“Heard of hide and seek, Spock?” asked McCoy.

“An Earth children’s game.”

“Surprised you know about it.”

“The game increases cognitive skills at an early age. It utilizes thinking and conclusion processes.“

McCoy rolled his eyes. “Naturally.”

“In our case it's seek, strike, and destroy,” remarked Kirk. He stared grimly at the main bridge viewing screen.

“Approaching Baria Five asteroid field,” replied Sulu from his helm console. He glanced back and forth between his instrumentation and hooded gooseneck viewer sprouting from the console’s upper left corner. Sulu threw an occasional look at the main bridge viewing screen to coordinate instrument readings.

Various sized asteroids speckled and dotted the starfield glittering behind a dense, rocky line of craggy surfaces of potato-shaped rocks composing an imposing layer of obstacles drifting and floating ahead of the ENTERPRISE.

Captain James T. Kirk was not a captain to do so. He preferred wit and strategy.

“All sensors, deflector shields, and phasers at maximum output, Mr. Sulu.”

“Photon torpedoes at maximum intensity as ordered, keptin,” joined in Ensign Pavel Chekov from his navigation console combined with Sulu’s helm board.

Both men pushed multi-colored switches and various colored, gleaming, jewel-like instrumentation with urgent experience earned from different types of dire situations. Helm and navigation consoles replied to their operators with usual melodic bleeps, warbles, and pinging.

Kirk turned to Spock at his library computer station. The Vulcan first officer was bent over his hooded sensor viewer, left hand gently adjusting its silver tuning knob. His piercing, satanic eyes were engrossed with information. The hooded sensor viewer emitted a lambient blue glow. It stamped a rectangular bar of light across Spock’s severely intense brow. A low, heavy-toned pinged as the hooded sensor viewer efficiently sought out vital data utilized by the Vulcan First Officer.

“Asteroid sensor scans, Mr. Spock,” Kirk requested. “Any sensor contact with Klingon battlecruisers? They have to be somewhere in the Baria Five asteroid field waiting for a chance to attack us for prevention of our mission to capture The Phoenix Medical Algae at Paradise Pharmaceuticals medicinal complex along with its scientist creators. I’m sure the Klingons wouldn’t mind getting their dirty hands on them.”

“No sensor contacts at this point in time, captain,” Spock reported, straightening. “It is highly imperative we locate The Phoenix Medical Algae and its scientists before the Klingons.”

“This Phoenix Medical Algae should belong to the Federation so that all its interstellar alliances will benefit from the positive effects of its progressive uses,” Kirk stated thoughtfully.

“We must be on constant guard from this point on, captain.”

“Well put, Mr. Spock,” agreed Kirk. “We certainly shall.”

As if in verification, Kirk swung forward to face Sulu at his helm console.

“Decrease warp speed from warp factor three down to warp factor one, Mr. Sulu. Evasive action. Maintain asteroid field approach in a zig-zag pattern. We don’t need to be an easy target. Just a live one.”

With a slight grin the Japanese helmsman nodded and punched in the command on his helm console. Warp engine drawl began at crescendo. Dwindled down into nothingness.

“Aye, sir. Decreasing speed to warp factor one. Initiating zig-zag maneuvers.”

“Maintain a tight guard, gentlemen. We’ll need it.”

“I’ll say so,” claimed Dr. Leonard McCoy as he emerged through the open and closing red turbo-lift doors. Stepped down into the lower bridge elevation to stand beside Kirk sitting in his command chair.

Kirk turned to face McCoy. “Bones, how are those battered crew members from our rough encounter with Commander Koloth recovering?”

“Pretty well,” McCoy replied. “Nurse Chapel is taking care of things in sickbay. Was wondering how many more patients are going to wind up there. And when this ridiculous game of hide and seek with people’s lives will start and hopefully stop. Whenever that will be.”

“No one knows the outcome. All one big gamble, Bones,” Kirk said. “Especially when facing off against a very dangerous adversary.” He indicated the main bridge viewing screen. Asteroid field slid right as the ENTERPRISE glided left on her zig-zag course.

