Strauss shook her head, trying to clear the ringing in her ears. She had a headache, a funny taste in her mouth, and felt like she might throw up, but she was alive!
She turned to survey the bridge, T'Ser was kneeling by the prone form of the captain. Strauss' blood turned cold.
"T'Ser! The captain - is he? . . ." asked Strauss, anxiously.
T'Ser looked up. "His pulse is strong, but he's unconscious. He may have a concussion. I've already contacted sickbay for a medical team."
Strauss, quickly rallied, and realized they were still in a potentially dagerous tactical situation. She shifted to command mode. "Status?"
Gralt fielded the question. "We're alive and the ship's intact. Thank the deities for that! The Klingon ship appears to be drifting for now, no weapons reading at present, although they still have power and life support."
"And Bluefin's status?" pressed Strauss.
Gralt winced as he turned in his chair, a pronounced bump was over one eye. "Do you want the good news or the bad news?"
Strauss breathed heavily. "Just give it all to me."
Gralt looked at a display at his station. "We've lost warp drive, which I anticipated. We also lost phasers - feedback from their energy weapon fried the emitters. Torpedoes are also off-line, navigational deflectors are operational but will need some work." He paused. "The good news - life support is fine and there are no hull breaches, although I bet we've got some minor damage to the hull here and there. The warp core is intact but the coils are damaged. We'll need two weeks in the ship yard to get those replaced. Communications are inoperative, but I can have that fixed in short order. Oh, and we have the secondary shields operating, but only at 40%. Impulse drive is fully operational."
A medical team, led by Dr. Baxter, exited the turbo-lift and moved quickly to the captain. Baxter favored Inga for a moment. "Commander Strauss, I presume? Calvin Baxter - sorry we have not had the chance to meet before." He knelt down and ran a medical scanner over Akinola.
Inga smiled weakly at the doctor. "We've both been kind of busy. How is he, doctor?"
Baxter regarded the scanner with a slight frown and grunted. "A concussion - third one this year!" He shook his head. "He'll be just fine commander. We'll get him down to sickbay for observation but he'll soon be as right as rain."
"Other casualties?" asked Struass.
"Only bumps and bruises so far." Baxter gave her a meaningful look. "We were very lucky!
Akinola moaned and his eyelids fluttered open and fixed on Baxter. He groaned, then spoke. "Well, since it's you, I must not be dead."
"No Joseph, once again you've been saved by your amazingly hard head," said Baxter.
Akinola tried to sit up, but Baxter prevented him. "Uh-uh-uh!, it's off to a bio-bed for you. Commander Strauss has matters well in hand."
The wave of nausea and dizziness that overwhelmed Akinola convinced him. He waved Strauss over. "Status?" he croaked.
"We're alive, intact and have minimal shields and impulse. Warp drive is down and so are weapons," replied Strauss.
"Okay . . . take care of the ship." he said in a raspy voice. He appeared to be losing consciousness again. "Don't forget the rocks, Inga . . ." Akinola slipped back into the arms of Morpheus. Baxter and two medics transported him off the bridge on an anti-grav gurney.
T'Ser looked at Struass, puzzled. "Rocks?"
"Probably the concussion," said Strauss. "Scan that other ship - I want to know if they're dead or getting prepared for another run."
T'Ser responded. "I just did - they are functioning, but their mains are off-line. I believe they may have maneuvering thrusters but no impulse or warp drive. As to weapons, they are all off-line at present and their shields are down tp 20%."
"life-signs?"
"There are 20 life signs on board. Some of these are fading, however. It appears they were less prepared for our barrage than we for theirs," said T'Ser.
Inga stared at the sinister image of the Bird-of-Prey hanging in space. "Well, we need to finish this. Can we beam over a boarding party?"
T'Ser shook her head. "No, even down to 20%, their shields will block our ability to use the transporter."
Strauss sat in the command chair. "Alright, we need a plan B."
******************************
The Klingon commander coughed and spat bright, pink blood onto the deck. The atmosphere was even thicker than normal with smoke from electrical fires. He quickly sought to assess the situation.
"Report!" He bellowed.
He received no reply at first, then the helmsman roused up from his board, blood oozing from a gash to his head. He blinked once, trying to focus his eyes, then spoke. "My Lord, we have lost warp drive and sub-light drives. Life support is fluctuating. Shields are down to 20%. We have maneuvering thrusters on stand-by."
The commander growled, "Weapons! What of our weapons?"
The helmsman staggered to the gunnery station, pushing his dead crewmate out of the seat. He took a moment to study the flickering displays and shook his head. "Phasers are gone - the emitters are fused. Of course, no torpedoes with the plasma cannon. And the cannon itself . . . " the helmsman peered at the unfamiliar readings, "is off-line but appears undamaged. However, the power conduits are damaged. We might be able to re-charge and fire a burst, but we may destroy ourselves in the process."
