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Star Trek was created by Gene Roddenberry, and is owned by Paramount Pictures. It is not mine. Please do not sue me.

"Shot In The Dark"

By Tail Kinker

"Captain! Missile launch, on bearing one fifteen mark three fifty!"

The shock nearly immobilized him, but instinct and training took over. "Hard to starboard. Shields up. Charge all weapon systems."

"Shields are still charging, Captain." The engineer's mate at the station was sweating. "I can give you counterfire now, but the main phasers are still cold."

Weber moved to the science station. "Mister Salazar, jamming, please. Captain, I have the missiles on sensors, and am cross-decking targeting to the weapons systems."

David nodded. "Mister Obrecki, you are clear to return fire." He scowled at the tactical plot; he'd been hoping to interpose the main navigational deflector between the missiles and his ship. Had the Kepler been clean, he might have managed it. But his ship was towing sixty-four thousand tonnes of dead weight.

Ensign Salazar flooded space with the white noise of jamming, and the missiles promptly lost lock. However, their designers had anticipated this, and their backup guidance system switched on. The LIDAR systems could not be jammed, and locked onto the largest targets in their boresights. The starboard-side point defense LASER turrets opened up, hammering space around the missiles with beams of coherent ultraviolet radiation. First one, then a second, missile was struck by a beam of energy, intense enough to be effectively solid, and was promptly smashed to fragments. But the other two bored in, past the point defense systems, and struck their targets.

The first had locked onto the second cargo container being towed by the tug. The warhead was programmed to detonate within seven hundred meters of a target, but such was the missile's speed that it plowed into the container while its warhead was still undergoing detonation. The explosion, contained within the canister, blew it apart like a cherry bomb in a pop can. Grain, mail, water, and coffee beans were spilled in a massive cloud behind the transport, and automatic safeties jettisoned the canister before the stresses caused by its now-uneven load could cause damage to the rest of the ship.

The second missile passed just above the starboard warp nacelle, and detonated. The hull was hardened against electromagnetic pulse, but the designers had not anticipated a nuclear warhead; modern phasers and torpedoes had rendered such weapons obsolete. But obsolete or not, the damage it caused was substantial.

The fissionables carried in the impulse engines leaped towards critical, and the reactors automatically scrammed, shutting down all four drivers. The gravitic wake created by the drive failed, leaving the Kepler dead in space. The starboard warp engine lost containment, its matter/antimatter reactor assembly went into emergency shutdown, and the resulting backblast of parasitic energy shut down the main energizer and the antimatter feed as well. Luckily, the antimatter containment bottle was heavily shielded and independently powered; the antimatter remaining in the M/ARA was vented to space, creating a sparkling wake of plasma behind the crippled ship.

On the bridge, crewmembers were tossed about, the sudden blast disorienting the computer's control over the inertial compensation and artificial gravity. An EPS conduit beneath the environmental sub-systems monitor overheated and blew out, a plume of blue fire jetting out of the vent beneath the station. The main viewscreen dissolved into a snarl of static, the lights flickered erratically, and for a few long moment, it seemed that the only working system on the bridge was the howling klaxon of the alert status indicator.

"Damage report!"

"Main energizer offline, warp drive offline, impulse engines offline. No power to shields." Engineer's Mate Usher scowled at his readouts. "Sensors are offline, but short range scan should be available shortly."

"What is working? Would that be a shorter list?"

"Might be, Captain. I've got reaction thrusters, rear torpedo tubes - but no way to arm the torpedoes - and enough phaser power for six seconds sustained fire at most."

"Who the hell hit us?" David collapsed back into his seat. "Find the son of a bitch!"

"Short range scan still inoperable, Captain." Obrecki hammered at his instruments. "Trying passives...Got him. Bearing fifteen mark two. He's in our forward phaser arc. Range is opening, but I can't lock it down."

"Return fire!"

With short range scan unavailable, Obrecki was forced to take his best shot on manual control. He shifted the manual aiming toggle, lining up on the retreating ship, and dialled the phasers to burst mode. He triggered ten shots, rapidly opening the range, in the hopes of bracketing the ship.

