The Chimes at
By
Kapact
Disclaimer:
No matter how much
Summary: During
the height of the Klingon/Federation cold war, Captain Kapact discovers a
tragedy for Ambassador Sarek and uncovers an historical conspiracy just as the
first fragile overtures for peace between the Federation and the Klingon Empire
are taking place.
Historian's Note: This takes place
sometime between the events in "Star Trek: The Motion Picture" (hence
the "TMP" era in the subject header) and "Star Trek Three: The
Search for Spock". At this point, Kapact's father is not long dead,
tensions between the Federation and the Klingon Empire are extremely high, and
the alliance between the Klingons and the Romulans is on the decline. Border
skirmishes between supposedly rogue elements of both empires are frequent, and
the Klingon civil war that I mentioned in "Prey" is not far in the
future...
(Author's
note: some of you may note a Vulcan name that doesn't fit established patterns.
That is because the name was created by someone else, and I didn't think it
proper to alter it.)
In the Lambda Hydrae
system, along the Klingon/Romulan border...
"They
are still pursuing!" Captain Kapact swore at the image of the Romulan
'Snipe' warbird closing behind the K'tinga Class IKV Durango. "Prepare another volley of aft torpedoes!"
His
executive officer, M'rel looked up from the tactical station. "Torpedoes
ready!" His normally bugged eyes seemed even more so.
Kapact
raised one hand in anticipation. "Fire!" He switched the viewer to
aft just as the first torpedo belched from the aft launcher and struck the
Snipe's weakened forward shield. There was a flash of green as the shields were
momentarily overwhelmed. Then the second torpedo struck, shattering the forward
hull. The explosion quickly spread through the small ship, finally catching the
atomic weapons store. A white hot explosion followed seconds later.
"Glorious."
M'rel said it for them all. He turned to the helm officer. "Come
about."
"Set
course for Beta Thoridor." Kapact sat down fully in his chair. That was
when the Durango was slammed forward.
"Report!"
"Two
more Snipes have decloaked behind us! They each fired plasma torpedoes at point
blank range!" M'rel shouted. Another impact sent a shower of explosions
into the face of the tactical.officer. M'rel was there in an instant, shoving
the decapitated corpse aside and asessing the damage. "Defensive systems
offline. Weapons overloaded. Repairs proceeding."
Kapact
swore again. "Set course for the sixth planet. It is a gas giant. Maximum
warp!"
The
helm officer set the course, and the Durango
leapt into warp with two Snipes on its tail. At the same time, M'rel moved back
to speak quietly with Kapact. "Our hull will crack like an eggshell in
there."
Kapact
didn't mind M'rel questioning him out of earshot of the crew, since it would have
no effect on discipline. "Shields don't operate inside a gas giant, my
friend. Their hulls will crack just as quickly." Then he smiled.
"Hopefully quicker."
Just
a few minutes later, the Durango
slipped out of warp and entered a steep orbit of the gas giant. Disruptors and
plasma torpedoes flashed behind them as the Romulans dropped out of warp in
pursuit. "Maximum impulse!" Kapact shouted. "Take us in!"
The Durango quickly dove into the
crushing morass of Lambda Hydrae Six.
As
soon as Kapact felt the difference in the ship; the motion of it through space,
the thrumming of the engines beneath the deckplates, and now, the unsettling
sound of crushing pressure on the outer hull, he knew they were fully inside
the gas giant. A quick evasive move, out of sight or sensor resolution of the
Romulans, and the disruptor bolts vanished, and the plasma torpedo dissipated
harmlessly. "Come about, one hundred and eighty degrees." Kapact
ordered. "Then full stop. All available power to scanners."
A
beep from the tactical station almost made Kapact jump. "Weapons
ready," M'rel muttered.
Seconds
later, the viewscreen wavered. In the red/orange sea that was the interior of
Lambda Hydrae Six, interference threatened to obscure their view. Then a thin,
silver shape appeared. "M'rel. Manual target. Fire when ready."
Disruptors
flashed towards the Romulan, spitting harmlessly to the side at first, but then
on target. Once they were on target, M'rel fired two photon torpedoes. The
unprotected Romulan hull was shredded, and finally collapsed under the gas
giant's immense pressure. Then the second Snipe appeared, firing disruptors as
the Durango slipped to the side.
Kapact
felt the ship shudder as he held on to a support beam. "Damage
report."
M'rel
was already on the comm. "Glancing blow to our port nacelle. No structural
damage, but warp capacity is down."
"We
won't need it in here," Kapact said. "Set course for the far side of
the planet. Prepare two antimatter mines." He knew they had to run now.
Honor—never running from the enemy, would have to wait. But as the Durango pushed further and further into
the gas giant, and the already strained hull of the ship began to creak and
groan in protest, Kapact entertained the notion that they might never make it
out the other side.
Thirty
minutes later, the science station exploded. M'rel growled, swore, then
reported. "Hull pressure reaching critical. Sensors grids destroyed!"
"Helm,
maintain course. M'rel, fire two photon torpedoes aft!"
"We
are blind. I cannot target!"
Kapact
turned savagely to his friend. "We are being pursued! Fire torpedoes, or
stand aside!" There was no time for discussion. He only hoped the Romulan
would be close behind them. He hit the comm panel next to him.
"Engineering! Deploy combat engineers to the sensor dome." Inside of
this gas giant, he knew those engineers would not survive long on the hull.
Kapact
had spent six months working with combat engineers as part the special command
school that Chancellor Lorak had initiated, and he knew what his own engineers
would be doing. Suited up in a combat-rated pressure suit, a minimum of six
engineers would emerge from an access port near the center of the sensor grid
set into the hull. From there, five would move out in equidistant directions,
applying tempoary sensor filament as they moved out. After crawling for twenty
minutes, they would reach the end of the original net, and apply sealant. Then
the engineer in the center would laser-weld the filament to the sensor relay
set into the hull. Of course, the more lines of filament applied, the more
effective the sensor net. But in the middle of combat, in a gas giant, they
would be subject to stray fire from the Romulan, as well as pressure and
corrosion from the atmosphere. After fifteen minutes of exposure, the elements
would penetrate the suit and set to work on the warrior. So they were
sacrificing six warriors to restore minimal sensor ability.
