DISCLAIMER: Star Trek and all related characters are the property of Paramount Pictures, Inc and CBS-Paramount Television. No copyright infringement is intended. This work of fiction is for entertainment purposes only and no money has changed hands. The original characters and events are the sole property of the author and may not be used without permission.

STAR TREK:

THE CAVALIER INCIDENT

By Darrin Colbourne

Captain Koloth, Commanding Officer of the Imperial Klingon Ship Martok, drummed his fingers on the arm of his command chair and sighed as he regarded the incompetent sitting before him. "Pilot, exactly what part of the order 'No unnecessary course corrections' did you have trouble comprehending?"

The helmsman didn't dare turn to face him. He simply bowed his head and answered. "Forgive me, Sir, but when the Humans launched their tactical craft, I thought--"

"Aha!" Koloth broke in. "Now we get to the crux of the problem! You thought! You engaged that skull full of gakh you call a brain in an activity that it was obviously not designed for, and as a result, instead of going wherever it was supposed to go, the Human tactical craft is at our backs!" Koloth stood then, clasped his hands behind his back and started walking at a slow pace to the Flight Control station. As he approached, he continued his rebuke in a more even tone. "I admit, Pilot, that I expected the Humans to find us here eventually, but I am dismayed that one of my own officers seems so willing to do all their work for them."

"Forgive me, Sir. It won't happen again!" It was all the Pilot could say as he felt the captain come up behind him.

"I know it won't," Koloth said, "because I know what needs to happen now. You see, the problem with thinking is that doing it too much tends to make one, oh, jittery. You need to learn patience. Thirty days confinement with basic rations should be sufficient to teach the lesson."

"But, Sir…" The Pilot began. This time he was interrupted by his head being pulled back by the hair and the feel of a blade at his throat.

"Or," Koloth said, as he dug the edge of his dagger into his subordinates skin, "perhaps a simpler solution is in order…"

"No, Sir!" The Pilot gasped. "Thirty days confinement will be sufficient! I will learn my lesson, Sir!"

"I'll hold you to that." Koloth said, then released him. "Your instruction begins now. Master-At-Arms, take him away."

The massive Guardsman standing at the entrance to the control room stalked over to the Pilot and pulled him out of his chair, then half-dragged him out of the room. Koloth sheathed his dagger and returned to the command chair as a relief pilot took over the helm. When he was settled, Koloth's gaze fixed on the main viewscreen. The Enterprise was dead center in the view, pointed right at him.

"Sir," another officer called out, "the Humans are hailing us."

"Of course." Koloth grumbled. "They want to talk." He hated talking with Humans, for aesthetic reasons more than anything else. Doing it required that he use their common language, English, an overly-ordered, passionless dialect that lacked the art and fire of Proper Klingon. The problem was that he'd never met a Human that could speak Proper Klingon without embarrassing himself, so Koloth simply found it easier - and less grating - to deal with them on their own terms. "Very Well. Ship-to-Ship, on the viewer."

"They're answering hail." The Communications Officer said. "Requesting ship-to-ship on audio and video."

"On the screen." Pike said, nodding toward the main viewer. A moment later, the image of the Klingon ship's broadside was replaced with a head-and-shoulders shot of a swarthy, muscular man with long, black hair and an overgrown goatee and eyebrows. The lighting on the Klingon bridge lent the man a sinister air, but Pike knew from experience that this was psychological warfare on the Klingons' part, a tactic they'd adopted when they learned of their Human adversaries' almost habitual desire to see their enemies face-to-face. "Better to intimidate your opponent right from the start," was the philosophy behind it.

The Klingon recognized Pike from numerous intelligence briefings. "Captain Christopher Pike." He said with a smile that bared large canines. "A pleasure to meet you at last."

Pike had similar intelligence on his opponent. "Captain Koloth." He said, with a broad, phony smile of his own. "Likewise, I'm sure. However, I am rather surprised to meet you in this neck of the woods. Are you lost? Can I give you some help getting back to Imperial space?"

"I'm shocked by your tone, Captain Pike. Is uncharted space not free for the transit of all ships? Have I not as much right to be here as you? Or, have you claimed this system in the name of your vaunted United Earth?"

"We've staked no claim here, Koloth. We're on a survey mission, as I'm sure you know."