His gamble paid off; the third and fourth bursts detonated close enough to cause the target's shields to flare brilliantly.

"He got his shields up, sir, but I think we handed him some burnout. He's running."

"Mister Weber, did you get a make on him?"

"Not yet, sir." Weber scowled at his console. "Got some good visuals, but the library computer is still chewing on them."

"What were they? Romulans?" The Captain stood and walked over to the science station. "They came out of nowhere, and used nukes. Wasn't that what the Enterprise reported, when she encountered Romulans?"

"No, sir." Weber pulled up a grainy visual, and did his best to enhance it. "The Romulans used plasma weapons, even while cloaked, though they apparently had to de-cloak to fire. If we'd been hit by a plasma weapon, we wouldn't still be here."

"Looks like a Klingon design." David shook his head. "But I'm not familiar with this layout."

"I'd be surprised if you were." Weber pulled up a three-view of the Klingon warship. "This is a Klingon D-3, Federation reporting name Raptor. They're very old, like over a hundred years."

"Over a hundred--"

"The Klingons never throw anything away, not if its guns still work." Weber tapped the screen. "This is the first time I've ever seen one, though. Maximum warp factor of four, impulse acceleration about twenty percent higher than our own, and about twice as high a top speed - nearly point eight cee. Ten photon torpedoes, two particle cannons, four point-defense lasers, and sixteen nuclear missiles - but this data is almost as old as that ship, so you can bet anything from credits to dilithium that they've upgraded it. Shields in the three-megajoule range, navigational deflectors, but no defensive screens. Crew of sixteen."

"That's it?"

"The Klingons rely heavily on automation on their smaller warships."

"Okay. Keep me posted if anything else turns up." He turned to the Engineering station. "Mister Usher. Give me some good news."

"There's not a lot of that, sir." Usher pulled at his mustache. "Damage control parties have reported in from all sections except starboard warp reaction control. I think we can assume that the starboard M/ARA is down for the count. Portside M/ARA is still operational, but with the main energizer out, it can't accomplish much. Main energizer repair time is three hours; they have to decontaminate the chamber first, but the damage isn't too bad. Auxiliary power and impulse reaction will be restored in twenty more minutes. Torpedoes are forget it; antimatter feed system is completely compromised. Once auxiliary power is restored, it will take us sixty minutes to recharge the shields and phaser banks."

"So eighty minutes until we're at fighting trim."

"Aye, sir."

"What about the launch tubes themselves?"

"Linear accelerators are still clean, but they need power to operate."

"Okay. Keep me informed."

"Aye aye, sir."

Finally, he turned to the astrogator "Mister Obrecki. Show me the system."

"Long range sensors are still offline, sir. Best I can give you is fossil data."

"I'll cope."

"Aye, sir." The astrogator called up the system on the plot. The Captain stared at the display, then tapped one of the gas giants.

"What's the magnetic signature of this planet?"

"Pretty high, sir. About fifteen times Earth normal."

"Lay in a course for a hyperbolic orbit opposite the planet. Execute when mister Usher gives you clearance to use impulse."

"Hide and seek, sir?"

"We need eighty minutes to get everything back online. If we can keep hidden that long, we might have a chance."

- - - - -

Koth whirled on Grel. "The target's shields were down! What happened?"

Grel was busy staring at his instruments, and missed the expression on his commander's face. "This type appears to have four additional point defense weapons, mounted on the primary hull. Two each port and starboard. It is not a standard Ptolemy-class transport."

"Why did not you detect this?"

Grel looked up, finally noticing his commander's ire. "My Lord, the LASER weapons used for point defense by the Federation do not emit radiation when charged. There was no way to detect them until they fired without an active scan, and an active scan would have revealed our position."

"Your incompetence has cost us a clean kill." Koth waved a hand in the general direction of his weapons officer. "If we had known of these point-defense weapons, our missiles could have been programmed to avoid them. Instead, the target survives, and we are forced to slink away!"

