Preface: There will always be critics but some Star Trek fans can be among the worst. Note to some of those critics: Sensors are only as good as the writers want them to be. It doesn’t matter if it is 5 feet or 500 light years the sensors will only see or not see what the writers want them to see. Yes, I can list examples from both the TV series and the movies if necessary.
This story was originally written as a screenplay and was based on situations created at the end of Vonda N. McIntyre's book: Enterprise, The First Adventure. For those that think writing for Star Trek or for anything is easy, try taking a small sentence from the bottom of page 349 or another page from any other novel and write an entire story based on an obscure reference from within that novel and make it fit within the Star Trek universe while creating a whole new world of characters in the process. It is not as easy as you might think.
This story was designed to be a movie or adapted into something like a graphic novel. But, it was in need of refinement that I never got around to doing. So for about 30 some odd years it sat around gathering dust. Along came personal computers and the ability to scan typed pages into word documents. Converting a visual story into mini-novel has not been easy and the refinements continue. It is what it is.
~~~
It was a spacecraft born of function and logic that glided silently through the blackness of space. The sides of the ship held spaces for detachable containers and its bulky design marked it as a Vulcan merchant ship.
The Klingon battlecruiser bridge was a flurry of activity as they tracked the Vulcan spacecraft. A young Klingon girl about 16 years old sat in the captain’s chair. The captain stood next to her. Behind them stood two Klingons in black uniforms, the traditional uniform of the Empress’s Guards. This marked the girl sitting in the chair as a member of the royal family, a direct descendant of Kahless, the Unforgettable. Though this trip was little more than an inspection cruise, the captain of the battlecruiser was not about to let the ship on his view screen getaway. “Report,” he said.
“It’s a Vulcan merchant ship, Captain, she’s on course for Re Mar 7 in the Federation Neutral Zone,” a crewman reported making the word “Federation” sound like an insult. The Neutral Zone was more of an invention of the Federation to act as a buffer between them and the Klingons. The Klingons on the other hand had never really recognized the Neutral Zone and they tended to violate the treaty that created the zone often.
“What is your is pleasure, Princess?” the captain asked. “Shall we let it pass or take her?”
“My tour of the Neutral Zone would not be complete without a demonstration of the skill and combat readiness of this crew, and the firepower of this vessel,” Ashalara, daughter of the Klingon Empress replied.
“As you command,” the captain said with a wicked smile. He would have found an excuse to take the ship even if the Princess had not given him permission. “Battle stations, prepare to disengage cloaking device. Gunner target the engines, I want that vessel whole. Boarding party to the transporter room; begin jamming all transmissions.
“Boarding party standing by,” the intercom crackled.
“Gunner, fire the moment we de-cloak,” the captain said as he looked at Ashalara waiting for the final permission he did not really need to begin the attack on the Vulcan ship.
“You may precede, Captain,” she said.
“Disengage cloaking device. Fire!”
The Klingon battlecruiser materialized behind the Vulcan merchant ship and a split second later fired its weapons. A direct hit on the intended targets and merchant ship’s engines exploded causing the ship to drop out of warp. The battlecruiser dropped out of warp also as it overshot the ship and began a 180 degree turn that brought it quickly back within transporter range.
Tara, the 15 year old daughter of the Vulcan owner and captain of the ship strolled leisurely down the hallway. For her this was just another boring trip and perhaps some part of her longed for some kind of adventure, but the way of logic does not have a whole lot of room for adventure. One moment everything was fine and the next she was slammed hard into a bulkhead wall and bounced back across the hallway into the opposite wall. Sliding down the wall she lay in a crumpled heap unconscious.
On the bridge of the Vulcan spacecraft, the captain and crew were getting back up on their feet or into their chairs. “Status report,” the captain said in an urgent but logically controlled tone of voice.
“Both warp engines have sustained severe damage and no longer function and engineering does not respond. Impulse power is offline. Life support is intact. Emergency systems are all operational except in engineering,” a crewman reported as he regained his chair.
“Send a distress call,” the captain said just as the door slid open and a group of Klingons burst onto the bridge killing everyone in sight.
Tara staggered to her feet and began to run down the hallway toward the bridge. As she rounded a corner she ran headlong into a small group of Klingons. “Well, what do we have here?” one of them said as he grabbed the girl.
The Vulcan spacecraft’s bridge was quickly cleared of dead bodies before Ashalara and the Klingon Captain beam onboard the ship. “The ship is yours, Princess,” the captain said.
“No, Captain, the victory is yours; I have no need of anything on this ship. I am only an observer here,” Ashalara replied. “What will become of the ship now?”
