"Coming out of warp," Aitra reports.
"Give me a tactical scan," I order. "And maintain battle cloaking as long as we can."
The main viewscreen flickers for an instant, and then clears. The Reman freighters show as green dots, strung out in a row; the attacking force is highlighted in white. We have not yet decided on a colour to represent the Hegemony... the least of our worries.
"What are your intentions?" Commander Yousest asks in his soft whispery voice. The Starfleet liaison officer's triangular orange head is turned towards me, the vestigial gills on his jawline fluttering with emotion.
"Defend the Remans," I say shortly. "Zdan, any further communications?"
"Automated distress calls from all six ships," Zdanruvruk answers from the comms station. His gargoyle face is screwed up into a worse scowl than usual. "Do you need a channel to the Hegemony ships?"
"Not just yet. We'll let them know we're here, though." I sketch out instructions on my command console. The attacking force comprises two flights of T'Varo light warbirds, which don't worry me - and a single D'deridex, which does. "Get in as close as we can. How much damage have the freighters taken already?"
"Reading two still with working warp drive," Sislyklut answers from main science. "They're providing covering fire for the cripples - picking off plasma torps. The Hegemony ships seem to be sticking to harassing fire for the moment...."
"Well, the convoy is worth nothing to them if they destroy it," I say. "Time to intercept?"
"Weapons range in two minutes," says Aitra.
"Target the D'deridex first - hit it hard, with everything we have." I glance at Yousest. "No, I do not propose to issue a formal challenge. There are lives at risk."
Yousest makes no reply. Sometimes I wish I knew how to read the expressions on that flat leathery face. His gills are rippling, but I can't tell what prompts that.
"Picking up broadcasts from the Hegemony ships," Zdanruvruk reports. "Seem to be aimed at the freighters."
"Let's hear them."
Zdanruvruk touches a control, and a voice fills the air: "- vessels, cargoes and personnel are now property of the Hegemony of Bresar. Resistance will not be tolerated. We repeat; attention, Remans. Surrender immediately. Your vessels, cargoes and personnel -" I make a sign to Zdanruvruk, and he cuts the voice off.
"In weapons range," Aitra reports. "No sign they've spotted us yet, sir."
"Get us closer, then." No sense abandoning any advantage before we have to. "Configure for maximum tactical advantage on decloak."
"Yes, sir." There is a certain grim satisfaction in Aitra's tone.
"Property," Zdanruvruk spits. I don't like the sound of that either.
"Closing," Aitra reports. "Range six triple zero... targeting locked... five triple zero... possible tachyon contact...." The enemy vessels will have some anti-cloaking measures out, I can be sure of that. If we are not certain of being concealed - we must now be certain we are noticed.
"Decloak and fire!"
The light shifts subtly on the bridge - and Messalina's bulk trembles as the plasma torpedoes come screaming out of her maw, while yellow-green tendrils of disruptor light reach out from her forward tines.
It works better than I had hoped. The disruptors rake through the D'deridex's shields, and at such close range, and coming from an unexpected direction, they bring those shields down - and the plasma torpedoes proceed unimpeded to their marks. The warbird's starboard nacelle vanishes in a blaze of superheated gas, then its lower hull shatters - and, suddenly, the core is breached, and Messalina's forward shields flare as the enemy ship implodes and vaporizes in its own quantum singularity.
"Break in on their transmission frequency!" The T'Varos are coming about, now, in response to this sudden new threat. Zdanruvruk says, "Frequency open, sir."
"Romulan vessels," I announce, "this is the RRW Messalina. Surrender now or be destroyed."
The light warbirds are not much of a threat... I am not fool enough to think no threat. "Incoming message," Zdanruvruk says. On the tactical display, one white dot is highlighted.
"On screen."
A Romulan face appears on the viewer, harsh and arrogant in expression. "The Hegemony of Bresar does not recognize the so-called Romulan Republic -"
I nod to Aitra, whose hands are already on the fire controls. Disruptor beams lash out from Messalina's spines, and the enemy spokesman vanishes from my screen as his ship explodes around him. "I say again," I say, "surrender or be destroyed. I am not here to argue."