"It is not a matter of incompetence," snarled Grel. "The data on this ship is not complete; it is a new type, previously uncatalogued, that bears a resemblance to the Ptolemy-class. But there are obviously internal differences, and the point-defense arrays are different. If there is any failure, it is on the part of our intelligence officers for failing to acquire proper information on that ship!"

Koth opened his mouth to retort, but then realized that Grel's hand had fallen to his dk' Taj. He hesistated, then decided that he did not want to kill his sensory officer just yet. Instead, he turned on his engineering officer. "Damage report?"

"Shield number three failed, some burnout creepage on portside thrusters. Nothing major, and we can have thrusters restored in forty tup."

"At least someone here can do his job." Koth turned back to Grel. "Where is the target?"

"Moving away at fifteen gravities. Thrusters only." Grel tapped a control. "Their course will bring them near the outer gas giant of the system. We may lose track of them in its magnetic field."

"So noted." Koth scowled, then turned back to the engineer. "Vash! Can your damaged thrusters still give us twenty-five gravities?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"Helmsman, lay in an intercept course. Take us away from them initially, then bring us in to intercept them just inside the magnetic field of the gas giant."

"I will need observing time to refine our course before I can plot a countercourse."

"Take what you need." Koth scowled at the retreating ship. "But I want a silent approach. And this time, we will use the torpedoes." He looked over at the engineer again. "Make sure the loading crews know that this will be a rapid-fire situation."

"Yes, My Lord."

- - - - -

"Number one impulse drive is still offline, and I had to leave number four offline to compensate for the thrust imbalance." Chief Darr looked tired. "But you have one-half impulse power and seventy-five percent auxiliary power available, and you'll have full in ten more minutes."

"Noted, Chief." The Captain glanced over at the astrogator. "Mister Obrecki, recompute course for one-half impulse power, and execute."

"Aye, sir."

The Kepler was still crippled, but it leaped ahead gamely. At a total of one hundred fifty-eight thousand tonnes deadweight, even half impulse power gave it decent acceleration. The impulse wave began to break against its own leading edge shortly, however, and the ship settled down at 0.3 C, just under a hundred thousand kilometers per second.

"Sir, at our current velocity, we will enter the planet's radiopause in thirty minutes."

"Noted." David glanced over at his exec. "Tom? Any other ideas?"

"You're the captain, Captain."

"Come off it, Tom." The Captain snorted. "We both know you're the senior officer on this boat."

"Oh, yeah, by a whole three weeks. But you're the Skipper."

David snorted again. The two went back a long way; they'd been in the same Academy class, had served on the same ships on their middy cruise. It had been Weber that had assigned Rider David his nickname, after an Academy instructor had assumed that David's name had been written down backwards.

David hailed from Alpha Canaris II, where patronymics were used even among the English-speaking population. Canaris was a poor planet, and many of her younger sons went into the Service. David's own father, David Samuel, had served with distinction aboard the Bonaventure, retiring before that ship's disappearance. He had encouraged his sons to join Starfleet, and David had found himself shoehorned into the Academy, on a fast track to starship command.

Weber was, on paper, the commanding officer of U.S.S. Crockett, but an engineering mishap had left the ship in spacedock for a Class One refit, and a proper Captain was about as useful to a yard queen as shoes to a snake. He'd been assigned to the Kepler to assist with her shakedown, and had stayed on while his own ship was under the torch.

His style as an XO was definitely unusual, however. David sighed, and said, "So I assume that you have nothing further to add to my plan?"

"It's as good as I can see, Captain." Weber shook his head. "We've been handed a raw deal, but you're making the best of it, as far as I can tell."

"I just don't understand why they'd attack us." David frowned. "I mean, the Klingons are aggressive, but they're not insane. And we're not at war, no matter how strained the diplomatic situation is."

"Not entirely true, Captain."

"I know, Number One." The Captain rotated his chair to face the communications officer. "Mister Salazar. Please note in the official logs. As of stardate 3145.1, a de facto state of war exists between the Klingon Empire and the United Federation of Planets. Hostilities were initiated by the Empire, without warning or declaration of war, when an unidentified Raptor-class Klingon vessel fired into our ship, U.S.S. Kepler, NCC-3816."

