Author's note: This chapter has been a bit delayed. That's because on February 3, I became a father again. It's a girl, we named her Isabelle, and she's doing great. But she does interrupt writing time a bit, so things may be slower in coming. But on with the show...
Kormack loved this. That was the strange thing. He'd always been a slightly weird bloke; a science officer on a ship where science took a definite back seat to survival. Klingons weren't bad at science, when they put their minds to it, but they were mostly interested in the sort of science that resulted in bigger and better weapons. If it made a big boom, Klingons approved of it. Kormack had to prove his ability to do that in order to do this job. Crowley watched him, her features quirking in distaste.
The lights of the cargo bay were a little brighter than normal for a Klingon ship. They had to see what they were doing. Several crates were stacked up in the back. In the front was their current job. Crowley eyed it with some disdain, the way someone will when they have a job to do that they don't particularly want to do. That was a fair assessment of things.
In front of them, on a table, was a large podlike object the same diameter and general shape as a photon torpedo, but about twice as long. She had designed the casing to fit Vor'moch's torpedo tubes, and she'd helped Kormack design the warhead. The theoretical part of it was all Kormack's, though. She understood the basics of it – as an engineer, she had a good working knowledge of particle physics. She hadn't seen the destructive potential, though – mostly, her skills ran to making sure everything ran smoothly on the ship. Theory wasn't her bailiwick. Kormack had designed it. The poor bastard; it had been his first chance to be a science officer in months, or maybe years. He'd been so happy when they got all the scientific equipment salvaged from Holden up and running.
The weapon looked good, although clearly homemade. Cables ran from the ceiling into the warhead mounted inside the device. Flashing lights indicated the levels of particles currently in the warhead.
The basics of the device were open to anyone who understood particle physics. Baryon particles were subatomic particles. Most of them were plain old protons and neutrons; the building blocks of atomic nucleii. But there were others. The first exotic baryon particles had been discovered a few hundred years ago, even before warp drive became possible. Science had found more, and some had scary potential.
Klingon ships had been spitting out a particular type of exotic baryon particle for years. Crowley still wasn't sure why; she thought it had something to do with the Klingon procedure for breaking down dilithium. The Klingons didn't consider it an issue; they slapped on a particle sink, gathered them up, and dumped them when they had the opportunity. It hadn't ever been a problem, so they hadn't done anything more.
Vor'moch, however, was cobbled together from Federation technology as well as Klingon, and things were different. Somehow, it had spat out another type of exotic baryon, one that no one had ever seen before. She'd followed the Klingon lead and simply collected them until poor old Kormack had asked to see it once. Odd how that had worked. Penicillin had been invented by accident; some pommy who had found mold growing on his bread. So had dynamite. Now this.
She didn't want to watch Kormack fuss over his toy. He would coo over the bloody thing like a baby. There was something distasteful in it. Right now, he was bent over the access port, staring at the warhead and watching the particles accumulate and looking like he was about to read it a story and put it to bed.
"Have you got things under control?" she asked.
Kormack looked up, a bit startled, and smiled guiltily. "Oh, yes," he said. "The collection procedure is running perfectly well. It'll be ready for launch in sixteen hours, give or take. Of course, the longer we wait, the stronger the final result will be."
"Right," she said uncomfortably. "I'm going to grab some food. Comm me if you need me."
He nodded. "Of course," he said softly, and returned to purring over his toy.
She left the cargo bay, heading for the mess hall. Alpha shift had ended about ten minutes ago. Karg would be leaving the helm. Maybe some dinner with him would get her back on track.
Her combadge buzzed. "Bridge to Crowley." It was Koth. She made a face and tapped it.
"Go ahead," she said.
"We have Karnaii engineers aboard. They have requested some help. They will meet you in the mess hall."
"Understood," she said.
It had been easy to sympathize with the Karnaii when they'd first met them. Vor'moch had been low on supplies and looking for a trading partner. They'd found a Karnaii colony. Their story had struck a chord – brave little battlers, waging a war against a larger, better armed foe. What they had been doing was simply evening things out, allowing the brave Karnaii to have a fighting chance against their Latarran oppressors.
