by Dayton Ward
“Report!” Ag’hel shouted above the din.
A Klingon at the sensor station turned from his console. “We have been attacked, Lieutenant. The starboard nacelle has sustained heavy structural damage.”
“Who is attacking us?”
The Klingon shook his head. “I can find no sign of an attacking vessel. The only ship in range is the Enterprise.”
Ag’hel’s head snapped around and her eyes bore into Uhura with an intensity the commander thought she could feel lancing through her heart. Then her own attention was distracted by a shrill beep blaring from the communications console. She turned to read the display monitor, already knowing what she would see.
“The Enterprise is hailing us,” she said.
If Ag’hel heard the report, she gave no indication of it as she moved toward the command chair.
“Charge weapons,” the Terthos first officer ordered. “Transfer emergency power to the shields and prepare for tactical maneuvering.” Glancing once over her shoulder toward Uhura, she added, “We will demonstrate what happens to cowards who attack from the shadows.”
“The Enterprise couldn’t have attacked,” Uhura yelled over the sound of the red-alert siren. “They would never fire first on an unsuspecting target.”
Ag’hel snapped, “The only vessel out there is yours. There is no other explanation.”
Flabbergasted, Uhura rose from her chair. “Have you forgotten that your own security chief is investigating a terrorist bombing on the starbase? Whoever was responsible for that might be behind this attack.”
When Ag’hel ignored her while immersed in battle preparations, Uhura stepped forward, intending to continue the discussion until she made the Klingon listen to her. She stopped, though, when a large figure moved to block her path.
Murgh.
“Commander,” he said, “despite our working together, my loyalty is to this ship. Do not force me to restrain you.”
Realizing Murgh was deadly serious, Uhura looked to the forward viewscreen where the Enterprise was coming into view. A tactical schematic overlaid itself over the image of her ship, displaying distance and targeting information.
Powerless to do anything but watch the events unfolding around her, Uhura’s jaw clenched in mounting frustration.
Is this peace?
Chapter Twenty-six
“RANGE TO TARGET?” Ag’hel asked. “Six hundred qelI’qam s,” replied the Klingon at the sensor station.
On the viewscreen, the Enterprise was growing larger as the Klingon ship matched orbits around Starbase 49 and closed the distance. Her ship had faced Klingons before, but for Uhura, watching the confrontation unfold from the bridge of a Klingon vessel was an almost surreal experience.
Behind her, an insistent beeping continued from the communications console. It was the Enterprise, she knew, trying to make contact and assure the Terthos that they were not responsible for the attack. They might even have information about those who really were responsible.
And speaking of the perpetrators, wherever they were, what if they were preparing for another assault, even now as the Terthos crew was distracted with their impending strike on the Enterprise?
Uhura turned at the sound of bulky metal doors parting at the rear of the bridge and saw two Klingons enter. Followed by Ambassador Kaljagh, Captain K’tran was an imposing Klingon, having to duck his head in order to cross the threshold of the doorway as he entered the bridge. The leather of his uniform stretched tight across his broad chest, bare and muscled arms rippling as he moved with a grace that belied his size. His hair, long and dark, flowed freely about his head and shoulders and made him seem even taller. Uhura watched as the Klingon captain’s eyes took in the scene around him, seeing who manned what station and, most important, what was displayed on the main viewer.
“Silence that alarm,” he ordered as he moved to the center of the bridge and his command chair, which Ag’hel vacated. The alert klaxon faded as K’tran settled into his chair and regarded the Enterprise on the screen.
“Status.”
“My lord,” Ag’hel replied, “the Enterprise attacked us without warning, inflicting damage to our starboard nacelle. We are moving to retaliate.”
Kaljagh stepped forward from where he had been standing near the doors at the rear of the bridge. “They would jeopardize the conference with an act of such blatant hostility after a week of negotiations?”
“There is no other explanation,” Ag’hel replied. “There is no other vessel in the area. Only the Enterprise could have fired on us.”
