Re: Part Four: Day of Reckoning
*****
USS Gibraltar
(Transporter Room)
As soon as the Meharry officers were beamed off the pad, Donald dismissed the Transporter Officer. After the man had left, the captain said to Pell Ojana. “Was it just me, or was there something off about the Meharry’s XO?”
The Bajoran’s nose ridges crinkled in thought. “I agree with you. She did seem…I don’t know…detached.”
“Yeah,” Sandhurst replied. He wasn’t sure if he should say anything to Captain M’Bira about it or not. Perhaps it was no big deal, or the Caitian was on top of it. He was certainly impressed by her capture of a whole crew of Alshain, even though Command had now charged him with bringing the prisoners to Starbase 116 for extradition.
“Donald, the Meharry’s just been through an ordeal,” Pell offered after a few minutes of pondering. “Everyone has different ways of coping with their burdens.”
“Yeah,” Donald said again, still troubled by the slightly vacant look in Commander Sidhani’s eyes. “I suppose so.”
“Captain M’Bira is more than capable of managing her officers,” Pell said. “How about you let her deal with it?”
“You’re right,” he said, laughing slightly. “Perhaps I was letting the senior officer thing go to my head.” Donald had beat M’Bira to the chair by several months which technically made him the senior flag officer. It wasn’t a position Sandhurst was used to, another captain deferring to him.
“You should be doubly glad I decided to stay onboard then,” Pell said, “Every balloon needs a needle sometimes.”
“Says the needle,” Sandhurst joked. Switching tracks, he asked. “So, where’s Lt. Glover?”
“Jasmine should still be in Engineering. She and Lt. Ashok are replicating materials to rebuild Meharry’s dilithium chamber. It was fused together during the Alshain ambush.”
“But she did agree to have dinner with us?” Sandhurst asked.
“Of course,” Pell said.
“I can’t believe I’m actually looking forward to having dinner with a person named Glover,” Donald remarked dryly.
“It’s a start,” the Bajoran replied. “Perhaps one day we can double date.”
“That would be the day,” Sandhurst laughed. Captain Terrence Glover, Jasmine’s husband wasn’t on Donald’s holiday card list, and the feeling was mutual.
“What do I have to do to change your mind?” Pell asked, a naughty tone in her voice.
“Oh, a few things come to mind,” Sandhurst grinned as he locked the woman in an embrace. Before he could kiss her, a red alert sounded.
****
USS Valour
Sector 443
“The Prowlers will overtake us in less than ten minutes,” the officer at the helm said, coughing seconds later after a tendril of smoke slithered into her lungs. Captain Kojo’s eyes stung, but she forced them to stay open.
She glared at the viewscreen. Its sensors were directed aft, at the ten Alshain Prowler interceptors behind them. Though the Prowlers had lighter armament than Howler interceptors, they were faster. And the shield nullifier the ships possessed more than made up for their lack of firepower. They had more than enough to carve up the Valour like lingta roast.
The captain tapped her combadge. “Westin,” she rasped. Before the Alshain set upon them like a rout of avenging Jat’lyn, Kojo had found time to put on one of her old uniforms. Neither the Alshain nor the Phalkerians had jettisoned their clothing or personal effects. It had disgusted the Kriosian to think the Phalkerians might make some use of them.
“On my way,” the man said, perfectly nonplussed as the ship was falling apart around them. Kojo restrained herself from laughing. The rest of the bridge crew wouldn’t understand the source of her amusement.
“Get here now!” Kojo commanded.
“Aye sir.” Westin answered. The ship trembled again.
“Another hit to our port side,” Lt. Meleek-Zar replied. “Our ablative armor has been boiled off that side. The portside of the ship is defenseless.”
“Damn,” Kojo said softly. She sent an evacuation command through her armrest terminal. Once the left side of the ship was vacant, she planned to seal it off just in case the Alshain managed to puncture the weakened hull there.
“Tactical, I want you to smear the blood of that petaQ all over the stars,” Kojo yelled.
“I love Klingon curses,” one of the bridge crew said, but she couldn’t see them through the billows of smoke. The fire suppressant system had malfunctioned an eternity ago. But even through the smoke, Kojo could see the shafts of energy lancing from the ship, and piercing the Alshain ship that had just struck Valour’s portside. Kojo crowed as the ship’s volley engulfed the smaller ship.
Almost a minute later Westin finally arrived. He roughly held the Phalkerian that had had been sitting in Kojo’s seat when she had retaken the Valour.
Westin pushed the man forward. The Phalkerian stumbled slightly before regaining his balance. He seemed unperturbed by the smoke or the heat from a couple new fires yet to be put out.
