The blue-grey face with the rat-trap mouth glares at me from the main viewer. "You do not have permission," the Turei commander says.
"Neither, presumably, did the Vaadwaur ship we are pursuing," I point out. "Your cooperation would... help us to solve a crime, perhaps prevent more deaths."
"Perhaps." The rigid features of the Turei are not well designed for sneering, but this one manages it nonetheless. "The Underspace is the territory and prerogative of the Turei people. Your Alliance's provisional treaties accept this. If you choose to disregard those, to take what you wish - as the Vaadwaur do - then you must accept the consequences of that action."
"The Delta Alliance respects your people's rights, of course," I say. The temptation to remove this obstacle with a blast from my disruptors is strong, though. "If you withhold your permission, then we cannot pursue this Vaadwaur ship.... Rrueo submits to you, though, that whatever the Vaadwaur are doing, it is important to stop them."
"We will attend to that matter," says the Turei. "Since you have no reason to remain in this region of space any longer, I expect you to depart." And he closes the channel. I sit back, and do not repress a growl.
"We could take them -" K'Rokok begins.
"But it would be a major breach of our diplomatic agreements," I say, "and we have orders to respect those. Rrueo has no desire to create an interstellar incident... and Rrueo would prefer to keep her head on her shoulders, not on Chancellor J'mpok's trophy wall. We will depart, as this functionary instructs us. Do we have a probable locus for the exit from this underspace tunnel?"
"Four of them," says Oschmann in leaden tones. The Vaadwaur originally controlled the subspace corridors known as the Underspace, and it was only natural that one of their ships should head for such a bolthole. Unfortunately, it drew the attention of the current - owners - of the Underspace, and the Turei are very much inclined to stand on their rights. I contemplate the Turei cruiser hanging in space between me and the insubstantial gateway, and I itch with the urge to destroy it. But the Chancellor is somewhat brusque with officers who hinder his diplomatic efforts.... "Time to cover them all, via normal space?"
"At least ten days," says Oschmann. Her tones stay glum. The chance, even, of reacquiring the Vaadwaur ship's warp contrail is slim enough... but it is our only lead to date, and we must follow it.
"Plot a course to the nearest one, and proceed at maximum warp," I order. "A swift departure will no doubt please our ally there.... And prepare a subspace radio message for the USS Timor; tell them to expect a delay in our rendezvous and explain why. Use secure protocols, as normal - transmit in Code Seven along Delta Command's encrypted channels."
---
Time passes. Time passes, and I fret. We are active creatures, we Ferasans, and while we can lie patiently in wait for our prey, the lengthy boredom of a search or a stern chase sits ill with us.
Realistically, too, I suspect the search will be fruitless. Space is vast, the Vaadwaur ships travel fast, and our sensor data is incomplete in any event. Things are easier in the Alpha Quadrant, where there are co-operating authorities who log the movements of spacecraft within their notional boundaries. The late Captain Klur, when he launched his ill-advised attack on Bercera IV, spent much time and effort hiding his warp contrail in emission nebulae and stellar remnants - not to any good effect. But, here, there are no networks of sensor buoys, no sector-spanning traffic control, just the occasional local authority who may, or may not, be cooperative.
So, we reach the probable exit from the Underspace tunnel, and we scan, and we find nothing... and we move to the next probable exit, and we repeat the process, and I am practically living in my ready room, catching snatches of sleep at all hours of day and night....
It is after I awaken from one such nap that Oschmann brings a message from the Timor. Her tone, both of voice and of mind, is carefully neutral as she says, "The Timor's commander says that - I quote, sir - 'I have received your message and wish to meet with you soon to discuss matters at the location previously agreed'. That is all, sir."
I frown. "That is - odd. Unless that genetic reject has somehow become allergic to specifics. Wait. Was the message sent through an unsecured link, somehow?"
"It came through Delta Command's encrypted network as normal, sir."
"What game is the Caitian playing, that she must express herself so coyly?" I shake my head. "Well, we will no doubt find out in due time. Status?"
"Just approaching the third probable exit locus, sir, and about to drop out of warp." I grunt, and stalk out of the ready room, to take my seat in the command chair just as Brathana shivers back into normal space.