"Yes, of course. So you are, and that is actually why I'm here, Pike."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. You see, our scientists have evaluated your assignment and have concluded that such a grand undertaking is simply too ambitious for such a small collection of ships - even ones as capable as Constitution-class ships - and it was on the basis of their report that our Glorious Emperor dispatched my ship and several others to observe your ships during the course of the mission and to…lend assistance should the need arise - all in the interest of our continued peaceful co-existence, of course."

"Of course." Pike said. "Well, allow me to express my gratitude - and that of my people - for the Emperor's generosity, but I feel I must warn you: Our experiences at the start of the mission were a stark reminder of the unknown dangers our survey might force us to confront, and I wouldn't want the Klingon Armada's finest ships to take on any unnecessary risk."

Koloth's smile grew wider. "Oh…I wouldn't worry about our ships, Pike." He glanced away for a moment to give someone an order in Klingon, then turned back and waited patiently.

"Captain!" The Sensor Officer called out. "New contact, aft quarter, high! Range 1.4 light-seconds and closing! ID as Klingon Raptor! She just appeared out of nowhere, Sir!"

Pike turned to the repeater over the Sensor station. The Raptor was a one-man version of the Klingon Bird-Of-Prey frigate. The smaller vessel was usually deployed as a tactical support craft aboard the Kahless cruisers. This one must have approached the Enterprise by stealth and decloaked on Koloth's cue. From what Pike could see there were two anti-shipping torpedoes slung under the Raptor's wings, and for those weapons, a little over a light-second was point-blank range.

Koloth's next words drew Pike's attention back to the main screen. "As you can see, Pike, we are quite capable of taking care of ourselves."

Pike's mouth twisted up for a split-second, then he forced the phony smile back on his face. "So I see." He said.

"Good! It is settled, then. We will survey this world together!"

"I look forward to it."

"Now, there is just one more thing that concerns me: having our tactical craft deployed as they currently are might well lead to an unfortunate mishap. I would suggest we do something about that."

Pike regarded the screen for a second, then glanced at the Communicator. "Have Rider One return to station." He said quietly.

The Communicator nodded, then radioed to Silas: "Rider One, Prize. Stand down and return to station, over." A pause, then: "Rider One copies."

Pike turned back to the screen. Someone off-screen reported something to Koloth, who gave another order in Klingon. A few seconds after he turned back to Pike, the Sensor Officer reported: "Captain, the Raptor is breaking off and turning away. Looks like he's returning to base."

Koloth offered one last broad smile. "Now that that's settled, Captain Pike, I will let you get back to your survey. Koloth out." The screen reverted to the view of the Martok as the Klingons signed off.

There were a few moments of silence in Control, then Goren blurted out: "Well. That was all kinds of fun." He'd been glaring wide-eyed at the main viewer the whole time.

"Just business as usual, Lieutenant," Pike said, "in this era of peace. Fire Control, I want a constantly-updated firing solution set up on our Klingon 'observers.' Communicator, have Flight Ops arm Rider Two with Mark-18s and bring it up to Alert-5 status…just in case."

Similar preparations were being made in Martok's Control Room. After the Tactical and Attack Ship Bay officers acknowledged Koloth's orders, his First Officer, Commander Jhang, approached him. "If this is truly an illegal expansion," he said, "the Earthers will go to great lengths to maintain their cover."

"I would expect nothing less." Koloth said. "Go meet SubCommander Toro when he comes aboard. Bring him to my quarters."

"You have a mission for him?"

"Two, actually. First, while Pilot Khan is incarcerated it will be up to Toro to tutor him on the proper way to navigate a cloaked vessel in the vicinity of the enemy. The other mission I wish to discuss with both of you in detail."

"See? I told you we'd be going right back." Silas said as she steered the Cavalier back toward Shiva Three.

Montoya barely heard her. The Science Officer's attention was on the view in one of the old-fashioned rearview mirrors built into the canopy. She watched in awe as the Klingon ship receded in the distance. "Why are they even here?" She wondered aloud.

"Business as usual." Silas said. "They shadow our ships, we shadow theirs. They goose us, we goose them. It's how both sides keep in practice. I do wonder how they knew where to look for us, though. Once we warped out of the Solar System our route would have been anybody's guess."

Montoya turned her attention forward as she answered. "That's probably our fault."

