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 but withdrawn, sullen, fearful.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."