Fallout 38

"I still can't believe I let you talk me into this," the Caitian grumbled, as he led the way through the tangle of storerooms and maintenance corridors beneath King Estmere's starboard launch bay.

Kluthli laughed. "Orion wiles." She reached up with her free hand to scratch H'Russ's ear. The Caitian responded with a throaty purr. "No... it wasn't that. I wouldn't do that to a crewmate. But... you understand, don't you?"

"Yes," said H'Russ, "yes, I guess I do. And - well, I guess the Admiral would, too, wouldn't she?"

"Andorians do understand these things," said Kluthli. "And Admiral Shohl has more reason than most to be... tolerant." She smiled. "Still - I wouldn't want to trouble her with the knowledge. This will just be our secret, all right?"

H'Russ nodded. "All right."

"And don't tell me you weren't tempted, too, just by the technical challenge."

"It was a tall order, that's for sure." The Caitian visibly swelled with pride, his whiskers twitching, his ears lifting. "Don't think anyone else could have done it."

"You guys really are the best," Kluthli breathed.

"Better believe it. Here we are." H'Russ indicated a door, a storage room like many others, indistinguishable from the dozens that lined the corridor. Kluthli shifted the weight of the big fabric-covered case in her right hand.

"Thanks, H'Russ. I owe you for this, big time."

"Better believe that, too." The Caitian laughed softly. "I'll leave you in private. Door's keyed to your combadge." And he patted Kluthli's hand, then stalked off down the corridor.

Kluthli took a deep breath. She opened the door, went in, slid it shut behind her.

Tayaira looked up sharply. She was sitting on the floor, huddled in one corner of the small, bare room. She said nothing as Kluthli dropped the fabric case onto the floor.

"Camping gear, basically," Kluthli said. "Bedroll, ration packs, portable sanitary unit. You'll need that. You can't go outside."

Tayaira eyed her warily. "When does it start?" she asked.

"When does what start?"

"The interrogation."

"What interrogation? We already know everything, Tayaira."

Tayaira shook her head. "Then... why? And, for that matter, how?"

"How? We had all your biometric data, courtesy of Shalo... and King Estmere has the best flight deck transporter operators in the fleet. Of course, I'll have to keep H'Russ sweet, to stop him talking...." Kluthli smiled. "That will be no problem. Not even a hardship, actually."

"That leaves the difficult question," Tayaira said. "Why?"

"You're family."

Tayaira shook her head firmly. "That means... less than nothing, these days."

"I'm not so sure," Kluthli said. "Shalo and I... tore into each other, about the new loyalties we'd chosen. Perhaps we shouldn't have.... In any case, it seemed to me that it wasn't your fault you chose badly. You didn't know, did you, what Klur's plans were? Who his backers were?"

"No," said Tayaira. "Naturally not. What would you expect, of a conspiracy among Klingons?"

"Yes," said Kluthli, "among Klingons. Now, I can't promise you that no such conspiracy could ever form among the Federation... but, since I joined Starfleet, I've seen them in action, and they do try. We mock their ideals, but they try to live up to them, and sometimes they succeed. And when they do, they make the galaxy a better place to live in. The Federation way is not the Klingon way... but I think, I honestly think, it's a better one. That I made the best choice, out of the three of us."

"And if the House of Sinoom should rise again?" Tayaira asked.

Kluthli shook her head. "I don't know. Perhaps I could take some of the lessons I've learned from the Federation, put them to use in an Orion setting, but... I don't know. In any case, how might that ever happen?"

"I can't answer that one," Tayaira said. "Maybe, if Shalo rises to higher prominence in the Empire... or if you do the same in Starfleet, even." She smiled wryly. "At least I know I will never ascend to any heights."

"You can do whatever you want," Kluthli said. She reached into her jacket, pulled out a PADD. "Here. Shalo gave me this, I'm giving it to you. The remains of Cysitra's computer records. There should be things there you can... work with."

Tayaira made no move to accept the PADD. Kluthli stooped down and put it on the deck. After a moment, Tayaira picked it up.

"And what is the price?" she asked. "For this... for my life, such as it is. A wanted war criminal...."

"Not wanted. You're dead, Tayaira. Vaporized in combat with the King Estmere - no surer way to get dead. As for a price -" She shook her head. "It's one thing I've... learned... from the Federation. A person's life is too big a thing to put a price on. It can only be a gift, from me to you."

"More Federation idealism," said Tayaira.

"You'd be dead without it, so don't mock it," said Kluthli.

Tayaira nodded, slowly. "So what is the next step?" she asked.

"You need to stay here, for a while. I don't know what the Tholians used this room for, but we don't use it for anything. But if you venture outside, you'll be spotted, and that would be... inconvenient. On our current course, we'll be passing by a trade hub at Lutanis Beta within a day or so. H'Russ and I will sneak you off the ship then. After that -" Kluthli shrugged. "It's up to you." She turned to the door, then looked back. "It's a gift, your new life. Given freely. I don't ask any price... but I suggest you live it well. Dead woman."

She opened the door, passed through, let it slide shut and lock behind her. Tayaira sat staring at the closed panel for a long time.

At last, she said, softly, "Maybe I will."

Fallout 34

The atmosphere aboard the QIb laH'e' was one of gloom and despair. Tayaira paced endlessly around the bridge, pausing once in a while to look at the two things no one else dared look at: the viewscreen, and the empty command chair.

A trap. Nothing but a trap. Artfully planned, with one end in view; to get them away from the freighter. By now, Starfleet and the Garaka had to have found it. And the QIb laH'e' was stuck, here... with only one way out, and that blocked by the three enemy ships.

Oh, they could flee at warp speed... and, as before, it would gain them nothing. The transwarp nexus was in clear space, their warp signature would stand out like a neon sign - no way to hide it, even if they did not blunder straight into an approaching Starfleet task force.

And no suggestions from the Captain, and that hurt morale worst of all. He had stormed, raging, off the bridge, once they had emerged from the gateway and seen -

Tayaira looked up at the screen. It made perfect sense in Starfleet terms, she thought. Machines, objects, were cheap, too cheap to be reckoned in the Federation's post-industrial economy. So destroying the transwarp gates was a perfectly logical step to take. She could see, in one corner of the viewer, the regular gleam as one broken section rotated, slowly, the light of the nearest star glinting off it as it turned.

Within hours, she thought, she herself would be wreckage revolving lifelessly in space. Or, perhaps, consigned to some Federation prison camp, to emerge in a few decades as some "rehabilitated" shadow of her former self. No other alternative, no way out. She knew it. So did everyone on the ship. The sense of defeat was overwhelming, palpable.

She resumed her pacing, stopped at her tactical console. It mocks me, she thought. Status displays still showed for the gateway network, registering all the gates at zero power. Well, of course they are, if they are destroyed, she thought.

It took another circuit of the bridge before she stopped, again, at the console, and frowned.

The twelve gates all registered the same. But eleven of them were different, surely? They were destroyed, their control circuits inoperable... how could they transmit a status code, even? All right, perhaps the control circuits remained sufficiently intact, even though the gates themselves were destroyed... but for all of them? Not one of the control computers was sufficiently badly damaged that it did not register?

She shook her head. Federation deception, perhaps? Had they rigged the gateways to register as intact, even after their destruction? It seemed likely -

Tayaira caught her breath. Or the Feds might have tried some other sort of deception -

She strode to the main science console. "Scan," she ordered.

