud, "recount for the record, the
       events from first receiving the distress signal, to our arrival.
       Include a summary of all communications to and from the USS
       Enterprise."

            Jim sighed to himself.  This was the part of being the Captain
       of a Starship that he liked the least.

            Stormcloud stared at the Captain with a firm gaze throughout
       the entire debriefing, only looking down at his monitor to confirm
       the given times of messages passed and received.  Spock noted his
       lack of emotion, as the Captain spoke, and inwardly paid his
       respects to the man.

            One hour and ten minutes later the Captain ended with, as
       requested, the arrival of Javelin.  He was relieved to reach the
       end of the tale, not liking to speak for extended periods of time,
       and weary from consciously trying to omit unnecessary information,
       to expedite the monologue.

                                       PAGE 31








            "Is there anything you wish to add, Captain Kirk?" asked
       Stormcloud.

            "Yes, an observation if I may."  There was no response from
       the Commodore, so Jim took it as permission given.  "By certain
       appearances, this incident would seem to go deeper than just a
       'Grade 4' disaster, which by the evidence, a 4 is all it warrants."

            "Continue, Captain.  Except for tight beam transmissions
       directly to you, you have been 'incommunicado' due to the
       disturbances caused by the disaster.  What impresses you to think
       that it is more serious than your data states."

            "You do, Sir," spoke the Captain rather boldly.  "You are the
       highest ranking intelligence officer in the fleet.  Since our
       'theft' of the Romulan Cloaking Device, Starfleet has been gearing
       up for imminent invasion.  'Taskforce Rihanshu', headed by you, if
       I remember correctly, is priority one."

            "I assume that your point is 'why wouldn't I send someone else
       in my place if this situation was less than a grade one priority.'"

            A nod from Jim and a raised eyebrow from Spock spoke the
       affirmative in place of words.  Even the computer recorded it as a
       'yes'.

            "Perhaps you consider me to be of more importance than, in
       reality, I am," Stormcloud offered the Captain.

            "Commodore Stormcloud," Spock entered the conversation, "you
       are next in line for the Admiralty.  I estimate the odds are above
       90 percent that you will attain that rank within the next six
       months."

            "Thank you for the vote of confidence, Mister Spock.  You are
       probably correct, as are you, Captain."  His tough Military facade
       lessened a bit.  "Gentlemen, I intended for you to see this a
       little later, however, you are now cleared and your suspicions are
       well founded."  He pressed a button on the console in front of him.
       The lights dimmed.  "Computer, run tape 7773T on wall viewer."

            "Waiting," spoke the feminine voice of the computer.

            "Now, blast it!", responded the Commodore.

            "Password accepted; vocoder verified."  Then the computer was
       silent.

            "Regular passwords can be forgotten and are less satisfying,"
       Stormcloud commented as the viewer came to life displaying a
       tranquil starscape.  Chronometer readings, spatial coordinates and
       ship's heading were computer superimposed in the lower left hand
       corner and the Starfleet insignia, bearing the ship's name
       'Schwarzkopf' at the lower right.  The blackness of space, speckled
       with white transformed instantly, completely, to a brilliant white,
       then faded slowly back to its original view.  Then the star scene

                                       PAGE 32








       began to shake violently, as if a cameraman had been taking
       pictures of the stars while riding a bucking bronco.

            "What you see is not a recording error gentlemen." The
       Commodore pressed the pause button on his console.  "It is an
       explosion of like magnitude as the one that destroyed Elba II.
       This one took place nearly 5 standard hours later than Elba's, on
       the border of the Klingon Neutral Zone.  The vessel that fired the
       weapon destroyed the outpost that was attempting to prevent it's
       crossover."

            "About the weapon," Jim began, "did it give the same energy
       readings as the ones we picked up?"

            "The very same, and I'll bet you have already deciphered the
       energy pattern and recognize its signature."

            "The Garth Explosive,"  Jim responded. "We determined that it
       was the cause, but we thought it had all been destroyed in the
       initial explosion.  Was there any more of the substance at another
       location where it could have been stolen?"

            "With the exception of a few grams, it was stored in it's
       entirety on Elba, in Cory's vaults.  The smallest of grains
       removed from the planet has been accounted for and it certainly was
       not common knowledge that the substance even existed."

            "If I may, Sir," Spock interposed, "espionage is the most
       effective weapon in any 'cold' war.  It is illogical to assume any
       secret is completely secure."

            "Quite correct, Mr. Spock.  It is highly possible that the
       Federation's security has been compromised and that our enemies are
       'in the know'.  But Elba was the only place where any significant
       quantity could be obtained.  Although the components of the
       explosive had been determined, the proportional formula was never
       ascertained due to its complexity and instability.  Two of our top
       scientists died in the first of attempts to replicate it.  They
       were painstakingly careful in every stage of their work, but when
       they only had two thirds of the components in the mixture, it
       exploded, killing them both, destroying their notes."

            Stormcloud cleared his throat and continued.  "In the second
       series of tests, remote transporters were used in hopes that a 'pad
       to pad' beam would give us the formula breakdown in the computer
       transit control.  However, upon beaming, the substance's unstable
       properties caused a core skip in the first transporter pad.  Thus
       after successfully transmitting the particle, the pad tried to beam
       itself, which it naturally could not quite do.  It did manage to
       begin the beaming process, causing its own molecules to drift,
       unravel and most of it finally turned to dust.  The second pad, in
       trying to reassemble the particle, simply shorted out and never
       gave us any information, other than to stop using transporters in
       the research."

            Jim refrained from smiling, though with some effort.  He

                                       PAGE 33








       momentarily thought of how Bones would enjoy seeing a transporter
       destroy itself without endangering human lives.  "The hostile
       vessel headed into the neutral zone then?" he asked, letting the
       gravity of the situation sink back in.

            "Schwarzkopf's scanners could not penetrate the energy wave to
       confirm it, but we are certain that it did.  Our sources have
       informed us of heavy Klingon activity across the border,
       immediately after the incident, and it is reported by our
       operatives across the 'zone' that the Klingonese Emperor and his
       royal armada are leaving Klinzhai for a quadrant very near the
       zone.  I for one do not believe in coincidences.  What I do believe
       is that the Klingons are preparing for a major offensive strike.
       There is one question that remains a complete mystery to us."

            "I, Sir, can think of several," Spock interjected. "Not the
       least of which is 'If there was Klingon involvement in these
       incidents of destruction, why has Organia remained silent?'"

            "Why indeed, Mr. Spock.  Considering that it was they who
       forced both our Federation and the Klingon Empire to cease any form
       of aggression, or risk their unwanted intervention." The
       Commodore's voice intensified, making his feelings about the
       Organians plain.  "We are now restricted by them from rightfully
       deploying a great amount of our defensive weaponry.  We are barred
       from any first strike capability or retaliatory engagement.  In
       short, we are at the mercy of a race of beings whom we know nothing
       about!" His anger toward the Organians took Kirk by surprise.

            "Commodore," the Captain spoke in defense of them, "mercy
       seems to be the very reason for their intervention.  As you know,
       Sir, I was there when it happened."  The Captain placed both hands
       on the table and rose, never breaking his eye contact with his
       superior.  "If you remember, we were at war.  It was our fault that
       Organia was stuck in the middle of it."  Jim easily remembered the
       circumstances of their 'first contact' with the aliens in question.
       "For all the Federation's good intentions, we brought our conflict."
       Jim momentarily reflected, "I brought our conflict with the
       Klingons to their innocent planet, which would have been destroyed,
       along with countless other civilizations, and possibly brought the
       downfall of both Empire and Federation." The Commodore's brow
       furrowed in anger, but Jim did not let that stop him.  "Had not the
       Organians proven their benevolence by the use of their power, we
       might not be alive to debate their intentions."

            "We are not here to debate their intentions Captain, and
       though you had been the first in the Federation to make official
       contact with them, I hardly see how you qualify as an expert on
       the subject of what motivates them and why!" the Commodore fumed.

            "With all due respect," spoke the Enterprise's only Vulcan,
       "the Captain is quite correct when pointing out the nobility
       evidenced by the Organians.  Their act was one of complete
       impartiality.  Their goal was peace."  Spock bridged the tips of
       his fingers together.  "In discerning the nature of anyone's
       motives, one must weigh the words spoken with the deeds performed,

                                       PAGE 34








       and consider what is to be gained by the one being scrutinized.
       Their words were complemented by their actions and the only thing
       gained was an end to the conflict.  The gain was ours."

            "Wrong, Mr. Spock," the large man narrowed his eyes at the
       science officer. "Control, not peace was achieved.  Since the
       incident we have heard 'Peace!', 'Peace!', when there is no peace.
       We do not coexist with the Klingons by any mutual agreement of our
       own wishes.  This peace you speak of is nothing of the kind.  We
       and the Klingons are under control, by a race of beings whose power
       is thrust upon us, against our will!" he said, spitefully, to the
       Vulcan.  "We do know this fact, Mr. Spock, that when the Klingons
       appeared on Organia, the inhabitants were quick to abide by all
       laws imposed on them and assured the enemy of complete cooperation.
       You and your Captain even tried to persuade them to resist Klingon
       rule and they ignored you.  I do not hold with your opinion of
       their benevolence nor impartiality.  I believe they merely used
       their power to postpone our conflict until it suited their
       purposes."

            Jim Kirk understood the Commodore's point of view.  It was a
       valid argument in part, yet made no room for the gratitude that
       was due to Organia for preventing the largest war this galaxy had
       ever faced.  His attention shifted from his superior, to the silent
       Lieutenant Grensk.  Something about the lieutenant made Kirk
       uneasy.  'His eyes', Jim thought.  His eyes remained open,
       unblinking for much longer than Jim would feel comfortable.  Then
       a slower than normal blink, and open once again.  If Grensk's
       attention was not constantly shifting from Spock and himself, he'd
       swear the man had been heavily sedated.

            "I submit that the argument is moot, Commodore," Spock stated
       evenly.  "Regardless of Organia's rationale, there is nothing the
       Federation and Klingon Empire can do to alter the situation.  As
       long as Organia enforces the treaty, we are able to do nothing but
       adhere to it."

            "Then why, Mr. Spock," Stormcloud's voice, still bitter, "does
       the Klingon Empire violate the treaty without Organian Reprisal?
       We have been lulled to sleep with words of peace, only to find, and
       possibly too late, the treacherous intentions of these so-called
       'Angels of Mercy'!"

            "There is no conclusive evidence of that, and every one of us
       here knows it," cut in Kirk, trying to take the heat off his First
       Officer.  "There are many possibilities.  You above all should know
       how sketchy the details are.   We're only working with bits and
       pieces of information and there are no witnesses to the events,
       save on the ship that headed into the neutral zone."

            "Granted, Captain Kirk," his voice slightly calmer.
       "However, I am officially putting all quadrants bordering the
       Neutral Zone on full alert.  Martial law is now in effect in all
       systems within 10 parsecs of the zone.  I have already mobilized
       one quarter of the fleet to form a defensive line until we decide
       how to proceed."  Stormcloud pressed a button on his console and a

                                       PAGE 35








       data storage square ejected from its slot into the Commodore's
       hand, who then passed it to Lt.  Grensk.  "If what I suspect about
       the Organians is true, these actions will make little difference.
       That is why I have a secondary phase to this strategy." The
       Commodore extended his hand out to his aide, who placed a sealed
       envelope bearing the Starfleet insignia with Kirk's name below,
       into it.

            "Our new orders?" Jim asked, used to receiving them via coded
       subspace transmission.

            "If it were up to me, Captain, these orders would be going to
       someone who had a different, shall I say, 'perspective', on the
       situation.  But Starfleet seems to have more confidence in you than
       I do."  He pushed the packet across the table to Jim.

            Kirk picked the packet up, examined the biomagnetic seal,
       making sure there were no tamper marks.  Regulations require this
       before accepting any sealed classified document.

            "You may go over the specific details on the Enterprise at
       your leisure, but in essence, they are as follows:  One; set course
       for Organia.  Two; observe war-time regulation 24 section 12, no
       subspace communication until objective has been successfully
       engaged.  Three; while exactly eight standard hours from your
       destination, set the Enterprise for self-destruct."

            Jim Kirk opened his mouth to object, and was immediately
       silenced by Stormcloud, who lifted a hand indicating that Jim had
       better shut his mouth and listen to his superior officer.  Spock
       showed no sign that he cared that this could be the Enterprise's
       last mission.  'Vulcan inscrutability', Jim thought.  Sometimes it
       really got on his nerves.

            "The computer-controlled countdown to destruction is to be
       modified for nine hours minus.  Four; upon arrival, assume lowest
       possible orbit.  Five; disembark via shuttlecraft, I stress,
       shuttlecraft.  Contact this fellow, Ayelborne, with whom you dealt
       with on your last mission to Organia, and question him as to why
       there has been no effort on his part to enforce the treaty.  Six;
       and this part you had better follow to the letter or I will
       personally dance at your court-martial, if Ayelborne has not
       explained himself satisfactorily, you will return to the Enterprise
       and command all hands to abandon ship.  You will then allow
       Enterprise to self-destruct by antimatter intermix, not hull
       charges.  I want Organia's surface wiped clean.  Understood,
       Captain?" asked Stormcloud finally.

            "Understood!" answered the Captain, not attempting to conceal
       his contempt from his superior.  "One question.  What makes you
       think we have the ability to destroy the Organians?  The Klingons
       used disrupters on them to no effect."

            "An anti-matter explosion is considerably different from a
       simple disrupter, Captain."  He pointed to the packet Jim was
       holding.  "Lieutenant Grensk will be accompanying you on this

                                       PAGE 36








       mission as an observer and to document everything done on the
       mission.  You will afford him every courtesy but ask nothing of
       him."

            "I am perfectly capable of carrying out a mission without
       being escorted by an intelligence watchdog.  I'm a Starfleet
       Captain, and I am certain that my record speaks for itself."

            "Your record speaks many things, Kirk.  We shall see just how
       accurate the record is.  Nevertheless, you might say Mister Grensk
       is my personal insurance policy."  Stormcloud pushed himself away
       from the table.  "If there is no further comment, gentlemen, I will
       call this debriefing to a close."

            "Sir," Spock raised an eyebrow, "there is a great deal that
       has not been covered, and the evidence, as of yet, is
       circumstantial, to say the least."

            "I assure you, Mr. Spock, that the investigation is far from
       over, on our part.  Is there anything specific you wish to ask or
       disclose?"

            "There is, Sir.  Though all the relevant particles of debris
       have yet to be recovered, there has not been any substance analyzed
       that would indicate the destruction of a Starship.  Not even the
       trace energy of the antimatter reactor has been detected.  My
       question therefore is, what happened to the Fringe Ranger?"

            "Missing, Mr. Spock," was his only reply.  "Lieutenant Grensk
       will meet you at your shuttlecraft in twenty minutes."  He looked
       at Kirk, then Spock.  Both were about to ask more questions.  He
       held up his hand to stop them.  "Dismissed!" he said.

            Jim looked at Spock, knowing the Vulcan could read the
       frustration on his face.  "Let's go, Mr. Spock."  He saluted the
       Commodore and left the room with his First Officer.  They were
       greeted on the other side of the door by the young Ensign who had
       escorted them to the conference room.

            "If you will follow me, Sirs, I will lead you back to your
       craft," he said, almost cheerfully.

            "You may escort Mr. Spock to the shuttle, Ensign, and you can
       point me to the nearest head," said Jim.

            "Down corridor C, third door to the left."  With that, Spock
       and the Ensign proceeded down the hall, opposite in direction to
       corridor C.

            Kirk followed the ensign's directions, but found the entrance
       blocked by a maintenance man unloading his tool box from a gurney.
       Looking up from his tools, the man in the maintenance jumpsuit
       raised his hand indicating for Jim to stop.  "You probably don't
       want to go in there, Sir!" the man warned.

            "That's strange, Mister,"

                                       PAGE 37








            "Maintenance Chief Holtz, Sir."

            "That's strange, Chief Holtz, I was under the impression that
       'that' was exactly the place I wanted to go."

            "Yes, Sir, I mean no, Sir.  It's not that you aren't allowed,
       but we are installing a new fixture, specially designed for the
       Ambassador we're receiving next week," he spoke assuming the
       Captain was aware of whom he was talking about.  "He's a
       'Stelmeko', Sir," he added for clarity.

            Jim had made it a point to keep abreast of all the new races
       entering the Federation, but this was a new one on him.  He shook
       his head admitting his ignorance.

            "They're built differently than we are.  Very differently!" he
       emphasized.  "I've never seen one, mind you, but by the design of
       the facility I'm installing, I'm not sure I want to," he said very
       seriously.

            "There are many races that look different than we do but when
       you get down to it, you'll find we are all pretty much the same."
       'Besides,' he thought to himself, 'how strange can a toilet be?'

            "Gives me the willies," the maintenance chief stated as if he
       could read the Captain's thoughts.

            James gave him a half smile as he stepped around him, entered
       the restroom, and closed the door behind him.  Reaching behind his
       lower back, he pulled out his communicator and snapped it back,
       thus opening it.  He adjusted the frequency for tightest possible
       beam and aimed it towards Enterprise's relative position.  Before
       he could speak, his eyes caught a glimpse of the alien waste
       disposal unit.  His eyes widened as he tried to take in the view of
       the hideous, semi-organic, gurgling mass of, something?  Then the
       smell hit his nostrils.  His brain expanded to three times the
       diameter of his skull, or at least that's what it felt like to him.
       Then he heard a low moan coming from the unit and saw its plastic
       tubing, which seemed to be woven through the horrendously shaped
       mass, start to move.  He put his free hand up to his throbbing
       forehead and did an about-face to relieve the strain on his eyes.

            Jim twisted a knob on his communicator.  It beeped twice.  "K-
       Kirk to Enterprise," he managed to breathe.

            "Uhura here, Sir."

            "Uhura, I need you to search Starfleet personnel records on a
       Lieutenant Reudolpho or Randolfo, I can't remember which, Grensk.
       G-R-E-N-S-K," he spelled for her. "Presently attached to S.I. Age
       about thirty.  Get me everything you can on him and send it to my
       cabin."  He wiped the cold sweat from his brow.  "How's Mr. Scott
       coming with our propulsion unit?"

            "I don't know, Sir. He's climbed up into the access-way and we
       haven't heard from him since," she said.  "Is there anything

                                       PAGE 38








       else?"

            "Is there what?"  His head was pounding and his stomach was
       beginning to knot.  "Oh, no Lieutenant.  Kirk out."

            He replaced his communicator and made a straight shot for the
       door, not wanting another look at the freakish monstrosity.  As he
       stepped through the door, he quickly exhaled and gulped a breath of
       fresh air.

            The Maintenance Chief looked at him with a red face.  "Sorry,
       Sir, I should have given you an odor screen.  The ventilation isn't
       hooked up properly yet."

            "C-Carry on," he managed and made his way back down the
       corridor, trying to keep from staggering.









































                                       PAGE 39



                             ***    SEVEN    ***



            The Klingon cruiser Fury defolded from hyperspace followed
       closely by the Intruder's ship.  They were only on the rim of the
       territory claimed by the Klingonese, yet if traffic had not been
       diverted, they would have already encountered many spacefaring
       merchants, miners and trade vessels of all kinds.

            The Trinary System before them had been the agreed rendezvous
       site.  Specifically, they were to meet in orbit around the ninth
       planet of the system.  Kang stepped onto the bridge in full dress
       uniform.  This consisted of black armor and cape with the red
       family crest of his House of Klinzhai, on his chest.  His armor hid
       many weapons besides the disrupter that hung at his side.  He was
       prepared to meet his Emperor, whether to fight by his side or die
       at his hand, he could not tell.

            "We have arrived, my lord," spoke the Science Officer.

            "Do we have full power yet?"

            "No, my lord.  Power level is only at eighty percent," she
       responded.

            "Have repairs been completed on the cloaking device?" He took
       his chair of command and sat heavily in it.

            "No, lord Kang."

            "No?"  He turned his head in anger towards Mara.  He looked at
       her for a moment and regained his equanimity.  "It was to be
       completed before we broke light."  He could see her tremble
       slightly, trying to hide her concern for her husband.

            "The device failed incorporeality twice in simulation, Sir.
       At last report, its completion was near, but no definite timeframe
       was given.  I will apprise you when it is operational."

            "I do not suppose it will matter until we have full power
       restored.  Advise me when we have both."

            "Yes, my lord,"  'and my love', she added in her thoughts.

            It had been two standard days since the enemy had entered
       Klingon space and every moment weighed heavily on Kang.  In his
       crew, he could see a turmoil of emotions.  Some were afraid of the
       Emperor's anger at their failure.  Most were afraid of what the
       enemy had in store for the Empire, and all, including Kang himself,
       had a blind hatred for the foe.  Many strategies on how to battle
       the intruder were discussed, planned and discarded, for by
       Imperial command, the Fury was ordered to make no further attempts
       of aggression, a directive any Klingon would find most difficult
       to obey.  If not for his crew's fierce loyalty, he might have had
       mutiny in the ranks.  The greatest advantage to being named a 'Hero

                                       PAGE 40








       of the Empire', was being able to hand pick his ship's detail.
       They were more than a crew to him, they were a tempered force, a
       team.  They would, he was certain, follow him to the ends of the
       universe, if need be.  Just now, however, he did not feel worthy of
       their devotion.

            "Sir, long range scanners are registering five contacts.
       Distance, point eight, bearing seventy-two mark three.  It is the
       Imperial Command Ship and escort."

            "Gor, open a channel and stand by to receive."

            "Channel open, Sir," replied the communications officer.

            "Standard orbit achieved around Tukom Tal nine, Sir.  Intruder
       ensuing at eight kel's astern," said the helmsman.

            "Transmission coming in now sir," spoke Gor.

            "On screen," commanded Kang.

            The forward view of the planet they were now in orbit about,
       dissolved into the ominous presence of Klinzhai's greatest monarch.
       Kang rose from his command chair only to kneel before his Emperor.

            "Rise," spoke the Emperor to Kang, though strangely not quite
       in the form of a command.  Kang stood in silence before the image
       of his lord.  "Kang the Destructor, you return from your assignment
       without victory for your Emperor?"  Kang remained silent.  "Do you
       now await my wrath?" the Emperor inquired in his bass voice.

            "I expect it for myself and request my lord's mercy towards my
       crew."  He now awaited the death command.

            "Do you believe that you will serve my purposes better alive
       or dead?" He spoke in an even tone.

            "I have failed you, my Emperor, whatever your purposes."

            "I see no failure in realizing the need not to throw your life
       and that of your crew away.  Had Volte and Pakor not acted so
       rashly, they might have been able to share in our soon coming
       victory over the Federation."

            Kang held his peace, not knowing for sure if his life was to
       be spared or not.  He did know that whatever was stated by Tromok
       at this moment, could by no means be construed as irrevocable.

            "Commander Kang, by using your intelligence, and restraint,
       you have not only brought me the weapon our best scientists could
       not have conceived of developing, but an ally to my realm." the
       Emperor tossed a bejeweled ceremonial dagger to the floor, by his
       own feet.  "I give you back your life, and impart honors to you
       as well."

            Kang stood from the deck and with both hands to his side, he

                                       PAGE 41








       bowed his head.  "Thank you, my Emperor," he said stiffly,
       unaccustomed to gratitude, wary of flattery.  Had he turned his
       head, he would have seen Mara wiping a tear from her eye.

            "You will now fall back while I approach the escorted vessel
       behind you," the Emperor commanded.  Then Kang saw it.  It was the
       truth behind the words he had heard.  In the Emperor's eyes, rage.
       Rage at the terrible power Kang had loosed in his empire.  It was
       the reaction that Kang had expected from him all along.  Now it was
       confirmed. Kang inwardly began to prepare himself for his own
       death.

            "As you command, my lord," Kang said, and the screen went
       dark.  "Torvak, move us out slowly, but do not exceed photon
       distance from the enemy."  Kang walked back to his Science Officer.
       "We are not out of this yet, my wife," he whispered to her,
       confident of the fact.

            "He gave you your life, would he retreat from his word?" she
       asked under her breath.

            "Military men say many things they do not mean, while under
       enemy observation.  We will see how forgiving he really is when I
       present myself before him, officially and in private."  He rubbed
       her cheek with the back of his hand.  "He is going to try something.
       I do not know what, but he is doing his best to play the gentleman
       for our enemy's benefit."  He placed his hand behind her head and
       felt the softness of her hair.  "It is I who fear for his life now.
       And that of the Empire."




                                  *         *         *




            The four ships leading the Emperor's massive battle cruiser
       slowed, allowing it to pass between them.  Its size boasted of
       great power and its weaponry epitomized danger.  The intruder's
       ship paled before its presence, as it moved within five hundred
       meters to its broadside, then stopped.

            The Emperor observed his opponent's vessel on his view screen,
       noting all was as Kang had reported.  It was indeed an older class
       Starfleet ship, no longer bearing the markings of her commission.
       Only standard Federation registration numbers and running lights
       adorned her, with the name 'Fringe Ranger' lettered across her
       circular prow.

            "My liege, your guard awaits you in the main transporter
       room," the Captain of the Thunder announced.

            The Emperor donned his new pair of gloves and made sure his
       weapons belt.  He glanced over to Admiral Sorr, who saluted him

                                       PAGE 42








       with fist to chest, then arm extended.

            "You serve me well, Sorr.  Let every ship know that when I
       return, we will bring news of our victory back to Klinzhai, that
       they may see how none challenge their Emperor and triumph!"  With
       that, he turned on his heel and left for the transporter room.

            "Captain Kom,  I want all sensors on that ship until the
       Emperor returns.  If there is anything out of order, I want you to
       transport him back and reverse our course, at maximum warp.
       Understood?"

            "Understood, Admiral Sorr!"

            "Transporter room," the Admiral spoke into wall communicator.

            "Yes, Sir," responded the officer on duty.

            "The Emperor is on his way, take great care in what you do
       until he has safely returned!"

            "Yes, My lord!"

            "Now all we can do is sit."  He spoke again to the Captain.
       "Our triumph is near, if only it were sure," he reflected.  It was
       then that Sorr felt an irrational but powerful dread in his heart.
       He felt the deadly jaws of a trap close around his soul and he
       could do nothing but inwardly despair.



























                                       PAGE 43



                               ***    EIGHT   ****



            Captain's log, Stardate: 5850.3.

            We are 8 hours, 15 minutes from the planet Organia.  Our
       mission is contingent upon the answers I receive from the
       inhabitants of the planet.  To be an ambassador of good will or the
       weapon of their destruction will be decided in just nine hours.
       My crew is only aware of our destination.  I am sure that when I
       give the command for self-destruct, there will be questions that I
       am unable to answer, and fears I will be powerless to quell.

            Lieutenant Grensk, who is accompanying us on our voyage, is a
       puzzle I have yet to solve.  Uhura could find no record of his
       existence when I gave her instructions to investigate his history.
       No prior service records, nor credit holdings, not even birth
       records were uncovered, until 5 hours ago, when I instructed her to
       search again.  Then she found his complete file located where it
       clearly was not before.  I have had a peculiar feeling about
       Grensk, that I would have passed off as asocial behavior due to
       the lack of trust his superior had in me.  Notwithstanding, Spock
       noted a strangeness to him as well.  'As if he were Vulcanoid,
       masquerading as a human,' is how my First Officer put it.  Spock
       made several attempts to 'apparently' accidentally make physical
       contact with Grensk, in order to make passive mental reception of
       his thoughts, but Grensk has always managed to keep distance
       between them.

            Ship status: Against Chief Engineer Scott's advisement, we are
       at warp seven.  Mr Scott is still reporting a possibility of an
       uncontrolled antimatter implosion, if we keep up our present
       velocity.  Under my current orders, I have little choice but to
       have our speed maintained, though it is against my own personal
       judgement.  If we must, we can reduce speed to warp 5 and continue
       to use warp speed through the Organian solar system to the planet
       Organia.  Warp speed is inadvisable within the proximity of any
       gravitational influences, but we could still meet our deadline
       should we have to slow.

            In four hours the last of the fleet should be arriving just
       beyond sensor range of the Klingon Side of the Neutral Zone.  My
       greatest fear is not in the possibility of our destroying Organia
       under orders, for I do not believe we have the power to do so.  But
       our very presence might either provoke them to anger or cause them
       to remove all restraints from both treaty sides, allowing an inter-
       galactic war, to which there would be no winner.

            The Federation is hanging off a ledge, and my actions may be
       the force that pushes it over the brink.

            End Log.



                                  *         *         *

                                       PAGE 44







            James T. Kirk heard the cabin chime and allowed it to ring
       twice, in case, he hoped, it rang by mistake.  On the second ring,
       he merely said, "Come."

            Both Spock and Dr. McCoy entered as Jim lifted himself from
       his desk to meet them.

            "Captain," Spock began, but was immediately cut off by McCoy.

            "Jim, we've got a problem." the Doctor corrected himself,
       "Make that a Big Problem!"

            "Not another one," Jim stated tiredly, sitting back down and
       turning his chair to face the two.  "This isn't my week."

            "Jim, Spock told me of the suspicion you were having about
       that S.I. officer you have watching you.  At first I thought you
       both were acting a bit paranoid, but Spock convinced me to follow
       him with my medi-scanner in hand and take a reading while Spock had
       him occupied."

            "So, what's the Verdict?  Is he Vulcan, Romulan or just a
       flake?"

            "None of the above, Jim...  He's an android."

            "An android?  Bones, are you sure?"

            "Not merely an android, Captain." Spock found an opening in
       the conversation before McCoy could completely misinform him.  "He
       is a modified R-D-I combat android from the planet Tolmera.  During
       the Tolmerian wars, the automaton was considered an excellent
       killing machine.  Supposedly, the last of them had been destroyed
       or dissassembled in accordance with the terms of the armistice
       pact.  I suspect that not only is that an inaccurate fact, but it
       seems that certain members of Starfleet have taken it upon
       themselves to put at least one of them to use in a probable
       suicide mission."

            "Suicide mission?  Spock, this isn't supposed to be a suicide
       mission!"  Jim felt a cold needle-like jab in his stomach.  Fear.

            "Perhaps not for us Captain," stated Spock, "albeit, I believe
       we have evidence that Commodore Stormcloud had an ulterior motive
       for sending it, rather than to observe you."

            "You mentioned suicide mission, Spock.  What could the android
       do that we weren't already ordered to do?  Make sure there are no
       witnesses to the extermination of the Organians?" Jim asked.