"They're dropping shields." Sislyklut sounds almost disappointed.
"Prepare to receive boarding parties," I order the T'Varos over the comms channel. "Your crews are to disarm themselves. Any resistance will be met with armed force. Zdan," I cut the channel and turn to Zdanruvruk, "contact the freighters, find out what assistance they need. Aitra, Sislyklut, keep a sharp watch out - if these people have reinforcements coming in, I want to know about it."
Aitra nods, and Sislyklut says, "On it."
I force myself not to show nervousness as our shields drop while we transport over prize crews. If reinforcements arrive, we are at our most vulnerable.... "I have the convoy commander for you," Zdanruvruk says.
I'm grateful for anything which can cover my worries. "On screen."
The Reman commander is white-faced with rage. "We were attacked without warning!" she snaps. "These - Hegemony - people - they are nothing better than pirates!"
"We heard their demands," I say. "What's your status, and how can we help?"
"Their demands," the Reman mutters, "oh, yes, their demands. We have heard the like too many times before... and I tell you this, Romulan, we will not be slaves again. We will die first. Or kill."
"How can we help?"
The commander pulls herself together. "Four of my ships have taken heavy damage to their warp drives in the attack. Casualties are, fortunately, light, though any medical assistance you can offer will be welcome. But restoring warp capacity to the damaged craft -"
"Getting them to safety must be a priority," I say. "If necessary, we can strip components from some of the captured T'Varos - some of the units will be compatible, or we can make them so."
"That will no doubt help." The Reman commander draws herself upright. "Thank you for your assistance, Vice Admiral. It is a relief to know that some Romulans hold by their pledges to our people."
"Sir." Zdanruvruk breaks in from the comms console. "There's something of a situation with one of the captured ships."
I turn towards him. "If they're resisting, deal with them."
"They're not exactly resisting," Zdanruvruk says. "Sir - you'd better speak to this one yourself."
The image on the screen changes. I'm looking, now, at an austere middle-aged male face, commander's insignia visible on his uniform - still, I note, a gaudy Imperial-style uniform. "Vice Admiral T'Laihhae," he says, "I am Commander Sunot."
It takes a moment to register: not a Romulan name, not a Romulan face. Vulcan. "And?" I say, trying to sound as frigid and unresponsive as I can.
"You should be aware," Sunot says, "that you are detaining a Federation citizen as part of your military action."
"Thank you for your concern, Commander." It is very easy to stay frosty with him. "I am now aware of that."
"I wonder if you have considered the full implications of your actions in this context. The Federation and the Romulan Republic have certain mutual obligations -"
"If I may?" Yousest steps forward, his whispery voice louder than usual. "Speaking as the Starfleet liaison officer to Vice Admiral tr'Aellih, I can advise her as to the diplomatic issues involved."
"Please do, Commander Yousest." I try to sound composed, though I have no idea what's coming next.
"Thank you, sir. Federation law - and Vulcan law - on piracy and slaving is quite clear. And the Romulan Republic's right to protect its citizens from such depradations is also clear and uncontested. If you -" Yousest's flat face turns to Sunot "- engage in such illegal activities, then Federation citizenship will not protect you from the consequences. At the most, you may make representations, after your trial, to be repatriated to serve out your sentence in a Federation rehabilitation institute - for I have seen that you have participated in these crimes, and I do not doubt that you will be found guilty. And Starfleet will not interfere with Republic justice in order to protect the guilty."
Sunot is, at least, a true Vulcan; his face shows no emotion. "I see," he says. "Then there is nothing more to discuss." And he cuts the channel. I suppose it is only kindness, to allow him the one small gratification of having the last word.
I turn to Yousest. "Thank you, Commander."
Yousest inclines his head slightly. "I do not invariably approve of your actions, sir," he says, "but the rights and wrongs in this case seemed quite clear to me."
I nod, slowly. "But they will try something like this again," I muse, bleakly. "Let's hope the next Starfleet liaison officer to get involved... has your clarity of vision."
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