I took this out and dusted it off recently. I figured I'd repost it, as it's one of my favorites.
THE LAST MAN
June 2372 - New Kolma City, Tzenketh - United Federation of Planets Diplomatic Compound
The pillars of black smoke rose into the heavens, casting an otherwise cloudless orange sky with a dull pall of grey. It was the season for power struggles in this imperial capital, and the old saying advised that Tzenkethi internal strife never stayed internal. Today, it seemed, would be no different.
The first attack on the Federation embassy had come less than an hour earlier. A squadron of corsairs laden with shock troops had attempted to breach the embassy’s perimeter, only to find that the Starfleet security detachment was more than sufficiently prepared. The smoldering remains of several of the corsairs littered the grassy savanna that abutted the UFP compound, testament to the power of isomagnetic disintigrators and the aim of Federation Marines and Starfleet security personnel.
Seemingly random attacks on foreign embassies were nothing new on this planet. Every time the ruling autarch was overthrown, political instability invariably led to chaos, and those who’d grasped the reigns of power liked to distract the fickle Tzenkethi public by shifting the focus of their frustrations on ‘meddlesome offwolders.’ That usually ended up being the representatives of a handful of governments who were brave, stupid, or persistent enough to have maintained a diplomatic mission on Tzenketh.
Federation Marine Major Su’Od Mubak, a three-armed, three-legged Edosian, stood like a battle-ready weapon’s tripod in the center of the anarchy, directing the evacuation of personnel to the awaiting shuttlecraft. He had beamed down from the rescue ship in orbit and was coordinating by comlink with the Starfleet security lieutenant in command of the compound's defense contingent. The first wave of the evacuation had been handled by transporter, the civilian dependants beamed up to the awaiting starship Crazy Horse.
The Tzenkethi attackers, a mishmash of standing military units, home-guard soldiers, and civilian enthusiasts, had eventually activated a transport inhibitor field to prevent further beaming. That had cost the lives of eight Federation civilians, three of them children, their atoms scattered by the field and unrecoverable by the horrified transporter operators. The remainder of the evacuation would have to be carried out by shuttlecraft ferrying personnel to orbit, threading a gauntlet of Tzenkethi military aircraft and attack satellites that hadn’t yet been neutralized by the Crazy Horse’s weapons.
As he looked through his hardened combat binoculars, the lieutenant perched atop the embassy’s highest peak watched the systematic destruction of the diplomatic compound closest to their own, a mere five kilometers distant. Centuries old plasma artillery cannons had been pulled from their embrasures in local museums or from the warehouses of enthusiast clubs and had been arrayed throughout the parkland that separated the city proper from the diplomatic zone. The gunners manning those ancient weapons were busy excitedly blasting apart the Ferengi embassy and its adjoining housing compound.
The lieutenant whistled appreciatively as a volley of plasma rounds obliterated the base of the embassy’s grand spire, an homage to the Ferengi Commerce Authority’s mighty tower on Ferenginar. The majestic spire toppled slowly and crashed to earth amidst the low domes that housed the majority of their personnel. The overly humidified domes recreated the misty, rainy ecosphere of their native homeworld. Now rent asunder by artillery and the falling tower, sinuous ribbons of steam boiled into the air, mixing with the tendrils of black smoke that wafted skyward.
The lieutenant chuckled darkly and mused, “They’re really giving it to the Lobes. Those poor little trolls thought a handful of Nausicaan mercenaries were going to protect them.”
“They didn’t fight?” a security ensign asked meekly, understanding that the UFP’s compound would be next on their list.
“Oh, they tried,” the lieutenant elaborated. “But the Nausicaan tactic of head-on confrontation doesn’t work so well against enraged three meter tall felines in battle armor.” He shook his head in mock disbelief, “I don’t even think the Nausicaans have a word for defense in their language.”
Seeing something in his oculars, the lieutenant shifted his gaze to the built-in tricorder display overlaying the visual image. “Here we go, four more bogies inbound from the southeast. I’m relaying coordinates and vectors. Bring turrets four, five, seven and nine to bear.”
“Aye, sir,” affirmed the ensign, plugging away at his compact portable console. The embassy’s automated defense turrets responded as ordered, and rotated to meet the incoming enemy.