The science officer was some junior whose name she didn't know. He stared up at her with sullen eyes. "What's the use?" he said.

"I gave you an order!" Tayaira snarled. "I want scans of that debris!"

For a moment, she thought he would still disobey; something in her face, though, must have convinced him that she would kill him if he did. He turned to the console, slow and resentful. "Setting up scan. What are we looking for?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn't need you. Commence full sensor sweep. Slow and careful."

"Working." She watched over his shoulder, reading the displays. "Fragments. Metals, high durability alloys... ceramic fragments, too, looks like ablative armour from a warship hull...."

Tayaira's eyes narrowed. "Where are the high-density exotics?"

"Sir?"

"From the warp coils of the gateways! There should be hundreds of tonnes of exotic alloys out there!"

The science officer adjusted something on the console. "There are," he said. "I'm reading... twelve large concentrations. It's heavy material, it can't have drifted far from the sites of the destroyed gateways...."

Tayaira swore sulphurously. "Destroyed, hell!" She stabbed her finger down on the displays. "Everything here is consistent with destroyed ships -"

"Yes," said the science officer, "they fought off our backup here, destroyed them... blew the gates, and came after us. We know that."

"They faked us out once. Why couldn't they do it again? Scan for holo-emitter signatures!"

"You think -"

"The gates register as functional on the command network. Our eyes tell us they're gone. One of the two has to be wrong. Why not our eyes?"

The science officer's eyes came alive with sudden hope. "On it," he said.

"Keep at it. I'm going to get the captain," said Tayaira grimly.

She raced off the bridge, down the corridors, into the labyrinth that was the Kar'fi carrier. She passed a number of Klingons, some of them apparently wandering, aimless, under the influence of drink or worse... that was a bad sign. But there was no time now to discipline them. She reached the captain's quarters, hammered on the door.

There was nothing but an incoherent sound from the other side. Tayaira swore again, opened the emergency panel by the side of the door, and cranked the manual override. A few furious turns of the wheel, and the door was open wide enough for her to edge through.

Klur was sitting on his bed, his face lit only by the flame from his souvenir trinket. He turned towards her and spoke, blearily, "'s you."

Drunk, again. Tayaira looked about. There was a bottle, somewhere - round red pills, she had seen him use it before -

"All gone," Klur mumbled. "Did everything they said to, an' it didn' work. Did that T'Jeg his favour -" he hissed the word. "Talakh, Kysang, they had to die clean. No questions. Bad for me too, he said, if there were questions. An' the others, they made sense. Step it up, the war, I mean. Proper victories, real victories, do enough damage to the Feds, Feds 'll run. Made sense. Only, didn' work. We ran, instead. That's wrong. Doesn' that seem wrong to you?"

A bottle of round red pills. Tayaira's hand closed over it gratefully. She shook out two of them, held them out to Klur. "Take these, sir."

"Don' wanna," Klur slurred.

"Sir. Take them."

Klur struck out, a petulant, childish gesture, knocking the pills out of Tayaira's hand. She took a deep breath. Then she slapped Klur across the face, as hard as she could.

The captain subsided onto the bed, his face a mask of astonishment and affront.

"Sir." Tayaira put as much command as she could into her voice. "I serve the captain, but I speak for the crew, and your crew needs you now." She shook another two pills out of the bottle. "Take them."

Staring at her as if hypnotized, Klur reached up, took the pills from her hand, and swallowed them. Tayaira kept her eyes on him, watched him wince as the alcohol antagonist began to work, as his eyes and his expression began to clear.

"Waste of good bloodwine," Klur said in a rasping voice.

"The Feds faked the destruction of the gateways," Tayaira said.

"What?"

"The only real wreckage is from the relief force. I have science, now, trying to pinpoint the holo-emitters -"

Klur sprang up. "Are you sure about this?"

"I -" Tayaira swallowed hard. "I believe so, sir."

"If you're wrong," Klur said, "I will kill you three times over before I die."

"If I'm wrong, sir," said Tayaira, "I'll welcome that."

Klur strode to the door, reactivated the mechanism, and was through it at a run. Tayaira followed.

On the bridge, the science officer was alternately whooping with laughter and working feverishly at his console. "I have them, sir!" he shouted as Klur charged towards him. "I have them! She was right!"

"Show me," Klur demanded.

"Emitter signatures - here, here, here -" the science officer pointed. "Every gateway has them! I've been working it out, we can channel a tetryon pulse through the main deflector and burn them out with a single energy spike -"

"Do it," Klur said.

He stalked to his command chair. Tayaira watched as the science officer's hands flew over his console, programming the sequences. "Ready, sir!" he shouted. "Energizing now!"

A deep muttering grumble came from power sources in the bowels of the QIb laH'e', and the screen cleared. Like magic, Tayaira thought. The drifting debris faded from sight, the gateways reappeared, intact, pristine.

"It's like coming back to life," she whispered, inaudible in all the joyful shouting on the bridge.

"We're not home yet," said Klur. "Bring the ship to alert status! And power up the homeward gateway!"

Tayaira turned to her console, to enter the commands, and stopped. The status display still showed the power levels for all twelve gates. Eleven were powered down, cold, inert.

One was at maximum power already. Ready for transit.

Fallout 32

"Gateway is powering up, sir," Tayaira reported.

Klur stood, a faint smile appearing on his face. He had been in a better mood, Tayaira thought, ever since the signal had come in... the signal, at last, from their unknown backers. Still unknown to her, since the message had been in some private code... but Klur was confident, almost happy, and the mood aboard the ship was lighter because of that. Now, he strode across the bridge to her tactical station, observed the readings on her screen, and nodded approval.

"They will be here soon," he said. "We will hold station here, though, for the present."

"Do you anticipate any... difficulties, sir?" Tayaira asked.

"Difficulties? No. But it may be as well to remind our allies of... certain realities in our relationship."

He could only mean the freighter. Tayaira felt a chill as she considered the freighter. It lay there, silent in space, some four kilometers away.... "Do we continue preparations for loading, sir?"

"For the present. I will decide what is to be done, once our allies and I have conferred." He turned and stalked back to his command chair. "Visual on the gateway."

At this distance, the transwarp gate appeared only as a tiny hexagonal shape; Tayaira moved to step up magnification on the viewer, and then stopped as her readings changed. "Transit complete." The little hexagon on the screen flashed bright for an instant, then dimmed. "Reading... three ships."

"Three?" Klur frowned. "They promised me five.... Well, perhaps they encountered difficulties. Put them on my tactical display. Stand by hailing frequencies."

The view of the gateway vanished, to be replaced by the crisp red schematics of the tactical display. Tayaira watched as the three dots representing the ships separated themselves from the marker for the gateway. For a moment, they were simply dots, and then Tayaira's heart sank as the computer, imperturbably, made its identifications and put them on the screen.

IKS Garaka. USS King Estmere. USS Virtue.

Klur's oath echoed across the bridge. "Those fools!"

"Our allies encountered... more difficulties than they could cope with, then," Tayaira said, with a mouth suddenly dry.

"Fools," Klur spat, again.

"Sir, what are we going to do?"

Outnumbered, three to one, she thought. They could flee at warp speed... and those ships would follow, would track their warp signature to the ends of the universe... and others would come, too, Starfleet forces had to be converging on all the gateways. There was no chance, no hope -

"Wait," said Klur, softly. "Wait...."

