Errand of Fury Book 1 Read online

  Automatically, Fox felt Fronde’s neck for a pulse, even as his eyes saw that the large open wound in his chest meant that his heart would not only be damaged, it would have been torn apart.

  “Call for help!” he said.

  “The Earther is beyond help,” Wolt said. It was true; if this injury had been sustained inside a state-of-

  the-art emergency medical suite, Fronde might have had a chance—though not a good one. Here, it was hopeless.

  Something began to well in Fox’s chest. To his surprise, it wasn’t grief, it was rage. Without thinking, he got up, took a step toward Kreg and pushed the Klingon back with both hands.

  “Why?” he shouted.

  “The fight was until one of the combatants was either dead or had surrendered,” Wolt said.

  “He was injured, and he was about to surrender,” Fox said, glaring at Wolt.

  “The Earther was too slow then,” Kreg said, a grin on his face. Never in his life had Fox wanted to strike another being so much.

  Though it took a substantial physical effort, Fox forced down the impulse and said, “Is this Klingon fairness—Klingon honor?” he said to Ambassador Wolt.

  “Fairness, like history, is decided by the victor. Today, Kreg is the victor,” Wolt replied.

  “I have given your aide a gift, an honorable death,” Kreg said.

  Then Wolt turned and headed for the door. He raised a hand and said, “Kill the rest of them.”

  As the Klingons reached for their weapons, Fox found himself leaping at the Klingon ambassador. With one hand he reached out and grabbed Wolt by the shoulder, spinning him around. Then Fox shoved the Klingon backward and drew his laser pistol, pointing it directly at the Klingon’s head from a distance of two feet.

  There was surprise on the Klingon’s face.

  “Make a move against any of us and he dies,” Fox called out.

  “You would not dare,” Kreg said from behind him.

  Fox pointed the pistol a few feet to the right and fired once. The beam slammed into the wall and sent up sparks, more than a few of which hit Wolt in the face. “Call them off,” he said.

  “Halt,” the ambassador said, looking deeply into Fox’s eyes. Then Wolt laughed roughly. “I think we may be able to do business, Earther.”

  “What?” Fox said, shaking his head.

  “I think it is time to begin our negotiations,” Wolt said. Fox didn’t bother trying to hide the confusion on his face. “You Earthers have surprised me today. You have shown that there are things for which you are willing to die—and to kill.”

  “To kill…” Fox repeated, looking at the laser pistol in his hand.

  “I saw it in your eyes, your desire to kill me. You have convinced me of your seriousness of purpose,” Wolt said.

  Slowly, Fox lowered his laser and turned to his people. They were frightened, grieved, and angry—like Fox himself. But there it was again, the belief in him. He saw that look in their eyes. Fronde had had the same look, until Fox had allowed him to be murdered.

  Yet that belief reminded him of why they were there. Fronde had died, but perhaps Fox could ensure that he had died for something. “Very well, we can begin tomorrow—”

  “No, we begin now or we can all go home,” Wolt said. “We Klingons have a saying: ‘Negotiations are best begun when the blood of the fallen is still warm.’ ”

  Fox looked at his people, the ones who looked back at him and the one who lay on the floor in his own blood. Then he made the most difficult decision of his career, of his entire life.

  “Take your seats,” he said. Walking back to the negotiating table, he waited for the others to find their places, then he sat.

  “I am authorized to come to terms in all of our outstanding areas of contention…” A feeling of unreality washed over Fox as Wolt spoke. Looking down at his bloodied hands, he barely heard the Klingon ambassador’s words. “…is that acceptable, Earther?”

  “Call me Earther one more time and you will die today,” Fox found himself saying. He remembered from the Starfleet reports that Earther was considered an insult.

  Wolt nodded and said, “Very well, Ambassador Fox.”

  Through sheer force of will, Fox made himself listen, pushing aside his grief and his anger. A good and brave young man had died today. But if Fox did his job, Fronde would be the last to die in this conflict.