“Even as we speak the cargo is being loaded into our own hold and charges are being set that will blow this ship into space dust,” the captain replied as one of his men entered the bridge dragging a young Vulcan girl behind him. He threw her to the floor before the captain’s feet.
Tara’s face was bruised, battered, and bleeding. Trying to salvage some self-dignity she held her torn clothes together the best she could. “Something we found in the hall,” the Klingon soldier said with a laugh.
“Kill her.”
Tara’s eyes met Ashalara’s and for a moment they were as one. Ashalara felt the pain and suffering the Vulcan had endured and the silent plea for her life and she knew the depravation Tara had endured was not an honorable act and she was in part responsible. “Hold,” she said as the soldier drew his disruptor. “Captain, I know I have said I am just an observer here, but Vulcan slaves are hard to come by. I pray that you would grant me this one indulgence.”
“Princess, your wish is my command,” he replied. “She is yours, gift from me to you, a symbol of my faithfulness to you and your mother the Empress.”
Two Years Later:
The Enterprise moved through space at something of a hurried pace. Sensors had picked up a Klingon battlecruiser closing on their position. Sulu was on watch when the ship was detected and was sitting in the captain’s chair. “Go to yellow alert. Increase speed to warp five,” he said as the elevator door opened.
“Status, Mr. Sulu,” James T. Kirk said as he and Spock stepped onto the bridge together.
“We have detected a Klingon battlecruiser on an intercept course with us. She was closing on us at warp 5; I’ve increased our speed to match them.
“Report Spock,” Kirk said as he sat down in the now vacant chair.
“A Klingon heavy battlecruiser D-7 series does appear to be trying to overtake us. It has just increased speed to warp seven. I am also picking up trace exhaust particles that may indicate that it is not alone. Possibly two other ships, cloaked, one off our port side just out of range, and the other on our starboard side and forward of us also out of range at this time.
“Thank you gentleman,” Kirk said. “Sulu, I believe you are needed at the helm. Go to red alert. Sulu, warp eight. Raise shields. Chekov, standby to fire phasers. On my command, I want a broad pattern of photon torpedoes the moment it becomes clear they intend to attack us. Target the ship on our starboard side.”
“The battlecruiser has gone to warp eight. The ship on our port side is now in range. It has disengaged its cloaking device,” Spock reported.
“Hard over, Sulu, take evasive action.”
“Scout class vessel has fired photon torpedoes,” Spock said.
“Chekov, fire. Lock the phasers on the scout and return fire.
“Captain, the second ship is a battlecruiser. Minimal damage from photons torpedoes,” Spock reported.
“Fire a photon spread to the rear. Lock forward tubes on the forward battlecruiser and fire as we come to bear,” Kirk responded.
“Both battlecruisers have fired photon torpedoes.”
“Hard to port, fire forward tubes!” Kirk yelled.
The Enterprise shook hard as the photon torpedoes impacted with the ship’s shields. The rear shields collapsed as another torpedo hit the shuttle bay.
“Damage report.”
“Shuttle bay has been destroyed and Starboard engine has sustained some damage,” Uhura reported.
“Get me Scotty,” Kirk said. “Sulu, slow to warp one, bring us about one hundred and eighty degrees. Chekov, prepare to fire photon torpedoes and phasers after we come about. Uhura advise Starfleet of our situation.”
“Mr. Scott, sir,” Uhura said.
“Captain, we’ve all but lost the starboard engine. It’s a miracle that it is still working at all. I can still give you warp drive if you don’t go faster than warp three,” Scotty’s voice crackled over the speaker.
“Coming about, sir,” Sulu reported.
“Fire when you have a target, Chekov,” Kirk said.
The Enterprise’s photon torpedoes and phasers found their mark and nearly cut the lead Klingon battlecruiser in half. “K’Vort class Bird of Prey coming up hard on our rear,” Spock said.
“Chekov, lock aft phasers on the scout and fire.”
“The Bird of Prey and battlecruiser are firing torpedoes.”
“Warp three now, Sulu bring us about again. Return fire,” Kirk said.
Phaser fire caught the Bird of Prey amidships and must have hit something vital; the ship exploded a moment after it had fired another round of photon torpedoes. The Enterprise took a glancing blow from the torpedoes shaking the ship hard.
“Damage report.”
“Shields holding, minor damage to outer hull. Main sensors are offline. Switching to secondary sensors now,” Spock replied. “The Klingon battlecruiser is breaking off and has gone to warp eight.”
“He knows we’re hurt, and he’s going to try and make a high speed pass. Sulu take us away from him at warp two,” Kirk said as he hit the intercom button. “Scotty, you there?”
“Aye, sir.”