"Logged, sir."

"Transmit to sector command."

"Transmitted."

"Next, I want a communications link to Deep Space Station K-3."

Salazar adjusted his communications rig. "I've got a lot of subspace jamming, sir. I can't burn through it with only one warp generator operating."

"Noted." The Captain tugged at an ear. "Jamming pods, maybe?"

"Or there's another ship out there somewhere."

"Possible." He thumbed his communications board. "Chief Darr, how long until long range scan is available?"

"Long range? Couple of days, assuming we don't finish up with the impulse drives, warp drive, main energizer..."

"Okay, I get the picture. Sorry to bother you, Chief." He released the communications toggle, and turned to Obrecki. "Ready a Class Two probe, load into tube two."

"Aye, sir."

Weber leaned in a little closer to his captain. "What about a messenger drone? Use one of the bomb-pumped commo birds, get a burst message to K-3?"

"It's a good idea, but I have plans for those birds."

"Sir." Obrecki looked up from his board. "Three-meter room reports Class Two probe is loaded in tube two. I have a navigation plot for the probe, and the onboard computer reports ready."

"Fire two."

Obrecki tapped the firing stud. "Probe away."

The echoing report of the linear accelerators lacked the urgency of a torpedo launch, and the lights dimmed as they entered their recharge phase. On the screen, the plot showed the take from the probe, but analyzing it was the business of the command intelligence officer.

Lieutenant Connors was working the data already. "I've got three jamming points, Captain. All clustered along the most direct route from here to K-3. No way to burn through it, even if we had full power available."

"Thank you, Mr. Connors." The captain glanced down at the astrogator's board again. "Nothing we can do, then, until we get full power back." He looked back at Connors again, and asked, "What's our friend doing?"

"He's moving away, relative bearing of zero-eighty-five mark five. Looks like he--" The Lieutenant frowned. "He's just vanished, sir. Right off my trace."

"What?"

"I said, sir, he's vanished." Connors' voice betrayed his impatience. "Loss of all light-speed data within a second of loss of grav data, which suggests that whatever he's using for camoflague, it's specific to the ship, and not related to the jamming buoys."

"Okay, thank you." David glanced over at Weber. "They're gonna try to sneak up on us again."

"Probably."

"If they use impulse drive, what's the closest they can get before we detect them?"

"Gravitic waves are FTL phenomenon. But they disperse like any other. And our long-range sensors are still down, even the passives. Probably they could get within one hundred fifty thousand kilometers on full impulse before we detect them."

- - - - -

"They've switched to impulse drive, but they're not producing full thrust. Currently, they are at one-third light-speed." Grel frowned at his instruments. "The best data we have on this type indicates a maximum sublight speed of one-half light-speed with one cargo canister, but--"

"Yes." Koth nodded. "Helm, will this affect your plot?"

"Yes, My Lord. But I have already compensated."

"Our speed?"

"Sixty percent light-speed. If we increase speed any further, we risk detection."

Koth scowled, and turned to the weapons officer. "Kreve! When we reach farthest point of approach to the Federation target, I want a self-emissions test with a charged torpedo."

"Understood, My Lord."

- - - - -

The traditional pipe of the ship's internal communications network caught the Captain's attention, and he mashed the illuminated button on the arm of his chair.

"Bridge. Captain here."

"Captain." Chief Darr's high-pitched voice was normally grating on the nerves, but the smug satisfaction in his voice went a long way to mitigating that. "We've reactivated impulse reactor number one, and you should have full thrust available at your discretion."

"Noted, Chief. Five minutes early, even. You have a miracle up your sleeve for the main energizer?"

"Afraid not, Captain. But we got some work teams out to the starboard nacelle."

David gritted his teeth. "Give me the bad news."

"We had eleven crewmen in the nacelle, between engineering crews and damage control. They're all dead. Massive radiation exposure." Darr's voice was bitter. "The Klingons hit us with a very dirty nuke; that's why we lost all those systems, is parasitic radiation transferral. The reactor is down completely, the dilithium crystal is...well, it's so full of cracks that I'm amazed it didn't just shatter."

