Chapter 3

"I repeat," transmitted the unseen C.O. of a sharp-edged security vessel soaring straight up from the surface of its beautiful blue-red world. "You are transgressing the space of Altair VI and breaching Federation regulations regarding member-planet propriety. As well as long-held laws pertaining to Romulan Warbirds in Federation regions of the Alpha Quadrant! Respond or else we shall be forced to open fire and disable your nacelles."

"Listen to them," scoffed the sovereign ruler of Capella IV, Teer Leonard James Akaar. "Pleading laws and scolding us as a parent to its unruly child. Power up plasma weapon! Prepare to reduce this smaller ship and its cringing crew into blasted bits to hurtle harmlessly into surrounding space."

"As you wish, Teer," nodded one of the Capellan casts of barbarous warriors, dressed head-to-booted feet in a lavender leotard-type habiliment complimented by a single sash of bluish pelt. Something similar, save in its precise color combination, to all soldiers in service to their Teer. "Fire your power weapon at that craft, Romulan!"

That relayed Royal Order was punctuated by the pointing of a Romulan disrupter directly at a leg of the Vulcan-like Centurion kept alive for just such a situation. For the blasting off of a single solitary leg would not necessarily kill...but it would elicit an incredible degree of agony.

Even from a Romulan Centurion.

Scant seconds later...

Fzzzz-FOOOOMMM!

In the seconds quickly following the release of reddish Romulan plasma...

...the security craft from Altair VI silently exploded in the airlessness of space separating attacking warship, secretly called, by Leonard James Akaar, GENOCIDE!, from fully protected-via-the Federation world.

Even if one not too long a member of same.

"Enter the atmosphere of this puny planet," sinisterly snarled the child-leader with a mind more maturated than that of any Capellan adult, as well as the apparent intellect of the off-worlders whom had visited two years earlier. "Target the largest of their slothful cities with this ship's photon torpedoes. I want it utterly leveled! Let it act as an excellent example of what would await any whom would oppose us. Whom would oppose me! Quickly!"

"Your very Word is Absolute Law, Teer," half-bowed a broad-shouldered Capellan soldier dressed in a similar leotard-like raiment of bright red with dark red fur sash, as his disruptor weapon was aimed at an appendage of another Romulan Centurion pressed into the service of Leonard James Akaar. "You will loosen your energy orbs onto the greatest of cities as instructed...or I will relieve you of your left arm!"

Though the Centurion silently swore, in Romulan, for having to destroy a city of yet another planet of the dreaded Federation...

Fuhh-PUUMM! Fuhh-PUUMM! Fuhh-PUUMM!

Ba-BROOOOMMM! Ba-BROOOOMMM! Ba-BROOOOMMM!

...such stemmed not from any sense of disgust regarding the cold-blooded killing of countless thousands of innocents, but from the fact such had not been sanctioned by the Senate nor promoted by the Praetor of Romulus.

Which would, quite naturally, mean it could never be considered a Star Empire triumph.

"Heheheheh," lightly laughed, in a vile villainous manner, the misleadingly cherubic child-leader from far-off, after warping away in a sadistically expropriated Warbird, Capella IV. "We have, thus far, forced four Federation worlds to submit to our superiority. My superiority! And as yet no starship has dared to defy us. Capellan rule...my rule!...shall soon stretch all the way to the star system of my Human 'godfathers'. An unknowable number shall come to tremble at the mention of my name...Leonard James Akaar!"

Meanwhile, no more than three parsecs distant and quickly closing...

"Captain's log, Stardate: 4981.8. After receiving an urgent subspace transmission from Starfleet Command's Admiral Komack...regarding an aggressively attacking Romulan Warbird stolen by a two-year old Teer named after myself and Dr. McCoy, no less!...the ENTERPRISE has pushed her engines to a sustained Warp Factor 8.4! A relativistic velocity equivalent to nearly 639-billion kilometers-per-hour for several stress-filled...for both the engines and my crew compliment of officers and ensigns!...hours. Already word had come from Altair VI via subspace to attest to just how severe the situation was quickly becoming."

"Message complete, Captain," came a mildly worried report from Lt. Nyota Uhura from directly behind, and up one entire tier, the center seat of Captain James T. Kirk.

"On audio, Lieutenant," worriedly ordered Kirk, even as an intensely scowling Dr. Leonard H. McCoy continued to stand to the left side of the centralized command chair in the middle of the lower of the two tiered Deck One.

"Aye, Captain."

Just then, catching the attention of the entirety of the bridge, including, logically of course!, Commander Spock at his Science station, came the audio-only automated transmission from a recently assaulted Class-M member-world of the UFP...

"Repeating: a Romulan Warbird, having violated not only Federation borders but the sovereign space of Altair VI, first destroyed a security ship sent to warn away the craft. Then the capitol city of Altair VI...wherein resided our revered President since Stardate: 3372!...was largely obliterated by several photon torpedoes from that self-same Romulan Warbird. Request assistance for those still alive in the smoldering rubble of our once-celebrated city. And we demand some level of vengeance against those responsible for such an atrocity! Repeating..."

Just as the subspace auto-transmission started again, a hard hand-signal from Captain Kirk caused Lt. Uhura, that ebony beauty in red tunic-dress seated so seductively, or so it sometimes seemed!, at the Communications station, to silence the insistent signal.

Suddenly tossing out orders to pertinent bridge officers, Kirk quickly commanded, "Uhura, relay the request for assistance from Altair VI to Starfleet Command and the nearest Starbases. Mr. Spock, long-range scans of Altair space...try to pick up the Warp trail of that Romulan Warbird and transfer the trajectory readings to Navigation. Ensign Chekov, take those readings and plot a follow-course for the Romulan Warbird. Lt. Sulu, increase speed to Warp 8.7. Lt.-Commander Scott, keep the engines from falling apart long enough to reach that Warbird."

"Yes, Captain."

"Affirmative, Captain."

"Aye, Keptin."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

"I'll do me best, Cap'n."

As all 'round the bridge, officers worked to carry out person-specific orders delivered so determinedly by Captain Kirk, the handsome starship commander looked up to an equally concerned Chief Medical Officer on his left...

"It's beginning to look like just talking the young Teer out of all this isn't going to go as previously planned, Bones."

McCoy mulled it over via a mask of internalized despair and fearful realization that that aphoristic ship had, indeed, long since sailed. Then he lamentably looked down into the stress-filled face of his incomparable commander and fast friend in order to respond in a quiet-yet-moderately profane fashion...

"No shit."

END OF CHAPTER 3