OK...let's wrap this part up...
Chapter Eight
“…In fact, I think they’re quite close to finding their lost ship.” Captain Sharp replied to the open comm line to the drifting Bird of Prey. Just behind the listless craft and its debris, a looming shadow with definite shape was beginning to loom into being.
That dark shadow was had to mistake. The general shape was one grilled into Starfleet trainees almost from Day One. It appeared in hundreds of holovids every year on hundreds of planets across known space and even lurched into view with terrifying clarity in the nightmares of Fleet veterans. Long neck, broad, flat main body. Hunched, angular wings, holding engine pods aloft. Even without a clear picture, Sharp had no doubts…
“Prepare to return to the ship, Number One.” He decided, instantly resetting the intercom link. And when had he started calling his XO Number One? Captain Pratchett had called him that… “Transporter room, lock in on the boarding party and—“
“Klingon cruiser intensifying forward scans!” Came from the technician at science. “I have transporter activity!”
Sharp’s eye shot to the barely functioning tactical display. It showed few details, but the science station’s range estimate showed the Klingon cruiser to still be outside transporter range of his ship. The Bird of Prey, however, was between the two craft.
“Incoming hail, Captain.” Reported the communication’s tech replacing Ensign Lania. “Audio only.”
“On speakers, technician.”
A bored sounding, terse voice with a clipped accent poured onto the bridge.
“Federation ship, Cleopatra, you are ordered to stand down. If you attempt to target weapons or activate your transporter, we will open fire. Respond.”
Sharp’s hand quickly went to the comm control.
“This is Captain Sharp. You are trespassing in Federation space. You have no authority to give orders here.”
“We are not here to dispute territorial matters with you. We will reclaim our warship and handle the matter of its theft.”
Sharp knew that the Klingon’s latter claim could lead to all manner of supposed misunderstandings. His Sixth Sense was unusually silent in the matter. He pondered how best to proceed, and decided to feel ahead slowly. Carefully.
“We were not the thieves.”
“We fully understand your role in this matter, Captain. Terminating communication.”
The Klingon battlecruiser eased more fully into view before them. It was massive in comparison to the Bird of Prey raider. Its blue-black hull contrasted heavily with the brilliant, glowing clouds of gas behind it. Very few internal lights blazed from within, and those few that did were seemingly dim. It seemed that the ship breathed stealth. The captain noted with relief that while trained on his ship, the enemy’s weapons were not primed to fire.
“Comm, get me the boarding party.”
Lieutenant Ford’s overriding thought as his communicator beeped at him plaintively was how much a Klingon disruptor seemed to resemble a blunt, stubby pistol from Old West movies. Truly, it was a modern, space-age energy weapon, and would reduce a sizable portion of his anatomy to blood-soaked ash…but the similarity was amazing.
No thought of fighting back against these aliens entered either his or Ensign Lania’s minds. The pair of officers were flanked on all sides by seven, unmoving, armored Klingon soldiers. Each Klingon stood at least two meters distant, and aimed their weapons, unwaveringly, at their captives’ faces.
No one spoke. No one moved.
Ford really needed to pee.
Commander Ellyson blinked with building fear as the Klingon soldiers moved slowly through their bridge with practiced ease. They stepped over corpses with hardly a glance down, eyes locked on the Federation trespassers before them. The Starfleet exec knew that should a battle erupt here, her team would likely win the contest. She had them out numbered. But initiating a fight here would lead to a much larger battle outside…and she had no idea what sort of vessel the Klingons had brought with them. The Cleopatra was tactically proficient, but only to an extent. Unshielded, many of the Empire’s heavily armored warships would have a decided advantage.
Thankfully, these Klingons seemed quite calm about the whole affair. Of the seven warriors walking about as if they owned the place, only four had weapons raised. And these only held their pistols at hip level. Ready, but defensive. None took their eyes from the humans for long. Several knelt to examine the corpses on the deck.
At the back to the Klingon pack, a much taller warrior stepped amid his comrades, drawing Ellyson’s attention for the first time. He was quite large, wore the same armor as his kinsmen. His pistol was holstered in a cross-draw, neither hand anywhere in the vicinity. The tall Klingon was broad-shouldered, and fairer of complexion than the others. His hair was militarily short, slightly curled, framing a tall forehead of ridges that resembled more deep lines than bumps.
The Klingon took his time in examining corpses, stations and readouts. He paused to eye the Starfleet soldiers. He noted the red shoulder pads of the security personnel, nodded with approval. He glanced back to the corpses as he stepped from the protective center of his own small troop. Only now did Ellyson notice the rank of full captain shining on his high collar.
The Klingon captain looked at her evenly. He seemed satisfied, at ease…maybe even a trifle bored. He nodded with seeming respect to the commander. His lips pursed.
“Your rank is ‘commander’?”
Ellyson hesitated before answering. The smell of the oils used to polish the captain’s armor tickled at her nose. Earthy. Gun oil or the like. Not the nasty armpit stink old veterans told you to expect.
“Yes, Captain. I’m Commander—“
“Ellyson. USS Cleopatra.” For some reason, the commander had thought a Klingon would fumble with the name of her ship. The captain’s English was near flawless, thought the accent was blunt. “My First Officer identified you.”
Me or my ship, Ellyson wondered…
The captain’s head bobbed to the nearest alien cadaver.
“Good work. Clean. I’m glad you didn’t damage the ship’s controls.”
Ellyson glanced off to some of the controls she and the enemy had damaged. Nothing too serious, she guessed. A field repair could get most of it up and running. The engine core was a different matter, though.
