CH. 13
“Damage report?”
Twenty hours had not bettered the captain’s mood. The failure of the day before still rode heavily upon his brow. Engineer Hekk looked up from the mass of melted, carbon crusted wiring and conduits that spilled from the bulkhead before them. He and the three men he’d taken from other duties had dismantled much of this section of engineering in their attempted to make right all that was wrong. Their long hours of work had made for little progress.
“The overload affected every subsystem integrated—“
Dath’mar’s kicking boot knocked the old man over onto his haunches. The captain’s palm rested on the butt of his huge pistol. “I know that much! I ask for a status update.”
“Then perhaps you should be more clear!” Hekk risked a bit of indignation as he reclaimed his kneeling position. He and the two men beside him were covered in grit and soot. The whole compartment smelled of burned insulation. “I have yet to replace all the destroyed control modules because I’m wasting all my time tearing out all this…MESS!”
“So you’ve repaired nothing!”
“I have barely enough men to keep the operational systems from joining the inoperative ones! We are lucky to retain flight capacity! The long-range sensor array is dead due to power control malfunctions… The cloaking device is full of burned out conduits and I’m quite sure the field coil is out of phase.” Hekk took a breath and forced himself to calm. He picked through the scorched wiring in his hands almost unconsciously. “With half our control systems destroyed and the other half questionable…we’ll be lucky if we can steer all the way back to Galt, let alone a proper repair base!”
Hekk braced for fresh reprisal from his CO. None came. Dath’mar’s anger had spent. Only his personal misery for a job so badly gone wrong remained. The enemy had not bested them. The limitations imposed by command had not bested them. Pang’s old, worn out machinery had. Control modules not replaced in twenty years and not upgraded in who knew how long had gotten the better of them and made a barely feasible mission nigh impossible. Now Pang slunk back home bearing what little burden she’d been able to steal.
“Will the drive hold up till we regain Imperial space?”
Hekk stopped and looked back up again.
“My engines will see us home, Captain. They have never failed.”
Dath’mar studied Hekk for some time. At least he nodded and stalked slowly away. For the first time, the engineer noticed that damned little Targ following at his heels. It was a comical sight.
Captain Dath’mar leaned heavily against the bulkhead of the turbo elevator. The twin doors clanged closed. He and his pet were alone. The overhead computer buzzed impatiently for a destination. The tired captain ignored it. He closed his eye and focused on breathing.
Dath’mar, captain in his Chancellor’s Empire, did not often fail.
Never had he failed in a thing so important.
His inability to bring back simple dirt ate at his insides. That such a simple thing should help to bring his kinsmen low before its enemies… He could not accept this turn of fate. There had to be more that he could do. He wracked his warrior’s brain, so used to thinking in military terms and equations.
UQ QetwI gurgled inquisitively at his feet and nuzzled his shin guards for attention. Dath’mar pondered where he could turn to acquire the remainder of the ore he needed to save Galt’s schedule. He knew of no other world within range where he could gather the nitrate. No ships were known to be hauling it during this season. The closest supplies in the Empire were beyond range…
There was always the Federation.
The Klingon warrior’s stomach curled at the very thought of appealing to them. The Empire had already come to rely on them…far too much. To ask for more would bring a shame none could live with. The fact that La’ra had not suggested this as a course of action from the beginning told Dath’mar that the Brigadier had likely been told not to seek human help. So, where else was there to turn?
The squall of the intercom broke the captain’s dark reverie.
“Report!” He growled.
“Captain…Federation battlecruiser on approach.”
At the sound of his First’s voice, Dath’mar came once more to a more awake stance and pressed a control stud for the bridge. “Type and distance?”
“Miranda-Type. Identity yet unknown. Distance 400,000 kelicams.”
“I’m on my way.”
The lift door deposited the captain and his targ within the security chamber aft of the bridge. Dath’mar strode through swiftly, chattering to his pet which obligingly hopped high enough for his master to catch him. Carrying the animal like a ball under one arm, the captain entered his command room.
“Slow to sublight!” The captain’s voice was a veritable roar. His consternation had reached new height. The crew noted this and avoided looking at him.
Dath’mar moved to his command dais and took his chair. The Surgeon was present, looking on as the Federation craft approached. The captain handed his targ off to the surgeon who obligingly stepped away. The officers gathered on the Klingon cruiser’s bridge watched as the stars began to draw to a halt. The Federation cruiser slowed to sublight also and angled in to close with the Klingon ship. The captain betrayed no plans as he sat studying the simple design of their new opponent.
The ship was indeed of Starfleet’s Miranda-Class. Based in part on Klingon design, the ship was a straight-forward construction consisting of a saucer, a large engineering and auxiliary craft section built into the rear and two warp pods. A roll bar and torpedo module capped the vessel off, giving it a very adaptable capacity for accepting mission specific systems.
This vessel was well known to the crew of the Pang. She had been included in the sector briefings reviewed three months back. And they had already spoken with this ship once. She was the USS Comanche, NCC-2044. And she was packing serious firepower.
“Comanche is hailing.” Called out Lieutenant Jark. “Captain Ramses wishes to confer.”
“On screen.”
The bridge of the Federation cruiser looked no different than it had when Kurvis had spoken with Comanche. Clean. Brightly lit. Gaily painted. The captain sat in a powder blue chair. Captain Ramses could almost pass for a Klingon in build. His left eyebrow arched high in curiosity as he regarded the Klingon captain.
“Captain Dath’mar, we meet at last.”
“So it would seem.” Dath’mar replied in bored fashion.
“You mind telling me why your ship is high-tailing it through Federation space?”