“Asteroids are difficult obstacles. They will impede our chances of success,” Spock joined in, hands clasped behind his back.

“Even more difficult. Klingon ships among those massive asteroids. They are waiting for us to go through to reach Baria Five,” added Kirk.

“There are quite a number of asteroids present. Sensor scans are easily evaded by concealment within clusters of dense asteroids,” pointed out Spock.

“Your initial sensor scan indicating no contacts might be a feint on the Klingons’ part.”

One of Spock’s eyebrows rose. “Indeed.” He returned to his library computer station, consulting the trusty hooded sensor viewer.

Kirk swung toward Lt. Uhura’s communication station.

“Lt. Uhura, have your attempts to detect Klingon transmissions of any kind picked up even the slightest indications?”

Slender and delicate fingers danced along multi-colored, gleaming instrumentation.

She flicked switches. Pressed more buttons. Addressed Kirk.

“They’re fluctuating in volume and intensity, but remain extremely solid.”

“Klingon static,” claimed Kirk. “Jamming any and all signals.”

“Three contacts within asteroid field. Converging on our position,” announced Spock from his library computer station.

“Heavy bands of static usually represent Klingon attack signals,” remarked Kirk.

The main alarm blared deafeningly and wildly.

Kirk thumbed a button on his command chair armrest.

“All decks and sections red alert!” reverberated Kirk’s voice powerfully throughout the huge starship. “All hands battle stations!”

Kirk surveyed the large, rectangular, main bridge viewing screen. It depicted asteroids sliding left as the ENTERPRISE moved along a second leg of her zig-zag approach course.

“No Klingon battlecruisers yet. Uhura, any communications between Klingon ships?”

“No, sir. More static.”

The medium-sized alert light sitting at center of combined helm-navigation console manned by Sulu and Chekov blinked red and beeped loudly.

Sulu studied his gooseneck hooded sensor viewer with a heavy scowl.

“Sensors detecting three contacts within the asteroid field heading directly for us,” stated Sulu.

“Mr. Spock’s report confirmed. Converging from bow, port, and starboard simultaneously.”

“Everyone alert! Evasive maneuvers, Sulu,” Kirk ordered urgently.

“Klingon disruptors register full power, captain,” reported Spock.

“Here they come,” exclaimed Sulu gawking at the rectangular main bridge viewing screen.

As the main bridge viewing screen’s asteroid image continued sliding, three small Klingon battlecruiser silhouettes emerged from gray and brown rocky background. Two split off to port and starboard. One Klingon battlecruiser remained dead center on direct approach.

A steady line of bright yellow green light pulses flashed from front ends of each rectangular engine nacelle.

The ENTERPRISE buffeted violently from side to side as each Klingon disruptor bolt erupted against her deflector shields.

The main alarm continued blaring deafeningly as each disruptor shot hit home.

“Mr. Sulu. Mr. Chekov. Port, starboard phasers and photon torpedoes. Fire at will!” Kirk ordered.

“With pleasure, sir,” replied Sulu. He frantically pushed and held buttons while staring into his hooded gooseneck viewer.

“Firing all photon torpedoes now, sair,” Chekov responded urgently.

“Jim, how long can we stand all this pounding?” McCoy demanded as he leaned back against a section of red bridge railing near Kirk’s command chair. He held on firmly with both hands while swaying frantically to and fro between hits.

“Mr. Sulu, increase speed to warp factor three. Continue firing. Head for the nearest asteroid,” instructed Kirk. “And much needed safety.”

“About time,” snapped McCoy irritably.

The bridge shook with each Klingon disruptor blast hit the low rumbling of warp engine power rose in volume and tone, ending in a fine crescendo.

Various sized lines of yellow green blobs flared into brilliant explosions as the lead Klingon battlecruiser slowly advanced. Blue-white phaser beams and orange photon torpedoes flared against Klingon battlecruiser’s shields.

The entire bridge swung to one side as Sulu held down certain helm console buttons with outstretched arms.

Background asteroids tilted in the opposite direction, swinging offscreen as huge boulders grew menacingly, yet protectively, offering the safety of shelter for the desperate, rapidly approaching Federation starship.