“Can you give me warp five?”
“I could, but you could only sustain it for a few minutes at the most,” Scotty replied.
“Thanks Scotty, that’s all I’ll need,” Kirk said. “Warp five Mr. Sulu; prepare to come to a full stop on my command. Chekov, the Klingons should overshoot us. Fire everything we’ve got at them as they go by.”
“Klingons have gone to warp eight point two. Two hundred thousand kilometers and closing. One hundred thousand, fifty thousand, twenty thousand, ten thousand, one thousand, in range...”
“Now, Sulu, all stop. Chekov, fire.”
The Klingon battlecruiser fired just one moment too late as the Enterprise came to an abrupt halt. Its photon torpedoes missed cleanly and sailed passed well in front of the Enterprise. However, everything the Enterprise fired found its mark and the battlecruiser turned into a ball fire and metal debris.
“Direct hit,” Chekov reported with a touch of pride.
“Good shooting, Mr. Chekov,” Kirk replied. “Set course for the nearest Starbase, warp one. Get me Sickbay.”
“McCoy here,” the speaker crackled.
“How many, Bones?” Kirk asked.
“Sixteen dead, twenty three in serious condition, and forty seven minor injuries so far. Could have been worse, Jim.”
“There is still the question of why they attacked us in the first place, Bones,” Kirk said.
Qam-Chee, the First City of Qo'noS, the royal palace and traditional home of the Emperor and Empress of the Klingon Empire was the epitome of barbaric splendor. Many of the structures were more than 1000 years old and were blended almost seamlessly with modern additions for the sake of sentiment and tradition. What passed as the royal family in the Klingon Empire was more symbolic than a politically functioning part of the Empire. In truth, no emperor has sat upon the throne for more than 200 years and it was claimed that the recognized royal family were direct descendants of Kahless, the Unforgettable, and were awaiting his return. Hence, the Royal House of Kahless had status but little power to affect the outcome of any decision the Klingon High Council might make.
Because of the expected return of Kahless, no male family member was allowed to rule the House of Kahless. While women were not normally allowed to rule any of the houses of the Klingon Empire, for more than millennia an unbroken line of women directly descended from Kahless, and the Lady Lukara kept the Royal House of Kahless in a state of readiness awaiting their master’s return. To these women were given the honorific title of Empress. Despite the wealth and a small but elite army known as the Empress’s Guards, the Empress had become a meaningless symbol around which all the great and small noble houses of the Klingon Empire revolved.
Even though the Empress was but a flag that was taken out and waived on special holidays; she was still a cherished symbol of the Empire. The possibility of peace with the Federation did not sit well with many of those within the great houses of the Klingon Empire. There were those within the palace wall that sought to destroy the fragile peace.
General K’lgar was as ruthless as Klingons come and he had wormed his way to the top of the pile by supporting the House of Duras. Now, he was a general that commanded the might of the Klingon Empire. “Nothing must go wrong,” he said. “One mistake, someone talks, our heads will adorn the palace walls.”
“Nothing can go wrong, General, all are loyal to the cause,” Brigadier Kratok said. That the Brigadier had an office in the royal palace spoke to the fact that he was in some small way related to the House of Kahless, a relationship he exploited to its fullest.
“Loyalty can be bought or sold,” K’lgar said.
“Not to fear. With the exception of myself, all others are in space and will stay there until we destroy the Empress and her guards and seize control of the Empire for ourselves,” Kratok replied.
Tara had spent much of the day hunting with Ashalara and now she was returning from the kitchen with drinks and snacks for the two of them to enjoy before retiring for the evening. While officially Tara was a slave, neither Ashalara nor the Empress, her mother, ever treated her as they did the other servants. Some part of her thought of herself as part of the royal family. As she passed one of the many doors in the palace, she heard someone mention the Empress and she stopped beside the door to hear more.
“What of those still loyal to the Empress, have you disposed of them yet?” K’lgar asked.
“I have sent them, and anyone else that might cause us problems, out to hunt down Kirk in the name of the Empress and the Empire to punish the criminal for his well-known crimes against the Empire,” Kratok replied. “Kirk has not disappointed me; he has destroyed three ships full of loyalists. Those who find Kirk will most likely die. Those who do not will be out of the way anyway. Any who are left will die with the Empress.”
“There is still much that can go wrong between now and the time the Empress tours the Neutral Zone,” K’lgar said as he noticed the shadow of someone at the door. He walked quietly over to the door.
“I have planned for everything, General, what could go wrong?” Kratok asked.
Jerking the door open K’lgar grabbed Tara and threw her to the floor inside the room and shut the door. “We could be overheard,” he said.
