Errand of Fury Book 1

by Kevin Ryan

  “You just got a promotion,” Fuller said. Then he handed the communicator to the young technician. “Have Lieutenant Silverman talk you through it.”

  “I have visual,” Lieutenant Fitz said.

  Fuller looked at Fitz, who was working at a console. Above her, the viewscreen showed a star field. “There it is,” she said, and hit something on the board.

  Suddenly, Fuller was looking at two Klingon ships. He could see that the closest one was damaged. There was scorching on the main hull and, more importantly, on the port nacelle. That was promising. It also gave him a target.

  “Where’s the Yorkshire?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, sensors are down,” Fitz said. She hit a series of switches and the view changed a number of times. Finally, it settled on the Yorkshire, which was slightly above them and a few kilometers away. The Starfleet ship had also taken some damage, but seemed intact. “The Klingons are keeping us between themselves and the Yorkshire.”

  “They’re hiding,” Fuller said, with some satisfaction. The Yorkshire must have really hurt them, he realized with pride. “Give me a view of the Klingons.” A moment later, he was looking at the Klingon vessels again.

  He leaned over to the technician working at the main console. “What have we got?”

  The technician raised his hand, listened to the communicator. Then he hit a series of switches on the console and a few buttons on the board lit up. One of the buttons was main power and one was manual targeting. “That’s it,” he said with pride in his voice. Then he frowned, “We have power to one forward phaser bank only, starboard side.”

  That was a problem, Fuller realized. The Klingons were behind them. The forward bank couldn’t make the shot. Fuller took the communicator and asked, “How much power do we have, Lieutenant?”

  “One good shot, maybe two if we don’t blow up,” Silverman said.

  “Good, but we can’t hit the Klingons in our current position. Can you spin us so that we’re facing the enemy?”

  “Maybe, with maneuvering thrusters, but we’re blind down here.”

  Fuller tried to calculate the required rotation given what he could see on his screen, the placement of the exterior camera on the hull, and the firing radius of the forward phaser bank. Finally, he gave up and said, “I need approximately a thirty-degree, clockwise rotation. And do it very slowly.”

  There was silence on the other end for a moment. Then Silverman said, “I can give you rotation, but I can’t promise that I can stop it at thirty degrees. However, I’ll time the power-up of the phaser bank so that you have full power at the thirty-degree mark.” That was necessary. They couldn’t have the power up for long. The Klingons would see the power surge on their scanners. Once that happened, the ship would have only a few seconds of power at most before the Klingon vessel blew the unprotected remains of the Endeavour out of space. “Begin rotation, mark,” Silverman said. Fuller could see the slow change of position of the Klingon ship on the viewscreen. “It’ll be less than a minute.”

  “Keep the view on the damaged Klingon ship,” Fuller said to Fitz, who nodded. With targeting scanners out, Fuller knew that he would have to target the phasers manually. And with maybe one shot, he could not afford to miss. Of course, if he had estimated the rotation incorrectly, the whole issue would be moot and he wouldn’t even get that shot.

  The room had gone completely silent as they all waited, silently marking the time. The Klingon ship faded out of the view of the camera and Fuller was afraid that he wouldn’t get his shot. He held his breath and then he heard Fitz’s voice from next to him. “Switching to forward camera.”

  Fuller knew that the forward camera had roughly the same orientation as the forward phaser bank. Theoretically, the field of view of the camera would be the same as the field of fire of the phaser bank. Of course, Fuller had no way of being sure. He was a new recruit just out of training, with no experience on large weapons systems outside of a simulator—and no simulator he had ever seen had been programmed with this particular scenario.

  But he had made a promise to his friend. He had made a promise to a better man, and he would not let Andrews down. Fuller willed the Klingon ship into position and almost immediately saw it appear in the left third of his screen. He could see the damaged nacelle clearly. He lined up the phaser with his target, compensating on the fly for the rotation of the Endeavour.