"Commencing detailed sensor sweep," Toriash rumbles from his post at the main science console. There is a trace of fatigue in his voice - well, this has been a weary time for us all. "Scanning for warp signatures and characteristic Underspace disturbances... I am not detecting either...."
"Our maps of the Underspace may well be inaccurate," mutters Oschmann.
"Continuing spherical sweep," says Toriash. Brathana's sensors will interrogate every cubic millimetre of the space around us, before I give up and move on. "Wait. Sensor response -" His head turns suddenly towards me. "Extreme range, but positive. Ships, incoming on an approach vector."
"Yellow alert. Raise shields and go to defensive posture," I order. Better safe than sorry, in this part of space. I toy with the idea of cloaking, but... no. If the ships are coming for us, they know we are here, and too many Delta species use wide-area barrages for me to be comfortable without shields.
"Scanning energy signatures," says Toriash. "Type identification... confirmed. Vaadwaur. One assault cruiser and three light assault vessels."
"Red alert."
Lights flash; the tactical display comes to life, illustrating trajectories, weapon ranges, targeting envelopes.... The Vaadwaur task force is substantial enough to worry me. I have seen how those ships can fight.
"Incoming hail," Oschmann reports.
"On screen."
The Vaadwaur commander views me with hard and glittering eyes; his expression is feral. "I gather you are looking for a Vaadwaur vessel," he says, without preamble. "Well. Now that you have found one, what will you do?"
I turn my head to one side, speaking to Toriash. "Do we have any matches for the warp signature we were following?"
"Negative," Toriash answers.
I turn back to the viewscreen. "It seems," I say, projecting a confidence that I do not feel at all, "that you are not the Vaadwaur that Rrueo is looking for. So, you are free to depart. Go about your business."
"Today," says the Vaadwaur, "my business is to administer a lesson to certain arrogant Alphans -" He stops, and looks offscreen in startlement.
"Fresh sensor contacts," Toriash announces. "Inbound on vector seven niner mark six."
Vaadwaur reinforcements? But my opponent is as surprised as I am -
"Incoming hail, sir," says Oschmann.
I sigh. "On screen."
The screen splits. On one side, the Vaadwaur commander, his sharp-featured face twisting into a snarl of fury; on the other, a bulky figure in black armour, eyes gleaming through the open visor of a helmet -
"Prey. I am Alpha Gronaj. These are my hunting grounds, and I trust you will be worthy quarry. The hunt begins."
I cut the channels with an irritated flick of my paw. The screen goes blank.
"Mother told me there'd be days like this," Oschmann mutters.
---
The Hirogen battle group consists of an Apex battleship with three frigate consorts. The hunters' vessels are boring straight towards us, fast. The Vaadwaur ships, quick and agile despite their great age, are shifting position - and their intentions are only too apparent. They are aiming to keep us between them and the oncoming Hirogen. Their intention, evidently, is to have the Brathana destroyed in crossfire.
I do not propose to cooperate with this plan. But I am now outnumbered eight to one, and there is no prospect of making common cause with one attacker against the other. Both Vaadwaur and Hirogen can be trusted only to try to kill us.
"Hard about. Target the Apex." Brathana has a number of interesting new features, and they are about to get their first proper test. "Evasive, vector niner eight by two." A predictable effort to squeeze out from between the two opposing forces. Predictable, therefore easily countered, therefore - hopefully - they will not anticipate the next move.
I watch the sensor repeaters, waiting for the telltale spikes of targeting pings from the Vaadwaur torpedo launchers. The Hirogen are closing fast, their tetryon beams already tracing blue lines through the night -
"Turn for the Apex now. Intercept course. Target forward weapons and fire."
Slightly less predictable, I hope. Warning lights flash on my console. The beam weapons from both sets of enemies are beginning to bite into my shields - and those Hirogen tetryon beams bite hard at shields. Moreover, we are turning into that barrage, and if I misjudge matters, the Hirogen will strip our shields to nothing just in time for the Vaadwaur to unleash a polaron barrage against us.
So, my choices are simple. Judge correctly, or die. Simple. But not easy.