            "I do not know exactly what the android's mission entails.
       Suffice to say, he is completely capable of destroying the planet
       Organia by himself."

            "Tell him why, you pointed ear pixie, or are you waiting for


                                       PAGE 45








       the movie to come out!"  McCoy was full of old Earth expressions.

            "I believe that I was in the process of explaining myself,
       when you..."

            "Spock, just tell me!" Jim said impatiently.

            "Captain, do you recall the Commodore stating that he had
       accounted for every grain of the Garth explosive that was removed
       from Elba II for purposes of experimentation?" Spock queried.

            "Yes Spock, continue."

            "The Commodore neglected to mention the fact that 'every grain
       accounted for' had been placed in a detonation encasement lodged in
       the chest of our Mr. Grensk," Spock concluded.

            "This is definitely not my week," Jim said dejectedly.  "The
       Commodore's 'insurance policy'," he said remembering the words of
       Stormcloud.

            "Apparently," agreed Spock.

            "So that's why we were to take the shuttlecraft down to the
       planet, instead of transporting down."  Jim rubbed his chin.  "The
       substance can't be transported."

            "Now that I know this much, would ya mind filling me in on
       what the heck we are going to Organia for?" the Doctor said.

            "I'm afraid I've said too much already, Bones."

            "That's great!  We're headed for a planet that may or may not
       be destroyed by a walking time-bomb, which may or may not take us
       with it, and you still think you should keep your Chief Medical
       Officer in the dark about why!" McCoy said angrily.

            "Orders," Jim simply said, then added, "Sorry, Bones."

            "Well then, if you'll excuse me, I'll go back to sickbay.  At
       least I know what's going on down there." He turned to leave.

            "Not so fast, Bones."  Jim grabbed his arm, "I may not be able
       to tell you everything about our mission, but I might need your help
       in dealing with our mechanical Starfleet officer."

            "I'm a doctor, not the bomb-squad!" he countered, fidgeting
       with his uniform.

            "If I may, Captain," Spock broke in. "We are due on the bridge
       in four point eight minutes.  Perhaps we could continue with Doctor
       McCoy's meaningless banter afterwards."

            "Why you copper blooded..."

            "Bones!" Jim interrupted, "Spock's right.  We have to go.  You

                                       PAGE 46








       go on to sickbay and we'll join you in about 15 minutes and see if
       we can come up with something that will help."

            McCoy looked at Spock, opened his mouth to speak, closed it,
       rolled his eyes while shaking his head and walked out of Jim's cabin.





                                   *         *         *





            Uhura was sitting relaxed, at her station, monitoring blank
       channels.  She had little to do since the communications blackout
       had been issued.  She hummed softly to herself and rotated her
       chair to look at the forward viewscreen's depiction of the stars
       in front of them.  She looked down at Sulu and Checkov, who were
       smiling as they quietly exchanged jokes.

            They were not unconcerned with the current events which had
       forced them toward their destination.  They were aware that it was
       a priority mission and that the details could only be given on a
       'need to know' basis, which caused even greater concern among them.
       On the surface, the bridge crew seemed to have its normal, though
       with no Captain on deck, more casual, "high" morale.  Underneath,
       however, the tension escalated with every kilometer gained towards
       Organia.

            The turbo-lift doors opened and out of it stepped Lieutenant
       Grensk.  He looked at the empty captain's chair and registered to
       himself that Sulu must have console command.  "Mr.  Sulu, where is
       Captain Kirk?"

            Sulu faced the lieutenant, "He is in his cabin, and left word
       that he is not to be disturbed..." he said, "By you," he added a
       little too cheerfully.

            "We are now 8 hours and 47 seconds from destination orbit, are
       we not?" questioned the android.

            Sulu looked at the chronometer and without showing his
       surprise at Grensk's accuracy, he said, "Eight hours, forty-one
       seconds, mark."

            "Lieutenant Uhura, please contact Captain Kirk and inform him
       that his presence is urgently required on the bridge," spoke
       Grensk, unemotionally.

            The lift opened again, as Captain Kirk and Spock entered,
       before Grensk completed his sentence.

            "Belay that, Uhura," Jim said as he and Spock walked over to

                                       PAGE 47








       the ship's emergency console.  "Computer, this is Captain James T.
       Kirk, engage auto-destruct program, version A7."

            "Working," spoke the familiar female voice. "Encoded Nine
       hours to destruct from final sequence."

            The lift doors parted once again, allowing Chief Engineer
       Montgomery Scott to exit it.  He promptly joined the others at the
       console.

            The significance of the Captain's command caught everyone's
       attention and caused several worried looks to be exchanged.

            "Good of you to join us, Mr. Scott," the Captain greeted
       Scotty.

            "Good?  I wouldna call riggin ma engines to blow 'good',
       Captain.  In fact, I've been spendin the past two days tryin to
       keep em from doin just that."

            "Awaiting initiation code from Captain James T. Kirk," the
       computer prompted.

            "Understood, Mr. Scott, but you don't think we'd be here if I
       wasn't under orders or the situation didn't necessitate it?"

            "Does the Captain wish to cancel auto-destruct procedures?"
       the computer queried.

            "Negative," Jim lied to the computer as he rested his eyes on
       the Intelligence Officer across the room.

            Jim spoke his code into the console, without taking his eyes
       off the lieutenant.  Spock identified himself and spoke his part to
       the computer, followed by Mr. Scott in turn.

            "Awaiting the final sequence for auto-destruct," it announced.

            "Computer, this is Captain James T. Kirk, initiate final
       sequence, code zero, zero, zero, destruct, A7, zero," he said.

            The computer beeped 3 times and stated, "Nine hours from
       destruct," and became silent, awaiting eight 60 minute intervals to
       announce the hourly countdown.  It would give a count by minutes at
       the last hour and by seconds at T minus one minute to destruct.

            Jim straightened himself and turned from the lieutenant to
       Uhura.  "Has communications silence been broken by anyone?"

            "No, Sir, all channels are clear," she responded
       professionally, not betraying her fear.

            Jim stepped down to his chair of command and snapped the
       intra-ship comm button to open.  "This is the Captain.  Though I
       am under orders not to disclose the details of our mission, it is my
       is my prerogative to inform you that the Enterprise is currently in

                                       PAGE 48








       countdown for destruct.  We have almost 9 hours to countermand the
       order, but in the event that I deem it necessary to allow it to
       complete, Uhura will give the evacuation code and all hands will
       report to their assigned shuttle craft for emergency
       disembarkation.  You will have no less than twenty minutes to
       report and launch, so there will not be any need to worry, or
       stampede.  I'll keep you posted if the situation changes.  Captain
       out."  He depressed the button again with the bottom of his fist
       and closed the comm.  channel.  Just as quickly as the flip of the
       switch, an idea came to him.

            "Mr. Scott, have your men finished cleaning and inspecting
       the propulsion units on all our shuttles yet?" Jim asked.

            "No sir, but we should ha them done by 0900."

            "That will give me two hours clear before I need one." He
       paused to glance at Grensk again.  "Mr. Scott," he continued, "how
       long will it take to refuel, restock fresh supplies, emergency
       units, recalibrate all sensors and life support systems and check
       structural integrity of all shuttles?  By the book!" he
       emphasized.

            "Well, Sir, with all ma men workin without breaks, I'd guess
       about three more hours added to the first estimate.  1200 hours.
       Just about the time Enterprise is set to blow, Sir," the Scotsman
       said.

            "According to regulations, we are required to have them in
       that state of readiness in the event of evacuation.  Isn't that
       correct, Mr. Grensk?"

            Lieutenant Grensk was unaware that the Captain was speaking to
       him, until his name was mentioned.  He snapped his head up to face
       the Captain and replayed the question to himself.  "That is
       correct, Captain. However,"

            "It appears we will have to, in the interest of adhering to
       Starfleet regs. concerning the safety of my crew, forego the
       Commodore's personal order to use the shuttle craft as
       transportation to the planet," Jim said, smiling inwardly but
       intoning his voice to express sadness at having to disobey the
       Commodore's order.

            "But Sir," the lieutenant stressed unemotionally, "the
       Commodore specifically,"

            "Lieutenant," Spock interrupted. "You of all people would not
       insinuate that the Commodore would order a Starfleet Captain to
       violate standing Starfleet orders," he stated as if it were a
       foregone conclusion, not a question.

            "No, Sir," he responded to the First Officer.  "Captain, I
       would like to offer my services to Mr. Scott to expedite the
       preparation of one craft, in time for planetfall."


                                       PAGE 49








            "Request denied.  That would keep you from the duties assigned
       you by the Commodore.  Whatever they are."  Kirk rested back into
       his chair, as if he intended to remain there.  "Besides, I don't
       want you getting under foot of Mr. Scott's repair detail."

            "But Sir, I am fully rated on,"

            "That will be all Lieutenant," Jim silenced him abruptly.

            "Aye, Sir," responded Grensk.  "Permission to leave the
       bridge?"

            "Granted," said Kirk and all eyes, many quite curious,
       followed Grensk's exit.

            "Mr. Scott, get your men started and keep an eye out for
       anything suspicious."

            "Aye, Sir," Scotty said and exited the bridge.

            "Uhura, have Security post four guards around the shuttlebay,
       with instructions not to allow Lieutenant Grensk admittance," Jim
       said, then added, "Tell Security that phasers are not to be issued
       to the guards."

            "Right away, Sir," she said as she pondered the meaning of his
       command.

            "Mr. Spock," Kirk said as he lifted himself from the chair, "I
       believe we have a date to keep in sickbay.  Mr.  Checkov, the
       con is yours."

            "Aye, Keptin," Checkov said eagerly, unable to restrain the
       joy from his voice.  To him it was a rare and precious thing to sit
       in the command chair of the Enterprise.  Few would disagree.

            The lift doors closed behind the Captain and Spock.

            "What do you suppose that is all about?" queried Uhura.

            "I don't know," spoke Sulu, "but the plot's thickening."
















                                       PAGE 50



                              ***    NINE    ***




            The Imperial Throneship Thunder dwarfed by far the brave
       vessel from Federation space.  Blinking running lights were the
       only sign that these ships were under power and at the ready to
       enter battle on any given moment.  The invisible deflector screens
       of both ships dropped simultaneously, on cue, as they reached the
       pre-arranged transfer point.  Like two silent statues, they
       remained motionless, dispassionate to the rest of the universe.

            The Emperor stood on the dimly lit transporter platform with a
       guard on each side and a third directly behind, with his back
       towards the Emperor.  All but the Klingon monarch had weapons
       drawn, as they prepared for the dissimilation of their atoms and
       their arrival on enemy's figurative soil.

            "rIH ,jol!", the Emperor commanded his transporter chief in
       their native tongue.

            The transporter field wave caught the four men, transferring
       them, body, soul and spirit, into the unknown.  In literally 'no-
       time' for the Emperor, he found himself squinting in the bright
       transporter room of his enemy.  Before him stood a tall, lean, blue-
       skinned Andorian, who bowed low to him and righted himself once
       again.

            The Andorian took one step towards the transporter platform.
       "Emperor Tromok of the Klingon Realm, my lord bids you greetings
       and welc... "

            The Emperor dove at the Andorian, knocking him to the floor
       and pinning him there.  With a speed that belied his massiveness,
       he pulled a dagger from his wrist-band and held it to his
       opponent's azure throat.  "What treachery is this?", Tromok spoke
       in a deep and deadly voice, "Where are my guards?".  He and the
       Andorian were alone in the transporter room.

            "They are suspended in transit," the Andorian whispered as the
       pressure from the blade on his windpipe, would not allow volume.
       "They are well, I swear.  My master sent me, unarmed, to escort you
       to him."

            "He betrays our agreement, and you will pay the price."

            "He does not, Sir," the Andorian whispered as boldly as
       possible.  "He allowed you three escorts on board.  You have three
       and they are on board... technically," he said as his antennae
       began to droop.

            "Now answer me this and choose your words with care, or you
       shall surely die.  Why has 'your lord' practiced this deceit?"

            "He thought it prudent to keep," he took a shallow breath,

                                       PAGE 51








       "to keep our guards separate to," another breath, "ensure that no
       hostile action might,"  The Emperor lessened the pressure to
       allow the Andorian to finish his speech before passing out.  "might
       erupt between your guards and ours.  He wanted control of the
       situation to be between you and him.  'At the top', so to speak."

            The Emperor understandably did not believe that this was the
       whole truth, an element of it perhaps, but he knew there was more.
       The stakes were too high for him to back out now.  In the least, he
       would lose his life.  At most he would lose his honor, an
       experience he never wanted to face again.

            The Emperor lifted himself off the Andorian and with his free
       hand, grabbed the man by the back of his shaggy white hair, pulling
       him to his feet.  He forced him against the wall and replaced the
       dagger to its sheath hidden in his wristband.

            "You will instruct your Master to let me speak to my ship.
       They will detect that I am alone and attack at any moment."

            "The transporter has been modified to allow your guard's life
       signs to emanate from within the system.  Your ship has not lost
       contact with them.  They merely cannot get a direct fix on them,"
       the Andorian said, still heaving air in and out of his lungs.

            Tromok checked his rage that was building up within him... for
       the moment.  He was in a trap with every exit leading to
       destruction.  All but one.  The one he was being maneuvered into by
       his enemy.  'It is said,' he thought to himself, 'that sometimes
       the only way out is through.  Very well.  I am still the predator
       here.  The trap will be my own!' He felt the mechanism inside his
       glove, giving him the confidence of one who is prepared for the
       worst.

            "Very well, lead me to your master," spoke the Emperor of
       Klinzhai.

            "Yes, Your Majesty."

            The Emperor released him and let him step away to catch his
       breath until he was able to comply.  The Andorian calmly turned and
       proceeded to the exit.  Tromok followed, keeping no further than a
       meter between himself and his escort.

            They made their way down the hall to a turbo-shaft, then up
       two decks and out to another hall, looking identical to the first.
       There were no other crewmen to be seen by the Klingon Monarch.  No
       muffled voices, no other sounds than that of the ship itself and
       the footsteps the two made.  He strained his ears to hear the
       rustle of clothing or the quiet breathing of an assassin possibly
       behind any door.  He could detect nothing, but tensed himself
       against the unexpected anyway.

            The Andorain stopped short of a double door entrance marked
       'Conference Room One' and stepped aside to allow the Emperor to
       pass.  He bowed low again and extended his blue hand, indicating to

                                       PAGE 52








       the Klingon that he may now enter.

            It would be a sign of weakness to force the Andorian to enter
       first but at the moment of Tromok's hesitation, the double doors
       parted.  They revealed a long table with a massive chair at the far
       end.  The figure seated in the chair rose to reveal his own
       impressive stature.  His short light brown hair with streaks of
       grey, his posture and stance, his purple robe and even his eyes
       spoke of nobility and power embodied within.

            "Mocdar Jek Tromok, Emperor of all the realm of Klinzhai,
       welcome to my humble ship," he said with grace and a formal bow of
       his own.

            The Emperor stepped through the door which closed behind him.
       "And who is it that bids me welcome?" Tromok rumbled.

            "The man who offers a galaxy," he said and placed both hands
       on his hips.  "I also offer you my hospitality.  Please be seated."

            The Emperor remained standing.  "Klingons do not sit with the
       enemy.  Their Emperor makes no exception."  He too placed his hands
       on his hips, facing his foe.  His cape fanned out over his
       shoulders and spilled down to the ground.  "Unless I am convinced
       otherwise, I will stand," his deep voice challenged.

            "Very well," the host smiled as if he regarded the Emperor as
       merely charming.  "Might his Highness consider a truce until our
       positions are established?"

            The monarch considered this for a moment, knowing some
       semblance of progress must be made.  "Agreed," he stated and eased
       himself into the chair designed for a smaller boned human.  He
       pressed a button in his gloved hand and felt a tiny comforting
       click.

            "I assume that you have already decided on an offer for my
       weapon?  Possibly several counteroffers, if the first is
       unacceptable to me?" the Host spoke, as he sat back in his own
       chair, draping his right leg over the cushioned arm.  He looked
       thoroughly comfortable and nonchalant.

            "Before we bargain," the Emperor looked steadfastly into his
       host's hazel eyes, "I would know your name," he demanded.

            A smile that could charm a roaring volcano spread across the
       enemy's handsome face, "Of course you would," he said most amiably.
       "My name is well established throughout the known universe."

            "Enough!" the Emperor stood to his feet, toppling his chair
       behind him.  With lightning speed he produced a small disrupter
       that was hidden in the small of his back.  He aimed it at his
       opponent's midsection.  "I will kill you without your name!" he
       bellowed.

            The smile never left the host's face, though he did raise an

                                       PAGE 53








       eyebrow at the Emperor's speed and shortness of temper.  "It is my
       race's custom, granted an out of date one, to allow a last word to
       be spoken by the one who is about to be... 'deceased'."

            "I have no constraints to such a custom."

            "This 'is' my ship," the enemy simply offered.

            "So be it.  I am not without honor, however, if I detect the
       slightest flinch, you will be indistinguishable from the dust of
       your vaporized chair."

            "Understood."

            "Speak then, this 'last word'," the Emperor commanded.

            "Your disrupter is... empty."

            The Emperor depressed the firing button. Nothing happened.

            "I ordered the Andorian who escorted you, to lock on to all
       close proximity power sources, which might be used in a weapon, and
       transport them to me."  With his left hand he produced two small
       power cells of differing size from his breast pocket and set them
       on the table before him.  "I know that this first energy pack is
       the one you assumed to be powering your disrupter.  I am, however,
       at a loss as to what 'this' power cell was used for," he said,
       indicating the smaller of the two."

            The Emperor felt an intense pang in his stomach, realizing the
       sonic synthesizer hidden in his glove, was as useless as the weapon
       that was still pointed at his host.

            "No matter," said the Host, obviously in complete control of
       the situation.  To stress the fact, he casually drew a weapon of
       his own, not aiming it but merely letting his guest understand that
       there may be a limit to his hospitality.  "Please sit now, and you
       may yet find the answers to your many questions."

            "I will sit." He dropped his weapon to the floor and slowly
       righted his chair, "but I am weary of the games you play."  He was
       in a mild state of shock at being so easily outwitted by the man.
       "You demanded my presence.  Very well, I am here.  All I need now is
       to know your price."  He sat and faced his host, concealing his
       fury and his shame.

            "I have a price... and it is high, but I will not yet name it.
       And though I will not compromise, I am still curious as to what you
       intended to offer me."

            "I offer you first, your life.  Make no mistake, that will be
       the first thing you will lose if I do not return to my ship.
       Whatever else it costs us."

            "No doubt, but continue," he said.  His patience seemed to
       have no end, but the Emperor was not deceived.  He knew a fellow

                                       PAGE 54








       warrior, and was feeling nothing but danger from the man across
       from him.

            "I offer you second, a planet to rule under me.  You will
       preside over all affairs that you deem worthy, and you may
       establish any laws of your choice, as long as you remain loyal to
       the Klingon Empire.  Which is the third part to my offer.  In so
       swearing your loyalty, an oath not to be taken lightly, I will
       provide two fully armed battle cruisers for your personal
       protection.  You may use them as planetary defense against any
       intruder who is not also loyal to me."

            "That is, indeed, a grand offer," said the host with a nod of
       his head.  "If I were, per chance, a less ambitious man, I would
       consider accepting it."  He stroked his grey temple with his middle
       finger.  "It is good but it is not my price."

            The Emperor's face shone red and his jaw muscles flexed
       visibly through his cheeks as he clenched his teeth.  He knew his
       own patience was required, but to expect a Klingon, and not just
       any Klingon, to endure the arrogance of this man was requiring too
       much.  "What is your price?" he asked between his teeth, debating
       if he actually wanted to know.  If nothing else, he would agree to
       all concessions, make and receive payment, and then obliterate this
       pompous 'targ', if he had to destroy a planet from beneath his feet
       to do it.

            "I, lord Tromok, am a ruler without an empire of my own.
       They say 'a king, less his kingdom rules an imbecile.'"  His
       countenance grew suddenly cold as he forced himself to remember
       his past and likewise prepare for the revelation that he would
       now bestow upon the Klingon Emperor.  "I had recently launched a
       campaign against the Federation, the very first stage mind you,
       only to have it thwarted by a man I would rather have fought beside
       than against." His own anger began to emerge as he spoke of his
       past.  "I am hardly finished with Starfleet, but there is an old
       Klingon proverb that seems to be quite appropriate: 'If you cannot
       lead your own camp... lead your enemy's'."  He stopped for a moment
       to see if his meaning was comprehended.

            The Emperor barely heard the words spoken to him.  "If you
       have mentioned your demand, I have not heard it," he said darkly.

            "My price is the Klingon Empire!"

            "Then you do rule an imbecile," the Emperor spat hotly.  "I am
       supreme here, and you... you are merely an inconvenience."  Tromok
       restrained himself from reaching for his dagger.  "You are mad if
       you think you could wrest my throne from me.  And if you intend to
       kill me to get it, you are welcome to try.  My ships will destroy
       you, and many more are on the way."  He looked at the weapon now
       aimed at him.   "As hostage I am no good to you either.  My men
       will follow my orders and consider me dead.  My brother will of
       course, inherit my title.  The end result will be the same for
       you... death."


                                       PAGE 55








            "There are more ways to gain the Empire than you have named,
       and that is my riddle.  Nevertheless, even that is not my final
       goal."  He slowly raised himself from the chair, eyes and weapon
       never wavering.  "You still do not know with whom you are dealing."

            "Not for lack of effort, though I am sure it is a strain for
       one so boastful, to keep it a secret as long as you have."

            The Host chuckled briefly at that.  "I did not know the
       Klingon Emperor had a sense of humor," he said with a smile.
       "Do you also have a sense of irony?" he posed.

            The Emperor said nothing.  He wished to stall but never to
       play the fool.

            "No answer?" he asked, holstering his weapon and leaning
       towards the Emperor with both hands on the table.  "Then let me
       explain myself with a brief tale."  His smile faded.

            "Years ago... no," he started again. "A lifetime ago, there
       was a brave Starship Captain.  The first Starship Captain." It
       seemed painful for him to speak but he continued. "Long before
       we had the Neutral Zone, Organian Peace Treaties or cloaking
       devices to complicate life, this lone Captain and a hand-picked
       crew set out in their new Starship on a brave mission:  The
       Exploration of Space. It was given to him to extend the hand of
       friendship to other spacefaring races and invite them to take
       their place of honor in a United Federation of Planets."

            "With nothing but a faithful crew and the shining Prime
       Directive, this Captain guided his noble vessel farther than any
       ship in the Federation had ever ventured.  After weeks of
       exploration in this distant part of the galaxy, the Captain
       encountered,  for the first time since the Hundred Years War, a
       race of beings who were as proficient in their technology as they
       were in their ruthlessness."  His eyes narrowed as they penetrated
       the Emperor.  "But now I am getting ahead of myself," he
       interrupted, then continued the tale.

            "The Starship first had made contact with intelligent life on
       a planet not far from where we are now.  The Captain spent weeks in
       peaceful negotiations and in the exchange of cultural information
       with the new-found alien friends who called themselves the Bak'i.
       When it became time to depart from the planet, the Captain bid them
       farewell and began his return to the Earth, with a promising new
       addition to the Federation."

           "However, while the Starship was leaving, they detected three
       spacecraft approaching their new friend's solar system.  Motivated
       by curiosity, the Starship turned around, back to the world they
       had just visited.  Upon arrival, they found that the entire surface
       of the planet had been laid waste.  Not one Bak'i had survived
       the terrible holocaust.  Three armed warships had made short work
       of their entire world."

            "When the Captain of the Starship attempted to hail the three

                                       PAGE 56








       invading warships, in order to understand the action that had been
       taken, the warships opened fire.  They were Klingon warships."

            The Emperor's face seemed to hint of recognition of the story,
       from a memory long forgotten, or perhaps one he wished had been so.

            "It was a time when our shields had been stronger than our
       weapons.  The battle raged for hours, particle-static beams and
       focused radiation, inflicting more damage on men than on machinery.
       The Captain was on the verge of hopelessness, when he managed to
       destroy one of the Klingon warships." The Host erected himself. His
       countenance became cold in remembrance of the lives lost afterward
       by slow radiation poisoning, during the long dark voyage home.

            "With one ship lost to the void, and no outward sign of damage
       to the Federation Starship, the second Klingon vessel turned tail
       and fled.  The odds were then even.

            "Yes," the Emperor whispered, transfixed by his own images of
       the long ago battle.  Though seeing it from another perspective
       than that of his enemy.

            "Again the ships clashed, until the Federation ship's weaponry
       became useless, drained of energy and damaged beyond any hope of
       repair.  The Captain ordered all power to his foreword shields,
       said a prayer, and began one final charge at his opponent.  The
       Starfleet Captain expected to die in the collision of the two
       ships, but before the impact could be consummated, the ship from
       the Empire gave her ground and took flight to parts unknown."  He
       folded his arms across his chest.  "But not unknown to you,
       Emperor Tromok," he spoke in anger.  "Do you still remember the
       words spoken from your own boastful lips, when the Starfleet
       Captain attempted to explain his peaceful intentions?"  He let his
       guest search his memory for a moment.  "Do you recall the vow I
       made to you, as you ordered your ship's retreat?"

            "You?" Tromok said in astonishment.

            "Then, you were merely the eldest 'son' of the Emperor of
       Klinzhai, now the Empire is yours, and I will finally make good
       on my vow."  A cold smile slowly crept upon his lips, from the
       corners of his mouth.  "Do you remember me now, Emperor of
       Klinzhai?"

            "I remember," he rumbled and slowly rose to his feet.  "I had
       not known defeat but for you."  His voice became a growl, his
       muscles tensed, "You are the secret shame I have kept hidden, even
       from myself, for these many years."

            The man reproduced his weapon, leisurely but with purpose.  He
       slowly aimed it at the Klingon.  "Then my name still has meaning in
       the Klingon Empire?" Strangely, the man lowered the weapon and
       placed it on the long table before him, as if to challenge the
       Klingon.  "I told you that you would fear the day when next our
       swords would cross, that you would ever fear the name of Garth of
       Izar!"

                                       PAGE 57








            With a roar from the depths of his soul, the Emperor toppled
       the long heavy table on to its side, sending Garth's phaser
       clattering across the floor.  Deciding in an instant that the
       weapon was too far to reach, the Emperor threw himself the distance
       between his enemy and himself.  He hit Garth in his midsection,
       like a projectile, taking him to the floor.

            Garth was at the ready when the Emperor lunged at him and
       rolled with the momentum and mass thrust upon him, tossing the
       Klingon off and into the wall behind him.  Garth was to his feet
       first but allowed his guest to also rise, savoring the
       confrontation he had long awaited, not desiring too soon an end to
       it.

            "It is good to see the Emperor is still a warrior," Garth
       said, paying tribute to his foe.

            "To the death," Tromok said as he lifted his bulk off the
       polished deck.

            "Not so, your Majesty," he said mockingly.  "I do not intend
       to kill you, and I am certain that you shall not kill me."  Garth
       squared himself off from his opponent, now ready to continue the
       battle.

            The Emperor feigned left, then right and jabbed quickly with
       his left fist, connecting only with air.  Garth dodged the second
       blow as well, and responded with a hard chop to the Emperor's neck,
       bringing him to his knees.  The Klingon, partly dazed by the chop
       that would have knocked an ordinary man out, looked up at Garth in
       rage.  Tromok pondered to himself for a moment why his enemy took
       no advantage at a downed foe.  He lifted himself again, growling
       like an animal gone mad.

            Garth moved first, with a punch to the Emperor's heavy jaw,
       then one to his stomach, when, with remarkable speed, the Emperor
       caught Garth's wrist and placed a strong hand to his throat.  The
       Emperor slowly, powerfully, squeezed his enemy's neck with a
       wolfish grin, and drew Garth close.  "Now, you are mine!" he
       whispered.

            Garth grabbed the hand at his throat and centimeter by
       centimeter, pulled it away, his muscles straining against Emperor
       Tromok's for control.  Both with feet firmly planted on the deck,
       the struggle became one of brute force.  'Victory to the strong',
       as a Klingon would say.

            They stood face to face.  Both red with the exertion of their
       strength, neither giving in.  One force irresistible, the other
       immovable and both committed to the defeat of the other.

            "You will lose!" said the Klingon Emperor through clenched
       teeth.

            "Not at your hand," promised Garth.


                                       PAGE 58








            The seconds that they spent in battle were years of desired
       revenge nearing fulfillment.  Neither would admit the thought of
       defeat into their minds, though clearly, only one would stand when
       they were done.

            "Now," Garth strained, "the tide turns."  And with his final
       effort, he forced Emperor Mocdar Jek Tromok to his physical limit,
       then pulled him with all that was in him.  The might of the Klingon
       was used against himself as Garth yanked backwards with all his
       strength, fairly throwing the Emperor against the bulkhead, a full
       fifteen feet behind him.

            The Klingonese monarch sank to the floor unconscious, as Garth
       slowly walked towards his downed enemy, gulping breaths as he came.
       He kneeled beside this fallen warrior, and pressed two fingers
       against the Emperor's pulmonary artery to be sure he still lived.
       Satisfied, he rose, gathered his phaser and depressed a button on
       his belt.

            The only doors to the room parted and the Andorian, carrying a
       medical bag, entered through them.

            "Revive him," commanded Garth, "And place the stasis cuffs on
       him or he may accidentally kill you as he regains his wits."

            "Yes, lord Garth," the blue man replied.  He reached into his
       medical bag and produced a Doctor's spray hypo.  He placed a small
       yellow canister into the instrument, set the dosage to 20
       milliliters, and injected the substance into the Klingon's neck.
       Grasping both wrists, the acting physician placed the energy bonds
       around them as the Emperor's eyes began to flutter.

            The Emperor, not feeling at all well, opened his eyes for a
       moment, then realizing that they were not focusing, blinked several
       times to clear them.  Immediately he became aware of his
       surroundings and of the fact that he was temporarily immobilized.
       He looked up to see the man standing across the room from him, to
       his astonishment.  Tromok closed his eyes again at the man he saw.
       'Surely,' he thought, 'my mind plays tricks!'  He opened them once
       again and saw that the vision had not changed.  Directly across
       from him, standing majestically in royal robes, was the Emperor
       of all Klinzhai.

            The vision smiled.  "You see," Garth said in the voice of the
       Klingon monarch, "I never had the need to strike any bargain, never
       needed anything from you, but 'you'."