“Klingon vessels maintaining their attack formation, captain,” reported Spock from his hooded sensor viewer. “They are falling behind as we rapidly approach the asteroid field’s protective cover.”

Kirk nodded in contented satisfaction.

“Very well.”

McCoy approached Kirk’s command chair from where he had braced himself against the red bridge railing section before the red bridge turbo-lift doors.

“You did it, Jim,” McCoy said with extreme relief.

“Spock, they chasing us?” asked Kirk.

“No, sir. Too near the field for Klingons to render us harm,” Spock answered.

“Shut down all phasers and photon torpedoes,” Kirk ordered. “Proceed carefully into the asteroid field, Mr. Sulu.”

“Aye, sir,” replied Sulu, flicking switches and buttons in various sequences.

Uhura stirred and turned to Kirk.

“Incoming hailing signal from the lead Klingon battlecruiser,” she reported excitedly, adjusting her jewel-like communications instrumentation and the ever present silver electronic receiver poking lopsidedly from an ear.

Kirk glanced at Spock and McCoy. Spock raised his eyebrows. McCoy cocked only one.

“Very well, Uhura. On visual.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Uhura. She pressed multi-colored buttons. ”On visual, sir.”

Main bridge viewing screen’s image fluttered from the asteroid field to a familiar face.

“Kang,” stated Kirk. “Wasn’t sure. Now I’m certain. It’s Klingon Commander Koloth we tangled with before entering the black hole.”

“Indeed. It seems our encounters are predestined, Kirk,” Kang grunted.

Kirk nodded.

“Including our encounter with that negative energy creature feeding on our hostilities and prejudices. We worked together in defeating it,” explained Kirk. “Escorted you and your crew to the nearest Starbase. Scheduled a rendezvous through the Federation Klingon ambassador. Safely escorted back to Klingon Space. Seems you are still, at this moment, once again, under that negative energy creature’s influence. Especially when planning this Baria Five Paradise Pharmaceuticals massacre?”

“Sarcasm,” remarked Kang sarcastically. “Expected from Earthers. Communication travels extremely quickly involving matters such as this Phoenix Medical Algae. Especially through deep space.”

“I can imagine,” said Kirk. “A Klingon agent similar to Arne Darvin back at Space Station K-7 during the tribble debacle.”

“Fortunately, bypassing Paradise Pharmaceuticals security protocols went as smoothly as bypassing your Space Station K-7 Quadrotriticale Grain security protocols, Kirk,” replied Kang. “Our agent enabled us to occupy Baria Five and Paradise Pharmaceuticals extremely easily and quickly. It is under total Klingon surveillance.”

“Surveillance. Occupation. Strikes a familiar bell.”

“Indeed?” questioned Kang.

“Klingon Commander Kor. Our first meeting on Organia. Kor’s Klingon occupation forces. An abundance of Klingon soldiers,” explained Kirk.

“Along with your infamous mind-sifter Kor was quite adept in organizing his troops. Kor would be a prime choice for commanding Klingon occupational forces on Baria Five.”

“Koloth, Kor, and myself,” stated Kang. “A reunion of old friends, Kirk?”

“Now YOU’RE sarcastic, Kang.”

“Klingons learn quickly, Kirk,” replied Kang.

“Except for the location of The Phoenix Medical Algae consignment,” added Kirk.

“The Klingon Empire vitally needs The Phoenix Medical Algae consignment to rejuvenate depleted ecosystems in poor planetary systems to survive.”

“For weapon enhancement through biological toxics such as germ warfare?”

“Our planetary systems have the right to survive. Live along with other planetary systems throughout the galaxy,” declared Kang.

“Not at the risk of other civilizations and unknown life forms,” retorted Kirk. “The Phoenix Medical Algae was meant for all life and civilizations. Not just for The Klingon Empire. The Federation Alliances are part of that life and civilizations. Including the Klingon Empire. Your interruption has thrown a wrench in the works. As usual.”

“Klingons are meant to conquer,” argued Kang. “It is our tradition. We live by this tradition. Our lives are based on a military life. We take what we desire! Conquer! Conquest!”