His eyes were intent on the screen. She followed his gaze, trying to see what he saw.

"The Orion's ship is at full impulse," Klur said. "Starfleet is following at lesser speed.... There will be a gap. In... perhaps two minutes... perhaps a little more.... Sound red alert! Bring the ship to full impulse, course..." he paused, calculating "... three two seven mark three seven three. Execute!"

"What of the freighter, sir?" Tayaira asked, even as she slammed the commands into her console.

"Forget the freighter! First, we must survive! Send the code to activate the gateway!"

The QIb laH'e' surged forwards, the gonging sound from its drive reaching a deafening pitch. Tayaira saw, now, what Klur hoped to do. Their oblique course would carry them in a curve, around the approaching Garaka, and through the space between her and the Starfleet ships. There was room - just room - for them to pass outside the weapons ranges of both KDF and Starfleet. And if the Starfleet ships were too slow - if they failed to realise the full implications of Klur's maneuver - they could reach the gateway.

She checked the command codes. "Gateway powering. Backup capacitance is not engaged, sir - if we can reach the gate, there will be some time before our pursuers can power it up again."

Klur nodded. "Once we are through, send the command codes for cold shutdown. The Virtue has codes to override that, too, of course - but it will buy us more time." His tone of voice grew reflective. "Time we shall use to reach the gateway to the neutral zone... and that I shall use to compose a message for our allies." He snarled, a deep animal noise in his throat. "In payment for their incompetence, I shall demand nothing less than a seat on the High Council myself!"

Tayaira's eyes widened. "Can they grant that?"

"I think so." Klur laughed. "If our relief force has failed to arrive... then there should be a vacancy to fill!"

More icons appeared on the tactical display. "The enemy carriers have launched fighters," Tayaira said.

"That extends their radius of action," Klur said thoughtfully. "We are likely to come under fire from the fighters, even if we are out of range of the carriers themselves. Ignore it. Our shields can absorb a few hits from fighter weapons." He seemed to be counting down, inside his head. "Time to come about. One eight one mark one four. And give me everything the impulse drive has."

"Garaka is coming about!"

"Yes. She has seen her folly - but too late, my impatient Orion friend, too late." Klur's face was exultant. The QIb laH'e' swung around, her engines throbbing louder still.

An alarm sounded. "Incoming fire," Tayaira said. "Plasma weapons - King Estmere's Scorpion fighters. At extreme range... shields holding."

"Incoming hail on Starfleet frequency," the comms officer reported.

"Ignore it," said Klur. "We have heard all they have to say."

"Picking up antiproton fire from the Garaka's S'kuls," said Tayaira. "Not enough to worry about... shields at ninety-six per cent."

"At full impulse, we will lose them soon enough," said Klur.

"What concerns me," said Tayaira, "is what awaits us on the other side of the gate."

Klur shook his head. "They have committed their full force," he said. "Even at the fastest possible warp speed, no other Starfleet ships could have reached the transwarp nexus yet."

Unless they got lucky, and had ships close by already, Tayaira thought, but she said nothing. Now was not the time to contradict the captain - if there ever was a time for that.

The display changed yet again. "Virtue is turning."

"So I see. Too late." Klur's lips twitched. "I had not expected even that much good sense from the Virtue's commander... that one is unhinged. Time to gateway?"

"Three minutes at current speed and vector. Sir, the Virtue might just make it to weapons range -"

"Stand by to reinforce rear shields if necessary. We do not fight. We go."

"Yes, sir." Tayaira allowed herself to feel a fleeting moment of hope. Was it just possible that they might survive this?

The impacts on the shields stopped; they had outdistanced the fighters. The enemy carriers were turning, but too slowly, now... the more agile Virtue remained the only threat -

"Virtue has stopped! No impulse signature. Coasting on inertia only."

"Battle damage," Klur said. "That ship's emissions profile showed some odd spikes, consistent with damage to her engines... the stress must have overloaded them once again." He smiled in satisfaction. "We are certainly safe now."

"Should we stop and destroy her, sir?"

"Tempting," Klur said; then he shook his head. "Tempting, but no, not now. No delays, take no chances. We cannot risk combat with both those carriers at once. If they come up on us while we are finishing the Virtue - No. Proceed to the gate."

"Yes, sir." The gate, which had been a tiny shape on the screen, now filled it, huge and almost reassuring. "Stepping down from full impulse. Gateway is fully powered and ready for transit. Synchronizing driver coils."

They were there. And the Starfleet ships were too far distant to stop them. They had made it, Tayaira thought. She reached for her console, keyed in the command sequence, engaged it in the instant Klur yelled, "Go!"

Fallout 29

Shalo
The interior of the King Estmere is... confusing. On the one hand, it is drab and utilitarian for the most part; on the other, the internal arrangements and the surprising shifts in the artificial gravity make for an unsettling experience.

Kluthli's quarters are spacious, as is the Federation way. My cousin gives me a minimal nod of acknowledgement as I enter.

"We should not be enemies," I say to her.

"But we are," she replies.

I sigh. "It is... a part of the times we live in, I fear. We are constrained by forces greater than ourselves, and we must make whatever accommodation we can. We have both done... what seems best, to survive."

Another minimal nod, grudging, but there. "I chose not to work with the Klingons."

"That was your choice. Mine, as you see, was otherwise. But you are not Federation, and I am not Klingon. At heart, I am still of the House of Sinoom. And I think you would not feel as you do towards me, if you were not also that. At heart."

"I remember the House of Sinoom," Kluthli says. "I miss it. But I've built a life for myself, now, within Starfleet and the Federation. If everything went back - the way it was - I'm not so sure I would go back."

"Nothing will ever be as it was," I say. "This is true for all life. Should our House undergo a resurgence, I am sure you would be valued, within it. As I would be." I allow myself a wry smile. "I would suggest that I am better placed than you to create such a resurgence."

She shakes her head. "Our House as an ally of the Klingons? It would never be believed, by those who knew us."

"But those who knew us grow scarcer as the years pass. We have lost one, just recently, of course. Cysitra Cira'tenis." I hold up the datapad in my hand. "This contains what remnants I was able to obtain of her communications codes and data stores. I share it with you, freely."

"Why?" she asks, bluntly.

"In part, as a peace offering between us. And, in part, for the most urgent practical reasons. Tayaira."

Kluthli shakes her head. She crosses the room, sits down, indicates another chair to me. I sit. "Tayaira is most definitely our enemy," she says. "And there is nothing to be done about that, now."

"I disagree. Klur is our enemy... and his unknown supporters... but his crew?"

"The Federation's position is that unlawful orders cannot be accepted - and that the crew, therefore, bear criminal responsibility for accepting them. Of course, it could be argued that they were compelled, under threat of death - the matter has been tested in the Federation's courts, I think, with conflicting outcomes. But, to bring our cousin to trial, we would first have to capture her, and I doubt whether that will be possible."

"In any event," I say, "we might at least talk to her."

Kluthli smiles and shakes her head. "And how are we to manage that?"

"With the resonant pulses used for communications through these gateways," I say. "If we are careful - and if we have a thorough understanding of the internal comms network of a Kar'fi carrier - I believe we could generate a resonant pulse that would appear as if it came from within the intercom system."

Kluthli's eyes widen. "It's possible," she says. "And then -?"

"Then we send one of Cysitra's recognition codes," I say, "and wait, and hope."