Dath’mar cast a glare at his navigator. Ger’shall shrank in her seat. Little could be blamed on her. Without long range and navigational sensors, she’d had to rely totally on inertial navigation and visual sightings. Such was not widely practiced. At warp speeds, visual sightings on stellar landmarks were unreliable. The captain looked slowly back to his opposite number on the viewer.
“I would mind.”
Captain Ramses developed a rankled look and stood up from his little chair. He advanced threateningly on his own visual feed and jabbed a big finger at the Klingon. “Captain, I cut you slack a while back when your needed to stop for repair. You did your thing, then you moved on. I’ve been listening to distress calls for twenty-four hours telling me about a Klingon ship attacking a mining colony…a damn dirt farm! I couldn’t help but think of you. Now I find you, your ship all shot to hell, trailing smoke from out your nacelles, lost in Federation space… And you’re not gonna humor me with a why?”
“No.”
Ramses glared back with a bemused gleam in his brown eyes.
“You know that I could intern your ship for an unmitigated attack on a peaceful neighbor’s territory?” The threat was an empty one. Both realized this. The Federation and its Starfleet would not initiate any action that would damage the building relations between the two powers. But Dath’mar knew Ramses had to do something. The likelihood of an armed conflict here was quite acute should the wrong actions be taken.
Dath’mar sank into his command chair.
“No one will be interning the Pang.”
“Then what do you suggest, Captain? I have to know what’s going on here.”
***
Captain Dath’mar entered the spacious briefing room buried deep within the core of the Federation vessel. The Klingon had brought with him no guards. Few could be spared from his ship and her repairs. The black clad warrior stood with arms crossed on the far side of the pale blue table that dominated the chamber.
The captain actually thought of this room as far more functional than his own, tiny briefing compartment. Perhaps he’d order his own enlarged…
Captain Ramses regarded the aloof Klingon commander and waved away his security sentries. The armed men stepped out of the room without complaint. The two shipmasters were alone. Silence reigned.
“So…you want to go first?”
Dath’mar remained quiet, then lowered his arms, slipping his thumbs into his belt at either side. “My ship is on a mission for the Empire.”
The Captain’s duty to complete his mission and to avoid conflict were grating, more now than ever before. Dath’mar’s nerves were beyond frayed. He was uncertain as to how to proceed.
“Why don’t you start first by telling me what the problem is?”
This question caught the warrior off guard.
“What do you mean?”
“You said you were on a mission for the Empire, right? Then why don’t you start by telling me what problem led you to violate Gorn space and transport away fifteen hundred tons of fertilizer.”
The earnest cast to the human’s face was beguiling. Dath’mar steeled himself.
“There was a soil contamination on one of our colonies.”
“Galt?”
The Klingon glared at the human. Ramses shrugged.
“That was where you went…”
Dath’mar forced his spine to relax and his shoulders to give way to some fatigue. This human was a watchful one. His ship had spied on the Pang from afar. “Yes. Galt.”
“So you went to the Gorn colony to steal…dirt?”
Embarrassment flooded the Klingons face, reddening his countenance. This ignominy was beyond any limit he might be expected to endure. But it was the will of the Empire. “We went to take what was needed for the survival of the Empire!”
“That’s a lame excuse. I assume you did this when all other avenues turned up dry? Why didn’t your government contact the Federation—“
“We can accept no further hand outs from your--!” The captain’s outburst was quickly checked, but not quickly enough. Ramses sat back in his soft chair and nodded.
“Pride, huh? Well…I can understand that. Pride makes a lot of people do stupid things.”
Dath’mar slowly approached the table and leaned down, planting fists atop its cold surface. “You dare question the intelligence of my superiors?”
Ramses was tense, but he did not back away. Dath’mar could smell the primal energies building within the man. This human would fight him, here and now. He found he liked this human for that trait.
“You do too…” Ramses told him. “I can tell by the way you talk about it. You think the fool who dreamed this little raid up is a complete dumbass. You jeopardized relations with a neighbor, strained peace talks with a possible future ally, got your ship shot up and had to haul a load of sh*t halfway through the galaxy because some higher-up didn’t want his Empire to look weak.”
Dath’mar remained where put. The plan had been his. But the restrictions had been conferred to him by Command. What Ramses had guessed was essentially true. Dath’mar did hate this mission. He hated further the fact that this self-important shipmaster had cobbled together so accurate a portrayal of the week’s events.
“Am I wrong?” The human prodded.
“No.”
“Then what we need is a better solution. Do your orders preclude asking us for help?” The human waited. Dath’mar drew back to his full height.
“They did not cover such an option. Either way…I will not crawl on my belly for help from your people.”
Ramses stared back evenly, without real expression.
“I’m not asking you to. There are other avenues. There’s always a surplus of farming material wherever there’s a Federation colony. Starbase 23 plays nursemaid to three colony sites.”
“This would be no different than groveling—“
“You need to think on a wider spectrum, Captain.”
The Klingon’s eye narrowed. What was this wry human suggesting? A thought niggled at the back of Dath’mar’s military mind. Could he force himself to think as this conniving human did? Realization dawned in him.
“Can there be…a back avenue to getting nitrates…without a formal request?”
Ramses smiled.
“There can be. We have plenty of loose freighters in our sector. One or more can be hired indirectly to run…whatever you might buy…into Klingon space…”
Dath’mar considered this option. Little could be said if Galt’s governor purchased nitrate through a private contractor if Dath’mar could simply provide him one. The warrior’s dire face softened. He felt like a miserable weakling. He stood in silence. Most of his heart refused to accept this measure.
His mind made the final decision in the good of the Empire.
“I will need a contact name and information.”
“I’ll have it for you before you leave.” Ramses replied with a nod. The captain stood up from his blue seat and looked across to his counterpart. “Now, about that colony you raided…”