  “I am willing to discuss trade, but don’t waste my time trying to renegotiate borders that have stood for one hundred years,” Fox said, putting steel into his voice.

  Chapter Two

  U.S.S. ENTERPRISE

  2267

  SECTION CHIEF LESLIE PARRISH waited until the end of her shift to visit sickbay. She had not been herself for days, but she didn’t want her people to know that. A security section chief was like a parent to his or her squad. And the people in the section needed that parent to be infallible.

  And Parrish knew that was exactly what she needed to be, because if she made mistakes, people died. “See you in the dining room, Lieutenant?” one of her squad asked.

  “I’ll be along later,” Parrish said. Then she did what she had been putting off for days: she headed for sickbay. She felt unsettled as she approached the doors. Unlike many security people, she didn’t have a particular aversion to sickbay. For some, she knew, the feeling bordered on superstition.

  For her, it was more personal and more specific. The last time she was here, the captain had told her that her squad mate Jon Anderson was dead. Of course, squad mate was both a completely accurate and a grossly inadequate term for what he had been to her, but so were all of the terms that came to mind. She felt a chill as the sickbay doors opened and she stepped inside. For a moment, she felt a desire to turn around and leave, but she stayed her course. If she was actually sick, she could endanger her squad, and that was unacceptable.

  The desire passed as Nurse Chapel approached her with a smile. “Lieutenant?”

  Parrish was glad to see that sickbay seemed to be empty except for the nurse, though she heard noise coming from the direction of the doctor’s office that told her there was at least one other person there.

  “I’ve been a little under the weather,” Parrish explained. At that moment, Dr. McCoy appeared and Parrish was relieved. The doctor had treated the injuries she had sustained battling the Klingons on Starbase 42, and she felt most comfortable with him.

  “How are you, Lieutenant?” McCoy asked with polite concern and a welcoming smile on his face.

  He is good at what he does, Parrish thought. Very good. She found herself returning the smile and relaxing by degrees. She also noticed that Nurse Chapel had disappeared as the doctor led her to an examination table.

  “My stomach’s been bothering me, and my energy has been down. I’m afraid that I may have picked up something,” she said as she climbed onto the examination table and lay down. Lying down while the doctor hovered over her made Parrish feel vulnerable, but the doctor quelled that feeling with another smile.

  Then he raised his scanner and said, “Well, let’s just see how accurate your diagnosis is, Lieutenant.” He studied the medical readout on the wall above her head as the hand scanner trilled in his hand. For a moment, his face showed only concentration, then there was a slight twitch of his eyebrow that Parrish immediately read as surprise.

  “Doctor?” she asked.

  The kindly concern was gone. Suddenly he was unreadable, his face a blank except for a slight squinting of one eye, then another twitch. Something was going on. Something unusual.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  He took a step back and gestured for her to sit up.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, keeping her own voice neutral, even as she felt her heart rate increase.

  “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head unconvincingly.

  “That’s not true,” she said, keeping her eyes on his.

  McCoy held her gaze, hesitated for only a moment, and said, “You’re pregnant, Lieute
nant.” His voice was flat, except for a tone of…she wasn’t sure what.

  “What?” was all she could say.

  “You’re pregnant, Lieutenant Parrish,” he said, his voice maddeningly calm as he delivered the single most surprising piece of news she had ever received.

  “That’s impossible. I took the standard Starfleet precautions,” she said.

  “Well, nothing is one hundred percent effective,” McCoy said. But there was something in his eyes when he said it. He wasn’t exactly lying, but there was something he wasn’t telling her. When he spoke next he was, for him, surprisingly hesitant. “You were seeing Jon Anderson before he died.”

  “The baby is his,” she said immediately, not even giving thought to the fact that she was under no obligation to reveal that information. She had nothing to hide, certainly not where Jon was concerned. Yet that information registered on the doctor’s face. The fact that Jon was the father was very significant to McCoy.