“Let’s kill her and be done with it,” Kratok said as he pulled his disruptor from his belt.
“No, not here, this is Ashalara’s slave. She would turn the palace upside down to find her. Kill her, get rid of her, do whatever you like, but not here, not now. In fact, it would be wiser to find someone else to do the deed,” K’lgar said. “If someone must point a finger it would be a good idea if that finger could be pointed far from us, don’t you agree, Brigadier.”
“I know just the man,” Kratok said. “His greed knows no bounds. If he does not kill her, she will wish she were dead.”
“Good, I’ll leave her in your in your hands,” K’lgar said as he turned and left the room.
“Vulcan slaves do bring a high price,” Kratok said with a smile as he adjusted his disruptor to the stun setting and pulled the trigger.
Davison’s planet in the Neutral Zone was home to cutthroats, pirates, and other criminal and mercenary types. If it was illegal or immoral and could be sold you could buy it. Dave’s Town was the principle city on Davison’s planet and also the only spaceport. Most of the planet was unexplored and sparsely inhabited.
Downtown Dave’s Town had the look of an urban ghetto cobbled together out of steel shipping containers. Most of the businesses consisted of bars, brothels, and motels with smattering of mercantile and starship parts and repair shops thrown in for color. Down one of the many dark and dirty streets that radiated out from the town’s center, a man suddenly came flying out of a tavern window. He got right back up, shook some of the glass off, and reentered the tavern through the now broken window. A moment later he was ejected from the building again through another window. This time he got back up a little more slowly and walked back over to the window and stood there for a moment debating the wisdom of reentering the tavern and the ongoing fight inside. He stood there for only a moment when phaser fire erupted from inside the building starting with a blast just above his head at the top of the windowsill. The man drew his own phaser as he dove for cover and rolled to the other side of the window and looked quickly inside to see if someone one was trying to kill him or if it was just a stray shot. Inside the tavern the bartender was shooting at some of the already broken furniture, and a few select customers in order to stop the fight.
Darrel, short for Darien Rellen, was a big powerful man who stood out in most crowds. It had taken a couple of men to push him through the window the first time. The second time it was his own fault as he lost his balance avoiding a chair that was flung in his direction. As he stumbled backward, he tripped over an unconscious patron lying on the floor behind him and that sent him crashing through the other window. “I need to be going anyway,” he said to himself as he holstered his phaser.
Pulling a well-worn black cloak about himself Darrel began to wander the streets of Dave’s Town. He stopped and chatted with shopkeepers and friends along the way. Occasionally, he would stop in a bar here and there for a drink and to listen to the rumors whispered in the dark corners of those places. Such information was useful in his line of work.
Just outside the spaceport he stopped in an open air market. The largest shop in the market belonged to slavers and it was here that the market for slaves flourished in this section of the galaxy. Darrel’s hatred for the slavers almost showed through his mask of indifference. A young woman was sold at auction as he watched.
“Now, we have a very special prize for you,” Auctioneer announced. “A rarity not often seen here, a young female Vulcan.” Tara was led up onto a small platform where she stood in tattered clothes next to the auctioneer. “See how beautiful she is, how delicate, with skin ever so soft. Rumor has it that she was once a slave to the Empress herself. Now, who will start the bidding?”
“A hundred darseks,” came one bid from the back of the gathered crowd.
“A hundred darseks is an insult. She is easily worth ten times that,” the Auctioneer replied.
Darrel moved toward the platform and Tara. “Now, that would depend on how you came to have her in your possession. I’ll give you two hundred darseks and take my chances that the Empress doesn’t come looking for her,” he said.
“Three hundred darseks,” someone yelled out.
“I have three hundred darseks. Do I hear four?
“Four hundred.”
“Five hundred.”
“One thousand darseks,” Darrel said trying to bring a quick end to the bidding.
“I have one thousand darseks. Who will make it two?” the Auctioneer asked.
“Fifteen hundred.”
“Two thousand.”
“Twenty five hundred,” someone shouted. Darrel began to suspect there was at least one shill in the crowd to drive up the price when needed.
“Three thousand,” responded one of the more persistent bidders.
“I have a bid of three thousand decals. Do I hear four?” the Auctioneer said. “No? Three thousand once. Three thousand twice...”
“Five Thousand darseks,” Darrel bid. He was tiring of this game.
“Six thousand,” was the rebounding bid.
“Ten Thousand.”
“Eleven thousand.”
“Twenty thousand darseks!” Darrel said hoping he had put the bid beyond the reach of the man bidding against him.