Uhura had finally had enough. “Captain K’tran, there is no evidence that the Enterprise attacked your vessel, and they wouldn’t fire without provocation in any case.”
Cocking his head at the sound of Uhura’s voice, K’tran turned his chair until he faced her. “You are their communications officer.”
It was not a question, but instead a statement spoken by someone who was accustomed to knowing everything that occurred on his ship. Judging from that, she could tell the Klingon captain was none too happy to have his vessel gearing up for battle without his having ordered it.
Nodding, Uhura replied, “That’s right, Captain. I was assisting Lieutenant Murgh to . . .”
“I read the status reports supplied by my officers, Commander,” K’tran said. “Lieutenant Murgh speaks highly of your expertise and selflessness in seeing to the repair of our ship’s communications systems.”
Kaljagh said, “Would the Enterprise launch an attack with one of their own officers aboard our ship?”
“They might if she was spying for them,” Ag’hel replied, leveling an accusatory glare at Uhura.
Before Uhura could respond to the charges, K’tran said, “Are you saying, Lieutenant, that you allowed a Federation spy, disguised inconspicuously in a Starfleet uniform of all things, access to the internal systems of my vessel?” Taking a measure of satisfaction from the offended expression on his first officer’s face, he added, “Of course you did not, just as Commander Uhura is not a spy from the Federation ship.”
Even as Uhura breathed a sigh of relief, K’tran cast a glance toward Murgh, now seated at his console. “ Lieutenant, I trust that incessant shriek coming from your station indicates that the communications system is now working properly?”
Murgh rose from his chair in response to the direct address from his captain. “Yes, my lord. We are receiving an incoming hail from the Enterprise.”
With a look that told Uhura the Klingon captain knew more than he was letting on, K’tran turned to Ag’hel. “Lieutenant, perhaps you should investigate the hail.”
The order was given without force or harshness, but Uhura could tell it was delivered in such a manner that K’tran didn’t expect any challenge. Ag’hel stiffened at the command, nevertheless, still fuming over the captain’s previous allegation. She said nothing, but her eyes communicated her disapproval of K’tran’s decision. If the captain noticed her intense expression, or even cared about it, he gave no indication one way or another.
Directing her attention to Murgh, Ag’hel snapped, “Open a channel to the Enterprise.”
Seconds later, the image on the main viewscreen changed to that of the Enterprise bridge. Uhura saw Spock standing in front of the helm and navigator’s stations, looking regal in his Starfleet uniform and with his hands clasped behind his back. He gazed out from the screen, his expression impassive as always.
“Imperial Cruiser Terthos, this is Captain Spock, temporarily in command of the Enterprise. Our sensors have registered an explosion aboard your vessel. Do you require assistance?”
With equal calm, K’tran responded, “There is reason to believe that your vessel fired on us, Captain. Perhaps you would care to enlighten us further?”
On the viewscreen, Spock’s first reaction was to arch his right eyebrow. Then he said, “I have been on the bridge since before the incident occurred, sir, and I can assure you that no such action was ordered by anyone aboard
this vessel.” Looking to his left before continuing, he added, “There is someone else here who can attest to the validity of our claim.”
A Klingon stepped into the screen’s frame. He was dressed not in the uniform of an officer in the Klingon military, but rather in what Uhura recognized as the ornate robes and leather that signified a member of the diplomatic cadre.
“Toladal,” Kaljagh said, making no effort to hide the confusion on his face. “What are you doing on the Enterprise?”
On the screen, Toladal replied, “Captain Spock extended an invitation to share his evening meal with me. Additionally, Lieutenant Lorta is working here with the Enterprise security officer to investigate the incident in the conference hall. As you directed me to keep informed regarding the progress of the investigation, I saw several advantages to accepting the captain’s offer.”
“Perhaps in the future you will consider informing me of your actions before undertaking them,” Kaljagh said with more than a hint of irritation in his voice.