During
those silent, deadly twenty minutes, Kapact pictured the warriors crawling
along the hull, feeling the pressure buffeting at them. It would threaten to
push them off the hull at the same time that it gradually crushed their
protective suits. There were no shields inside of the gas giant, and nothing
that Kapact or his crew could do to watch over or help them. All they could do
was wait. But then, with no fanfare, the main viewscreen lit up.
"The
Romulan!" M'rel cried, pointing at the screen. The thin, silver Snipe
warbird was looming in front of them.
Kapact
reacted instinctively, slapping the 'alpha strike' button built into his
command chair. That fired every weapon that was charged and within arc of the
current target. There was a flash of disruptors and torpedoes, and the Romulan
hull shattered. "How far are we from the other side of the planet?"
Kapact asked, after breathing a sigh of relief.
M'rel
moved quickly to the science station. "Five minutes."
"Proceed.
Pre—" A proximity alarm interrupted him.
"Small
craft just ahead," M'rel reported. "Vulcan configuration."
"Vulcan?"
Kapact's lips curled back. "Military?"
"No."
M'rel was struggling to scan the ship with jury-rigged sensors and through
massive interference. "Civilian craft. It is damaged."
"Approach
it. Concentrated scan." Kapact had no interest in Vulcan civilian ships,
but he hated mysteries.
A
few minutes later, the graceful shape of a Vulcan civilian craft came into
view. Kapact could see points on the forward edge of the hull that seemed to
have been hammered in. One of the two warp nacelles was crushed, while the
other seemed to be undamaged. The hull had more areas damaged than not.
"My lord," M'rel said breathlessly, "one life reading. Very
faint."
"Beam
the craft into the cargo bay." That life reading was important. His heart
told him that.
A
few minutes later, the Durango was
approaching the edge of the gas giant. While M'rel commanded the ship, Kapact
examined the hull of the Vulcan ship with a science team. "Scan this
ship," he ordered. "I want to know what happened to it."
His
scientists needed only a moment to scan it. "My lord, this ship bears
traces of a Federation transporter."
"What?"
He stared at it, aware that there was a Vulcan clinging to life within it.
"Is it safe?" As soon as the scientist nodded to him, he moved to the
rear hatch. A quick attempt at the controls yielded no results, so Kapact set
at it with a laser. It opened seconds later.
He
entered the rear of the shuttle and was immediately assaulted with the smell of
dead plant-eaters. His tricorder picked up the lifesign an instant later, and
he moved quickly past bleeding Vulcans and overloaded circuitry to the forward
cabin. There, a young-looking Vulcan male lay, half sprawled in a seat. His
chest heaved, and green blood escaped from many wounds. Kapact moved quickly,
placing his ear directly over the Vulcan's mouth. There was a heaving,
spluttering cough, and one word escaped in a desperate, perhaps dying gasp.
"Sarek."
The
Vulcan youth was dead.
Kapact
knew that the dying words of the alien corpse made for a potentially explosive
situation on his ship, and he knew that his position as captain was by no means
secure if some ambitious officer had been eavesdropping on him (which happened
everywhere on a Klingon in this time of tension and cold war) and saw an
opportunity to unseat him. Indeed, he had earned his command by killing his
drunken, traitorous commanding officer. So he contacted M'rel from the bloody
solitude of the Vulcan craft. "My friend, you will join me in this
craft." He paused. "Tell no one."
Five
minutes later, M'rel entered the craft to find Kapact sitting in the aft
section, surrounded by several dead Vulcans. His lips curled back. "Did
you kill them?"
"What?"
Kapact's hand moved of its own accord to his d'k tagh.
M'rel
laughed loudly. "You have no joy in your heart, son of Ab'Qaff. I was
joking. So what is your secret?"
Kapact
rose. "Follow me." Then he led M'rel to the forward section.
When
Kapact indicated the body of the Vulcan youth, M'rel glanced at it quickly.
"So what? Another dead Vulcan."
"His
last word was 'Sarek'."
"The
Vulcan ambassador to the Federation."
"Do
you remember the stories of Klaang, and the human, Jonathon Archer?"
Kapact knew well enough. His grandfather had led the council at the time.
M'rel's
eyes narrowed, and he indicated the dead Vulcan. "You want to return that to Vulcan."
"The
Vulcans would have allowed Klaang to die!" It was an old argument that
Kapact sometimes maintained for the sake of his family line.
"And
we would have gone to war."
"So
what? We fight to enrich our spirit. And that which does not kill us makes us
stronger." It was, Kapact admitted, what he was supposed to say, because
he was the captain, and because he was of noble blood. But he also believed it.
M'rel
considered pressing the argument, to bait his friend, but let it go. "I
will support you, my brother."
Kapact
relaxed, finally, and smiled. "It will not be easy. Even our cloak will not
get us safely to Vulcan, and the council, such as it is now, will not permit
any direct contact with a Federation member." He considered the problem
for a moment. "I must contact a friend."
"Why
should we?" Chang seemed dumbfounded by Kapact's request. "You of all
people should feel no obligation to help a member of the Federation. Your
father—"
"—was
not killed by Vulcans!" The V'ger incident was still fresh in Kapact's
mind. "I have come to you out of respect and friendship!"
"As
your friend," Chang was clearly surprised at Kapact for reacting angrily
to what he saw as common sense, "I am telling you that you owe nothing to
the people who killed your father!" He saw Kapact begin to react, and he
interrupted him. "If you didn't want to hear the truth, you should have
gone somewhere else. Now I'll make it easy for you, Captain. You are ordered to dump the bodies and bring the ship to
me."
"No."
The word came out of Kapact's mouth easily. Then, when it was too late to
withdraw it, he felt his breath catch. "More than a hundred years ago, the
Vulcans tried to honor us enough to allow Klaang to die with honor. We owe
them."
"Do
you think they'll care? Do you honestly believe it'll make a difference?"
Chang's eyes narrowed. "And is it worth throwing away your career? Because
that's what it means. You might salvage your family name, but you'll never
command again."
"I
don't care if the Vulcans appreciate it, or if it makes a difference for the
Empire," Kapact answered. "I'm not doing it for them. I'm doing it
because it's the right thing to do. And if you want a benefit for the Empire,
just remember, we'll be doing a favor for the Vulcan ambassador to the
Federation."
"So
what?" Chang asked.
"The
Vulcan ambassador who is behind a covert peace initiative with certain members
of the council." That was Kapact's own bit of eavesdropping. His secret
weapon.
"Gorkon."