At first it had been simple: the Karnaii had traded food and dilithium, and Vor'moch had supplied them with better weapons and shield technology. A few years ago, she'd happened across schematics for some outdated cloaking devices in one of Vor'moch's memory datacores. They'd tossed that in. It had been an easy thing to toss in. Vor'moch could detect Karnaii ships anywhere they were, but the Latarrans would not be able to.
Of course, it was a clear violation of the Prime Directive, but she hadn't even thought about that until Voyager had come along.
The memories flickered through her mind as she headed up to the mess hall and muttered her order to the replicator. It materialized her request a moment later, and she took her meal to the officers' dining room.
Then, out of nowhere, Voyager had come out of the heavens. They'd helped, completely oblivious to how Vor'moch had gone into battle anyway. She had fought mightily to keep her face straight when Kinsey spun Janeway some fish story about a Karnaii convoy. Amazingly, the captain had bought it.
If Voyager didn't know now, they would soon. The Latarrans hadn't been able to keep up with either ship, but the Latarrans on Spanos would be able to tell them that it had been no Karnaii vessel that carried out this attack.
Of all the times to encounter another Alpha Quadrant vessel. They were within sight of reaching their goal. They would get home. But now, of all times, there had to be a vessel on a similar quest. It was hard to be reminded of what she had once been.
She saw Karg enter the messhall and waved to him. He came up to her and sat down. He eyed her carefully for a moment before speaking. She sighed and watched him back.
"You are troubled," Karg said.
Crowley sighed. "What makes you say that?"
He pointed at the pile of chocolate-covered cookies on her plate. "You replicated raktajino and Tim Tams," he said. "Ten of them. You only replicate more than five when you are upset about something."
Crowley took a cookie, bit off both ends, and stuck it in her raktajino. Then she sucked the beverage in, as if the cookie was a straw. Finally, she crammed the entire gooey mass in her mouth.
"That is truly revolting to watch," Karg said, his tone making it clear he found it more amusing than revolting.
"You eat live worms and I put up with that. If you don't like it, don't eat with me," Crowley rejoined after swallowing the gelatinous mass.
"What troubles you? Voyager? They are no threat to us. We would know if they were near."
Crowley sighed. "Not just Voyager. I don't know if you could understand. We've been on this ship so long, a lot of us have forgotten there was a Starfleet. Now we see people in the same uniform, and they give us new uniforms...and...well, it's not easy, mate."
Karg nodded. "You could wear Klingon uniform," he suggested. "I am sure Captain Koth would agree."
Crowley chuckled bitterly and made another Tim Tam into sludgy, caffeinated goo. "I know why you want to see me in Klingon uniform," she accused. "I don't care for having my boobs shoved up under my chin. I'm surprised your women don't mutiny."
"They do not mind. Ask Sayba." Karg grinned, a bit nervously.
"They don't know there are comfortable uniforms out there," Crowley said. "Never mind. It's just...well...what happens now? Nobody was supposed to know, but...," she trailed off.
A third voice made her look up. "It doesn't matter. We'll handle Voyager."
She looked up to see the craggy face of Commander Kinsey, who took a moment before sitting down at the table with them. He eyed Klingon and human in turn and then took a pull at at his mug.
"I know it's not easy, and I know that Voyager appeared at the worst possible time. All the same, we're proceeding as planned." He put a hand on his engineer's shoulder. "We're going home, Crowley. Doesn't that mean anything to you? We have a plan. We know what we have to do. We know what we're doing. In a few days, Voyager won't matter anymore. We'll be back in the Alpha Quadrant."
Megan Crowley took another sip of the Klingon coffee. Klingon coffee. Klingon ship. Klingon boyfriend. She'd never expected to have any of those things. What happened when they got back?
"Back to Q'onos, or Earth?" she asked.
Kinsey appeared thoughtful. "That depends," he said. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
Karg appeared annoyed. "Haven't you served long enough with us to trust us?" he asked. "Do you think we would not support the Starfleeters?" In his eyes, there was obviously another question he wasn't going to ask, not in front of Kinsey.
"That's not it," she said. "How do we serve as Starfleet officers after...after this?" Her eyes flicked to Karg. "And are the Klingons at home going to be as open to Starfleet as you are?"
Karg's eyes narrowed. "They will learn," he said. "We have. We will stand behind our comrades."
She'd hear about it tonight. She could tell that from the look on his face. Kinsey sighed.