"Our fault?"

"I mean the Space Probe Agency."

"The Space Probe Agency gave our itinerary to the Klingons?"

"Not directly…have you ever visited the UESPA's WorldNet site?"

"No. What's there?"

"Almost anything you'd want to know about the Common Man Project, including the initial list of worlds the ships of our squadron are visiting. It doesn't say which ships are going to which worlds, but all the planets that could be observed from Earth are there, and the data that accompanies them is updated as the agency receives our reports."

"So all the Klingons would have to do is visit the site, look over the list and pick a planet?"

"Well, if they wanted to ambush us, I suppose they could simply go to a planet whose data hasn't been updated yet and wait."

There was silence in the cockpit for about five seconds, then Silas chuckled. "Man. You people know jack about mission security!"

"Brigid, it's a public relations tool. You know, 'Have your kids follow the progress of Project: Away', 'Use it as a teaching tool in your class', that sort of thing. Besides, this mission isn't supposed to be a secret."

"No, but it ought to be secure, don't you think? You've got a lot to learn, Smart Girl."

"But it's a scientific mission! There's no reason for the Klingons to want to ambush us. It's the last thing any of us would have expected."

"And yet, here they are. The enemy rarely does what you expect him to do. That's your first lesson."

"They're not our enemy." Montoya said feebly.

"Just because they're not currently shooting at us doesn't mean they're not our enemy. That's your next lesson."

Montoya decided that she could only dig a deeper hole for her agency the more she tried to defend it, so they continued on to the planet in silence. Silas preferred it that way. As good a pilot as she was, she didn't want to risk being distracted when she entered the planet's atmosphere. She pulled into low orbit and bled off speed, shifting her orbital inclination as she went. When she was nearly skirting the equator and sure she would end up over the right point, she angled the Cavalier's nose up and slowed for re-entry.

"Here comes the fun part, Isabel." Silas said. "Hang on."

Montoya grabbed on to the straps of her restraints and held tight, preparing herself for what had to be the worst elevator ride ever created by Man. Even miracle technologies like grav-plating and inertial dampers operating at full power couldn't completely cancel out the effects of descent. The Cavalier's inertia-canceling systems only operated in a limited fashion, just enough to protect the crews during high sub-light combat maneuvers. During descent they weren't used at all, so suddenly more than two centuries of scientific advance were rendered meaningless as the ship slammed into the thickening air, rattling its passengers like an old-style space capsule. Montoya stared wide-eyed out of the canopy as the air ionized around them, casting the cockpit in a fiery red-orange glow. She prayed silently that the transparent material above their heads would survive the trip, even though she knew intellectually that the belly of the Cavalier was bearing the brunt of re-entry friction.

It was the longest four minutes of Montoya's life, but they emerged into clear air without incident. "Prize, Rider One is Feet Hot and on station, over." Silas told Enterprise.

"Roger, Rider One." Enterprise said. "Copy you're on station and you may commence Away mission. Prize out."

Silas and Montoya were now on their own. "What would you like to see first?" Silas asked.

Montoya looked around. They were descending slowly through sparse cloud cover and headed toward the widest part of an isthmus that connected Shiva Three's two largest continents. "This area is as good as any to start." She said. "Let's go down and see the local landscape, then we can head East over the ocean. If we're lucky we might catch a glimpse of some of the larger sea life."

"You got it." Silas said, then she snap-rolled the Cavalier 180 degrees and angled the nose toward the surface. Montoya screamed as the ship plunged downward at a lightning pace. The descent only took a few seconds, and just when Montoya thought they would slam into the dense foliage rising to meet them, Silas rolled the ship again and leveled off, slowing to a steady hover.

"Okay, now you're just showing off!" Montoya yelled after she caught her breath.

Silas giggled behind her breath mask. "Yes, I am!" She said. "You all right back there?"

"I'll let you know when my stomach catches up with me!"

"Okay, but while we're waiting, why don't you take a look around?"

Montoya looked outside. They were hovering barely a dozen meters above the treeline of a forest that stretched out to the horizon in every direction. Several of the individual trees looked large enough to swallow the smallcraft whole by themselves, making the whole forest a forbidding No-Man's-Land. Montoya knew from the Enterprise's preliminary scans that below the forest canopy was mostly impassable marshland…impassable for Human Beings, at least. Unfortunately, the Common Man Project had been launched before the Space Probe Agency had been able to acquire a dedicated robotic lander. "How much data can you gather using the Cavalier's systems?"