“From this point on we both must locate The Phoenix Medical Algae while attempting to thwart each other’s progress. Confiscate it,” Kang continued. “Use it for the survival of the Klingon Empire.”

The main bridge viewing screen fluttered back to the asteroid field’s image as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

Silence draped the bridge except for continuous pinging, whirring, beeping, warbling background sounds of bridge instrumentation along with a plethora of urgent voices emanating from deep within the decks making it up through various intercom lines to the ENTERPRISE’s bridge, grimly relaying damage reports and medical injuries.

Inky darkness covered Professors Senkovitch and Bianchi. Reluctantly, grimly, they cautiously climbed over a yawning, wide four foot circular concrete maintenance tunnel hatch. Both scientists had lowered their dirty, coveralled legs and feet carefully on built-in ladder rungs protruding from the access tunnel’s cylindrical, curving walls.

The access tunnel was barely illuminated by daylight, fading downward into foreboding darkness. Both Professors cautiously continued their reluctant descent.

“Klingons will find that open entry hatch we just stepped through,” panted Professor Bianchi. She looked up at the shrinking hole of daylight sky directly over the open round hatch above.

Professor Senkovitch kept looking down anxiously at the pitch blackness lurking beneath them.

“Cover too heavy for replacing,” Professor Senkovitch explained. “We’ll be long gone, traversing these confusing mazes of endless maintenance tunnels toward our Paradise Pharmaceuticals Nightingale Lab. Right into Commander Kor’s Klingon mind-sifter.”

“In a maintenance tunnel?” questioned Professor Bianchi.

“Depends what’s down there,” replied Professor Senkovitch. “As well as the maintenance tunnel’s present condition.”

Dim light below them began with a soft glow.

“Logical deductions and conclusions,” responded Professor Bianchi.

“Looks like light down there,” stated Professor Senkovitch.

“Could mean heat and power,” stated Professor Bianchi.

“Logical deductions and conclusions,” said Professor Senkovitch sarcastically.

Light increased, illuminating the access tunnel’s circular exit. Gray, metallic, rectangular grid grating design of the maintenance tunnel floor was seen.

Professor Senkovitch warily stepped off the last rung. Professor Bianchi followed.

Both stared around in amazement, confusion, and trepidation. Three tunnels formed an intersection. Right. Left. Straight ahead.

Dim light from warped, tiled, cylindrical maintenance tunnels enhanced sparkling, overloaded circuit relay casings, flickering orange lights, sputtering power cables, and shredded wire terminals. They all spread endlessly into the distance disappearing into the murkiness of dim, flashing lights.

“Power relays. Power junctions. Affected by the Klingon assault’s concussion,” surmised Professor Senkovitch. He examined their surroundings, attempting to ponder their next option.

“Unbelievable these maintenance tunnels were ruined this far underground,” commented Professor Bianchi. She looked about urgently.

“We don’t know anything about these maintenance tunnels. We’re more accustomed to working with laboratory experiments,” stated Professor Senkovitch.

“We’d better get used to these maintenance tunnels very quickly,” said Professor Bianchi, frowning intensely.

She approached a cluster of rectangular, metal wall cases hanging near a junction. Struggled with its large, partially rusted snap locks.

“We’ll need directions and layouts of the maintenance tunnels. Following them, we can reface Kor at Nightingale Labs,” stated Professor Bianchi.

Her struggles to open the metal wall cases were futile.

“Also need a weapon,” added Professor Senkovitch. He looked around for a heavy, manageable object similar to what they had used on Baria Five’s surface: a long, steel cylindrical rod and warped rectangular metal plating.

He frustratingly kicked bits of discarded debris lying along sides of cracked curving maintenance tunnel walls.

Professor Senkovitch spotted one small, exposed rack, containing three dirty phaser pistols. They registered depleted power settings.

Must have been used by maintenance tunnel workers against invading Klingon soldiers during their attack.

Professor Bianchi discovered a stray sledgehammer lying haphazardly on the dirty, gritty floor. She used it to whack repeatedly on the rusty wall case’s sturdy, resistant locks. One final heavy whack cracked the grimy wall case open.