The commander simply sat still for a moment, his anger a smoldering ember. If only we had decent disruptors instead of those useless Orion phasers! , he thought. He turned to berate the Romulan agent for his foolish ruse and saw the spy, lying on the deck in a pool of green blood, a large piece of shrapnel jutting from his left eye.
"So!" he said to the corpse. "It is turning into a good day, after all!"
He turned back to the crewman. "What of the federation ship? Was it destroyed?"
The helmsman returned to his station. He banged his fist on his board. "The ship is intact!" he said, anger mixed with disbelief in his voice. "It is not possible!"
The commander nodded slowly, a thin smile on his face. "A worthy adversary, indeed," he said to himself. To the helmsman, he barked -"Their status, fool! What of their weapons? Their shields?"
The helmsman concentrated on his readouts. "Weapons are off-line. They have shields, but they are weakened - appear to be less than 50%. They are holding station at the moment."
"They probably want to negotiate terms for our surrender. " the commander said with a sneer. "Helmsman! Begin charging the plasma cannon!" He sat back in his chair. "There will be songs sung of our exploits!"
"Not if no one is alive to report it," muttered the helmsman to himself.
***********************************
"Commander? I'm reading an energy build-up on the Klingon vessel!" said T'Ser. "It appears that they are charging the energy weapon."
Strauss stood up. "Time until they can fire?"
T'Ser replied, "Best guess? With their damage, probably five minutes."
Strauss turned to Gralt. "Commander, is there any chance you can re-create the static subspace field again?"
Gralt shook his head. "No way. I had to use the warp coils to create the first one and they're fried. Our shields alone would not help at full strength, much less in their current depleted state."
Strauss turned again to T'Ser. "Could we outrun it?"
"Unlikely at impulse speeds. The burst would overtake us before we could get out of range."
Strauss said, "Then we've got to take them out first."
Gralt snorted, "Sure! We've got no phasers, no torpedoes. I know! We could threaten to write a nasty letter to the Klingon Chancellor!"
"Stow it, commander," said Strauss sharply. "I need options, now." She maintained her gaze at the screen, watching the Klingon vessel. As she did, a shadow passed over the hull of the other ship - a large asteroid drifting lazily through space. She suddenly heard the captain's voice in her head, " Don't forget the rocks, Inga. "
She whirled back toward Gralt. "Do we still have tractor beams?"
At first, Gralt looked confused. "Well, yes, but I don't see . . ." He paused, a look of realization coming over his face. "Deities! Yes!" He turned to his station, tapping switches, then turned back to Strauss. "We have full power on all four tractor beams."
Commander Strauss spoke tersely. "Commander Gralt, latch on to that asteroid and bring it our way . . . through that ship! Helm, prepare for evasive maneuvers - this may get hairy!"
********************************
The Klingon commander watched the Federation ship on his screen. He was somewhat disapointed that he could not contact them, that he could not see their faces when they realized that he, Krell of House K'Tinga, had beaten them.
"My Lord!" exclaimed the helmsman.
"What is it? Is the weapon charged?" asked Krell.
"The enemy vessel has engaged tractor beams!"
Krell frowned, "We do not appear to be caught in a tractor beam."
"Sir, the beams are not aimed at us!"
Realization suddenly hit the Klingon commander. "Thrusters, you fool! Move us, NOW!"
A proximity warning klaxon began to blare on the bridge of the Bird-of-Prey. The helmsman spoke, tonelessly, "Too late."
The 790 thousand metric ton asteroid was very small as asteroids were classified in the Molari Belt. It was much too small to receive its own designation on any star charts. The deflector shield of most capital ships would move it aside effortlessly. But it still had more mass than a Galaxy class starship and it ripped through the Klingon vessel, the collision creating an explosion that vaporized the small vessel and knocked several chunks of rock off the asteroid. The explosion flared briefly, then quickly dimmed, the asteroid continuing on its endless journey at the edge of Molari space.
*************************
Commander Strauss watched the asteroid annhilate the Bird-of-Prey as the Bluefin moved easily away from the blast effect and cloud of debris. She spoke softly, "Send us a card from Sto'Vo'Kor , you cold S.O.B."
****************************
Captain Joseph Akinola sat up in his bio-bed, eating a bowl of cherry vanilla ice cream. He looked up as Commander Strauss entered sickbay.
He began to speak, "Well, commander . . ."
Strauss began to speak, interruptin him. "Sir, damage control parties are at work and repairs are underway. Communciation are back up and shields are back to 100%. I have ordered us to make best speed out of the Molari Belt and rendezvous with the USS Matterhorn ."