            "You can not do this!" spoke the Emperor, almost breaking before
       his enemy, as his heart sank, for he knew that if there was anyone in
       the universe who could wrest the Empire from him, it was this man.
       The man that wore his face.

            "It is already done!" boasted Garth.  "But be of good cheer,
       for I am not finished with you nor the galaxy yet!" He strode over
       to his double.  "You see," he spoke, kneeling beside the former
       Emperor, "there is something I know about the Organian Peace Treaty

                                       PAGE 59








       that neither you nor my Federation seem to be aware of."  He smiled
       a dangerous smile.  "But that is another riddle," he said.  Rising
       from Tromok and turning towards the exit, he began to laugh.  He
       left the room, his laughter echoing down the corridors, silenced
       only when the doors shut behind him.




















































                                       PAGE 60



                                 ***    TEN    ***



            The white streak that was Enterprise blazed like a stray bolt
       of lightning through the vacuum of space.  She was on a heading
       that would bring her into a still-disputed area of the galaxy.  The
       Federation claimed it.  The Klingon Empire claimed it, but the
       Organians controlled it and named it the Neutral Zone.  Hence,
       ownership of any tract of space or any planet within that region
       must be acquired by peaceful, productive occupation.  This was in
       accordance with the treaty signed by both claimants.  Violent
       aggression by either party was forbidden, and would, by the self-
       appointed arbitrators / enforcers, be stopped.

            Since the initiation of the treaty, both camps had made
       attempts to stretch the limits of the contract, to no effect.  The
       Treaty was ironclad.  Adherence to it was not an option.  In
       addition, it was agreed that Organia, as a planet and a people, was
       to be left alone... until now.

            James T. Kirk occupied the center seat.  He waited for the
       inevitable.  The weight of the Captaincy was never heavier on his
       shoulders than at this moment.  His orders to approach the planet
       in the solar-system ahead of him was a violation of Treaty.  His
       orders to set his ship for self-destruct was a violation of his
       conscience.  And yet he still waited for the inevitable.

            The meeting Jim had called in sickbay with McCoy and Spock
       was an exercise in futility.  The danger still roamed his ship.  To
       attempt to incapacitate the Grensk android would be difficult even
       if it was not conducive to exploding.  The android had far superior
       strength to that of even a Vulcan.  Every plan that they discussed
       or formulated put all aboard in jeopardy.  To leave Grensk to his
       own devices placed the ship in no less a perilous position, but it
       did give them a timeframe within which to work.  They used to call
       his predicament a 'catch twenty-two, Jim recalled.

            Jim looked at the chronometer in the arm of his chair.  "Mr.
       Sulu, shouldn't we be reaching the system perimeter soon?"

            "Aye, Sir, coming up on it in about eight minutes." Sulu spoke
       calmly.

            "Prepare to power down to impulse, point 9, in about eight
       min..." Jim shut his mouth and grabbed both sides of his chair.  He
       could feel something vibrating subtly for just a moment.  It
       stopped.  He sat still to see if it would happen again.  Then the
       whole ship began to shudder violently.

            Jim hit his comm button.  "Kirk to Engineering, Scotty,
       what's the problem?" he asked urgently.  The shudder became more
       pronounced.  "Mr. Scott!"  No answer.  Spock quickly moved over to
       the engineer's console.

            "Captain," Spock announced, "the port nacelle is beginning to

                                       PAGE 61








       buckle, all readings are peaking in the red."

            "Sulu!" Jim started, but before he could finish his sentence,
       the ship pitched to port, and the Enterprise began to maneuver in
       an irregular, large spiral, her inertia dampeners and starboard
       engine began to whine.

            Holding onto the corner of the console, the helmsman tried to
       reach for the controls, fighting like the rest of the crew against
       the powerful centrifugal force.  Straining, he managed to get a
       finger on the correct button, and pressed the emergency shut-off
       switch.  The starboard engine went silent and Sulu was able to
       engage braking thrusters.

            "All stop, Sulu."  Perspiration beaded on the Captain's
       forehead.

            "Slowing, Sir," spoke Sulu, equally sweaty.

            Uhura turned from her station. "Captain, damage control is
       reporting a fire in engineering, and something about an explosion!"

            Jim punched the communication button again, "Kirk to
       Engineering," static was all he received.  "Engineering, report!"

            "Hanson here," the din of extinguishers, and the crackle of
       electricity obscured his voice.

            "Mr. Hanson, report Engineering's status."

            "We've had an explosion in the Jeffries Tube.  Commander
       Scott is being taken to sickbay on antigravs.  Fire's almost out
       but it looks bad down here."

            "How bad, Mr. Hanson?"

            "We won't be able to make repairs on outboard number one
       without dry-docking.  I believe if we tried to engage it again,
       she'd blow in a matter of seconds, Sir."

            "Is there damage to the nacelle's main reactor?" he asked.

            "As far as I can determine, it's intact.  We did lose the
       Starboard engine's fail-safe though.  The automatic power shutdown
       to the engine was damaged in the feedback explosion."

            "We noticed."  Jim swiveled his chair to the engineering
       station, manned by Spock, who was inspecting the console.  Spock
       nodded to the Captain, in confirmation to what Lieutenant Hanson
       reported.  "Do what you can down there and keep me posted.  We may
       need at least warp 3 in two hours."

            "Aye, Sir.  Hanson out."

            "Mr. Spock," Jim rose from his chair.  "You have the con.
       I'll be in sickbay.  Mr. Sulu, resume course for Organia, impulse,

                                       PAGE 62








       point 9 warp."

            "Aye, Sir. Course locked in.  Engaging now."



                                 *         *         *



            Sickbay was lined up with no small number of crewmen suffering
       from minor abrasions to motion sickness.  Nurses Evans and Downey
       distributed medicines and applied antiseptics with the deftness
       that earned them the privilege of their tour on the Enterprise.

            The doors to sickbay parted and in stepped the gold and black
       clad Captain, followed by Dr. M'Benga, who did not seem to be in
       good humor.

            "Not the best way to wake up, being thrown from my bed,
       Captain," spoke the doctor as Jim turned the corner, oblivious to
       the comment, lost in his own thoughts.

            The beds were mercifully empty, save one, on which Jim saw his
       unconscious Chief Engineer, with McCoy attending him.

            "How is he, Bones?" Jim concernedly asked.

            "I'll know as soon as I get this blasted shirt off him." He
       put his medi-scanner down on the tray next to him.  "Nurse
       Chappell,  will you hurry with that molecular separator!"  He then
       loaded his hypo and injected a pink liquid into his patient.

            Jim went to the bedside and beheld the blackened arm of
       Commander Montgomery Scott.  Though he had several facial
       lacerations, and bruises, his arm was by far the most serious.  His
       uniform had melted and fused itself to his right arm and his hand
       looked like a badly toasted marshmallow.  He could tell from the
       readings on the bed's monitor that his whole body had suffered some
       kind of trauma, probably a near-fatal jolt from the overload.

            Nurse Christine Chappell returned to McCoy with the requested
       instrument.  The doctor checked the setting and wasted no time in
       putting it to use, after switching on the bed's sterilization
       field, a reflex action.

            The Captain watched as the uniform fairly unraveled at the
       touch of the instrument, losing its molecular cohesiveness.  The
       dust that was once a sleeve, was ionically drawn to the receptors
       at the head and foot of the bed.  What it revealed was not pleasant
       to look at.  Scott's last two fingers were clearly broken, and his
       middle finger was completely gone.

            "My God, Jim, what was he into?" spoke the doctor, not taking
       his eyes off his task.  "It looks like he's had his hand up a
       thruster."

                                       PAGE 63









            "Security to the shuttle bay," came the First Officer's voice
       over the main speakers.  "Repeat, security to the shuttle bay."

            Jim rushed over to the comm box and punched the sender.  "Mr.
       Spock, what's the trouble?" he asked, already projecting the
       answer.

            "Uncertain Captain, we received a condition red alert from
       shuttle control, however, no one is responding to," his voice broke
       off.  "One moment Captain."  Jim heard Sulu's voice in the
       background but could not hear his words.  "Captain, the tractor
       beam has been disabled.  It is most probable that,"

            "Sabotage, I know Spock," Jim cut in. "Meet me in shuttle bay
       with two phasers.  Needle beam setting," he said, swiftly trying to
       think ahead of the situation.  "Belay that, Mr.  Spock.  Have Sulu
       try to keep the Shuttle Bay doors closed, and meet me in the
       transporter room!"

            Spock paused in thought, for a split second, then, replied.
       "Captain, I believe I understand your line of reasoning, but I fail
       to see its effectiveness."

            Kirk rolled his eyes up in his lids and sighed.

            "In the least, it will avail nothing.  But in the worst case
       it could," Spock continued.

            "Now Spock, that's an order!" Jim said, only slightly
       irritated.  He was very used to His First Officer's willingness to
       offer more information than was often desired.

            "Aye, Sir, Spock out."

            Jim punched the sender switch again and the speaker went dead.
       He looked over his shoulder as he made for the exit.  "Take care of
       him Bones, he's the only Chief Engineer I have."  Then he exited
       sickbay.

            Dashing down the crowded corridor, he reached the turbo-lift.
       He heard the familiar voice of the computer, announcing the ship's
       destruction in 2 hours, just as the doors closed behind him.  "Deck
       7," Jim instructed the computer-controlled lift.



                                  *         *         *



            Lieutenant Kyle was listening to the intra-ship
       communications, trying to determine the reason he had been thrown
       to the floor and bounced around the room, a few minutes ago.  He
       leaned over the transporter controls, one hand supporting his chin,
       the other, flattening down the back of his sandy colored hair.  The

                                       PAGE 64








       entry door slid open to admit the Captain.

            "Captain!" spoke Kyle, snapping immediately to attention.

            "At ease, Mr. Kyle."  Jim walked over to the controls, and
       rubbed his hands together.  "Is everything in its usual working
       order?" Jim asked, assuming it was, since no mention of it was on
       the damage report.

            "Yes, Sir, I just finished the level 1 diag's a minute ago.
       No damage was detected."  He spoke with his usual English accent.

            "When was it last tuned?"

            "Just this morning, Sir.  At the end of last shift.  Saw em do
       it myself as I was coming on duty."

            "Very good, Lieutenant," he said, setting the board for
       manual location-sensor lock and overriding the safety features.  The
       door slid open again, this time admitting the expected Mr.  Spock,
       who quickly moved to the controls beside Jim.

            The overhead speaker came to life, "Sulu to transporter room.
       Mr.  Kyle, is Captain Kirk there yet?"

            Kyle looked at the captain, who indicated that he himself
       would respond.  "I'm here Sulu, what is it?"

            "Captain, Security reports that all guards and personnel
       stationed in the shuttle bay, have been phaser-stunned.  And, Sir,
       Gallileo 2 is attempting to debark."

            "Are the bay doors still closed?"

            "My console says they are, but Security says,"  Sulu, being
       in contact with both the Captain and Security, had to speak to one
       party, while listening to the other.  "Security reports the doors
       are opening!"  The ship beneath them rumbled and vibrated as if she
       had run aground.  "Captain, we have explosive decompression in the
       shuttle bay!"

            "Is everyone out of there?" asked the Captain with urgency.

            There was a pause of dead air space, then, "Security has them
       all in the airlock, Sir.  No casualties to report other than that
       of the men being stunned," reported Sulu, then added, "Shuttle
       craft is launching now."

             "Thank you, Mr. Sulu.  Pursue shuttle craft and find out
       if the tractor beam can be repaired soon and get those bay doors
       closed," Jim said, reverting to a calmer tone for Sulu's sake, only
       a little relieved at what he heard.  "Kirk out." Jim turned to
       Spock, "Our Mr. Grensk has been busy."

            "It would seem," Spock commented with a nod. "Captain, if I
       may."  Jim sighed and indicated to Spock that 'he may'.  "I do not

                                       PAGE 65








       see the logic in using the transporter to stop Lieutenant Grensk,
       considering the way the transporters react when in contact with the
       explosive.  It seems equally futile to have ourselves transported
       to the shuttle.  Grensk's mechanical strength would be more than
       sufficient to stop us." Jim knew Spock's line of reasoning was 'off
       track' with the Captain's intentions, but out of respect for his
       'Number One', he heard him out.  "Logic suggests that we use our
       weapons against the shuttle either to disable or destroy it, before
       it is able to near the planet Organia.  This would put ourselves at
       grave risk, but will prevent the destruction of a planet."

            "Spock," Jim placed his hand on his friend's shoulder, "trust
       me.  I have a plan, and while we execute it, I'll show you why a
       humble Starship Captain can beat his logical Vulcan First Officer
       consistently at chess."  Jim moved aside.  "Man the console," he
       said to Spock.  Then looked to the Lieutenant standing away from
       his post.  "Mr. Kyle?"

            "Yes, Sir?" he felt entirely left out of the conversation and
       was not just a little surprised by it.

            "What you are going to see is classified, dangerous and
       possibly a court-martial offense.  So unless it goes before a board
       of inquiry, mum's the word."

            "Mum, Sir?", he asked, genuinely confused.

            "Not a word," Kirk placed his index finger to his lips.

            "Aye, Sir."

            "Spock, are you able to scan the shuttle?" Jim asked.

            "There was some interference, but I now have a positive sensor
       lock on the craft itself," he said while adjusting controls.  "You
       mentioned Chess, Captain?"

            Jim restrained the look of amusement that he was inclined to
       facially display at the Vulcan's obvious curiosity.  A quality that
       Jim enjoyed seeing in his friend.  "Sometimes, the passion for
       winning, or the threat of losing, can be a 'well' of inspiration,
       Mr. Spock.  Such is the urgency of this situation. Lock
       geographic sensors onto the explosive in Grensk's chest."  He
       observed Spock's operation of the equipment, confident that his
       precision was equal to the task.

            "Nothing personal, Spock, but logic can even hinder the
       process that motivates, that drives us to decisions that must be
       made.  Deep concern about the cost of failure is another driving
       factor."

            "Secondary lock confirmed," he said, glancing up to Jim with
       an inquisitive look.  "Passion hardly seems a formidable strategy
       in a mathematically logical game such as Chess.  The end result
       would seem to be chaos, rather than 'Check Mate'," he stated
       matter-of-factly, in defense of his Vulcan heritage and their

                                       PAGE 66








       standing philosophy.

            "Sulu, to Captain Kirk. Sir, more bad news. All sub-space
       broadcasting equipment has been damaged beyond repair and estimates
       on tractor beam repair is 5 hours."

            Jim pressed the communications switch and responded, "Mr.
       Sulu, I'm not surprised.  Continue Impulse pursuit.  Kirk out."
       Then to Spock, "Locate the upper perimeter of the explosive, plus
       10 centimeters."  Spock raised an eyebrow, hinting of his
       understanding at what the Captain had planned.

            "You are correct in your comment comparing it to 'chaos' Mr.
       Spock, as that can often be the result.  But it is the balance
       between the two: emotion used reasonably.  We also have faith that
       the unproven or the untried, can be accomplished, though we have no
       evidence of it until it is tried.  This 'faith' is the greatest
       evidence I know of, that separates us from the animals, Spock, for
       unlike them, we can believe in something that our 5 senses or
       previous experience cannot corroborate or conclusively prove."

            "Upper boundary from the Lieutenant's chest cavity, located
       and confirmed," spoke Spock, still continuing the difficult
       operation, while pondering his captain's insight.

            "Lock transporter beam terminator to those coordinates."

            "Transporter beam locked."

            Jim took a deep breath.  "Mr. Spock, energize!"

            With controls in hand, Spock slowly moved the matter gain
       levers forward.  Pad 'A' started to shimmer and the outline of
       something began to form.  Then the base of the platform exploded
       with a loud 'crack'.

            "Cross circuit to 'B', Mr. Spock," spoke Mr. Kyle, as he
       shielded his eyes from the blast.

            Spock's hands worked to bypass the channel with a simplistic
       ease that moved Lt. Kyle to envy.  No stress could be seen in him,
       every movement exactingly correct.  Pad 'B' began to glow, in the
       now, smoky room.  "I am reducing termination boundary by 5
       centimeters," he said above the hum of the machinery.

            This time the shimmering on the pad began to solidify, and the
       disembodied head of Lieutenant Grensk, began to take shape, less
       than 2 meters above the platform.  As more mass was added, the head
       slowly descended to the deck and came to rest, eyes open and mouth
       forming words without voice.

            "Check-and-mate, Mr. Spock," said the Captain, as he went to
       the platform and stooped to pick up the remains of the android.

            Lt. Kyle stood speechless at what he had just witnessed.  He
       appeared to be an unwitting accomplice to murder.  Jim looked over

                                       PAGE 67








       his shoulder at the lieutenant and realized it might be wise to
       explain.  Just a little.

            "It's OK, Mr. Kyle, that is an android, not a human.  I don't
       think this qualifies as murder."

            "A-aye, Sir," he said, blinking his eyes and fighting his
       initial shock.

            "The shuttle is starting to drift off course, Captain," Spock
       said, looking at the equipment.  "I am curious, sir, as to how you
       came to suspect the Grensk android from the beginning?"

            "As you did, you mean?" James said, sharing the credit.  "It
       seemed odd to me, simply the way he looked at me.  They say that
       the eyes are the windows to the soul.  Perhaps it was his lack of
       soul, that was the tip-off."  He looked at Spock and could tell
       that the Vulcan was not buying it.  In the past, they both had been
       deceived by androids who had as much soul as Grensk.  "Alright,
       maybe when they removed the parts of his internal workings in his
       chest to make room for the explosive, they damaged the circuit that
       allowed him to blink his eyes normally.  In the conference room, I
       noticed that he seemed to be a bit sluggish in the 'eye batting'
       department."

            "That could explain it," Spock conceded.  "With your
       permission, it seems appropriate for one of us to retrieve the
       shuttle and Lieutenant Grensk's body.   I volunteer."

            "Agreed, Mr. Spock. I'll have a security team with antigravs,
       meet you upon your return.  Be careful," he stressed the last.

            "Mr. Kyle, you may return to your post and energize when
       ready," stated Spock as he made for the platform.

            "Aye, Sir."  The Lieutenant reset the console and quickly but
       carefully set them for the First Officer's destination.

            "Captain?" Spock stated rather than questioned.

            "Yes, Spock?" Jim stepped back from the transporter, cradling
       the heavy android head in his arms.

            "I will consider your 'chess' strategy."

            "Ready to transport Mr. Spock," came Kyle.

            "Energize," Spock said with his arms behind his back in a
       formal stance, and with that he began to shimmer and disappear.








                                       PAGE 68



                              ***    ELEVEN    ****



            The new Emperor stood facing the vast expanse of space
       stretching forth from his window, to perhaps infinity.  He allowed
       himself the luxury of a few moments alone to relax before he faced
       the Klingon Fleet commanders and revealed his plans for them to
       carry out.  Though his authority was absolute in his empire, there
       would undoubtedly be questions toward his mental health if he
       proceeded on his intended course without sharing some details of
       his grand design with them.

            His gaze shifted from the ominous void, to the mighty Klingon
       armada coming into view.  The smile of the wolf crossed his face as
       he saw the awesome might of the Klingon Empire bending to his every
       wish.  He mused in reflection of the ease with which he acquired
       his throne and the power thereof.  The Old Emperor, now imprisoned
       within the bowels of the Federation ship, was still a vital link in
       the chain of events that this New Emperor had set in motion.  The
       real Tromok was an ace in the hole, to be used if Garth's charade
       was detected.  But Garth had no great fear of this.

            Garth had devoted many hours to the mastery of Klingonese.
       The subtle grunts and guttural intonations, the syntax and
       colloquialisms, even the gesticulations accompanying some of the
       ancient words.  And of course, the Emperor's voice was merely a
       physical alteration.  But Garth was no fool.  Little to nothing was
       known of the Emperor of Klinzhai within the confines of the
       Federation.  Garth tried to distance himself from anyone close to
       the Emperor who would be able to detect the discrepancies in the
       Emperor's own mannerisms and personality.  He would not have to
       encounter any members of the High Council.  Tromok had seen to that
       by leaving them all behind on their Mother World.  However, there
       were Military Men close at hand who would know him well.  Admiral
       Sorr was not the least of them.

            The explosive of Garth's own ingenious creation, was still on-
       board the ship that he had entered the Neutral Zone in.  He
       conceived of the formula for the destructive substance while
       imprisoned on the distant, now nonexistent, planet Elba II.  Once
       he had developed the formula, the actual creation of the fulminant
       crystals was hardly a burdensome matter.  Elba II, for all it's
       intended purposes, was just a scientific research station with
       bars.  All the components of the explosive were in-store, easily
       appropriated and utilized, giving him the power to reshape the
       universe.  Yes, there was a time of setback.  He had failed, but
       only in his inability to enlighten the Starship captain 'Kirk', to
       his superior lordship.  He and Kirk were of a kind.  As Garth would
       bow to no other's rule, Kirk would not submit to his.  It was much
       later that Garth realized how Captain Kirk had unwittingly saved
       his life when he prevented Garth from transporting up to the
       Enterprise with the weapon in hand.  It was later that Garth had
       realized the explosive could not be beamed at all.  But that was
       behind him.


                                       PAGE 69








            Garth of Izar had proven victorious and escaped his place of
       exile.  He recalled the perfect execution of his scheme to steal
       the cargo ship while it was transferring equipment, via jump-ship,
       down to the surface of Elba II.  'The fool Cory', Garth thought.
       The drug that was used to 'cure' Garth of his 'alleged' insanity
       was obviously not tested for duration.  It had returned him to his
       former 'weakling' self, for a time.  But the 'Garth' that was
       strong, was too much a part of him to be suppressed for long,
       though it had seemed to change him somewhat.  He could think
       clearer now.  Once he had permanently disposed of Cory he was able
       to assume, again, the guise of the Governor of the colony.  Then it
       was simplicity itself, to take the orbiting ship and charge to the
       Neutral Zone.  The captain of the cargo ship 'Fringe Ranger' had
       not been much of a challenge.  Though he did manage to send out a
       distress signal before Garth was able to capture it, it availed him
       nothing.  Proud Garth satisfied himself with these thoughts, and
       turned his attention to the future.

            A chime sounded in the Emperor's chamber, indicating that
       someone requested entry.  Garth turned from the observation window
       and furrowed his brow.

            "Enter!" he commanded, quite accustomed to giving orders.

            The door slid upward, disappearing into the top of the frame.
       Commander Kang stood at the entrance, flanked on both sides by the
       Emperor's guard.  He entered the large room, followed by the black
       clad warriors.

            "I ordered no disturbances!" the Emperor boomed, taking note
       that the man before him was of Commander grade, but not recognizing
       him.  "State the reason for your intrusion," ordered the Emperor.

            The expression on Kang's face changed from wooden, to one of
       puzzlement.  It was always mandatory for a Flag Officer to report
       to the highest superior possible, after a military defeat.  Emperor
       Tromok had always taken great pleasure, whenever available, in
       dealing personally, with 'inferior Klingons', as he called them.

            "My lord, I await your decision," Kang voiced levelly, though
       at the ready to plea for the life of his wife and that of his crew.

            Taken aback, momentarily at a loss as to exactly what decision
       the officer might require, Garth finally recognized the voice, and
       placed it with the name of Kang.  Though they had spoken to one
       another before, it had not been a visual communication.  Pretending
       to contemplate his 'decision', Garth tried to remember the details
       of the intercepted transmission the former Emperor had with the
       Commander.  It came to him that Tromok had already decided in favor
       of Kang, so what was this, he wondered.  Reward?  Promotion?  Garth
       suddenly wished he knew more about the Klingonese customs, and
       specifically the Emperor's habit's.  Finally he spoke, not wanting
       his hesitation to cause suspicion.  "Leave us," he commanded his
       guards.

            Kang heard the door slide home, still facing his Emperor and

                                       PAGE 70








       wondering.  Something was different about him.  He seemed, to Kang,
       not to have recognized him.

            "What would you have me say?" the Emperor, playing it safe,
       interrupted Kang's thoughts with the question.

            The swarthy Commander eyed his Emperor for a moment.  He had
       never known the ruler of the Klingon Realm to be slow in executing
       judgement, and least of all to have the accused determine the
       punishment.  Was this a test of sorts, or was Emperor Tromok merely
       baiting him for his own pleasure?  The answer to these, he did not
       know.  But if it was a game to humiliate him, Kang decided he would
       not play.  He looked straight ahead, standing at full attention.
       "Say what you will, my lord."

            The Emperor turned toward the Commander.  To Kang's surprise a
       partial smile adorned the Emperor's face.  "This day I have
       acquired more power than anyone before me has imagined attaining.
       I hold the might to claim the galaxy, and you have played a
       prominent role in bringing this into being."  He placed a hand to
       his chin.  "In reward for such a feat, you have the gratitude of
       the Klingon People and myself.  I give you command of the ship and
       crew of your choice and send you home on furlough, to give the
       Council personal word of my victory."

            Kang remained dispassionate at the Emperor's speech.  He did
       not want to give expression to the feeling he had about the man
       before him.  "My lord is most generous," is all he allowed himself
       to say.

            "I can afford generosity, Commander, what ship shall it be?"
       he asked, wanting to be rid of Kang before any more surprises
       occurred.

            "I will keep my own ship if you please, and my crew is the
       finest in all the realm, my lord."  His pride in his comrades shone
       through his stoic exterior.  But the foremost thought in his mind
       was the sensation that he had never met this man before.  Could the
       enemy invader have done something to the Emperor?  Is this man the
       Emperor?  It did not seem to Kang that this was the one that he
       knew.

            "Then I give you your leave, and after the Command Assembly,
       your leave to go home."  With a curt nod of his head, he dismissed
       the Commander.

            Kang bowed to the image of his Emperor but before turning to
       go, he needed to know for certain.  Not for himself, but for the
       sake of the Empire.  This might be his only chance to be sure, of
       the one who occupies the throne of Klinzhai.  "Shall I also inform
       Chamberlain Jekrrez of your plans, my lord?"

            Garth looked deep into the eyes of the Commander, trying to
       read anything that might help him with the answer.  'This one is
       sharp.  He suspects my deception,' thought he to himself, 'But how?
       And to what degree?'  Garth had to respond to the obviously loaded

                                       PAGE 71








       question.  "You will tell ALL COUNCIL MEMBERS!  IS THAT CLEAR?"  He
       let himself vent his anger and frustration.  After all, he was
       questioning the Emperor of the Realm.

            Kang bowed again, "Yes, lord Tromok.", he said, but carefully
       and deliberately not, 'My lord'.  The Commander left the room.  He
       could not hear the scream of rage that burst forth from the
       Emperor, as the thick door closed behind him.  But he did know,
       with a surety now, that the man who ruled the Empire was not Mocdar
       Jek Tromok.

            Behind the thick doors, Garth reached a state of composure.
       He consoled himself with the knowledge that regardless of Kang's
       suspicion, Garth would soon be rid of him and free to fulfill his
       glorious destiny.

            He moved to his desk and sat behind it, resting in the solid
       comfortable chair.  Pressing a button on the desk, he sealed the
       door from intruders and allowed his physically altered body to
       revert back to it's original form.  The strain of maintaining the
       shape of another was not easy to bear.  Garth had told his
       incarcerator, Cory, that he had learned cellular metamorphosis from
       the Antosians.  Not quite the truth, he mused.

            When the people of Antos IV found his broken and burned body,
       they did their best to patch him together.  It was not good enough.
       His condition rapidly worsened.  With his death imminent, and his
       ship unable to locate him, it was decided by the Doctor whose care
       he was in to share a coveted secret of their race.

            The Antosians had an organ within them which allowed them to
       control their own cellular arrangement and influence complex
       molecules within a few centimeters of their epidermis.  The tiny
       organ called a 'Dunia', located behind the heart, was directly
       connected to the spinal column, and from there, the brain.  Before
       the Antosians learned that they could control the operation of this
       organ, it naturally caused their body to be able to regenerate
       damaged tissue, much like certain lizards being able to regenerate
       their tails.  This gave them increased longevity and with time,
       complete control over their entire physical structure, without
       altering mental patterns within the brain in the least.

            The attending Doctor concluded that if they were to save
       Captain Garth, he would need the organ, too.  The organ had been
       cloned for him, grown in a hyper-progression chamber and placed
       within the dying Captain.  Without conscious will on Garth's part,
       the organ began it's intended task of cellular reconstruction
       immediately.  Within three days, he was physically whole again.  In
       time Garth learned to manipulate the organ's operation, first, to
       alter his facial features, later, the rest of his body.  Lastly he
       learned to exude and control the aggressive endoplasmic variance
       agents that could alter exterior molecules such as his clothing.

            His body was again healthy, but the Antosians could do
       nothing about his growing madness.  The pain he had endured as he
       lay dying drove sanity from his grasp.  After he had mastered

                                       PAGE 72








       metamorphosis, he turned violently on the Antosians.  They would
       not follow his plans of conquest and galactic war, so he sought to
       destroy them.  His plan was thwarted by his own crew and he was
       dispatched to the last colony for the incurably insane.  Like
       Napoleon, Garth was exiled to his Elba, and returned from thence,
       to make war and to conquer.

            Garth, pulled his chair forward to more easily use the
       Emperor's computer console.  He entered several commands into the
       terminal, but to no avail.  The password protected files he
       requested remained beyond his reach.  His second recourse was to
       merely find out exactly what files were not password protected and
       glean the information he needed from them.  He scanned several
       pages of file listings in the memory banks until he located what he
       desired.

            The common library, with it's wealth of information,
       held vast amounts of data on every conceivable subject.  It was a
       difficult task, to keep from straying from his purpose.  Suddenly
       he found what he was looking for in the history section.  He
       commanded the machine to search for the most current references to
       the title of Chamberlain.  After only a nano-second, his screen was
       filled with the names and accomplishments of the Klingonese High
       Council members.  He quickly scanned the names of the current
       members but found no Jekrrez among them.  He then paged through the
       list of former council members until he found what he sought after.
       It read:

            Record Number 7-18:8.55-14-4-4-5
            Jekrrez, Holzah - Found guilty of treason and executed
            678193 - 678341   by command of his Imperial Highness,
                              Emperor Mocdar Jek Tromok [678241.1]

            Anger swept Garth's soul, as he realized that Kang now
       possessed knowledge which could jeopardize his newly acquired
       throne.  He smashed his fist onto the computer controls, crushing
       the terminal, making it useless.  He watched the smoke rise from
       the console and sat back in his chair.  'At least', he reflected,
       'there are ways to deal with insurrection, before the fact.'  He
       soothed his temper with that in mind and plotted to rid himself of
       this thorn.