"Whatever happens then," he said, "we'll worry about it then. For now, our course is clear. You have your orders, Lieutenant. Carry them out."
Crowley sighed. "Aye, sir."
Kinsey nodded once and rose, heading out of the messhall. Karg cleared his throat.
"Do you really think we will not stand behind our comrades?" he repeated.
Crowley ate another Tim Tam in order to have a moment to think, enjoying the chocolatey, gooey taste.
"I know you would," she said. "But still, you know that other Klingons are going to mock you for being mates with us."
Karg shrugged. "Then they will. Our honor is still clear. We will defend it however we must."
"What about when we get back to the Alpha Quadrant?" she asked. "I mean, what's your family going to say...about us?"
Karg bared his teeth. "We shall see. Don't worry about it." His dark eyes held hers. "I could say the same for you, couldn't I?"
Crowley laughed ruefully. "It's a little different," she said archly. "You come from an ancient house on Q'onos that's thousands of years old. I come from a dusty little bush town in Queensland."
He meant what he said: he would stand by her. He'd been the one to save her from being turned into spare parts by the Vidiians. It wasn't really the future that was bothering her; it was the present. She didn't like what was happening in that cargo bay one bit.
The Karnaii engineering contingent came up to them then, interrupting the conversation.. The Karnaii were descended from rodents, and they looked the part. Their faces were furry, and they had whiskers. They were small and sleek. She recognized one of them – the chief engineer of the first Karnaii ship they'd ever met. His name was Srask, and he was a good engineer, doing a lot with what he had.
Karnaii ships were absolute disasters. They were trying to fight a war on a shoestring. Their ships were rickety and dangerous, and they couldn't do much more than pinprick their opponents. Half the bloody Karnaii fleet couldn't do more than warp three. The Maquis, back in the Alpha Quadrant, had been fighting a luxurious war by comparison.
"Good evening," Srask said in his squeaky voice, and extended a PADD. His battle uniform was sharp and crisply clean; the Karnaii were nuts about grooming. "I'm hoping you can help. We are having problems maintaining the cloaking field for longer than half an hour."
Crowley nodded. "Let's see the schematics," she said coolly. This was better: a technical problem she could work on. It would keep her mind off her problems: what happened when she returned to the Alpha Quadrant, Karg, and the weapon being slowly armed in the cargo bay.
It almost worked.
The colony of Spanos was a horror.
From space, everything had looked normal. The planet was a class-M planet, like many others. The colony had not been visible from space; the only indication of sentient life had been the Latarran ships converging on the planet. The sheer amount of ships was an indicator of trouble. When twenty ships were flying in a defensive pattern around a colony of only a hundred and fifty thousand people, that meant something was up.
Orbiting the planet had allowed Voyager to use its sensors, and that was where it had gotten harder. They could monitor the Latarran frequencies and hear the transmissions of relief workers on the surface. They could scan the main city; the power grid was shut off. The main city's highway system was a strange cross between a graveyard and a parking lot; the ground vehicles that Latarran colonists used stood still and abandoned. Only a few shuttles from military ships flitted back and forth.
A scan of the planet indicated no immediate danger; rescue and relief workers had reported no problems. Something had clearly gone wrong on this world, but there was no obvious battle scar. Captain Janeway had ordered an away team down to the surface. Tom Paris and the EMH were there to provide what medical support they could.
Almost all of the colonists were in the main city now. The hospitals were clogged with them. They were suffering from radiation burns, and it made Kathryn Janeway ill at her stomach to see them. Some bore sickly pink burns; others had deep red ones almost the color of human blood. Many had open, suppurating sores. Latarran ships were bringing down as many medical supplies as they could, and Voyager was also giving what it had to spare. Yet the sheer numbers of the wounded and dying seemed to overwhelm and enfeeble the efforts at aid.
The screams and cries of the hospital would remain with Kathryn Janeway for a long time, she thought. Three days ago, this had been a vibrant, growing colony. Now, it was a crowded island of horribly injured people crying out in pain as they died. Most of the colony was a ghost town; abandoned houses and vehicles for blocks on end.
Tom Paris and the doctor remained at Spanos's main hospital. She did not envy them. All the same, she had to meet with General Trame and see to the military situation. Voyager would help defend Spanos against whoever had done this.