Chang's best friend was also his biggest problem. "He wouldn't dare. It's
treason."
"I
didn't say who it was. It could be Melkor."
"You're
playing a dangerous game, Captain." Chang had always known that Kapact was
an excellent tactician. Now he knew just how ruthless the young captain could
be.
"Will
you help me?"
Chang
pursed his lips and glared. "You tell me who it was, and I'll support you."
"I'm
sorry, General." Kapact truly regretted telling him. "It's
Gorkon."
"You've
just cost me a friendship, Kapact. I'll have to kill him, before he destroys us
all." Then Chang smiled. "But that's for another day. Meet me in the
Xol system. I think I know who can help us."
In the Xol
System...
Kapact
somehow expected Chang's ship, the VodleH (Emperor) Class IKV jaghvo' nob ('Gift
from the Enemy') to look different from others, but it was indistinguishable
from every other VodleH Class he'd seen. It made sense, though. Chang was a
soldier, first and foremost, and he had no patience for the kind of elite,
connected, and politically powerful warship commanders that made up the bulk of
the defense force. That much was evident even from the "IKV" prefix,
that designated it as an Imperial Navy ship, as opposed to the "IKC"
that preceeded ships belonging to and ruled by Council members, and the
"IKS" ships, privately commanded by elite members of the Admiralty. Chang fought alongside the common soldier,
and he always would.
"Signal
coming in," M'rel reported, breaking Kapact's reverie.
Kapact
nodded curtly, and the image of the jaghvo'
nob vanished to be replaced by Chang's stern face. "Captain Kapact,
I'm transmitting coordinates. Beam down alone. I'll expect to see you in five
minutes." The signal was cut before Kapact could respond.
"You
have the bridge." Kapact glanced briefly at M'rel and left the bridge
quickly. Chang was angry enough. It wouldn't do to be late.
When
he materialized on the bleak surface of Xol 3, Chang was waiting for him, with
a large chronometer in his hand. "Punctual. Good." Chang replaced the
device on his belt. "M'rel will be contacting you shortly. Tell him not to
worry."
"Why
will he—?" Kapact was asking when his communicator chirped angrily.
"Report!"
"My
lord, a Bertaa' Class battlecruiser has decloaked in orbit. It has refused to
answer hails."
Kapact
glanced quickly at Chang, who shook his head sharply. "Do not attempt to
contact them again," Kapact ordered. "Maintain communications
silence. I'll contact you when I need you again." He closed the
communicator.
"This
shouldn't take too long," Chang said.
The
sudden appearance of two red transport beams drew their attention. Kapact recognized
the Klingon as Kruge, the head of Imperial Intelligence, and rumored to be in
line to replace the dead and unlamented Lord Wej'pu as Fleet Lord. The figure
next to him, however, was a mystery. A tall, lanky figure cloaked in dark
robes, with a large hood shrouding his face in shadow. Without a word, hands
reached up to pull the hood back.
"A
Romulan?" Kapact could not hide his surprise.
"I
am not a Romulan." The answer came in the stiff monotone that Kapact
recognized immediately as Vulcan.
Kruge
turned his hawk-like gaze to Kapact. "Why do you want to go to
Vulcan?"
Before
Kapact could answer, Chang stepped between them. "Before we go any
further, Kruge, you'd better tell me who this is." He turned a distasteful
eye to the Vulcan. "This was supposed to be a private matter."
Kruge
gave Kapact one more lingering glance before answering Chang. "General
Chang, meet Marek. The head of Vulcan Intelligence." Marek's eyebrows
climbed, but Kruge just slapped him on the back and laughed. "I knew who
you were five years ago, Marek. Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."
Then he turned to Chang. "Marek has been working with me to uncover secret
peace negotiations between a Vulcan diplomat and the Empire."
"An
unauthorized initiative," Marek said simply.
"Why
would a Vulcan oppose peace negotiations?" For Kapact, it was equal parts
suspicion and curiosity.
"I
do not." Marek sounded like a computer. "But the Vulcan government
cannot allow unilateral, personal initiatives. What the humans call 'cowboy diplomacy'."
His gaze seemed to drill into Kapact. "We suspect Sarek, but we have yet
to determine his contact within the Empire."
USS Tsar
Nicholas
Akula Class
Destroyer NCC-517
along the
Klingon/Federation border...
Captain
Katarina Romanova watched the blue-green orb of Sherman's Planet slowly rotate
on the viewscreen and took pains to keep herself from pacing around the small
bridge, but apparently her tension was palpable to K'tan, her Skorr helm
officer. Huge wings, normally carefully tucked behind the lieutenant, suddenly
unfurled and fluttered noisily. "K'tan!" She almost jumped out of her
chair.
K'tan
turned around, pointing his long, sharp beak at her. "Forgive me, Captain.
You're nervous. It's upsetting."
"I
don't like this any more than you do," she said, "but you need to
keep those wings down." Then she smiled. "I'll take you hunting in
Siberia on the next shore leave." What she and the crew were losing
patience with was an order that had pulled them from a regular patrol of the
Triangle Zone to pick up a Vulcan agricultural attache at Sherman's Planet and
deliver him to Vulcan ASAP.
"Captain,"
the communications officer, Lt Commander Curran reported, "there is a
coded signal from the surface. For your eyes only."
"Acknowledge
the signal," she said as she rose. "I'll take it in the briefing
room." Then she left the bridge via a side exit.
The
USS Tsar Nicholas's only briefing
room was a small room located just off the main bridge that doubled as an
office for Captain Romanova. She crossed quickly behind the desk and activated
the comm unit. A small monitor lit up, filled with non-sensicle colored pixels.
"Romanova Alpha-Seven-Echo. Code Tovaritch." At that, the screen
cleared to show Admiral Mpuria. "Hello, Admiral." Romanova had dealt
with the african admiral frequently as part of the Neutral Zone task force.
"What can I do for you?"
"Captain,
the gentlemen you're here to pick up will require special handling."
"Gentlemen?
Admiral, I understood that I was to pick up the Vulcan agricultural
attache."
"Not
exactly. There are two people beaming up. Before you beam them up, you are to
clear all personnel on all decks between the transporter room and their guest
quarters. You are not to engage them in conversation, nor are they to be seen
by any members of your crew."
Romanova
tried to sound nonplussed. "Anything else?"