  “This is a lot to take in, Lieutenant,” the doctor said, again hesitant. “You might want some time to consider…”

  Parrish didn’t even hear the rest of McCoy’s sentence. She knew what pregnancy meant for someone in her position. If she had the baby, then her career as a Starfleet security officer on active duty was over. There were no children on starships, and Parrish doubted there ever would be. And serving on a starship had been her life’s dream. There were only a few thousand people in the whole Federation who had achieved that honor.

  So that was the choice, her career and her life’s ambition, or her and Jon’s child? “Doctor, I…” she began.

  “You don’t have to decide anything now,” McCoy said. As he talked, there was a seriousness in his expression that nagged at Parrish. There was something he was not telling her and it had something to do with the baby or maybe with Jon.

  “Leslie,” McCoy said, “I’d like to share this with the captain. I’m sure he would like to talk to you.”

  She nodded. “Of course.” It might be the only way she would find out what was really going on here.

  “Wait here for a moment.” Then he called out to the other room. “Nurse, would you see if there is anything that Lieutenant Parrish needs.”

  McCoy disappeared into his office as Nurse Chapel appeared. Parrish said she didn’t need anything, so Chapel just waited with her. Parrish felt blood rise to her face and her heart speed up. Then, a remarkably short time later, the doctor appeared again.

  “The captain would like to talk to us both in the briefing room immediately,” he said. Parrish nodded and jumped off the table. Then he added as they headed for the door, “He would like Mister Spock to join us, if that’s all right with you.”

  Parrish noted that his tone of kindly concern was back. It cemented the idea that something was going on here. It was near the end of the shift, dinnertime, and yet both the captain and the first officer were dropping everything to talk to her. “Fine. Will we all be able to talk frankly about what this is really all about?” Parrish asked.

  “Yes,” McCoy said, his face betraying no surprise that she had figured out that much more was at work than the relatively simple matter of an officer becoming pregnant. They walked the rest of the way and rode the turbolift in silence. Less than one minute later they approached the briefing room. The doors opened, and Parrish was not surprised to see Captain Kirk and Mister Spock already seated at the table. The captain’s face was unreadable, as was—of course—the Vulcan’s.

  “Lieutenant, Doctor,” Kirk said. “Have a seat.”

  Parrish sat across from both men as the doctor sat next to her. The captain studied her for a moment. So did Spock. She could see McCoy lean forward, and for a moment she had the feeling that he was trying to protect her.

  Though Parrish had seen the captain a number of times in the last few weeks, they had not exchanged more than a few words. He had asked how she was several times, and she had given him about half a dozen reports. The last time they had spoken face-to-face for any length of time had been in sickbay when she was recovering from the Battle of Starbase 42.

  At that time, he had come to confirm what she had already guessed. That her section chief, Sam Fuller, and Jon had been among those lost in the fighting on the starbase. Kirk had known about Parrish and Jon’s relationship and had offered her Jon’s communicator, tricorder, and phaser. She had accepted them, and he had returned later to bring them to sickbay personally. It had been a small gesture, but it was all he had been able to do, since Jon’s personal effects and citations would naturally go to his family.

  Though Parrish was glad to have Jon’s field equipment, she knew even then that she didn’t need them to remember Jon. She found herself wondering if somehow she had known that she was literally carrying part of Jon.

  “Doctor McCoy has informed me of your situation,” Kirk said.

  “My pregnancy?” she said immediately. She wanted this out in the open as quickly as possible.

  Kirk nodded. Then he looked uncharacteristically uncertain for a moment, as if he did not know quite how to proceed or, more likely, how much to reveal to her.

  “Permission to speak freely, sir?” she asked.

  “Yes, Lieutenant,” he said.

  “Captain, I realize there is something going on here other than a commander’s concern about a pregnancy. It’s also clear to me that this has something to do with Jon, and it is—for some reason that I don’t understand—a sensitive security matter. I would like to get it out in the open immediately.”