“I have a bid of twenty thousand darseks. Do I hear more?” the Auctioneer asked. “Twenty thousand darseks once. Twenty thousand darseks twice. Sold to the gentleman for twenty thousand darseks. Sir, see the man inside to settle the account.”
Darrel walked around the auction platform and entered the shop behind the auction block as Tara was led off and taken back to her cell. Inside other men and women of various alien species were waiting in cells to be sold. Some prospective buyers were looking them over. Darrel walked over to a small man seated behind a desk. “Can I help you?” he asked.
“I’m here for the Vulcan woman,” Darrel replied gruffly.
“Oh yes, twenty thousand darseks. Cash card sir?” the man requested with a smile. Darrel handed his card to him.
“Oh my,” the man said as he saw Darrel’s credit balance.
“Something wrong?” Darrel asked.
“No sir, too bad we don’t have four more just like her,” the man replied.
“Five ex-slaves of Empress, that would be something to see,” Darrel said. “The Empress would turn this planet into space dust if she found out where they all went.
“I take your point, name please.
“Darrel.”
“Occupation?”
“Do you really need to know these things considering slaves are illegal almost everywhere but here?” Darrel asked.
“Normally, we don’t care sir, but the seller seems to care and has paid us to collect that information,” the man explained. “So, your occupation please?”
“Which one?” Darrel replied. “Bounty hunter, mercenary, or Guard to the Empress?”
“Guard to the Empress?” the man repeated with a little fear in his voice.
“Good choice. Nice title isn’t it, kind of catchy. I got it when I saved the Empress’s life a few years ago. I don’t have much use for it, though it has gotten me out of confinement a few times.”
The man behind the desk relaxed a little. “Guard to the Empress, I never met one. You can pick the girl up back there in the holding cells, sir,” he said handing Darrel his cash card back.
“Thanks.” Darrel walked back to the holding cells. “I’m here for the Vulcan girl” he said to the guard.
“Yes sir, this way,” the guard replied as he led Darrel to Tara’s cell and turned off the force field. “You out!” he yelled at her.
The moment Darrel and Tara exited through the back door Darrel took out his communicator. “Phoenix, this is Darrel, two to beam up,” he said.
The Phoenix, Darrel’s spaceship, looked like a hybrid of a dozen different ships, mostly Klingon and Federation in design. Warp drive engines sitting side by side with only a narrow section between them. The Phoenix could do speeds up to warp fifteen for a short time with a sustained rate of warp nine. The front section and the two wings that held the warp engines contained the sensors, four forward photon torpedo tubes, and ten phaser canons with two photon torpedo tubes in the rear of the ship. It was a small heavily armored ship armed to the teeth, designed for heavy combat. Inside, the ship had ten two man cabins, four single cabins and the captain’s quarters. The transporter looked small but could beam up twenty five people at once and hold them in buffers while beaming ten more down at the same time. Darrel and Tara materialized in the transporter room.
“Follow me,” Darrel said as he stepped off the transporter pad.
Almost robotically Tara followed him out of the room and down the narrow hallway to the ship’s bridge. Fate had stripped her of who she was and now only an empty shell remained. She had already suffered a fate no woman should have to endure and expected the same kind of brutality from the man before her.
“Pick a chair,” Darrel said as he sat down in the captain’s chair. Tara just stood there with a sad blank look on her face waiting for whatever fate had in store for her.
“What’s your name?” Darrel asked softly when the girl did not sit down.
“Tara.”
“Tara, please sit down. I have a few questions I need to ask you.”
“Questions?” Tara replied confused as she slowly sank down into a nearby chair.
“Were you a slave in the Empress’s household?” Darrel asked.
“I served her daughter.”
“Ashalara?”
“Yes, she’s my friend; she saved my life a long time ago.”
Darrel had never met Ashalara’s slave, but he knew of her. He knew enough about Ashalara to know she would never punish a slave by sending her off to be sold on Davison’s planet. “Tara, I must ask you questions now that may cause you pain in remembering. I have not been permitted official entry into the Klingon Empire for some time now. In times past, I came and went with ease. I must find out what happened, do you understand?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“How did you get here?”
“Spaceship.”
“I asked for that,” Darrel said with a smile meant to put the girl at ease. “What I mean is who brought you here and what is the reason behind your being here? I need to know names and places. It would be best if you would start from the time you were at the Empress’s palace and tell me everything that has happened to you from that time forward.”
“I was on my way back to my room from the palace kitchen when I heard or rather overheard two men talking,” Tara replied. “One had just said something about the destruction of the Empress and her guard. People loyal to the Empress were being sent out to hunt down someone named Kirk. This was expected to get them killed. This Kirk is some sort of criminal and is wanted for crimes against the Empire. He must be a very dangerous man; he has already caused the destruction of three Klingon ships. Those that this Kirk does not kill are supposed to die with the Empress. I was caught listening.”