  “Power on my mark,” Silverman’s voice said from the communicator.

  Long seconds passed.

  “Mark.”

  There was no hesitation. Fuller hit the main power switch and the room around him hummed to life. There was a split second of nothing, and then a single, beautiful blue phaser beam lanced out at the Klingon ship, striking the shield above the nacelle directly. There was a bright flare where it hit the Klingon ship’s shields, and Fuller saw flashing energy, the telltale visual sign of shield failure.

  They had hit the Klingons hard. The damaged nacelle was unprotected now, but they had scored no additional damage that he could see.

  “Silverman, do we have power for another shot?” he asked. There was silence on the other end. Fuller was mildly surprised that the Klingons had not immediately retaliated. Perhaps he had hurt them more than he had thought. For all he knew, the Klingons were fighting a warp core breach now.

  Finally, Silverman said, “I don’t know. We’ve blown a lot of circuits here.” The ship was still rotating, and the Klingons would soon be out of range of the phaser bank. Once again, Fuller didn’t hesitate. He checked his targeting and fired.

  It worked.

  Another blue beam lanced out, ripping into the nacelle itself. As the beam traveled across the Klingon ship, it seemed to be tearing out large pieces of the hull. Then the nacelle disintegrated in front of him. After that, the phaser beam struck the rear of the ship and then it was out of the camera’s view and disappeared from the screen.

  “Yes!” someone said behind him.

  The Klingon ship lurched. If they had been fighting a warp core breach before, Fuller realized that it was inevitable now. The viewscreen went dark, but Fuller didn’t need the screen to tell him what was happening.

  The lights dimmed all around them. Then they went out completely, only to be replaced by the dim red lights of emergency power. That’s the end of our power, he thought. It didn’t matter, though. They had done it. At least one of the Klingon ships was finished.

  The gravity seemed to lessen, and Fuller felt his stomach lurch. Then it felt as if someone grabbed the ship and tossed it roughly. Fuller hit the console in front of him as he felt the artificial gravity completely disengage and he floated into the air. A moment later, even the dim emergency lighting went out.

  Floating in the darkness, Fuller said, “Sound off.” One by one, the people in the phaser room called out their names. Everyone was accounted for. He saw a handheld light come on. Then another.

  One of the lights floated over to him. It was Fitz, who handed him a light. “Follow me,” she said, using hand-holds to float to the door.

  Out in the corridor, Fuller saw that the four officers who had been guarding the door were okay. “Come on, we’ll make our way back to the cargo bay,” he said. Fitz took the rear. They made their way slowly down the corridor, pushing past the floating body of the captain as well as a number of others.

  On the way, he flipped open his communicator and said, “Fuller to impulse room.”

  “Silverman here. I’m sorry, Fuller, but we’re all out of power here, and it may be a while before we can change that.”

  “Thanks, but that’s okay. We got them. I’m sure that was their warp core.” He didn’t mention that there was another Klingon ship out there. He hoped that the reason it wasn’t shooting at them was because the Yorkshire had it occupied, but there was no way to know. He knew that the end could still come any time now. But until then, he had a job to do. As a security guard, he had to get all the survivors to a safe beam-out point. “Collect every
one you can and meet us in the cargo bay. Fuller out.”

  He continued floating through the remains of the ship, using hand- and footholds to push himself forward. He occasionally passed dead crewmates who floated in front of him. The ship is truly dead, he realized. The Endeavour was now a lifeless hulk sitting in space. The blast they had felt from the warp core breach had driven pieces of the Klingon ship through their own outer hull, which would be full of breaches now. They would be lucky if the cargo bay was intact.

  Long minutes later, they reached the cargo area. The door had enough battery power to open and there was still atmosphere inside—only because it was not facing the Klingon ship when that vessel exploded, Fuller realized.

