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“K’Tark is not answering our calls,” T’Sala said. “He says that he is composing an important document for transmission to the Klingon Empire and must not be disturbed. He adds that he will be more than happy to cooperate in any inquiry that you have as soon as he is finished.”
“Wonderful,” McDougal replied to the status update.
“No life readings on board that ship, sir,” Perkins quickly changed the subject. His hands danced across the panel like they were performing in a ballet, and at a speed that rivaled T’Sala’s. Cerberus had finally come to a complete stop close enough to scan the vessel without putting herself into real danger. “No power generation systems online, however, emergency power is operational and so is life support.” On the view screen, the larger ship tumbled slowly end over end, and gave its smaller guest a grand view of the giant eagle painted on its belly. “Reading no signs of warp capabilities, this ship was sublight only. The gravity in this sector is pulling on that ship in several directions simultaneously and almost equally; it should, however, drift eventually deeper into Federation, then Klingon space… If I continue a projected course, assuming no one stopped to move it, it should arrive in the WYN Star Cluster in about… three thousand years…”
“Two thousand, eight hundred, ninety-seven,” T’Sala corrected him. “Sir, we are reading no damage to the ship; it is possible that the crew starved to death or abandoned this ship before setting it adrift. There is no indication of any bodies on board, however that does not exclude the possibility of long term decomposition. I believe that we may be able to restore enough of its own power systems, as there is fuel available for its impulse drives.”
“And we can just as easily start it on the path we choose with a tractor beam and a push, lieutenant,” McDougal replied. He was more interested in the safety of his ship and crew, and yet his curiosity was pulling him toward the derelict.
“Sir,” Perkins spoke with cause and alarm, “universal translator has detected and translated the ship’s name. Closest match is… Sir that ship is named Cerberus!”
“Impossible!”
“Actually, it translates out to be ‘Dog of Hell That Has Three Heads’…” T’Sala interjected. “It does not seem to conform to typical naming strategies of the era.”
“Well,” McDougal said calmly. He folded his hands together and brought his index fingers to a point, which he brought to the tip of his nose. “I guess a further investigation is in order.” He poked blindly at the 1MC button on his chair. “XO to the bridge!”
“Bridge, XO,” she replied, “I’m on my way already…” the door to the lift swished open, and the com line died as she walked onto the bridge. She swiftly walked to the forward port ‘aux’ console and sat. “I needed to use a bigger console, We’re almost done with compiling the power usage report.”
“Negative, XO, I have a feeling that our Klingon friends are somehow involved with the com line static, I just don’t know how. I’m going to lead an away mission to the War Bird. You are to stay here and see what you can uncover with the Klingon. Perkins, Michaels, you’re with me. XO, the ship is yours.”
“Sir,” Jones protested, “Change to regulations state that the commanding officer is no longer allowed to lead…”
“Check the books, Miss Jones, it specifically calls out ‘dangerous situations’. I don’t foresee any danger on this one. I’ll contact you shortly.” He stood and walked with his helmsman towards the lift that Perkins was now holding for them. Almost as an after thought, he added, “Have Doc, Lieutenant O’Kelly and an off watch engineering technician meet us in transporter room one.” He stepped into the lift and smiled at her as the door shut.
The transporter operator had admitted to not knowing the layout too well of the Romulan vessel, but McDougal couldn’t have been any more pleased by where they did materialize. He looked around the bridge and noticed that there was no real seating at any of the control stations. He and his party wore atmosphere masks, allowing them to breathe clean air in case Cerberus’s sensors lied to them and the Romulan ship’s air was toxic. Doc quickly brought out his medical tricorder and began to survey the air. McDougal walked to the main control stalk in the center of the bridge and attempted to identify the panels there. Engineer’s Mate Second Class Mitchell Walker walked beside his commander and set down the equipment he had brought with him. The EM2 opened one of his two cases and extracted two wire probes that he plugged into an open receptacle.
“Air’s clean,” Doc stated matter-of-factly. “O’Kelly and I will search this deck for what remains of the crew.” Doc and the security chief turned and left the tiny bridge and headed aft.
McDougal watched them go as he removed his breather. “Perkins, what do you make of all of this?” he asked.
The young science officer took off his breather and started up his tricorder. “Almost seventy years old, sir. There hasn’t been any life here in at least fifty. The tric’ is beginning to translate some of the Romulan words on these panels…”
“Sorry to interrupt you, sirs,” Walker started, “but I have finished interfacing with the ship’s mainframe. Everything should be accessible through this portable console here. I’d like to go to Engineering and do the same there, and see if I can’t get you some power.”
McDougal nodded and watched him go too. Overall, the internal space onboard the Romulan ship was smaller than that on Cerberus, and he doubted that the young tech would get lost.
“Sir,” Michaels chimed in, “If I can find the helm I can reprogram her to head to the nearest starbase, once we have the power to do so.” Perkins looked up from his tricorder and pointed to one of the panels on the stalk, then continued his scan about the bridge.
McDougal chuckled softly to himself. “All we really need to do is get this beast pointed in the right direction and download the ship’s logs. Star Fleet will probably donate it back to the Romulans anyhow.” He paused to stare out the tiny viewport at his own ship as the war bird slowly tilted around again.