Various kinds of tools hung in a row of support clips. Large, bulky power drill; thick, electric screwdriver, magnetic wrench, electronic “c” clamp, and heavy hammer piledriver.

Hanging above the tools was a rectangular, hand-sized, hard plastic, thin pouch with small hinges. Through its transparency something appeared folded.

Gingerly, Professor Bianchi removed the plastic case. She unhinged it with a look of curiosity.

Professor Senkovitch appeared behind her. Kept his gaze on three phaser pistols clutched in his hands.

“Natalia. Found three phaser pistols. Practically depleted. Exhausted. Perhaps I might be able to drain phaser power from two weaker phasers to transfer into one single working phaser. Would pack a good, solid punch.” He focused on three phaser pistols clutched in his hands.

Professor Senkovitch noticed Professor Bianchi’s presence. Peered over her shoulder at an unfolded plastic blueprint plan. It displayed thin, eye-straining, confusing schematics.

“What’s that?” Inquired Professor Senkovitch curiously. For the moment his three phaser pistols were forgotten.

He peered intently at Professor Bianchi’s plans.

“A detailed plan of these maintenance tunnels. I think,” she replied absently. Her eyes flicked rapidly over the crowded plans. Her mind attempted to make sense of the baffling torrent of information.

Professor Senkovitch stepped closer. His eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Confusing. Lots of information. Difficult to assimilate. Recognize basic tunnel layout configuration,” he mused thoughtfully.

“Not most of the finer details,” Professor Bianchi added. “There are different sections labeled all around here where we are.”

Professor Senkovitch indicated various blueprint areas with his grubby finger.

“Appears to be electrical component diagrams in this section,” he indicated.

“Over here are power generators,” Professor Bianchi joined in. Her slender grimy finger pointed to another blueprint area.

“The maintenance tunnel’s entrance,” Professor Senkovitch stated. “Has to be labeled around here somewhere.”

“We’ll backtrack to the maintenance tunnel’s entrance, and triangulate our position from there.”

“Must be other maintenance tunnel exits or access symbols besides the entrance through which we came,” said Professor Senkovitch.

“Near our Nightingale Laboratory,” Professor Bianchi pointed out.

“And Kor,” announced Professor Senkovitch grimly.

“Yes. Kor,” echoed Professor Bianchi emotionlessly, coldly.

“Here!” cried out Professor Senkovitch. His hand darted to a particular spot on the unfolded portable chart.

Professor Bianchi snapped her head to the spot indicated by Professor Senkovitch’s urgently pointing finger.

“An exterior surface hatch,” she commented. “Not very far from the Nightingale lab.”

Professor Senkovitch nodded in agreement.

“Kor may be waiting for us with a trap.”

“To be expected. Have to find a way to defend ourselves.”

Professor Senkovitch raised his three phaser pistols.

“Found these,” he offered. “Seem to be used up. Condition isn’t good. Perhaps we could transfer energy from two into one.”

“Worth a try,” said Professor Bianchi. “Perhaps these tools may come in handy.”

She showed professor Senovitch the large, bulky power drill, thick, electric screwdriver, magnetic wrench, electronic “c” clamp, and heavy hammer piledriver now in her coverall pockets.

“Quite a catch,” complimented Professor Senkovitch in surprise. “Where?”

Professor Binachi gestured at the yawning empty wall equipment case from which she had removed the tools: bulky power drill; electric screwdriver; magnetic wrench; electronic “c” clamp; hammer piledriver; energy neutralizer.

Professor Senkovitch squinted at it carefully.

“An auxiliary support station,” he claimed. “Should contain something else.”

“Right,” agreed Professor Bianchi sardonically. “We’re not familiar with these maintenance tunnels. I get the feeling you know more than you’re telling.”

“Simple deductions and conclusions,” replied Professor Senkovitch. He approached the wall case. Extended an arm toward it. Fingered ran along its rough surface interior. Yanked out a silver, palm-size, rectangular gauging device. Contained readout gauge with dials and buttons.

“What is it?” questioned Professor Bianchi.