“Do you know who the men are?”
“Yes, General K’lgar and Brigadier Kratok.”
“What happened after you were caught?” Darrel asked.
“I don’t know I was stunned,” Tara replied. “Kratok gave me to another Klingon and told him to tell A’chan that he wanted to know who it was that bought me and wanted a percentage of whatever they sold me for. The Klingon injected me with something that put me to sleep. I did not wake up again for what may have been many days.” Tara was silent for a while remembering what A’chan did to her. “For what A’chan and his men did to me they will die very slowly should we meet again,” she finally said.
“Phoenix, analyze the statement just given,” Darrel seemed to say to the air.
“Analysis complete,” Phoenix’s computer replied after a moment of thought.
“Report.”
“General K’lgar and Brigadier Kratok and others yet unknown intend to kill the Empress, her personal guards, and anyone loyal to her. Possibly an attempt to gain control of the Klingon Empire for themselves or some other person yet unidentified. According to records, orders were given to find and destroy the Enterprise and James T. Kirk.”
“Brigadier Kratok is in command of what?”
“He is in charge of the central administration of the Klingon Military High Command and is the liaison between the royal house and the military. It should be noted that he is distantly related to the House of Kahless and briefly served with the Empress’s Guards.”
“And K’lgar?”
“He is the military commander of the Klingon Empire second only to the Chancellor. He is of one of the many minor houses of the Klingon Empire. It is not known to which of the great houses his loyalty lies. It is reasonable to assume that he could not attain his current position without the aid of one or more of the great houses.”
Kratok was talking to the face on his office view screen. “A’chan, my friend, how did the sale go?” he asked.
“Better than expected, twenty thousand darseks. Twice what she was worth, my friend,” A’chan replied.
“Did you find out who bought the girl as I requested?”
“A mercenary by the name of Darrel.”
“I’ve heard that name before,” Kratok said. “What’s his listed occupation?”
“By all the Gods it’s not possible,” A’chan replied with great surprise.
“What’s not possible? What does the man do?”
“He listed his occupation as Guard to the Empress.”
“I knew I had heard the name before,” Kratok said rather agitated. “Computer, display the record of Empress’s Guard Darrel.”
“Darrel, human, last name unknown,” the computer said as it began to spit out facts. “He received an appointment to the Empress’s Guard for saving the life of the Empress at great personal risk to his own. The Empress has summoned him to her on three known occasions for reasons unknown. He has also fought in six campaigns for the Empire and aided in putting down two rebellions. Decorated six times, three by the Empress herself. Major occupations: mercenary, bounty hunter, information broker and is suspected as a spy for Starfleet Command although no proof has been offered to substantiate this claim. Darrel is still listed as an active member of the guard, holds the rank of Commander and is the highest paid of all the guard members.”
“Damn you, A’chan, the worst possible person... Find out where he is now and report back to me,” Kratok snapped at the Klingon on the view screen.
“Who is this Darrel person? Surely his occupation is a jest on his part,” A’chan said.
“A’chan, you have just sold a stolen slave of the Empress’s daughter to the only guard the Empress would totally trust with her life,” Kratok said. “We are all walking dead men unless Darrel can be killed.”
“Why are we going to Earth?” Tara asked. “We have to warn the Empress.”
“If we tried to go through the Empire, we would be dead long before we could warn anyone,” Darrel replied. “I am not exactly unknown to the Klingon Military High Command. The Empress will start her tour of the Neutral Zone soon.”
“How do you know that? Only the Empress, Ashalara, and the personal guards to the Empress know when she will leave.”
“I know. Empress’s Guards all know the Empress’s itinerary. As a member of that guard, I received her schedule three months ago. The Empress, her daughter, the guard, seventeen members of the Klingon High Council including the Chancellor will visit the Neutral Zone. We have time to get to Earth and back before K’lgar springs his trap.”
“I am picking up two Klingon scout ships and a battlecruiser on long range sensors,” Phoenix announced.
“Identify.”
“B'rel class Birds of Prey, GhochwI’ and Da’nal, light battlecruiser, GhetwI’.”
“Communications, Phoenix calling GhochwI’. Come on Celestial Tracker, I know you’re out there, O’mri, answer me,” Darrel said.
“Darrel, I always thought you were a spy,” the stern looking Klingon on the main view screen replied. O’mri was from one of the minor houses of the Klingon Empire, but he was a Klingon who embraced honor and duty to the Empire above all else. His crew was a reflection of himself and though they served a minor house in the Empire, their pride in their house was without question. O’mri and his men were true Klingons who lived to serve for the good of the Empire.
