Here's y'all some more unmemorable work to read
CH. 6
Lieutenant Hekk tried to stand as tall and straight as his aged tendons would allow before the captain’s scrutiny. Dath’mar did not look pleased with the figures he’d just outlined. For now the younger man simply sat there at the desk, looking back at him with that one, piercing eye. The small, garish light that illuminated the CO’s anteroom shone off the unpolished steel plate that covered the other orb. Dath’mar was unnerving enough with just the one eye.
At last the captain adjusted his position in his seat and grunted. He looked away.
“Two hours… Beaming in dirt.”
“You asked for the figures of how long it would take to beam it up while under cloak. I also have the figures for time while decloaked.” Hekk offered. Dath’mar returned his eye to the engineer.
“And?”
“Twenty minutes.”
Dath’mar rolled his eye and went back to staring at the dark bulkhead.
“Twenty minutes, unshielded under the guns of a Gorn warship. Pang would be destroyed.”
Hekk shrugged. He was relatively secure he had a better idea on how to proceed.
“We would be far more vulnerable trying this under cloak. The Gorn would not take much time to locate us on their scanners once we activated all our transporters. Site to site transport costs a great deal of energy. Such expenditure will bleed through the best cloak. Uncloaked, we can return fire and even deploy our dorsal and aft shields.”
The captain looked back to the engineer. There was a hint of surprise upon his normally impassive face. “Our shields will not slow the transport cycle?”
“All transporter nodes are built into ventral facing positions aboard the latest refit of the D-7. Were we to lower only the ventral facing, we would add only another ten minutes to the total time.”
Dath’mar listened to the engineer’s explanation and nodded.
“I will take your data into consideration when I devise the plan.” This was as close to praise as many Klingon commanders ever came. Hekk was satisfied. “You are due back in Engineering?”
“Yes.”
“Station.”
Hekk saluted, bringing his withered, clenched fist to his breast and shooting it forth before him. Dath’mar returned the gesture before the engineer turned and removed himself from the captain’s cabin. This new captain was much different than any other the old engineer had served with. He was approachable in matters dealing with duty or the ship. He kept to himself during meal times, a habit different from many but not unheard of. He was reserved and quiet. One might have labeled him moody, but he seemed to only have variations of one particular, dark mood. Hekk pondered the man and their unusual mission as he entered the close by lift and set it for the engineering deck.
***
Commander Kurvis squinted in the gloom of his quarters at the fat Surgeon who sat before him. Like his captain, Kurvis took care of most administration matters in the comfort of his cabin’s small anteroom office. He did not favor the doctor’s visit, nor did he enjoy what was being relayed to him.
“You want me to…talk to the Second Gunner?”
“His disgruntled outbursts amid the crew are bad for morale…” The Surgeon warned forcefully, leaning over the short desk and pointing to a blank spot of the plastic surface. “And very dangerous should he find those he can convert to his way of thinking!”
“You believe him capable of leading a mutiny?”
Doubt tugged at the doctor’s features. He obviously did not think he should take things that far just yet. But, then, he’d already broached the subject. “Perhaps. But I do not know.”
Kurvis stood up to his full height behind his desk. A light played in the Surgeon’s eyes. There was doubt and worry there. He did not know what sort of box he had just opened on the unsuspecting Second Gunner. The First Officer pegged the fat man with an iron stare. “Surgeon, if a member of this crew is openly taking a stance against his captain, then it must be dealt with. Harshly. What has he done so far?”
“He has merely voiced his opinions…loudly.”
“He spouts dissention?”
“He is dissatisfied!”
“Then perhaps I can arrange for his satisfaction.” The doctor shook his wildly maned head. He hadn’t bargained for such a heavy-handed solution to the matter. Still yet, he had no idea what Kurvis had in mind. The First took some measure of amusement out of the unsettled expression now shining upon the fat Klingon’s face. “You have done your duty and brought this to my attention. I will now do mine and inform the Captain. I will make my own recommendation…then the Captain will decide what to do.”
“The last time he dealt with Motek, the captain damned near killed him!”
“And he may yet finish the job, Surgeon.” Kurvis told him resolutely. “This is a Klingon warship, not a pleasure liner. We don’t issue demerits for poor behavior. If a man crosses the wrong line, he may pay the ultimate price for his failure.”
Now the surgeon’s lips took on a sullen twist.
“He does not deserve death for being angry! Motek may become a fine officer. He is an excellent gunner, and the Empire would do well to keep a man of his skill in a position where he might still do good—“
Kurvis slid his black service gloves on and turned back to the irate doctor.
“Enough, Doctor. The decision belongs to the Captain. Not you or I. I’m headed to the bridge.”
***
The drone of the mighty engines dulled and dropped almost below the frequency of hearing as the IKS Pang slowed to sublight speed and settled in above the brown and green farming world of Galt. The Pang eased in to a close orbit to better facilitate the transport of the bulk of her crew to the surface. The cruiser’s mission still lay before her, and this stop over would allow her to better complete that task.