                                  *         *         *



            At the heart of the Imperial Throneship Thunder, protected by
       energy barriers and thick blast-proof walls, was the war council
       chamber.  Although seating one-hundred and one, it was nearly
       filled.  The senior officers of each Klingon Warship in the
       immediate vicinity, were in attendance before the Emperor's mighty
       seat of power.  They were joined by three Romulans of command
       grade who had been late in arriving.  The Emperor's elite Ramjep
       Avwi were guarding all exits and four of them stood behind the

                                       PAGE 73








       Emperor's chair, facing the congregation.

            The briefing of previous events, conducted by Admiral Sorr,
       had just been completed.  Now all in attendance awaited Emperor
       Tromok's arrival to the chamber. Murmurs of the great power, now in
       their control, resounded throughout the spacious room.  They were
       silenced as Admiral Sorr seated himself in front with the other
       Admirals, Captains and Commanders.  The Midnight Guard moved from
       their parade-rest stance, to attention, as Emperor Mocdar Jek
       Tromok entered the room with a recorded orchestra flourish
       proceeding him.

            The fleet commanders rose from their seats and saluted in
       unison, while their monarch established himself in his lone chair.
       Facing them, he motioned his approval for the company to reseat
       themselves.  Silence again, had reign over the room as his Imperial
       Highness looked over the many faces that sat before him.

            The Emperor placed both hands on the armrests of his chair,
       gripping them tightly.  "Who among you can deliver me a galaxy?" he
       asked calmly in his deep bass voice.  The company looked to each
       other in surprise at the question.  When no answer was forthcoming,
       he continued.  "What is it that stands between us and our rightful
       place among the stars?" he posed. "What powers vex our mighty
       Empire at every turn?"

            Admiral Sorr stood confidently before his master, "Organia, my
       lord," he answered.

            "Incorrect, Admiral," Garth stated flatly, to the astonishment
       of all present.  "Organia is merely an excuse we have been deluding
       ourselves with, for far too long.  A treaty that has made the
       Empire slumber in the same bed as that of our enemy."  He stood and
       let the assembly see the fire in his eyes.  "Fear and ignorance,
       are what obstructs our path to glory!  Together they are more
       devastating than a thousand Organia's, more deadly than a million
       Federations." He folded his arms across his chest.  "And they are
       infinitely more powerful than this new 'Super Weapon', that you
       have, no doubt, placed some hope in."

            He looked narrowly upon the company.  "You," he pointed to the
       assembly of men, "have permitted a fold of sheep to dictate the
       boundaries of my Empire and pretended it was because of the power
       they wielded. Power beyond ours, that bound us to this section of
       space.  When, infact, it was fear of the extents of their power,
       and ignorance of how to use that power against them, that halted
       you from delivering me the galaxy," he boomed.

            The Emperor placed his fists on his hips. He could see the
       large group was impressed by his words, yet were confused that the
       speech, though characteristically bold, lacked the solution to
       the 'Organian-forged' chains that shackled them.  He would soon
       give them the key, but first he would rid himself of the Commander
       who had been given cause to suspect the Emperor.

            "Admiral Sorr has informed you of the weapon that is now mine

                                       PAGE 74








       to use in reshaping the galaxy, a weapon of such destructive power
       that no other force has ever been conceived since the beginning of
       creation.  Yet I tell you this... we have never needed the weapon
       to take Klingon rule across the Neutral Zone!" He continued to keep
       them in expectation of an answer to the Peace Treaty dilemma,
       relishing the power he held over them.

            "And what, I am sure you are wondering, can be done while the
       watchdogs of peace threaten to intervene at any moment of conflict
       between the Federation and our majestic Empire?  It is a good
       question, one that has been avoided and side-stepped too many
       times before!"  The Emperor paused, changing the tone of his voice
       from 'forceful' to 'mild'.  "My subjects... my comrades, the
       solution can be found in the very treaty that binds us. It can be
       clearly seen, not in what is written on the parchment, but what
       remains unwritten."  Garth almost began to smile at that, enjoying,
       loving every moment of their prolonged desire to see what they had
       been blind to.

            "Commander Kang!" Garth abruptly changed the direction of his
       speech, to the unexpressed consternation of the men before him.

            "Here," he said, rising from his seat, "lord Tromok." 'Or the
       image of Tromok', he spoke to himself.  Kang too was inspired by
       the speech of the man who wore his Emperor's face.  He caught
       himself wishing that this man was his lord, leading them to
       victory.  But no, this was not him and the prime enemy was not the
       Federation now.  That made Kang a traitor to the Realm, for he
       would have to stand against his Emperor, if not now, soon.

            "I presume that you are versed in the specifics of the treaty
       to which I refer?" he asked, knowing all men of command grade had
       it committed to memory, by Imperial Proclamation.

            "I am, as all present are, Emperor Tromok." Kang did not know
       the game being played this time either, only that he was being
       maneuvered into something.

              How many conditions are in effect on the document as
       written?" he asked the Commander as a teacher would test a student.

            "Six conditions exist," Kang stated.  He wondered if he would
       have another opportunity to face the imposter alone.  He was
       certain that he would not be able to use his ship against the
       Thunder.  He was not only outgunned, but his crew would surely
       mutiny.

            "Recite the essence of each condition for us all Commander
       Kang," he commanded.

            Kang grit his teeth, feeling as if he would next have to
       recite their alphabet. "First condition: the treaty imposed, forces
       the Federation and Klingon Empire to cease hostilities or both
       parties will be rendered militarily harmless. Second: a Neutral
       Zone will separate both parties where no aggression will be
       tolerated within zone boundaries. Third: any future aggression

                                       PAGE 75








       between the two parties will be summarily stopped by the Organians.
       Fourth: no party will deny peaceful access to planetary bases
       within said zone. Fifth: Organia is to be left alone, until a time
       of their choosing, then they will reveal their intentions for both
       parties.  Sixth: planets may be peacefully developed within the
       zone.  Exclusive rights to any zone planet belong to the party who
       most efficiently develops the planet," he concluded, thankful to be
       finished.

            "Very adequate, 'Captain' Kang, of the Imperial Battle
       Cruiser, Fury.  I now release you from my presence so that you may
       formally appraise my council of the events that have transpired,"
       Garth said, looking into Kang's eyes from across the distance.
       "Your promotion is now on record and your ship has been notified of
       your new rank."

            Kang stood silently for a moment, realizing he was not going
       to be present to hear the rest of the imposter's plan for the
       Empire.  Then he bowed low to the Emperor, "Thank you, lord
       Tromok," he said, bowing low enough to be partially hidden from the
       Emperor.  Quickly he opened a channel to his ship's log recorder
       on his communicator and placed it under the seat in front of him.
       As he completed his slightly extended bow, the Emperor displayed in
       his hand, the rank insignia pin of the captaincy.

            "I almost forgot, Captain Kang, approach me now and receive
       your honors."

            Kang slowly advanced between the rows of chairs, to the aisle.
       His peers and superiors gave him questioning looks. It was a rare
       thing indeed for the Emperor to personally promote anyone in the
       admiralty, and never a Commander. He stepped up to the platform
       where the Emperor and his guard stood awaiting him.  Ever so slowly
       he moved his hand towards his disrupter, then halted the motion.
       He reasoned that the Ramjep Avwi would have him dead on the floor
       before he completed his draw.  He stopped in front of the Emperor
       and faced him at attention.

            The Emperor took a step towards Kang and now was inches from
       his face.  He reached out and placed the symbol of Kang's new rank
       on him.  He then leaned over to the Captain, almost nose to nose
       and whispered, "Give my personal regards to Chamberlain Jekrrez,"
       he said poisonously.  Then placed a firm hand on Kang's shoulder,
       turning him around for the assembly.  "I present you, 'Captain'
       Kang!  Salute!" he ordered.  The company rose and saluted as
       required.  The firm hand indicated that it was time for Kang to be
       gone.

            Kang, stepped down from the platform and headed up the aisle
       to the exit.  His thoughts were of murder.

            "Commander S'takal of the Romulan Fleet... stand!" Garth
       commanded as the heavy door closed behind the new Captain.  S'takal
       rose and saluted the Klingon Emperor in Romulan fashion.  "You have
       all the data on the new weapon, including projected power curves.
       You may now transmit this information to your superiors.  Your

                                       PAGE 76








       ships will flank our cruisers when we approach the Neutral Zone."
       The Romulan acknowledged his command and he and his company also
       exited the room.

            "Now, it is time," he addressed his troops, "that I shared
       with you the keys to the galaxy!"



















































                                       PAGE 77



                              ***    TWELVE    ***



            Kang left the war room behind him and walked the corridors of
       the Throneship alone.  'Alone', he thought to himself, he had never
       been so alone before.  He had faced the terror and the glory of the
       void beyond.  He had braved the vast expanses of space and seen the
       wonders that they held, but always with his wife and crew beside him.
       Now he would return to his ship, outcast in his heart, alienated from
       his wife and ship because of the knowledge that he now carried with
       him, the knowledge that he dared not share.

            He prepared himself for the dishonor of the 'lie' that he
       would have to tell his crew, for he was not returning to Klinzhai
       as ordered.  He was unsure of where he was going, but certain it
       would be on the heels of the 'false' Emperor.  There were several
       plans of attack that had crossed his mind, one of which was
       gaining access to the ship labelled 'Fringe Ranger', but even if he
       could get himself aboard the intruder's vessel, he was unsure that
       he would find his deposed Ruler.  If he yet lived, he would be hidden
       and well guarded.  If dead, he would be dust.  Without the body, he
       would have no evidence which would unmask the face of the villain,
       and he was certain that the way to the enemy ship was blocked at
       all avenues.

            Kang rounded the corner of the long hall, and strode towards
       the transporter room.  He looked down at the floor in shame for
       what he was about to involve his crew in, when his eye was caught
       by the gleaming symbol of his new commission.  He pulled it from
       his chest and held it in his hand, examining it while he walked.
       It was a false commission.  Another lie, but one that he would not
       bear. He closed his fist around the small ornament, squeezing it in
       his anger.

            Commander Kang, 'Captain' to all but himself, entered the
       transporter room of the Throneship.  He was saluted by the
       transporter officer on duty.

            "What is your destination, Sir?" he asked as Kang stepped up
       to the platform.

            Kang looked at the officer before him.  "Do you have any
       children?" he asked him.

            The lieutenant glanced up in surprise of the question.  Then
       with the pride of a father said, "Yes, Sir, a strong son."

            Kang stepped from the transporter platform to the controls of
       the machine the lieutenant stood behind. He placed the symbol of
       Captaincy that he held, on the hood of the machine.  "Give this to
       your son as a present from me, who has none."

            "Thank you, my lord. It will be my honor," he said, grateful
       to the man, though slightly bewildered.


                                       PAGE 78








            Kang again stepped up to the platform and faced the operator.
       "To the battle cruiser Fury, Lieutenant," he said mildly, bearing
       the heaviness of his solitude.

            "Yes, sir," responded the officer.  The coordinates were laid
       in quickly and efficiently.  "Energizing," he said and the
       Commander began to fade from view.  Kang never knew that the
       ornament he had just given away contained a small crystal of the
       Garth explosive, rendered safe from impact but not from
       transportation, and was meant to be the death of him.



                                 *         *         *



            Kang stepped onto his own bridge that had once felt like home
       to him.  The bridge crew rose from their stations and saluted
       proudly, the 'Captain' of the Fury.  Kang nodded in recognition of
       their gesture.  "Ship's status?" he directed toward his own Mara.

            "Full power is restored, computer and scanning apparatus have
       also been repaired.  All is well, my lord," she said.

            Kang wished it were true.  "I will be in my quarters, briefly,
       to review our new orders. What is the status of our Romulan-made,
       cloaking device?"

            "It is functioning and can be operational upon your command,"
       she said unquestioningly.  Several of the Klingon warships had
       received the cloaking devices some time ago.  None had yet used the
       camouflaging device.  It was a cultural point that had hindered
       use of the equipment.  Klingons believed that when engaging an
       enemy, the enemy must see whom it is that has brought death to their
       door.  It was considered cowardice to hide from an enemy. Better to
       do battle in full view, for the glory of the Empire.

            "See that it is tested in simulation before I return to the
       bridge," he ordered.  His confidence in his wife was unwavering.
       She would obey his every command even unto death, without doubt.
       His confidence in himself was the sore point.  He did not want to
       dishonor her this way, any way.  Kang turned and walked off the
       bridge, heading for his private chamber.

            The door to his cabin opened to his voice command, and closed
       and locked itself when he was inside.  He sighed heavily as he sat
       behind his desk.  He pressed several buttons on the computer
       console before him, issued a command and two passwords, and was
       allowed access to the 'Captain's' log records.

            Kang played the voice log transmission that he sent to his
       recorder, while aboard the Thunder.  He sat back and listened.

                 "Now, it is time that I shared with you the keys to the
            galaxy!" the voice of the Emperor came over the speaker.  "The

                                       PAGE 79








            treaty, as written, is between two opposing governments, two
            'Galactic Powers', is it not?  The solution to our plight is
            not to clash with the enemy, until we first join with our
            enemy!"

            With that announcement, there was no small sound of
       turmoil coming from all in attendance.  Kang himself was astonished
       anew with the boldness of this imposter.

                 The Emperor obviously gestured that the company be silent
            so that he may continue and clarify his meaning.  "We must
            first sue for peace! Officially become part of the United
            Federation of Planets, then do what is completely within the
            rights of all Federation members.  Revolt!  There is no
            provision, no condition, forbidding revolution within either
            governing power." With that there was silence. A few moments
            for contemplation of what their Emperor proposed, was allowed.
            Then he spoke again.  "I, and I alone, offer you the keys to
            deliver me the galaxy!  Now what hinders you?  Ignorance has
            now been defeated before your eyes! The only thing blocking
            your path is what has always been in your way!" he paused for
            them to realize this. "Who will stand with me and conquer the
            fear that holds back the might of my Realm?  Who will follow
            me as I claim my galaxy?"

            Cheers burst forth from the congregation. A clamor of such
       tumultuous noise that Kang turned the volume switch down, for fear
       of it penetrating the doors of his cabin.  He sat back, shocked to
       hear the depth of this imposter's deceit. This man who had single-
       handedly captured the throne of Klinzhai was about to start the
       most dreaded war in the galaxy. He now wondered if it was too late
       to stop it.  Kang did know that he was in no position to halt this
       madman alone.

                 "Are there any questions that I may address
            concerning our next course of action?" Garth asked.

                 "When do we begin, my lord?" spoke Admiral Sorr,
            in admiration of his master. He did not know the Emperor could
            be so inspiring.

                 "Very soon. We will move closer to the Neutral Zone and
            make our peaceful intentions known to the shining Federation.
            I will take this ship, alone, to the Federation's seat of
            power and proclaim a new era of peace. We will become,
            temporarily, a part of the Union, which will immediately erase
            any Neutral Zone boundary and nullify the hated Organian Peace
            Treaty. All of you will smile at our enemy, until I have
            commanded you otherwise." Enthusiastic noise was again heard
            in the background.

                 "My lord," spoke a captain in the back, "What if
            they do not believe us, and do not allow us to join?"

                 The sounds of the encouraged, went silent.  "First, my
            astute Captain, they have Federation directives mandating that

                                       PAGE 80








            any planet or government that desires to petition the Council
            for peace may freely come and present their case. By their
            own laws, they can not refuse us.  Second, we will convince
            them of our good will towards them by demonstration.  We will
            break all ties with the Romulans, severing our alliance."

                 This announcement caused some division in the fleet
            commanders. Some looked at the Romulans as much needed allies,
            while others looked upon them as a necessary evil, that had
            brought shame to the Empire by the mere admission of needing
            allies.

                 "SILENCE!" commanded the Emperor. "This is not a debate!
            This is the WAY! He who does not have the belly for victory,
            you who can not stomach the glory of our ultimate battle, step
            before me and I will put you out of the misery of my service!"
            There was no sound to be heard among them. They were in awe;
            some, of his majesty, others, of his fierce wrath, but all, of
            his command of the Klingon Empire.

                 "WARRIORS!" he shouted as a battle cry, "LET THIS BE THE
            FINAL EMPIRE!" The roar of cheers he received this day were
            the likes of which no Emperor in the Realm had ever received
            before.

            Kang stopped the recording.  The Emperor, the 'real' Emperor,
       was right, when Kang saw him in the last moments of their
       communication.  Before Tromok had boarded the enemy's vessel, he
       had said to him with his eyes, 'what evil have you loosed in the
       galaxy?'  It was Kang the Destructor who had allowed the Empire to
       fall into the flames. It was Kang who now had to find a way to stop
       the fire from spreading. He thought long and hard about his next
       move. He would have to do what neither he nor anyone else was
       permitted to even attempt. He arose from his seat and departed his
       cabin for the bridge.

            As Kang seated himself in his command chair, and opened intra-
       ship communications.  "This is Kang.  We have received our new
       orders and will be maintaining a communications blackout for the
       duration of our mission.  We will be testing the cloaking device
       in the Neutral Zone. I am under orders to reveal our ultimate
       destination to no one.  I am not, however, restricted from telling
       you that we may see several close-up views of the Federation
       Fleet," he said, knowing that they would be encouraged by it.  To
       come face to face with a Federation vessel, knowing that they held
       the power in their hands to destroy it before it was aware of the
       peril, then doing nothing, would give them a sense of power.

            He depressed a button on his command chair which changed the
       security code of the navigational station's coordinates.  This
       allowed him the ability to tell his navigator/helmsman speed,
       distance and bearing but would prohibit the navigator from being
       able to read the destination code. He would, in essence, be flying
       the ship blindly.

            "Torvak, set course 8-3-12 mark 4, parabolic, 32 degrees Y
       axis!  Warp 7", Kang commanded.

                                       PAGE 81







            "Yes sir, laying course in."

            "Engage," he ordered.

            The Battlecruiser Fury turned about and headed away from the
       rest of the Imperial fleet.  It proceeded on a wide arc that would
       make it appear, at first, to be heading for Klinzhai.  It was, in
       fact, on course for the forbidden planet Organia. Once out of
       sensor range from the fleet, the interstellar craft began to
       shimmer. Light reflecting from the vessel began to distort, and in a
       matter of moments the ship vanished. The Romulan 'Cloaking Device'
       engaged and enveloped the Klingon cruiser, making it undetectable by
       sight or sensors.  The ship stealthily approached the Neutral Zone
       and increased speed, dangerously, to warp 9.











































                                       PAGE 82



                              ***    THIRTEEN    ***



            The Starship Enterprise slowed, approaching a low-altitudinal
       orbit around the world below.  It was within one kilometer of
       touching the blue planet's atmosphere; a caress that would be far
       from gentle if she were to come closer.

            James Kirk, Spock and Dr. McCoy, walked together down the
       hall leading to the transporter room. Jim, in his formal dress-
       green uniform, held a copy of the Peace Treaty and the Starfleet
       Order sending him to Organia.  They walked abreast down the long
       corridor, each in his own thoughts; Kirk about what he would say to
       the powerful beings they were about to revisit; McCoy about his
       patient, Montgomery Scott; and Spock concerned himself with
       gathering as much information on the Organians as possible. The
       first time they had come here they were welcome.  This time, they
       knew, they were not.

            The door to the transporter room opened to them, and the
       company of three walked over to the platform.  Lieutenant Patterson
       stood behind the control unit and readied it, expecting the men.
       He had relieved Mr. Kyle from his post for his lunch break.

            Dr. McCoy stood on the broken pad that shorted out when
       attempting to beam back the android.  Spock gently moved him aside
       to an operational one beside it.  "This one is non-operational," he
       offered the Doctor.  "My luck it would be partially operational,"
       the ship's Doctor responded unenthusiastically.  The three of them
       facing Lt. Patterson were a grim trio indeed.

            "Energize, Mister Patterson," the Captain said.

            "Aye sir," the transporter operator responded and the three
       began to shimmer and were gone.



                                 *         *         *



            The surface of the planet Organia, was green with lush
       vegetation.  The air was a clean light blue, the water was pure and
       the land seemed to be well cared for. It seemed to be late spring,
       on Organia. Puffy white clouds drifted peacefully across the warm
       sky.  A gentle breeze caused the grass to ripple as if it were
       waves on a green sea. It was in the midst of this green land that
       the Captain, First Officer and Chief Physician of the Starship
       Enterprise appeared.

            The company looked round about them. Spock scanned with his
       tri-corder, Jim and Bones used their own vision.  Not a structure
       of any sort could be seen in any direction.  Not a person could be
       found. The castle that should have been upon the hill was gone.

                                       PAGE 83








       The community that should have been all around them was not there.
       There were animals in abundance, but nothing to indicate anyone of
       intelligence.  Jim pulled out his communicator from behind his back
       and flipped it open.  He adjusted the frequency and pressed the
       sender.

            "Kirk to Enterprise," he said.

            "Enterprise here, Captain," came Uhura's voice.

            "Transfer this communication to the transporter room, Uhura,"
       he ordered her, politely.

            "Yes, Captain," she said.

            "This is Lieutenant Patterson," came the male voice.

            "Lieutenant Patterson, confirm our present location, and
       compare it to the first beamdown location recorded on this
       planet."

            "Aye, Sir," the air went dead as the lieutenant proceeded as
       ordered. "Captain, You are within a few centimeters of the last
       beamdown location," he said.

            "Thank you Mr. Patterson.  Kirk out," Jim replaced his
       communicator and turned to the other two men. "Well, where is
       everybody?" he said to them.

            Spock let his tri-corder hang back down at his side.  "I
       believe it is highly probable that the Organians, after revealing
       their true selves to us, had no need of the castle or any
       structures and merely removed them," the First Officer commented.
       "There is no evidence of civilization that I am able to register on
       my tri-corder, Captain. Its field is, of course, limited," he
       said.  "There does seem to be an abundance of 'woodland creatures';
       animals, insects, fowl of great variety, even micro-biological
       organisms.  But I have been able to detect no higher life forms."
       He looked up at Jim, "Other than us," he added for additional
       accuracy.

            "Maybe we should have called first," offered the Doctor
       flippantly, to no one in particular.

            "Funny," Jim commented to Bones' humor. "It's probable that
       we are not able to register the Organians with our equipment." He
       looked around and came to the decision that they might as well pick
       a direction to venture out and try to find 'someone'.  "Well, let's
       start walking.  Maybe we'll stumble onto something."

            "Which direction?" asked the Doctor.  "It looks uninhabited in
       every direction."

            "Mr. Spock, what do you suggest is the logical way to go?" Jim
       asked.


                                       PAGE 84








            Spock cocked his head.  "Captain, I hear what appears to be
       the sound of a large animal.  It is getting closer."

            "From which direction, Spock?" questioned Jim.

            Spock pointed, his finger behind Bones, "Somewhere in that
       general direction," he said, indicating a forest of small trees
       some onehundred meters away.  "By the sound of it, it is either
       quite large or quite close."

            "Or both!  Let's go that way!" Bones suggested eagerly,
       pointing in the opposite direction.

            They had no weapons, although Jim did reflexively move his
       hand down to his side where the phaser wasn't.  All three turned
       to see, what a moment ago, only Spock was able to hear, but now all
       heard.  They started to back-step just in case it was something
       that might be dangerous.

            Out from behind the front group of trees lumbered a large
       bear-like creature, lazily coming toward them.  It walked on all
       fours, breathing heavily and dangling its lolling tongue out of
       its gaping mouth. The three men ceased their retreat and stood there
       unmoving, hoping that they would be unnoticed.  The animal stopped,
       put its nose up in the air, sniffed deeply, then looked straight at
       them.  Out from behind the animal a large tail started to swing from
       side to side. It began immediately to head directly for the trio.

            Bones nervously fumbled for his medical bag, in hopes of
       loading his spray hypo with a strong sedative for the giant animal
       and perhaps, he thought, for himself.  Instead, he dropped the
       contents of the bag in the thick tall grass.  The bear-thing seemed
       to increase in speed as it neared them.

            "Nobody move," ordered Jim, who had spent several summers long
       ago, in Yosemite National Park: Earth.  The bears there were known
       to occasionally attack a careless tourist or two.  He had been
       told to play dead if a bear had him cornered. Lie flat on his
       stomach, just in case the bear decided to rake his claws across
       him, protecting his vital organs from the often lethal blows.

            As the bear creature closed the gap, Spock noticed that
       instead of the pointy long teeth of a carnivore, its teeth were
       blunt, even where the canines should have been.  He could also
       detect no claws on the creature's big shaggy paws, but it was
       coming awfully fast, and it was Spock's experience that some of
       the most gentle-looking animals could eat Vulcans.

            "Asher, stop!" a voice commanded in the distance, as the furry
       giant was almost upon them.  It obeyed the voice, turned around to
       see its master coming out of the trees, and sat, thumping its
       heavy tail on the ground. It was Ayelborne.  The robed man walked
       towards the three men.  "Don't worry about Asher," he spoke, loud
       enough for them to hear him.  "He cannot hurt you."

            "Ayelborne," the Captain addressed him and started towards

                                       PAGE 85








       him. "I am glad to see you again."

            "Why have you come, knowing that we do not wish you here?" he
       questioned.  The tone of his voice was one of deep disappointment.
       "You have broken the treaty and brought back the evil to our
       world," he said as he stopped to pet Asher.

            "I was ordered here by my superiors, Ayelborne," the Captain
       said as he walked up to the man and the animal. The animal sniffed
       the Captain, and licked his hand like a gentle faithful pet.

            "Don't you know why we are here?" McCoy jumped in, "Aren't you
       guys supposed to be omniscient?"

            "Bones!" Jim sharply rebuked him.

            "In answer to your question, Mr. 'Bones'... no," Ayelborne said
       mildly. "We have never claimed to be. We know many things that you
       do not and we are certainly different from you, but there is only One
       who is 'omniscient'."

            "Ayelborne," Jim began, realizing that he was running out of
       precious time, "I need to ask you... I have to ask you some
       questions as a representative of the United Federation of Planets
       and Starfleet," he said, none too comfortably.  "The reason we are
       here is because somehow the Klingon Empire has a weapon that was
       taken from the Federation.  I have been sent by my government to
       ask you why you didn't intervene when the planet Elba II and
       outpost Delta Gamma 13 were attacked and destroyed by the Klingons?"

            "Captain, I assure you, the Klingon Empire has not been
       involved aggressively in Federation Space," he answered in all
       sincerity.  "We have been watching, as we promised, both sides of
       the Zone of Neutrality. There has been no aggression, Captain."

            "Ayelborne, I would like to believe you," he began, but then
       decided to be completely truthful with the man.  "I do believe you,
       Ayelborne, but I need some kind of explanation to take back with me
       to my superiors.  If I do not, I will be forced to do something
       terrible."

            "Captain, I can not explain what I have no knowledge of," he
       said honestly. "We have never concerned ourselves with 'police'
       matters on either side. Our involvement with you is limited to
       holding back the evil of the two governing powers.  The fact that
       we have to do this is most disturbing to us," he spoke in earnest.
       "Overexposure to men such as you is not only painful to us but
       there is the danger of, you might say, 'loosing the serpent in
       Eden' again."

            Jim reflected on the last, for a moment. So little was known
       of this gentle and powerful people.  Virtually nothing about their
       history, or even their present civilization.  And this peaceful
       place was very much like the description of the 'Eden' he had
       mentioned. He held many questions about them, but he had to return
       back to the matters at hand.  "Then you must at least know of the

                                       PAGE 86








       spaceship that crossed the Neutral Zone boundary three days ago."

            "Yes, we did see a privately owned ship enter from your side
       and exit on the Klingonese side," he confirmed.  "But it was
       neither owned by nor represented either governing body, in any
       official capacity."

            This was true, for when Captain Garth of Izar had been
       institutionalized, he was stripped of all powers of diplomacy or
       Federation representation.

            "Can you tell me about this ship?  Did it have a name, or
       registration number?  Anything about its design, external
       markings, anything?"

            "It did have a title written on the top of it. 'Fringe Ranger'
       is what it read," he said in a mellow voice. "If that is any help
       to you."

            "Indeed," Spock stated. "It adds an important piece to the
       puzzle."  Spock worked silently on how the piece could fit.
       "Captain, I have a hypothesis. I will need to have access to the
       ship's computer to corroborate it.  If I may contact the ship and
       have myself beamed aboard, it should only take a few minutes to
       gather and process the information I require."

            "Go, Spock," Jim said, finally hearing the first encouraging
       word of the day.

            "And, Captain," Spock said, "I believe, in light of this
       information, you may cancel our 'Noon' appointment."

            "Good, Spock. It will give me great pleasure to countermand
       the, uhm, appointment," he said with relief.  "Excuse me for a
       moment, please." he said to his host and stepped a few yards away.
       He pulled out his communicator, and opened a channel directly tied
       in to the ship's computer.  "Computer," he said quietly, "This is
       Captain James T. Kirk."

            "Working... identification confirmed," the Enterprise's
       computer said to its Captain.

            "Cancel auto-destruct sequence," Jim instructed the machine.

            "Auto destruct sequence has been canceled."

            Jim Kirk closed the communicator and he replaced it behind his
       back and pulled his shirt over it. Turning around he saw Spock
       begin to shimmer and disappear.  Ayelborne was standing strangely,
       with his eyes closed, as if he was engaged in deep concentration.
       McCoy had finished picking up his medical equipment and now stood
       beside the bear-thing, scanning it with his medical tool.

            "Jim," he said, "this is amazing," he indicated the animal in
       front of him. "This 'Asher' is very similar to a Grizzly bear of
       Earth, but it is a vegetarian.  It contains no harmful bacteria in

                                       PAGE 87








       its body, and it seems to be utilizing nearly 100 percent of its
       brain."

            "That is amazing, Bones," Jim agreed, feeling a great weight
       off his shoulders.

            "That's not all Jim, It seems to also be able to consume 100
       percent of his dietary intake.  It has a small stomach and in its
       intestine, there's a naturally enlarged appendix that seems to
       store excess food and processes it only when necessary.  But that's
       still not all," he said excitedly, "The animal's intestine has no
       exit.  There is no waste."

            "Yes," Ayelborne said, opening his eyes, "on this world, all
       the animals are semi-intelligent, plant eaters, and there is no
       disease here." He turned to the Captain, with a serious look on his
       face.  "Captain Kirk," he began, "your Mr. Spock believes I have
       given him the answer to your problem... I have not," he stated
       somberly.  "I have given him, perhaps, a solution to the immediate
       predicament, but the problem runs far deeper than any of you
       realize."

