At long last...she's finished.
Lemme know what ya' think of the finished product as well as these last two parts. Been a long time coming, but I think I can be proud of 'er.
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The bridge was still in motion, more experienced personnel relieving the younger evening watch.
“Starfleet’s going to attack?” Ran’jar scoffed. He was clad in his uniform pants, the black turtleneck that was usually the first layer of the Klingon uniform.
“She’s slow charging her phaser reserves.” La’ra explained his suspicion. “Building up power quietly. And look at her heading.”
Ran’jar sat at his console, frowning. A button or two was pressed. The First’s frown deepened.
“Do you see it?” La’ra asked.
“She’s up to something…” Ran’jar grumbled.
“If she goes to full impulse…” La’ra grinned. “…she’s turned just enough her course will put us between her and the planet, well inside their optimum range.”
“All stations report alert status, Commander.” Someone announced.
“Good.” La’ra answered, turned back to the comm panel. Ran’jar was shaking his head.
“Uncharacteristic.” He growled.
The Commander nodded and turned toward the viewscreen. The Constantinople was framed there, looking bright and innocent.
“I underestimated him.” La’ra admitted.
“How so?”
“Starfleet talks endlessly about their morals…their laws.” La’ra quietly explained. “Yet here he is, supporting cowards, butchers. We’re doing the same, but our own government makes no pretensions of altruism.”
“You would rather not be supporting the Queen.” Ran’jar reminded.
“Indeed.” La’ra paused a second, continuing to study the Federation cruiser. “But there are advantages to it, if one looks for them. She is an unstable ruler. The Empire will not tolerate her for long, and any change we make will be toward…security. There’s some benefit for the Kelor in this, I think.”
“I was disappointed in our Starfleet friend and failed to realize he’s using similar logic.” La’ra continued. “He probably hates his ‘allies’ as much as I detest Heartreaver, but if he wins, his side gains a measure of control…they can make things here more…palatable.”
The First considered.
“Disappointed?” Ran’jar asked.
“I’ve been spoiled by Sharps, Kirks, and Bates.” Said La’ra. “They have a touch of Klingon in them, to back up their fragile ideals.”
“Those willing to break their own rules, disobey their orders, to find the perfect solution?”
La’ra nodded. “Yes. But here both our orders have…reason, behind them. And this prevents any perfect solution.”
“Like killing the Queen and installing a puppet government?”
“That does sound close to perfect.” La’ra grumbled.
The Klingons were quiet for a moment. Other officers called out the status of various systems. Bridge indicators hummed and whistled.
“If she gets into the position her Captain wants, she’ll have the advantage.” La’ra growled. Klingon ships used speed and turning ability to maximum advantage. Starfleet ships were clumsier, but if the Hiv’laposh were hemmed in by the planet, her edge would be dulled.
“We could shift our own orbit. If he attacks then, the fight will be even.”
“Yes…” La’ra let the word trail off into a hiss. “…and he might use the excuse to attack. Our friend isn’t stupid…he’s either going to arrange provocation or wait for us to provide it. We’ll have to be…friendly about it.”
“We haven’t made a report to Sector Command in over twelve hours. A higher orbit would allow a more secure transmission.” Ran’jar informed.
La’ra grinned. The expression was wide and in total earnest, something he hadn’t managed in days.
“What’s the helmsman’s name?” La’ra whispered.
Ran’jar rolled his eyes.
“Danok.”
La’ra nodded, moved toward the center of the bridge. On the viewscreen, the Constantinople still looked pastoral. He took another second to study it, then strolled toward the helm.
“Ensign Danok.” He said to the lanky Klingon who did the steering. “In just a moment, I’m going to order you to shift orbit. You’re going to do so in a manner that leaves up in an excellent position to break orbit and accelerate to full impulse. But I want you to make it a very…casual manuever. Not sloppy. Do you take my meaning.”
“Like we were heading to dump our garbage, sir?” Danok had a bushy goatee. It bobbled as he spoke.
“Yes.”
“Understood.” The helmsman affirmed. La’ra moved back to the command chair, activated the intercom. L’dar’s rumbling voice answered the summons.
“We may need to accelerate quickly to full impulse and cold start our shields. Be ready in two minutes.” La’ra instructed. He deactivated the link before his brother could protest; now wasn’t the time for argument. He was still grinning. “I think we’d better make our Federation friends aware of our intention. To avoid any possible misunderstanding. First?”
Ran’jar nodded once and pressed a button. There was a crackle from the overhead speakers.
“USS Constantinople.” La’ra began. “We are due to make a report to Sector Command. We are moving to a higher orbit for clearer communication. We will begin our maneuver momentarily.”
“Inform Kelor orbital control.” La’ra added. Ran’jar did so. Best for everyone to know what was going on, of course. The Commander waited a respectable amount of time.
“Now.” He said to Danok.
The old battlecruiser edged forward, pulling away from the planet in a long upward bank. There was no quiver in the deck, no lurch from churning impulse engines. La’ra watched his command indicator anyway, admiring the laziness of the course. Nearby, Leral’s eyes were locked on her console. Any moment she could yell a warning. La’ra would have a second at most to order full impulse, shields. Then the Hiv’laposh would pull into open space and engage her foe. Certain parts of La’ra’s soul wouldn’t mind that a bit.
“No change…” Leral called out. The shift was a third completed.
If the Constantinople was going to act, it’d be in the next few seconds, La’ra decided. His ship was superior to the Starfleet cruiser. The Federation captain had tactical sense. He’d attack now or not at all.
The Hiv’laposh climbed away from Kelor, settling into a high, comfortable orbit.
No attack came.
Topic: Fragile Ideals (Read 20713 times)