The Hirogen battleship looms large in my viewer. The Vaadwaur targeting pings are coming faster, more intense. Brathana shudders as a tetryon beam rakes her port shield. More impacts on the rear shield - pulses of Vaadwaur polaron weapons. Structural integrity dips a percentage point or two; my hull is starting to suffer stress.
And the Vaadwaur are launching torpedoes....
"Hargh'peng and kinetic magnet, on the Apex, now! Steer two niner seven by two one!"
The Hargh'peng torpedo is one of the KDF's most powerful conventional weapons - but there is nothing conventional about the kinetic magnet; it is a completely inaccurate name for an intelligence warfare package that confuses IFF and targeting, identifying its target as the nearest and most tempting one for any missiles in the vicinity. And the Vaadwaur do so love their tricobalt torpedoes -
Brathana twists aside and away, disruptor arrays spitting green light at her attackers - and the cargo of death unleashed by the Vaadwaur, intended for us, slams home instead into the Hirogen battleship. Silhouetted by explosions, wreathed in the flares from its failing shields, the Apex rocks and vents air and flames from a dozen hull breaches. The lurid violet glare of the Hargh'peng radiation is almost lost in the dazzle. Perhaps Gronaj's mother warned him there would be days like this, too.
But the Apex is by no means out of the fight yet. More lines of light shoot from it, spreading out, resolving themselves suddenly into menacing shapes - photonic warships, combat holograms which channel the mother ship's warp core to power weapons arrays of their own. The Hirogens' firepower is, briefly, multiplied considerably, and that will tell -
"Intelligence analysis complete. Weapons siphon available," Oschmann reports.
"Activate!"
Another misnomer; the intelligence subroutines identify the Hirogen weapons and shields frequencies, enabling us to neutralize their beams more effectively, and use ours to greater effect. It is as though we stole part of their weapons power and used it for ourselves. Our disruptors stab through the failing shields of the Apex, savaging the hull. My own shields are still weak, though, and the impacts on my hull are a constant worrying rumble.
But we are not the only ones shooting, and one of the Vaadwaur assault vessels has moved forward of the main force - too far forward. Its polaron weapons are blazing, enough to attract attention - and the Hirogen take their chance. For a moment, the full firepower of every Hirogen ship, real and photonic, is concentrated on that one vessel - and a moment is all it takes to blast it out of existence.
"Helm." I sketch in a course on the tac display. "This."
The death of one of their ships is enough to provoke the Vaadwaur into a fury of vengeance. Space seethes and boils with blast after blast from their polaron artillery. Brathana rocks and judders, and there is the flash-bang of a transient EM surge from a console on the bridge - and another, and another. My shields are stripped to nothing now by the Hirogen assault, and the damage control board shows the barrage telling on my ship -
"Shields down! Hull breaches decks four through six! Fire in maintenance bay two!" K'Rokok is reeling off the damage like a machine himself. But the drives are still working, and the ship swings around on the course I set, keeping the blazing ruin of the Apex battleship between us and the Vaadwaur.
My shields are already down; the Hirogen cannot last much longer; it is time. "Battle cloak now!"
Brathana shimmers into invisibility just as the Apex's warp core goes. Brilliant light shines through us, but the ship is beyond - barely beyond - the damaging radius of the explosion. The Hirogen and the Vaadwaur are trading body blows, but, with the battleship and its photonic consorts gone, it is all up for the light Seeker-class frigates. The Vaadwaur take their revenge, bloodily and methodically.
I glance around. Fire suppression has taken care of the burning consoles, but there is still a haze of smoke in the bridge's air. The damage control readouts make grim viewing. But Brathana is still functional, her weapons and drive still working... and we have a breathing space, while the Vaadwaur finish their work.
"They will track our warp signature if we leave," Oschmann says. "Sir -"
"Rrueo has no intention of leaving," I snarl. "As for their finding us, Rrueo intends that they should. Rrueo will announce her presence in no uncertain terms. Helm. Swing us around behind the assault cruiser."
We are battered, leaking air, and still outnumbered... and I hear the low mutter, sense the approval growing around the bridge. I lean forward in the command chair, and I know my eyes are smouldering in the ruddy light.