Toladal bowed his head formally. “As you wish, Ambassador.”
With that, Spock took center stage on the viewscreen once more. “Captain K’tran, the Enterprise stands ready to render any support you may require.”
Rising from his chair, K’tran shook his head as he replied. “I will check with my engineer to determine what is necessary, Captain. I also suspect that this latest attack may be related to the earlier incident on board your starbase. The services of Lieutenant Lorta and your security chief may be needed over here as well.”
“They are already aware of the situation, Captain, and they will transport to your ship directly. Spock out.”
As the viewscreen shifted to display the Enterprise once more, K’tran’s polite demeanor vanished. “ Deactivate weapons! Return us to our original parking orbit!” Spinning on his heel to face Ag’hel, his expression had screwed up into one of barely controlled anger.
“Fool! Were you trying to start a war with the Federation in their own space?”
Uhura was stunned by the near-instantaneous transformation of the Klingon captain, but it only took seconds for her to understand it. For the benefit of outsiders, K’tran had assumed all responsibility for the Terthos ’s actions, not allowing anyone else to be perceived as being in control of the situation aboard his own vessel. That would not stop him, however, from dressing down a subordinate who had embarrassed him once other eyes were no longer watching.
Ag’hel, to her credit, snapped to rigid attention before attempting any explanation. “My lord, based on the information available to me, the Enterprise was the only possible source of the attack. I was not aware that the ambassador’s aide had transported over to meet with their captain.”
“I find that odd,” K’tran snapped, “considering his departure is recorded in the deck officer’s log, which I scanned prior to leaving the bridge and which you should have reviewed prior to assuming your watch.”
Before Ag’hel could reply, Kaljagh stepped forward. “Captain, what is important here is the ramifications of this latest attack. I intend to contact the Federation ambassador and discuss suspending or canceling the remainder of the scheduled conferences.”
“No,” Uhura said, almost instinctively. Too late, she realized that she had almost certainly spoken out of turn and was in all likelihood damaging her status as an invited guest here. The look on K’tran’s face seemed to support that notion, but he said nothing.
Instead, he allowed Kaljagh to address the issue. “You have an opinion on this matter, Commander?”
Feeling the eyes of everyone on the bridge boring into her, Uhura swallowed the tricorder-sized lump that had formed in her throat. “Yes, Mr. Ambassador. Obviously the saboteurs are out to disrupt the meetings here. If you cancel them now after the progress you’ve made, then you’ve played right into their hands and they win.” Casting a reassuring glance at Murgh, she added, “That would be admitting defeat, and I find it difficult to believe that Klingons even acknowledge knowing the meaning of the word, especially when their opponent doesn’t even have the courage to show themselves.”
Nodding in satisfaction, K’tran’s features softened into a smile that might have been pleasant if not for his jagged, uneven teeth. “Spoken like a true Klingon.” Looking to Kaljagh, he added, “I agree with the human. If you allow a coward to chase you away, you dishonor the Empire.”
Kaljagh regarded the captain skeptically. “I would think that as a warrior, you would welcome the fight with the Federation.”
“As a warrior, I serve the Empire. If it is the Council’s wish to seek peace with our enemies, then so be it. I will find battle elsewhere.”
Uhura barely managed to contain her sigh of relief. Perhaps there was reason to hope for eventual peace after all.
On the bridge of the Enterprise, Spock was entertaining a similar discussion.
Ambassador Joquel, who had arrived on the bridge only moments before communication with the Terthos had ended, was adamant. “We cannot allow any further disruptions to these talks! One more of these . . . incidents, and the whole process will crumble. What a disaster!”
Spock agreed with the essence of the statement if not its distastefully emotional expression. Lasting peace was still an issue that would take many years of trust and cooperative effort to accomplish, but the strides made during this latest round of negotiations were promising. He was convinced that good work had been accomplished here.
