Star Trek: Vanguard: Declassified Page 8

  Can it be that the Council is finally ready to face our enemies in battle? The question burned in Kutal’s mind, even though he knew the answer. Though Chancellor Sturka and the Klingon High Council seemed ready and eager to engage the Federation, they also appeared concerned that the Klingon fleet was not yet ready for extended offensive action against its Starfleet adversaries. Intelligence reports indicated that Starfleet vessels, in particular the armada of heavy cruisers that were the Federation’s most advanced starships, were a near match in offensive capabilities for the Empire’s premier battle cruisers, the D7’s. That claim had been tested in battle to varying degrees, though Kutal had yet to enjoy such an occasion. He hoped that would change now that the Federation and the Empire seemed on a collision course as each power worked to increase its influence in the Gonmog Sector. Sooner or later, he predicted, a Starfleet ship would overstep its bounds and dare to challenge the Empire’s efforts in this region of space, and for that, Kutal could only hope the Federation would dearly pay.

  For now, however, he would have to be content with hunting lesser prey. He did not know why the High Council held so much interest as to what the Starfleet vessel and its crew might have found here, but that was not his concern. Someone else could worry about such things. Kutal preferred the straightforward mission he had been given.

  “According to the reports, they suffered damage to their warp drive,” he said, rising from his chair. “They would need to effect repairs before they could leave the system with any hope of evading pursuit. So, it stands to reason that they’re here, somewhere.” He recalled what he knew of the compact Starfleet vessel’s design. “Their ship is capable of making planetfall. Perhaps they went to the surface to make repairs.”

  Tonar nodded. “I had considered that, sir, and have subjected the entire planet to an intensive sensor scan. I found no trace of a vessel. However, it must be reported that we detected large deposits of minerals possessing qualities that interfere with our scanners.”

  “It would be like a cowardly Federation petaQ to seek refuge in a place such as that,” BelHoQ said. The burly executive officer folded his muscled arms across his broad chest. “They run and hide like pathetic animals.”

  Ignoring the comment, Kutal instead asked, “But that was at long range, was it not? Now that we’re closer to the planet, can you not manipulate our sensors to account for the interference? I don’t need a complete target lock, Lieutenant; just proof of where they are.”

  “I am endeavoring to do just that, Captain,” Tonar replied.

  “Then endeavor with greater zeal, or I shall find a new weapons officer.” Turning from his subordinate, Kutal was making his way back to his seat when his helm officer, Lieutenant Qlar, looked over his shoulder, his heavy brow creased with concern.

  “Captain, our navigational sensors are detecting an odd reading.”

  Moving to stand behind the helm officer, Kutal glowered at the array of status readings and gauges filling Qlar’s console, all of them highlighted in shades of crimson. “What kind of odd reading?”

  Qlar shook his head. “I don’t know, sir. It’s not like anything I’ve seen before.” His massive hands drifted across the console, calling up new status reports to the workstation’s bank of display screens before he pointed to one monitor. “Do you see it? There?”

  “I don’t understand,” Kutal said, at first perplexed by the strange sensor return. “What is this thing trying to tell us?”

  “According to this,” Qlar replied, “there is a very small area that is immune to our sensors. No feedback whatsoever.” He shook his head. “It’s like a hole in space, Captain.”

  “Is it a threat to the ship?” BelHoQ asked.

  The helm officer said, “I am unable to determine that, Commander. I’m able to confirm that there is no gravitic pull, and I cannot detect anything that might hint at an artificial power source.”

  “Could it be a mine?” Kutal wondered aloud. “Like the ones the Romulans used to employ in orbit around their planets, equipped with sensor-scattering field generators.”

  Pausing to consider the question, Qlar finally answered, “It’s possible, sir.”

  “Let me see it,” Kutal ordered, directing his attention to the viewscreen. He waited as Qlar entered the necessary commands, and the image on the screen soon shifted from empty space to a view of Traelus II. The planet was visible in the screen’s upper right corner, but that was not what drew Kutal’s attention. Instead, he studied what looked like a large chunk of rock drifting free in space.