As she walked along the path, recent sights and memories weighing down her mind and stride, she tried to think. It was hard to think rationally after the nightmarish vision of the hospital, but she had to. Rational thought could help keep the horror at bay, or at least shove it out of her consciousness for a littlle while.
Tuvok and a science team were trying to determine what had happened here. The Karnaii were the most likely suspects. Even Kinsey, who supported them, had admitted they fought dirty. Even though they had little access to modern technology, the 24th century offered a whole plethora of options for weapons that worked on a planetary scale.
But whatever it was had left little trace. They didn't know what sort of weapon had been deployed against this colony. But they knew what it wasn't. It wasn't nuclear; there was no fallout at all. It wasn't cobalt; a tricorder would have picked it up instantly. It wasn't trilithium; her Maquis knew how to scan for that. It wasn't biogenic; biogenic weapons didn't burn their victims.
The colony sported one military base at the northern tip of the main city. Even walking through the city was eerie. Once she got away from the hospital, the silence was deafening. Houses sat unoccupied. Offices and factories were completely still, devoid of workers. The entire place was maddeningly sterile.
The other center of activity on the colony was the military garrison. There, armed soldiers manned every checkpoint. There was a sense of determination here. An atrocity had been committed, and these soldiers meant to see that it did not happen again. There were phase cannons set up around the base. They were moving back and forth across the skies, searching for intruders.
A Latarran soldier stopped her at the main gate. It didn't take long to verify her identity and her purpose. The Latarrans assigned her a car and driver and brought her to the general's office. It was located underground, and well armored against an attack. There was a bunker-like feeling here: a feeling of concrete and claustrophobia.
General Trame looked pale and troubled. His face was pinched and there were bags under his eyes. He rose when she came into his office.
"Captain Janeway," he said. "Welcome. I wish it could be under better circumstances."
"Thank you. I understand," she replied. "We have our medical staff offering assistance. What is the current military situation?"
"Our current military status is nominal. Spanos is secure and free of any enemy vessels."
"The Karnaii," Janeway said.
"Yes. They had engaged in a few pinprick attacks after...after the main attack. Cowards." He shook his head in anger. "We should have killed them all when we had the chance."
Janeway paused. If anyone was entitled to anger, he was. All the same, war had a way of degenerating and costing more lives the more it did. "The Karnaii carried out this attack?"
He sighed. "That's what we thought. Except that the way this attack was carried out...suggests otherwise." Trame turned on a screen that resembled those aboard Voyager. He cleared his throat and tapped something on a keyboard at his desk. On the screen, several small, rickety ships materializd over the colony and fired at it. After a brief salvo, they returned to space, vanishing from view.
"Karnaii ships were engaging in opportunistic attacks for a few days after the first attack," he said. "They have made some great leaps in technology. These will be dangerous times we live in."
Janeway tilted her head and felt ill.
"The tactics are pure Karnaii – hit and run. Those weapons are new, however. Also, that...disappearing device." He adjusted the screen. "The ships simply disappear from our sensors. It's enough to let them get away. We can detect them shortly afterwards, but they appear to be improving the technology quite rapidly."
"A cloaking device," Janeway said. She could see where this was going. If the Karnaii had new weapons and cloaking technology, then the old balance of power the Latarrans were used to would no longer apply. The game would have new rules, rules not in the favor of the Latarrans.
"You have heard of such a device?" the general asked. "We have never seen such a thing."
Janeway nodded. "They're a common development on our side of the galaxy," she explained.
"Does Voyager have such a thing?" The general seemed shocked.
"No," Janeway said, and swallowed. Voyager had no cloaking device...but Vor'moch did. "Tell me about the main attack. What happened here, General Trame?"
The general adjusted his uniform jacket. "Four days ago," he began, "Spanos was a normal colony. From what we have reported, a ship simply...appeared in the atmosphere. It launched what we believe was a torpedo of some kind. My men are attempting to retrieve any of it that may remain. From eyewitness reports, we know that there was a great flash, and then...this."
He leaned forward, and it seemed his thin frame might explode from the anger thrumming in him. "All power went dead. None of our computers or machinery worked any more. We had no contact with Latarra Prime or anyone else. People were hideously burned. For four days, this world was thrown back to the Stone Age. Meanwhile, Karnaii ships attacked at their pleasure, strafing and adding to the death toll, hitting us when we could not fight back." He banged his fist on the table. "This colony had been peaceful! We had nothing to do with the Karnaii. We had no quarrel with them. All that is on Salim Ru. Now look. The Karnaii are a threat to all life. They must be stopped."