“They’re not even shielded, the dumb bastards,” the lieutenant commented disdainfully. “The new autarch must be thinning the ranks.” It was commonly known that the newly ascended autarch would send military units whose loyalty appeared questionable into battle against the foreigners, often denying them proper defenses or suitable tactics in order to whittle down their numbers from enemy attrition.
“Mubak to Lar’ragos,” the lieutenant’s compin came to life. “We’ve got two more shuttle’s filled to capacity and ready to launch. After they’re gone, it’ll just be us in the rear guard to exfil.”
Tapping his communicator, Lieutenant Pava Lar’ragos answered curtly, “Acknowledged, Major. We’ve got airborne threats coming in from the southeast and we’re preparing to engage them. This may be a ruse to cover an attack from another quarter, so give my people and me a few minutes to sound the all clear before sending them up.”
“Copy that.”
“Engage on my mark…” The Lar'ragos waited until he could make out the details of the heavily laden Tzenkethi Howler-class bombers. “Mark!”
A flurry of phaser pulses and micro-torpedoes reached out with pinpoint precision and snatched the aircraft from the sky. Lar’ragos shook his head, “Such a goddamn waste, all this death because some prissy blueblood wanted a bigger chair.” He keyed the security net comlink, “Everyone keep your eyes peeled for other activity. Maintain 360-degree awareness.”
Sixty seconds passed without any further threat contact, and Lar’ragos gave the go head to launch the shuttles. Their shields at full, the craft rose from the landing platform and pierced the invisible defense screen that established a protective bubble over the Federation facility. The Ferengi had apparently thought such an investment of resources was not sufficiently profitable, and were now reaping the consequences of that decision.
A series of brilliant orange streaks flashed through the sky overhead; tiny explosions blossomed in their wake somewhere up in the planet’s stratosphere. Lar'ragos' TacNet frequency crackled from his compin, “Crazy Horse to Detachment Alpha, we’ve intercepted a flight of trans-atmospheric bombers heading your way. We have your shuttles on sensors and will be assuming overwatch.”
“Detachment Alpha copies, Crazy Horse. Many thanks.”
A series of thunderous flashes caught their attention, and both men turned to see an enormous cloud of debris rising up from where the Ferengi compound had been only seconds earlier.
Muttering a curse in El Aurian, Lar’ragos scrambled down from his perch. “Let’s go, Ensign. They’re through frinxing around with museum pieces and just brought out the big guns.” On his way to the tower’s doorway, Lar’ragos set the defense turret system to automatic. As he pushed the junior officer through the door and into the stairwell ahead of him, Lar’ragos flinched as the first photon mortar rounds from the newly arrived assault hover platforms began to impact the embassy’s defensive screens. “All hands, this is Lar’ragos, prepare to repel Tzenkethi entry teams. They’ll start beaming in as soon as our shield collapses.”
The ensign grabbed the stairway’s safety railing as the structure shook, and was unable to keep the terror out of his voice as he asked, “They’re going to assault the embassy? Won’t they just bomb us flat like they did the Ferengi?”
“No,” Lar’ragos bounced off the wall of the first stairwell landing as the building jolted, “They only blasted the Ferengi because they weren’t worthy of the Tzenkethi’s time or effort. These guys like to toy with their prey; they like a challenge. And we’re the only ones in the neighborhood fighting back.”
Dust rained down from atop exposed pipes and conduits in the stairwell as the overhead shields rebuffed another salvo of photons. “The Klingons don’t fight back?”
“They don’t screw with the Klingons anymore, kid.” Lar'ragos huffed as they reached the lowest level. The two scrambled through a pressure door into one of the compound’s now empty streets. “They pulled this crap on the Empire about two hundred years ago.”
“And?” the ensign pressed as they made a mad dash for the landing field under an umbrella of strobing fire.
“And that’s why they call their capital New Kolma City, Ensign.”
“Oh,” was the young man’s only reply through ragged breaths as they sprinted into the innermost courtyard of the embassy.
The last shuttle, packed with Marines and security personnel, was preparing for takeoff. The Edosian major, Mubak, waved them towards the craft with one hand as he cradled an isomagnetic disintegrator in his other two. “Last flight out, people,” he bellowed. “Move with purpose!”