Captain Dath’mar materialized in the midst of a small, open pasture. A wide expanse of fenced in dirt surrounded him and his science officer as they surveyed the area around them. The captain had worn his field cloak, but it soon proved unnecessary in the damp heat of this forested world.
The governor of Galt was quick to appear before them from within the confines of a low, wide trussed barn full of Keddek. He wore riding leathers and long armed gloves for handling the biting, long legged Keddek riding beasts. On his lined, fat face, he bore a happy grin. “Ah, Captain! Lieutenant Commander! I am happy you have arrived.”
“You are informed of my plans?” Dath’mar asked of him. I’rell said nothing, watching passively.
“Yes, Captain. A wide area is ready for the encampment of your men, and a sector of the forest has been cordoned off for their military and hunting exercises. Will they need no further supply?”
Dath’mar looked off over the close horizon. With all of the trees and the tall hills of the terrain, this planet did not appear so big. But after months of confinement on a cruiser, it felt…alien. There was so much space. The smell of dirt and manure differed so greatly from the stale smell of recycled air, the musk of warriors and the sweet taint of leather. Time on this world would not be unpleasant.
“Our men will have ample supply from ship’s stores. The rest I expect them to acquire on their own. You will keep a detailed log of all transgressions precipitated by the men. I will review them on my return.”
“Do you expect trouble, Captain?”
“I expect them to behave as men who have been cooped u on a battlecruiser for half a year.” The captain replied to the farmer. Governor Legat smiled in that knowing way, belonging to the old and wise.
“Of course, Captain. They are starved for activity…of the kind not belonging aboard ship.”
Dath’mar studied them for a time, then nodded. The farmer understood. The captain nodded once. “Indeed.”
“I don’t believe there will be any problem.” The governor told him with confidence. “We have had cruisers lay over for shore leave before.”
Dath’mar turned away from the older man and studied the flow of the land. The hills drew his eye. They reminded him of his home in the midlands of Qo’noS. He had not seen the homeworld in some decades. Perhaps when his vengeance was sated.
Commander I’rell stepped up as the captain pondered the future, her tricorder raised in question. The captain gave her a nod and stepped away. The old governor studied the young science officer appreciatively. “Governor. We have located a source of sodium nitrate of level one purity. We have ascertained that Pang can extract and carry thirty-four hundred tons of raw nitrate. This will meet your requirements?”
Legat smiled gratefully as he nodded.
“Oh yes, Lieutenant Commander. We would require much more bulk in fertilized soil, but that amount of raw nitrate will more than suffice. How have you come by such an amount?”
“We are going to borrow it from our neighbors.” I’rell told him simply. Legat studied her for a moment. His face bloomed with understanding. He knew exactly what these warriors were about to risk for his colony’s success. He seemed to sober considerably and slouched a bit more. Dath’mar said nothing as usual. He continued to ponder the roll of the lands and the height of the trees.
I’rell glanced to her captain and watched him. He was stoic, like the warriors from tales of old. He said little, and when he bothered to speak, there were no excess words. He spoke only of the matters of immediate concern. She wondered if he had any friends. Likely not, given most of his former crew was dead, or spread out in assignments with the far-flung Klingon Fleet. None of his previous officers had followed him to this assignment. The science officer did not know whether it had been their choice, Dath’mar’s or the Fleet’s. After all, the captain never spoke of it.
Standing there, silhouetted against the brilliance of the horizon, the setting sun of to his left, Captain Dath’mar looked the very picture of loneliness.
Governor Legat stepped in closer to the slim young science officer. “While the captain enjoys the sunset, my dear, let’s go and look at the area set aside for your Qas Dev’. There will be plenty of game for them to stalk, and varied terrain for exercise. Will you be beaming down your ground skimmers?”
I’rell glanced to the old farmer in surprise.
“Yes. The captain wants all the space in our bays. That included the two armored cars. Why?”
“I was once a marine myself. I was assigned to an assault battalion specializing in armored vehicles.” The leader told her as they passed over the rough, rocky ground, headed for the thick forest.
“You were a marine?”
Legat looked back to her, amusement in his small eyes.
“You seem surprised.”
“You do not seem a warrior.”
Legat nodded as he looked back ahead of them. For a man of his height, he cleared a lot of territory with his fast gait. I’rell was already beginning to sweat in the humid air. “I joined the Imperial Fleet to bring honor to my family. My father had done the same, and was proud. He’d been maimed in the Mirak wars. My service made his years waiting to die more tolerable. He enjoyed stories of my adventures, especially tales of battles against the Mirak. I think he died a happier man for my efforts. I never rose to officer ranks, but my tenure among the Qas Dev’ was a good one.”