  The captain’s face betrayed a mild surprise, but she could see that he was pleased as well. He glanced quickly at Spock, who raised an eyebrow, then the captain turned back to her. She could see him coming to a decision in front of her. When he spoke, he did it without hesitation. “Lieutenant, you are correct on all counts. Though the doctor tells me that there is every indication that your child is healthy, your pregnancy is more complicated than usual—significantly more complicated. To tell you what I am about to, I am going to have to grant you level-one security clearance effective immediately. I assume you remember your Starfleet regulations and know what that means?”

  Parrish nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Lieutenant Parrish, I am afraid that Lieutenant Jon Anderson, the father of your child, was a Klingon agent who was surgically altered to resemble a human. He was sent on board the Enterprise as part of a Klingon plot to install agents at various levels of Starfleet service.”

  No, her mind screamed, though Parrish willed herself silent. It was impossible. She waited for a moment and collected herself before she spoke.

  “Sir, there must be some mistake. I’ve spoken to his family since he died, to his mother…” Even as she spoke, Parrish felt a dawning realization within her. What Kirk had just said was impossible, yet it explained some things about Jon.

  “Doctor McCoy confirmed that Lieutenant Anderson was a biological Klingon. There is no mistake,” Kirk said. “The real Anderson was kidnapped—presumably by Klingon agents—sometime before the Anderson we knew was posted to the Enterprise.”

  “But, sir, I served on Jon’s squad, he never…” She didn’t finish the sentence. How could she explain that she had fought with Jon, and watched him fight like no one she had ever seen. More than one member of this crew, as well as scores of Federation civilians, owed their lives to him. And while there were depths to him that she had never been able to penetrate, she had never had any doubts about his loyalty. She had known him as well as she had known any man. Whatever he was, he had never betrayed his Starfleet oath.

  “I know this is hard to take,” Kirk said.

  She shook her head. “The Jon I knew was no traitor.”

  “Technically, that is true. He was a Klingon,” Spock said.

  “These are the facts as we know them, Lieutenant,” Kirk said. “However, I can also say without a doubt that our Jon never gave less than his all for his shipmates. He was a decorated member of this crew who honored his oath.
I don’t know what he was thinking during his time here, but I suspect that he may have had a change of heart.”

  Change of heart? She wondered. No, not Jon. Even if he had switched sides somehow at the end, it wasn’t because he had changed, it was because he hadn’t—because he was what he was and remained that to the end. But that was something she couldn’t explain to these men, not even to McCoy, whose concern for her she could feel coming from him in waves.

  “He saved my life on Starbase 42, and not just mine,” was all she said in the end. He had fought Klingons then. Fellow Klingons, her mind supplied.

  Kirk nodded. “Except for the secret of his biology, he was never less than an exemplary member of this crew.”

  Those words hung in the air for a moment, and Parrish realized that Kirk understood things about Jon that she could never have explained. Insight that bordered on sorcery, she realized. Well, he was a starship captain.

  “Take some time to think about what you want to do,” Kirk said. “No one believes that you or anyone else who had close contact with Jon knew anything about his identity or his mission for the Klingon Empire. You are a valued member of this crew whatever you decide.”

  Then McCoy spoke, “This is a lot to take in. It may change things for you.”

  May change things…she thought. It felt like the ship was crumbling around her. Jon, a Klingon? It was impossible. Yet, it was also true. And it didn’t change some things, it changed everything.

  Except the truth of what she and Jon had had, and the truth of who Jon was, whatever his biology.

  “I encourage you to discuss your situation with Doctor McCoy and to take some time to think about what you want to do. However, until this matter is resolved, you are hereby removed from active duty.”

  “Sir?” Parrish said, unable to hide her surprise.

  “You cannot remain on active duty, given the circumstances,” Kirk said.

  “Captain, I’m pregnant, not injured or ill,” Parrish said.