"We carry spare crystals--"

"Yes, sir, we do, but it would take four hours to move one to the nacelle, install it, and then tune the engines. And the tuning would have to be done at relative rest to the primary."

"Okay, I understand. Can you spare two men to work on a Class Two probe?"

"I suppose. What do you have in mind?"

- - - - -

"We may have hurt them worse than I thought," said Grel. "They are still on two engines, still holding at one-third light-speed."

"Time to the radiopause?"

"Thirty tup. And our intercept will be complete five tup before then."

Koth grinned widely.

- - - - -

"Probe is complete, and we are loading into tube two."

"Still no sign of the Raptor?

"None, Captain."

"All right. I don't want to risk tipping our hand. Don't use the accelerators on the tube; swim it out on chemical thrusters only."

"Aye, sir."

"Fire two."

There was a dull thud as the torpedo tube's outer door opened, but no sound from the launch itself. The probe appeared on the tactical plot seconds later.

"It's clear of our screens, and program will activate in ten seconds." Obrecki glanced back at the Captain. "The onboard generators will only be good for forty minutes, Captain, maybe a bit less."

"Can you complete the transition in that time?"

"Yes. But it's going to be a bumpy ride." The tactical flared as the probe went active. "There it goes."

The tactical plot gave the complete story. With its onboard impulse engines carefully tuned, the probe was giving off the same gravitic emissions as the Kepler. Its navigational deflectors had also been carefully tuned, as had its power supply. Overall, the probe was now giving a mirror image of the crippled Kepler.

The ship's computer noted the probe's activation, and activated the ship's side of the deception. The defensive screens and navigational deflectors went down, as did the impulse engines and short-range scan. Kepler became a hole in space.

"Starboard-side thrusters. Start our turn."

"Aye, sir."

Without the gravitic bow-wake caused by the impulse engines, the Kepler was capable of higher speeds. But without navigational deflectors, the ship began to shudder under the impact of space-borne particles. David winced; Chief Darr had opposed this idea, but he needed time. And he seriously doubted that the Klingon Captain would allow him that time, unless he was duped.

"Burn complete. Planetary standard orbit in sixty minutes, Captain."

"Mister Connors, you stay married to that scanner, and let me know if you see any hint of the Raptor."

"Aye, sir."

David settled back into his seat, and did the hardest thing he possibly could do.

He waited.

- - - - -

"Target is still on a hyperbolic approach to the radiopause. Three tup to interception."

Koth nodded. "Stand by torpedo room for hot charge."

Grel blinked at the display. "Something odd about the target, My Lord. They haven't charged weapons. Their phasers are still cold." He looked up. "No matter how badly we damaged them, if they have impulse power, they would have managed to charge the guns."

"The Federation is made up of weaklings, Grel."

"It is not a matter of strength or weakness to ensure that you have the firepower to protect themselves. Why have they not charged their phasers?"

Koth stared at the tactical plot. "If their phasers are cold..."

"They cannot fire on us before we break contact."

"Torpedo room! Charge forward tube."

Kreve checked his status board. "Forward tube loaded and charged, and I have a firing solution."

"Fire!"

- - - - -

"There!" Connors stabbed at the screen.

"Good eyes. Can you track him?"

"Not for long."

"Probe destroyed, Captain."

"Distance to radiopause?"

"Two minutes at maximum impulse."

"Execute plan Baker."

Kepler accelerated at maximum impulse speed, reaching 0.45 light-speed. The after torpedo tube belched out a proximity mine, set to self-destruct after thirty minutes so as not to become a navigation hazard.

- - - - -

"Target destroyed. Explosion was not consistent with a starship."

"A decoy!" Koth glared at the sensory officer. "Find them! Now!"

"Contact on screen. They are under full power, and entering the radiopause."

"Run them down! Full power to impulse engines!"

The Raptor came about, its engines glowing from exhaust heat, and dove down on its target, disruptor conduits glowing with power.