"Commander? . . ."
"At which time, Captain Hastings will tow us back to the ship yard at Star Station Echo, ETA - four days. Gralt says that repairs should take . . ."
"Commander!"
Strauss stopped suddenly, embarrassed. She realized that she had been rambling, so intent on giving her report, that she had not responded to the captain.
Akinola looked at her, a smile in his eyes. "Nicely done, commander. Now, sit down before you fall down."
She looked down for a moment, slightly embarrassed, then took a seat on a stool by Akinola's bed. She realized how tired she was, now that the adrenaline rush had faded.
"Sorry, sir. I just wanted to make my report and get back to the bridge," she said.
"The bridge will still be there when you get back, commander. We have a good crew and they're busy doing their job. Let them," he said, gently. "T'Ser already stopped by and told me what happened. You showed good command presence and made the right decision under a tremendous amount of stress."
Strauss kept her gaze lowered. She could feel herself blush. "Sir, you were the one with the idea to use the tractors on an asteroid. I was slow on the uptake . . ."
"Bull!" Akinola said, suddenly, startling Strauss. "I didn't tell you what to do. I had a concussion and you heard me babbling about rocks. It was your initiative, commander, and your good assessment of the situation and the options. You used your officers and you used your wits. I know you were scared, hell, I was too!" He calmed down and looked at her. "Inga, you did well today. You still have a lot to learn about this ship and our mission, but I'm confident that you've got what it takes to serve on this ship. Now, would you like some ice-cream?"
Strauss stood up, now smiling. "Thank you sir, but I can't stand cherry vanilla ice cream. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to work."
Akinola feigned a hurt expression on his face, "Fine. See if I offer to share my ice cream again." He smiled back, "Go on commander. I'll see you later."
After Strauss left, Akinola pulled a computer screen to his bed. He contacted the ensign at communications and gave him instructions. Soon, the face of Chief Inspector Timothy McGrath appeared.
"Timothy, do you have any news for me?"
He nodded. "I do. But you realize that we cannot legally use this information in any Federation legal proceedings."
"Understood," said Akinola. "I have an idea about getting around that, though. Now, tell me what you've learned."
McGrath did.
*********************************
One month later . . .
Governor George Tarleck stood at the large windows of his oppulent office, overlooking the Red Mountains of Molari III. He was smoking a cigar made of the finest and most expensive Ferengi tobacco. A snifter of Saurian brandy was in his right hand. He was a large, corpulent man, wearing a finely tailored suit, as he surveyed his domain. He was also in a very good mood.
The deal he had brokered with the Klingon renegade, Krell, would cover the debts he owed the Orion Syndicate. His small part of the deal, luring a Federation asteroid breaker into a trap had been a simple matter. While there might be questions about why he had done so, he had plausible deniability about the ship's destruction. Regrettable, of course, was the loss of lives, but this was business. He cared not a bit for the Klingon's motives nor his "honor." In his mind, Krell was a loser, a Klingon privateer who had picked the wrong side in their short-lived civil war. What had interested Tarleck was the crates of gold-pressed latinum that Krell had delivered.
He had learned that Krell's ship had been destroyed out in the Belt. He figured that there was no way that he could be linked to the Klingon's activities and that he was free and clear.
Tarleck's reverie was interupted by a commotion at the door of his office.
"You can't go in without an appointment! . . ." Tarleck's assistant was saying.
Two men moved past the flustered secretary. One was a starfleet officer, the other, an all too familiar man.
"Inspector McGrath!" said Tarleck, "So nice of you to drop in. I see you're still getting your suits from re-manufactured replicators. Ms. Carlin, it's alright. You may go back to your desk."
The buxom secretary with the bright, purple hair, quickly closed the door. Traleck kept a forced smile on his face. "Can I offer you gentlemen any refreshments, coffee? perhaps something stonger? . . ."
McGrath and Akinola ignored the false hospitality. McGrath spoke first. "Governor Tarleck, we know that you were involved in the recent ambush and destruction of the USS Kilimanjaro and that you were involved in a conspiracy with a renegade Klingon to place blame on the Orion Syndicate."
Tarleck was not a man who spooked easily. He picked up a large, gold lighter from his desk and re-lit his cigar. "That's a pretty bold accusation, McGrath. But I doubt you have any real evidence to back that up. Besides, why would I want to do such a terrible thing?"
"Maybe to get the Syndicate off your back permanently," said the Starfleet officer, "by having us retaliate against them for apparently destroying one of our ships."
Tarleck kept his poker face, but that comment had found its mark. "And just who the hell are you?"
