The impromptu party in Hegh'Ta's mess room over, Captain Mackenzie beamed back to Endeavour and went straight to his office. His head ached - pounded actually, but well aware of the lecture he would get, he had no intention of requesting a painkiller from sickbay. Romulan ale was potent stuff and it turned out, not completely to his surprise, that it didn't mix well with bloodwine. Even with the aid of the anti-inebriant that T'lia had given him, he was already starting to feel hung-over. Combined with the alcohol, the generous portions of various Klingon delicacies he had eaten sat uneasily in his stomach. At least it was quiet in his office, he thought thankfully. He could hide away in there for a while and get on with some work without any disturbances.
He'd been there for maybe an hour when his combadge chirped, sounding unnaturally loud in the silence. So much for peace and quiet, he thought resentfully as wincing, he touched the badge in acknowledgement.
"Captain, I thought you might like to know that Captain Royce has just regained consciousness" the Vulcan healer informed him, "He is asking to see you."
"Thank you T'lia, that's good to know," Captain Mackenzie said, perking up a little at the news. "I'll be down as soon as I can." He got up and leaving his office, headed towards the turbolift. Maybe while he was down in sickbay he could 'obtain' a painkiller without T'lia noticing, he thought optimistically. Come to that, the way his head felt right now, it would almost be worth the lecture, just to get some relief.
Returning to his ready room after his visit to sickbay, Captain Mackenzie reflected over his conversation with Christopher Royce. He was worried about his old friend. Physically he was making a good recovery but mentally… well that was a different matter. The loss of his ship and the deaths of so many of his crew had affected him badly and it was going to take a long time for him to get over it.
The story that Captain Royce recounted was one that tragically was becoming all too common since the beginning of this war. The USS Poseidon had been assigned to investigate a cats-eye nebula and the Jem'Hadar battle cruiser had appeared out of nowhere, all its weapons firing. The Poseidon was a science vessel, not a combat ship and it hadn't stood a chance. And when the nebula class ship hung lifeless and burning in space, they had boarded the ship, taking all the survivors as prisoners.
The worst of it was, a science vessel shouldn't even have been out there in a time of war without an escort, but Starfleet had needed the data from the nebula and no escort had been available. And so, the USS Poseidon had been sent. Captain Royce had protested but to no avail – a Nebula class ship was more than capable of defending itself in case of attack, Starfleet Command had insisted. Well they had been wrong.
"The shields went down," Captain Royce told him, his voice filled with horror as he relived the events of that terrible day. "They kept firing at us, over and over. There were fires everywhere, you could hear the ship groaning as it was torn apart. We had no weapons to fight back – tactical and propulsion systems were the first to go. Then they started appearing on the bridge, and all over the ship, just decloaking out of nowhere." His voice trailed off and he gave a convulsive shudder. "They started taking prisoners," he continued eventually, "All of us who were fit – the ones who were injured or not able to fight were just killed. So many died – I'll never forget the screaming or the smell of blood and fear."
"It wasn't your fault, Chris," Captain Mackenzie told his old friend gently, "There was nothing more you could have done."
"I was their Captain. They trusted me and now they're dead!" Captain Royce said painfully, "I had a hundred and eighty people on board – there are fifteen of us left!" He stopped again and after a few moments of silence, he asked for a drink of water.
Captain Mackenzie immediately got up and poured a glass from the carafe that was sitting on the side table. He handed it to the other captain who took a long drink before continuing his story. Fifty-six of the crew had survived to be taken prisoner. Crammed together into the tiny cells on the Jem'Hadar ship, the constant fights with the enemy soldiers, combined with poor food, and hygiene and a lack of medical facilities, had taken its toll. As days turned into weeks and weeks into months, the number of survivors had dwindled, until only a handful were left. By the time the Endeavour had found them, the remnants of the Poseidon's crew had totally given up any hope of survival, let alone rescue.
Captain Mackenzie knew he wasn't the only one worried about Chris Royce's welfare. Before leaving sickbay, he had had a long talk with T'lia, who was equally concerned.
The Vulcan healer believed that Captain Royce would need extensive counselling before he would be able to return to duty. There was, not surprisingly a deep anger in the captain, that had been evident in the way he had fought the Jem'Hadar after his escape from the prison cells. From all accounts, he had gone completely berserk and torn one of the Jem'Hadar to pieces with his bare hands.
If he hadn't seen it for himself, Captain Mackenzie would never have believed it of his old friend. Chris Royce had always been a little on the sensitive side. His captivity and the loss of his crew in such a brutal manner had left emotional scars that would take a very long time to heal – if they ever did.
As for the crew of the Poseidon, well on a temporary basis at least, those who were fit enough, would fill in some of the gaps in his crew. And there were a lot of gaps to fill in. Over the last year Captain Mackenzie had lost too many brave men and women to the enemy and Starfleet had been too hard pressed to offer him any replacements.