"You would have to know that intercom network very well," Kluthli says.

"I believe I do. The technology in these carriers is... interesting. I have made a study of it."

"Let's see some technical specs, then," says Kluthli. "This is going to be a challenge...."

---

We work together for close on two hours, addressing ourselves to the problem at hand, absorbed in it, our differences set aside. My cousin has a quick mind and a good understanding of the principles involved; I have the specific technical knowledge to make this work. It feels... good, to work with her. It is almost a comfort.

"Well," Kluthli says, at the end, "this is as good as it's going to get. Let's try it."

I nod. There are many things - very many things - that might still go wrong, but this is our best chance. I upload the code sequence from my datapad. With luck, it will appear only as a random burst of noise, a transient fault on the system, to any eyes but Tayaira's.

"So," says Kluthli, "nothing to do but wait. If it gets through... if she sees and understands it... if she chooses to respond...." She shrugs. "An awful lot of ifs. How long do we give her?"

"How long do we have? Until the situation changes, I suppose... until Klur moves, or your admiral completes her own task, or some other force approaches."

"Starfleet's task forces will have these gateways bottled up within forty-eight hours," Kluthli says. "The ones in Romulan space will require the cooperation of Republic forces - but they'll get it."

"I doubt we will have to wait that long."

"I don't know how long Admiral Shohl is going to take on her search, either." Kluthli stares at me, a hard, direct look. "If there's anything out there, the Admiral will find it. She's... very determined."

"Yes," I say, "she strikes me as the type." I look at Kluthli's data console, a spiky shape with a holographic screen, very Tholian in its design.

And I cannot quite keep myself from jumping when the visual display goes live.

Tayaira looks at us out of the viewer. "Shalo. And Kluthli. Quite a reunion."

"You sound surprisingly unconcerned," I say.

"It comes as something of a relief," Tayaira says, dryly. "The first thing I thought was that Cysitra Cira'tenis was haunting me, via the subsidiary plasma manifold on deck seven. Neat job of infiltration, I congratulate you. That isn't a KDF uniform," she adds, looking at Kluthli.

"We're aboard the King Estmere," Kluthli says. "I'm a science officer there. Tayaira -"

"Say what you have to," Tayaira says.

"If Klur were to be handed over," I say, "either to the Federation or to me, as J'mpok's emissary, there could be forgiveness for his crew, even at this stage. You are the first officer, you serve the captain but you speak for the crew. What would the crew say?"

Tayaira shakes her head. "Captain Klur remains confident," she says. "Even now. His morale is high, and you must know how closely a Klingon crew follows its captain's lead."

"Then he must expect support from elsewhere."

"Yes." Tayaira pulls a face. "I could not tell you, even if I wished. He sent an encrypted data transmission a short while ago, on subspace frequencies... that you can find out for yourself, if you have Cysitra's records."

"Then he must be unconcerned with being discovered."

"Oh, he realizes Federation forces are converging on him. I think he expects his way home to be cleared for him." Another grimace. "If you stand in that path... it might not be the wisest place to be."

"And Klur has other resources," I say. "We know about the freighter." A flash of - something - in Tayaira's face. "We do not know everything about the freighter."

"I don't know everything about the freighter," says Tayaira. "The captain attended to the details of the... cargo transfer... last time, and he took only Talakh with him, and Talakh is dead, now." She adds, with some reluctance, "There seems to be some sort of delay, with regard to the freighter. The captain is taking things very slowly and carefully, with many precautions."

Klur is loading tricobalt munitions. He does not need those, if he only plans to return to Klingon space - a fallback plan, then? To carry out another atrocity, as Grau suspects? "If he tries to use the tricobalt, will you let him?"

Tayaira bites her lower lip. "I don't know -"

"You know how he would use them."

Her face is anguished. "The operations officer - the one who activated the bombs at Bercera - she killed herself, afterwards. It was a terrible thing. But he is the captain -"

"He doesn't have to be," says Kluthli. "Klingon rules -"

"You can challenge him," I say.

"Challenge him, take his command, and survive," Kluthli says. "It could be the only way to survive."

And we both know, we need her to survive. There are so few left of the House of Sinoom.

"He is still the captain," says Tayaira. "No. I owe him my loyalty." Her expression turns firm. "Do not attempt this again." And the screen goes blank.

There is a short, strained silence. Then I say, "Well. It is as I said to J'mpok: loyalty which cannot withstand adversity is not loyalty."

"We're her adversity," Kluthli says.

She is right. I find I cannot meet her eyes.

Fallout 27

"Sensor contact!"

Klur's head snapped round. He glared at the science officer. "Report!"

"One - no, two - large vessels," the officer answered. "Details - Sir, there is much interference, I am attempting to resolve it -"

Klur gave an exasperated sigh. "No need," he said. "We know what they must be, the details are unnecessary. Damn that Jikkur to the deepest pits of Gre'thor!" He turned to Tayaira. "What is the status on the gateway?"

"Still in hot standby, sir," Tayaira replied.

"Then we can wait no longer for our allies' signals," said Klur. "We must go, and go now. Activate."

"Yes, sir." Tayaira's hand swept across her console. "Activating... confirmation codes received. Gateway will be live in three minutes."

"Let us hope we have three minutes," Klur muttered.

"I have identifications, sir," the science officer said. "Two ships - one Starfleet, one of our own. Both inbound at high impulse speeds."

"How soon?" Klur demanded.

"In weapons range in no more than five minutes, sir."

"Get us in close to the gateway," Klur ordered. "Two minutes. Close, but it should suffice."

The dull gonging sound of the QIb laH'e''s engines grew louder as the ship surged forwards. Klur paced impatiently up and down the bridge, snarling under his breath. Tayaira watched the console displays, eyes fixed on the energy readings.

"I have signals!" shouted the comms officer. "From both vessels!"

Klur stopped pacing, looked up, laughed. "Let us hear them both!" he ordered. "On screen."

Two faces appeared on the main viewer; one blue, one green, both coldly angry.

"IKS QIb laH'e'," the green one said, "I am Lieutenant General Shalo, personal emissary of Chancellor J'mpok, and I order you now to surrender and submit to questioning."

Tayaira looked up from her console. "Shalo?"

"Captain Klur," said the blue face, "this is Vice Admiral Shohl of the USS King Estmere. You are wanted for war crimes. Surrender now or be destroyed."

"Shalo?" Tayaira repeated, blankly.

Klur laughed uproariously. "Perhaps you two should fight it out between yourselves!" he said. "Let combat decide whether I face living death in a Federation penal colony, or dishonour, discommendation and Rura Penthe from our noble Chancellor! Regrettably, I must decline both your kind invitations. My vessel and I have a pressing engagement elsewhere. Screen off!"

"Shalo," Tayaira whispered.

Klur whirled round to face her. "What is wrong with you?" he demanded.

Tayaira swallowed. "Nothing, sir," she said. "Only - the KDF commander - she is of the House of Sinoom -"

"Have your family reunions on your own time! What is our status?"

"Gateway power building up smoothly. On schedule - ship is on course for intersection."

"Hostiles launching fighters, sir," the tac officer called out.

"Both of them?" Klur demanded.

"The KDF ship is a Kar'fi like ourselves. The Starfleet vessel reads as a modified Tholian Recluse. KDF have deployed standard S'kuls, Starfleet... Romulan Scorpions with a high emissions profile."