            "What do you mean, Ayelborne?" Jim responded, truly interested
       in whatever information this man could offer.

            "First, Captain, I have been informed that you are on the brink
       of war.  A war that 'we' will not, by treaty, stop.  We do not know
       the details, but it is clear to my friend Claymare that 'you' will
       figure prominently in an attempt to halt it.  We are unsure that you
       will be able to, but this time we cannot assist."

            "A war that you won't stop?" Jim asked the man.

            "We are bound by the Treaty as are you and the Klingons.  But
       we will go no further than the treaty indicates." He looked at the
       Captain and saw that the man still did not understand.  "We connot
       allow your two opposing cultures to destroy each other and countless
       trillions of innocents with them... But there is a limit we have
       placed on ourselves, even for our own sakes.  We have not wanted to
       have contact with any being who embraces evil so easily as you."
       He spoke to Jim, not condescendingly but matter-of-factly.  "But
       for your sakes we have committed ourselves to the protection of
       both your races.  However, as I mentioned before, we will not be
       responsible for any 'police action'.  We will not interfere with
       your internal governments or anything outside of treaty bonds."

            Jim Kirk, felt that he comprehended the reason as to 'why' they
       had placed these restraints on themselves.  He likened it to the
       Federation's Prime Directive of non-interference.  But he could not
       understand the grounds for continually being referred to as 'evil'?

             "Ayelborne, I know we are not perfect," Jim began, in defense of
       his humanity, "but we are not without values.  We prize honor,
       justice, life, and most of all love.  Surely you can't call us evil
       with these noble qualities in us."


                                       PAGE 88








            "They are noble indeed, just as you say...  But Captain,"
       sorrow became evident in his voice, "with them you harbor malice,
       self-centeredness and pride. You lust for what you do not have,
       and when you attain it, it does not satisfy your greed.  You call
       good, evil and evil, good; ethics that are dependant only upon the
       situation and personal opinion, not founded on basic truths...
       Captain, do you not yet understand that it takes but a little poison
       to destroy the whole banquet?"

            Ayelborne spoke to the Captain, not as some 'Superior Being'
       smug with self-righteousness, nor as an accuser, but he spoke to
       Jim as one friend trying to help another.

            "Your race has advanced into outer space and found others to
       wage war against.  All the while you claim that you have changed,
       but what you mean is that socially and technologically you have
       advanced, but you remain the same within yourselves, lacking the
       ability to change your very nature."

            Jim listened intently to the man, not liking to see the truth
       about himself, not liking someone else to reveal it to him.  He
       knew this was what Ayelborne would call 'pride'.  "You said, once
       you were like us.  What enabled you to attain this 'peace' that you
       have, and the power to change?"

            "Once, we were like you, and with further contact it is
       conceivable that we could again be seduced into that way of thinking.
       That is the danger we fear most," he added in all seriousness.  "I
       will give you our secret... that has never been secret:"

            With that announcement, Bones stood up and gave the being his
       full attention too.

            "You, as all beings everywhere, have heard the message of
       peace.  Now as ever, it is up to you to accept or reject it."  His
       voice sounded hopeful, for the first time this day.  Ayelborne
       continued.  "Press on into space, Captain...  Advance; find new
       worlds; search the stars and attain what was once thought
       unattainable.  But do not forget the Creator who caused it all to
       be.  Do not leave His truth behind you as you go. Do not allow the
       One who made you and gave you purpose to become hated, or worse...
       ignored."

            Dr. McCoy looked at Jim, who seemed thoughtful of the saying,
       and then to Ayelborne, "That's it?" asked Bones incredulously, dis-
       liking what he would call 'being preached to'. "That's the Big
       secret?"

            "Do not mistake its simplicity with folly, Doctor. If the
       solution were not so easy, only the intelligent and educated would
       find peace.  If it were difficult, no child, no unlearned, no
       simple in mind would be able to take hold of this peace.  It is
       'mercifully' easy and is the only true way of peace in this creation
       we call the universe.  But it first starts with the believing, before
       you can receive it.  It begins with the simple faith that 'God is'."


                                       PAGE 89








            Spock suddenly appeared behind Bones.  As a shimmer at first,
       then whole and complete.

            Ayelborne pointed to the Vulcan.  "Ask your companion who is
       schooled in logic.  Ask him if there be a God, as is consistently
       believed in on all worlds, is it not logical that wise men still
       seek Him?  Is it not equally logical that He provide a way to be
       found?"

            Spock looked momentarily uncomfortable; as if he had walked
       into the middle of a discussion... which he had.  He was able to
       hear Ayelborne's words and felt compelled to comment. "The argument
       that you offer, Ayelborne, appears to be 'quite' logical.  I might
       ask however, to which God is it that you refer, and what 'way' to
       him are you suggesting?"

            Ayelborne smiled for the first time.  "I know that there are
       many beliefs.  In times past, even to this day, people worshipped
       stone and wood images, they worshipped the trees and animals, even
       other people.  They worshipped the planets and the stars. I refer
       to the One who made all that is; seen and unseen. It is the Creator
       we know and glorify, not the creation," the gentle man said.  "The
       'way' is the one way that was provided by Him.  All have heard of
       it, though most still disregard it."  He turned to Jim.  "Your word
       for him is 'The Christ'.  Mr. Spock's is 'The Ancient T'alal'."

            "Interesting..." Spock stated thoughtfully. "I have often
       reflected upon the many parallels of the words and deeds of T'alal,
       in comparison to that of Christ.  The only substantial differences
       are cultural in nature, the fundamentals are identical.  Even the
       stories of Eden, compare to that of Sha Ka Ree and there are many
       other similarities.  It is indeed something to consider."

            Jim's thoughts were of how much the worlds, and peoples of the
       universe had in common, but have failed to see a common design.
       He realized then that, though he wanted to hear more, he had
       serious worries about this 'war', Ayelborne mentioned.  "Spock," he
       said, knowing that he was breaking the spirit of the moment, "what
       have you come up with?"

            "Captain, I have two hypotheses," Spock stated, "both of
       which implicate not the Klingon Empire, but Commodore Stormcloud.
       I searched the Commodore's recent travel history to help
       corroborate my suspicion.  It seems that he personally visited Elba
       II, 2.3 months ago, and had spent an entire week there.  His stay
       was almost exclusively devoted to visiting former Captain Garth.
       Upon leaving the planet, he made a direct trip to the planet
       Tolmera.  The justification for the trip was filed as 'classified'.
       My conclusion is this; that either A:  Commodore Stormcloud is the
       primary person responsible for engineering the destruction of Elba
       II and outpost Delta Gamma 13.  This being done in order to
       implicate the Klingons with the Organian people, giving him excuse
       to start a war... and end Organia's ability to prevent it."

            "And hypothesis 'B'?" Jim asked.


                                       PAGE 90








            "That Commodore Stormcloud is merely a pawn in a much greater
       game.  That Garth, the Izarian, was possibly 'not' cured of his
       madness as we had thought, and that he escaped his imprisonment
       with Stormcloud's direct or indirect assistance and has fled to the
       Klingon Empire to wreak destruction and perhaps fulfill his
       intentions of galactic conquest," Spock concluded.

            "You are certain about Stormcloud?" Jim questioned, inwardly
       hoping that hypothesis 'A' was the correct one.

            "We have motive: His expressed views while in conference on
       the Javelin, coupled with our orders for the destruction of Organia.
       We have opportunity:  His stay on Elba II and voyage to Tolmera.
       We have the intended weapons:  The Enterprise, the Tolmerian
       android and the Fringe Ranger.  I believe we have enough evidence
       to initiate a general court-martial."

            "Good work, Spock.  Now maybe we can do something to stop this
       insanity before it begins." he said, forgetting the words of war
       prophesied to him.  But only for a moment.  He turned to Ayelborne,
       "It's not going to be stopped in time, is it?" he asked solemnly.

            Ayelborne responded, equally as solemn, "No, Captain. I am
       afraid it will not."

            "Is there anything you can tell us that will help?" Jim asked.

            "Yes, though I do not know the significance of it." he
       remembered the words of days past, when Claymare foretold the
       Captain's coming.  "A Klingon battleship is on its way here.  It
       will arrive in a matter of minutes."

            "A Klingon Cruiser?  Why?" Jim questioned.

            "I can only assume that it is here for the same reasons as
       you.  The need for answers to questions of happenings in their
       part of the galaxy.  You may find that you can supply them with as
       many answers as they can supply you with." he offered, on a
       hopeful note.  Then, "Gentlemen, it is time that you return to your
       ship. Please," he said.

            Jim looked at the alien man, whose face seemed to be made for
       smiling, not for sadness.  They had come to this planet twice now,
       neither time had it been under peaceful circumstances.  Captain
       James T. Kirk regretted this.  He would have liked to demonstrate
       the virtuous ideals held by the Federation, the friendship that it
       offered and the brotherhood that he enjoyed in it.  But the Captain
       thought that, perhaps even their very best paled against what the
       Organians had offered them.

            "Ayelborne," Jim said, wanting to express his sorrow for all
       that had been brought to this peaceful world.  He wanted to
       apologize for every angry thought that he and others in the
       Federation had harbored towards them.  He wanted to tell him of how
       he wished he could stay longer and become friends with the people
       of this world.  All he could manage in the end was, "I wish

                                       PAGE 91








       things were different."

            Ayelborne looked him in the eye, "Captain, my friend... things
       will be.  Don't forget." he said, as he began to glow and change
       into a being of pure light. "Don't forget." He vanished, but was
       not gone.  Asher looked up as if he knew exactly where his master
       was, and began to wag his tail.  The huge animal got up off of the
       ground and seemed to follow the invisible man back the way they had
       come.  He stopped, looked back at the strangers, smiled pleasantly
       at them and entered the forest.

            "The more I know about this place," the Doctor stated, "the
       less I understand."

            "Gentlemen," Jim said, "let's get back to the ship."










































                                       PAGE 92



                              ***    FOURTEEN   ***



            The Starship Javelin slowed as it neared the Neutral Zone,
       where it took its place ahead of the other cruisers.  The
       Federation Fleet had arrived at the border of the Zone mere hours
       earlier.  Large and small craft alike faced the invisible boundary
       that had been established as a buffer to prevent war.  Small
       armored fighter craft swarmed and darted about the perimeter of the
       fleet in battle formation, ready to engage the enemy at a moment's
       notice. Six Constitution-Class Starships were there with twenty-
       two destroyers in protective formation around them.  The cruiser
       Javelin readied its weapons and with the rest of the Fleet, it
       waited.

            On the bridge of the Javelin, Commodore Stormcloud stood
       behind the captain's chair, rehearsing in his mind the plans of
       Garth's war.  He knew his part well.  He would play himself,
       'Stormcloud the Klingon hater'.  The idea was his to send the
       android to destroy Organia, one he was singularly proud of.  Garth
       had said that it was unnecessary. 'Perhaps', thought the Commodore,
       'but it would be a shame to have the new empire of the elite
       delayed or halted by underestimating their place in the equation'.

            Stormcloud had not always been a man bent on the destruction
       of the 'Romulan' and 'Klingon' Empires. Once he would have even
       been pleased to have participated in friendly relations with both
       empires. That was before the Romulans invaded Federation space
       three years ago and murdered his wife. Andrea Stormcloud was
       stationed on Outpost 4 bordering the Romulan Neutral Zone.  This
       particular Zone was established eight decades ago at the end of
       the 'Hundred Years War', the war between the Romulans and
       Interplanetary Coalition now known as the UFP.

            The Outposts there were older battle stations, the forerunners
       of the ones now guarding the Klingon Zone.  They were buried deep
       within asteroids, moons and planets along the perimeter of
       Federation space. The Romulans had been silent and had not even
       come near the Federation for nearly a century, until they decided
       to test their newly developed weapons on their former adversaries.

            Stormcloud's wife never saw the enemy who had come to destroy
       the Outpost. It was the first recorded time that the cloaking
       device, 'invisibility screen', and Photon Torpedoes had ever been
       tactically used against the Federation. The Outpost was woefully
       unprepared for the level of destruction that was wrought upon it.
       The Romulan ship mercilessly attacked and annihilated his wife's
       base of operations. None survived.

            Commodore Stormcloud had died with his wife that day.  The
       man who now stood on the bridge of the Javelin was a dark and
       angry dark and angry reflection of the man he once was. The only
       joy he had now was the joy of the enemy's death at hand.

            Commodore Nathaniel Stormcloud looked down at the Captain of

                                       PAGE 93








       the Space Cruiser. He did not know if anyone on board the ship
       would survive the weeks that were in store for them. He almost wished
       that he could share with Captain Hamill the secret he kept.  He had
       grown to respect the man, but he would not allow himself to form a
       friendship with him or anyone. He would never again give a hostage
       to fortune.  Not in this universe. Perhaps in the next.

            "Please establish ship to ships communication, Captain
       Hamill," Stormcloud requested.

            The Captain did not turn from the viewscreen.  He pointed his
       thumb over his shoulder and the communications officer understood
       it as a command. "Channel open, scramble code 3, Sir," the Junior
       Officer said.

            "This is Stormcloud. Operation Barrier Reef is now under my
       command.  Our present complement of Starships and Destroyers
       deployed here are merely the Vanguard of this defensive strategy.
       More are either on the way, or have already taken positions out of
       sensor range behind us.  We are in the process of recommissioning
       and rearming much of the old Fleet, but they will not be
       operational for several weeks."  Stormcloud paused to clear his
       throat.

            "Although we expect a full frontal assault, the Federation
       President has ordered me to bridle our forces until invasion is
       confirmed.  Our last intelligence report has Klingon forces
       amassing directly ahead of our position.  In the event of attack,
       there remains the possibility of them employing the explosive that
       was used against Outpost DG-13.  Lateral warp maneuvers with
       angular convergence on the enemy will be our safest recourse
       should the weapon be used."

            "All communications are to be code-3, scrambled and only
       essential messages sent. Further  detailed briefing will be held at
       01:00 hours, this ship.  Any questions will be addressed then.
       Stormcloud out."

            Stormcloud watched the images of the space fleet on the
       forward viewer.  He watched and waited for a message that was sure
       to come at any moment.  The message would be from a Starbase or
       spacecraft reporting subspace disturbances caused by an explosion,
       on or quite near the planet Organia.  He did not doubt that the
       message would come, for time had expired on the little planet.  The
       Enterprise and her crew were a necessary sacrifice for freeing the
       Federation from the bondage of this imposed benevolence of the
       Organians. He would not allow himself even the barest regret at the
       loss of the famous Starship.

            The Commodore directed his thoughts backwards to the day that
       lord Garth invited him to join the ranks of the elitist group.
       Together, with the others who would surely flock to their call,
       they would purge the galaxy of its factions of anarchy.  They
       would bring the universe out of the hands of the legislators of
       morality, to the proper rule of lord Garth and the New Masters of
       the Galaxy. Garth had shown great strength of will and the

                                       PAGE 94








       singleness of purpose which Stormcloud admired deeply. The man's
       vision of the future, coupled with the designs and means to achieve
       it, had been embraced gladly by the Commodore. Now the fulfillment
       of this vision neared glorious realization.

            "Captain, I am reading the arrival of a dreadnought at the
       Klingon boundary."   The Javelin's Science Officer cut into the
       Commodore's meditation.  He then immediately updated his report.  "I
       now have seventy-nine targets on the scanner!" he continued. "Three
       of them are Romulan ships."

            "This is it," spoke Stormcloud, grimly. "Sound general
       quarters!"

            The alarm was ship-wide, and when detected by the other
       Federation vessels, it instantly went fleet-wide.  The Fleet
       formation was presently defensive, but it was now making
       preparation to go on the offensive at the Commodore's command.

            "Have any of the detected targets crossed over the Zone
       boundary?" Captain Hamill asked the Science Officer.

            "No, Sir, they are positioned as we are, still holding."

            "Captain," the communications officer cut in, "I am receiving
       a message from the Imperial Throneship, the dreadnought, Sir.
       They wish to approach us. Alone!"

            "Ask them for their terms, Captain." Stormcloud ordered.

            "On bridge speakers, Lieutenant," he commanded his Comm
       Officer. "This is Captain Hamill, of the Star Cruiser Javelin. Who
       are you and what are the terms you request in order to make your
       approach?"

            "This is Imperious Admiral Sorr of the Klingon Empire and we
       request no terms.  We will approach, unarmed and by ourselves.  We
       will make no aggressive moves," the voice responded over the ship's
       speakers. "His Imperial Highness, lord Mocdar Jek Tromok, wishes to
       speak to your highest in command. Would that be you, Captain
       Hamill?"

            "That would be Commodore Nathanial Stormcloud, representing
       the United Federation of Planets.  He is here and can hear you,"
       the Captain offered the Commodore his seat. Stormcloud sat his
       large frame in the command seat and waited for the 'new' Emperor,
       to address him.

            "This is Emperor Tromok.  Do we have your permission for our
       lone ship to approach the mighty Federation fleet?"

            "Emperor Tromok, I am Commodore Stormcloud, you have our
       permission to temporarily enter Federation Space. You may approach
       our fleet," he stated with authority. "Be aware that we will be
       intensely scanning your ship as you do so. We will also be watching
       your own 'mighty fleet', for any movement or aggressive behavior."

                                       PAGE 95








            "Understood. We are coming now," the Emperor announced.

            The Thunder broke the Klingonese boundary of the Zone and
       slowly increased speed to meet the Federation Fleet.  Scans from
       all Federation ships penetrated the lone behemoth as it neared
       them. No detection of the explosive of Garth's creation, nor any
       other weapon in active status, could be found. Nevertheless, this
       knowledge offered little comfort on the bridge of the Javelin. The
       situation could become explosive at any instant.

            "Has your scanning equipment given you acceptable readings?"
       the Emperor queried. The Thunder, still coming, breached the vast
       distance of the Zone.

            Stormcloud looked at the science station. The officer there
       gave him a nod and said, "I detect no active weapons, Sir. Not even
       the 'one in question'."

            "They are acceptable," Stormcloud stated, "if not satis-
       factory.  Let us be honest with one another, Emperor Tromok.  You
       could be holding an arsenal aboard your ship, but if it is in an
       inactive state, it remains undetectable. Therefore I ask you, what
       is your purpose here?  What is so important that you should leave
       your world, to face us alone and on 'our' side of the Zone?"

            "Peace, Commodore," the Emperor offered simply. "I am here to
       extend the hand of peace to all in the Federation."

            The bridge crew of the Javelin, including Captain Hamill,
       expressed their astonishment at the announcement.  Never before had
       the Klingon Empire, of its own free will, extended anything but
       the business end of a disruptor to the Federation.  Stormcloud
       remained unmoved by the declaration.

            "You offer what you cannot deliver, Emperor Tromok," the
       Commodore stated flatly. "Is there anything else that you would
       like to announce before we escort you back to your Empire?"

            "Yes, Commodore," Tromok announced grandly, "we wish to
       formally petition the United Federation of Planets for the Klingon
       Empire's Official entry into the coalition.  I request that council
       be held between the two governing bodies to establish peaceful
       relations to that end.  I believe that according to your Federation
       regulations, I may not be refused." he said confidently as if
       reading the directive directly from the Starfleet Manual.

            The Commodore gave indication of his rage before the ship's
       crew. He did not want to overplay his role, but if it were not
       Garth leading the Empire, he would have more than just 'indicated'
       his rage.

            "Mr. Land," Captain Hamill addressed his Comm Officer, "break
       Subspace silence.  Advise Starfleet that we are guaranteeing safe
       passage to the Klingon Emperor to UFP headquarters, Earth, on
       flight corridor .401 to .402."


                                       PAGE 96








            "Belay that order!" Stormcloud interrupted and squared himself
       off against the Captain. "We are not letting this Klingon remain in
       Federation space for another minute."

            "Commodore, we are bound by our most fundamental regulations
       to aid all beings who desire admittance to the Federation. I don't
       know what the Emperor is up to, but he knows our rules, and we have
       no choice but to honor them," Captain Hamill said.  He was not
       pleased with his duty, at the moment, but he would not let
       Stormcloud force him into any corner that would place his 'command'
       in jeopardy.

            Stormcloud remained silent for a moment, looking angrily at
       the unbudging, unflinching Captain. If there was any hesitation
       about allowing the Klingons into Federation Territory, Stormcloud
       had effectively driven it out of the Captain.  All according to
       plan.

            "Emperor Tromok," the Commodore said, "you appear to be quite
       correct in your interpretation of our regulations.  We will provide
       you with a protected flight corridor and escort to UFP
       headquarters, as requested." He shot another angry look at the
       Captain. "We request a demonstration of good faith by making some
       token gesture, say, having your fleet fall back with all weapons
       powered down."

            "I will do that and more," the Emperor boasted. "Does your
       equipment allow you to distinguish between Klingon and Romulan ship
       designs?"

            "It does," spoke Stormcloud.

            "Then you are able to detect the three Romulan vessels that
       are currently flanking my fleet?" he asked.

            "We are aware of them."

            "Commodore Stormcloud, in a gesture of our promising new
       friendship, I would like to announce that the Klingon Empire is
       publicly sanctioning the breaking of ties with the Romulan Empire.
       We hereby annul all treaties of our former alliance," Tromok
       stated.

            The Romulan Birds of Prey broke formation upon hearing the
       Emperor's proclamation. The ships turned from the fleet and headed
       away as evasively as their speed would allow. They were closely
       pursued by nine Klingon battle cruisers. The Romulan warships
       quickly sent their Empire subspace messages of their betrayal as
       they attempted their escape. They powered up their aft weaponry but
       upon seeing the mighty ships behind them, they decided stealth was
       a better option.  However, before the Vulcanoid warships could
       cloak themselves from their former allies, they were fired upon.
       Massive blasts of photon energy came at them from behind and they
       were quickly and mercilessly destroyed.

            Stormcloud relished the brief taste of revenge at seeing the

                                       PAGE 97








       three ships vaporize before his eyes. It did not satisfy him, but
       served well to whet his appetite for more to come.  He could
       imagine seeing Garth smile with another man's face on the bridge
       of the Thunder.  The 'way' was being paved without flaw. With the
       Romulan Empire insulted and injured by the Klingon Empire, they
       would surely be preparing for war.  The Federation would see this
       as a distinct threat to themselves and help expedite the alliance
       with the Klingons.

            Soon all would be searching for the one who would be able to
       deliver them from war, and lead them to a 'new age' of peace.
       Garth was ready to step in and offer the way to all who would hear.
       His way, his plan. Any opposition would be crushed, not just by
       Garth himself, but by the fearful and ignorant masses.  By the ones
       who would rather kill than be leaderless, hopeless.  The ones who
       would rather murder for a vision, any vision, than perish without
       one.  Fear and ignorance.  The greatest weapons in the Galaxy.
       Weapons that would, of a surety, be used.

            "You have an interesting way of cutting through the 'Red Tape'
       of diplomacy, Emperor Tromok. I hope, for your sake, that this
       policy does not extend into Federation relations." Stormcloud
       warned. "My Fleet will stay here to keep yours company,"
       Stormcloud said to the Klingon Ruler.  "You will follow this ship
       to the planet Earth. I will have myself transferred to the Starship
       Republic.  Captain Hamill will be your host and your guide."

            "We await your ship's lead. Tromok out."

            The Javelin turned about and set a direct course for the small
       blue planet in the Sol system.  It was followed closely, ominously,
       by the Klingon juggernaut, Thunder.  They were on their way to
       Earth.  Nothing stood in the way.
























                                       PAGE 98



                              ***    FIFTEEN    ***



            The Enterprise pulled herself higher above the planet that she
       orbited.  Her shiny hull lifted upwards and away from the strong
       gravitational pull of the blue world she very nearly embraced. Up
       into the star-spangled sky, where she was placed into a safer,
       standard orbit.  The damage that she had sustained within her tubular-
       shaped propulsion unit was unnoticeable from the exterior.  She
       still looked as if she could fight with the best of them, for, by
       most accounts, she was the best of them.

            In sickbay, Dr. M'Benga stood over Commander Montgomery
       Scott's bed and continued to argue with the Chief Engineer about
       not getting out of it. Nurse Chapel had been avoiding the Commander
       to delay getting herself involved in the same conversation with
       him.  His hand looked much better, and the lacerations on his face
       were closed and covered with synthetic skin. The missing finger
       would be replaced with a micro-bionic prosthetic digit which he
       could choose to wear or detach at his leisure. Mr. Scott did not
       like the idea of having a finger that could leap tall buildings in
       a single bound and determined within himself that he would only wear
       it to his sister's wedding, while playing the pipes, and to church.

            In his own quarters, Commander Spock was preparing an edited
       version of his log concerning the events on the planet Holberg 917g.
       Spock had promised his captain that he would be provided with a copy
       to compare with his own. Had it not been edited, it would cause Jim
       no small amount of confusion. Spock had not considered all the
       problems that locking away the Captain's memories would present, not
       that it would have prevented him from doing so.  He finished with
       his work and retrieved the flat memory square from the console.
       Rising from his desk, he exited his quarters and headed for the Main
       Bridge.  Any time now, they were expecting a visitor from the Klingon
       Empire. Spock wanted to be present for this interesting event
       foretold by Ayelborne.

            As the doors parted, allowing Spock entry to the bridge, he
       became immediately aware that his captain and Dr. McCoy were
       listening intently to a subspace message over the bridge speakers.
       Spock listened as well.  Starfleet was announcing that the
       Klingonese Emperor was on his way to Earth to join the United
       Federation of Planets. While this process of peace was taking
       place, all Starfleet vessels were ordered to maintain a low profile
       and refrain from even giving the appearance of hostility towards
       the Empire. It also mentioned the grave danger the Federation was
       now in with regards to the Romulan Empire. Spock walked over to
       his science station and recalibrated his instrument panel as he
       listened.

            While Sulu and Checkov listened, they exchanged glances of
       surprise and disbelief. "This is getting weirder all the time,"
       Sulu remarked to his partner at arms.

            "That is the end of the message, Sir," Uhura stated.

                                       PAGE 99








            Jim Kirk turned to Commander Spock. "Did you catch the
       message, Spock?" he asked.

            "I did, Captain. It would seem that we are not far from the
       war Ayelborne spoke of."

            That little word 'war' was very effective in getting the
       attention of the bridge crew. It seemed to instantly dash all
       hope of the peace they had just heard of into the abyss.  Not
       trusting the Klingons anyway, their hopes of peace with them had
       not been extremely high in the first place.

            "But the Klingons as allies?  The Romulans entering the
       picture?  That's not what I understood him to mean. He mentioned
       specifically 'police action'."

            Spock pondered the meaning from every angle. "I can think of
       no explanation, with the information we have currently obtained,
       that would connect all elements of the puzzle.  We must assume that
       there are still several missing pieces."

            "Well, sounds like we're doomed, ta me," McCoy said, only half
       jokingly.  "The Klingons are famous liars and the Romulans seldom
       bluff.  Maybe we should beam back down to Organia and go native."

            "Spock," Kirk said, ignoring the Doctor's comment, "analyze
       the Starfleet transmission.  Maybe it was a counterfeit engineered
       by the Klingon ship we are expecting."

            "Doubtful, Captain, but I shall examine it," Spock responded.

            "Captain?" Sulu asked. "May I ask about what you meant about
       us 'expecting' Klingons?" The sentence did not sound quite right to
       Sulu either.

            "I'm not sure myself, Sulu. But yes, we have been informed
       by the Organians that we should expect a Klingon warship soon,"
       Jim stated. "It is presumed that this will not be a hostile
       encounter. That's all we know."

            Checkov turned to his friend, "Do not try to figure eet out,
       or you'll go crazy...  Like de time ve ver in orbit around Psi 2000
       ven you tought you ver de vorld's greatest swordsman, and you had
       to rescue Uhura."

            "That wasn't my fault!" Sulu said, not too angrily. It had
       been a sensitive point, but one that was, with time, gaining its
       calluses. "Besides, Riley was the one who really went nuts on us."

            "That's ancient history," Jim said to the two, "gentlemen," In
       hopes that they did not bring to mind the fact that Kirk had lost
       control of himself during the incident being discussed.

            "Captain," Spock reported, "I have completed my analysis of
       the Starfleet transmission. It is genuine."


                                       PAGE 100








            "That's what I was afraid of," he said. "Spock, it has been
       quite a while since Ayelborne said the Klingon ship was coming. At
       the time, he said it would only be a matter of minutes."

            "That is what he indicated. I do not think that they would
       either misinform us or make an error about the point. The logical
       alternative is,"

            "The logical alternative is that they are already here."

            "Quite logical, Captain," Spock concurred.

            Jim had to stop himself from signalling a call to general
       quarters. The message they had just received forbade that unless
       there was no other option. "Uhura, open a wide band, short range
       channel and uncoded."

            The use of subspace as a broadcast medium was still
       impossible, but reception and local broadcast was undamaged.
       "Channel open now sir," the pretty, dark woman said.

            "Klingon vessel, this is Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship
       Enterprise.  We know you are out there.  Show yourself and we may
       be able to help each other," spoke Kirk.

            There was no response. The stars in front of them revealed
       nothing but the vacuous blackness between them.  "Klingon vessel,"
       Jim continued, "we have been down to the surface of Organia.  We
       now know that you are an innocent party concerning the destruction
       of Outpost Delta Gamma 13 and that our suspicion of your invading
       our space is untrue. We also have information involving the ship
       that did invade Klingon space. If you are interested then show
       yourself, or we will be on our way." Jim said, hoping to be able
       to spur an exchange of information with them.

            "Captain, look!" Uhura said, pointing at the viewer.  The
       Imperial Cruiser, Fury, became visible, not more than 1000 meters
       in front of them. The Predator class cruiser looked, to Kirk, like
       the deadly weapon that she was intended to be.

            "Captain Kirk," the familiar voice coming from the Klingon
       ship greeted Jim, "this is Command," he caught himself "This is
       Captain Kang.  It seems that the hand of providence would have us
       meet again."

            "It would seem," Jim agreed. "It would also seem that Starbase
       16 was able to return you to your people safely." Jim referred to
       the last time they had met: A time they had almost killed each
       other, more than once, and perhaps for all eternity. When Kirk and
       Kang had been forced to work together, to purge an enemy 'entity'
       from the Enterprise, an entity that forced them to fight, then
       healed their wounds that they might fight again and again. Kang's
       ship had been destroyed, so in the end the Enterprise had ferried
       the Klingon crew to Starbase 16, where they were processed and
       returned home.