Inexplicably, Lar’ragos skidded to a stop just short of the shuttle’s ramp. He glanced back towards the spire from which he’d just descended. Mubak followed his gaze, and his eyes narrowed in displeasure as he caught sight of Pava’s omission. “You didn’t,” he said, the accusatory tone in his voice unmistakable.
“I did,” Lar’ragos replied heavily. “Shit.”
“You’d better do something about it,” Mubak snarled. “Neither of us will live it down otherwise.”
Lar’ragos reached into the shuttle and grabbed a phaser rifle from one of his security officers. He turned to Mubak, “Give me five minutes.”
“And not a second more,” the Edosian confirmed as Lar’ragos sprinted back down the street towards the base of the tower.
As he cursed his own stupidity and stormed back up the trembling stairwell, Lar’ragos reflected that his detached assignment from Starfleet to the Diplomatic Corps was not concluding exactly as he’d anticipated. Shipboard duty had become so dry, so tiresome of late, and he’d thought a special assignment like diplomatic security would offer new challenges. Well, that part he’d at least got right, and the thought caused him to smile grimly as he pounded up the final flight of stairs.
Just as he reached the door a horrendous impact threw him off his feet and sent him tumbling backwards down the stairs to the next landing, amid a cascade of shattered concrete and par-steel. He opened his eyes to find himself staring at the naked sky, the entire top of the tower had been blown away by the same salvo that had decimated their protective forcefield.
Lar'ragos pulled himself out from beneath a pile of rubble. He coughed at the lingering cloud of dust as he searched frantically for his phaser rifle. Then his sensitive ears made out the sound of a transporter field engaging somewhere in close proximity. He abandoned the weapon and drew his phaser pistol sidearm. Lar'ragos set it to maximum, well aware that he’d need such firepower if he were unlucky enough to encounter any Tzenkethi during his quest.
He exited the door at the base of the tower moments later, then ducked behind a large piece of shattered masonry as a hulking Tzenkethi soldier rounded the corner. The felinoids were closely related to the Caitians, and were widely recognized as being their larger, meaner, more barbarous cousins. Only the lack of advanced military technology and their own constant political infighting had kept the Tzenkethi from carving out a bigger interstellar empire for themselves than the paltry thirty odd star systems they now laid claim to.
Lar’ragos stifled the chill that threatened to run through his frame at the sight of the soldier, so similar in size to the Hirogen that had hounded him for nearly a decade in the Delta Quadrant. He squeezed himself as tightly as he could into a gap between the broken blocks of cement and waited until the armored behemoth had passed.
He withdrew his tricorder and adjusted it to detect a very specific signature. He set out and began his hunt through the assorted rubble felled from the top of the tower. Lar’ragos approached a low, heavily fortified building, and was still scanning the vicinity when his eyes caught sight of the sign. It was the embassy’s auxiliary power station. ‘A brief detour couldn’t hurt…’ he mused as he used his security override to disengage the locks on the shielded door.
Moments later, he emerged to resume his search. As he passed through the door and re-engaged the lock, his communications earpiece began to squawk. Within the shielded building, comms had been cut off. “Mubak to Lar’ragos, do you read me? Lar’ragos, if you can hear me, we’re taking fire at the landing pad, and we’ve been forced to launch. We’ll be making two circuits of the embassy compound before rendezvousing with Crazy Horse. If you can signal us, we’ll pick you up. If not… may you die well, Lieutenant.”
Lar’ragos tersely acknowledged the transmission and informed Mubak that he’d still not recovered the quarry. The major grudgingly gave him another two minutes grace; the tumult in the background of the conversation convinced Lar'ragos that the shuttle was taking heavy fire.
His tricorder suddenly alerted him to the presence of the specified material, and Lar’ragos moved to the location indicated and sank to his knees. He clawed through dirt, rubble, and dust with his bare hands. Joy and relief swelled in his chest as his hands gained purchase on the object, and he pulled it free and stuffed it inside his uniform jacket just as his instincts alerted him to a new and unexpected presence behind him.
Not pausing to look first, Lar’ragos launched himself sideways, and performed a shoulder roll while drawing his phaser. He depressed the trigger control as he came up into a crouch, and sent a concentrated phaser blast into the two Tzenkethi soldiers that had been stalking him.
The burly warriors screeched piteously as they were incinerated in less than a second. Their scorched but still intact armor clattered to the ground as their molecules vacated the protective cocoons.
