"At least it is a problem we do not have," I muse, as I sit contemplating the astrographic display.
"Sir?" says Bi'or.
"Historical background," I say. "All this uncovering of old secrets, old betrayals... it is scarcely relevant to my people." I smile without humour. "What would we learn, from this archive? That we were betrayed, oppressed, abused? We already know these things.... Reman history. It is unpleasant, but it is in no way complicated."
"You might find out more about those who abused you," says Bi'or, "and seek vengeance?"
"To what end? There is not enough blood in the galaxy to wash out the memories of my people's oppression.... Where is the Dechenchholing, currently?"
"Still in formation," Kaxath reports. "Holding course and speed."
"The Talaxian is a reasonably competent shiphandler, at least," I mutter. Truth be told, I do not know the full capabilities of the Hazari destroyer, and that bothers me a little. At present, the Dechenchholing is at warp, maintaining a constant course towards Eta Meridia, with the Palatine tucked neatly behind her, hopefully obscured by her warp contrail from casual inspection.
I turn, surveying the bridge. Everything seems normal enough... N'aina, I notice, is absorbed in work at the main engineering console. "Engineering. Is there a problem?"
N'aina looks up. "Oh. No, sir. Just some work that needs to be done - specs on the combat interface with the Hazari ship, and -"
"Combat interface?" I ask.
"Hazari ships are designed to support each other in battle," N'aina says. "With a little work on integrating the combat data transfer protocols, we can take advantage of that, if we have to go into battle with the Dechenchholing."
"I see." I consider. "I am not sure that I want us to be dependent upon another vessel...."
"It's not dependency, sir," says N'aina. "Just another potential asset. Like, well, the other project I have on hand."
"Other project?" She works well on her own initiative; this is good. But I prefer to be kept informed -
"I took the opportunity to integrate a Starfleet photonic support package into Engineering. If the engineering crew suffer casualties in combat -"
"A Starfleet engineering hologram? Be very careful with that," I growl. "I heard what happened on Voyager."
"I'm taking precautions, sir."
"See that you do. The last thing I want is for my ship's systems to start exploring their feelings in prose and demanding equal rights." There is a snort of suppressed laughter from somewhere on the bridge.
"I'll be careful, sir," says N'aina.
Then E'Maon speaks up. "I have a signal," he announces. "Fragmentary - subspace channel in the epsilon range - I am attempting to resolve it."
This sounds interesting. "Who uses those frequencies?" I ask.
"Several possibilities," says E'Maon absently, his fingers almost stroking the comms console. "Got it. Ferengi, automated distress signal." He turns towards me. "There are interference patterns suggesting it is being deliberately jammed."
Intriguing. I think for a moment. "I doubt we can afford to be distracted from our primary mission -" I begin.
"Incoming message from the Dechenchholing," E'Maon interrupts. "On secure channel."
I sigh. "On screen."
The Talaxian's face appears on my viewer. "Palatine," she says. "Change of plan. We're picking up a distress signal from a Ferengi ship -"
"You are not thinking of investigating? We have a mission in progress."
"Investigate, hell," says Pexlini. "We're moving to offer assistance. Course change in two minutes, so, yanno, better get ready to shift?"
I sit bolt upright in my command chair. "Have you lost your mind? Starfleet might have some obligation to assist vessels in distress - might I remind you that you are not currently supposed to be Starfleet?"
"Dunno how it is where you come from, but my momma always told me everyone's got an obligation to answer distress calls. Course change in one minute forty-five, now, so get ready."
"I have long-range readings, sir." E'Maon has an earpiece in place, now, and his console is alive with data readouts. "Ferengi Nandi-class warship under attack by an Orion battleship. There's another contact -" He puts his hand to the earpiece. "Starfleet vessel, USS Morden, signalling immediate response."
I glare at Pexlini. She is looking off the screen. "There. Starfleet has the matter in hand. Now will you see sense?"
"Nuh-uh," says Pexlini. "I'm getting specs on the Morden now, she's a Miranda-class frigate, no way she can hold off a battleship by herself -"
"A Nandi-class warship -"
"Is already in trouble, right, or they wouldn't be asking for help. Anyway, I'm kinda done talking, here. Setting course, three four mark three seven niner, executing in one." The screen blanks out.
I snarl. "Quixotic halfwit!"
"Orders, sir?" says Bi'or.
"Shoot her down ourselves, or abort the mission, or - back her up. I know which I would prefer, but - Follow the Dechenchholing's course change. Stay cloaked until we are well within combat range. Crew to battle stations."
Alert sirens sound. Palatine swings smoothly around, following the Hazari ship's new course.
"The situation is - becoming clearer," says E'Maon. "The Ferengi ship is emitting substantial random radiation - consistent with a ruptured plasma manifold. Their main drives must be down. The Orion ship will have their shields down in minutes, at this rate. The Morden is producing a lot of comms chatter -" He pulls a face. "I think the Morden's captain is trying to persuade the Orions that they do not want Starfleet involvement or Federation witnesses to whatever they are doing."
"Persuasion rather than combat. Sound enough reasoning, since the Morden is so much weaker.... Is it working?"
"Not as far as I can see, sir." Well, that is often the trouble with persuasion and diplomacy. "Dechenchholing is dropping out of warp."
"Follow suit. Stand by to decloak."
