The Measure of Our Resolve

[Savros 0]

This following takes place during and after the last sim, aboard the starship Columbia.

 

Captain Saylek stood in the senior officer's lounge, looking aft toward the slowly receding starfield. Alone, he contemplated the disappearance of the unescorted supply ships the Federation had sent earlier. In the last hour, he had been attacking one question with relentless logic: How was it possible to attack Federation ships, take them hostage, and remove them without leaving a trace? His own ship was travelling backward along the route the freighters were known to be taking, but as yet they'd found no trace.

 

He turned, walking up the ramp that would bring him to the Columbia bridge. Absently, he smoothed the rank pin affixed to the white strap over his right shoulder. He nodded as he passed relief helmsman Gaant, who smiled back uncertainly. Saylek took the response as another indication: his crew was on edge.

 

The convoy had been attacked by a cloaked Klingon ship almost as soon as they'd crossed the border. Continuing to Qo'nos, they'd endured several hours of search and destroy, but performed efficiently under this pressure. They were a veteran crew, he knew. Many of them had served on this ship under Commodore Harrison on its last five-year mission. But knowing they were in foreign territory and could come under attack from an unseen enemy at any time would take its toll. Lacking emotional mastery, the stress would begin to affect them.

 

Continuing on his path, Saylek entered through the aft portside door of the bridge. He took two steps toward the center chair. "Status report."

 

Kal'don, his chief of security, looked up from the scanner. "Nothing even remotely looking like debris or a lingering warp trail. But Mr. Marx picked up some trace fluorine particulates."

 

"Flourine?" Saylek wondered aloud, taking a seat, "Is it connected to the earlier smoke screen?"

 

The Caitan moved away from the scanner to allow Mr. Marx to resume his post. "The same. It has the gamma decay signature provided us by Lieutenant Kas, that engineer over on Challenger." He smiled widely revealing sharp teeth. "Shall we set a trap for our little mouse?"

 

The pun was not lost on the Vulcan, but for all appearances he ignored it. Instead, he steepled his hands and pressed them to his lips a moment, digesting the new information. Kal'don wanted to use the initiative. There was a ship watching them; they knew where it was. They knew it was not a sanctioned Imperial ship, which meant it probably had answers. He balanced duty on the razor's edge of his logic.

 

* * * * *

 

The Klingon captain stood on the bridge of the Bird of Prey. It had been several hours since he had been ordered him to follow Columbia in its search for the missing ships. He thought it good that he knew that the ship was commanded by a Vulcan. That meant patience was needed. Unfortunately, the recent decision to only use the strongest, most battle ready forces for a ship's crew meant that patience was in short supply.

 

"They are charging weapons!" came the voice of the tactical officer.

 

"nuq? How?" The captain muttered curses and pressed a button to his left. The lights in the ship dimmed and flash a reddish orange. With another press of the button, he ordered the sleeping crew members to their posts. "Can they see us?"

 

The helmsman clenched his fist. "They are turning to face us!"

 

The captain recklessly pounded the arm on his chair, growled, and ordered the ship to take evasive maneuvers.

 

* * * * *

 

Lieutenant Ryan Marx reported the change while looking through the scanner. "That got their attention. They are moving now at heading…wait. It's erratic!" he announced. "They appear to be taking evasive maneuvers."

The Caitan had taken a position at the aft tactical table. He looked up for confirmation from his commanding officer. Saylek was facing away from him, watching the main viewer, but signaled by dropping his hand and pointing.

"Firing phasers," he relayed. He pressed several buttons in succession. "We have a confirmed hit!"

"Maintain that lock," the Vulcan ordered. "Let's see if we can impress some diplomacy this time."

* * * * *

The Klingon bird of prey decloaked and hovered a moment while its shields rose.

"They're hailing us," came the voice of the communications officer."On screen."

A Klingon appeared showing his characteristic ridges. "I am Captain Stovas of the loyalist bird of prey K'Shil. We have been following you to provide escort in case you were attacked by traitors."

If Saylek was surprised to hear this revelation, he did not show it. The Klingons were known for their deception and he could not know if this was one of the raiders or if a ship was secretly ordered to follow them. He must keep them here while he ascertained their true purpose. "Captain, there is an inherent danger in shadowing my ship through hostile space without identifying yourself, as you have just learned. Since you now know that I can track your ship, it would be in your best interest to make yourself known." The latter was not entirely true. Detecting trace fluorine particles through space was like tracking a glob fly through a sandstorm. He wondered how well Columbia sensors would be able to maintain the lock if they suddenly decloaked and went to warp. "I suggest you maintain your present condition while we verify your orders."

The Klingon captain's expression changed. "Verify my orders! You Vulcan piece of pet'aq! TlhIngan maH! <We are Klingons> You have my word and that is all you should ever need from us!"

"Your word?" Saylek thought it impertinent that Klingons suddenly had a sense of honor. "In my career, I've known too many Klingons," he added. For years, their combative race had sought ways to outmaneuver the Federation by lying, cheating, or any other illegitimate means. And their propensity for violence was well-known. He still felt phantom pain from where he had been run through with one of their smaller, curiously shaped blades during a failed boarding attempt. He was about to caution patience when the screen suddenly flickered, turned to snow, and shut off. The captain swiveled his chair toward communication officer, Ensign Neuman.

Unbidden, the human female looked up. "I'm sorry, sir. Interrupted at the source."

Marx looked up from the scanning scope. "I'm detecting weapons fire on their bridge."

An alert light went on automatically, bathing the bridge in red light. The Caitan tactical officer gripped his station with his claws. "Incoming torpedo, brace for impact!"

The bridge of the Columbia rocked. Lights blinked out and sparks showered the aft section of the bridge. If they had not been running with shields raised… Saylek looked aft toward the Main Situation Board, where only one red light blinked. Kal'don still had one claw gripping his station, but looked like he was going to fall over. The Caitan's voice stammered, "Direct hit… just aft of the bridge."

Saylek leaned forward out of his chair, taking in the distance to the tactical table in two bounds. Bracing his security officer, he looked vainly for the weapons lock to return fire. He glanced toward the science station and saw Marx slumped against the back of his own chair. Onscreen, the shifting starfield showed helmsman Kramer had taken the initiative to begin evasive.

Saylek eased Kal'don into the chair, tapping the console to refresh weapons status. Without looking up, he called out to Ensign Neuman, "Get Dr. Moriamis up to the bridge. Tell her we have wounded."

* * * * *

CAPTAIN'S LOG

Excelsior-class starship USS Columbia

Saylek, commanding

 

It has been two hours since we revealed the "loyalist" Klingon bird of prey K'Shil. While attempting to ascertain their credentials, Lieutenant Marx detected weapons fire on their bridge. It is reasonable to assume there was a mutiny – Klingon practice being what it is. Almost immediately, a torpedo hit behind our bridge. Our shields took the brunt, but it caused an overload in the sensor power grid. Mr. Marx and Mr. Kal'don were injured but are predicted to make a full recovery.

 

With our sensors rattled, the K'Shil cloaked and we lost our lock. I estimate the attack was designed specifically to cover their escape, as they did not attempt to re-engage us.

 

I have advised the Klingon High Command that we will fire on unannounced cloaked ships. They seemed to recognize the need to advise us of any further escorts.

 

Mr. Albrecht has restored sensor capability. We will be ready if they return.