"Not much. With the passive systems on I can use the camera to get standard and low-light pictures and the infra-red sights on the See-Saws to get thermal images. That's about it."

"What if I turn on the active sensors? Would that help?"

A pause. "It might…but, Isabel, there's a reason why they build these things for two people."

"So that someone else can operate the sensors and let you concentrate on flying?"

"That would be the reason."

"Sorry. The optical images will be fine."

Silas didn't like Montoya's resigned tone. She hadn't meant to completely discourage her. "Look, I know you want to be on-hand for the surface survey…"

"And I want Wendy to see it close-up as well."

"Well, my crews and I can show you two how to work the sensors for yourselves."

"You're sure that won't be too much trouble?"

"We don't have to teach you how to use them in combat. You just need to know enough to get proper scans of the surface. We can show you that pretty quickly."

"Then let's take care of that when we get back." Montoya sounded relieved.

"No problem." Silas said, satisfied. "I'm going to see if I can find a clearing around here where we can get low and take some decent images of the ground." She gave the ship some altitude and started a wide turn over the forest.

Commander McDonald entered the Control Room from the starboard passage and went straight over to the center chair. "You wanted to see me…" She began. The view on the main screen rendered her speechless.

Pike looked over to her. "Good. You're here. Let's talk in my Ready Room." He turned to the Engineering Section. "John, you too." He called out to Commander Adams, then the three of them made their way to the Captain's Ready Room. Just before they went in Pike turned to the helmsman. "Tyler, you have the conn."

"Aye, Sir. I have the conn." Lieutenant Joseph Tyler acknowledged.

In the Ready Room Pike sat down on the cot, McDonald leaned on the table and Adams leaned against a bulkhead. They waited until the door was fully closed before they began their discussion. "That's a Kahless cruiser, isn't it?" McDonald said, jerking her thumb in the direction of the main screen.

"Yes, it is," Pike said, "so I thought we'd start by letting you get your I-toldja-sos out of the way." He smiled and Adams smiled, and McDonald just shook her head before she launched.

"Well, I did tell you so! This mission was laid on too fast! There was no real preparation past adding some extraneous equipment and quarters before sending us hither and yon, and now we're sharing an orbit with the Opposition and we're saddled with a totally green Second Officer and a passel of officers and crewmen that are just as likely to wet themselves at the sight of a Klingon warship as offer any real support against them if the shooting starts."

"They're not all that green. Lieutenant Goren was right there when we found the Klingons and I didn't notice any major signs of panic coming from him."

"Leftenant Goren has the dubious honor of being the most experienced of the lot. He's at least gone through Basic Training. We should put them all through it."

"Put them through it where?" Adams said, incredulous. "Last time I checked this ship was real short on parade grounds and Drill Instructors."

"Major Song's Gunnery Sergeant is a certified D.I. He's just transferred to the Fleet Lander Force from Camp Pace. As for training space, it's simply a matter of using what space we do have judiciously. We're only talking about a company of 24 people."

"And we're talking about taking those 24 people out of the loop and turning the ship upside down for two months so that we can show them how to march in a straight line, salute properly and point a rifle in the right direction. There's nothing 'simple' about that."

"I don't think we need to do anything that drastic," Pike said, "but we ought to run some serious combat drills to get the Science Department's Control Room officers up to speed on our anti-ship doctrine. If there's anything from Basic that they need to learn it's Unarmed Combat and Small Arms Proficiency."

"You think we'll need to take on the Klingons man-to-man?" Adams asked.

"I'm not expecting a full-scale infantry battle, but it's always possible that they can find a way to board us, so the researchers might as well have the same chance to defend themselves that everyone else aboard has."

"I still say they should go through Basic," McDonald muttered, "or they should at least have gone through it before we left spacedock."

"Maybe, but our departure schedule didn't allow for that. I don't pretend to know how Jellico's mind works, but I'm guessing that he expects us to do the best we can with what we have, no matter what situation arises, so if our science people need to learn how to fight, it's our job to show them how."