The situation is clear, now, on my tactical display. The Ferengi Nandi-class is a fast, powerful light warship - its agility is normally one of its strengths, though. With its drive crippled, this one is now bleeding flames from a dozen or more hull breaches, as the Orion Slavemaster-class battleship attacks with ferocity and without subtlety. Dazzling pinpoints of light streak past the Slavemaster's prow - photon torpedoes. With proper Starfleet punctiliousness, the Morden is firing warning shots.
Pexlini, at least, has better sense. Dechenchholing crashes out of subspace and arrows straight for the Orion ship, closing hard and fast, and unleashing a barrage of cannon fire. Corrosive plasma weapons, tuned to disrupt structural integrity fields and the crystal structure of hull armour. Typical Hazari armament. The battleship's shields flare and waver under the assault, and fire blooms from its flank as some of the bolts pierce through.
The Slavemaster turns, presenting its main armament towards this new threat, disruptor beams lashing out at the Dechenchholing. Now, it is Pexlini's turn to have her shields battered - but the Hazari ship has deployed a shield drone, and, for the moment, those shields are heavily reinforced. For the moment - I plot the Orion ship's movements in my head, work out its probable weak points, judge my optimum position -
"Flank speed, two niner seven mark three eight five. Target forward batteries. Divert all excess power to weapons, ready the singularity projector -" And wait, and wait - Now. "Decloak and fire!"
Palatine shimmers into visibility amid a blaze of green-hot plasma fire, beam arrays and torpedoes tearing at the Slavemaster's aft shields. The shield glows brightly for a moment, then fails - just in time for the singularity projector to do its work. A collapsing quantum singularity, projected along the line of my ship's spine - now, slamming into the battleship's hull with the force of a falling asteroid, exotic energies surrounding it, tearing at the ship's armour -
Dechenchholing comes about in a screaming tight turn and swoops over us, unleashing the white-gold fury of another cannon barrage into the Slavemaster at point-blank range.
The battleship's impulse engines glow brightly as it pulls away at flank speed, trailing air and burning debris from its ravaged flank. Its disruptors flash fire back towards us, but it is weak and uncoordinated, barely enough to irritate my forward shields. We have hurt that ship, hurt it badly.
"Morden and Dechenchholing are both transmitting demands for surrender to the Orion ship," E'Maon reports.
I nod. "Add our voice to theirs." The Orions are pragmatists, they will surrender well before they die -
The screen goes white.
Palatine rocks and judders; warning lights flash against shields and inertial dampeners. "What was that?" I demand. On the tactical display, there is nothing but a cloud of white-hot vapour where the Slavemaster was. "That was more than just a core breach -"
"Scanning now," says E'Maon.
"Whatever it was," says N'aina, "we took it - no structural damage, just stress on the shields -"
"Signal the other ships. Offer assistance if necessary." The Dechenchholing appears no worse hurt than ourselves - the Morden had the good sense to hang back once the shooting started in earnest - but the Ferengi ship might have suffered more damage in the blast.
"Getting readings now," says E'Maon. "Not just a core breach - there was a core breach, but it was secondary to a high intensity antimatter detonation. And there were numerous smaller explosions, too... I've heard of things like this," he says, and his expression is grim.
"Explain," I snap at him.
"Scuttling charges," says E'Maon. "A single antimatter charge to ensure a core breach... and smaller charges, too, in the ship's shuttles and escape pods. To make sure, in the event of possible capture - there are no survivors."
I stare at him. "No sane commander would permit such modifications to their ship -"
"Nobody would choose to, certainly," says E'Maon. "And the Orion Syndicate, if you ask them, will say that this sort of thing is just a rumour. A tall tale. And mostly, that's true." He looks at the cooling vapours on the main viewer. "Except, today, it isn't."
---
The damage to our ships is negligible. The Ferengi warship, however, requires hours of jury-rigging before it can even limp away. There is little I can do, only worry and wonder.
What were those Orions doing? What was so secret about their mission, that they had to be completely destroyed in case they should reveal it?
There are no answers from the particulate debris of the Orion ship. And the Ferengi are, at least apparently, an innocent party in this affair - they claim to have no idea why they were attacked, and we cannot press them too closely. If this were Republic territory, I could make them talk, I know -
As things stand, I can only brood.
I am still brooding when a hail comes from the Dechenchholing. When she appears on the screen, Pexlini looks tired, harassed and unkempt.
"Been helping with repairs to the Nandi," she says.
"What do you want?" I retort. "A commendation for your selflessness?"
"Just keeping you in the loop," Pexlini replies. "See, I got to chatting with some of the Ferengi, and, well, when my family first arrived in this quadrant, we got sorta caught by the Ferengi Alliance. So I know a bit about how they operate, kinda thing."
"Is there a point to any of this?"
"Yeah. One of them let slip they were working for the FCA's External Auditing Division."
"How utterly fascinating." I glare at her.
"External Auditing," Pexlini says, with oh-so-obvious patience in her voice, "is one of those euphemism things, kinda-sorta. It does exactly what it says, keeps tracks of assets external to the Ferengi Alliance. Military assets, mostly. That ship was on a mission from, well, basically Ferengi military intelligence. So, you got any guesses as to what they might've been chasing after? 'Cause I keep turning it over in my head, and the only answer I got is, same thing as us."
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