Kathryn Janeway watched him, wondering what would become of this area of space after Voyager had gone. The urge for revenge was understandable, even sympathetic. But if the Karnaii had new weapons to go along with their ruthlessness, then Spanos could become the first in an entire series of grievously wounded Latarran worlds.
"First," she said, "we have to secure the situation and investigate." Her tone dropped and became softer. "General, I understand your anger. I share it. I would feel the same desire for revenge in your shoes. But first, we have to look at what we do know. Was it a Karnaii ship who launched this weapon against Spanos in the first place?"
Trame's hand clenched. His face twisted...and then eased off. Janeway nodded; there weren't many people who could clamp down on a rage like that. They made for good commanding officers.
"No," he said. "A defensive squadron encountered and engaged the ship that did. It was much larger than most Karnaii vessels – about the size of yours. Unfortunately, they were...all lost in the battle."
As soon as he had said the size of yours, the bottom had begun to fall out of Kathryn Janeway's stomach. Cloaking devices. Energy weapons – ones that looked a lot like disruptors. She didn't like where this was going.
"We have this transmission, which we received from the squadron leader," he said, tapped out another sequence on the keyboard. The screen flickered and formed into the view from a Latarran bridge. The audio wasn't great; the high-pitched squeal that was the Latarran version of red alert blurred with the voices of crew in the background.
"They've destroyed our wingman!"
"Reading heavy damage to the front hull! Shields are down!"
"Evasive maneuvers! Full impulse!"
"Hull breaches on decks two and three! Captain, we're losing structural integrity! We're losing!"
The screen fuzzed into static and went blank.
It was only a few seconds, but it was enough. On the viewscreen of the Latarran ship was a large, green ship. It spat disruptor and phaser fire at its opponents. It bore Klingon wings and a Federation impulse engine that glowed blue. It had taken wounds that she had seen before – wounds she had helped to repair, in fact.
The Vor'moch.
"That is the ship that attacked Spanos," General Trame said. "Captain, we have been seeking that ship ever since we re-established contact with Latarra Prime and the other colonies. We haven't been able to find it."
Janeway was about to open her mouth and ask why; Voyager hadn't had any problem finding out. But the answer was clear enough: Latarran technology wasn't as advanced as their own.
"That ship has a better version of the disappearing device that the Karnaii are trying to use," he continued. "If the Karnaii obtain that device, along with their new weapons, then they are a threat to every Latarran alive, not just those on Salim Ru. Can your ship detect this one?"
For a few moments, she did not know what to think or feel. The sense of betrayal was palpable. This crime against a world that had offered no threat to Starfleet would not be borne. She wouldn't stand for it. Kinsey and his men had dined with her, repaired their ship with her help...all the while concealing this monstrous act. What else might they have to hide?
But there was something more. Why had Vor'moch done this? It didn't make sense for Vor'moch to attack this colony; the disputed colony was Salim Ru, not Spanos. Unless...
Everything fell into place. Karnaii ships, using their new weapons and cloaking devices against an enemy that was conveniently helpless. Shakedown conditions. The Karnaii would be able to identify problems that might come up in the field without having to go to full battle testing.
The attack on Spanos, horrific though it was, had only been a test. It had allowed the Karnaii to test out their new weapons, and it had allowed Vor'moch to test its new weapon. Somewhere nearby, Vor'moch was preparing another weapon to use against Salim Ru. The Latarran ships guarding Spanos would be tied up and unable to fend off either Vor'moch or the Karnaii follow-up.
Then she felt her sense of strength return. She knew what her mission was. Steel lined her spine and she rose.
"General Trame," she said icily, "I intend to do just that. I can assure you that ship will no longer present any sort of threat to Latarran security. I'll find that ship, and I'll stop it."
The general nodded. "Thank you, Captain Janeway," he said.
"I'll see to it that Voyager provides all the medical supplies we can spare before we leave," she added.
"Thank you," the general repeated. His eyes touched hers for a moment, cool and piercing. One warrior to another. "Good hunting, Captain."