"You mean it's my job." McDonald said. Pike smiled at her again and nodded. "Very Well. I'll slate the Science Department for firearms and unarmed combat training and work up some anti-ship combat scenarios."

"Good. And John, I want your department doing the usual analysis. Pull the specs on the Kahless class from the intelligence database and go over it with a fine-toothed comb."

"List all the weaknesses we know of and see if we can find anything everybody else missed?" Adams said. Pike nodded. "You got it."

Satisfied, Pike ended the meeting by standing up and heading out of the Ready Room. Adams and McDonald were a step behind him. The two men resumed their stations in Control while Number One went to work out a training schedule and prepare for her watch. "I have the conn." Pike announced.

"Cap'n has the conn." Tyler called out from the helm.

Pike was barely settled into the center seat when the Sensor Officer made another report. "New contact. Martok is launching a Raptor."

Pike turned to the station. "Where's it headed?"

It wasn't much of a clearing, but Silas did find an area where tree growth was sparse enough to allow the Cavalier to descend below the canopy. She dropped low enough to get good images of the tree trunks, which were a sickly-looking brownish-green. The forest floor was covered with over-sized, black flowers with stamens that reached up into the sky and petals that closed up as the heat of the Cavalier's sub-light engines reached the ground. The small amount of grass that could be seen would have been chest-high on a Human walking through it, if a Human could make his way through the muddy quicksand the grass and flowers were growing in. Montoya looked on intently as Silas recorded the area in as much detail as possible.

"Rider One, Prize." They heard. "Be advised, we are tracking a Raptor - designate Bandit One - approaching your station."

"Copy that, Prize." Silas radioed back. "ETA?"

"Estimate Bandit One will be Feet Hot in six minutes, twenty-three seconds and will be at Angels 20 and 2.7 miles Northeast of your position."

"Copy that. Request instructions."

"You are to maintain Weapons Tight and continue Away mission, over."

"Roger. Maintain Weapons Tight and continue mission. Rider One out."

Montoya listened to the whole conversation with dread. "What do we do?"

"Well," Silas said, "if he gets close enough we can wave at him nicely through the cockpit glass, but other than that, nothing. 'Weapons Tight' means he has to shoot first."

"Do you think that's what he's coming to do?"

"No. It's like I said before. They shadow us, we shadow them. His boss probably just wants a close-up look at what we're doing."

"How sure are you?"

"As sure as I can be. I can't read their minds. It all boils down to whether or not the Klingons feel like restarting the war today, and I'm guessing that if that's what they wanted all they had to do was blast Enterprise while they were still running cloaked. This is an intelligence-gathering mission for them, and since our mission isn't supposed to be a secret we're just going to let them see what they want."

"Well…do we have to sit here and wait until he shows up?"

"Nope! We don't have to do that. You said you wanted to head East over the ocean?"

Montoya consulted her datapad. "Actually, from where we are now it's more Southeast. When we scanned from orbit we spotted some very large shapes that might be aquatic life-forms. I can direct you using the images I have saved on my computer."

"Then let's see some fish." Silas gained altitude vertically, pointed the ship Southeast and sped off over the forest.

"They're more like whales." Montoya said as she watched the forest canopy blur past under them.

"What?" Silas said.

"Whales, not fish. When she saw the shadows we picked up Wendy said they looked like they had flukes."

"Okay, whales. How big are we talking?"

"The biggest ones look to be about four hundred feet."

"Dang! Do whales get that big?"

"They can if they have the run of the planet. Shiva Three is close to ninety percent water. What land mass it has is saturated with the stuff. If there's lots of other things for them to eat in the oceans, and if they have no natural predators, there's no reason why they can't be the dominant lifeform in several ways, size included."

"Okay. You realize, of course, that the optical systems won't see much underwater…"

"True, but if Wendy's right about them being whales then they'll have to come up for air some time. We didn't see it happen while we were observing from orbit, but I'm hoping we'll see it from here if we stay around them long enough."

"Hoping we'll get lucky?"

"It's about patience, not luck. We'll keep looking until we see it happen. If it doesn't happen we'll just go on to the next theory."

"Which would be?"

"Probably that they're creatures that look like whales, but breathe like something else."

"Is that possible?"

Montoya smiled. "If you'd asked me that two months ago I wouldn't have thought so. I have a new philosophy: If we see it with our own eyes, it's possible."