“Is that any way to greet a friend to whom you and half your crew owe life to?” Darrel asked with a smile.
“Do not evade the issue, Darrel,” O’mri replied. “We have our orders.”
“I know the orders that sent you out here and I can guess at the orders you must have now. With the life of the Empress hanging in the balance I have no time to stop and play. You still have the scrambler I gave you.”
“Yes, what did you mean when you said the Empress’s life hangs in the balance?”
“O’mri, I’ll have to talk to you later,” Darrel said. “We are getting too close together. Phoenix, target the port engine of the GhochwI’, both engines of the GhetwI’, and center mass of the Da’nal. O’mri?
“Yes.”
“Stay uncloaked so I can make this shot as accurate as possible,” Darrel said. “I’m tracking Da’nal’s exhaust now and unless he turns off his cloaking device, I will have to shoot him center mass.”
“Sure, why not, you know we’re here anyway,” O’mri replied.
“Thanks, talk to you later. Phoenix, go to warp fifteen now. Fire on my command... Fire.”
The firepower of the small ship caught the Klingons by surprise. Photon torpedoes turned the GhetwI’s engines into twisted chunks of scrap metal and they spun helplessly out of control. The Da’nal got caught in a turn and was hammered into scrap metal by a half dozen photon torpedoes. The Phoenix cycled through its phasers to cut its way through shields and armor plate to severe the Gnocchi’s left wing and engine from the ship.
“Phoenix, reduce speed to warp five,” Darrel commanded. “Phoenix calling GhochwI’, O’mri, are you alright?”
“Yeah, were ok, you hit us pretty hard though,” O’mri said as he came on the view screen. “I knew the Phoenix was fast, but warp fifteen, I expected warp eight or ten.”
“Turn the scrambler on.”
“It’s on.”
“O’mri, if you throw a tractor beam on your engine you should be able to pull it in and reattach it well enough to give you warp drive again.”
“Warp two if I push it.”
“I want you to go to Starbase 11,” Darrel said. “You’re four days away at warp one. They will be waiting for you. They will fix it so your ship looks worse than it does now, but they will also repair your ship so it can do warp three or better. I want you to go back home and stay as close to the Empress as you can get. If I’m right, you will be assigned to her escort when she goes to the Neutral Zone. If you have any trouble at the Starbase, the code: alpha 1, priority red one, condition red one, alpha 1117 bravo, told exactly as I have phrased it to any computer console should clear everything up. Or, at the very least put the Starbase on red alert which can only be downgraded to yellow at the starbase commander’s discretion. If you play your cards right, you should be able to return home a hero.”
“If you’re right and I end up in the Empress’s escort, what am I looking for?” O’mri asked.
“Bad guys pretending to be good guys. I’m betting nothing will happen until you reach the Neutral Zone. You guys relax and have a good time while you’re at the Starbase, it’s on me. I will send you an encrypted memory-chip. It will explain to you and your men what is going on and what I need you to do. Trust me.”
“I still think you’re a spy, but I’d trust you with my life,” O’mri said.
Federation starship Wasp traveled at a leisurely rate outbound from Earth ferrying some minor diplomats home after a Federation conference. “Captain, I’m tracking an unidentified ship on course to Earth from the Klingon Empire moving at warp eight,” the crewman whose duty it was to monitor the ship’s sensor station said.
“Open haling frequencies. This is the captain of the Federation Starship...”
“...Wasp,” the voice said finishing the sentence. “This is the Phoenix and I have no time for this.”
On the bridge of the Phoenix, Darrel set his coffee cup down. “Phoenix, transmit the command code for the Wasp and go to warp ten; lock them up so they can’t bother us as we go by.”
The bridge of the Wasp was now very active as they tracked the small ship. “Captain, the ship just went to warp ten,” a crewman reported.
“Phoenix, I must insist that you reduce speed and identify yourself. Prepare to fire a warning shot on my command,” the captain said.
“The ship has increased speed to warp fifteen.”
“Fire the warning shot, bring us around and lock on target.”
Suddenly the ship seemed to go dead. “Captain, helm doesn’t answer control,” the helmsman said as he stabbed at buttons on his control panel trying to get them to work.
“Fire controls are locked,” the weapons officer reported. “We couldn’t shoot a fly, Captain.”
“Vernon, sorry to lock your ship up like that but I’m in a hurry.”
“Who the hell are you, how do you know my name?” the captain asked. “Where’s the ship now?”
“Just leaving scanner range.”