  “What is that?” he asked. “It looks like an asteroid.”

  BelHoQ said, “Our scout vessel’s survey reports indicated no asteroids present in the system, Captain.”

  Grunting in annoyance, Kutal waved toward the screen. “Do your eyes not work, Commander? What would you call that?” The screen showed an oblong body of jagged rock, tumbling slowly as it rolled past the edge of the viewer. Qlar adjusted the picture so that the asteroid remained centered. “What’s its range?”

  “Seventy thousand qelI’qams, Captain,” Tonar replied. A moment later, he added, “We are close enough now that I’m detecting an energy reading from it. It’s faint, but it is unmistakable.” Then he turned from his console, his eyes wide with realization. “Captain!”

  Kutal had already made the same deduction. “All power to weapons and shields!”

  Despite the best efforts of the ship’s environmental control systems to provide a comfortable room temperature—even at their current rate of reduced power—Clark Terrell felt sweat forming beneath his tunic on his chest, between his shoulder blades, and at the small of his back. Around him, the bridge of the Sagittarius was cloaked in almost total darkness, the only illumination being whatever was cast off by the few workstations that remained active. On the main viewscreen, which, like every other active system, was operating at less than half efficiency, lines of static crossed the image of the Klingon D5 battle cruiser that was closing to what Terrell considered a disturbingly small distance.

  Anything less than a light-year is pretty damned disturbing right about now.

  “Captain,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. He knew there was no logical reason to keep his voice low, as sounds would not travel across the vacuum of space separating the Sagittarius from the Klingon vessel, but he could not help himself. “I don’t think they’re buying it.”

  From where he sat in his command chair, Captain Nassir also spoke in a low voice when he replied, “If they suspected anything, they’d have fired by now.”

  That was not enough to convince Terrell, who also had been the last one to buy into the crazy scheme concocted by Vanessa Theriault to provide cover for the Sagittarius as it lifted away from Traelus II. Once it had become obvious that Master Chief Ilucci and his engineers would not complete repairs to the warp drive systems before the Klingon cruiser’s arrival at the planet, Theriault had devised a scheme to continue using the large deposit of thallium on top of which the ship had rested while on the surface. Employing the ship’s phasers, Bridget McLellan had excavated a large section of the ore from where it rested in the ground beneath the Sagittarius, carving away pieces and fragments until what remained was a somewhat oblong, lopsided sphere. When the time came for the ship to lift off, McLellan utilized the tractor beam to haul the oversized fragment to orbit with the Sagittarius, holding the hunk of ore before the ship like a makeshift shield. Dealing with the fragment’s mass had posed some challenges, which Theriault had overcome by reconfiguring the tractor beam emitters. The result was a haphazard thallium shell that—according to Theriault’s theory—would act to conceal the scout vessel from all but the most intensive sensor scans. Terrell had been skeptical throughout the preparation process, his doubts lingering even as the ship ascended from the surface and made its way into space.

  “I don’t know if this is the craziest damned thing I’ve ever heard of, or if you’re just a genius,” he said, placing a reassuring hand on
Theriault’s shoulder.

  “I’m only a genius if it works,” the science officer countered. “If it doesn’t, then it’s going to be a long walk home.”

  Terrell shrugged. “Look on the bright side. We probably won’t have to worry about that.”

  For this ruse to work, Theriault had explained, and for the ship to appear as nothing more than a barren asteroid trapped in orbit around Traelus II, the Sagittarius’s power levels had been reduced to the bare minimum. All nonessential systems had been deactivated, and several other key systems also had been taken off line or else were operating in low-energy mode. The tractor beam emitters were generating just enough power to hold the thallium shell in place. Nassir had even taken the extra risk of ordering Master Chief Ilucci to power down the impulse drive, lest its telltale energy signature be detected by a sharp-eyed Klingon sensor officer. While the warp drive also posed a similar threat, there had been no choice but to leave it on line if the Sagittarius was to have any hope of escape. Theriault and McLellan had tried to compensate for that by positioning additional, smaller fragments of thallium in the ship’s cargo bay. It was improvisational camouflage at best, though everyone aboard knew it would not have to work for very long.