"Should we launch our own fighters, sir?" Tayaira asked.

"No," said Klur. "We would not win a fight, here and now... and this is not our day to die."

"Starfleet ship is firing, sir!" the tac officer reported.

"They cannot possibly be in effective range," Klur growled.

"No, sir. I think they may be hoping for a lucky hit on the gateway. High energy disruptor fire and plasma torpedoes."

Klur laughed. "There is too much debris in this system for that stratagem to be effective. Let them burn up as much space dust as they please, they will not touch us."

"Six kilometers to gateway," said Tayaira. "Power levels still building to threshold."

The gateway filled the main viewscreen, now. The Kar'fi carrier was huge, but it was dwarfed by the hollow hexagonal frame of the transwarp gate. To one side, green light flickered in a misty auroral display: the Starfleet ship's disruptors, diffusing to uselessness in the micrometeorite dust that flooded through Massidia Alpha.

"Power levels increasing," said Tayaira. "Three kilometers to gateway. Sir, those ships are closing rapidly -"

"Not rapidly enough." Klur's face was exultant.

"Gateway is ready. Intersecting transwarp field in... twenty seconds." Each one passed like a century before Tayaira's agonized eyes.

"In field. Synchronizing drive relays."

"Go!"

The ship lurched as the transwarp field took hold. Tayaira's stomach flipped in that vertiginous instant when the entire ship passed through the no-place that was the subspace warp, translocating almost instantly across parsecs of space.

On the viewer, the stars changed.

The QIb laH'e' now hung in a black and starry void, empty space, the nearest star some twenty light years distant. After the chaos of Massidia Alpha, it was almost a relief, Tayaira found, to see clear space on her console displays.

Clear, except for a dozen massive hexagonal bodies floating nearby. The other transwarp gates.

"Yes," Klur hissed. "Nearly there. Nearly home.... Send activation codes to all the transwarp gates. Even if those fools manage to break security on that gateway and follow us here - and that will take them many hours, if they can do it at all - they will not know which of the others we have used. Set course for the homeward gateway!"

The carrier swung around, aiming at the mouth of another gateway. Tayaira checked her readouts, and frowned. "Something is amiss," she said.

Klur was at her side in two swift strides. "Tell me."

"Power levels on the gateways are - higher than they should be, if the network has been on cold standby." Tayaira indicated the numbers on her display.

Klur grimaced. "It might mean nothing - except that the Ferengi broke his word, that he let other customers make illicit transits, instead of holding everything in shutdown while we completed our tasks. In which case... I will hang his ears in my trophy room in due course. No need for concern."

"Nonetheless, sir," said Tayaira, "I would recommend engaging the backup capacitance system, in case we need to beat a swift retreat."

Klur nodded. "A worthwhile precaution. Send the command codes to the gateways."

As she tapped in the commands, Tayaira asked, "Sir, since you have refused the order of the Chancellor's representative... what is our status now?"

"Unchanged," said Klur. "The Chancellor's representative - if that Orion truly was his representative - is not the Chancellor. And the Chancellor himself will not be displeased when we make our report to him. It is simply a matter of arranging sufficient backing when we present that report." He laughed. "Despite our hurried exit, I feel sure our backers will be ready and waiting when we return to Klingon space."

"Yes, sir." Tayaira wished, fervently, that she could share the captain's confidence. "That return will not be long delayed now, sir. Power levels already building to threshold in the outbound gateway."

"Good," said Klur, "good. Prepare for maximum warp speed once we emerge from the gateway. It is only a short way, after that, back to Imperial territory... but I would not want anything to slow us down, not at that last stage."

The gateway expanded in the viewer as the QIb laH'e' closed on it. Tayaira could see the glow from its field generators, steadily brightening.

"Power levels at threshold. Intersecting transwarp field in thirty seconds."

Klur settled himself in his command chair. "It will be good to be home," he said. Tayaira made no reply, simply watched the gateway as it drifted ever closer.

"In field," she reported. "Synchronizing drive relays."

"Engage."

Again, that moment of disorientation as the ship jumped across the light years; again, a new starscape on the viewer when Tayaira's eyes settled -

And something else. "Sensor contact!"

"What is it?" Klur demanded.

"Attempting to get a reading now -" Tayaira frowned. "Sir, there is a hail coming in on standard frequency."

"Perhaps our backers have come to welcome us," said Klur. "On screen."

The viewer flickered, and a face appeared: a deathly pale face, sharp-featured to the point of gauntness, with the dead black plastic and flashing red light of a Borg implant covering one eye. The thin lips moved in a manic smile.

"Captain Klur? Veronika Grau, call me Ronnie, everyone does... no, hang on a minute, you get to call me Vice Admiral Grau. Oh, yeah. Surrender, and all that."

Fallout 17

There was one waiting by the door as Tayaira charged out - human, from the look of him. He was aiming a plasma pistol at the doorway, but the concentrated burst of pheromones caught him before he could fire, and he staggered, his eyes suddenly swimming with tears. He had no time to recover before Tayaira drove her dagger through his throat.

She never broke stride, running for cover as a plasma bolt hissed past her from somewhere nearby. She ducked behind a big metal thing, some piece of spaceport machinery, sheathed her blade, and pulled out her tricorder. Somehow, she had to take stock of the situation -

Footsteps nearby: she whirled and brought up her disruptor, then relaxed. Ch'gama, and the big Nausicaan marine, Hrchie. The Klingon was spattered with blood of several different colours; some of it, Tayaira realized with dismay, was his own. But he grinned at her as he crouched down beside her.

"What happened?" she asked.

"We got separated," Ch'gama said. "They tried to bottle us up in the ship." His finger stabbed at a blunt concrete-and-metal turret, one of several such that ringed the landing pad. "Tractor and damping field emitters, with those running, the Chariot's going nowhere. So we broke out before they could bring can openers." He shrugged, and winced. "Didn't quite go to plan. They got Durrog, and the rest of us scattered in the crossfire. What about you?"

"I got the Captain's message off," Tayaira said. "Confirmation signal came back. I suppose that's all that matters, but personally I'd like to live to see what happens next."

"What about the alien witch?"

"Oh," said Tayaira, "I paid her off. In full." Something was moving, off to one side. She checked her tricorder. Human life signs. She sighted her disruptor, fired, was rewarded with a yell of pain. "They're trying to flank us."

"Not very well," said Ch'gama.

"Not Starfleet," Hrchie rumbled. "Mercenary security."

"Not much honour in dying at those hands," said Tayaira, "so let's not. How do we take these dampers out?"

"They're armoured." Ch'gama spat. "Durrog was trying when they roasted him. But I don't think hand weapons'll do the job. Sir, these goons will have called for reinforcements -"

"I see R'rorro," Hrchie interrupted. Tayaira peered around the corner of their shelter.

The Ferasan warrior, R'rorro, was moving on the other side of the pad, with the speed and grace of his species. Bolts of green light flamed from his twin disruptor pistols. He seemed to catch sight of them, changed direction, ran straight across the landing pad. As he came to the wing of the shuttle, he gathered himself and leapt, clearing the obstacle in a single graceful bound. It was a breathtaking jump, a heroic jump -

Three plasma beams picked him off in mid-leap, and he crashed to the ground in a motionless smouldering heap.

Tayaira swore. She thought furiously. "Cover me," she said, and ran for the human she'd killed. Plasma beams hissed across the air, none coming near her. She snatched up the dead man's handgun, turned, and sprinted back to cover.