                                       PAGE 101








            "I am here with them," Kang stated. "Enough with the obvious,
       Captain. You mentioned that you had information on the ship that
       has entered Klingon space? I would hear this news you offer."

            "Why don't we meet? Face to face. You could beam aboard and
       perhaps enlighten us to the event as well. We too have some
       questions that you may be able to provide answers to."

            "Kirk, my one-time enemy, what makes you think that I would
       enjoy being aboard your ship again?" he posed to the Starship
       Captain. "I will give you the same offer. In addition, I will
       guarantee that this ship is free from 'Hate Consuming Entities' and
       that you will not be harmed in any way."

            "You seem gracious today, Kang," Jim said, in partial jest.
       "My First Officer and I will take you up on the offer.  We'll be
       there shortly. Kirk out." he announced. "Lieutenant Uhura..."

            "Yes, Sir, channel closed." she said in anticipation of his
       command.

            "Lieutenant Uhura," Jim continued, "you have the Con."

            "Me, Sir?" she questioned. "I mean, Aye, Sir!" she said,
       rising from her station and removing her ear-peace. Her first duty
       would be ordering her replacement for communications.

            "Let's go, Spock.  We have to stop a war that has yet to
       begin," the Captain reminded the one person who never needed
       reminding. Dr. McCoy decided that it was time he returned to
       sickbay, and followed Spock and Jim to the turbo-lift.

            Uhura set herself down in the seat of command. She placed an
       arm on each rest and felt the comfort of the chair.  "Oh boys?"
       she said to Checkov and Sulu, as the lift doors closed. They both
       slowly turned to her, wary of her tone of voice.  "If you are going
       to continue exchanging any more jokes...  they had all better be in
       good taste," she said sternly but with a partial smile on her
       face.  "That is an order," she purposely added.

            The two looked at each other for a moment, resigning
       themselves to her authority. "Yes, ma'am," They said at the same
       time and dejectedly turned back to their stations. She rested back
       into the chair, sorry that her orders were only temporary.

            In the lift, Spock handed his captain the small flat square,
       that was his altered log entry. The Captain placed it in his pocket
       with a "Thanks, Spock," and the doors opened to let the Doctor off
       at sickbay.

            "Be careful Jim," Bones said as they parted company.

            "Have you ever known me to be otherwise, Doctor?" Jim asked
       and quickly added, "Don't answer that!  G'bye, Bones."

            The doors closed again. When next they opened, both Jim and

                                       PAGE 102








       Spock exited the lift and headed for the transporter room. Jim
       noted to himself that he had been down here more times than usual
       in the past few days. The maintenance crew was working diligently
       on repairing the broken unit. Kyle was again on duty, and entreated
       the two officers to choose a pad.

            "Coordinates are coming through now, Sir," Kyle spoke to his
       captain. "Ready to transport."

            "Energize, Mr. Kyle."

            The two men faded into oblivion, hopefully to be restored to
       completeness on board the Klingon warship that faced the
       Enterprise.











































                                       PAGE 103



                              ***    SIXTEEN    ***



            The Imperial Cruiser Fury had intercepted the uncoded
       Starfleet message declaring the possibility of 'peace' between the
       two opposing powers.  It caused a great amount of controversy among
       Kang's crew.  They, much like their Federation counterparts, were
       first struck by unbelief.  Kang had told them that it did in fact
       appear to be true, but alluded to the fact that there might be
       something strangely wrong with the Emperor. He said it in such a
       way as to avoid any suspicion of treason. It came out the way Kang
       had intended, as concern for his Emperor's well-being.  Wanting to
       inform them all along of the treacherous evil who now walked the
       Throneship Thunder, he satisfied himself with the fact that he was
       able to instill an amount of doubt on His Majesty.

            Kang could not allow his crew to know that he was actually
       'glad' to see the Enterprise. Perhaps this was the ally he had
       needed so desperately. He let himself hope that it was so. Though
       it would be difficult attempting any co-operative venture with
       Captain Kirk, at least the meeting with him would raise no
       questions. It had been scheduled with credibility. They would
       value any information on the invading ship and the deadly cargo
       she cradled.

            "Mara, Gor, I will meet with Kirk and his First Officer alone.
       You both will stand outside my personal chambers and await my
       summons," Kang commanded. The two affirmed his order and followed
       him off the bridge to the transporter room. Two images began to
       take shape in the dimly lit, strangely hazy room. Captain Kirk
       became recognizable with his Number One Officer beside him, then
       they were complete.

            "Captain Kirk, if pleasantries suit the day, welcome," Kang
       said. "I will lead you to a place of privacy, where we may discuss
       the matters of invasion and matters of peace."

            "Thank you, Captain," Jim said. He and Spock stepped off the
       platform and stood beside the Klingon.

            "I trust you remember my First Officer, Mara?" Kang asked the
       two from the Federation.

            "I remember her bravery that rivaled her beauty," the Captain
       said, nodding to her. He was tempted to take her hand and kiss it,
       just to add an element of finesse to the greeting. She remained
       unmoved by the complement, though recognizing the effort on Kirk's
       behalf of being cordial.

            "This is Gor, my Communications Officer," Kang stated, wanting
       to be done with the awkwardness of the introductions.  "Gor," Jim
       acknowledged. "This is my First Officer, Spock." The Vulcan gave a
       slight bow to their Hosts.

            "Follow me," Kang stated, ushering them along. He led them

                                       PAGE 104








       down a short hall and into a room that looked more like a private
       study than a conference room. "That will be all until I notify you
       further," Kang spoke to his officers and led Jim and Spock into
       the room.

            The heavy door closed behind them and Kang stood behind his
       desk and eyed the two men for a moment. Debating with himself on
       how the discussion should begin, he bid them to be seated as he
       took his own. Kang reminded himself of the importance of gaining
       Kirk's confidence. One Klingon was no match for the task of halting
       the Emperor's crusade. One Klingon was not enough, he admitted to
       himself, bruising the famous 'Klingon Pride' he had been bred to
       bear.

            "Kirk, I am in a position that I am unaccustomed to," Kang
       began in all honesty. "I am committing treason with what I am about
       to confide in you." He closed his eyes for a moment and pursed his
       lips as if he were about to eat something bitter. "I do not find
       it easy to give my trust to anyone.  I do not give it lightly to
       any in the Empire and never to an enemy...  until this day." Kang
       stopped.  He looked deep into Kirk's eyes. He remembered their
       ordeal on the Enterprise, months ago. He remembered the Captain's
       honor and bravery and came back believing that this man would keep
       the trust.

            "There is a devil, Captain," Kang stated assuredly.

            "I had been told that Klingons have no devil, Kang."

            "We have yours now, Kirk," the swarthy Captain said.  "He
       controls my Empire and he wears the face of my Emperor.  He is
       now on his way to Earth with words of peace and the weapons of
       destruction behind him. He is going to pull this universe and all
       in it into war, and then into the hell that only he will rule over."

            Jim looked gravely at Spock for confirmation of his own
       thoughts. Spock gave him the silent, serious nod of the
       affirmative.  "Kang, I believe that you have given us the last
       piece to a puzzle that has been stumping us for days." If the day
       called for honesty, Jim decided that it would be for the best if
       he shared the truth with this Klingon. "The devil you call Emperor,
       is a dangerous man that has escaped from a Federation mental
       institution.  His name is Garth of Izar, a former Starfleet
       Captain.  Once he was an honorable man, but he has been driven
       insane by the torment of injuries he had previously sustained.  He
       is the inventor of a terrible weapon that could be used to destroy
       the galaxy."

            "I have seen this weapon in use, but the one I speak of is no
       ordinary man, Captain Kirk.  He is able to 'become' my Emperor. No
       mere man could accomplish that," Kang stressed.

            "Garth is able to change his form and his voice to that of
       anyone.  I do not completely understand it but I am telling you the
       truth. If he has your Empire, then we all are in grave danger." Jim
       placed both hands on the desk before him.  Jim did not know the

                                       PAGE 105








       extent of the 'truth' that he should share with Kang, but he felt
       compelled to give him anything that might help. "Kang, we also have
       a powerful man in authority who wants to start this war. We
       believe that both he, Garth, and perhaps others of high rank in the
       Federation, had arranged this from the beginning.  His name is
       Commodore Stormcloud." Jim said, knowing he too was committing
       treason. "He sent us here, on the surface, to question the Organians
       about the destruction of two Federation Outposts.  Underneath and
       without our knowledge, he had a bomb prepared to blow up Organia
       and remove their hand from stopping the war."

            "I trust that you have dealt with this bomb. But regardless of
       that fact, I do not believe that the Organians will be able to
       prevent the war." Kang recalled the recorded speech of the
       'Emperor's' plans. He would let the two hear it if necessary.

            "That's what the Organians told us! How did you know?"

            "I believe that I may be able to provide you with an answer,
       Captain." Spock stated confidently. "With the initiation of the
       Klingon Empire to the United Federation of Planets, the treaty
       would be annulled by the unification of both document signers. If
       war was to break out, it would be a 'civil war', a police action,
       as Ayelborne pointed out. It would therefore fall under the heading
       of internal affairs," Spock concluded.

            "Garth had all the angles figured from the start, while we
       have been wasting our time chasing our tails!" Jim was enraged at
       himself, that it had taken so much time to see this truth, precious
       time that may cost the universe dearly.

            "Not all the angles, Captain," Spock responded. "He did not
       foresee the three of us. We now have the knowledge that he has
       tried to keep secret. There is still time to act."

            "Not without a plan, Spock, and boy, do we need a good one.
       Garth has certainly prepared for this. We haven't." He looked at
       his long-time friend.  "The time that we do have is precious little."

            "Precious little," Kang agreed.  "This Garth is already headed
       for your home planet, Kirk. He has a head start and certainly will
       not be an easy target, and he now has both Federation and Klingon
       protection." Kang warned. "The war may start immediately after the
       treaty is signed."

            "Then we must make sure that he does not sign," Spock stated,
       as if it were a solution within itself. "Captain Kang, the
       Enterprise is presently unable to transmit on subspace frequencies.
       If we were to use your equipment, we might be able to send enough
       information to Starfleet Headquarters, apprising them of the
       situation and perhaps persuading them to take action."

            "If we transmit anything in subspace, my government will know
       that it came from this ship. We will be hunted down and killed by
       our own countrymen." Kang stated with a surety.  "I will, of


                                       PAGE 106







       course, accept that fate, but only if you can guarantee that the war
       will be halted and leadership of my government returns to its
       rightful Emperor."

            Jim looked down to his own hands on the table, the hands of a
       Starship Captain, too often powerless, too often chained.  "I
       can't guarantee anything, Kang. I have been told by the Organians
       that there will be war." Jim said. "It may not be preventable, but
       it might be able to be stopped before it escalates to the point of
       no return."

            "That is not good enough, Kirk." Kang sat forward in his
       chair.  "The throne of the Klingon Empire must be restored.  This
       Garth must be destroyed. Nothing short of that will turn my Empire
       from the 'Glory' they have been promised by him."

            "I believe that Kang is correct," Spock said to his captain.
       "If we are to stop Garth, we will need Garth himself as evidence of
       the deception. Our proof of his involvement is largely based on
       conjecture.  It may be enough to persuade some, but not all. If we
       transmit what facts we do have, we will, in essence, 'tip our hand'
       to the enemy."

            "Then we've got to get to Earth.  We must try to stop him
       there." Jim said with resolve.

            "Captain, with the damage to our ship, warp 4 is our maximum
       emergency speed. Garth could be back to the Klingon side of the
       Neutral Zone long before we could reach Earth," Spock pointed out
       the fact.

            "My ship has been strained, but is undamaged. It might be able
       to reach your Earth on time," Kang offered as a ray of hope to the
       dim future before them.  "It could at least give them a good race."

            "Kang, until the treaty is signed, your ship would not be
       allowed to cross our side of the Zone by the Organians.  It would
       still be a violation of the Treaty."  Jim paused in thought.
       "...Unless you were to surrender your vessel to me."

            Kang was shocked at the mere mention of such a thing. He knew
       that the suggestion was not a surrender under threat of fire, and
       it was more of a formality than anything, but it had never been an
       option in the past. It was their code to die rather than surrender.
       "My crew would never accept it, Kirk. I find it difficult to
       stomach, myself."

            "If we are worthy of your trust, is not your crew also?"
       stated Spock as though it were not a question.

            "My crew would not be as easily swayed to deny their loyalty
       to the Emperor. We would be hard-pressed to convince them all."

            Spock was aware that loyalty would be a difficult hurdle but
       knew the attempt must be made. "We have some proof of the deception
       that could be made available to them.  We have files on Garth,


                                       PAGE 107







       explaining his condition, his explosive and his metamorphosis
       capabilities.  You could present these facts and lead them to the
       truthful conclusion." Spock stood from his chair.  "I could have
       the information compiled and copied in a short amount of time."

            "Well, Kang, what do you say?" Jim asked. "All or nothing,
       seems to be the 'order of the day'."

            Kang became silent. He thought long about all that had
       transpired since the day the Fringe Ranger crossed over the Neutral
       Zone. He had to do something to stop the flames that were consuming
       the very throne of Klinzhai. He could think of no other options
       than to fall in with his enemy, to trust Captain James T. Kirk with
       the future of the Empire. "I see no alternative. I will take your
       evidence and present it to my crew, but it will be their decision
       whether or not to mutiny and kill their Commander."

            "I'll be there to help." Kirk extended his hand in friendship.
       "Let me collect some things of mine and I will return to make the
       journey with you."

            Kang took his hand and shook it in the 'Earther's' tradition.
       He pressed a button and summoned Mara and Gor.  "These must be the
       first to know the truth. May they assist your First Officer in
       gathering the information?"

            The two Klingon officers stood before Kang, not having the
       vaguest idea as to what their Captain proposed. They could tell,
       whatever it was, it was of great import to him.

            "They will be welcome," Jim said as he pulled out his
       communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise.  Four to beam up."

            "Keep our trust, Captain. That is all I have left." Kang said
       as they were caught by the field wave of the transporter and
       disappeared.



                                 *         *         *



            Captain Kirk returned to his cabin aboard the Enterprise.
       Time was less a friend than his Klingon counterpart. Jim sat on
       his bed and faced the half-wall next to it.  There, imbedded
       within, was his personal safe. He pressed the proper sequence of
       buttons to allow admittance into the small cubbyhole safe.  He had
       not been in it for weeks and it looked, well, different to him.
       The contents seemed to have been altered upon his first glance.
       Then he noticed, there in the back, something new to the private
       locker.

            There was a vellum manuscript, some 40 pages thick, on top of
       his medallion case.  He removed it carefully, knowing the age-worn
       volume was delicate. Gingerly, he opened the cover and saw the


                                       PAGE 108







       Latin words on the animal-skin page.  Unnoticed by Jim as it fell
       to the floor, was a note written in English to the Captain. Jim
       looked at the Roman style type on the manuscript, examining the
       impressions of each letter with the tips of his fingers.  Though
       his knowledge of the language was rusty, he recognized the passages
       that were before him.  He turned it over in his hand, amazed at
       what he found. 'Time for this mystery later,' he thought to himself,
       and with care, he placed the pages back into his safe.

            He removed what he had come in for in the first place.  He
       looked at the phaser, now in his hand. Remembering the setup of the
       Federation Auditorium, he knew there were many stationary weapons
       detectors maintaining the Council Member's security.  He would
       have to modify his phaser setting for an invisible beam, and
       'illegally' place his weapon on silent discharge.  His aim needed
       to be extremely accurate to hit the weapons detectors from a
       greater distance than their detection range. At least he would be
       granted access to the Council Room by his rank, and then would be
       within range of Garth.  It was his intention not to be seen by the
       man, but merely hit him with a heavy stun beam and let the audience
       see who wore the 'Emperor's New Clothes'. When unconscious, as
       Spock had proven months ago, Garth would revert back to his own
       form.

            The chime to his cabin rang. Before he could say 'come in,'
       Bones barged into the room.

            "Jim, what the heck do you think you are doing!" he said to
       'Jim Kirk', his friend, not to 'Captain James T.  Kirk'.

            "Let me guess," Kirk said, knowing he would be having this
       argument with the Doctor sooner or later. "You badgered Spock into
       telling you what I had already planned to tell you later?"

            "So what if I did? You're about to do one of the most
       foolhardy things I can think of in recent history. What makes you
       think Kang won't kill you in your sleep, or take you hostage and
       hide you somewhere in the Empire?" The Doctor spoke with deep
       concern and anger at the very idea.

            "Because he needs me, Bones, as much as we need him.  If we
       don't try this, we will be at war with the Klingons and the
       Romulans in a matter of weeks, maybe days." Jim looked at McCoy,
       knowing his friend was deeply worried for his sake. "If Garth isn't
       stopped now, Bones, we may never get a second chance."

            Doctor McCoy looked at him hard and set his jaw. "Why does it
       always have to be us who has the weight of the Federation on our
       shoulders?" The Doctor asked bitterly. "Why is it always James T.
       Kirk who has to put his life on the line for an enemy who would
       just as soon kill you as look at you?"

            Jim looked at the Doctor, with a compassion that did not
       diminish his resolve.  "The same reason a Starship's doctor would
       risk his own life to save the wife and unborn child of the High
       Teer of Capella, or take the place of his friends, allowing himself


                                       PAGE 109







       to be tortured by the Vians on Minara.  Because, Bones, deep down
       we both know that there is nothing in this universe worth living
       for... if it is not also worth dying for."

            McCoy knew he was as guilty as his Captain when it came to
       putting his life on the line. The knowledge didn't help much.
       Klingons were too dangerous and untrustworthy to safely deal with
       from across the Neutral Zone, not to mention, while among them.

            "Jim, you know full well..."

            "I'm going Bones," Captain Kirk said. "If you don't have
       anything that will help me, then just wish me luck."

            Dr. McCoy knew at that moment that he would not be able to
       change his friend's mind. He was fairly certain before, but that
       did not stop him from trying. McCoy removed the tri-corder from
       around his neck and set it on Jim's desk. He also removed a medi-
       scanner from his bag, and set it next to the tri-corder.

            "I've found something that might help," he stated, somewhat
       dejectedly.

            "What is it, Bones?"

            "I was helping Spock gather his information on Garth for
       those... those Klingons," he said with disdain. "While I was, I
       discovered something that I hadn't noticed before. Garth has a very
       small 'spinal anomaly' for lack of a better word for it. It was
       on file in his medical records from Elba II.  It was thought to be
       a piece of vertebral cartilage that had been fractionated from its
       host, during his accident on Antos IV."

            "Ok, Bones, I'll take your word for it," the Captain said.
       "What about it?"

            "The very first time Garth altered his shape to that of
       Governor Cory, the guard and attending Doctor who found him in his
       cell let him out. The Doctor scanned him for injuries and released
       him, thinking it was the Governor. After he was found out to be
       Garth in disguise, he was returned to his cell but the medical
       record of the doctor's scan was placed in the Governor's file, not
       Garth's."

            "I'm with you so far. Go on."

            "In addition to Garth's file, I have a file on everyone who
       was on Elba II, including Governor Cory. While Spock was
       concentrating on Garth's file, I was killing time and browsed through
       Cory's file. They all appeared to be normal, with the exception of
       one entry, where his medical record showed that he had the exact same
       'spinal anomaly' as Garth." McCoy looked at Jim, who was trying to
       piece the information together.  "Jim, Garth can alter his shape,
       internally and externally, even his clothing. But this little anomaly
       never changes, no matter who he looks like."

            "You mean we can trace him by scanning for this 'anomaly,'

                                       PAGE 110








       if we need to?"

            "Yes, Jim. With this medical scanner, if you are close enough.
       You can see the reading on the tri-corder and be able to identify
       him if he changes shape to hide or get away."

            "That is helpful, Bones. What is the range on this thing?" Jim
       asked.

            "Without the tri-corder, about one meter. But with it, I have
       been able to stretch the sensor output to 15 meters with accuracy,"
       the doctor said with a small amount of pride.

            "Very good. I just hope I get a chance to be that close to
       him."

            "That's not all, Jim," the Doctor said. "I believe what the
       other doctor's thought was cartilage on Garth's spine, is really
       the 'organ' that allows Garth to change shape. If it is, then once
       Garth is captive the organ can be removed."

            "There are a lot of if's, Doctor, but if things work out, I'll
       make sure the attending physician is aware of that fact," Jim said,
       placing the phaser to his hip. "It's about time to go," he
       announced, none too eagerly.

            "Jim," the Doctor said as the Captain picked up the medical
       equipment. "For God's sake, be careful."

            "For my own sake as well, Bones. I'll see you in two weeks or
       so," he said to his friend. And they both left the cabin, each
       heading in the opposite direction, down the corridor.

            Spock met Jim in the transporter room with the two Klingon
       guests.  They had their hands full of information that would, with
       any luck, prove to the crew of the Fury that their Emperor was not
       from the Klingon Realm.

            "They are ready, Captain," Spock stated. "Both are now
       convinced, themselves, and ready for the task at hand."

            "It will not be easy," Jim said to the two, "but now you
       realize the cost of failure."

            They both looked at the Captain with all seriousness.  The
       gravity of the situation had been instilled within them and they
       seemed to be prepared to face the day.

            "Captain," Spock began, "I request that I take your place
       aboard the Klingon vessel. I am quite capable of carrying out the
       mission, and am not indispensable. Logically the Captain should not
       be displaced from his ship for any prolonged length of time, and
       certainly not placed at such risk."

            "I will neither order, nor allow any Officer to take part in,
       what we both agree is a 'treasonous activity' when I am perfectly

                                       PAGE 111








       capable of doing it myself." The statement did not come out as the
       Captain had intended it, but Spock understood what was meant by it.
       "Besides," Jim said, "you have a mission of your own. Stormcloud
       must be arrested, and the evidence of Garth's deception must be
       taken to the Neutral Zone. Since you are limited to warp 4, it
       doesn't give you any time to stand around arguing with your
       Captain."

            "Agreed, Captain." He stepped back from the transporter
       platform.

            "And, Spock, you might see what you can 'make' out of
       Lieutenant Grensk," Jim hinted, "His 'heart' may not be in it, but
       he'd make a good 'Weapon's Officer' in a pinch."

            "Understood, Captain." Spock raised his right hand in the
       traditional Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper, Jim."

            "Good bye, Spock," Jim said. Then to Lieutenant Kyle,

            "Energize," and the Captain and his company, were no more.




































                                       PAGE 112



                              ***    SEVENTEEN    ***



            Earth was in its mid 23rd century, as counted from the
       approximate birth date, of their Christ. The inhabitants of this
       beautiful planet had nearly destroyed themselves numerous times
       throughout their bloody 6000 year history.  Most recently their
       greatest planetary dilemma was tackling the fear of a gradual
       'Global Warming'. They had spent nearly one-hundred years of effort
       in an attempt to replenish the Ozone layer, only to find that there
       was no real 'warming' taking place. The genuine problem was that
       increasing amounts of deadly multi-spectrum radiation had been
       entering the atmosphere, slowly irradiating the planet. The primary
       cause was found to be in the Earth's sphere of Magnetism.  With a
       magnetic half-life of just 1,400 years (that is; every 1,400 years
       the magnetism, or Magnetic Moment of the Earth decreases in potency
       by one half) neither the Magnetosphere nor Thermosphere could
       effectively hinder cosmic radiation bombardment. There were many
       heated debates on how to handle this. It had come just short of
       dividing the United Nations Council, but that was nothing new.

            Many civilizations had arisen and fallen, since man had begun
       to govern himself on this small world.  But few had envisioned the
       latest form that now had authority over the globe. The United
       Nations Council, permanent member of the United Federation of
       Planets was now that authority.

            The Official Base of Operations of the United Federation of
       Planets now resided on the human's world. It had, in the past, been
       aboard an enormous space station, that was capable of holding tens
       of thousands of people. It later became more effective,
       logistically, to establish the base on a world, central to all
       members. Earth was an ideal choice, though it was not unilaterally
       thought so at first. Debates for the location lasted nine months
       before concessions were made.  It now resided on Earth, in the city
       of San Francisco.

            As reflected by Starfleet's Prime Directive, all worlds allied
       with the Federation have rights to their own form of planetary
       government. The Federation was an authoritative bridge between
       these governments. Its primary purpose was to maintain
       interplanetary peace and security between all races of beings
       within, and provide protection from hostile beings from without.
       Starfleet was the instrument of this security within Federation
       bounds.

            The sprawling complex, that was Federation Headquarters, now
       sits on some 1400 square acres. It boasts many atmospheric/
       gravitational controlled domes, that may be filled with whatever
       gas or liquid, any particular visiting dignitary would require, for
       respiration.  It contains housing that would suit representatives
       of all members and their aides, attending conference sessions. It
       intentionally was designed to accommodate all known species that
       were candidates for membership, and was prepared, at a moment's
       notice, to adjust to unknown 'future' memberships.

                                       PAGE 113








            This day, all over the UFP complex, frenzied activity was
       evident. To actually have the Klingon Emperor present on the planet
       was something that had surprised and astounded all.  For them to
       express the desire for admittance to the Federation was nothing
       short of incredible.  This was now seen as the most important event
       in galactic history, since the end of the Hundred Years War.

            Preparation for the Emperor's arrival, on such short notice,
       caused near chaos. All UFP Supreme Assembly members had been called
       to Earth.  All Federation Council members, temporary or otherwise,
       were requested to attend.  Every party who could cast their vote
       was either on Earth now, or enroute to the planet.

            Excitement and fear were mingling in the minds and hearts of
       all beings throughout the Federation. For Peace with the Klingons,
       they knew, could mean immediate War with the Romulans.  To some,
       this idea was a godsend. Finally a way to be rid of the ever
       present danger of invasion, from the Vulcanoid empire. To others,
       reconciliation with the Klingons was inconceivable. The evil that
       had been perpetrated by them was not forgivable by many.
       Notwithstanding, the Emperor was on his way, and he would be given
       full honors.  His admittance to the United Federation of planets,
       on the other hand, would be dealt with in its proper forum.

            A two-thirds vote would be required to pass the request for
       entry to the Federation. With the import of the request, and the
       urgency of it, deliberations would be held to a two day time limit
       after the Emperor's speech/request for admission. There were 3
       possibilities, that would be an immediate outcome of this historic
       event.  One, the Empire would become part of the Federation. Two,
       the Empire would not become part of the Federation. Or three,
       massive political turmoil would ensue from either vote and the
       result would split the Federation, plunging it into multiple wars
       and galactic chaos. This was truly an event that could change the
       Federation forever.  One which could easily spell the end of it.
       But that had been the plan all along.



                                   *         *         *



            It had taken days, at high warp, to reach the Sol system.  The
       massive Klingonese Dreadnought took its place in orbit around the
       blue world below. Many, many others shared the sky with the
       behemoth. The firmament fairly teemed with strange and various
       craft of both familiar and alien design. The Throneship had been
       allowed to raise its shields, just as a precaution, in self-
       defense against any who would take opportunity against it.  There
       are many who would joyfully promote the erasure of the Klingon
       Empire's most prominent citizen.  There were a great deal more who
       would like to see it happen, without being directly involved.

            Garth stood at his massive observation window, looking on the
       world below. His arms were folded behind his back and his stance

                                       PAGE 114








       was one belonging to the victorious. He would own this planet soon,
       he thought. One of many that would bear his name. Garth Prime he
       would call it.  The others would have numbers beside his name. He
       continued to meditate on the future. There would be attempts on his
       life at every corner, once he took his throne over the galaxy. He
       would be prepared for attack, be it by a fleet of ships or on a
       personal scale.  There were many levels of plans that he had
       devised, many twists and turns that he prepared for. Though he was
       certain all the while, that nothing could stop what he had set in
       motion.

            Someone requested entry into his private chamber. Garth
       quickly, easily, regained the form of Mocdar Jek Tromok, and
       allowed the door to unlock and open for the caller. Sorr entered
       the large room that was adorned with weapons, strange animal skins
       and objects of antiquity from a thousand systems. He walked over to
       his emperor and kneeled before the man at the window.

            "Rise and state your purpose, Admiral," spoke Garth.  He
       wished to be kneeled to, but not as the Klingon Emperor.

            "I wanted to inform you that your new warp-shuttle, will be
       quite difficult to engineer, but it is technologically feasible.
       It will be time consuming with all your specifications, but
       modifications of your current shuttle should not take more than 9
       days if we have our technicians working on it around the clock.
       Your new armor should take about as long," he concluded.

            The Admiral was beginning to wonder about the man before whom
       he had been kneeling. Tromok had given him a design to a powerful,
       armored battle suit, and shuttle craft that was nearly beyond their
       present level of technology. The Emperor had been schooled well,
       but he was never considered to hold more than a general knowledge
       of sub-micro circuitry, dyna-physics and Alpha wave hyper-
       processors.  It was as if the man on the throne had changed into
       some one different.

            "Good," spoke Emperor Garth, quite aware of the Admiral's
       slowly growing suspicion of himself. Garth had further secluded
       himself from all aboard the Thunder, these past days.  It had
       helped to the degree that he had desired.  Soon it would not
       matter.  "When does the Federation's Supreme Assembly expect me?"

            "In two of their Earth hours, my lord. The last of their
       delegates are just now arriving. They have had very little time to
       prepare for this day."

            Garth knew full well the paces he was running the Federation
       through. 'Keep them busy with their bureaucratic details,' he
       thought to himself. 'Let them engross themselves with policy and
       hastily choreographed procedure, then, when they are feeling the
       swell of false euphoria for a job well done, I will have them by
       the throat'. "Is there anything else, Admiral?" the image of Tromok
       questioned.

            "Nothing more to report, lord Tromok," The Admiral stated. "I,

                                       PAGE 115








       however, was wondering what will become of the intruder and his
       ship? Did you concede to bargain with him?"

            "I will personally deal with the intruder, immediately upon
       our return to the Klingon Realm. As to the bargain, his price was
       too high for the Empire. I have postponed payment until our return.
       For now, his ship has our protection.  That is all you need know."

            "Understood, lord Tromok. Our plan must not have been
       effective," Sorr said with a solemn certainty. "I blame myself for
       its failure."

            "There is still time for victory, Sorr. And plenty of glory to
       share," the Emperor stated.

            The Admiral nodded his head in agreement. "Lord, I must know,
       did my glove unit not work?"