Lar’ragos caught sight of the shuttle as it crested one of the compound’s apartment blocks, and the lieutenant double-tapped his compin to indicate that he was ready for rescue. The craft flared out for an abrupt landing and dropped its shields just long enough to lower the rear ramp hatch halfway. The shuttle made a tempting target for Tzenkethi gunners as it skimmed the ground at a half meter, but the pilot bravely held position until Lar'ragos had jumped up and pulled himself inside with the assistance of the other passengers in the rear compartment.
The pilot tipped the shuttle on its tail, and the craft rocketed into the sky, trailed by plasma pulses and no fewer than five missiles. The small vessel’s shields took the brunt of the attack, but as the ship raced for orbit, it was suddenly buffeted by a shockwave from a tremendous explosion. As the shaking finally subsided, Mubak moved into the cockpit to train the sensors on the surface. There he saw the telltale mushroom cloud of a fusion explosion rising into the air above what had been the Federation embassy compound.
As he stepped back into the crowded passenger compartment, Mubak fixed a dark look on Lar’ragos. “Care to explain how and why the compound just experienced a three megaton explosion, Lieutenant?”
Lar’ragos looked perplexed as he offered, “One of the fusion reactors must have taken a direct hit, Major. How terrible for the Tzenkethi, though. There must have been hundreds of their soldiers crawling over the place when it happened.”
The ensign frowned, “That shouldn’t be possible, sirs. There are more than twelve independent safety overrides to prevent such an expl—“
“Shut up, Ensign” Lar’ragos and Mubak ordered in unison. The ensign blushed and fell silent as the Edosian sidled closer to the El Aurian lieutenant. “Did you manage to find it while you were running amok down there?”
“As a matter of fact…” Lar'ragos reached into his uniform jacket and withdrew a tattered and burned but nonetheless intact flag of the United Federation of Planets. It had been flying atop the embassy tower prior to the structure being blasted. He held the flag aloft between his hands and gave Mubak an inscrutable look as he murmured, “Qapla'.”
Mubak turned to the rest of the Marines and security officers crammed into the back of the shuttle and gestured to Lar’ragos. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the last man off Tzenketh.”
THE LAST MAN
June 2372 - New Kolma City, Tzenketh - United Federation of Planets Diplomatic Compound
The pillars of black smoke rose into the heavens, casting an otherwise cloudless orange sky with a dull pall of grey. It was the season for power struggles in this imperial capital, and the old saying advised that Tzenkethi internal strife never stayed internal. Today, it seemed, would be no different.
The first attack on the Federation embassy had come less than an hour earlier. A squadron of corsairs laden with shock troops had attempted to breach the embassy’s perimeter, only to find that the Starfleet security detachment was more than sufficiently prepared. The smoldering remains of several of the corsairs littered the grassy savanna that abutted the UFP compound, testament to the power of isomagnetic disintigrators and the aim of Federation Marines and Starfleet security personnel.
Seemingly random attacks on foreign embassies were nothing new on this planet. Every time the ruling autarch was overthrown, political instability invariably led to chaos, and those who’d grasped the reigns of power liked to distract the fickle Tzenkethi public by shifting the focus of their frustrations on ‘meddlesome offwolders.’ That usually ended up being the representatives of a handful of governments who were brave, stupid, or persistent enough to have maintained a diplomatic mission on Tzenketh.
Federation Marine Major Su’Od Mubak, a three-armed, three-legged Edosian, stood like a battle-ready weapon’s tripod in the center of the anarchy, directing the evacuation of personnel to the awaiting shuttlecraft. He had beamed down from the rescue ship in orbit and was coordinating by comlink with the Starfleet security lieutenant in command of the compound's defense contingent. The first wave of the evacuation had been handled by transporter, the civilian dependants beamed up to the awaiting starship Crazy Horse.
The Tzenkethi attackers, a mishmash of standing military units, home-guard soldiers, and civilian enthusiasts, had eventually activated a transport inhibitor field to prevent further beaming. That had cost the lives of eight Federation civilians, three of them children, their atoms scattered by the field and unrecoverable by the horrified transporter operators. The remainder of the evacuation would have to be carried out by shuttlecraft ferrying personnel to orbit, threading a gauntlet of Tzenkethi military aircraft and attack satellites that hadn’t yet been neutralized by the Crazy Horse’s weapons.