  Thirty-five other people were assembled there. Thirty-six survivors out of a crew of one hundred and sixty-two. The windows in the cargo bay told them nothing, showing him only star field. Fuller wondered if the Yorkshire had been destroyed. And if it was gone, had it managed to destroy the Klingon ship before it went?

  If that had happened, all thirty-six survivors of the Endeavour would be dead.

  Fuller could feel the effects of their zero-power situation on life-support systems. There was plenty of atmosphere, but the temperature had dropped significantly. They would freeze to death before they suffocated.

  Just when he had decided to start moving people to the escape pods, Fitz handed him a communicator and said, “I’ve set it to send out hails on all Starfleet frequencies. We may get lucky.”

  A few long seconds later, the communicator chirped and she said, “It found an active receiver.”

  Fuller flipped it open and said, “Endeavour to Yorkshire.” He waited a moment and said, “Yorkshire, this is the Endeavour.”

  “This is the Yorkshire. Lieutenant Robert Justman, acting captain here.”

  “This is Ensign Michael Fuller. It’s good to hear your voice. We were able to monitor some of the battle from here. Is it over?”

  “The two Klingon cruisers are neutralized, thanks to your efforts over there. Those phasers came at just the right time. Is Captain Shannon with you?”

  For a moment, Fuller was silent, then he said, “No, Captain Shannon didn’t make it, but we have him to thank for the phasers.”

  “Understood. I’m sorry about your losses. How many of you are there? Are there any Klingons on board?”

  “The Klingons have been…neutralized. There are just thirty-six of us,” Fuller said.

  “Stay together, we will pick you up shortly. I look forward to shaking your hand, Mister Fuller.”

  “And I yours, sir. There’s one more thing. That last group that were ejected from the airlock…were you able to retrieve any of them?”

  There was silence on the other end, then Justman said, “No. I’m sorry to say that we were not able to save any of them. We have eighteen more of your crewmen from the first two groups, though.”

  “I understand. Thank you. Fuller out,” he said, closing his communicator. That was it. Andrews and the other nineteen people with him were dead.

  For the next few moments, Fuller was grateful for the darkness in the cargo area.

  Fuller found that he was eager to get off the Endeavour. It was dead now, a ghost ship. Before long, the Yorkshire called and the transport began. The ship’s transporter took them six at a time, and soon only Fuller and five others remained. Then he felt the transporter beam take him too.

  When it deposited him in the transporter room of the Yorkshire, Fuller realized that he had just taken his first trip through a transporter.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I.K.S. D’K TAHG

  2267

  “REPORT,” Karel said to Gash.

  “Councillor Duras’s soldiers are now all in their quarters,” Gash said.

  Karel saw that Gash had a bruise on one side of his face and a cut on the other side. Yet, he was standing, and that could only mean that the other Klingon or Klingons who had scuffled with him were not. “Have you completed their orientation to ship’s rules?”

  “Yes,” Gash said.

  “Are all of them…intact and ready for duty?” Karel said.

  Gash looked embarrassed. “Two are injured, but they will recover.”

  “Good work,” Karel said. Gash’s orientation had no doubt gotten physical, yet he had showed restraint and not killed any of Duras’s Klingons. That meant he had used his hands and not a blade or a disruptor. It was necessary to show Duras’s men that they did not run this ship, no matter what sort of behavior they saw from their arrogant superior.

  “You are dismissed,” Karel said, and got back to the computer console. He noted that their food supply would not even last as long as he had originally calculated.

  Duras’s Klingons ate more than Klingons on active duty did. It showed Karel that they had not seen battle in the recent past. Warriors facing battle ate to satisfy their hunger, but not so much that it would slow them in actual fighting.

  Karel heard footsteps outside, counting three Klingons. He shook his head. He had chosen the main computer control room because it was empty this time of day. Finding empty places on the ship was getting more and more difficult.