Brathana comes about. K'Rokok slams his hand on the side of his console, again and again, a pounding rhythm to which the other Klingons begin to chant, softly at first, then louder and louder. Toriash shrugs. Oschmann favours them all with a thin-lipped smile, and turns her attention back to her console.
The Hirogen are dead - the Vaadwaur take no prisoners. The fight has cost them, though, another light assault vessel, and both the cruiser and the remaining light craft have taken substantial damage. They are casting about, sensors visibly active.
"They're looking for us," Oschmann says.
I check. We are in position. "Let them find us."
We decloak at point-blank range, disruptors blazing at both ships. The light assault vessel stands no chance; it dies in a burst of blue flame. That leaves us and the cruiser. One on one - both damaged, but both determined.
A volley of polaron fire rips into us. Somehow, engineering has restored some of my fore shields; they are torn to shreds in an instant, and flames blossom along our forward hull. The Vaadwaur ship is turning, trying to present his powerful forward artillery. Brathana still has agility, though, and we cling to his rear arc, sending bolt after bolt from the disruptors, firing the Hargh'peng as fast as the tube will take it. I hardly notice the fresh explosions on the bridge, the flickering of the lights, the shuddering as my ship is pounded -
"Vaadwaur's drive is down!" someone yells. "Power levels dropping! We've crippled them!"
"Tractor beam." I think my face has frozen in a snarl.
Blue light reaches from my ship to grip the Vaadwaur cruiser. "Comms. Hail them."
The Vaadwaur commander's face appears once more on my screen. The expression on it is an indescribable compound of rage, grief, and sheer astonishment. Behind him, I can see his bridge in flames.
"This is an auspicious day for you," I purr. "Rrueo has questions for you, and you may, therefore, live to answer them. Power down what remains of your ship and surrender."
He answers only with a wordless snarl. He reaches for some control, out of my field of vision -
The Vaadwaur cruiser twists and turns in the tractor beam - I feel the kinetic surges as it tries to break loose, to escape. And then, suddenly, there is no more resistance. The cruiser's structural integrity fails, and its spine snaps, and the whole vessel breaks asunder.
"Repulsors! Evade!" I screech.
Still caught in the tractor beam, a huge burning chunk of the Vaadwaur's hull comes hurtling towards us. Proximity alarms scream. Oschmann hits her console, shouting a string of oaths, and the main deflector flares with overload power, and Brathana twists aside just in time, the fragment swooping over us to streak off into the depths of space. The ship rocks and judders as smaller pieces strike the hull, a cacophony of booms and clatters sounding all around us.
"Steadying," murmurs K'Rokok, as the din fades to silence. "Reading no life signs in the wreckage, sir."
I spit with frustration. Then I bring myself back under control. "Begin repairs. Let me know the worst of the damage, and how long it will take to fix it. And prepare a casualty list. Sensors. Keep a vigilant watch."
---
Hours pass. The damage is... extensive.
It is Oschmann who brings me the final report, in my ready room. Her face is carefully blank, but her mind-tone is... troubled.
"We are fully operational," she says.
"But?" I ask.
"We've used a lot of our stock of non-replicateable spares," Oschmann says bluntly. "Right now, engineering is below establishment minimum. That wouldn't matter, normally - they're there to be used -"
"But we are a very long way from home, and resupply bases are few and far between," I finish for her. "Rrueo is aware of this. Rrueo, therefore, will try hard not to be caught unawares again."
"That - would be wise, sir."
"Rrueo knows this. Rrueo has also had time to think on other matters." I regard her through slitted eyes. "The Vaadwaur knew we were searching, knew where to find us. How?"
"It could only be through some sort of security breach, sir."
"Quite. At first, I wondered if the Caitian had been loose-lipped... but, no. That is why she was so circumspect in her message. She knew the communications channel was compromised. How did she know, and how much else does she know?"
Oschmann frowns. "If our secure comms channels have been breached -"
"Then we cannot discuss the matter on them. Rrueo knows." I sigh. "It seems a personal meeting with the Caitian... is now a matter of urgency."
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