Nassir, unmoved by the Klingon’s display of indignation, replied in a calm, even voice, “I don’t believe that’s what I said, Commander. What I requested was the record you or someone else surely sent to your superiors, who in turn would have relayed that information to your diplomatic envoys for transmittal to their counterparts within our Federation Diplomatic Corps. This procedure was put into place when it became apparent that both our governments expressed interest in exploring the Taurus Reach, so that incidents such as this apparent and unfortunate miscommunication might be avoided.”
Standing at the rear of the bridge, Terrell forced himself not to smile. The captain was known for his enjoyment of spirited debate on a vast array of topics, and relished laying oratorical traps for any opponent foolish enough to accept his challenge.
“Somehow,” Terrell whispered, his words audible only to Theriault, “I don’t think this guy’s in the mood for cunning wordplay.” A quick look over the shoulder of Lieutenant Commander Bridget McLellan at the information displayed on her tactical console told him that both the Sagittariusand the Klingon scout ship had raised their defensive shields, but he felt a twinge in his gut as he noted that only the enemy vessel’s weapons were powered.
I hate when that happens.
On the viewscreen, the Klingon—Terrell realized for the first time that he did not even know the commander’s name—said, “I am not a diplomat, Captain, nor am I a custodian of administrative minutiae. I follow the orders of my superiors, who directed me to this world which the Empire has claimed. If you wish to dispute that, then you may address your grievances to whichever bloated sack of useless skin and meat oversees such matters. For now, you are trespassing. Remove your vessel from orbit above this world and leave this system.”He paused, his stern expression fading even as his eyes seemed to go flat. “I will not ask again.”
“Captain,” McLellan called out from the tactical station, “their weapons are targeting us.”
Theriault gasped. “They can’t be serious.”
“You don’t know Klingons,” Terrell countered, stepping into the command well and taking up a position behind McLellan. Another reading of her console’s status displays and other gauges was enough to bring him up to speed. According to the sensors, the Klingon ship and the Sagittariusappeared to be evenly matched.
“Commander,” Nassir said after a moment, his stance unwavering as he maintained his gaze on the Klingon, “there’s no need for violence today. We already know from your landing party’s actions on the planet’s surface that the superiors to whom you’ve pledged your allegiance also wish to avoid such actions.”
“My superiors are not here,”the Klingon replied, before snapping his fingers. In response to his unspoken command, the communications channel dissolved into static. The image on the viewscreen shifted to that of the compact yet still formidable-looking Klingon scout vessel.
“That’s not good,” Theriault said, already moving toward the science station.
A Red Alert siren wailed across the Sagittarius’s compact bridge, and McLellan jolted in her seat, her head snapping to look first at Terrell and then at Nassir. “They’re locking weapons, and I’m picking up energy surges in their forward disruptors.”
“Full power to forward shields and weapons,” Nassir said, his voice hardening for the first time since Terrell had arrived on the bridge. “Stand by for evasive.”
“Ready, Captain,” replied Lieutenant zh’Firro at the helm, her fingers moving across her console and inputting the commands to carry out the captain’s orders.
“Incoming!” McLellan called out. “Brace for impact!” She barely had time to give the warning before something slammed into the ship. Despite the deflector shields and the internal damping systems, Terrell still felt the deck shift beneath his feet and he reached for the back of McLellan’s chair to steady himself.
“Initiating evasive!” shouted zh’Firro from the helm even as Nassir was giving the order. On the screen, the image of the Klingon ship disappeared as the Sagittariusveered away, clawing for maneuvering room.
Bracing against the science station, Nassir looked to McLellan. “Damage report!”
The second officer shook her head. “Shields are holding. All systems operational.” A beep from her console made her frown. “They’re coming after us!”
“Of course they are,” Nassir said, and Terrell heard the resignation in the other man’s voice as the captain made his way back to the command chair. “Lock weapons and prepare to return fire. Sayna, give me a tactical plot.” In response to his order, the main viewscreen changed again, this time to a computer-generated map showing the positions of the Sagittariusand the Klingon ship in relation to each other as well as Traelus II and even the planet’s pair of moons. Text scrolled down the screen’s right side, indicating distances, speeds, power levels, and damage.
It also displayed the second barrage of disruptor fire as the Klingon vessel fired again. Terrell gripped the back of McLellan’s chair again, but this time zh’Firro’s piloting skills prevented another strike against the ship’s shields.
“Nice flying, Sayna,” Nassir said, maintaining his trademark composure. “Bridy Mac, how about giving our friends a taste of their own medicine?”
“Aye, Skipper,” McLellan replied, not waiting for additional instructions before her fingers tapped the firing controls on her tactical console. The bridge lights dimmed as power was drawn from other systems by the ship’s phaser emitters, and Terrell looked up to see the information displayed on the main viewer’s tactical schematic being updated to account for the damage inflicted on the Klingon ship’s defensive shields.
“Continue firing!” Nassir ordered, and McLellan repeated the attack sequence.
Despite the erratic maneuvers being effected by the pilots of both vessels, Terrell noted from the information on the viewer that the second officer was still able to land another strike on the other ship’s shields. Then the Klingon ship fired again, and everything around Terrell bucked, shuddered, and groaned in protest. Lighting and console screens flickered in response to the assault, and Terrell was sure he even heard the hum of the ship’s engines shift in protest.
“Multiple hits!” McLellan called out over the renewed chorus of alarms sounding across the bridge. “Aft shields are down, and I’m picking up hull damage near engineering!”
“Get me some space, Sayna!” Nassir said. “And stop showing them our ass!”
Pointing to McLellan’s tactical console and the sensor schematic of the Klingon vessel displayed upon it, Terrell said, “Target phasers here and here.” He traced a finger over the readout, where the scout ship’s warp nacelles were joined to the hull. “That’s where the shielding and armor is weakest on this design.”
McLellan nodded. “Got it. Sensors say the same thing.” To zh’Firro she said, “Sayna, bring us about to heading 137 mark 91. I just need a few seconds.”
On the viewer, Terrell saw the red circle indicating the Klingon ship gaining on the blue arrowhead depicting the Sagittarius,the distance between the two vessels closing with even greater speed as zh’Firro carried out McLellan’s instructions. It took him a moment to realize he was holding his breath when the second officer’s fingers stabbed at the firing controls, and he felt the reverberation channeled through the deck plates beneath his boots as the weapons systems unleashed their hellish power.
Seconds later, McLellan slammed a fist down on her console. “Yes! Their starboard shields are down.”
At the science station, Theriault said, “Sensors are detecting fluctuations in their propulsion system, and I’m also picking up damage to their forward disruptor array.” Then she turned from her console and regarded Nassir. “They’re moving off, sir.”