            Garth had no idea. He really didn't care and he would not be
       trapped into making a guess on how to answer the question again. "I
       have a galaxy to claim, Admiral. We will discuss this later if I
       deem it important enough. You are dismissed."

            "Yes, my lord," the Admiral bowed and exited the large room.
       Garth relaxed his control over his form and returned to the
       visage of his own. He would need every bit of strength to maintain
       the Emperor guise on Earth. And he did not know how long he would
       need to look the part. It was made slightly easier, now that he had
       Tromok's actual wardrobe to wear.  Thus he only needed to force his
       flesh to look the part.

            He walked over to the giant view-port again, taking in the
       spectacular sunrise on the planet below. This would be his morning,
       his day and when night fell it would be his darkness.  He leaned
       his face against the clear barrier, between himself and the hard
       vacuum beyond. He stretched his arms out and closed his eyes,
       letting the first rays of the dawn enfold him. He smiled at the
       warmth of it and he began to chuckle to himself.



                                *         *         *



            First Officer's Log, Stardate: 5854.7.

            "I am now the 'Acting' Captain of the Starship Enterprise.
       Captain James T. Kirk is currently aboard, and in command of, the
       Klingon vessel Fury, on a direct heading for Earth. We are
       presently heading for the rendezvous point of the Federation Fleet
       at the Klingon Neutral Zone. It is my intention, upon arrival, to
       place Commodore Nathaniel Stormcloud under arrest for attempted
       murder, treason, and conspiracy charges. The evidence for this
       action is on file in main computer memory location: SO193622."


                                       PAGE 116








            "We are traveling at warp 3.779, which is our maximum safe
       speed due to the previously logged accident in engineering. With
       this limit on our rate of travel, I have serious doubts that we
       will arrive in time at the rendezvous site before war breaks out.
       It is hoped, nevertheless, that we will be able to stop it before
       it reaches an irreversible state."

            "In the interim, I have been working on arming a photon
       torpedo with the majority of the Garth explosive that was removed
       from the Android, formerly know as Lieutenant Grensk.  If needed,
       it will make an impressive display of power on behalf of the
       Federation. With Stormcloud under guard, the knowledge that 'the
       torpedo is the only one we have', may be secure.  Thus spurring the
       Klingons into believing that we have more in our arsenal."

            "Commander Montgomery Scott is now back on the active duty
       roster, but it is clear that there is no hope of repairing the
       damage to Enterprise's port warp propulsion unit.  We are, in
       essence, crippled for the duration."

            "As a Vulcan, it is difficult to determine what level of
       morale the crew is enjoying. It is my estimate that it has lowered
       considerably with the absence of Captain Kirk. I am personally
       unskilled at dealing with problems of this nature, as it is one
       derived from emotion. I have placed Mr. Sulu in charge of
       organizing various off-duty activities for the crew. I suggested to
       him that a seminar on gravitational and radiation fluctuations
       within a trinary star system, could both occupy and enlighten the
       crew. He did not seem to agree.  I have, therefore, given him my
       permission to engage the crew in an Earth ritual known as a Masked
       Ball. I will attend this 'Ball', but I have allowed Mr. Sulu to
       make the decision as to what costume I should wear."

            "End log."

            Spock sat in the Captain's chair, examining the duty roster
       that Yeoman Rand had given him. He saw that all was in order,
       placed his mark on it and returned it to the Yeoman.  "Thank you,"
       he said to her, conscious that humans needed to hear this verbal
       expression of gratitude, even when doing what was required of them.

            Spock meditated on how he would handle the arrest of Commodore
       Stormcloud. It was a danger to even approach the fleet, for in
       doing so, Stormcloud would be able to assess the failure of
       Enterprise's mission and perhaps turn the fleet against her. They
       were not able to alert the fleet of their intentions in advance,
       with Sub-space communications, so they would have to use the short
       range comm. system. In essence, this would mean that they would be
       within firing distance, before they would have the ability to voice
       the act of the Commodore's imminent detention.

            Spock had given Lt. Checkov the task of repositioning the
       Enterprise's aft, port and starboard shield-nodes to the front of
       the ship. He assigned him an engineering detail to assist him for
       that purpose. Spock had hopes that the quadrupled shield barrier to
       the fore-section would protect them from a possible frontal assault

                                       PAGE 117








       by their own comrades.  It could buy them enough time to make the
       arrest, but would leave them open to lateral and rear attack from
       any comers.  Spock was not certain that Captain Kirk would approve
       of this tactic. It was not completely logical, to be sure, but
       Spock's desire to see Stormcloud brought to justice and a war
       stopped, had motivated him. It was very much like a chess strategy
       he had recently learned. He wished he had a guarantee that it would
       work.

            "Checkov to Bridge. Mr Spock, ve are ready to test da shield
       integrity," the voice from the overhead speaker said.

            "Acknowledged," spoke the Acting-Captain. "Mr. Sulu, raise
       shields."

            "Aye, Sir, raising shields," he said and executed the
       procedures that brought the energy barriers up.

            The bridge lights dimmed for a moment, then regained their
       brilliance. "Shields are up, Sir, Quadruple front.  Should I test
       them at maximum power?" the Oriental officer questioned.

            "Yes, Mister Sulu, channel full power to the shields."

            Sulu increased the shield energy-strength with the controls
       before him.  The bridge lights dimmed again, and then completely
       went out.  "Uhmmm, Mr. Spock?  I think I've overloaded the
       circuits."

            "That is all too obvious, Mr. Sulu," Spock stated, as the much
       dimmer emergency lighting kicked in. "Mr. Checkov?  Are you still
       there?"

            "Yes, Sir," the ensign said sheepishly.

            "It appears that the power cable split at the main junction is
       not the most advantageous solution. I suggest that you start the
       engineering crew in hooking up three more junctions directly from
       the master panel."

            "Aye, Sir. Ve vere just tinking about doing dat," the ensign
       said.

            "Proceed, Mr. Checkov. Spock out."

            First Officer's log, supplemental.

            "It is my hope that the Captain will return to the
       Enterprise as rapidly as possible."

            End supplemental log.



                                  *         *         *


                                       PAGE 118








            Captain Kirk sat in Kang's private quarters, behind his desk
       and glanced over the information on the tri-corder, given to him by
       Dr. McCoy. He contemplated the procedure that both Mara and Kang
       had devised, in order to transport him down to the planet, when
       they arrived at Earth. If they uncloaked, they would be shot from
       the sky as 'hostile' enemies to both parties.  The transporters
       would not have enough power to beam him down, with the cloaking
       device engaged.  Therefore, it was decided to channel the Warp
       engine power through the transporter and beam the Captain down at
       warp speed.  It had never been done before.

            James T. Kirk was now the Captain of the Klingon cruiser.  A
       fact that had not been widely spread throughout the crew.  The ship
       was now divided in its loyalty, among the members who had been
       enlightened to their Emperor's identity.  A mere handful gave their
       continued loyalty to Kang.  It was a very dangerous situation for
       the vessel.

            Jim, Kang, Mara and Gor had held several sessions with crew
       members, illustrating the danger that both Empire and Federation
       were facing. Only a dozen had believed. The rest were now in direct
       opposition to Kang, and were preparing to take the ship. They were
       lead by the officer, Torvak. The opposition held two of the lower
       decks but were, for the moment, sealed in and temporarily
       contained.  It was thought prudent by all to keep Jim's status as
       Commander of the Fury, a secret, to avoid further division among
       the crew.

            Jim pressed the medical scanner's 'on' switch and looked at
       the readings on the tri-corder. They displayed typical human
       readings for a brief period, then jumped to radically different
       readings as the cabin's doors unbolted and parted, admitting both
       Kang and Mara.  Jim looked at the readings, then up to the two. He
       shut the medical equipment off and rose to meet the two.

            "Captain," Kang began, "there is no hope of arriving at your
       home planet in time. We shall be lucky if we reach Earth before the
       Thunder breaks orbit."

            "We must, Kang. Our plan will only work if we catch him in the
       open, with as many witnesses around him as possible."

            "There is the increasing danger that we may not reach your
       Earth at all," Mara spoke bluntly. "Our comrades are taking
       measures that may cripple our engines. It is possible that they
       will break through our barriers and storm this deck."

            "I have never doubted that possibility, Lieutenant," Jim said,
       giving credit to his formidable enemy; his new crew.  "Kang, have
       you distributed arms to our men?"

            "Yes, Captain, but I caution you that it is unwise to limit
       our disrupter's fire power, to stun-force. If the 'others' have
       found a way to arm themselves, they will intend to kill us with
       their weapons."


                                       PAGE 119








            "You suggest we use deadly force against your own crewmen?"
       Jim spoke his astonishment.

            "I have no desire to shed Klingon blood, Captain," Kang stated
       in stern sincerity, "but we risk failure and perhaps death at their
       hands if we show weakness of any kind.  They are honored and
       valiant brothers and they fight as I do, for the sake of the
       Empire. Yet I will sacrifice them all with a clean conscience, if
       needs be, to save my Empire.  They would do no less. That makes
       them all the more dangerous."

            "I don't want any needless deaths, Kang. All we need is to
       contain them for a few more hours." The thought was cut short as
       an explosion from the deck below rocked the ship from under them,
       casting all to the floor.  Shouts of battle were heard in the
       distance as Jim regained his ground.  "They're through the
       barricade!" he said drawing his phaser from behind his back.

            "They'll head straight for the bridge!" shouted Kang, as he
       lifted his wife to her feet and dashed out of the room.  Jim
       followed closely, running down the dim, and now, smoke filled hall.
       Both held their weapons tight in hand and slowed, as they neared
       the bend in the corridor.  Shadows of movement could be seen
       through the smoke, but Jim could not tell who it was that made
       them. Suddenly a disrupter blast sliced through the haze and burned
       itself into the wall behind them. The heat of the beam was felt on
       Kirk's face.

            Jim dropped low and fired three times, with the silent,
       invisible discharge of his weapon. Kang turned, knowing by the
       disturbance in the smoke, that Jim had returned fire.

            "You use a coward's weapon, Kirk. Where is the honor in
       felling an enemy, when he cannot even detect the threat?"

            "I suppose the 'honor' comes from knowing that my weapon won't
       kill, but their's will. The honor of the outgunned." Jim said
       clicking off two more shots into the thick, dark clouds.

            Kang acquiesced with a nod, and pressed his back against the
       corridor's smooth wall. He peered around the bend, then quickly
       pulled back, as several bursts of the deadly light beams streaked
       past him. "I can't see who it is we fight! It could be our side."

            "Switch to wide spread. We can take them all down, and sort
       through them afterwards!"

            The two men adjusted their weapons and rounded the corner, Jim
       down low on one knee and Kang, standing beside him. They blanketed
       the hall with the stunning energy beams, knowing that some would be
       missed by ducking into an entry-way or by shielding themselves with
       fallen bodies. Both Captains slowly moved down the hall, finding
       several un-conscious crewmen, lying still, on the deck.

            Kang looked at their faces as they made their way past the
       crewmen. "These are of the opposition.  We were fortunate thus

                                       PAGE 120








       far," Kang said.  Another deadly blue disrupter bolt shot between
       the two.  They raised their weapons again, and fired, hugging the
       walls of the corridor as they slowly advanced.  The din of muffled
       voices and distant shouts did not seem to be getting any nearer.
       Kang was, however, able to hear the battle cry of his
       Communications Officer Gor, holding the bridge from the opposition.
       Kang began to hasten their advance, for he knew that the odds would
       be at least 3 to 1 against Gor and the others on the bridge.

            More downed crewmen were found in the murky darkness as
       they neared the main access-way to the bridge. Thick dark smoke
       billowed out of the once-barricaded companionway. The air handlers
       were blowing the black clouds away from the bridge, making
       visibility much better once they were past the travel chute. It
       also made both Kirk and Kang visible to the rear of the mutinous
       crewmen.

            Gor, seeing them in the distance, behind the opposition
       forces, howled another battle cry, drawing attention to himself.
       Before Jim and Kang were seen, they fired on the crowd, and
       continued to fire until all were downed. Quickly, the two checked
       the crewmen for wounds and made certain that none were merely
       'playing' dead. Gor came towards them, unsteadily, leaving a trail
       of thick Klingon blood behind him.

            "Captain Kang," Gor managed weakly, "we... have prevailed."

            "You are wounded." Kang looked at his friend of years.  The
       side of the Officer's head was scorched by the intense heat of a
       narrow miss, but Kang saw the dark purple-red blood spilling out
       from under his breastplate. He could tell in an instant that the
       wound was fatal. "Sit, my friend." Kang grabbed Gor's shoulders and
       eased him to the deck.

            Jim looked at Kang. This man had once been a hated enemy. It
       was not long ago that Jim had thought Klingons were incapable of
       the compassion he was now a witness to. His eyes met Kang's. Jim
       silently expressed the look of hopefulness towards his ally, but
       Kang shook his head in a solemn response. Jim nodded to Kang that
       he understood, and would offer his condolences later, but the
       bridge was still open to attack, and not all crewmen were accounted
       for.  Jim stepped over another body and headed for the bridge
       entrance, disappearing inside.

            "Die well, my friend," Kang whispered to Gor, cradling his
       comrade's head in steady hands.

            "You will not do the same!" spat a familiar voice, from behind
       Kang.

            "You have lost, Torvak," Kang stated without turning from the
       dying man. "Our brother has paid the price for your mutiny. There
       is no need for further payment from either side."

            "I think you are mad, my former Captain, but in the least, you
       are incorrect."

                                       PAGE 121







            Kang looked up at his once eager, once innocent helmsman.  He
       saw Mara being held to Torvak's chest, a barbed razor sharp blade
       at her throat. Kang's heart froze in that instant.  Ejhak poison
       dripped from the jagged edges of the knife.

            "Mara will die, slowly, horribly, before your eyes," Torvak
       promised the man before him. "Unless I have my victory for the
       people of Klinzhai!"

            There was only one person who could be held against Kang, who
       could make him choose defeat over his Empire's salvation.  He had
       lived with the fact that she could lose her life in battle, a brave
       death that they would share, but not like this. He had once been
       able to lie to Jim Kirk about that point.  Long ago he had
       convinced Kirk that Mara was not a bargaining chip to be
       considered. His ploy bore fruit on that day, but Torvak would know
       better.

            Kang looked at his wife and took a deep breath. "I... yield,"
       he said, dropping his weapon to the deck and lowering his head
       slowly in grudging defeat.

            "The only Klingon who yields, is a dead one, my Captain!"
       Torvak spoke with victorious pride. "You may take your own life
       now, and die as a coward, or you may follow your beloved Mara."

            "Torvak," Mara tried to turn towards her captor, but was held
       fast by his powerful arm, "I beg you, do not do this." She held
       back most of her tears with great resolve. "I will do anything for
       his life, but spare him this, this indignity!"

            "Silence, my wife!" Kang commanded her, then to the man who
       held her.  "I will slay myself as you will, Torvak.  But not
       before you swear to me that Mara will neither be harmed, nor even
       touched by you again!"

            "I should not even consider making a bargain with one such as
       you." He looked at his former Captain with hate at what he had
       become, a traitor to the Glorious Empire. "But I give you my honor
       bound word that it shall be as you require.  NOW TAKE YOUR LIFE!"

            Kang looked to his wife as he removed his own dagger from the
       thigh scabbard he wore. Mara could not restrain herself and
       struggled, futilely against Torvak. Kang placed the hilt of the
       dagger on the deck, holding it with both hands and aiming the tip
       skyward. Klingon suicide was usually done in this fashion. The
       ritual was simple. Kang would drop his head forcefully down upon
       the blade, driving it far into his skull. Kang closed his eyes,
       keeping the image of his wife in his mind. He erected himself,
       preparing to thrust his head downward, when he heard a heavy thud.
       Opening his eyes, he saw Mara standing alone, Torvak sprawled on
       the floor behind her.

            Kang rose in anger, throwing the blade into the corridor's
       nearest bulkhead and turned around to see Kirk, still holding the
       phaser, standing in the doorway to the bridge. "You certainly took
       your time!" Kang said in a fury that he had been unable to direct

                                       PAGE 122








       at Torvak.  "I was nearly upon my blade!"

            "Sorry, Kang," Jim said in earnest. "I never saw a Klingon
       suicide before and didn't realize that I was seeing one until a
       moment before I fired."

            Mara fell to the floor in a faint, distracting Kang's anger
       and drawing him to her. Jim stepped over and looked at the bodies
       lying on the deck, then rubbed his hands together.  "Well we'd
       better be getting these men tied up soon, or we will have to go
       through this all over again."

            "Is the bridge secured?" Kang asked over his shoulder.

            "Yes," Jim said. "We are nearing the innermost systems of the
       Federation.  We should reach Earth in forty hours."

            Jim looked down at the fallen warriors, both the living and
       the lifeless, and was instantly filled with a sense of dread. 'The
       first men to fall, perhaps of many,' he thought to himself.  'And
       the galaxy may never be the same.'




































                                       PAGE 123



                              ***    EIGHTEEN    ***



            Earth: UFP Headquarters, Supreme Assembly Hall.
            Stardate: 5857.4

            Ambassadors from a multitude of worlds were present in the
       largest room of the stadium sized building. Alien races, both rare
       and familiar, filled their delegated seats of Federation member
       representation. They waited in silence as the President of the
       Assembly entered the stage and walked purposefully to his podium.
       The expression on his face betrayed the gravity of the
       circumstances which the Federation was about to face. His eyes
       looked heavy, and all knew that with the intense effort in
       preparation for this meeting, sleeplessness was one thing they all
       had in common. The President of the Assembly came to a stop behind
       the dais with the presidential emblem on it. He faced his audience
       with grace, as if addressing old friends.

            "Welcome, all races of the Federation," greeted the President,
       "to this, the most critical hour of our time. We have been forced
       into a position which could bring either galactic peace or
       unparalleled chaos to all worlds represented here."

            He looked upon the multitude of faces, seeing old friends and
       acquaintances, beings to whom his respect had been given and some
       of whom his respect had been strained.  Sarek of Vulcan was seated
       in the front row. It gave great comfort to the President, seeing
       his friend, knowing the Ambassador would promote stability in all
       decision making.

            "Unfortunately, there is not much time for a formal
       deliberation of all factors concerned in this matter.  Neither is
       there time to determine what consequences our decision here today
       will result in. The future ramifications of this day cannot be
       foretold, and I find myself feeling that we are caught between the
       hammer and the anvil, by our own directives."

            "Though I am aware of the danger of hasty judgements, I do not
       believe that we have the ability to hold off this vote of
       admittance to the Federation. We must bear that in mind as the
       Royal Emperor of the Klingon Realm speaks. I therefore admonish you
       all, hear his words, remember who he is and what he represents.
       Weigh everything you know about him with all he says and decide
       within yourselves the answer to the question; do we allow the
       Klingon people admittance into the Federation?  Yes or no?"

            A bright blue light on the podium flashed, indicating that
       the Emperor was preparing to transport. "This is perhaps the most
       important vote that will ever be held in this Assembly.  I do not
       have any advice to offer as to the direction that your vote should
       go, I merely ask you this; We desire peace for all worlds, with
       all worlds, but what price are we willing to pay for it?  We hold
       friendship with all civilized races in the highest esteem, but are
       there races that, by their own actions, demonstrate that they are

                                       PAGE 124








       not yet worthy of our trust?" He looked out over the silent crowd.
       They respected the man who spoke these historic words. The
       President was certain that they would do what was not merely in
       their various world's best interest, but equitable to all.

            The President pressed the yellow button next to the flashing
       blue button on his podium's console. "It is now my honor to
       introduce and also greet for the first time in history, the Emperor
       of the Klingon Empire." Behind him and to the left, a transporter
       wave began to shimmer and hum. It took the form of the man who all
       believed was the Klingon Emperor. With him were Admiral Sorr and
       his Imperial Guard.  "I present to the Supreme Assembly
       Delegates, His Highness, Emperor Mocdar Jek Tromok, of The
       Klingon Empire."

            The President turned to the Emperor and bowed low, with his
       hand extended towards the dais, indicating to His Highness that he
       may now address the Assembly. After the President erected himself
       he indicated that the Assembly may now stand and salute their guest
       in the fashion of their own home worlds. This caused much clamor as
       the delegates rose to salute, or bow, or spit, or honk, or wheeze
       or whatever salutation was called for from their planet.

            The President saw the Emperor smile upon the crowd indicating
       friendliness, or was it one of mockery?  He was uncertain, never
       having met this Monarch before. His intellect told him Tromok was
       being cordial. His gut feeling, however, was to brace himself for
       attack. In the end he wrote it off as a hormonal reaction to another
       rival male, one which had physical, intellectual and legislative
       power that was at least equal to himself.

            The Emperor offered a Klingon salute to the Assembly, then
       turned towards the President and saluted him as well. He stepped
       over to the podium, flanked on both sides by the Ramjep Avwi and
       trailed by Sorr. The eyes were Tromok's, but it was Garth who
       looked at the vast number of beings facing him. The tribute they
       paid the Emperor was nothing to Garth, nothing but a taste of what
       he would soon receive when it was Lord Garth they saluted. He took
       the last step to the dais and rested his large hands on each side,
       gripping it, and feeling the firmness of it.

            "Fellow beings of the known Galaxy," The Emperor's
       powerful voice echoed throughout the room, "I come to you, not in
       mere friendship, but as one of you who now understands the true
       meaning of what you stand for.  I speak as one who sees the wisdom
       and honor of this galactic brotherhood you collectively have forged
       and now share." He suppressed the smile of the wolf, and expressed
       the false face of an earnest man.

            "We, as a people, are guilty of many things. Things that may
       not be easy to forgive.  But it is in the spirit of forgiveness
       that I address you today. And it is forgiveness that I am compelled
       to request from you and extend to you in return." Garth allowed the
       Emperor to eat his crow before all to see. It was the most
       difficult obstacle he had foreseen himself facing, but he consoled
       himself with the knowledge that all actors must sometime play the

                                       PAGE 125








       fool. It did not alter who he was; it did not lessen him.

            "We have been holding fast to traditions that have spanned
       several millennia.  Traditions that had purposes of self-
       preservation, self-reliance and, unfortunately, self-righteousness.
       But this is all we knew. This was all we were given by our
       progenitors. Pride unparalleled in ourselves, and a dim view at
       best, towards all others," he said, making allowances for the
       Klingons that he both ruled and hated.

            "Peace was nothing but an outdated religion to us and for good
       reason; we had no living example of peace, apart from merciless
       domination to obtain it.  Peace at the point of a sword, not by
       reciprocal accordance." He looked up at the ceiling, and closed his
       eyes, pretending that the admission of his guilt had personally
       effected him.

            He opened his eyes once more and again regarded the audience.
       "We have seen the example of peace in your Federation for some time
       now. We had thought that we could eventually dominate you," he
       stated with fraudulent regret at the notion, "or that through this
       'peace', you would become weak and that the Federation would
       crumble out from beneath you. My father had said as much.  I myself
       have been known to speak the saying... But not so!"

            He spoke more boldly now, and with not just a hint of
       conviction expressed for his listener's benefit. "It is a breach in
       custom that I and my people should come to you this glorious day.
       But if a custom is all that hinders peace, it is a custom far too
       long observed! My fellow beings, I am not my father, who was a
       great and noble man, but a man who would not see farther than the
       bounds of tradition.  The relationship between our peoples must
       change, in the name of peace! And I have seen that it must start
       with us!  I do not petition you to join my Empire. I, as First
       Ruler of all Klinzhai, request to be joined with you. To establish
       a New Age of Peace, a New United Federation of Planets!"

            Most of the crowd was astounded at what they saw and heard.
       They had not thought it possible that the Klingon monarch could
       even speak these words, and certainly not with such conviction.
       Many were completely beguiled by his apparent sincerity, deeply
       moved by his personal realization of the shortcomings that his
       people's traditional view held.  Most were stirred by his vision of
       joining, of uniting the galaxy as one brotherhood under the flag of
       the Federation.  Sarek of Vulcan, was not one of them.

            Sarek was among a minority of men who could not be swayed by
       lofty words that spoke almost solely to the emotions of men.  On the
       other hand, he could not discount the Emperor's efforts towards
       peace either. He merely would not be swayed into voting for the
       admission of the Klingon Empire based upon one man's speech or by a
       crowd that most probably would. The President was of a similar
       mind.

            "I will not lie to you," The Emperor continued. "We had the
       inclination to declare war on you when we found that you had

                                       PAGE 126








       created a weapon of incredible destructive power. We had first
       thought that you were testing it on an outpost bordering the
       Federation Neutral Zone. But when the ship crossed over and we
       encountered it, it became apparent that this was a rogue ship with
       intentions of its own. We disposed of this ship, but not without
       casualties of our own." Garth was pridefully, masterfully
       maneuvering his audience into believing that the Federation should
       be indebted to the Empire, not only for destroying an enemy to both
       governments and paying for it in Klingon blood, but for giving the
       Federation the benefit of the doubt, assuming, that the Federation
       was innocent of the aggression, while allowing them to feel the
       guilt within themselves for their suspicion of the Empire.

            "I do not believe that I am able to demonstrate the sincerity
       of my words in any greater fashion than to offer to you the people
       of my Empire as members of the Federation.  It is my hope that
       you are in agreement to this, but if you are not... we shall keep
       to ourselves, and not continue to be a burden to you any further
       in galactic matters.  My Empire will expand!  But if it is not
       hand-in-hand with you, it will be away from you, and certainly
       either away from, or against the Romulan Empire!  I will await your
       decision from my ship.  I thank you!"

            A cheer arose from all corners of the auditorium, swelling to
       nearly deafening levels. The Emperor turned to a somewhat
       bewildered President, and extended his large hand in a gesture of
       friendship.

            The President took his hand in his and shook it, feeling the
       strength of it and hearing the cheers become even louder.  The
       President cocked his head, ever so slightly. He looked into the
       eyes of the Klingon and saw something disturbing.  He was not sure
       what he saw that moment, but it worried him.  Then his attention
       was drawn away from the Emperor to the Assembly delegates.  He was
       able to hear, deep within the cheering masses, many angry cries of
       dissension.  'Regardless of the direction that the decision made
       today takes, the vote may split the Federation,' he thought to
       himself as he watched the Emperor step over to his beam-down location
       and disappear with the rest of his entourage.

            "Gentle beings," the President said, trying to regain order in
       the great hall, "gentle beings!" He put both hands in the air in
       order to quell the commotion. He walked over to the podium, where
       he could be more easily seen and heard. "We must not let the
       emotion of the moment force us to rush headlong into a vote
       without careful consideration.  The Emperor's speech is now being
       sent to each delegate's terminal, for your further review.  In
       addition, all preliminary information and data which should be taken
       into account is included in the transmission. Please review this
       documentation carefully over the next two hours.  Deliberation will
       commence at 1300 hours.  The vote will be held at 1200 hours two
       days hence, after all members have taken advantage of their 10
       minute floor time.  Until then, I thank you."

            The President's confidence in the delegates was greatly shaken
       by their uproarious outburst of a moment ago.  Sensibility seemed

                                       PAGE 127








       to be driven from them by the Emperor's speech, coupled with the
       tremendous fear of invasion from the Romulan Empire, fear that
       could cause much of the Federation members to gladly make a bargain
       with the Devil, completely disregarding the price of such a
       bargain. The President also detected the evidence of a 'willing
       blindness' to rationale as the Emperor offered them a hope, and an
       answer, to their fears of war.  The confusion of the past few days
       was maddening.  It was as if a dark tide was moving the Federation
       purposefully towards the center of a whirlpool, to be drawn down
       into an abyss.















































                                       PAGE 128






















                          Star Trek: "BEFORE DESTRUCTION!"


                             A NOVEL BY MICHAEL D. ROSSI
















               *Star Trek is a Registered Trademark of Paramount Pictures
                            Copyright 1991, by Michael Rossi



                             ***    NINETEEN    ***



            Stardate 5859.4

            Captain James T. Kirk stood on the glowing transporter
       platform in the bowels of the still-cloaked Klingonese vessel. He
       pulled the flat, palm-sized 'Phaser 1' from the top of his 'Phaser
       2' pistol grip, and slid it inside his tri-corder's pouch.  He then
       placed the medi-scanner in his pocket, feeling the flat square
       already inside it that was Spock's still-unread log entry
       concerning Flint.  He looked at Mara who was standing behind the
       transporter controls, then tossed the pistol grip to the deck.

            "Are we ready to energize?" Jim asked her.

            "Not yet, but we will be in range soon," she said to her
       commanding officer. She was still not used to following the orders
       of this human, but she now had great admiration for the man.  "Your
       chances of making it down alive are still not favorable," she
       added firmly.

            Fear was there. Jim could feel it creeping up inside of him,
       the old enemy always lurking in the shadows wherever he faced danger.
       He was familiar with its bite, though he had never grown accustomed
       to it. He had never attempted to deny its existence, but it was not
       his master.  It would not stop him.

            "My chances never seem to be, Lieutenant," he said as a matter
       of fact, remembering the many times that his First Officer had
       stated the same thing to him.  He wished that it was Spock who was
       saying it to him now. He felt alone in the universe, a loneliness
       much like Mara's husband had experienced quite recently.  He wiped
       the nervous sweat of his palms on his trousers.

            "If I don't make it, Kang will have to attempt it, so please,
       do your best," said the gold and black clad Captain.

            "You shall have my best because that is what 'you' deserve.
       Not because I wish to spare my husband the same fate," she stated
       hotly. "I am honor-bound to you, both as my Captain and as the one
       to whom my husband and I owe our lives."

            Jim realized that he had offended her, but did not wish to
       offend her further by apologizing. "That is all I needed to know,
       Mara.  We still have many things to learn about our respective
       cultures. If we survive this, we may be able to show our
       governments that we are capable of cooperation and establish a
       'real' peace between us."

            The moment those words escaped his lips, the words of
       Ayelborne returned to him. They spoke: 'You, as all people, have
       heard the message of peace...'

            'Peace,' Jim echoed to himself. 'Perhaps there would be no

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       real peace, until we, as Christ had said, 'love our neighbors,' not
       merely co-exist with them.  Base our relationship on 'truth', not
       just a document of tolerance, not merely by the observance of
       self-serving laws.

            He turned these thoughts over in his mind. They spoke to him
       now as never before, and it was true.  He had heard the message
       before but gave it no more thought than just a collection of 'good
       ideas'.  He had never truly believed, never truly placed his faith
       in them, nor in the One who spoke them.

