Precipice

His eyes darted from one shadow to another, seeking any clue as to the human’s position. With his comm unit all but pressed to his lips, he said, “Gortog to Marax. Respond.”

There was no answer from the soldier inside the ship.

Gortog turned off his communicator and skulked away from the tu

Moving beside the wall, Gortog circled the ship. There were no lights on inside its cockpit or main compartment. None of its systems had been powered up.

As he neared the aft end of the vessel, he saw Marax’s body lying on the boarding ramp.

Then he stepped in a pool of viscous liquid. A heavy drop of something warm splattered onto his shoulder, and he looked up.

Kmchok’s lifeless eyes looked down at him through a gap in the catwalk’s crooked planks. His throat had been cut.

Tightening his grip on his d’k tahg,Gortog trusted his instincts and prowled toward the ship. Regaining control of the vessel was certain to be the human’s objective, so if he wasn’t already there, he soon would be.

From the far side of the building’s ground level came the faint sound of a pebble bouncing across a rocky dirt floor.

Gortog crouched and advanced with silent steps beneath the parked ship. Sheltered in the near-perfect darkness under the vessel, he strained to pierce the shadows beyond the ship. There was no sign of movement. He stalked forward and slipped between the ship’s rear landing struts to prevent his enemy from seeing his silhouette in motion.

Searing pain slashed through the tendon behind Gortog’s left ankle. Another brutal cut severed the ligaments behind his right knee. His legs buckled as the tip of a blade stabbed into his lower back. He spun as he fell, trying to strike back, but all he could do was flail as he lost his balance and collapsed.

His d’k tahgwas blocked by another, and a glint of dim light flashed across the temper line of a human-made knife as it cut Gortog’s right wrist. Then the knife snapped back and plunged into Gortog’s throat. It ripped free, trailing flesh and dripping blood as he landed on his back, unable to move or breathe.

The human male kicked the d’k tahgfrom Gortog’s hand. He stood over the fallen Klingon and watched him suffer his death throes. Maybe the human will end my misery with a mercy stroke,Gortog hoped.

His enemy turned, walked away, and left him to die.

Qui

He tossed aside the inert explosive device. It landed on the dirt floor beside the homing beacon he had found behind a bulkhead in the ship’s cargo bay.

He shook his head. Amateurs.

Walking back up the ramp into the main compartment, he was relieved to get away from the stench of blood that permeated the air outside. In the muggy heat of the late-summer evening, the four dead Klingons—who had not smelled particularly pleasant while alive—had quickly become putrid.

With the push of a button, he closed the ramp behind him. He hurried forward to the cockpit, powered up the ship, and confirmed all systems were operational.

First things first,he reminded himself.

He took the tricorder from his belt and followed the steps Bridy had taught him for uploading its memory core to the ship’s computer. When a soft double-beep from the console confirmed that the transfer was done, he began an encrypted burst transmission to Vanguard, sending them all the readings he had taken at the temple ruins in the desert. Though the tricorder had been active for only a short time, it had recorded a massive amount of data.

As the burst transmission continued, Qui

A green light flashed on his command console. The burst transmission was complete. Time to get this show on the road.

He engaged the antigrav module and the maneuvering thrusters. The Rocinantewobbled under him for a moment as it began its vertical liftoff, the engines splitting the air with their high-pitched whine and kicking up roiling clouds of dust from the building’s floor. Then the ship’s ascent became swift and smooth. The mottled gray starhopper broke through the ramshackle roof, scattering timbers, scrap metal, and a flurry of thatch in all directions. Then it pivoted and raced north toward the temple.

Qui

The best plan is a simple one,Qui

“Eject in twenty seconds,”declared the vaguely feminine and utterly mechanical-sounding computer voice.

He dashed out of the cockpit, grabbed his backpack filled with emergency supplies and explosives, and sprinted aft as the Rocinantesailed alone on its final flight.

“Eject in ten seconds.”

The hatch of the escape pod creaked loudly as Qui

“Eject in five seconds.”

A board dotted with small indicator lights flickered weakly and stuttered into darkness.

“Four …”

Qui

“Three …”

He set his thumb above the master ejection switch. The engines screamed as the ship began its last dive.

“Two …”

Remembering all the times this beat-up old rattletrap of a ship had saved his worthless skin, he choked back tears and made a silent apology: Sorry, old girl.

“One. Eject.”

He pressed the ejection switch. Nothing happened.

Fuck.

Before he could curse the ship for spitefully taking him down with it, the pod lurched and kicked his guts into his throat as it hurtled into free fall.

Through a sliver of a viewport on the side of the pod, Qui

He braced himself. This was going to hurt.

It did. The pod smashed hard against the stone rooftop. Qui

The shocks of impact ceased, and the feeling of swift downward motion returned. Through the narrow viewport he saw the pod had missed the flat section of the roof and was sliding down one of its sloped portions. Not good.

He pulled the hatch-release lever. Small explosive charges blasted the metal door off the pod, which continued to roll erratically down the roof.

With one hand pushing him toward freedom and the other clutching the strap of his backpack, Qui

His fingers dug into a deep crack between two slabs, and he hung on with all the strength that existential terror gave him. He looked down and watched the pod tumble over the edge into the night. A few seconds later he heard it make impact.