As he looked through his hardened combat binoculars, the lieutenant perched atop the embassy’s highest peak watched the systematic destruction of the diplomatic compound closest to their own, a mere five kilometers distant. Centuries old plasma artillery cannons had been pulled from their embrasures in local museums or from the warehouses of enthusiast clubs and had been arrayed throughout the parkland that separated the city proper from the diplomatic zone. The gunners manning those ancient weapons were busy excitedly blasting apart the Ferengi embassy and its adjoining housing compound.
The lieutenant whistled appreciatively as a volley of plasma rounds obliterated the base of the embassy’s grand spire, an homage to the Ferengi Commerce Authority’s mighty tower on Ferenginar. The majestic spire toppled slowly and crashed to earth amidst the low domes that housed the majority of their personnel. The overly humidified domes recreated the misty, rainy ecosphere of their native homeworld. Now rent asunder by artillery and the falling tower, sinuous ribbons of steam boiled into the air, mixing with the tendrils of black smoke that wafted skyward.
The lieutenant chuckled darkly and mused, “They’re really giving it to the Lobes. Those poor little trolls thought a handful of Nausicaan mercenaries were going to protect them.”
“They didn’t fight?” a security ensign asked meekly, understanding that the UFP’s compound would be next on their list.
“Oh, they tried,” the lieutenant elaborated. “But the Nausicaan tactic of head-on confrontation doesn’t work so well against enraged three meter tall felines in battle armor.” He shook his head in mock disbelief, “I don’t even think the Nausicaans have a word for defense in their language.”
Seeing something in his oculars, the lieutenant shifted his gaze to the built-in tricorder display overlaying the visual image. “Here we go, four more bogies inbound from the southeast. I’m relaying coordinates and vectors. Bring turrets four, five, seven and nine to bear.”
“Aye, sir,” affirmed the ensign, plugging away at his compact portable console. The embassy’s automated defense turrets responded as ordered, and rotated to meet the incoming enemy.
“They’re not even shielded, the dumb bastards,” the lieutenant commented disdainfully. “The new autarch must be thinning the ranks.” It was commonly known that the newly ascended autarch would send military units whose loyalty appeared questionable into battle against the foreigners, often denying them proper defenses or suitable tactics in order to whittle down their numbers from enemy attrition.
“Mubak to Lar’ragos,” the lieutenant’s compin came to life. “We’ve got two more shuttle’s filled to capacity and ready to launch. After they’re gone, it’ll just be us in the rear guard to exfil.”
Tapping his communicator, Lieutenant Pava Lar’ragos answered curtly, “Acknowledged, Major. We’ve got airborne threats coming in from the southeast and we’re preparing to engage them. This may be a ruse to cover an attack from another quarter, so give my people and me a few minutes to sound the all clear before sending them up.”
“Copy that.”
“Engage on my mark…” The Lar'ragos waited until he could make out the details of the heavily laden Tzenkethi Howler-class bombers. “Mark!”
A flurry of phaser pulses and micro-torpedoes reached out with pinpoint precision and snatched the aircraft from the sky. Lar’ragos shook his head, “Such a goddamn waste, all this death because some prissy blueblood wanted a bigger chair.” He keyed the security net comlink, “Everyone keep your eyes peeled for other activity. Maintain 360-degree awareness.”
Sixty seconds passed without any further threat contact, and Lar’ragos gave the go head to launch the shuttles. Their shields at full, the craft rose from the landing platform and pierced the invisible defense screen that established a protective bubble over the Federation facility. The Ferengi had apparently thought such an investment of resources was not sufficiently profitable, and were now reaping the consequences of that decision.
A series of brilliant orange streaks flashed through the sky overhead; tiny explosions blossomed in their wake somewhere up in the planet’s stratosphere. Lar'ragos' TacNet frequency crackled from his compin, “Crazy Horse to Detachment Alpha, we’ve intercepted a flight of trans-atmospheric bombers heading your way. We have your shuttles on sensors and will be assuming overwatch.”
“Detachment Alpha copies, Crazy Horse. Many thanks.”
A series of thunderous flashes caught their attention, and both men turned to see an enormous cloud of debris rising up from where the Ferengi compound had been only seconds earlier.