Mpuria
smiled. "As a matter of fact there is. There is to be no record of this
conversation. No visual logs of any kind will be recorded of your guests, and
for the duration of their stay outside communication is to be restricted."
Romanova
pursed her lips in a fashion that could break hearts if properly applied.
"If my ship and crew is to be endangered, I want to know who it is."
Mpuria
smiled a broad, white smile. "You'll know, when you see them. But this has
to be kept secret, Katarina. Potentially millions of lives are at stake."
She
smiled at that. As part of the Federation's first line of defense from the
Klingons and the Romulans, she was used to being on the edge of intergalactic
brinkmanship. "That we do every day before lunch."
She
was alone in the transporter room ten minutes later. Commander Shran, a
descendant of the Andorian Imperial Guard commander that assisted the Humans
over one hundred years ago, had the bridge, and the crew had been restricted as
per orders. She had even found two available and adjoining VIP quarters fairly
close to the transporter room. "Transport control, this is Captain
Romanova. Standing by to energize."
"We
will conduct the transport, Captain. Please open your system, and stand
by."
Romanova
raised an aristocratic eyebrow and opened up the transporter system. "Go
ahead." It made perfect sense to her. No coordinates to give away. No
permanent transport records. When, seconds later, two people materialized a few
feet in front of her, she gasped, and her mouth hung open. Despite orders not
to engage them in conversation, she spoke without thinking. "Sarek.
Gorkon."
Sarek
leveled a stern gaze at her, and Gorkon looked vulnerable. They both looked
expectant.
Finally,
she found her command voice and forged ahead. "Forgive me, gentlemen. If
you'll please follow me to your quarters." She gestured toward the door.
"I've cleared the deck for you." She saw Sarek nod to Gorkon and lead
him off of the platform, and the two followed her to the door.
The
empty corridor made Romanova uneasy. This was her home. Her family. It was
normally bustling with activity, and she didn't like anything that disrupted
that. But it had happened, and like any good Russian girl, she would push
through it. A moment later, she was opening the door to Sarek's quarters. After
allowing the two to enter, she followed them in. She moved quickly to the adjoining
door. She opened that door and waved them through. Then she produced a
communicator. "If you wish to contact me, this is preset to a private,
scrambled frequency that only goes to me. It is untracable, and cannot be
detected outside of the ship. Otherwise, I won't contact you until we reach
Vulcan."
Both
men looked at her severely. Gorkon spoke in a surprisingly cultured voice.
"Thank you, Captain."
"You
will leave us now," Sarek said.
When
Romanova had gone, Gorkon spoke first. "This is dangerous."
"It
is necessary and logical," Sarek answered. "My brother is missing. I
must see to family affairs immediately, and we cannot afford to cease our
efforts while I am gone. Logic dictates that you accompany me. In any case, you
cannot wait for me on Sherman's Planet."
On
board Kruge's Bertaa', Kapact waited uneasily in a briefing room as the sounds
of Chang and Kruge arguing in a side office permeated the bulkheads. Marek, who
was seated opposite Kapact at the table, raised one eyebrow in distaste.
"Tell me, before they return, why you want to go to Vulcan."
"As
a matter of honor," Kapact said simply.
"Klingon
honor is something often noted in the breach, rather than the observance. It is
not something upon which to place blind trust." He seemed to be trying to
assess Kapact. "So I ask you again. Why Vulcan?"
Kapact
knew he would have to say it eventually, and he didn't want Kruge to hear it.
"I found a Vulcan ship where it shouldn't have been." Then he
explained, in exacting detail, the circumstances under which he'd discovered
the Vulcan civilian craft, and the traces of a Federation transporter
signature.
Marek
looked as shocked as a Vulcan could. "Why would a Klingon warrior of noble
descent care about a Vulcan corpse? Did your ancestor Sompek worry about the
innocent children of Tong'Ve?"
"Sompek
was a hero!" Kapact snarled. "He was killing a city of traitors and
avenging his murdered mate." Kapact knew the story well. "But this
has nothing to do with Sompek. It has to do with Klaang, and Jonathon
Archer."
"Jonathon
Archer is widely regarded as a hero. Returning Klaang to Qo'noS prevented a
Klingon civil war."
"And
dishonored Klaang and my grandfather." Kapact was tired of the argument.
"These Vulcans died far from home. One of them mentioned Sarek. I just
want to take them home."
"And
you have no desire to spy while you are there?"
"If
I wanted to spy on you, I wouldn't be talking to you. Klingons are not that
subtle."
"Perhaps."
Marek seemed to dismiss Kapact and his arguments. "In any case, you will
not be allowed to go to Vulcan."
"What?"
That was when Kruge and Chang returned. Kapact saw that Kruge was furious, with
a deep cut over one eye. Chang looked exerted, but satisfied. But Kapact didn't
care what had happened. "We're wasting our time!" he shouted as he
rose. "I should have known better than to talk to a Vulcan!" Then he
pulled out his communicator. "M'rel. Energize!"
Ten
minutes later, Chang and Kruge had followed Kapact onto the Durango. They met with him in his
quarters. "Forget about Marek," Chang was saying. "There's
another way. But your trip to Vulcan is going to be an expensive one. I hope
it's worth it."
Kruge
didn't seem to be paying attention. He picked up and carelessly put down
Kapact's statue of Kahless, "I wouldn't take you for a cultist, Kapact. Do
you really believe that he climbed a volcano, and forged the first bat'leth with a lock of his own
hair?" He picked up the statue of The Two Brothers (Kahless and Morath)
Fighting. "Or that he fought Morath for twelve days and twelve nights over
a lie?"
Kapact
tore the statue from Kruge's grasp and set it carefully where it belonged.
"I don't have to believe in him anymore than I have to believe in the
ground, or the stars or the air we breath. It is there. We would not exist
otherwise. Do you believe we would have survived this long without killing
ourselves without a hero such as Kahless? You are the cultist. The fool."
"Careful,"
Chang warned him quietly.
"It
doesn't matter," Kruge answered. "I can tell you, though. Your father
wouldn't have approved." He reached up to touch the blood above his eye.
It was still wet. "General Chang convinced me of the need to use...
unconventional means to get you and your cargo to Vulcan. But it's going to
cost you."
"Cost
me what?"
"Your
name," Kruge answered. "Your career. You'll still have your honor, by
your skewed definition. What else matters?"
Kapact's
d'k tagh flew into his hands, and he
saw it clawing into Kruge's belly. Sheer force of will stopped him from doing
it. Kruge was too important, and too dangerous to be killed outright.