            In times past, he had used the name of God in many ways, but
       he now recalled that it had not been since his childhood that it
       meant anything personal to him.  The faith of a child, it was,
       trusting in the God that loved him enough to die for him.  Now, as
       an adult, he had heard the philosophies of men and relied greatly
       on his own intellect to fill any place in his heart that once was
       held for the God of his youth, yet still there were times when
       he found himself asking the same question;  'God, are you really
       there?' the question all men, all beings ask.  It is only now that
       Jim remembered the very name Jehovah, meant 'I am'.

            The saying, 'There are no Atheists in foxholes', was an old
       Earth expression that now came into Jim's thoughts.  It is human
       nature, perhaps xeno nature, to turn one's thoughts to his deity
       in times of trouble.  It is possible that there was nothing more to
       this 'searching of the heart' that Jim was now undergoing, than the
       normal searching one does in post-crisis situations. It is possible,
       but Jim was not certain that he could write it off that easily.

            James T. Kirk opened his eyes with the surprise of not having
       known they were closed.  He looked upon the Klingon woman, that
       stood steadfastly behind the transporter controls.  This co-
       operation between him and the Klingons may not be the end-all
       answer, but it was surely a start, a beginning at least for the
       future that could be, one day.

            "Are you all right, Captain?" Mara asked as she noticed that he
       had held his eyes closed for a time.

            Jim Kirk stood up straight and reigned in all stray thoughts.
       "I am fine Lieutenant," he said with confidence.

            "This is Kang." his voice erupted over the speaker. "We are
       slowing to warp 1.1 and will be in transporter range in 10 seconds,
       Mark!"

            "You have your communicator?" Mara asked.

            "Right here."  He placed his hand on its location, behind his
       back. "Thanks, Lieutenant. You have treated me with honor.  Keep
       monitoring the media broadcasts. I'm sure whatever happens below
       will be big news."

            "It is time. May the One True God protect you, Captain."
       She offered him the earnest salutation of old tradition. She moved

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       her hand skillfully upon the transporter controls and initiated
       engagement of the beam-down.

            Jim looked at her for a moment, wondering if she had read his
       previous thoughts, then dismissed the notion.  "Thanks, I believe
       I'll need..." his voice trailed off, as he shimmered and
       disappeared.



                                  *         *         *



            Captain James T. Kirk began to take shape in the mall that was
       located behind the Supreme Assembly Hall building.  Sparks popped
       within the transporter field, then a distorted flickering image of
       the Captain could be seen. The beam-down was failing and there was
       nothing Kirk could do but silently, helplessly, endure the waves of
       agony this was causing him.  Charged particles were passing down
       the transporter beam, forced into it by the Fury's warp field as it
       passed within 60 kilometers of the Earth's surface.  The grass
       under Kirk's immaterial feet was beginning to smoke and burn.

            On board the Fury, Mara was struggling with the controls. She
       had been able to detect the problem and begin a reversal of the
       transport... but it was too late. The wave had passed the point of
       retrieval.  She now had no choice but to increase power to the
       beam.

            "Kang!" she called to her husband. "Kang, you must circle
       back, and remain in a loop pattern until I can complete the
       transport. Captain Kirk is dying!"

            Moments passed in silence as she tried to channel more energy
       into the system. Then she heard a voice speak from the metal box.
       "It is being done," Kang said.

            She felt the ship's gravity increase as the vessel looped in
       the tightest possible circle.  'I need more power to break through
       the cloaking device's distortion field,' she thought to herself.

            Then she had it. She set the control lock to its engaged
       position and stepped from the console. Quickly, she ran over to an
       engineering terminal across the room and tied into the ship's
       environmental system. Ordering the ship to shut down artificial
       gravity, she dashed back over to the console, unlocked it and found
       the precious extra energy she needed. Centrifugal force now held
       the crew to the deck.

            Mara pushed the matter gain levers to maximum and cleared all
       buffers, forcing the Captain out of the system.

            Back on Earth, in the Mall of the Supreme Assembly Hall, a man
       lay sprawled on a small patch of blackened lawn. He lay there on
       the smoldering grass, motionless for a moment, then his chest

                                       PAGE 131








       heaved upwards, and Captain Kirk gulped a breath of fresh air. He
       awoke, smelling the scorched earth beneath him and something that
       reminded him of burning rubber.  He closed his eyes against the
       brightness of the sun and lay still for a moment.  Fresh in his
       memory was the pain that seemed unending, an agony the likes of
       which he had never experienced before.  Nor could he describe it to
       another if he were asked.  He lay there and realized suddenly that
       the pain had ended, and remembered the reason he had come.

            He opened his eyes again, and immediately a movement caught
       his attention. Standing to his left was a small boy wearing anti-
       grav skates and holding a small order of Pigeon McGiblets.  The boy
       looked more curious than scared, but he had obviously seen the
       Captain beam down and was both surprised and a little shaken by it.

            "Hello," Jim spoke to the child, squinting for the sun.

            "You OK, mister?" the boy responded.

            "Fine... just resting," Jim said.

            "Your shoes are on fire," the boy commented.

            Kirk was on his feet in a moment. His body had no memory of
       the torment that was thrust upon it only seconds ago, and he seemed
       to have more freedom of movement, more limberness to his joints.
       'I don't think I'll mention this to Bones,' he thought to himself
       as he stamped out his feet.  'He'll have me doing this as physical
       therapy.'

            Jim looked at the boy who could not be more than 8 years old.
       "Thanks, kid."

            "You're a Fleet Cap'in, aren't ya?"

            "Yes, and I am on a secret mission. So I gotta go." Jim smiled
       at the youth and turned towards the building behind him.

            "You goin in there?" the boy asked, pointing to the Federation
       Council Hall.

            "Yes, I am. goodbye now," Jim said and began to move towards
       the nearest entrance to the building.

            "My mom's in there already," the boy offered the Captain. He
       hovered behind the Captain, keeping up with him.

            "Uh huh," Jim said, acknowledging the boy's comment.  "I'll
       see you later."

            "Can I come?" the boy asked. "I could help you."

            Jim could see that he was having no luck in shaking the boy
       loose from himself. "I'm sure you could, but I've got to go inside
       there and stop a very bad man from hurting lots of people."


                                       PAGE 132








            The boy looked at the Captain with incredulous eyes. "My mom
       says that there aren't no bad men.  Just people who have different
       valiums than we do."

            "That's values," Jim said and stopped walking. He gazed down
       upon the small innocent face that floated below him. "We all can be
       bad at times, kid.  It's a choice we to make once we realize that
       there is 'Right' and 'Wrong', to choose from."

            "The police keep people from being bad, don't they?"

            "The police protect us and help punish the people who do not
       obey the laws.  Obeying laws does not make us good.  Laws don't even
       tell us what 'good'is, but they do show us what is 'bad'."

            "If I'm bad, are you gonna come after me, too?"

            "I don't know, son." Jim kneeled down to the boy's eye level.
       He was in a hurry, but the boy seemed important to him somehow.
       "But when we see badness, it is good to try to stop it. If we don't,
       we are helping the badness get worse and saying it's OK to be bad."

            "Then I got to help you," the boy said with conviction.

            Jim saw that he had backed himself in a corner again, and
       lacked the time to talk his way out of it. "Ok, son, you can do
       something that will help."

            Jim took the tri-corder from around his neck. Bones had
       intended that it be used to help track Garth, should he change into
       a different form.  Jim knew that if he could not stop Garth with
       the first try, the second try could only be attempted with a
       Starship. Garth would not allow anyone to get close enough to make
       a second attempt.  Jim removed his phaser from the pouch, slid it
       behind his back and handed the unit to the boy.

            "This has very important information that needs to go to the
       Vulcan Ambassador 'Sarek'.  If I can't stop the bad man, he might
       be able to, with this. If you can't find him or get this to him,
       tell your mom that it must get to him or the Assembly President."

            He watched as the child's face lit up with the joy and
       enthusiasm of being trusted with such an important task.

            "Do you think you can do it?" Jim asked.

            "Wow!" the boy whispered, turning the tri-corder over in his
       hands. He then looked up at the Captain and nodded.

            "Off you go then," Jim said and mussed the child's hair with a
       gentle hand.  The boy skated off towards the 'Visiting Dignitary's'
       housing compound and was gone from sight in a flash.

            Captain Kirk looked again at his surroundings. He had been
       here many times before, for many different reasons, but never like
       this.  He felt like an assassin; a traitor to the Federation. If

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       he were to be caught, that is exactly what history would remember
       him as.  Captain James T.  Kirk, his name up in lights right next
       to Benedict Arnold and Colonel Green.

            Jim stopped himself from dwelling on the notion, and steeled
       himself against any further thoughts of failure.  He moved around
       the huge building, seeing the mob of people that surrounded the
       North entrance of the complex:  Galactic Press Reporters, hoping
       for any bit of information that might help them out-scoop their
       peers;  Protesters and demonstrators from every conceivable
       viewpoint, some with signs, others singing and shouting their
       messages;  Onlookers, simply wanting a peek at the political
       celebrities, thronging the steps to the building.

            Security teams guarded the entrance and held the mob
       harmlessly back with a static security web; an energy barricade
       similar to a Starship's deflector screen.  There were three
       corridors open for authorized pedestrian traffic to and from the
       building, once they were cleared by security.

            Behind the security guards, mounted high on the marble pillars
       of the building, were the first of the weapons detectors.  Jim drew
       his weapon and cupped his palm over it to conceal it from the crowd
       he was nearing. With his thumb, he adjusted the phaser's focus for
       the approximate distance.

            Jim looked around for a moment, searching for something.  Then
       he found what he needed.  Across the lawn were several public
       vending machines lined up in rows against the fusion-formed walkway
       wall. Jim aimed his weapon at the candy machine nearest the throng,
       and fired, causing it to harmlessly ignite and smoke profusely.  It
       served as an ample distraction, as all were wanting to see either
       what was burning or what everyone else was looking at.

            Jim closed the distance from himself and the front entrance
       corridor to approximately 50 meters. He stealthily aimed his weapon
       at the right pillar and fired.  He saw that his aim was too high by
       a meter, as a spot on the marble column began to glow red.  Jim
       slowly dragged the beam downward until it made contact with the
       weapons detector.  He hit it square in its sensor array, fusing
       the elements together silently, then pulled the beam over to the
       left pillar and connected with the other unit.

            'One scanning station down,' Jim thought to himself, 'Now to
       get past these guards and into the building.'



                                  *         *         *



            The Supreme Assembly Hall was brimming to the rafters.  Only
       select persons of the News media were allowed to attend the final
       session and multicast the event to all Worlds.  They panned their
       multi-cams across the crowded tense room as the delegates argued

                                       PAGE 134








       fervently while seating themselves and awaiting the President to
       announce the results of the decision made there this day.

            The President of the Assembly prepared to take the stage, as
       his aide gave him the sealed document that only he was authorized
       to open.  He ascended the raised platform and took his place behind
       the podium.  On top of the dais was the membership charter that
       was ready for the Emperor's signature in the event that the
       decision was in his favor.  The President would be expected to
       contact the Klingonese Emperor in a moment, to allow him to be
       present for the vote of admission.  The Emperor had stated his
       desire to hear the verdict with the rest of the Assembly.

            The President could feel the division among the beings he now
       faced.  Throughout the deliberations of the past two days, tensions
       between the delegates had escalated exponentially, the "For's"
       versus the "Against's", both sides passionately opposed to the other.
       That in itself was nothing new, but it had never been so on an
       issue of this magnitude.  Then again, in past deliberations, there
       had literally been more time to debate the issues and sift out the
       truth, or the proper course of action, time to determine the best
       course of action.  Now the President could only see a stampede of
       cattle, rushing into oblivion and trampling each other in the drive.

            As a boy, raised on a ranch, he had seen lightning start his
       father's herd to running.  And as he looked into the Emperor's eyes
       earlier, he was now certain that there was lightning in them.  He
       had never been so afraid for the Federation.

            It was now, as ever, his responsibility to hold the delegates
       of the United Federation of Planets together no matter which side
       the vote would favor.  With the eyes of all upon him, the President
       addressed the Assembly.

            "Gentle beings," the President spoke to the anxious masses.
       "Today we have reached a determination on a highly complex issue.
       It was a difficult decision to make for all parties concerned and
       we may find that it will not be easy for all present to accept.
       But this vote should bring us closer as a coalition, regardless of
       the outcome."

            "We represent many races, many worlds.  We are an example to
       the rest of the galaxy, demonstrating the ability to set aside
       personal differences and pull together for the betterment of the
       whole.  We have heard evidence of this, even from the mouth of the
       one whom we had known as our enemy."

            He looked to his friends, his guests, his allies.  The
       division ran deep.  The only thing that could preserve this United
       Federation of Planets was to remind them of what it was they stood
       for. 'It is easy to forget, when the test is upon us,' the
       President acknowledged to himself.

            "A new idea can be difficult to accept... It is hard to extend
       your trust to a stranger and even harder to turn away a friend in
       need.  But we, as a body, must make decisions, good or ill, and

                                       PAGE 135








       live with them.  We do so with this ideal in mind: That we are not
       merely interplanetary members of an organization, but we are
       members, one of another.  I am from Earth, but I am no less one of
       you, if you accept me.  It is a marriage, both of necessity and
       convenience, for it is necessary to bear each other up in times of
       trouble, and convenient to rejoice together in times of happiness.
       Fellow beings... Let us continue in what our fathers started long
       ago...  Let us test and prove that the United Federation of Planets
       was not created in vain!"

            The President's oration moved the audience, and cut to the
       heart of the delegates.  They saw the issue in a slightly different,
       slightly broader perspective now, and though there would always be
       disagreements among them, it would take more than the events of this
       day to destroy the unity they shared.

            Sarek of Vulcan was the first to stand out of respect towards
       the President. One by one the others stood with him and affirmed
       the solidarity of the congregation.



                                   *         *         *



            Jim made his way towards the men in 'security red' guarding the
       front entrance to the Assembly complex.  All told, there were
       fifteen security men in the front of the building, five at each
       corridor entrance, and this was only the first station.  There
       were several other posts inside the building at evenly spaced
       intervals.  Since his retina pattern was on file here, his status
       as a Starship Captain should guarantee his admission to the main
       auditorium.  Then, it was just a matter of toasting the other sets
       of detection units that were scattered throughout the complex.

            He mounted the steps, only 10 meters from the men, when he saw
       the thing that he was hoping against.  Each guard carried a hand-
       held scanner that would certainly alert them of his weapon.  'No
       turning back now,' Jim thought as he approached the men.  He
       thumbed the adjustments on his phaser as quickly as possible, then
       raised his arm with his weapon extended.

            "Here you go, boys," Jim said as he handed the first man his
       phaser.  "Guess I can't bring her with me, can I?"

            "No, Sir." the young man said. "Thank you, Captain."

            "Have you heard if the Assembly has come to a decision yet?"
       the Captain inquired as he allowed another guard to scan his right
       eye for identification.  A third pointed his scanner at Jim and
       played it up and down to be sure there were no other weapons on his
       person.

            "They are announcing the results of the vote this minute," the
       second guard replied.  "I think you've missed most of the

                                       PAGE 136








       excitement... Captain Kirk," he said, reading Jim's name on the
       identification readout.

            The first guard handed Jim a receipt for his weapon.  "Thank
       you; you're clear."

            "Thank you," Jim said while eyeing the sidearms on the men.
       He then turned toward the entrance of the building and considered
       his options.  Silently he trod up the sloping walk between the two
       marble columns and into the building.

            The lobby was enormous, lavish, and reflected a myriad of
       cultures, Jim noted, as he saw the artwork that adorned the walls.
       Beings from all corners of the Federation hurriedly filed in and
       out of the restrooms, concessions stands, meeting rooms and hall-
       ways.  Most seemed to be aliens to this world, taking care of the
       governmental business, which would not wait until their return to
       their respective homes.

            Jim spotted the hallway that would lead him, ultimately, to
       the Supreme Assembly Hall.  He headed down it.  Before he had made
       much headway, he came to the first of the internal security check-
       points.  They allowed him to pass through as soon as the scanner
       had correctly identified him, and determined that he was no threat
       to security.

            'This way, at least, I won't have to keep destroying
       Federation equipment,' he thought to himself.

            Jim hurried his pace, passing others, many of whom were pages
       or aides to their esteemed leaders.  There were no windows in the
       halls; all the lighting was artificial.  They were tunnel-like
       passageways, color coded in florescent pastels, the shade dependent
       upon which wing or auditorium you were heading for.  Jim passed
       through four shades of blue hallway, and four different check-
       points before he reached the final one, and after that, the last
       (and lightest blue) corridor leading to the Supreme Assembly Hall.

            The Security team looked no less lax, this deep into the
       complex, than the first team did.  The five men at this post were
       keeping a wary eye on all comers, regardless of rank or position.

            Jim approached the team and allowed them to do their duty.
       They approved his access to the Hall and let him pass.  As he went
       by the last man, he smiled politely and nodded at him.  While the
       man returned the smile, Jim swiftly gave a Karate chop to the
       muscular cords on the man's neck, bringing him down in an instant.
       As the others turned to see what had happened, Jim had the
       immobilized guard's weapon leveled at the four of them.  He fired
       without a moment's hesitation.  The security men fell as if they
       had been marionettes with their strings cut, and astonished cries
       from the other beings in the hall erupted.  He was glad to see
       them run for help in the opposite direction that he was going.

            Jim ran full-tilt to the last corridor, knowing that there
       would be no shortage of armed guards on his tail any second.  As he

                                       PAGE 137








       rounded the corner, he saw in the distance another security detail
       standing outside the doors to the Hall.  He stopped himself short
       of crashing into a slender young woman with her arms full of
       documents.  In fact, there were several people walking the long
       corridor between the guards and himself.  They saw him with his
       weapon and turned, shouting for the security team, while the young
       woman slowly backed away, frightened.

            Jim knelt and aimed his phaser down the hall.  A blue stun
       blast raced down the hall after the frightened people.  They
       dropped in their tracks, but the guards were shielded by the people
       and too far from the blast to be affected.  He could hear the
       footfalls of many other guards coming from the corridor behind him.
       He was on his feet again and ran down the hall firing ahead of him
       at the security men now crouched by the doors.  They returned fire.
       Tight and deadly beams of crimson and blue screamed past the
       Captain, but now the stun effect had better range as Kirk managed
       to get close enough to them that they became dazed, and then one
       final blast took them out.

            The security team trailing Jim rounded the corner far behind
       him.  They reacted like a crack outfit, prepared for terrorists,
       assassins or worse.  There were twenty men in all.  Five of the men
       lay on the floor, aiming their phasers down the long corridor.
       Five knelt behind them, five stood, while five more, slowly
       advanced towards Jim who was only ten meters from the Supreme
       Assembly Hall's doors.  Jim turned.  Seeing them, he stopped.

            The guards were distant, but it did not matter.  Jim was sure
       that if he turned his back for a split second, he would be shot.
       He was equally certain that if he just stood there at a standoff,
       he would be shot still.  He did the only thing he could think of.

            Captain Kirk slowly raised his weapon above his head with both
       hands.  The guards halted their advance for a moment, cautious of
       his every move. There was still at least 40 meters distance between
       them, only a little breathing room for the Captain.

            "Drop it!" the Lieutenant in charge shouted, and began to
       advance, ever so slowly.

            With his arms still raised, Jim gave the front end of his
       weapon a sharp clock-wise twist. The phaser gave a distinct whine
       that immediately began to increase in pitch and volume.  The
       security team heard it, and understood its meaning.

            "It's on overload!" the Lieutenant shouted, and in a split
       second calculated that at his best running speed, he could reach
       the Captain just as the phaser exploded.  "Fall back!" he ordered
       his men, while turning himself around and retreating with all of
       his might.

            Kirk held his weapon up until he was sure that they were no
       longer a threat to him.  He quickly twisted the end of his phaser
       counterclockwise, cancelling the power build-up.  He pointed it
       down at the ground before him and discharged the excess energy,

                                       PAGE 138








       burning a large crater in the floor.

            James T. Kirk turned back towards the Assembly Hall, and
       looked at the closed doors that separated him from the most
       dangerous man in the Galaxy.  He took a long deep breath and held
       it for a moment.  Slowly he exhaled it and nodded to himself in
       silent affirmation.  'This is it,' he thought.

            "Once more unto the breach!" Kirk quoted aloud, just because
       he had always wanted to.  He rushed at the doors to the great hall,
       bursting through them like a battering ram, and into the mammoth
       auditorium.



                               *         *         *



            "I now ask you again," The President addressed the Assembly,
       "to welcome Emperor Tromok of the Klingon Realm, as we discover
       together the result of today's vote."  The president pressed the
       appropriate button on his dais and turned towards the beam-down
       point.  Several moments later the Klingonese monarch and his
       entourage took shape on the stage.  Admiral Sorr stayed beside
       the Emperor as they approached the President of the Assembly.

            "Again, I welcome you, Emperor Tromok," the President spoke and
       offered his hand to the Klingon.

            "Again, I am honored," he said in formal response.

            The president turned toward the gathering of beings and broke
       the seal on the document in his hand.  He looked at it and began to
       read its contents for all to hear.

            "On the planet Earth, stardate 5859.5, in the seventy-third
       gathering of the Supreme Assembly of the United Federation of
       Planets, the question of the admission of the Klingon Empire to the
       Federation was decided.  The decision was 'for' admission."  The
       President stopped for a moment, knowing what would happen next.

            As if on cue, sizable vociferation of joy arose from a great
       many members of the Assembly who were hoping for this announcement.
       The others remained silent, accepting the outcome, if not agreeing
       with the decision.  The noise died down and the President continued
       his address.

            "In the act of acceptance of this new member as part of our
       alliance, we will now engage in the formality of signing the
       document of admission." The President turned to the Emperor.
       "Emperor Mocdar Jek Tromok of the Klingon Realm, you have read the
       charter of the Federation during your journey to this world?"

            "I have," he stated


                                       PAGE 139








            "Do you accept the responsibility for all contents therein and
       agree to uphold all directives pertaining to interplanetary peace
       and security?"

            "I do," he spoke deeply.

            "Then we all bear witness this day, that as Chief Spokesman
       for the Klingonese people, Emperor Mocdar Jek Tromok and all in his
       authority, are now full members of the United Federation of
       Planets, and recipients of all the benefits and privileges of that
       status." The President stepped back from his podium, and allowed
       the Emperor to stand behind it to place his signature on the
       document of admittance.

            The Emperor looked down at the Charter of the Federation,
       then he paused, lifting his head from the document and turning it
       towards Admiral Sorr.  "Do you acknowledge me as Emperor of the
       Klingon Realm, Admiral?  Do you recognize my authority as Supreme?"
       He spoke low enough that only Sorr and the President could hear
       him.  Both Sorr and the President were taken aback by the question,
       but Sorr dared not hesitate in giving him an answer.

            "You are my Emperor.  You are all I obey," spoke Sorr almost
       silently, apprehensive of the man he stood with.

            The Emperor smiled at Sorr through narrow eyes.  It made the
       Admiral all the more fearful.  Sorr, a Klingon who had faced
       dangers unflinchingly, now frightened by a glance, a mere facial
       expression.  Sorr felt ashamed of himself, but nonetheless he was
       scared.

            It was Garth who smiled at Sorr.  It was Garth who only now,
       received the full authority of the Klingon Empire from the highest
       ranking representative.  He could now sign the document with the
       confidence of his signature's legitimacy.

            The Emperor of all the realm known as Klingon placed his
       signet ring on the base of the document and impressed the royal
       emblem on it.  He then looked out upon the congregation and raised
       both his arms above the audience in a gesture of victory.  They did
       not know the extent of his victory.

            "I must now take my leave of you," he spoke to the throng.  "I
       will take this good news to my people.  We will prepare for the new
       beginning that we will forge, together... Rest assured," he lowered
       his voice and discontinued his smile, "you will see my face again."

            There in that brief moment of silence, before a single being
       could respond to the Emperor's statement, before a single hand
       could strike another in applause, the doors to the immediate rear
       of the auditorium burst open with a thunder.  And like the
       irrepressible backwash of a tide, all heads turned toward the sound.



                                 *         *         *

                                       PAGE 140








            Captain James T. Kirk bolted through the main entryway in a
       blur of black and gold, and came to a halt atop the central, down-
       sloping isle.  It took only a second for his eyes to adjust to the
       lighting and to single out his target on the distant stage.  He was
       too far away.  'But not for long,' Jim silently promised the man
       on the stage.

            "Everybody DOWN!" Jim shouted, and an alarm sounded throughout
       the complex at that very moment.

            Many things happened at once, from that point on. Jim could
       see the Emperor's elite guards drawing weapons that only they and
       Starfleet security were allowed to bear.  With his peripheral
       vision, he could see security running towards him from their posts
       at the emergency exits. The crowd whom he had just ordered to get
       down looked at him, dumb and unmoving, like a herd of deer caught
       in the illuminators of a land transport vehicle, but most important
       to him was the locked gaze that he shared with the man who wore the
       Emperor's face.

            All doubt that Jim might have had concerning the identity of
       the Emperor was stripped away when Jim saw the recognition, no, the
       visible shock, on the Emperor's face.  He would never know how
       disturbing his presence was to Garth on that day, for in Garth's
       arrogance and pride, he had planned for every conceivable problem.
       He did not believe in the inconceivable... until he saw Kirk.  Garth
       came close to losing control of his physical appearance, and he
       could feel his tenuous grip on it slipping away, moment by moment.
       With all his strength Garth silently battled for mastery of his flesh.

            The man, Kirk, moved with great speed down the aisle,
       abbreviating the distance between himself and the stage, then the
       floor exploded before him, as the Ramjep Avwi fired in defense of
       their Majesty.  Jim dived over the blast, tucked and rolled, coming
       to a halt on one knee and aiming his weapon at the still too-
       distant enemy.  Then all hell broke loose...

            The blast had shaken the frozen delegates from their shock,
       and beings were running, flying, and oozing in all directions.
       Screams and shouts made a deafening din.  Both security and the
       Klingon guard had momentarily lost their target in the masses, and
       Jim was now being moved backwards away from his target by the
       press of the crowd.

            The President waved his arms at the edge of the stage,
       fruitlessly shouting for the crowd to remain seated for their own
       safety.  Sarek and his aide climbed the stage in an effort to
       protect the President.  They each grabbed an arm and pulled him to
       the back of the stage.  It was the logical thing to do.

            Garth regained control over his body and lost control of his
       temper.  No single person could be heard in the chaos, but Jim
       could see the Emperor shouting his name in fury and moving across
       the stage towards him.  Garth, too, brandished a weapon now.

            Jim struggled to make headway in the stampede, and made some

                                       PAGE 141








       progress until two beings directly in front of him exploded in a
       blaze of light.  The Imperial guard would not let a little thing
       like killing innocents stop them from hitting their mark.  If Kirk
       had a choice in dealing with this situation, it had just been
       ripped from his grasp.  Jim held his phaser in front of himself
       and fired his weapon, point blank into the press.

            The group of delegates directly in front of him lit up in the
       blue stunning energy field, falling upon eachother.  More came,
       stepping over and on their fallen peers. Jim fired again, mowing
       down a swath in the direction of the stage.  He fired again and
       again, exposing himself to the fire of the Klingons, but gaining
       ground towards his target.

            Kirk was nearly in range when a reporter from the 'Galactic
       Press Association.' with multi-cam in hand, interposed himself between
       Jim and his goal.  Jim punched him dead in the face and continued.

            Garth was now descending the steps of the platform, still
       shouting Kirk's name and coming for him like a powerful, deadly
       predator stalking his foe.  He pointed his disrupter in Jim's
       general direction and pulled a barbed knife from his arm sheath.

            Jim was in range now.  He straightened his arm towards the
       image of the Klingon Emperor. Looking upon his enemy's face through
       the sights on his phaser, he saw Garth swiftly react.  The Emperor
       grabbed the nearest being, a Tellarite, by the back of the neck,
       pulling it to himself and blocking any clear shot Jim might have.
       It made no difference to Kirk.  The stun effect would take them
       both down harmlessly.  Then Garth pointed his disrupter at Jim.
       Smiling in smug defiance, he began to strangle his prisoner.

            "Not today, Garth," Jim shouted and began to depress his
       weapon's trigger.  Suddenly the weight of four men pushed him to
       the floor with a crash, sending his phaser flying from his hand.

            The Starfleet security team had been able to reach Kirk by the
       same path that he made in the crowd to reach Garth.  They pinned
       Jim to the carpet, as he struggled against them.

            The Emperor dropped his unconscious prisoner to the ground and
       slowly walked over to where the men held the Captain.  He beamed in
       victory.  He gloated with murder still in his eyes.  Jim looked up
       to meet his gaze and he grit his teeth against the sight of his foe.

            "I win, my heir apparent," the Emperor spoke, but this time he
       spoke with the voice of Garth of Izar, for Jim's benefit alone.
       Lazily the Emperor pointed his weapon at the Captain, as if merely
       to put a poor injured animal out of his misery.  Before he could
       pull the trigger, his Ramjep Avwi grabbed him by the shoulders and
       pulled him backwards toward the beam-down location on the stage.
       Garth allowed them to do so, walking backwards for a moment, just
       smiling at the Captain as he moved away.

            "Garth!" Jim shouted in rage, in desperation, and in complete
       helplessness.  He fought to rise from his captors, heaving upwards

                                       PAGE 142








       with all his strength.  He received a fist to the jaw for his
       efforts... and then he knew no more.

            As darkness now engulfed the Captain, so a darkness of another
       kind began to engulf the galaxy.  And at it's center... a blackness
       that masqueraded as light.



                             *         *         *



                               End of Chapter #19

        To potential "Acting" Agents/Trek Fans:

        You have now read enough to make a decision as to the quality
        of my novel.  I now ask you for your assistance in representing
        both of our interests to the Star Trek Editor of Pocket Books.

        If you choose to boldly try what none have tried before... Please
        re-read the file called "README.TXT" and make sure you fully
        understand what I am requesting you to do.  Then print the file
        called "ST-AGENT.TXT".  Fill out both pages and send the first page
        to the "Star Trek Editor" of Pocket Books and the second page to
        myself.

        I hope to be hearing from you soon and I apologize that I am not
        able to let you know the ending of the story unless both Pocket
        Books and Paramount Pictures gives the go-ahead on publishing it.

        Thank you very much for reading this and considering representing
        me to Pocket.

        Your friend.  Mike.

        Hailing frequencies closed.