"Captain Joseph Akinola, commanding officer of the USS Bluefin ." The tall, dark-skinned human replied. "There were over 70 men and women from over a dozen worlds on the Kilimanjaro . Men and women who would lay down their lives to save your sorry butt if you were really in trouble. You set them up. They walked into your little trap, and now my colleagues and friends are dead," he said, ice in his voice, "Just so you could avoid paying off some gambling debts."
Tarleck snorted derisively. "You know, this is getting boring. I'm a busy man, so why don't you just go and peddle your fairy tales somewhere else!"
McGrath remained unperturbed. "It might interest you to know that I had a nice little chat with one of your emplyees, a Mr. M'butto. I must say, he was a bit hesitant to talk with me - at first. But with a bit of persuasion, he was quite talkative."
Tarleck's face went ashen. "That's inadmissable in any court in the Federation. My lawyers will have a field day and you both will be begging for a job in my mines when they're through with you," he said, spittle flying from his mouth.
McGrath regarded him as a cat might regard an interesting insect. "That IS true. Mr. M'butto's testimony is totally worthless to any legal proceedings, despite the damning nature of his testimony. Oh, I do have a recording, if you'd like to hear it," he offered.
Tarleck was off-balance, a position to which he was not accustomed. "Well . . . like you said - you've got no case!"
Akinola responded. "No. What was said was that we've no case under Federation law. That's true." He paused. "But Klingon law, well now . . . that's a different matter."
Tarleck's mouth went dry. "You can't . . .," he rasped.
"Oh, but I can!" said Akinola evenly. He tapped his comm badge. "Chief Brin, please send down our guests."
Momentarily, the shimmering effect of transporter energy appeared as three distinct columns. They quickly coalesced into three large Klingon warriors.
"Governor Tarleck, this is Lt. Trarn of the Imperial Klingon Defense Force, he and his two officers will escort you to Klingon space where you will be tried on charges of conspiracy to commit acts of treason against the Empire."
Tarleck was shaking with fear and rage. "You can't do this!" he screamed. "I'm a Federation citizen."
McGrath spoke. "That is true. However, you must know that there are aspects of our mutual-defense treaty that allows for very speedy extradition in such cases. Of course, your attorneys will have an opportunity to appeal to the Klingons, but . . . that may be a lengthy process. And I believe that your attorneys may be busy with other aspects of your business affairs."
The Klingon lieutenant moved forward and grabbed Tarleck roughly. He grinned menacingly. "Come now, governor, you may find that Rura Penthe is very nice this time of year."
******************************
Captain Akinola sat in his ready room with a steaming cup of coffee. On his screen was the image of Admiral Morgan Bateson.
"So, admiral, you agree that there was more to this than a stupid governor and a crazy, disgraced Klingon?"
On the screen, the admiral ran a hand over his thinning hair. "It would seem so. From what we could tell when we had the Bluefin in space dock, the faint energy traces seem to be consistent with what we know of Romulan plasma weapons."
Akinola shook his head. "It doesn't make sense, Admiral. The Romulans never do anything without a very good reason. What could they possibly have gained from this - our going to war with the Syndicate? I don't see how that works."
Bateson looked troubled. "I don't either. But if the Roms are involved in something on this side of the quadrant, you can bet it will mean more trouble for us."
Akinola gave a thin smile. "Semper Paratus, sir. We're always ready!"
Bateson smiled. "Thank God for that. Take care of yourself, captain. Bateson, out."
Akinola turned off the screen and picked up a piece of wood and a carving knife. While the piece was still in rough form, it was taking on the characteritic shape of an Everest class asteroid breaker.
************************************
"Tar'kilik was a valuable agent. The director is not pleased that he is dead."
The female Romulan operative inclined her head, acknowledging her superior. "It was a risky operation. The Klingon was too head-strong."
The supervisor steepled his fingers. "It was Tar'kilik who failed, not you T'Vash. You counseled against the plan."
"That is true. But if it had succeeded, we would have been in an excellent position to make our foray into the Badlands."
The supervisor frowned. "Never say, 'what if,' T'Vash. It is a bad habit and clouds your focus."
Another nod of the head. "As you say. What are your orders, commander?"
"It is imperative that we get assets into the heart of the Badlands - before the Federation or the Klingons discover what is hidden there." he paused. "It is time to utilize one of our sleeper agentss in the Federation."
T'Vash spoke, cautiously. "That is a great risk."
The supervisor nodded. "But sometimes, with great risk comes great reward!
END OF EPISODE ONE
The Bluefin has come to chew bubblegum and kick ass. Unfortunately, due to their lack of replicators, they appear to be all out of bubblegum.
Call me back when Akinola pimp slaps a Timelord, then we'll talk. 
Talk about a cliffhanger! Post, man... POST!