"What unconventional means?" He truly felt he was making a deal with
the devil. And much as it went against his instincts, he put the d'k tagh away.
USS Tsar
Nicholas
Akula Class
Destroyer NCC-517
Undisclosed
location in Federation space...
Captain
Katarina Romanova stood quietly on the bridge while First Officer Shran and Lieutenant
K'tan watched their course. They knew the ship was bound for Vulcan, and the
deafening silence from the 'agricultural attache' had set their imaginations to
work. Her own attention had been drawn to the dedication plaque, with its
enigmatic motto. "...Trust, But Verify..." Simple and seemingly
contradictory, the words aptly described the ship's mission, and added an
ironic counterpoint to the secret presence of Ambassador Sarek and the Klingon
High Council member Gorkon. She could guess that there were negotiations afoot,
but they seemed to be unofficial. That would have all made sense on Sherman's
Planet, which had become an unofficial meeting place for Klingon and Federation
personnel. But why they should be going to Vulcan, very nearly the heart of the
Federation, was incomprehensible, unless they were on the verge of a
breakthrough. And that led to her very strong feeling that somebody was
watching them. Whether that somebody was friend or foe was unclear. So she
wasn't surprised by the first hint of a shadow.
"Captain?"
Lt Commander Solaia, the Deltan science officer sounded unusually concerned.
Romanova
stepped quickly to the science station, pushing through, at the same time,
waves of attraction and sensuality that the Deltan man naturally exuded.
"What is it?"
"A
tachyon shift at the edge of sensor range. We were skirting the edge of Son'a
space, and the nearby nebula can give off those readings."
"But?"
"It
disappeared when I directed a scan at it. It disappeared abruptly, like someone
flipping a switch."
Romanova
thought about it quickly, considering and dismissing several options.
"Keep an eye on it, Solaia. Extend scanning range and sensitivity however
you have to, and keep me abreast of any more strange readings." At that
point she was tempted to advise Sarek and Gorkon, but she decided not to. Not
only had she been ordered to leave them alone, she'd also been advised by Admiral Mpuria to pretend
they weren't there, and Captain Romanova would take an advisement over an order
any day. And anyway, it could be a coincidence.
Six
hours later, Solaia called her back to the science station. "Something
new, Captain."
She
was there almost instantly. "What is it?"
"Something
more definite," he said as he looked up from the hooded viewer. "Have
a look."
She
bent down to gaze into the viewer and saw a representation of scanning waves
being directed from the ship in all directions. There seemed to be nothing
unusual. "So what?"
She
felt his breath, hot on her neck... or so it seemed. In fact, it probably
wasn't. "Now watch this."
Suddenly
the beams doubled in length and intensity, and something, like a washback of
interference was visible over all edges of the screen for an instant, before
vanishing again. "What the hell is it?" she asked as she looked up at
Solaia.
"Somebody
following us and watching us."
Romanova
swore in Russian. "Right. K'tan, all stop. Commander Curran, open hailing
frequencies. All frequency. Wide beam transmission."
"Go
ahead."
"This
is Captain Katarina Romanova of the Federation starship Tsar Nicholas. I am aware that you are monitoring our progress. You
will identify yourself. Failure to do so immediately may result in hostile
action. Respond."
The
first noise didn't come from the speakers. It came from the communicator she'd
coded to the one she'd given Sarek and Gorkon. But there wasn't time to answer
them. Then the viewscreen flickered, and for the second time in the last few
days, her jaw dropped open in shock. A Vulcan Starcruiser of a design not seen
in more than a hundred years decloaked just ahead of them.
Four Years
Ago...
Captain
Edward Forrester, of the Federation Class USS
Horatio Hornblower watched with
horror as six small ships materialized close to the first one that had appeared
over Delta Vega. The mothership was easily twice the size of his own
dreadnaught, and he could well imagine all six of the smaller ships fitting
inside, with room to spare. But how they could have simply materialized was
beyond his imagination. You couldn't transport an entire ship...
Two
days later, the USS Sidney Reilly was
flying through a debris field that had once been the Horatio Hornblower. The captain, who wore a black jumpsuit instead
of the standard starfleet uniform, spoke urgently into a secure comm channel.
"The device... a portal of some kind, as far as we can tell, is intact,
and protected by a shield that absorbs and is powered by every bit of phaser
energy we throw at it. All that's left of the Hornblower is debris and background radiation."
"I
don't want even that left when you're finished. Transport the debris aboard.
All of it, Captain. Then use metryon sweeps to clear out the radiation."
"Yes,
Mister Sloane."
The
subsequent investigation of the wreckage, as well as log tapes from a convoy
that encountered and managed to communicate with the invader a day later led to
startling information. That information was disseminated to an unlikely group
in an underground bunker on Sherman's Planet.
"Ladies
and gentlemen and... others," Sloane fixed a hard glance at the Tholian
representative, sitting awkwardly in its box-shaped environmental suit,
"welcome to Sherman's Planet."
"What
are they doing here?" Kruge was looking at representatives of the Tholian,
Romulan, and Gorn intelligence agencies.
"We're
all here because of a threat from outside of our galaxy. A threat that none of
us can face on our own." He thought about the secrets he was about to
share. "And information I would rather keep a secret between us."
Sloan then produced several pieces of paper. "What you have in front of
you represents a war that we need to fight without our governments finding
out."
That
paper document contained the following tactical assessment:
The invading ships are from
the Andromeda Galaxy. They appeared in a portal just over the mining colony
Delta Vega. Despite initial assumptions, they are not Kelvans. Whether or not
they conquered the Kelvans is unclear, although it is possible. Andromedan
"motherships" carry smaller (destroyer size and smaller)
"satellite ships" inside of "hangar bays". Their ships do
not have shields, instead, they have "Power Absorber Panels" which
absorb damage and convert it to energy that they then use to supplement their
own power supply. Their heavy weapon is the "Tractor-Replusor Beam";
a weapon that grabs a ship and rapidly tractors and repels it, literally
shaking the target to pieces. The Andromedans also posses the
"Displacement Device", which allows them to teleport their own ships
or enemy ships.
Sloane
waited until they'd all read it, then he continued. "The threat we face is
two-fold. The obvious danger of being conquered by the Andromedans, firstly.
This isn't just a threat to the Federation. It's a threat to all of us.
