his first officer, Vixis. His initial reaction was to smile, but he frowned instead. It was more in keeping with his portrayal of the intense, restless young captain, eager for battle.
“Captain Klaa,” she said, smiling. Her eyes shone; her golden complexion was flushed. Her expression was much the same as it had been when she first told him of the diversion to Nimbus, and so Klaa knew the message she brought would be a welcome one. “We’ve just intercepted an encoded message on the Federation frequency. The starship
Enterprise
has been dispatched to Nimbus Three.”
“Enterprise,”
Klaa whispered. “Kirk’s ship … ”
He had expected good news; he had never dared dream it would be this good. He felt like throwing back his head and roaring with joy at the second gift the gods had just dropped in his lap—but he restrained himself in front of the crew.
Kirk, the criminal who had killed almost an entire crew of Klingons, stolen their vessel, developed the Genesis device with the intention of committing genocide against the Empire . . . To destroy James Kirk and his ship would be the achievement of a lifetime, of a thousand lifetimes. Kill Kirk, and Klaa would no longer be concerned about his status as captain of
Okrona.
The Empire would reward him with an entire fleet of vessele! Klaa folded his arms tightly across his chest and permitted a low laugh to escape.
Vixis’s smile was dazzling.” ’There will be no peaceas long as Kirk lives,’” she said, quoting Ambassador Kamarg’s deathless words to the Federation Council. “Our Empire’s highest bounty has been placed on his head.”
Klaa paused to study his first officer. She was statuesque, of elegant beauty and bloodline, and he had noticed that she watched him. He trusted no one, a trait that had served him well thus far.
You would like to see me destroy the
Enterprise,
wouldn’t you, Vixis? For then you would be the first officer—and possibly, someday, the consort—of the Empire’s greatest hero.
He did not know her well enough yet to trust her, though in truth, Klaa found the prospect altogether appealing.
“James T. Kirk,” he said slowly. He stroked his chin as he stared at Vixis. “I’ve followed his career since I was a boy.” His own career gave promise of paralleling Kirk’s. “A man I admire . . . and hate. If I could defeat Kirk—”
“You would be the greatest warrior in the galaxy,” Vixis breathed.
Klaa turned like a whip to face Tarag, the helmsman. Morek, seated next to him, wore a sour expression that evaporated instantly. “Maximum speed!” Klaa roared.
“Yes, my captain,” Tarag replied. Morek’s expression was now one of subservient respect.
“Success!” Klaa cried. He turned to Vixis and saluted her with a fist struck against his heart. If all went well, perhaps he would offer her the chance to be his paramour as well as his first officer. Perhaps, if she remained loyal and kept his interest…
She returned the gesture with passionate grace. “Success . . . my captain. Death to James Kirk and the crew of the
Enterprise.”
“Captain’s Log, Stardate Eighty-four—”
The log recorder gave a muffled groan. Jim Kirk did likewise, and put a hand to his forehead, as if to forestall the onset of a headache. “Replay.”
The recorder played back a stretch of static that sounded to Jim like bacon frying.
He drew in a deep breath. He was not about to be outdone by a machine. “Try again,” he said, in what he considered an admirably patient tone. To his delight, the computer log complied; the recording light on the console came on.
“Captain’s Log,” Jim began confidently, “Stardate Eighty-four—”
The recorder groaned again, then made a new noise that sounded suspiciously like a death rattle.
“Forget it. Just forget it,” Jim said. The recording light went out as he rubbed his temples.
“Getting a bit of a headache?” McCoy asked cheerfully, in a voice that struck Jim as just a
“Captain Klaa,” she said, smiling. Her eyes shone; her golden complexion was flushed. Her expression was much the same as it had been when she first told him of the diversion to Nimbus, and so Klaa knew the message she brought would be a welcome one. “We’ve just intercepted an encoded message on the Federation frequency. The starship
Enterprise
has been dispatched to Nimbus Three.”
“Enterprise,”
Klaa whispered. “Kirk’s ship … ”
He had expected good news; he had never dared dream it would be this good. He felt like throwing back his head and roaring with joy at the second gift the gods had just dropped in his lap—but he restrained himself in front of the crew.
Kirk, the criminal who had killed almost an entire crew of Klingons, stolen their vessel, developed the Genesis device with the intention of committing genocide against the Empire . . . To destroy James Kirk and his ship would be the achievement of a lifetime, of a thousand lifetimes. Kill Kirk, and Klaa would no longer be concerned about his status as captain of
Okrona.
The Empire would reward him with an entire fleet of vessele! Klaa folded his arms tightly across his chest and permitted a low laugh to escape.
Vixis’s smile was dazzling.” ’There will be no peaceas long as Kirk lives,’” she said, quoting Ambassador Kamarg’s deathless words to the Federation Council. “Our Empire’s highest bounty has been placed on his head.”
Klaa paused to study his first officer. She was statuesque, of elegant beauty and bloodline, and he had noticed that she watched him. He trusted no one, a trait that had served him well thus far.
You would like to see me destroy the
Enterprise,
wouldn’t you, Vixis? For then you would be the first officer—and possibly, someday, the consort—of the Empire’s greatest hero.
He did not know her well enough yet to trust her, though in truth, Klaa found the prospect altogether appealing.
“James T. Kirk,” he said slowly. He stroked his chin as he stared at Vixis. “I’ve followed his career since I was a boy.” His own career gave promise of paralleling Kirk’s. “A man I admire . . . and hate. If I could defeat Kirk—”
“You would be the greatest warrior in the galaxy,” Vixis breathed.
Klaa turned like a whip to face Tarag, the helmsman. Morek, seated next to him, wore a sour expression that evaporated instantly. “Maximum speed!” Klaa roared.
“Yes, my captain,” Tarag replied. Morek’s expression was now one of subservient respect.
“Success!” Klaa cried. He turned to Vixis and saluted her with a fist struck against his heart. If all went well, perhaps he would offer her the chance to be his paramour as well as his first officer. Perhaps, if she remained loyal and kept his interest…
She returned the gesture with passionate grace. “Success . . . my captain. Death to James Kirk and the crew of the
Enterprise.”
“Captain’s Log, Stardate Eighty-four—”
The log recorder gave a muffled groan. Jim Kirk did likewise, and put a hand to his forehead, as if to forestall the onset of a headache. “Replay.”
The recorder played back a stretch of static that sounded to Jim like bacon frying.
He drew in a deep breath. He was not about to be outdone by a machine. “Try again,” he said, in what he considered an admirably patient tone. To his delight, the computer log complied; the recording light on the console came on.
“Captain’s Log,” Jim began confidently, “Stardate Eighty-four—”
The recorder groaned again, then made a new noise that sounded suspiciously like a death rattle.
“Forget it. Just forget it,” Jim said. The recording light went out as he rubbed his temples.
“Getting a bit of a headache?” McCoy asked cheerfully, in a voice that struck Jim as just a
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