Of the senior officers, Elana Kal and Morgana Baker would be the easiest to deal with. Both of them would slot straight into the positions they were most accustomed to – security and communications respectively. Commander Ahmed however was a different matter. A highly experienced officer who was in fact overdue for promotion, he had been the first officer on board Poseidon. But Captain Mackenzie was no longer in the market for a first officer, he was more than happy with the one he already had and was hoping to persuade Starfleet Command to make the appointment permanent. After thinking about it for a while and reviewing the commander's personnel file, he decided to post him to the tactical station.
At least his headache had gone. When he entered sickbay to visit Captain Royce, T'lia had taken one look at him and had silently handed him a painkiller. The expected lecture had never happened and to be honest, Captain Mackenzie thought, it hadn't been necessary. The healer might be a Vulcan but she was very good at making her opinions and feelings known. The expression on her face had said it all - Serves you right!
Yawning, Mackenzie glanced at the time. It was still quite early in the evening but the events of the last few days were starting to catch up with him and he was finally starting to feel tired. He should really go back to his quarters, he decided. He could do with a shower, a bite to eat and a couple of hours sleep before relieving Major Speares for the night shift.
He was halfway across the bridge when the turbolift doors opened and the Klingon captain came storming onto the bridge, obviously in a very bad mood.
"I want to talk to you," Krang demanded without preamble. Glancing at the interested bridge officers who seeing his expression, quickly looked away and became very busy with their appointed tasks, he added, "In private."
Captain Mackenzie sighed. Whatever Krang wanted, he really didn't need it right now. "Very well," he said, resignedly, "In my ready room." Turning, he headed back to the room he had just vacated, and Krang followed him.
"What can I do for you?" he asked, as the doors shut behind them.
"Kehlan has requested a transfer back to the Hegh'Ta," Krang told the Federation captain starkly.
"What?" Captain Mackenzie stared at his Klingon friend in disbelief. "You're not joking, are you?"
Krang shook his head. "I would not joke about something like that," he said, "I received the request half an hour ago." He flung the padd down on the desk in front of the Terran captain. "Here, read it for yourself."
Captain Mackenzie said nothing, not quite taking it in. Kehlan wanted to leave the Endeavour? To leave him? The thought was unbearable. Slowly, he reached out and picked up the padd, reading the message it contained. "I have received no notification of this," he said finally.
"Just what is going on with you two?" Krang exploded, "First I get this ridiculous request, then I find out you've got her confined to quarters. What in Gre'thor's name are you playing at, James?"
"How I discipline my officers is not your concern."
That was true enough, Krang acknowledged, and in fairness to Mackenzie, Kehlan had disobeyed orders. A Klingon captain would have been within his rights to kill her for such a serious infraction even if it had been justified; sending her to her room was hardly an unfair or unjust punishment.
Krang would admit to having a soft spot for the young woman. She had been a close friend of his wife and his youngest daughter had been named for her. Kehlan was his last connection to his family and he was a little more protective of her than he should be. Right now, he had reason to be worried about her. Kehlan was strong and resilient. She'd had to be to survive growing up as a half-breed in a Klingon orphanage. She was not the type to run away from anything; her message asking to come home was out of character for her and coupled with the fact that she had been crying, it was a strong indication that something was very wrong.
While he had no definite proof, he had a good idea that she and Mackenzie were romantically involved, something that in itself he did not have a problem with. While he doubted Starfleet would approve, their anti-fraternisation policies did not concern him. But her distress did lead him to wonder if the Terran captain was treating her right? He bit back a growl. If Mackenzie had hurt her…
"Kehlan is still a Defence Force officer and is officially assigned to Hegh'Ta," Krang reminded the Terragnan captain, "I am currently Hegh'Ta's captain. That makes her my responsibility. Now give me one good reason why I should not accept her request."
"Because I need her here," Captain Mackenzie said simply. "Krang, she's done well on the Endeavour. She's a good officer and she'll go far in Starfleet if she's given the chance. Can you guarantee her the same opportunities in the Defence Force?"
Krang shook his head. "No, I can't," he answered regretfully, "She'll never progress past science officer in the Klingon fleet. But it's her choice to return, and I'll be honest with you James, we've lost a lot of crew. It's not as if we couldn't use the extra officer."
"I know," Captain Mackenzie sighed. Then an idea struck him. "Actually, I may have a solution to your crew problem."
Krang was immediately interested, "What have you got in mind?"
"I have several junior officers who speak Klingon," Mackenzie told him. "I think at least some of them would jump at the chance to gain some experience serving on a Klingon ship."
The Klingon considered that. "It would certainly strengthen the relationship between our two crews," he acknowledged. "Yes, I think it would work well."
"Good," Mackenzie said crisply, "I'll speak to them and get the transfers put into motion."
Krang nodded before asking. "Now, what do we do about Kehlan? I am concerned for her, James. When I spoke to her she seemed…" He paused, searching for the right word. "…unhappy."
"Give me some time to talk to her," the Terran said heavily. "If she can convince me she really wants to return to Hegh'Ta, I won't stand in her way."