“I am Nardin sin Phalzan,” the Phalkerian said with an ample amount of haughtiness. “I demand you release me and my colleagues to Phalkerian authorities immediately.”
Kojo laughed so loudly her stomach hurt. “The Federation doesn’t have normalized relations with the Phalkerian Domain. There are no treaties, or extradition laws. Your people saw to that when you sat out the Dominion War.”
“We weren’t going to be used as fodder for more advanced nations,” sin Phalzan retorted.
“So, that’s what it’s all about, your part in all this,” Kojo said, absently rubbing her chin. “You want to be one of the big targs.”
Nardin smoothed his blue-black tunic. “Yes, we do.”
“Well, you’ll never live to see that day unless you help us now,” the Kriosian warned.
“Starfleet officers don’t murder prisoners,” sin Phalzan sneered.
“I’m not your typical Starfleet officer,” Kojo said with as much malice as she could muster. The confident smirk on the Phalkerian’s face slowly faded. He looked nervously at Westin. The young man nodded.
“What exactly do you wish Captain?”
“Do you know anything about the weapon the Alshain are using to nullify our shields? Their ships didn’t possess this technology in the Briar Patch, so I’m wondering if you had something to do with it. Perhaps the Phalkerians are more than what they claim to be.”
Before Westin could react, the Phalkerian pushed him. The human flew against a bulkhead, slamming into it with a sickening thud. Sin Phalzan moved quickly, pinning Kojo’s arms as he leaned close to her ear. “By the time you figure that out, it’ll be too late for you.” He laughed, opening his mouth wide so that the captain could watch as his thick, purplish tongue dislodged an artificial tooth. He swallowed the tooth and whatever was inside it.
Kojo turned her head as the Phalkerian’s now fetid breath gushed out of him. He pitched forward, falling on the woman. She threw the heavy corpse off her.
“Security,” she quickly tapped her combadge, “Secure all of the Phalkerian prisoners. Scan them, particularly their mouths for artificial teeth and suicide capsules.” Waiting on a response, Kojo rushed to check on Westin. The man was stirring, mumbling nonsense. It looked like he might live, though he would need medical attention.
“Captain,” the voice squeaked. “All of the Phalkerians are dead.”
****
*****
USS Gibraltar
(Transporter Room)
As soon as the Meharry officers were beamed off the pad, Donald dismissed the Transporter Officer. After the man had left, the captain said to Pell Ojana. “Was it just me, or was there something off about the Meharry’s XO?”
The Bajoran’s nose ridges crinkled in thought. “I agree with you. She did seem…I don’t know…detached.”
“Yeah,” Sandhurst replied. He wasn’t sure if he should say anything to Captain M’Bira about it or not. Perhaps it was no big deal, or the Caitian was on top of it. He was certainly impressed by her capture of a whole crew of Alshain, even though Command had now charged him with bringing the prisoners to Starbase 116 for extradition.
“Donald, the Meharry’s just been through an ordeal,” Pell offered after a few minutes of pondering. “Everyone has different ways of coping with their burdens.”
“Yeah,” Donald said again, still troubled by the slightly vacant look in Commander Sidhani’s eyes. “I suppose so.”
“Captain M’Bira is more than capable of managing her officers,” Pell said. “How about you let her deal with it?”
“You’re right,” he said, laughing slightly. “Perhaps I was letting the senior officer thing go to my head.” Donald had beat M’Bira to the chair by several months which technically made him the senior flag officer. It wasn’t a position Sandhurst was used to, another captain deferring to him.
“You should be doubly glad I decided to stay onboard then,” Pell said, “Every balloon needs a needle sometimes.”
“Says the needle,” Sandhurst joked. Switching tracks, he asked. “So, where’s Lt. Glover?”
“Jasmine should still be in Engineering. She and Lt. Ashok are replicating materials to rebuild Meharry’s dilithium chamber. It was fused together during the Alshain ambush.”
“But she did agree to have dinner with us?” Sandhurst asked.
“Of course,” Pell said.
“I can’t believe I’m actually looking forward to having dinner with a person named Glover,” Donald remarked dryly.
“It’s a start,” the Bajoran replied. “Perhaps one day we can double date.”
“That would be the day,” Sandhurst laughed. Captain Terrence Glover, Jasmine’s husband wasn’t on Donald’s holiday card list, and the feeling was mutual.
“What do I have to do to change your mind?” Pell asked, a naughty tone in her voice.
“Oh, a few things come to mind,” Sandhurst grinned as he locked the woman in an embrace. Before he could kiss her, a red alert sounded.