K’Tark ginned at Jones with a sharp, toothy smile. “I have control over my men, commander,” he said, almost apologetically. “We were partaking in an ancient ritual. Since I have no son of my own, I was testing these two to see who would be most worthy of the extremely honorable right.” Something about the massive Klingon’s expressions didn’t seem right to her, almost as if he was concealing something.
“We just wanted to make sure that there wasn’t going to be any bloodshed on board,” she replied to him. “By the way, are you aware that you have two waiting messages from the High Council?” There wasn’t an easy way to dance around the spiny bush, so Jones just plowed through it. “Have you received any messages since you have been on board? There is a possibility that your room’s com lines have malfunctioned…”
Sausage fingers rose into view on the main screen then fell with a loud slap as the Klingon began a deep belly chuckle. “I have known of those two messages, I chose not to read them yet. As for your other question, I am afraid that I must say that…” he stumbled on the words, choking down serious pain and presented himself as if nothing was wrong, “we have not received any other messages.”
Jones sat in the command seat, puzzled at the thought. If not them then who? Was it really just static? Would they really tell us? “Is there anything else we can do for you, ambassador?”
“I have written a message to my family that I wish to be sent off at once. There is nothing confidential so you can do your duty and scan it if you like,” he paused a moment to catch his breath. “Just be sure that it is sent within the next few minutes to my son…” The screen blanked and for a brief moment the bridge crew paused.
“His message is standing by to be sent, sir,” T’Sala said from behind the XO.
“Let me see it,” she sighed and stood, walking to the port aux station. “He’s trying to say something without being able to say it. He made mention of having no son and yet sending this to his son… It is all in Klingon and a mix between ancient dialects and current ones…” she started as the message displayed on her screen.
“I think that there may be a secret message in it,” T’Sala said calmly. “I will assist you in trying to decipher it.”
Twenty silent minutes passed on the bridge as the two worked on the translation and decryption of the ambassador’s message, when finally Jones had to take a break. She keyed for her captain’s com line and when he answered, she immediately began to fill him in on recent happenings.
As soon as he was up to speed, she added, “we’ve managed to isolate the following words: ‘KLINGONS’ ‘ACCIDENTAL’ ‘OUR’ ‘GET’ ‘CAUSE’ ‘INNOCENT’ ‘A’ ‘WILL’ ‘FAULT’ ‘THE’ ‘WE’ ‘ARE’ ‘MASTERS’ ‘FOLLOWING’ ‘BOOM’ ‘NOT’ ‘SORRY’ ‘SHIP’ ‘OFF’ and ‘ORDERS’. Some of those repeat, but that is it so far. I can have more in depth results once we discover the order that these go in.”
“Good work, XO,” McDougal’s voice replied. “We’re almost done over here, maybe ten more minutes and this ship will be underway on its own power again.”
“We should have more answers for you by then. Cerberus, out.”
K’Tark could feel the build up within him. He watched as the two guards struggled against their restraints and envied them. They would die here, despite being compelled to find a population center before the end. He wasn’t so lucky, however, as his programming would force him to the main bridge, the control center. Eventually, he would no longer be able to resist the urge and he would go. But he would delay the end as long as he could. This ship and her crew were innocent and did not deserve to die. Hopefully his message would be figured out in time, and the three of them would die in the hard vacuum of space. It was a small price to pay to preserve the honor of the Klingon Empire.
He was impressed with his ability to fool the device in his mind, deceiving it into allowing the message, telling the crew to either get off the ship or beam the Klingons away from the ship. He thought back to his encounter with the human woman, Jones. She could understand his words well, and this message should be simple for her. He sat down on his bed, and hoped beyond hope that they would get it all sorted out soon. The pressure built up inside him, just as the Masters had said it would. He knew he had less than ten minutes to live, and had done everything that he could to save them all.
A random thought crossed his mind, almost too simple. He stood and walked to the closer of his two bodyguards. He would not be permitted to kill either of them, but he would be allowed to combat them, a fight that would call the guards outside into the quarters. It would be a fight that would not end until he was either stunned into submission or killed outright. Either way, all three of them would them be in the same area when the end came, and the damage to the ship would be minimized. With a grunt, he kicked the guard square in the groin. The guard screamed in surprise, and attempted to stand against his restraints. K’Tark continued his assault, even as the ships guards burst in.
Phaser beams streaked into his hide, singing the skin beneath his armor and his clothing, but it wasn’t enough. K’Tark continued the assault, the only feeling he had was the growing urge to leave and make his way to the command center. He fought on, struggling to speak against his controller. “Just kill me,” he wanted to say, but what came out sounded like Klingon combat grunting. Finally, the fatal shot hit home, and his back-up programming kicked in.
“We cracked the code, sir,” Jones’ voice cracked through the communicator he held in his hand. “It is the best that the computer could come up with given the words we had and the time, I'm reading it to you as it comes across, we haven't fully read it yet ourselves: ‘We were forced into this by our new Masters. The Klingon Empire takes no responsibility for this incident. Save yourselves, get off the ship and save the innocent, or beam…’” The line went to static, and McDougal tried frantically to call his ship. The war bird rotated itself again into view of Cerberus. He could see through the tiny port hole his ship as one large explosion erupted from behind the bridge module, burning bright orange as it was fueled by escaping atmosphere.
“Oh my…” he managed as his jaw dropped. Cerberus now burned quietly in space, and there was nothing he could do.
Czar "Getting there is half the fun" Mohab
Topic: Second Chances (Read 21655 times)