Secondly, the kind of technology wielded by the enemy cannot be allowed to
enter the general inventory of any of our governments. The result would be a
galactic war. What we need to do is keep this war a secret."
"Nonsense,"
the female head of the Tal Shiar said. "How can you wage a secret
war?"
Kruge
laughed derisively. "That's how you fight them, isn't it? Why send a fleet
when you can assassinate an ambassador?"
"I
think we all understand each other," Sloane interjected. "And I think
we also understand that each of us has access to—how shall we say—privately
funded fleets. And as for keeping it secret, my own planet's Eugenics Wars were
fought during the last years of the twentieth century, and partly thanks to an
ancestor of mine, the general populace had no idea at the time. If we
cooperate, this war can be just as secret."
"And
what if someone finds out?" the Tholian asked through a translation
device.
"We've
already sacrificed ships to keep this secret," Sloane answered. "We
can't be afraid to sacrifice more."
"Kill
anyone who finds out," Kruge commented. "That's what he means."
The big Klingon looked around suddenly, and his nostrils flared. "I smell
a plant-eater. What are the Vulcans doing here?"
Marek
immediately stepped out from behind a curtain. "Because we have an
interest in keeping the peace. And we have assets to contribute."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Seconds
after it decloaked, the massive Vulcan Starcruiser fired photon torpedoes at
the Tsar Nicholas. "What the
hell?" Captain Romanova swore. "Ship to ship!"
Lt
Commander Curran tried again. "Still no response."
"I'd
say," Commander Shran said as he took his seat, "that we've seen
their response."
Romanova
curled her lip in distaste at Shran's comment. The CMO, Doctor Gabriella
Scratiatella had determined that the Andorian, like so many of his species,
seemed to have a hyperactive sarcasm gland. The captain agreed, but valued
Shran enough as an XO to put up with it.
"Spasiba. I don't care what kind of ship
it is. They can't do that." She turned to the helm
officer. "K'tan, attack pattern omega. Target shield
generators." She moved behind him, resisting the urge to put her hand on
his muscled shoulder. She wanted to be where he was, protecting first-hand her
ship and crew.
But
suddenly she knew something had happened. She felt sick to her stomach, like
she had the first time she'd been through a transporter. K'tan's wings had
spread to their full two meter wingspan, and the Skorr screeched what she knew
to be a war cry. "Hold it," Romanova ordered. "Solaia,
report."
"Captain,
we're not where we're supposed to be. Neither is the Vulcan. We—" he
paused to double check his readings. "Captain, we've just been transported
five hundred thousand kilometers."
"Transported?
That's impossible!"
"Confirmed,"
Solaia replied. "I'm reading matter stream residue along the path from our
previous position, and a scan of our hull shows a Federation transport
signature."
"Explanation?"
"Captain,"
Shran whispered, "the Vulcans..."
She
swore in Russian yet again. "Intercept course. Full impulse. Lock all
weapons." Then she turned to Curran. "Open a secure channel to
Admiral Mpuria. Someone has to know this happened."
"Aye,
Captain."
An
instant later, Mpuria appeared on the screen. "What is it, Katarina?"
"I'm
sending you sensor logs, Admiral. Someone is trying to stop me from delivering
my passengers."
"Received,
Captain. Your passengers have to make it through. Whatever it takes. I'll try
to send help." Mpuria cut the channel abruptly.
"Okay."
Romanova huffed. "Set a course away from the Vulcan. Maximum warp."
Then she tapped the comm switch on the arm her chair. "Engineering.
Respond, Mister Norman."
"Aye,
Captain?" Norman's voice was as calm as always.
"Emergency
warp, Mister. Until I say stop." She cut the channel. "Go, K'tan.
Maximum warp." As the ship leaped forward, the private communications
channel that would Sarek beeped again. "Not now!" Then she was thrown
to the deck as the Starcruiser materialized in their path. The Tsar Nicholas slammed to starboard as
K'tan wrenched at the controls. She could hear and feel the hull groaning and
pitching underneath her, and she was thrown forward. K'tan stretched one wing to
try to stop her, but she slid past him, finally slamming into the viewscreen.
With
a supreme effort, Katarina Romanova stood, bracing herself against the helm
station. "Evasive course. We need to get away."
"Captain,"
Shran pleaded. "We can destroy them."
"We
have our orders, Commander. Do you understand?" She could, when she had
to, use an iron fist on anyone who needed it. "If you can't, you're off my
ship!"
"Acknowledged,"
Shran answered reluctantly.
"Good.
K'tan, get us out of here." She realized, with a deep gasp, that she'd
stopped breathing. The Tsar Nicholas
swerved away from the looming Starcruiser and began to weave drunkenly away.
Then
it was grabbed again. Romanova was thrown backwards, finally crashing awkwardly
into her command chair. "What was that?"
"Tractor-repulsor
beam," Solaia replied. "They've got us, and they're shaking us
apart!"
She
decided that they were doomed now. She wanted to somehow get to Sarek and
Gorkon, but she couldn't leave the bridge, and noone else could be trusted to
even see them. No one. So all she could do now was to destroy the Vulcan and
hope Mpuria could stop the war that she felt certain she was starting. Deep,
sad thoughts flew through her head. Her husband, Vladimir Markovich on the USS John F Kennedy... and Sarek. Did he
have a wife? Did Gorkon? Would they know what had happened? Would they someday
learn to hate her name? Those thoughts came and went in a second. Then she gave
the order. "Intercept course. Warp speed on my mark." She took a deep
breath. "Three." Shran's antennae were fully forward with excitement.
"Two." K'tan's wings fully extended, and she didn't say a word this
time. Her mouth opened to finish the countdown, but suddenly the viewscreen was
full of... a Romulan Bird of Prey. Similar to the old Snipe that had almost
started a war by destroying Earth outposts along the nuetral zone, only larger,
sleeker, and more menacing. It turned smartly on one wing and stopped the
Starcruiser with a plasma torpedo.
For
the third time in less than a week, her mouth hung open stupidly. "Contact
the Romulan."
"They
aren't answering hails."
She
stifled another curse, and considered turning tail and leaving the area while
she could. Mpuria would tell her to do just that. But she wasn't about to run from
a fight that someone—even a Romulan—had pulled her out of. Common sense and
orders weren't always the right choice. "Plot a circular course, K'tan. I
want to end up behind that Vulcan."