The sound of the turbolift doors opening caught his attention and he turned to see Chekov and Lieutenant Lorta step onto the bridge. Spock could tell from the expression on Chekov’s face that the security chief had something substantial to report. Chekov, however, schooled his features as soon as he saw Ambassador Joquel and Toladal.
Hoping to deflect their attention from the new arrivals, Spock turned back to the ambassador and Toladal. “ Ambassador Joquel is correct,” he said. “To stop now would be to acknowledge that peace between the Federation and the Empire is not worth striving for.”
Toladal nodded. “I am of the same mind, Captain. I merely speak of the opponents to this initiative, who will no doubt claim these attacks as further proof that peace between our peoples is not possible.”
“So long as Ambassador Kaljagh feels the same way,” Joquel said in a more measured, but less spirited tone, “then we can continue in spite of all this.” Turning to face Chekov and Lorta, she said, “Commander Chekov, I hope that your arrival means you’ve made some progress.”
With an expression that said he was uncomfortable with what he had to say, Chekov replied, “Forgive me, Ambassador, but I am not permitted to comment on an ongoing investigation. I hope to have some answers for you soon.”
Not satisfied with the answer, Joquel nevertheless nodded amiably. “I may not like to hear that, Commander, but I do understand your position.” Looking to Toladal, she said, “Perhaps we can contact Ambassador Kaljagh and see about salvaging the remainder of the conference.”
As the ambassador and the Klingon aide disappeared into the port side turbolift, Spock turned to Chekov and Lorta. “I presume you have new information that you did not wish the ambassador to hear?”
Chekov nodded. “We examined the sensor logs, working backward from the most current readings and looking for anything out of the ordinary.” Moving to Spock’s science station, the security chief enabled one of the overhead display monitors. An image of the Terthos appeared, and Chekov entered another command string that caused the image to zoom forward, magnifying the surface of the Klingon ship’s hull until only a portion of the starboard nacelle was visible.
“This is the Terthos just prior to 1800 hours,” Chekov said. In the corner of the monitor Spock saw that the time index read “17:59:57,” with the image frozen at that point. “Now, watch.”
Chekov keyed the command to replay the sensor log extract, and they watched as several seconds passed without incident. Then, as the time index moved to read “18:00:24,” the sur
face plating of the nacelle was illuminated by a brief burst of orange light.
“A transporter beam,” Spock said.
“More specifically, a Klingon transporter,” Lorta corrected as the beam faded and a new object was revealed, attached to the exterior of the nacelle’s hull. In contrast to the muted gray-green coloring that characterized K’tingaclass battle cruisers, the narrow, tube-shaped object was dark black in color, with no external markings or identifying symbols that Spock could see.
“The explosive that caused the damage to the nacelle,” Spock said.
Lorta nodded, “It is a Klingon torpedo, and it could only have come from the Terthos ’s own weapons store. I will confirm that with my own visual inspection.”
The revelation caused Spock’s eyebrow to arch. “ Indeed? Most curious. If that is the case, then we can be reasonably certain that our saboteur is either a member of the Terthos ’s crew or one of the diplomatic team.”
Chekov said, “The transporter signal that put it there was piggybacked onto another, and based on the sensor logs, the placement of the bomb was timed to coincide with the transport of Toladal to the Enterprise. Obviously it wasn’t detected by the Terthos crew.”
“It was also a beam of very low power,” Lorta added, “localized and subdued so as not to trigger sensor alarms on the Enterprise, as well.”
Chekov said, “We haven’t been able to locate the source of the transporter beam, but given the power level, it could only have come from the Terthos herself.”
Spock studied the image of the Terthos ’s hull and the ominous dark object affixed to it. On the screen, the time index continued to advance, with seconds passing into minutes and on toward what Spock knew would ultimately happen at “18:14:47.”
“Could the detonation have been triggered by a communications source aboard the Enterprise?” he asked.
Frowning, Chekov shook his head. “Nothing like that registered on the sensors, sir. Even when we gave the logs a closer look in order to find that.” He pointed to the screen.