"Might have to dissect one to be sure."

Montoya's smile faded. "I don't want it to come to that. We'd never fit one of the big ones on one of Dr. Boyce's examining tables or on Wendy's dissection table, which means we'd have take one of the babies. I'm not ready to make that call yet."

"And if we see one of them spouting, you don't have to…at least not immediately."

"Right. Even though there are bound to be some biological differences due to their surroundings, Shivan whales ought to have several things in common with Earth whales, so observing how they interact with each other and the environment in general will take precedence over seeing what they're made of."

A pause, then Silas said, "So, we're rooting for whales spouting. I can do that."

Minutes later, the Klingon Raptor broke into clear air and SubCommander Toro reported back to Martok. "This is Batleth. I am inside and awaiting vector."

The cruiser's response was immediate. "Acknowledged. Prey is heading One-Zero-Five at 820 kramm and at 9,000 kelikams. Turn to One-Six-Seven and close at 10,000 kelikams."

"Engage cloak?"

"Negative. Engage Prey as practice target. Weapons and Countermeasures on hold."

"Acknowledged." Toro smiled as he closed the circuit. Asking about his cloaking device was only a formality. Koloth had been perfectly clear in his briefing: Keep the Earthers' tactical craft under surveillance at all times, and make sure its crew knew he was watching. Similar orders would be given to the Martok's other tactical pilots, so that surveillance could be maintained round-the-clock. Koloth believed the constant pressure of being watched by their enemies would force the Humans to make a mistake and reveal their true agenda. Toro didn't know if it would work and didn't care. He simply enjoyed matching wits with his counterparts in Starfleet's Tactical Support Wings. This was mostly entertainment for him, and he intended to make the most of it.

A loud beeping sounded in Montoya's ear. "What's that?" She asked.

Silas huffed. "Scan warning. Our Klingon friend is saying 'Hi'. He's probably above us. See if you can see him from back there."

Montoya craned her neck and looked all around the sky above the Cavalier. She finally spotted the Raptor directly above them, silhouetted in the bright sunlight. "I see him! He's keeping pace with us!"

"That makes sense. Mr. Klingon is using us for target practice."

"And you're sure he won't really attack us?"

"I'm positive now. If he really wanted to shoot us down he'd be cloaked and riding our blind spot."

"Cloaked and in our blind spot? Isn't that redundant?"

"Only if you assume the cloak would never fail you at a crucial moment. A lot of Klingon pilots have died making that assumption."

"I'm still hearing that beeping."

"He's still scanning us. Sit back." Silas gave Montoya a few seconds to prepare, then rolled right, then hard left, then leveled. A second later the beeping stopped. "He was waiting for us to acknowledge the kill." She said.

Montoya looked up again just in time to spot the Raptor descending rapidly. It stopped when it was at the same altitude and ahead of the Cavalier, then the Klingon slowed until his ship was right next to theirs on their starboard side. He was flying close enough for them to see him silhouetted in the Raptor's tinted cockpit canopy. When he was sure they were looking, he offered them a jaunty wave.

Silas sighed. "Wave at the nice stupid Klingon, Isabel." She said as she returned the gesture. It took a second for Montoya's brain to process what was happening, then she joined in. When they were done exchanging pleasantries the Klingon dropped back to the "wingman" position at the Cavalier's Four O'Clock.

Montoya saw this through the rearview mirror on the starboard side of the canopy. "He's going to stay with us?"

"Well, now he's just showing off." Silas said. "'Look, ma! I can fly in formation too!' Ignore him. Let's get back to work."

Montoya just shook her head and decided to concentrate on things that made sense to her. She consulted her datapad. "We should still be on track." She circled an area on the screen with a stylus. "I want to search an area with a radius of about five miles, something like this." She reached over the back of Silas's chair to hand her the 'pad.

Silas touched the autopilot contact, reached back for the computer and checked the map displayed there against her inertial navigation map. "Okay. We'll conduct the search at 500 feet and in an outward spiral pattern." She handed the 'pad back to Montoya and took the controls again. "It's going to be slow-going. We're essentially tracking these things by eye."

"Like I said before, patience." Montoya sat back and relaxed, taking a second to glance in the mirror again. They should have all the time they needed, unless the Klingons complicated matters, but how could they do that without violating a decade-old cease-fire?

