Chapter Three

Captain Kem'Tok watched the Starfleet ships jump to warp. He turned his throne-like command chair so that he could see his tactical advisor, a man who nearly matched Kem'Tok's impressive girth, and thusly found it difficult to stand comfortably behind his console. The captain felt no sympathy for him. There was a time for a Klingon to grow fat, and that was when he had already amassed great honour, and now commanded warriors to do his fighting for him. The tactician had not reached that point in life yet, and Kem'Tok doubted that he ever would.

"Tactician. Explain their actions!"

Ragh spoke as he would to a child. He had never thought much of Kem'Tok's tactical sense, and made no effort to disguise how he felt. "Obviously, they have found a way to track their lost starship. They are going to recover it."

"What makes it so obvious?"

"Their course takes them away from Federation space; out of their explored region. They are flying at full warp. They would not be rushing into the unknown without purpose."

Kem'Tok disagreed. "They are Federation. They are fools! Who knows why they do what they do?"

"Those of us who understand tactics do."

The bridge crew were utterly silent. Such a direct challenge could not go unanswered. Kem'Tok hauled himself out of his chair, dagger in hand, and advanced on Ragh. The younger, ever-so-slightly lighter Klingon drew his blade in response. The rest of the bridge crew looked on, judging who was most likely to win this fight.

But it was not to be.

"Be thankful that you are still useful to me," hissed Kem'Tok. "But there will come a day when that is no longer true."

Ragh bit back whatever he might have wanted to say to that. He wasn't as confident about fighting the captain with knives as he was with words.

Kem'Tok dropped his massive girth back into his command chair, which groaned audibly beneath him. "Pursuit course. Keep us outside of their scanning range. We will let them lead us to the missing ships, and then we will take them back!"

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The Commissar looked out across the shipyard. A dozen starships of various different classes and designs sat in berths, flexible umbilicals providing engineers with easy access to the ships, and power conduits to run their systems – the starships' own internal power cores had been deactivated or removed so that they could be studied and duplicated. Impressive technology throughout those craft. Far in advance of anything the people of his world had developed on their own.

But why would they need to do their own research, develop their own technologies? There were plenty of races out there more than willing to do the hard work. All they had to do was take a few samples home, pull them apart, find out how they worked, and duplicate them. It was much easier than inventing the technology from scratch. Faster and cheaper, too.

Their latest acquisition held his attention at the moment. A beautiful piece of shipbuilding, he was impressed. It was a very different breed to the low-slung battle cruisers they had captured recently; this ship had a spherical forward section and a tubular engineering hull, above which a pair of glowing warp nacelles were held by pylons. The engineers had already been over every inch of the craft and found advanced sensor and shield technologies, as well as improved impulse and warp engines. The weapons weren't a patch on what they had dug out of other craft. Obviously these people weren't warriors. It would make it easier to keep hold of their captive ship, if they ever came looking for it.

A crewman approached, carrying a data slate. The Commissar caught his reflection in the windowpane and turned. He could see the report title on the data slate, and opened with a pre-emptive, "The prisoners?"

"The last group arrived at the detention facility."

"Good."

He accepted the slate and dismissed the crewman. None of the prisoners had had an 'accident' en route, he was pleased to see. They still might need those crewmen to help them understand the Daedalus technology. Until his people had stripped that ship of its secrets, their lives were valuable.

Central Command would be very pleased with his work, as soon as he handed them the Daedalus' secrets on a plate. Those sensor systems would improve their tracking network, allowing them to monitor their enemies more easily, and to find other treasures for the taking; with force fields wrapped around their ships, they would be able to stay in battle longer, and those enhanced warp drives would let their fleets reach further, faster. The Vyar Territories would grow and grow, unstoppably!

He was greatly displeased when a lieutenant spoilt this happy moment. "Sir. We have five ships on approach vector. Their designs are reminiscent of the Daedalus."

"Defensive alert. Launch the squadron. Drive those ships off."

"As you wish it, Commissar." The lieutenant bowed and went to relay the Commissar's orders.

The defence squadron would be able to hold off a small clutch of Daedalus-class ships. After all, the fighters were equipped with the very best weapon technologies the Vyar had gathered. The Daedalus ships would be outnumbered, outgunned, swarmed and destroyed.

He hoped that they might be able to capture one or more of the vessels. When you were experimenting on alien technology, it never hurt to have a few replacement parts, in case you broke something.