  As second-in-command, he was entitled to private quarters—a privilege reserved for just him and the captain. But Karel had been first officer for such a short time that he had never been able to enjoy that privilege. And because he had been squeezing the ship’s crew tighter and tighter, he had kept the same quarters he had had when he was bridge weapons officer—a post that he had held until just days ago. He still shared those quarters with the relief weapons officer. Duras now occupied what would have been his quarters, and Karel found what solitude he could to do the work necessary to keep the ship running.

  The door to the computer room opened, and Karel was automatically alert and getting to his feet. He had locked the door with a command code. Only the captain could override the code and enter without buzzing first.

  When the door opened, he did not see the captain. Instead, it was Duras. The large Klingon raised his hand and said, “I wanted to speak to you.” No one followed him inside, but Karel was sure that there were two of Duras’s guards posted outside now.

  After a moment, Karel sat.

  Duras smiled. Karel prided himself on his warrior’s ability to see another Klingon’s intention to kill him on that Klingon’s face. That ability had saved his life more than once. Karel did not see that intent on Duras’s face now. Yet there was something else there, something he did not trust.

  “What do you want?” Karel said.

  “I knew your father,” Duras said. Then the Klingon paused, letting the silence speak for him. Karel did not know what to expect from the large Klingon, but that comment had genuinely surprised him.

  “I served with him at the Battle of Donatu V,” Duras said. “He was a good warrior, courageous and cunning.”

  “And an honorable Klingon,” Karel added.

  “Yes, of course. He never forgot his duty to the empire.”

  “We all serve as best we can,” Karel said, studying the Klingon’s face, looking for some sign of what Duras was after.

  “Perhaps when we have more time, I could tell you something of what I knew of your father.”

  That was it. The councillor was offering him something, something that Duras knew he wanted. There were forces at work here that Karel did not see. He decided to answer honestly. “I would like to know more about my father.”

  “Yes, your father served the empire well. But not all service is the same, just as ‘not all blows are struck by the hand.’ ”

  For some reason, Karel was uncomfortable hearing Duras quote Kahless. “That is true. There are many ways to strike an enemy in open battle.”

  Duras smiled at that. “You have much to learn, young Karel, but I think you will have a long and successful career in which to do it, with many glorious campaigns. I am impressed that you have already come so far, so fast. You are first officer on a battle cruiser. I k
now that just months ago you were toiling at a secondary cooling system console in a weapons room.”

  Karel did not respond to that. He merely waited to see where Duras would go next. He did not have to wait long.

  “Have you thought about your future?” Duras asked.

  “My future? I intend to destroy the empire’s enemies for as long as I am able.”

  “True, but you will be even more effective in that endeavour when you have a command of your own.”

  There it was, the beginning of Duras’s second offer.

  “I have been first officer for less than a week,” Karel said.

  “Still, you must have thought of the time when you will challenge Koloth and the ship will be yours.”

  “Koloth is a good commander.”

  “If you are stronger…it is inevitable,” Duras said. “And there are many kinds of strength. Allies increase a warrior’s strength. Weapons also increase a warrior’s strength. Weapons like a battle cruiser.”

  Now Karel understood. Duras had already seen that Koloth would not allow him to rule over the ship. The councillor was planning something, a path he was not sure Koloth would follow. So he was offering Karel help in making a challenge to the captain. If Karel accepted the help and went along with whatever Duras was planning, he would have the D’k Tahg.

  Of course, it was all subtle. The councillor had said very little of actual substance. Instead, he had suggested and implied. And yet, looking into Duras’s eyes, Karel had no doubt of what the Klingon was offering him.

  Karel stood up immediately. “Captain Koloth is in command of this ship because he is the best warrior on board. He has many kinds of strength, including the loyalty of his crew and the loyalty of his first officer.”

  “I was not suggesting otherwise.”

  “Yes, you were. Do not show me a false face. You were offering me help in making a dishonorable challenge to Koloth.”

  “Do not accuse me,” Duras said, raising his voice and standing up himself.

  “I only state the simple truths we both know. Anything less would be dishonorable.”