  It only needs to work long enough, Terrell mused.

  Tapping a control on the arm of his chair, Nassir said, “Bridge to engineering. Master Chief, what’s your status?”

  Michael Ilucci replied, “I can give you warp five from the jump, Skipper, but no more than that. If somebody’s planning on chasing us, it’s going to be a pretty short run.”

  “I should’ve gone to law school like my mother wanted,” Terrell said, affecting a grim smile as he shared knowing looks with Nassir. Warp five had been an optimistic estimate from the chief engineer at the start of his repair efforts, and even though he had met that goal, it would not be enough if they were forced to flee the Klingon ship. The only option was a daring, perhaps even foolhardy plan to smack the enemy vessel across the nose before trying to make a run for it.

  “Klingon ship closing to two hundred thousand kilometers,” McLellan reported, studying the sensor readouts on her console. “Their posture so far doesn’t seem to be aggressive. No more than normal, anyway, at least so far as I can tell. They look to be on a course for standard orbit.” She frowned. “The thallium’s affecting our sensors, too.”

  “That’s the trade-off,” Nassir said, his voice calm and composed. Terrell nodded in agreement, as Theriault had warned them of the mineral’s effects on their own scanning systems. Anything more than short-range sensors would be all but useless, which at present did not matter, given the Klingon cruiser’s proximity. “Where are we in relation to them?”

  Examining a readout on her console, Theriault replied, “We’re just crossing the terminator, and their orbital attitude suggests they’re not changing heading to come our way.”

  “What do we look like to their sensors?” Nassir asked.

  Theriault shook her head. “Hard to say, sir. Maybe a sensor void or dead spot. The thallium will affect their sensor returns enough to distort whatever visuals are created by their imaging processors. If they get close enough, they’ll be able to cut through the interference and maybe even pick up our power emissions.”

  “They’ve got to be thinking something doesn’t add up,” Terrell said, shaking his head. “The question is whether they come closer to investigate, or just blow us to hell from a comfortable distance.”

  McLellan called out, “One hundred twenty thousand kilometers. So far as I can tell, they haven’t raised their shields.” Terrell saw that her left hand hovered over the controls that would activate the Sagittarius’s deflector shields. Doing so now would all but ensure that the Klingon ship would fire on them, but if they raised their own shields before Nassir decided to act, then this entire crazy scheme would have been for nothing.

  Come on. Terrell almost shouted the words. Just a few minutes more.

  A red indicator flared to life on McLellan’s board, and the tactical officer looked over her shoulder at Terrell and Nassir. “They’re changing course and heading this way.”

  “Damn,” Terrell muttered. “I knew it was too good to last.”

  “Look sharp, people,” Nassir said, leaning forward in his chair. “We’re only going to get one shot at this, if that. Stand by.”

  On the viewscreen, the image of the Klingon D5 cruiser solidified and took on sharper resolution, an effect of drawing closer to the Sagittarius and its compromised sensors. McLellan called out, “Ninety thousand kilometers and closing. Their shields are down.”

  “Once they cross seventy-five thousand kilometers,” Theriault said, “they might be able to spot us.”

  Nassir nodded. “Helm, on my mark, disengage the tractor beam and maneuver us away from that rock. Bridy Mac, fire as soon as you get a clear shot. You’ve got your targets picked out?”

  “Forward disruptor array and starboard nacelle,” McLellan replied. “That’s probably all we’ll have time for before they raise their shields.”

  “Always the optimist,” Nassir said.

  On the screen, the Klingon ship drew ever closer, its image growing so large that it seemed ready to punch through the forward bulkhead. How much longer would deception hold out?

  “Eighty thousand kilometers,” McLellan said.

  Nassir slapped the arm of his chair. “Now!”

  At the helm, Lieutenant zh’Firro tapped a sequence of controls. “Disengaging tractor beam.” The image on the viewscreen began to clear within seconds as the Sagittarius backed away from the massive chunk of thallium ore.