It took another half-hour of travel to reach the search area. Silas dropped to five hundred feet and slowed to 150 knots as she entered the search pattern. Toro stayed right in formation, though it was difficult. It was at the extreme low end of the Raptor's atmospheric flight envelope.

It was now a waiting game, with the Humans conducting one of their normal surface searches and Toro waiting to find out what they were looking for. He was mildly curious. Were they looking for some sign of civilization that wasn't obvious from orbit, like an undersea habitat perhaps? Was it some kind of weapon they sought, or some new, untapped natural resource? Toro didn't believe the Humans' official line about the Common Man Project any more than his superiors did, but sending a fleet of ships blundering all over the galaxy didn't seem like a very effective way to gain any kind of strategic advantage over one's enemies. In fact, it seemed like a very good way to lose a number of useful ships to all manner of misadventures, a circumstance that a smart enemy would find a way to exploit. There had to be more to it, but ultimately Toro wasn't getting paid to read the Humans' minds, so he decided to be patient and simply watch. If their objectives became clear while he was doing so, that would just be the Humans' problem, wouldn't it?

Meanwhile, Silas and Montoya passed the time with intermittent small talk while keeping their eyes peeled and the Cavalier's optics searching for shadows just below the surface of the ocean. They traded anecdotes about their respective hometowns, families and alma maters, but mostly scanned the ocean, waiting for a sign of their quarry.

Silas spotted it first. "I think I see something. Off to port."

Montoya looked that way. "Are you sure?"

"Hang on." Silas slowed the ship down to fifty knots and dropped to almost wave-top level before heading off toward what she thought was a large shadow. The sudden change in her flight profile also had the advantage of forcing the Klingon to make a choice. The Raptor could only fly so low and so slow in the air before it stalled, and it was less maneuverable in a hover than the Cavalier, so its pilot would either need to gain altitude and speed or stand off, but either way he'd be off her wing. Silas smiled as she glimpsed the Raptor speeding off on her right. Just reminding you that there's a few things I can do that you can't, she thought at his retreating exhaust, then she sped up. They only had to skim the waves for a few seconds before they passed over something interesting.

"Stop!" Montoya called out. Silas slowed to a relative crawl and came about, then coasted back a bit, coming to a hover over a long shadow in the water. It was headed Northeast as it passed and was roughly cigar-shaped. Silas slipped right and then came alongside, getting into a flanking position on the object's beam.

"The thing's at least four hundred feet long!" Silas said as they watched it chug along. Montoya didn't have a chance to respond, as a second later it sank from their view. Silas slowed to hover again, and both women scanned the surrounding water, trying to get another glimpse at the lifeform.

They got that glimpse just a few seconds before the lifeform emerged from the water with a splash that threatened to swamp the Cavalier. Silas sideslipped again and gained altitude, giving them a close-up view of a massive leviathan. Its body was long and tapered, colored black above and white below, and had the general shape of an outsized blue whale, complete with a powerful fluke at the end. It seemed too large to make such an astonishing leap, but it cleared the surface of the water by about twenty feet before nosing back in, spraying a jet of water from its spout just before its head was submerged.

"Yes!" Montoya cheered, grinning as the whale's body disappeared beneath the waves.

"Looks like Wendy was…" Silas was interrupted by the sight of another giant whale emerging a hundred meters or so to the North. It cleared the water the same way the first one had, took a breath and went back in. The surface was calm for a few seconds after that, then more shadows appeared under them in a cluster stretching Southwest to Northeast, and the shadows ranged in size from twenty feet to more than four hundred. Silas and Montoya watched in awe as these whales broached the surface in turn - more sedately than the first two - and caught breaths of their own.

"There's a whole school of them down there!" Silas said.

"'Pod.'" Montoya corrected.

"What?" Silas said.

"Whales travel in pods. Fish travel in schools."

"Pods, schools…there's a bunch of 'em down there, right?"

Montoya chuckled. "Yes, there are! It's beautiful! We are recording this, aren't we?"

"Absolutely. I'm going to transit over the length of the pod and try and get as much detail as possible before they submerge again." With that, Silas turned Northeast and headed slowly toward where the second whale emerged.

And circling above the entire scene, Toro watched the event in utter confusion. That can't be what they're looking for, he thought. Don't they already have those on Earth?