“Energy neutralizer. Used to temporarily diffuse energy during power junction repairs.”

“I was right. You do know more than you’re telling.”

Professor Senkovitch held it up for Professor Bianchi to examine.

“May come in handy with your repair utensils.”

“And our survival,” added Professor Bianchi.

“I’ll hold onto this. Your coverall pockets are full,” said Professor Senkovitch.

They began to move quickly along the correct maintenance tunnel.

“Weapons?”

“Wait until we get there. Need to re-energize or transfer power between these phaser pistols.”

“Think Klingons are following us?” queried Professor Bianchi.

“Did. During the Klingons’ first attack fighting Baria Five personnel,” breathed Professor Senkovitch.

“Now its our turn,” huffed Professor Bianchi.

They moved quicky through dimly lit maintenance tunnels.

Precariously attached, it hung menacingly from a vertical support rod jutting down Paradise Pharmaceutical Communications center’s dilapidated ceiling.

It displayed a Klingon party of six soldiers armed with Klingon hand disruptors. The six Klingon soldiers precariously climbed down the round access hatch used by Professors Senkovitch and Bianchi.

“Klingon security teams entering underground maintenance tunnels as you ordered, commander,” Krax reported. Followed Kor’s intense gaze up at the round monitor screen.

Kor nodded contentedly. “Excellent.”

“Indeed, commander,” acknowledged Krax. “However, you had originally planned for the Phoenix Medical Algae scientists to return to their Nightingale Laboratory on their own.”

Kor snapped an angry glare at Krax.

“Questioning orders, Krax?” Kor snapped angrily at Krax.

Kor advanced menacingly upon Krax. Intense fury gleamed in Kor’s satanic eyes. Krax’s right hand snapped up defensively. He faced Kor in acquiescent surrender.

“On the contrary, commander,” Krax replied instantly. “Your strategy will ensure our complete success.”

“It will, Indeed,” replied Kor. “Our security teams are familiar with that infernal maze of underground maintenance tunnels since our initial invasion. They shall eventually intercept our favorite pair of scientists and herd them to their Nightingale Laboratory Complex. We shall await arrival with apprehending forces. In the meantime, those forces will ransack the Nightingale Laboratory for signs of this Phoenix Medical Algae Consignment.”

Kor turned to survey the large communications center. Four vertical, oval, tall sections ranked alongside each other, ceiling to floor, composed a large wall size world map. Fronting world wall size map were three white, rectangular consoles. They contained thin, shiny, rows of gleaming silver buttons surrounding small readout screens. A Klingon soldier sat in front of each console. Extended gooseneck mics curved up to their mouths. “Above each console hung a globular, spherical monitor at end of vertical rods extending from the cracked ceiling.

Behind the three computer console stations squatted an overcrowded table smothered with now familiar Baria Five plastic flimsies depicting the installation’s plans.

“All this would not be possible if we hadn’t found and repowered this communications facility.”

Kor faced the center console. His searching, keen eyes urgently flicked along glittering rows of control buttons. He leaned down and in past the seated Klingon soldier to glare demandingly at the brightly colored, flickering readouts. Their eerie glow lit up Kor’s satanic face, enhancing his devil features.

“Maintain tracers on all security teams’ progress through the subterranean maintenance tunnels. Track their progress to the Phoenix Medical Algae along with scientists approach to the Nightingale Laboratory complex. I will lead our interception team for their inevitable arrival.”

Mara, Klingon Commander Kang’s wife emerged through hellish crimson glow shrouding the murky Klingon bridge. She seemed to float through the mist toward Kang. He was seated in his throne-like control seat. It was isolated amidst a flat, dank ocean of dark metallic deck grating bordered on all sides with inward inclining Klingon bridge control stations. Their status readouts glowed bright red, and were supported by slanting bulkhead stanchions under a gently curving ceiling.

Mara stood defiantly next to an intensely brooding Kang. Both stared grimly at the main Klingon bridge monitor displaying grid-like pattern layouts of Klingon battlecruiser and Federation starship silhouettes moving inexorably toward, and inside, various-sized rocky asteroids represented as solid red silhouettes.