They began to near a collection of supply sheds and heavier buildings. A long, barbed fence of wire divided the flatter land from the hilly, wooded parts beyond. Legat pointed to a section of the fence where the posts were set in pairs. “The fencing can be dismantled at that point to access the rest of the settlement. Should your Qas DevwI' wish to include the colony’s towns in his exercises, we will cooperate. All bear arms, including the Ulder’ni and the Anarians.”
“You have subject races here?” I’rell asked. She’d yet to see any evidence of any but Klingons here since beam-down. The farmer nodded.
“Oh, yes. A farming colony cannot get along without them. Most work the lower lands where our machines cannot go for fear of becoming stuck in the mud. They will be returning before nightfall.”
I’rell thought of how much different life must be out here amid the frontier…on a colony… One hardly noticed aliens from other worlds on Qo’noS. They kept to themselves and seldom stayed on the homeworld any longer than their business demanded. But out here, work and the demands of a thriving and essential colony brought Klingons and the races they protected and governed together on a daily basis. Compared to life aboard a cruiser, the thought of this seemed fascinating and a little repulsive to the science officer.
The governor also brought forth interest from the commander. He had been in the fleet, been a marine… Now he planted crops and lived the life of an Imperial Subject. He’d traded his disruptor for a trowel. The most confusing part of this enigma to the officer was the fact that Legat seemed unbothered by the difference. The larger man halted at the fence line. The sizzle of Pang’s transporters came to their ears as a group of nine warriors laden with gear faded into view. The Qas DevwI' had brought his command party down and was about to prepare for the transport of the rest of his marines. I’rell watched on as Commander Kel’dann began to bark orders to his subordinates. The lower officers began to drop their packs to the thick grass and drag out the items they’d need first. Soon, they had rudimentary field communications and sensors in operation.
“So you left the Imperial Service to become the governor of a farm?” I’rell asked Legat as they watched the marines do their work. Another squad beamed in before them and began to fan out into the first three search/recon parties.
Legat smirked and glanced aside at her.
“Not exactly. I used my training as a Petty Officer to land a job in management and administration back on the homeworld. This led me to the Agriculture and Colonization Bureau. They propelled me to my current standing, and when Galt became available as a posting, I took it!”
“I don’t understand how such a posting would appeal after a tour in the Fleet.” I’rell said, deciding to get right to the crux of her confusion. “Surely your warrior’s heart led you to become a warrior.”
“Yes.”
“And you willingly left the Fleet…” She probed. He offered no argument, so she went on. “To become the leader of a farm.”
Legat nodded grandly. Pride showed on his face.
“The governor of the biggest farm planet in three sectors!”
I’rell could feel the man’s pride in his accomplishments here. Was he as proud of his former life as a soldier? She wondered whether or not to question him further. But she had duties to attend to. Hers was the responsibility of taking the Qas DevwI’s first report and detailing his further needs for this deployment. The captain seemed to be a reasonably patient man, but she did not wish to test him by delaying her report.
With a motion to the gate, she prompted the farm governor to dismantle the fence for them to enter. They made their way down the gentle slope to the burgeoning campsite.
***
Captain Dath’mar was leaning on a fence, still looking to where the sun had sank in the west when his science officer returned, tricorder in hand. He knew her by the sound of her approach and did not need to look at her. She drew to a halt and awaited his acknowledgement of her existence. When he said nothing for nearly a minute, she coughed slightly and scuffed the ground with her armored boots. He hid his amusement and looked back to her.
“Learn anything useful, science officer?”
“The Qas DevwI’ states that he will initiate a surprise attack drill tonight with the shuttlecraft we are leaving behind. He wishes to test his marines’ response times in unfamiliar terrain after all their work in setting up base camp—“
“I did not mean about our men and how they’re going to play around while we are gone.”
I’rell stopped and stared a moment. Her face showed the thought processing in her mind.
“The Governor?”
“Yes.”
“He is proficient, more so than I thought a farmer might be. He was once a warrior.”
“I thought as much. Qas Dev?”
“Yes, he was a marine.”
“And yet he chose to live a life amid dirt and plants and barnyard animals…” Dath’mar’s statement might have denoted confusion, but he did not feel any. He could see the appeal in this life. It was…peaceful. This was not a notion that had ever called out to him before. He was a born warrior, a soldier of the Empire. But the idea of spending his life on this ball of dirt did not seem so bad. Perhaps if death did not find him in service, perhaps he would wait for it on a world such as this one. He’d still prefer to meet his end in battle, though.
“Will the marines require further supply?” He asked finally.
“No. Commander Kel’dann states that he has all that he needs. I suspect he has intentionally left his camp short in some supplies to further test the resolve of his troops.”
The captain nodded and abandoned his prop against the aged wooden fence. He faced his science officer. “Then we leave.”
I’rell nodded, handing her captain a chip containing her report. She drew out her communicator and keyed it on. “I’rell to Pang. The captain and I are coming up.”
And so they left Galt and its fresh air.
***
--thu guv
Topic: Dirt (Read 25707 times)