Muttering a curse in El Aurian, Lar’ragos scrambled down from his perch. “Let’s go, Ensign. They’re through frinxing around with museum pieces and just brought out the big guns.” On his way to the tower’s doorway, Lar’ragos set the defense turret system to automatic. As he pushed the junior officer through the door and into the stairwell ahead of him, Lar’ragos flinched as the first photon mortar rounds from the newly arrived assault hover platforms began to impact the embassy’s defensive screens. “All hands, this is Lar’ragos, prepare to repel Tzenkethi entry teams. They’ll start beaming in as soon as our shield collapses.”
The ensign grabbed the stairway’s safety railing as the structure shook, and was unable to keep the terror out of his voice as he asked, “They’re going to assault the embassy? Won’t they just bomb us flat like they did the Ferengi?”
“No,” Lar’ragos bounced off the wall of the first stairwell landing as the building jolted, “They only blasted the Ferengi because they weren’t worthy of the Tzenkethi’s time or effort. These guys like to toy with their prey; they like a challenge. And we’re the only ones in the neighborhood fighting back.”
Dust rained down from atop exposed pipes and conduits in the stairwell as the overhead shields rebuffed another salvo of photons. “The Klingons don’t fight back?”
“They don’t screw with the Klingons anymore, kid.” Lar'ragos huffed as they reached the lowest level. The two scrambled through a pressure door into one of the compound’s now empty streets. “They pulled this crap on the Empire about two hundred years ago.”
“And?” the ensign pressed as they made a mad dash for the landing field under an umbrella of strobing fire.
“And that’s why they call their capital New Kolma City, Ensign.”
“Oh,” was the young man’s only reply through ragged breaths as they sprinted into the innermost courtyard of the embassy.
The last shuttle, packed with Marines and security personnel, was preparing for takeoff. The Edosian major, Mubak, waved them towards the craft with one hand as he cradled an isomagnetic disintegrator in his other two. “Last flight out, people,” he bellowed. “Move with purpose!”
Inexplicably, Lar’ragos skidded to a stop just short of the shuttle’s ramp. He glanced back towards the spire from which he’d just descended. Mubak followed his gaze, and his eyes narrowed in displeasure as he caught sight of Pava’s omission. “You didn’t,” he said, the accusatory tone in his voice unmistakable.
“I did,” Lar’ragos replied heavily. “Shit.”
“You’d better do something about it,” Mubak snarled. “Neither of us will live it down otherwise.”
Lar’ragos reached into the shuttle and grabbed a phaser rifle from one of his security officers. He turned to Mubak, “Give me five minutes.”
“And not a second more,” the Edosian confirmed as Lar’ragos sprinted back down the street towards the base of the tower.
As he cursed his own stupidity and stormed back up the trembling stairwell, Lar’ragos reflected that his detached assignment from Starfleet to the Diplomatic Corps was not concluding exactly as he’d anticipated. Shipboard duty had become so dry, so tiresome of late, and he’d thought a special assignment like diplomatic security would offer new challenges. Well, that part he’d at least got right, and the thought caused him to smile grimly as he pounded up the final flight of stairs.
Just as he reached the door a horrendous impact threw him off his feet and sent him tumbling backwards down the stairs to the next landing, amid a cascade of shattered concrete and par-steel. He opened his eyes to find himself staring at the naked sky, the entire top of the tower had been blown away by the same salvo that had decimated their protective forcefield.
Lar'ragos pulled himself out from beneath a pile of rubble. He coughed at the lingering cloud of dust as he searched frantically for his phaser rifle. Then his sensitive ears made out the sound of a transporter field engaging somewhere in close proximity. He abandoned the weapon and drew his phaser pistol sidearm. Lar'ragos set it to maximum, well aware that he’d need such firepower if he were unlucky enough to encounter any Tzenkethi during his quest.
He exited the door at the base of the tower moments later, then ducked behind a large piece of shattered masonry as a hulking Tzenkethi soldier rounded the corner. The felinoids were closely related to the Caitians, and were widely recognized as being their larger, meaner, more barbarous cousins. Only the lack of advanced military technology and their own constant political infighting had kept the Tzenkethi from carving out a bigger interstellar empire for themselves than the paltry thirty odd star systems they now laid claim to.