The ENTERPRISE silhouette moved slowly in and around the asteroid field, traveling deeper, occasionally mixing with dense asteroid silhouettes.

“Federation starship moving into the asteroid field,” Kang observed.

“So shall our other two battlecruisers. All disruptors bear on the ENTERPRISE.”

“Kirk deserves life,” stated Mara firmly. “He saved our crew and his. Both Klingon and Federation forces were united against a powerful alien entity aboard his vessel manipulating us constantly, endlessly, against each other. This same cooperation between Federation and Klingon Empire can also be accomplished in this manner involving the Phoenix Medical Algae consignment. Both sides can equally partake of this new powerful advancement.”

“Weapon,” stated Kang boldly. “We shall utilize this product as a powerful biological weapon for all interstellar alliances and potential growth for The Klingon Empire’s poor, struggling systems. The Klingon Empire shall reign supreme. This subject has already been discussed between us, Mara. It is useful to mention Kirk at this critical juncture. Only as a cunning adversary for battle.”

“This will also affect other Federation alliances,” claimed Mara. “All will unite against The Klingon Empire. Our forces will be heavily overrun and outnumbered by these forces. We must not risk this opportunity for peace.”

“This crusade was incited by the Klingon High Command,” replied Kang. He maintained his cold stare ahead at the bridge monitor. “For survival. Ours. Disregarding orders from the Klingon High Command means death.”

“And at the hands of overpowering Federation alliance forces. The Phoenix Medical Algae Consignment must be shared with them. The Klingon Empire will be looked upon with extreme favor and gratitude,” Mara desperately pleaded. “If not, interstellar war shall elevate into mutual destruction.”

“Then destruction it shall be. In honor of The Klingon Empire.”

Mara remained stone-faced.

So did Kang.

“Maintain approach. Prepare to fire on my command.”

“Klingons attacking, captain.”

“Deflector shields, phasers, and photon torpedoes on maximum.”

“Aye, Keptin. Photon torpedoes on standby.”

“Phaser power on full, sir.”

“Attack method, Mr. Spock?”

“Kang and his two accompanying Klingon battlecruisers are steadily pounding through the asteroid field. They are converging on our present position,” Spock reported. He peered grimly into his hooded sensor viewer’s blue, lambient glow. “They are not plotting safely and efficiently navigable courses through which they can traverse the asteroid field. Never have I observed such intense tenacity.”

“Kang really wants our hides desperately, Jim.”

“He’s going to have to keep on hammering or drilling those asteroids. It’ll slow Kang. Increase our chances of reaching Baria Five, The Phoenix Medical algae, and its scientists.”

“IF we reach Baria Five, Jim.”

“Chekov’s navigational plots will bring us past and through the asteroid field’s largest, most dense asteroids. They will provide more than adequate protection against Kang’s attacks. These things are just huge rocks, Bones. VERY big. VERY dense. At some point Kang’s disruptor bolts won’t be able to make much of a dent, let alone blast these things to rubble. Kang will eventually just wind up chipping off a few pieces instead of breaking them apart. My only concern right now is how well our deflector shields can withstand asteroid showers.”

“As well as the Klingon battlecruiser disruptor bolts, captain,” said Spock, straightening from his hooded sensor viewer, leaving one hand possessively on it.

“How so, Spock?” Kirk asked turning away from McCoy to face his Vulcan first officer.

“Our past experiences with the Klingons indicates both our shields are evenly matched.

They should not cause harm in our protection tactics concerning asteroid debris inflicting hull damage.”

“Not that I don’t trust you, Spock.”

“Never did, Jim. Those ears,” quipped McCoy.

“Verification is always good.” Kirk pressed the intercom button on his right command chair armrest. “Bridge to engineering. Kirk to Scott. Quick question.”

“Hope it ain’t got nuthin’ tae do with power, sair. As usual we’re barely makin’ it along as is.”

“It may just be about power. Deflector shields. Strong enough for repelling dangerous asteroid debris?”

“Asteroid debris, captain?”

“The Klingons are pounding their way through Baria Five’s asteroid field directly toward us. We’ll undoubtedly undergo barrages of various sized debris asteroid chunks. Deflector shields penetration?”