Kapact
had one hand around Kruge's neck, and the other holding a disruptor shoved
between Kruge's teeth.
"I'll
destroy you," Kruge managed to say.
"He
will," Chang agreed. "Even if you manage to kill him, someone will
show up one day, and slip a qut'luch
between your ribs."
Kapact
gritted his teeth and considered what he'd heard. He was willing to die to get
the Vulcans home... but he still had a mother who had much to lose with a dead
and dishonored son. And he had no son to continue the Abukoff line. So he
finally dropped Kruge to the deck. "You have no honor, and no more
secrets." He pushed past startled officers to the comm panel.
"Don't
be a fool." The words came simultaneously from Chang and Kruge.
He
barely glanced at them as he opened a channel. "Federation starship, this
is Captain Kapact."
Romanova
couldn't believe her ears. "What are you doing in a Romulan ship this deep
in Federation space?"
"I
need to speak to you, Captain. In private."
Romanova
moved forward to stand directly in front of the viewscreen. "In case you
hadn't noticed, there's a Vulcan ship out there that poses a threat to both of
us."
"Prepare
to merge transmissions," Kapact said.
Seconds
later, another image appeared on the screen, next to Kapact. This was of a
tall, thin man in a black jumpsuit.
"Mister
Sloane!" Romanova knew him from regular Intel lectures at Starfleet
Command. "What the hell are you doing here? I'd heard you died. Some kind
of transporter accident."
"That
was my father," Sloane answered calmly. "A tragic accident. Much the same
that's going to happen to you and Captain Kapact momentarily. But first I need
you to turn over Ambassador Sarek and Gorkon."
"Sarek?"
Kapact asked.
"Gorkon?"
Chang added.
"Didn't
you know?" Sloane asked. "They're conspiring against both the Federation
and the Empire."
"I
know your secrets, Sloane," Kapact countered. "All of them. Every bit
of intelligence on the Andromedans."
Kruge
chose that moment to spit a mouthful of broken and bloody teeth at Kapact.
"You're finished. Dead."
"Maybe.
But the secret war is no longer secret." Pushing another button, Kapact
transmitted an audio recording of the confession he'd beaten out of Kruge. It
detailed everything from the discovery of the portal, to initial battles using
secret fleets from every major race's intelligence agency, and finally to a
battle less than six months ago that saw the unlikely allies destroying the
main Andromedan base of operations located in the Lesser Magellanic Cloud.
Kapact finally explained that the stolen Romulan ship they were in had been
fitted, as had the Vulcan Starcruiser, with every bit of Andromedan technology
they had.
"Close,"
Sloane said. "But not quite." The Starcruiser vanished.
"He's
cloaked," Romanova said.
"Not
just cloaked," Kruge explained. "Phase cloaked. You'll never find him
now."
Kapact
glared at Kruge briefly, then turned to Romanova. "Captain, I need to
speak with Sarek."
"I
can't allow it," she answered. "His presence here—"
"—is
no longer a secret," Kapact argued. "Give him a message for me. If he
refuses to see me, I'll leave in peace."
"Just
a minute." She sent the signal to her office, and left the bridge. Once
she was in the office, she continued. "What is your message?"
"Tell
him I found a Vulcan civilian craft that had been transported inside a gas
giant in the Lambda Hydrae system. I suspect it was accidentally caught in a
covert experiment of an Andromedan displacement device. Inside of the craft, a
dying Vulcan's last word was 'Sarek'. I am bringing the bodies home."
Kapact felt that he was being relieved of a great burden, but also that he was
taking a terrible risk. Until now, he had trusted the bodies to no one. Now he
was trusting a human.
This
made everything else Romanova had heard sound boring. "Wait. I'll contact
him."
A
full hour passed before Kapact had the remains of the Vulcan ship, as well as
the stasis-held bodies before him in the cargo bay of the Tsar Nicholas. Sarek was with him, staring at the battered ship and
the small chambers alongside of it. The Vulcan was silent.
"Ambassador,
I don't care for politics, and I do not trust politicians. My family has always
appreciated the Vulcans, even if we do not fully understand them. But I owed
you this."
"That
is illogical. You cannot 'owe me' anything."
"The
Vulcans respected the Empire when Klaang was dying on Earth. They understood
why it was better to let him die than return him weak and in disgrace."
"That
does not infer a debt." Sarek seemed to be trying to understand the
passionate young Klingon.
"It
was the right thing to do." Kapact couldn't expain it better than that.
"Despite
the cost to you?" When Kapact nodded, Sarek moved to examine the stasis
boxes, and the covered bodies within. "My brother Silek, and his
family."
On board
Kruge's Bertaa', orbiting Qo'noS...
"I
told you it would cost you," Chang muttered glumly. "Where are your
friends now, hm? Where is Sarek? Off somewhere conspiring with Gorkon to
dismantle our Empire no doubt." But he was also waiting with Kapact for
the punishment. Chang had known him for years, since Kapact had been a young
lieutenant in the early days of the General War against the Federation and the
Hydran Kingdom. In that time, he had found Kapact to be impulsive and bull-headed
to a fault, but also as loyal and dedicated a warrior as he had ever met.
Someone to have at his side should things come to a head. "Don't count on
me to save you. I've got things to do on a larger scale that I can't accomplish
without a high position."
"I'n
not the only one who needs to be saved," Kapact answered. "Do you
realize what will become of the Empire if these Morath followers retain
control? We're doomed. Eventually we'll be conquered by the humans. Or worse,
we'll be—"
"Assimilated
by them," Chang finished for him. "Don't you think I know that? If
Gorkon, who sits very high on the council can be fool enough to negotiate with
them, what's to stop the slide?" Chang was listening to Kapact, but
thinking along a different track altogether. "Who will stand in their way?
I needed you, Kapact. Together we could have challenged them. Now that's over
with." Chang suddenly seemed very old. "If I can't stop Gorkon
politically, I'll have to kill him. And for all of his foolishness, he's a good
man. And he's my best friend."
"We
aren't going to save ourselves by killing good men, General." Kapact, as
always, didn't understand a political agenda that was served by killing good
men. "We need to rid ourselves of those who deny our very foundation. Then
we decide which direction to follow."
"That's
an excuse for not taking action." Chang rose menacingly. "What do you
know about making hard decisions? You've led a privileged life, son of Ab'Qaff.