"You wanted a souvenir, sir?" said Ch'gama with a grin.

"Not quite. Those emitter turrets must have a power supply, yes? My guess is, they're tied in to the city power grid. My further guess is, that's a commercial grade EPS network, and just as clapped out as the rest of this place." She held up the captured weapon. "So, let's see what happens when we put a plasma weapon into the grid, set on overload."

Ch'gama's grin widened. "Oh, that's beautiful, sir. No wonder they pay you the big money."

They don't pay me enough for this, Tayaira thought, as she scanned the landing pad quickly. Those dome buildings were constructed to a standard pattern -

She saw the EPS connection point, ran for it, opened the access panel. Behind her, more gunshots crackled. The EPS channel buzzed angrily as she forced the plasma pistol into the waveguide. She set the gun for a force chamber explosion, turned, and sprinted back once more to the shelter of the machine.

"Did it -" Ch'gama started to ask.

Behind her, the EPS channel erupted. The hardened electroplasma system of a starship could pass a power surge along it, dissipating it harmlessly save for the occasional flash-bang of a transient overload. This commercial-grade system didn't have that facility. The explosion turned the EPS hookup into a column of sparks sixty metres high, and all around the spaceport, more columns like it burst up, as the power surge blasted through the network.

Tayaira barely needed a glance at her tricorder. "Power's down! Move!"

Suddenly, everyone was running towards the shuttle, friend and foe alike. Tayaira snapped off shots from her disruptor at any figure in an unfamiliar uniform, and tried not to worry about the returning plasma fire that scorched the air around her. She was first to reach the Chariot, slammed her palm down on the biometric lock, turned to shoot an approaching security goon. Ch'gama and Hrchie piled past her into the airlock; then there was a mad scrimmage, a sudden crush of bodies in which knives flashed and guns blazed. Somehow, she fought her way in, and hit the button to close the door. Someone reached through, trying to block the door with his arm; Tayaira burned the limb off with her disruptor before it could trip the door's safeties.

She dashed for the cockpit, hurled herself into the pilot's seat, ignoring the confused melee behind her. "Computer! Combat emergency. Skip all preflight checks and lift!"

It seemed to take an age, though it could only have been seconds, before the guttural voice of the machine said, "Confirmed," and the controls came alive under her hands. There was a sudden thump on the viewport before her. One of the security guards, an Andorian, had leapt onto the shuttle's nose and was aiming a plasma pistol at the port. Tayaira hit the thrusters, and the shuttle leaped up and forwards. The Andorian staggered, lost his pistol, and yet somehow retained a grip on the shuttle itself -

Behind her, there were sounds. Tayaira looked around. In the confusion at the airlock, a human security guard had made it on board. He was now alone, in a confined face, surrounded by angry KDF troops. It seemed to have dawned on him that that was a bad place to be.

She checked the shuttle's scanners. Beneath her, the port registered only small, scattered energy readings - the power grid failure was more extensive than she'd thought. There were two other flying craft on sensors nearby, though, and she had to assume they were hostile. Behind her, the human had started screaming.

"We don't have time to play! Put him in the transporter and get rid of him!"

"Send him where?" one of the Klingons asked.

"Straight to Gre'thor - random coordinates, wide dispersion!" The human, who had been sobbing with relief, started to scream again. The whine and hum of the transporter cut him off for good.

"Someone get on the disruptors, or I swear you'll envy him!" The Andorian was still banging on the viewport with his fists. The first sensor contact was close, too close. She had a read on it, it was an antiquated Federation-type shuttle, but still dangerous -

It was within a few hundred metres when the Chariot's disruptor array came live. The green beam burned through the shuttle's feeble shields inside a second, and tore into the nose of the craft, scattering white-hot fragments across the sky. The shuttle slewed and plummeted in a death-dive towards the ground.

The second ship came in fast, and firing phasers. The Chariot rocked and its shields sparkled, but they held. Klur had spent the time and money to upgrade the warp core, Tayaira noted; she had plenty of power for weapons and shields, at least. The enemy ship streaked past, leaving the Chariot rocking in the turbulent air. Amazingly, the Andorian was still hanging on.

"Looks like a Bajoran war surplus fighter," Ch'gama remarked.

"Fast but flimsy," Tayaira said. "Wait till he comes round for another pass... then double-shot the photon launcher."

Ch'gama nodded. The fighter ship was swinging around, lines of phaser light reaching out from its hardpoints. The Chariot's shields flared. Ch'gama waited a second, while Tayaira's heart stood still, then fired the torpedoes.

The enemy pilot was good; he managed to dodge one of them. The second one sprayed him across the sky.

Tayaira cut in the impulse drive, turned the Chariot's nose spacewards. The Andorian was flattened against the viewport.

"How's he still hanging on?" Ch'gama asked.

"Must have polyalloy armour under those coveralls, and a magnetic link on his boots or his belt," Tayaira said. She ran her fingers through her hair. "Great, so now we have a figurehead. All right, we know how to get out of here. Cloak, random-walk to the system's edge, then follow our prearranged flight path to the rendezvous point." And hope the Captain didn't get tired of waiting, she didn't add aloud. "How badly did we get hit? I know we lost Durrog and R'rorro...."

"N'Liss, too," said Ch'gama sourly.

"Someone else missing too," said Tayaira, craning her neck around to get a good look at her crew. "Where's Lieutenant Jikkur?"

Fallout 15

The atmosphere aboard the DujHod Chariot was tense, and more than a little foul. Tayaira carefully refrained from wrinkling her nose. If only Klingons and Nausicaans - especially Nausicaans - could be persuaded to bathe more regularly....

"Still nothing," reported Warrior Ch'gama from the comms station. Tayaira sighed, and stared out of the viewport, towards the blue-grey bulk of the planet Mageptis. They had been in orbit, now, for some twenty hours... in transit from the QIb laH'e''s hiding place for another thirty... and not one of the Klingons had thought to wash in all that time.

"I think we must give up on this one, too," she said. She consulted her datapad. "Try Factor Cysitra Cira'tenis, at the Galpor spaceport. Transferring codes to your console now." She touched the pad, made the necessary connections. The list of former contacts of the House of Sinoom was looking perilously thin, now.

"Transmitting comms request," said Ch'gama. Beside him, the newly-minted Lieutenant Jikkur sat silent in his Nausicaan bladed armour, his red eyes watchful. Tayaira had thought long and hard about including him on this mission, had decided in the end that she could watch him aboard the Chariot just as effectively as Klur could aboard the ship... and that, if he proved disloyal, he could do less damage here than back on the QIb laH'e'.

"Request sent, response pending -" Ch'gama's head jerked up. "I have something!"

"On screen."

The face that appeared on the Chariot's viewscreen was green and hairless, with wide shimmering eyes and a headcrest that unfolded as Tayaira looked, and flushed with a multitude of colours. She had never known what species Cysitra was, had never thought to ask. "Tayaira!" the factor said in a fluting voice. "Well, this is a pleasure unlooked for."

"It has been too long since I last visited this world," said Tayaira. "Is all well with you?"

"My life is full of joys and travails, as is every life," said Cysitra. "How may I oblige you, lady of the House of Sinoom?"

"For a start, we require landing clearance. Traffic control around Mageptis has grown strict."