  “Targeting!” McLellan called out, her own fingers a blur as they worked her console. “Firing!”

  “They’re raising shields!” Theriault shouted.

  McLellan punched the air with her left first. “Direct hits. I missed the disruptor array, but it still tore a chunk out of the primary hull. The starboard nacelle has massive damage. I don’t think they can go to warp, but they’re still maneuverable at impulse speeds.”

  “Raise shields,” Nassir ordered, his tone sharp and direct. “Sayna, initiate evasive. Keep us out of their gun sights, and stand by to go to warp.”

  “They’re coming about,” McLellan said, her fingers continuing to work. “Phasers standing by.”

  Nassir replied, “Let’s hold off unless they don’t give us another choice.” Engaging the intercom once more, he said, “Engineering, are we ready?”

  “Almost there, Skipper!”

  Zh’Firro said, “Captain, I’m having trouble evading them. They’re still pretty maneuverable.”

  “Not to mention three kinds of pissed,” Terrell said, realizing as he spoke that his grip on the back of Theriault’s chair was so tight that he was very near tearing away the upholstered material.

  “They’re locking weapons!” McLellan shouted.

  “Fire!” Nassir snapped, and the response was immediate as the Sagittarius released another barrage of phaser fire. On the tactical display at McLellan’s station, Terrell could see two white streaks representing the phaser beams as they crossed space to the larger crimson circle depicting the Klingon ship. The vessel’s movements, along with those of the Sagittarius, were such that both salvos missed their mark.

  “Damn it!” McLellan hissed through gritted teeth. “They’re firing!”

  Even before Nassir could order evasive action, zh’Firro was reacting, guiding the ship away from danger as she used the Sagittarius’s smaller stature to her advantage. Terrell, his attention divided between the main viewer and McLellan’s tactical display, could only watch as zh’Firro maneuvered the ship back toward its Klingon adversary.

  “Whatever Ilucci’s going to do,” Terrell said, “he’d better do it now.”

  “Engineering!” Nassir snapped.

  “Go!” shouted Ilucci through the intercom.

  Her fingers moving in frantic fashion across her console, zh’Firro executed a final evasive maneuv
er, dropping the Sagittarius beneath the Klingon cruiser. Terrell was certain he could count rivets securing hull plates on the enemy vessel before it vanished from view an instant before those stars that were visible stretched, contorted, and extended into infinity as the ship leaped to warp.

  “No sign of pursuit,” McLellan said after a moment. “Looks like we’re in the clear.”

  Feeling the tension leave his body, Terrell uttered an audible sigh of relief. “A lawyer, my mother said. Or a doctor. I could’ve been a doctor.”

  The comment had its intended effect, with everyone on the bridge laughing, smiling, or shaking their heads in disbelief.

  “Hello?” Ilucci said over the still-open intercom frequency. “Is it over?”

  Nassir leaned back in his chair, wiping sweat from his brow. “Yes, Master Chief, it’s over. Well done, if a little late.”

  “Everyone’s a critic,” the engineer replied before the connection was severed.

  Chuckling at that, Nassir cleared his throat and straightened in his seat. “All right, Sayna. Since it appears we haven’t flown into a planet, star, or other interstellar obstacle, please plot us a course back to Vanguard.”

  “Already laid in, sir,” the young Andorian replied.

  “That was some nice flying,” McLellan said, reaching over to pat the helm officer on the arm.

  “Nice job all around,” Terrell added. “Take the rest of the day off.” Reaching over once more, he tapped Theriault on the shoulder. “That goes double for you.”

  The ensign smiled. “Thank you, Commander.”

  Turning to face Nassir, Terrell asked, “What now?”

  Shrugging, the captain replied, “Reports to file, repairs to finish, miles to go before we sleep, and all that.” He indicated the viewscreen and its view of warp-distorted space. “We got lucky today, but you and I both know this is only the beginning. The Klingons are in the Taurus Reach to stay. Tomorrow could be a whole other fight.”