“They’re meant tae withstand these beasties. Nae, captain. At our current power levels our deflector shields have been known to stand a whole lot more than those wee bits a rock, as yee are no doubt aware of during past experiences with Klingons. Dinna worry, sair. We’ll keep a steady, close eye on things back here. Give all support ya need.”

“Thank you, Mr. Scott. We’ll need it.” Kirk punched off. “Now where have I heard that line about past experiences before?”

“Sounds familiar,” McCoy said. “Doesn’t it?”

Both officers turned to Spock. The Vulcan science officer removed his hand from the hooded sensor viewer. Straightened elegantly. Clasped both hands behind his back. Cocked a sardonic eyebrow.

“Kang. You must not follow this plan of attack,” Mara stressed as she emerged from hellish crimson murk continually shrouding the D7 Class Klingon battlecruiser bridge. “Murder. Massacre over a foolish serum. Despite its interstellar biological implications far too many lives will be lost.”

“Kirk again,” rumbled Kang. He resembled an intensely brooding gargoyle squatting on a majestic throne. It stared solidly at the main monitor tactically depicting the ENTERPRISE’s entrance into Baria Five’s asteroid field in a red-on-black screen motif. The monitor’s bright ruby aura cast Kang in a demonic glow along with two Klingon soldiers sitting in front of their stations.

“Maintain disruptor fire on asteroids,” he uttered gutturally. “We must gain on the ENTERPRISE. Slow her progress to Baria Five. We shall use the advantage of overtaking her slower speed as she wastes time slowing in and around those troublesome rocks while our asteroid debris reigns upon her. The asteroid rubble will aid our attack.”

“Not just Kirk. More importantly,” stated Mara desperately. “Our assault on Paradise Pharmaceuticals will elevate this Phoenix Medical Algae conflict to an interstellar war. The Federation and its alliances will attempt to completely obliterate The Klingon Empire.”

“The Federation will not initiate war. They will negotiate. It is their way to avoid war at all costs. This conflict will restrain us from increasing more turmoil than we already have,” stated Kang. His rough, hewn, granite facial features remained immobile. “As mentioned earlier, our culture thrives on elements of turmoil involving total conquests through victorious conquerors such as we. The Klingon Empire. Vast. Strong. The Klingon High Command welcomes such challenges, overcoming them in all forms of combat to increase strength and full might of The Klingon Empire, insuring prosperity for our weaker systems. Our capture and utilization of The Phoenix Medical Algae shall insure Klingon prosperity.”

“Insane, relentless, assaults will assail The Klingon Empire on all fronts,” emphasized Mara. “Again. On Kirk’s ship you were our only factor halting all hostilities against his starship personnel. The alien creature had set us foolishly against each other. It occurs once more. Here. Now. Again. In this instance it is you. Solely responsible. Endless, cruel violence. Not some outside, interfering, alien entity. End all this madness. This insanity. NOW. While you are able. I IMPLORE YOU, KANG.”

“Krit,” ordered Kang. “Arm a guard. Imprison my wife in our chambers. She requires quiet moments of deep contemplation until she regains her senses. Under no circumstances is she to be further disturbed. I render it such. Away! Immediately!”

Two Klingon soldiers faded into sight through continual red bridge mist. Grabbed Mara abruptly. Mara struggled furiously against strong vise-like grips easily clamping her twisting arms. Krit accompanied the two Klingon soldiers as they escorted Mara roughly to one of the rear bridge doors. Mara fought defiantly all the way.

“Perhaps you really ARE some outside alien entity after all, Kang!” she declared. Thick, heavy, grimy, metallic Klingon bridge doors thunked open. Klunked shut. Mara’s screams were cut off.

Kang remained as granite. Brow heavy. Prominent. Covered sharply glaring eyes.

They coldly, malevolently keenly observed constant yellow green disruptor bolt flares during asteroid field bombardment in the monitor screen’s red-on-black grid tactical grid.

“Maintain disruptor fire! Kirk and his precious ENTERPRISE shall be destroyed!”