"A most regrettable consequence of the war. You command, I see, a Klingon Chariot? I am intrigued. They are normally allocated to respected commanders...."

"I obtained it from a respected commander. You should not enquire too closely into the circumstances."

"Nonetheless, we are technically in Federation territory and you are technically an enemy vessel. But arrangements may be made. Your other needs, lady?"

"I have an encrypted isolinear chip whose contents need secure transmission on a particular subspace frequency."

"May one speculate as to the contents?"

"One may. I often do myself."

"I see." Cysitra's headcrest faded to pastel colours. "I deeply regret, of course, that the credit of the House of Sinoom is no longer what it was. In these trying times of ours -"

"It is natural that you should require payment in hard cash, in advance." Tayaira reached into her belt pouch, brought out a sparkling red crystal, held it up to the screen. "Kinarian flame jewels. Non-replicateable, and difficult to obtain in the Federation, due to the war. I have... a sufficiency." A very small, hard-won, personal reserve... she only hoped it would be enough.

"Such beauty," Cysitra sighed. "Certainly, also, payment hard enough to meet the most stringent requirements."

"Better payment than you might expect from the Federation," Tayaira said. "They pay only in promises and goodwill."

"How true. Let me make appropriate arrangements." Cysitra looked to one side, at something out of Tayaira's field of vision. "One moment. There. I am transmitting clearances now for your approach to a private landing pad. You will encounter no difficulties. Once there, we will arrange for the fulfillment of your other requirements, lady. Clearances and coordinates are being transmitted on our data channel even as we speak."

Tayaira looked down at her command console. "Confirmed. We will speak, then, in person, within the hour."

"My joy at that will know no bounds. Until that time, then." The screen went dark.

"That went well," said Ch'gama.

"You think so?" said Tayaira. "Let us make some arrangements, for contingencies that may arise."

The shuttlecraft dropped through the murky air of Mageptis.

---

Cysitra's landing pad was on the fringes of the Galpor spaceport, next to a pressurized dome that served as the factor's business office. The alien was there on the pad to greet them, robes fluttering in the cold wind that blew on the world's surface. In the bleak, industrial setting of the decrepit port, she looked exotic, out of place.

"Such a pleasure to see you once more in the flesh," she said, taking Tayaira's hand in hers. Her fingers were moist and webbed; the touch was clammy, but Tayaira steeled herself not to shudder or recoil. "Let us go to my private office, where we may arrange your most pressing business. Your valiant crew may amuse themselves, no doubt?"

"Of course," said Tayaira. She turned to the others. "Wait while our business is transacted," she said. "Explore the port, by all means, but do not stray out of communication range."

"There is much here to divert," said Cysitra, "though Galpor may appear less than aesthetic. Let us repair within." And she led Tayaira to the dome.

Inside, it was cool, humid, and brightly lit, the walls painted with abstract designs in colours that soothed the eye. "Will you take refreshment?" Cysitra asked. "I have spirits and elixirs from all over the galaxy in my private supply."

"Perhaps later," said Tayaira. Was there something different about the alien's face? "I must attend to my most immediate needs, first." She held up her hands. In her left, she held the isolinear chip Klur had given her - the one he said would get them rescued. In the other, the flame jewels glittered. Cysitra caught her breath.

"By all means," she said, "business first." She led Tayaira through a doorway, to a communications console. "This subspace communicator should meet your needs."

"Eminently suitable," Tayaira said. She sat down at the machine, slotted in the datachip, and keyed the transmission sequence. "Confirmation will be registered directly," she said, turning her head to look at Cysitra.

"I am gratified to be of assistance," said the alien. Was there something about her speech, too? Tayaira thought hard.

Her nose. That was it. Cysitra's nostrils were... distended, and fixed. She was wearing some sort of nose plugs. Most likely, Tayaira thought, filters against Orion pheromones. And that meant she expected a pheromonal attack....

Unobtrusively, Tayaira tapped at her wrist communicator, sending the prearranged short sequence of pulses. The one that meant betrayal.

"Is there someone outside the door?" she asked, though she had heard nothing. She had heard nothing, but as the alien's headcrest turned white and folded down, she knew she had guessed correctly.

"Ah," said Cysitra sadly, "I had hoped to avoid unpleasantness. But you must realize that the gratitude of the Federation is, perhaps, harder currency than you might think."

"Oh," said Tayaira, "I understand completely." Her hand dropped to the top of her boot, to the disruptor pistol concealed there. "It is simply a matter of good business, after all."

Fallout 10

"Security alert!"

Klur's head snapped round. "Disruptor fire... one shot only, so far... officers' quarters, deck six, corridor nine," the security officer reported.

"First Officer. With me. Bring weapons. Ops, you have the conn." And Klur left the bridge at a run. Tayaira paused long enough to draw a disruptor rifle from the rack, then followed.

The dark corridors of the carrier rang with their urgent footsteps. They paused, panting, at the door to the officers' quarters. Tayaira checked the charge on the disruptor rifle as Klur keyed the intercom. "Report. Any more shots?"

"No, sir," the security officer replied.

Klur glanced at Tayaira. "On the count of three," he said, "inside. Weapons ready." His disruptor was in his hand. "One. Two. Three!"

The door slid open and they burst through. Tayaira levelled her rifle - and stopped. There was no one in the room.

But there was something on the floor, by one of the bunk beds - Tayaira's eyes widened.

A severed hand, still oozing Klingon blood, lay on the deck, next to a bloodied d'k tahg blade, and a datapad. Nearby, the deck plates were scorched, as by a sudden energy release. Klur holstered his disruptor. He stepped forward, stooped, picked up the datapad.

"'I go now to Gre'thor'," he read out, "'but I will not take with me the hand that murdered a world. D'Elara, daughter of Skor, operations officer, IKS QIb laH'e''." He shook his head. "Stupid. Stupid."

Tayaira lowered her rifle. "She cut off her own hand," she said, "and then shot herself?"

"So it would appear." Klur touched his communicator. "This is Captain Klur. Stand down security alert."

"She cut off her own hand," Tayaira repeated.

"It took courage, and strength of will," Klur said. He spat. "And these things were wasted. Such foolishness...."

"Sir," said Tayaira, "we need to talk. Morale is bad, sir, and this - this -" She shook her head. She could find no words for what had happened. "Sir, this will worsen things yet further. We are listening on the channels you designated, but there are no transmissions. We must -" She stopped. She had no idea, any more, what they could do.

"We remain concealed and silent," said Klur, "until there is word that we may return to Qo'noS safely. It will come. Starfleet will never find us here."

"What does that matter," Tayaira snapped, "if we start to kill ourselves?"

Klur turned on her with a warning glare. She glared back. "We must do something," she said, "to prove to the crew that there is hope."

"What do you suggest?" Klur demanded.

She thought. "My House had contacts in the Federation. Perhaps we can seek out someone who can provide us with more information.... It is the waiting, sir, for a message that never comes, that weighs most heavily on our minds."

"The message will come," said Klur.

"You have confidence, sir, but the crew must be convinced."

"We cannot break communications silence ourselves, and we cannot safely leave this asteroid field. What, then, do you propose?"

"Perhaps, if we sent out an auxiliary vessel - your Chariot, sir, for instance - it might not be recognized, and might reach a non-aligned world nearby...."

Klur nodded. "It is a possibility. I will consider it." He looked round, as a shadow filled the doorway. "Yes?"