Royal blood flows through your veins." Furious at Kapact for seemingly not
understanding, Chang was hurling insults like stones. "How old were you
before you got your hands dirty, or shed blood? How many good warriors have you
sacrificed for a good cause? Any? I doubt it. Otherwise you'd know what
sacrifice means! You'd understand what it means to have to kill your
best-!"
"Kill
him if you want," Kruge said as he walked into the briefing room.
"You'll be saving me the work."
Chang
sat, favoring Kapact with a soft expression. "Whatever dispute we have is
none of your concern."
"You're
right." Kruge dismissed Chang. "Kapact is guilty of treason, and
you're guilty too."
"What?"
Kapact and Chang rose and asked in unison.
"You
conspired with the traitor to expose state secrets." Kruge raised his
bushy eyebrows and smiled broadly. "And as leading members of a seditious
cult, you represent a clear danger to the Empire."
"Chang
never conspired to do anything," Kapact rumbled. "You can't possibly
believe that."
"It
doesn't matter what I believe. Marek tells me that Gorkon has returned to
Council without an agreement, so that isn't a problem anymore. And that means I
don't need you, Chang."
"You
can't do that," Kapact said.
"I
just did." Kruge seemed unconcerned as he looked at Chang. "Your
names will be disgraced, your houses dissolved and your holdings seized. And
then I'll round up the rest of the cultists."
"No."
The silent Klingon transporter hadn't given any warning that two people had
materialized behind them. Gorkon was the first to speak. "The council has
examined the intelligence reports on the Andromedan war, and has decided that
the charges of conspiracy are unfounded."
"But—?"
Kruge was furious and dumbfounded.
"It
is you who conspired to fight an unsanctioned war and share technology with the
enemies of the Empire. Your House will be subject to intense scrutiny."
Gorkon sounded quietly enraged. "There remains the question of Kapact's
covert mechanations to reach Vulcan."
"I
did it for a reason," Kapact objected.
"No
doubt. But you ignored the chain of command, and conspired to violate
interstellar law."
Sarek
spoke up at that point. "I petitioned the Federation council for
retroactive sanction, to no avail."
"I
have, however," Gorkon added, "successfully lobbied the council to
keep you off of Rura Penthe, and to retain your command." He gave Kruge a
hard look. "There remains only your—"
"That's
outrageous!" Kruge shouted as he rose. "He's a traitor and a
cultist!"
"And
you conspired with him of your own free will," Chang answered. "If
he's guilty, so are you." Kapact noted, with disappointment, that Chang
had distanced himself from the crime.
Then
the door opened, and the last surprise was there. "Mother?" Kapact
rose.
ValkrIS
glanced quickly at Kapact, communicating love and hurt and support in an
instant. "Commander Kruge, you've wanted me to work for you since before
Ab'Qaff was killed. You have influence on the council. You can spare his name
and career."
"ValkrIS,
you overestimate yourself," Kruge commented as he moved to her. "But
you are magnificent." He gazed at her with undisquised lust. “We would be
fantastic together. And think of how the Kruge genes could improve on that.” He sneered at Kapact.
At
that, Kapact finally lost his temper. He withdrew his d'k tagh and hit Kruge across the face with it's pommel.
"Defend yourself!"
It
was ValkrIS who pulled her son away. "Kapact, I won't let you destroy
yourself defending me. My life ended when my husband was killed. Our house is
now yours. Care for it well, or I'll take it back." With that, she stood
next to Kruge. "The matter is dropped?"
"The
matter is dropped," he answered her almost tenderly. Then he cast a deadly
gaze at Kapact. "Stay out of trouble, boy." He took ValkrIS by the
arm and led her from the room.
"She
just saved your life, you know," Chang said quietly. "All it cost her
was her own." Then he looked at Gorkon. "This business between us
isn't finished. You're the real conspirator." With that, he whipped out a
communicator. Seconds later, he vanished in a red, swirling transporter beam.
Finally,
Kapact was left alone with Sarek and Gorkon. He addressed Gorkon first. "I
told Chang what you were doing. I'm sorry. I have no grudge against you, but I
needed his help."
"Let
us hope that what you achieved is worth what it may cost us." Gorkon
sounded philosophical, but the anger and regret was obvious in his voice.
"I dare say I've lost a friend."
"What
Captain Kapact has demonstrated," Sarek commented, "is that friends
and enemies are not always what they seem, and do not always fit our
preconceptions. It will be necessary for me to cease negotiations with you,
Gorkon. But since logic demands that we work for peace, I will direct my son to
contact you. He is a capable diplomat."
"The
chimes at midnight," Gorkon muttered to himself. When he saw Kapact give
him a puzzled look, he explained. "Changes, Captain. Changes."
Epilogue
"Where
are they? Where are my sensor logs?" Romanova was furious.
"They're
being studied," Mpuria answered calmly.
"Where?
By whom? We were almost destroyed. Sarek and Gorkon almost killed. What if the
Klingons decide to use the technology?" She knew she was firing questions
faster than he could answer, but she didn't care. "How am I supposed to
defend against it if I can't—"
"The
data is being given our fullest attention, somewhere very, very
safe." His smooth voice drowned out
her objections.
At
that instant, an unmanned freighter carrying sensor logs and remains of a Vulcan
civilian ship was completing it's final voyage, being gradually drawn into a
black hole in a distant frontier of Federation space.
General Kapact, Epetai Abukoff
IKS tIQghoB
VodleH Class Heavy Battlecruiser, Black Fleet Variant
"...laughing, undefeated..."
Beslan BortaS
betleH pIn'a'
Ro
DoQ Vaj
http://www.angelfire.com/hero2/houseabukoff/
http://kapactsrant.blogspot.com/
http://startrekenterprisevirtualseasons.blogspot.com/
Founder, Klingon Order of Scribes
Kapact's Non-Trek Writing http://www.angelfire.com/hero/shadows0/
Kapact's Writing Groups:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/enterprisevirtualseasons/
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/StarWarsFFandRPG/
(Proud to Moderate)
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/FederationandEmpire/
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/klingonoccupationforce/
Klingon Black Fleet
Ballad of House Abukoff:
Yet if my line should die,
it dies with its teeth in the enemy's throat,
it dies with its name on the enemy's tongue.
For
just as mere life is not victory,
mere death is not defeat;
And in the next world I shall kill the foe a thousand times,
laughing,
undefeated.
(from John Ford's "The Final Reflection")