"THEY'VE GOT US," GEORGE KIRK MURMURED. "WE'VE LOST."
George Kirk knew he had failed. From now on, when these criminals attacked any other ship, it would somehow be Commander George Kirk's fault. He and his son and his crew, and his friend Captain Robert April - the founder of the Federation Starship Program - would simply disappear and become another mysterious statistic.
And then, a crewman pointed out the window and shouted "Look!"
The enemy ship had suddenly become a wild, demonic nightmare. Its hull buckled against itself, spitting flotsam in some places while it caved inward in others. Whole sections blew open as atmosphere sprayed its frozen funnels from a dozen places. Slits opened up along seams, and more chambers blew open, speing out everything inside.
The ship spun sickeningly on its side, pocked with holes torn by entire consoles that had come off their mountains and smashed through deck after deck ot shoot right through the hull.
"What happened?" George rasped. "What happened to them?"
Robert April spoke first. "I'll tell you what happened, old boy - " He coiled an arm around George's shoulders and howled enthusiastically. "It was your son, James Kirk happened!"