The Nausicaan warrior stood gaping at the scene. "I," he said, and gulped. "These are my quarters, and Lieutenant D'Elara's...."

"Yes," said Klur. "Jikkur, is it not? Lieutenant D'Elara is dead. You are now elevated to her rank and responsibilities. Serve well and bravely."

For one brief instant, the Nausicaan hesitated, and a strange look came into his red eyes. Then he raised his fist in salute. "Yes, sir!"

"Arrange for this place to be cleaned," said Klur. He still held the datapad in his hand; now, he dropped it to the floor. "We shall return to the bridge." He strode off down the corridor, and Tayaira followed.

As soon as they were out of earshot of Jikkur, Tayaira said, "Sir, did you see him? He hesitated when you gave your command."

Klur nodded shortly. "I saw. I cannot currently afford to dispose of any crew members - not while I cannot receive replacements. But watch that one. Watch him closely."

Fallout 4

The Orion woman with the close-cropped dark hair strode with military efficiency along the corridors of the QIb laH'e'. They were dark, almost deserted. So many of the crew were... not sulking, exactly, she thought... but withdrawn, sullen, fearful.

She reached the door, took a deep breath, held it for a count of three, exhaled. She touched a panel, and a buzzer sounded.

For a moment, there was no response. Then a muffled voice said, "Who is it?"

"Captain," she answered, "it is First Officer Tayaira." No intercom. He was on the other side of the solid door, and she hoped he could hear her. "We are at the coordinates you ordered. We have been phased and under strict sensor and radio silence for two hours. Your crew awaits your further orders, sir."

The door hissed open. Klur was standing there, just inside the room, his dark hair tangled and unkempt. Behind him, his quarters were in almost total darkness, just one fitful flame burning in an ornate holder - some religious trinket, she remembered, from a conquered world; he had kept it as a memento. He stared at her, and his gaze seemed unsteady.

"Orders," he said, "yes." With a sinking feeling, Tayaira realized that she could smell alcohol on his breath. How drunk was he? And how bad were things -?

"Come in," he said, and turned, blundering his way to a desk console. He hit switches, blinked as the lights came on, rummaged on the desk for a datapad. "Here. We're to proceed to -" his finger came down on the pad "- these coordinates, now, at warp. Nebula, emission nebula - mask our warp signature -" He heaved a sigh. "The Feds will be looking for us, hard."

"They are not alone, sir," Tayaira said. "We are receiving orders, repeatedly, from Fleet Command. They order us to return to Qo'noS. Sir, they are becoming increasingly forceful and urgent."

"Figures," said Klur. "No response. Maintain subspace silence. Can't return to Qo'noS if Starfleet gets us, can we?"

"No, sir. And your plan to mask our warp signature is a sound one. But, sir -"

He scowled at her. "What?"

"Sir." She screwed up her courage. "If I am to be your First Officer, I must know something of what is in your mind. Simply enough to - to be effective. It is necessary, sir."

His scowl faded, slightly. "Necessary, yes." He stumbled towards the bed, sat down on it heavily. "All right, ask."

"Sir... what is to become of us? Are we - are we renegades? Have we acted outside the High Council's wishes?"

He laughed. "Yes and no. Politics. High Council's full of politicians. 'm waiting for a word... to show they've made their minds up. They will. They will back me. I have promises."

"Promises." Her spirits plummeted. Promises. A Klingon's word was inviolable, a promise bound up his honour with his truth... except when it didn't. Was Klur really so foolish as to trust a politician's promises?

"They jus' need time," he said, "time t' get their heads around it. What we've done. They can't take it back, so they have to... to own it. Make it their own. Got t'be the way. Jus' need a little more time t'make the decision... then we go back t' Qo'noS as heroes. Besides. They owe me. Did 'em a favour."

"A favour, sir? Destroying the planet... was a favour to someone on the High Council?"

"That? No." He laughed. "That wasn't the favour."

Fallout 1

"Deployment is complete." There was not even a tremor in the operations officer's voice as she made her report.

Captain Klur nodded, and leaned back in his command chair, his eyes scanning the bridge of the IKS QIb laH'e'. "Bring us to low orbit," he ordered. "Signal the planetary administrator."

A low rumble echoed in the bridge as the carrier's impulse engines sprang to life. With a deep intake of breath, First Officer Talakh rose to his feet.

"Sir," he said, "I formally protest against your orders in this matter. This course of action is -" He took another deep breath. "Sir, you must find an alternative. This action will not be accepted by the Council, it will -"

He got no further. Klur raised his hand, and the disruptor pistol in it spat green light across the bridge. Talakh collapsed on the spot, his chest a smoking ruin.

Klur snarled. "Does anyone else contest my orders?"

Commander Kysang rose from the tactical station. He was the oldest officer on the bridge, and admired by all for his long record of battles in the Empire's service. He spoke, now, with the authority of complete conviction. "This action is without honour."

Klur's disruptor spoke again, the bolt hitting Kysang between the eyes. As the headless body toppled to the deck, Klur shouted, "How many more must die before I am obeyed?"

No one spoke.

Klur holstered his disruptor. "Second Officer Tayaira. You are now First Officer. Have those corpses removed. And where is my comms channel?"

"I have the administrator now!" the comms officer shouted, fear edging his voice.

"On screen," Klur ordered.

The main screen shimmered, and the administrator's image appeared. "I am Administrator Frerv," the Tellarite said. "Say your piece, Klingon, then get off this channel, and haul that wreck of a ship out of my sky."

"I will be brief, then," Klur said. "I demand your immediate surrender, and that your world recognizes the overlordship of the Empire. Resist, and you will be destroyed."

"Empty threats," the Tellarite sneered. "That Fek'lhri carrier of yours might look impressive, but it's one ship, Captain. You can't take on a whole world with one ship. All right, I've heard your ultimatum, now you hear mine. Get out before a Starfleet task force arrives and kicks you out of this system in a million smoking pieces. Clear?"

"Pellucid." Klur smiled. "Very well. I have presented my demands, you have rejected them. The next step is for you to take the inevitable consequences." He turned to the operations officer. "Activate."

The operations officer froze at her post. "Activate what?" Frerv demanded from the screen.

Klur drew his disruptor. "Is your hearing deficient? Activate."

The ops officer swallowed hard. Her hand came down on her console. "Activating," she whispered. She looked down. "Activation... confirmed."

"I offered you the choice of life under Imperial rule," Klur said to the screen. "I do not offer you any alternative, Tellarite. I have seeded the high orbitals with tricobalt cluster munitions, and they are now descending. Some are targeted at your planet's population centres, but the majority will detonate at altitude, creating a coordinated airburst -"

"You're insane!" Frerv interrupted. "An attack like that will irreperably damage the planet's ecosystem!"

"It will sterilize half your planetary surface!" yelled Klur. "And the nuclear winter that follows will finish off all life that remains! That is the death you have chosen, Tellarite, so embrace it! I burn your world as an offering to the Empire!" He turned to the comms officer. "All that is necessary has been said. You may close the channel."

"Wait!" Frerv screamed. "We - we surrender! Call it off! We surrender!"

"I regret," said Klur, "that the mass of the munitions, and my own limited resources - I have only the one ship, as you pointed out yourself - meant that only the most basic command and control interface could be included. The weapons are descending now, and they cannot be recalled or destroyed. You have perhaps three minutes left of life, Administrator Frerv. Enjoy them. Close channel."