“Call Starfleet and tell them they have a ship coming at them doing warp ten plus,” the captain said as his ship began to come back to life. “Tell them the ship was identified as the Phoenix. Also advise them that the ship has some kind of device that enabled them to disable our ship.”
Starfleet Headquarters Communications Center was alive with activity as they tracked a small inbound ship headed directly for Earth at high warp. The Admiral walked into the room looking half asleep and in truth he had been woken out of a sound sleep. “Admiral, on deck,” someone yelled.
“At easy,” the Admiral responded with a yawn. “Now, someone bring me up to speed.”
“A ship named the Phoenix is calling, Admiral, he’s coming at us at warp nine,” the officer in charge replied from his station. “He won’t talk to anyone but an admiral and threatens to use an alpha code if I didn’t wake one up. Hell, I had to look it up to see what an alpha code is. I’m sorry I had to wake you up, sir.”
“It’s alright son, you did the right thing. Now, let me talk to him,” the Admiral said. “Alright, Phoenix, you got your admiral.”
“About time! I’ve got an alpha priority here. I need you to get a couple of people for me. First, Captain James T. Kirk, tell him he can bring anybody he wants with him. Next, find an engineer nickname Scotty I don’t know the rest of his name, never asked and I needed them on Earth yesterday...,” the voice on the speaker replied.
“Now, hold on son, I’m not going to get anything or anyone until I find out who you are,” the Admiral interrupted.
“Are you nuts? I’m not going to tell you anything on an open channel. Put a headset on and go to a coded channel.”
“Well, I’m not going to do a damn thing until you tell me who you are.”
“Alright, you asked for it,” the voice said. There was the sound of a high pitch squeal of computer talking to computer for a moment. “Computer, this is an alpha red one alert priority, red-1-condition-red-1-red-red-red, computer command control code, red-1-1-1-A-red, acknowledge.”
“Acknowledged,” the computer replied.
“Admiral, you want to change channels and put on a headset now?” the voice asked.
“Well, a...,” the Admiral stuttered as he began to speak.
“Acknowledge, Admiral. The final computer code will take it out of your hands and leave all of Starfleet in red alert.”
“Acknowledged, this had better be good,” the Admiral said. “Get me a headset and a coded channel.”
“My name is Darien Rellen, code name Darrel, I’m a secret agent for the Federation Security Council,” Darrel said after Admiral switched over to a secure channel. “The possibility of war with the Klingon Empire should be a good enough reason. With the right people and equipment, I think I can stop it.”
The Admiral frowned, he knew the Federation Security Council had secret agents in the field, but he had never met one until now and the news he brought was really bad news. “Alright, Phoenix, give me your list again,” he said.
At Starbase 4 the Enterprise was undergoing repairs from its recent encounter with the Klingons. On the bridge Kirk sat in his chair doing nothing in particular as he stared at the main view screen. He glanced over when he heard the elevator door open. A young officer in a starched uniform he did not know stepped onto the bridge and headed his way.
“Captain Kirk, I have sealed orders for yourself and Commander Scott,” the officer said as he came to a halt.
“Scotty to the bridge,” Kirk said as he palmed the intercom button. “My orders, Lieutenant.”
“Yes sir.” The officer handed the captain one of the two packets he was holding.
“This must be some kind of a joke,” Kirk said after reading through the papers in the sealed packet. “Sealed orders just to return to Earth?”
“This is no joke sir. Starfleet Headquarters is on yellow alert,” the officer said with all seriousness.
A few moments later Scotty stepped through the elevator door. “What do you wana see me for, Captain?” he asked.
“Give him his orders, Lieutenant,” Kirk said.
“It says I’m to return to Earth to overhaul the Phoenix. I thought Darrel was a somebody, but not this kind of a somebody,” Scotty said a bit puzzled after reading his orders.
Kirk pushed the intercom button on his chair again. “Spock, Uhura, Sulu, Chekov, and McCoy meet me in the transporter room one,” he said. “Well Mr. Scott shall we go?”
“Now, Captain?”
“That’s what the orders say. Lieutenant, after you,” Kirk said.
“What’s up, Jim?” McCoy asked as he entered the transporter room.
“Your guess is as good as mine, Bones,” he replied.
“Where are we going, Captain?” Chekov asked.
“Back to Earth.”
“How are we getting there, sir?” Sulu asked.
“Courier ship,” Kirk replied.
“Fastest in Starfleet,” the Lieutenant said as he took his place on the transporter pad. “She can do warp fifteen to Earth and back without even working up a sweat.”
“Energize,” Kirk said once everyone was in place.
Courier ship’s transporter room was small, but it looked and smelled like it was new. “Welcome aboard, Captain,” the ship’s captain said greeting his guests.
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