Lar’ragos stifled the chill that threatened to run through his frame at the sight of the soldier, so similar in size to the Hirogen that had hounded him for nearly a decade in the Delta Quadrant. He squeezed himself as tightly as he could into a gap between the broken blocks of cement and waited until the armored behemoth had passed.
He withdrew his tricorder and adjusted it to detect a very specific signature. He set out and began his hunt through the assorted rubble felled from the top of the tower. Lar’ragos approached a low, heavily fortified building, and was still scanning the vicinity when his eyes caught sight of the sign. It was the embassy’s auxiliary power station. ‘A brief detour couldn’t hurt…’ he mused as he used his security override to disengage the locks on the shielded door.
Moments later, he emerged to resume his search. As he passed through the door and re-engaged the lock, his communications earpiece began to squawk. Within the shielded building, comms had been cut off. “Mubak to Lar’ragos, do you read me? Lar’ragos, if you can hear me, we’re taking fire at the landing pad, and we’ve been forced to launch. We’ll be making two circuits of the embassy compound before rendezvousing with Crazy Horse. If you can signal us, we’ll pick you up. If not… may you die well, Lieutenant.”
Lar’ragos tersely acknowledged the transmission and informed Mubak that he’d still not recovered the quarry. The major grudgingly gave him another two minutes grace; the tumult in the background of the conversation convinced Lar'ragos that the shuttle was taking heavy fire.
His tricorder suddenly alerted him to the presence of the specified material, and Lar’ragos moved to the location indicated and sank to his knees. He clawed through dirt, rubble, and dust with his bare hands. Joy and relief swelled in his chest as his hands gained purchase on the object, and he pulled it free and stuffed it inside his uniform jacket just as his instincts alerted him to a new and unexpected presence behind him.
Not pausing to look first, Lar’ragos launched himself sideways, and performed a shoulder roll while drawing his phaser. He depressed the trigger control as he came up into a crouch, and sent a concentrated phaser blast into the two Tzenkethi soldiers that had been stalking him.
The burly warriors screeched piteously as they were incinerated in less than a second. Their scorched but still intact armor clattered to the ground as their molecules vacated the protective cocoons.
Lar’ragos caught sight of the shuttle as it crested one of the compound’s apartment blocks, and the lieutenant double-tapped his compin to indicate that he was ready for rescue. The craft flared out for an abrupt landing and dropped its shields just long enough to lower the rear ramp hatch halfway. The shuttle made a tempting target for Tzenkethi gunners as it skimmed the ground at a half meter, but the pilot bravely held position until Lar'ragos had jumped up and pulled himself inside with the assistance of the other passengers in the rear compartment.
The pilot tipped the shuttle on its tail, and the craft rocketed into the sky, trailed by plasma pulses and no fewer than five missiles. The small vessel’s shields took the brunt of the attack, but as the ship raced for orbit, it was suddenly buffeted by a shockwave from a tremendous explosion. As the shaking finally subsided, Mubak moved into the cockpit to train the sensors on the surface. There he saw the telltale mushroom cloud of a fusion explosion rising into the air above what had been the Federation embassy compound.
As he stepped back into the crowded passenger compartment, Mubak fixed a dark look on Lar’ragos. “Care to explain how and why the compound just experienced a three megaton explosion, Lieutenant?”
Lar’ragos looked perplexed as he offered, “One of the fusion reactors must have taken a direct hit, Major. How terrible for the Tzenkethi, though. There must have been hundreds of their soldiers crawling over the place when it happened.”
The ensign frowned, “That shouldn’t be possible, sirs. There are more than twelve independent safety overrides to prevent such an expl—“
“Shut up, Ensign” Lar’ragos and Mubak ordered in unison. The ensign blushed and fell silent as the Edosian sidled closer to the El Aurian lieutenant. “Did you manage to find it while you were running amok down there?”
“As a matter of fact…” Lar'ragos reached into his uniform jacket and withdrew a tattered and burned but nonetheless intact flag of the United Federation of Planets. It had been flying atop the embassy tower prior to the structure being blasted. He held the flag aloft between his hands and gave Mubak an inscrutable look as he murmured, “Qapla'.”
Mubak turned to the rest of the Marines and security officers crammed into the back of the shuttle and gestured to Lar’ragos. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the last man off Tzenketh.”
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