When Ellyson looked back to the Klingon, his eyes swiftly arose from lower down her anatomy. She blinked, stunned at the thought of being ogled by a Klingon warrior. Perhaps he was just examining her equipment. The glint in his eye said otherwise. He turned away.
“Have you determined the location of the aliens’ fleet?”
Lieutenant Fujiwara stirred nervously. She worried he would do something stupid, start the firefight she almost thought inevitable. Her own rifle hung in her hands, aimed for the deck. She had the best chance of taking the captain.
“I think so.”
The Klingon looked back at her pointedly. She knew the question. She turned quickly back to the console behind her and tapped a trio of controls. The ad hoc map returned to the screens. The captain looked, squinting. Then he frowned, a sarcastic looking thing on his unbearded face.
“Federation space.” He said, obviously disappointed. “A job for Captain Decker and his Constellation, then. Tell him to be careful, Commander. Their technology is lesser than ours, but they have six ships. And the Tirv are tenacious.”
“Tirv?”
He motioned to the bodies bleeding on the metal flooring.
“Tirv.”
With that, he shortly motioned his men back to the aft alcove of the bridge and arranged them for beaming. His men moved with silent practice. Their disruptors ever pointed toward the Starfleet crew. The captain produced his communicator.
Ellyson found herself smirking. The Klingon knew her name, had the audacity to scope her up. She wouldn’t leave this exchange empty-handed. “Not even going to tell a lady your name, Captain?”
He smirked back. Paused.
“La’ra.” He raised his comm again. “Ran’jar, dah nah cha akh, Hiv’laposh.”
“Ja’agh!”
The Klingon soldiers sizzled away in the swirling energies of their transporter field. As they dissolved from view, the captain looked back to the Cleo’s XO.
“You should leave immediately, Commander.”
And his party was gone.
Ellyson’s communicator was up in a flash.
“He’s destroying this ship! Let’s go!” She shouted to her crew. “Ellyson to Cleopatra! Beam all boarding parties back to the ship! Emergency!”
Sharp winced despite himself as the tiny crimson flare shot forth from the bow tube of the Klingon cruiser. The photon torpedo slammed into the Bird of Prey’s underbelly, having arced beneath the injured ship to get there. The raiding vessel seemed to implode in upon itself, shattering into an expanding storm of debris. Passing nebular gasses ignited and flared out on all sides from the conflagration. Cleopatra shuddered, thunder echoing.
When the fireworks expired, the battlecruiser was already turning, heading away from his ship. The dying fires lit the undercarriage of the passing craft, highlighting its markings. Sharp noted them, making a note to save the visual recordings from his viewer to help him ID that ship.
The science tech's voice seemed to echo against the seemingly still on the bridge.
“Klingons moving off. Accelerating to high impulse…going to warp.”
The captain’s hand fell to the intercom.
“Transporter. Report.”
“All teams back aboard and heading to decon.”
“Very well. Good work.”
The captain felt suddenly tired. The mission felt very much over for some reason. At the very least, the immediate dangers were dealt with. Once he’d seen the data recovered from the Bird of Prey, he could then decide what else needed to be done. Firstly, he wanted out of this nebula.
“Helm, get us out of here. Set a course for the nearest recon drone, full impulse.”
“Aye, sir.”
His ship responded swiftly, surely, as if on wires. She was a good ship. The sudden realization that this was his first mission in total command sank in on Sharp then. The feeling sank into his chest, sat on his heart and lungs. Cool, not cold. Stark and real, but not frightening. He pondered it.
Captain Jon Sharp found he liked what he felt.
Epilogue
The hatchway closed at Commander Ellyson’s heels and she presented the data pad forth with a snap. Captain Sharp looked up to her smile and rendered a reserved looking one of his own. He took the slim pad and gave it a glance. A communications dispatch from Command.
“Good news, Number One?”
“Very, sir. Constellation has reported on the Tirv threat.”
Sharp really didn’t want to pick through boring comm jargon to discern the details.
“And?”
“The Tirv fleet disengaged at the first sight of Decker’s task group. Seems they had no taste for fighting.”
“Or at least no taste for fighting a Constitution-class starship. I imagine those power readings look a bit formidable on scanner.”
Ellyson nodded agreement.
“I guess the Andorians on Thallus IV will get to sleep a little sounder. Which reminds me, Captain. Davenport and Ford nailed their assessment on the head.”
“I suppose they did, Commander. I’ll be sure to note it in the log.”
A short quiet passed between them. Sharp set aside the dispatch. When he looked up, his XO was looking back intently.
“Our next assignment?”
Sharp turned his desktop screen about to face her. The star map of the sector already had a red line showing where they were bound. It wouldn’t be glamorous.
“Glad I brought reading material, Captain.”
“You and me both, Commander.”
Sharp stood, ready to assume the bridge for a few hours, feel the captain’s chair beneath him. Ellyson paused, eyes still on the screen. She seemed all of a sudden concerned. Her large eyes rose to his.
“Captain…”
“What is it, XO?”
“How hard was it for Admiral Minton to convince you to take me on as XO?”
“What do you mean?”
“I know you contacted him when you had problems finding a PXO. I figured he had to sell me pretty hard…”
Sharp looked back at her. Her own uncertainty over the past did bother her, even if she’d put it behind her. He could have a long conversation with her now, to try and comfort her. Lie to her and make her feel better about herself. Or tell the truth and go the same route. He smirked at her.
“I asked him for his recommendations. Of the list he gave me, you were my first pick.”
It was a lie…or the truth, depending on how you looked at it.
It made her smile.
“You’re lying to me, aren’t you, Captain.”
“You’ll have to ask Minton to find out. Come on, First Officer. Let’s go mind the store.”
END
Topic: USS Cleopatra (Read 17091 times)