****
USS Valour
Sector 443
“The Prowlers will overtake us in less than ten minutes,” the officer at the helm said, coughing seconds later after a tendril of smoke slithered into her lungs. Captain Kojo’s eyes stung, but she forced them to stay open.
She glared at the viewscreen. Its sensors were directed aft, at the ten Alshain Prowler interceptors behind them. Though the Prowlers had lighter armament than Howler interceptors, they were faster. And the shield nullifier the ships possessed more than made up for their lack of firepower. They had more than enough to carve up the Valour like lingta roast.
The captain tapped her combadge. “Westin,” she rasped. Before the Alshain set upon them like a rout of avenging Jat’lyn, Kojo had found time to put on one of her old uniforms. Neither the Alshain nor the Phalkerians had jettisoned their clothing or personal effects. It had disgusted the Kriosian to think the Phalkerians might make some use of them.
“On my way,” the man said, perfectly nonplussed as the ship was falling apart around them. Kojo restrained herself from laughing. The rest of the bridge crew wouldn’t understand the source of her amusement.
“Get here now!” Kojo commanded.
“Aye sir.” Westin answered. The ship trembled again.
“Another hit to our port side,” Lt. Meleek-Zar replied. “Our ablative armor has been boiled off that side. The portside of the ship is defenseless.”
“Damn,” Kojo said softly. She sent an evacuation command through her armrest terminal. Once the left side of the ship was vacant, she planned to seal it off just in case the Alshain managed to puncture the weakened hull there.
“Tactical, I want you to smear the blood of that petaQ all over the stars,” Kojo yelled.
“I love Klingon curses,” one of the bridge crew said, but she couldn’t see them through the billows of smoke. The fire suppressant system had malfunctioned an eternity ago. But even through the smoke, Kojo could see the shafts of energy lancing from the ship, and piercing the Alshain ship that had just struck Valour’s portside. Kojo crowed as the ship’s volley engulfed the smaller ship.
Almost a minute later Westin finally arrived. He roughly held the Phalkerian that had had been sitting in Kojo’s seat when she had retaken the Valour.
Westin pushed the man forward. The Phalkerian stumbled slightly before regaining his balance. He seemed unperturbed by the smoke or the heat from a couple new fires yet to be put out.
“I am Nardin sin Phalzan,” the Phalkerian said with an ample amount of haughtiness. “I demand you release me and my colleagues to Phalkerian authorities immediately.”
Kojo laughed so loudly her stomach hurt. “The Federation doesn’t have normalized relations with the Phalkerian Domain. There are no treaties, or extradition laws. Your people saw to that when you sat out the Dominion War.”
“We weren’t going to be used as fodder for more advanced nations,” sin Phalzan retorted.
“So, that’s what it’s all about, your part in all this,” Kojo said, absently rubbing her chin. “You want to be one of the big targs.”
Nardin smoothed his blue-black tunic. “Yes, we do.”
“Well, you’ll never live to see that day unless you help us now,” the Kriosian warned.
“Starfleet officers don’t murder prisoners,” sin Phalzan sneered.
“I’m not your typical Starfleet officer,” Kojo said with as much malice as she could muster. The confident smirk on the Phalkerian’s face slowly faded. He looked nervously at Westin. The young man nodded.
“What exactly do you wish Captain?”
“Do you know anything about the weapon the Alshain are using to nullify our shields? Their ships didn’t possess this technology in the Briar Patch, so I’m wondering if you had something to do with it. Perhaps the Phalkerians are more than what they claim to be.”
Before Westin could react, the Phalkerian pushed him. The human flew against a bulkhead, slamming into it with a sickening thud. Sin Phalzan moved quickly, pinning Kojo’s arms as he leaned close to her ear. “By the time you figure that out, it’ll be too late for you.” He laughed, opening his mouth wide so that the captain could watch as his thick, purplish tongue dislodged an artificial tooth. He swallowed the tooth and whatever was inside it.
Kojo turned her head as the Phalkerian’s now fetid breath gushed out of him. He pitched forward, falling on the woman. She threw the heavy corpse off her.
“Security,” she quickly tapped her combadge, “Secure all of the Phalkerian prisoners. Scan them, particularly their mouths for artificial teeth and suicide capsules.” Waiting on a response, Kojo rushed to check on Westin. The man was stirring, mumbling nonsense. It looked like he might live, though he would need medical attention.
“Captain,” the voice squeaked. “All of the Phalkerians are dead.”
****
...the odds are not good for the old Connie. But what's new?
Run, Sandy, run like... like... a really lethargic low-warp wind!
