Disclaimer: Paramount Studios and the estate of Gene Roddenberry own copyright of all things Star Trek. The original plot is my own as are any characters created specifically for this story.
Presently the door to the ready room slid open, and Riker's head snapped across. Only Troi emerged. His expression asked the question silently. She smiled, 'Relax Will', and he breathed out slowly. Obviously the problem had been solved. As he glanced sideways at her he heard a second opening of the door and glanced slowly over. Thankfully it was Picard. He seemed his normal self, composed and in control of his emotions.
Riker stood and slipped out of the command chair, dropping into his usual chair, to the right. He smiled in greeting as Picard approached and dropped heavily into his chair. He crossed his legs purposefully and pursed his lips briefly in thought. Then decided, 'Bridge to Main Engineering.' The reply was swift in coming, 'Engineering, LaForge here!' He paused, 'Mr. LaForge, how long would you require for your diagnostic sweep?' It was LaForge's turn to pause, 'Er, give me ten minutes sir.' The response was swift 'You have them. Go to it Mr. LaForge.' The 'Thanks' from LaForge was left unsaid. But understood all the same.
Picard turned to his right, 'Well Number One, what now?' Riker looked a bit nonplussed. He checked his panel then inquired, 'Anything on long-range sensors Data?' The android keyed the request into his controls before delivering a negative response. 'Worf?' Implying the same request. However Worf's reply was a little different. He looked momentarily puzzled, then commented, 'I am reading a subspace distortion approximately six point two light years away. It is not stationary however. It appears to be following a course approximate to the suggestion of the Cardassians' course', he ventured a suggestion, 'It could be a ship travelling under cloak.' Neither Riker nor Picard were pleased with this idea. Picard was first to react. He turned to the Tactical station at the rear. 'Hail the Heghta. Give Kurn the telemetry and ask for their opinion.' Worf nodded, entering the command sequence required. The response did not take long. 'Sir we are being hailed by the Heghta.' Picard turned forward commanding, 'on screen.' The blank screen filled with the scene aboard the bridge of the Klingon cruiser. Dark and forbidding. Clearly far more a combat vessel than the Enterprise. Not a single surface was superfluous to the function of battle. Dominating the centre was the command chair filled with the bulk of Kurn.
'Captain Picard', his voice grated, 'Congratulations. The prey is in sight. All that is required now is to bait the trap. Are you prepared?' Picard tapped his communicator, 'Bridge to Engineering..' Anticipating his request, LaForge's reply was swift almost - but not quite - cutting him off. 'Aye sir. Ready at your request Captain.' Picard nodded his agreement to Kurn. The screen darkened to black. 'Now Mr. LaForge, if you please.'
To an outside viewer, the view resembled the extinguishing of the lights on a Christmas tree. All around the ship lights and windows darkened. The ramscoops ceased their red glow, the warp nacelles lost their blue sheen as all matter/antimatter operations failed. The vessel took on a marked tilt as the inertial dampers were disengaged. To all intents and purposes the Enterprise was dead in space. Unable to move, powerless and defenceless. A perfect target for a renegade. Helpless and derelict. Hopefully. Around the Enterprise Kurn's squadron formed into a protective globe. Their forms steadied in position, then shimmered in space as their cloaks were engaged. Soon all that was left was the Enterprise. Aboard all ships the crews settled into their duty posts to await the arrival of the Cardassians.
'Five million kilometres..', intoned Worf, 'Four million.. Three million.. Two million.. Sir', a note of urgency crept into his voice, 'another vessel is entering the system. It is a Ferengi Marauder. Heading..', he growled in annoyance, 'This way!' Riker stroked his beard with one hand slowly, then groaned aloud, 'Oh no, not the Ferengi Salvage Code! Not again! Not now!' Jean-Luc sighed in exasperation querying, 'How long till the suspected vessel enters the trap?' Worf glanced at his readouts, responding, 'One minute twenty-five seconds sir.' Picard swallowed, 'And until the Ferengi are in range?' Worf scowled at his displays before replying, 'One minute, and twenty seconds sir!' Riker cursed, 'Damn, we're not going to make it!' Picard glanced at his first officer. He had the nasty feeling that Will was right. But they had to at least make the attempt. He made his decision. 'We wait.' Adding in his thoughts, 'I just hope Kurn makes the same choice!' Knowing that if the Klingon forces acted precipitously that all would be lost. He began to feel the tension growing in his neck and back.
The atmosphere charged once more the bridge waited with bated breath for the count being enunciated by Worf to reach zero. Finally, after what seemed eons it came, and with the pronouncement attention reverted to Picard. He said nothing, preferring to wait until the intentions of both Threat vessels were clear. They did not have long to wait. Data's urgent voice came almost synchronized with Worf's curse. 'Sir I am detecting transporter signatures from the Ferengi vessel. We are being boarded!' The intruder alert sounded as Riker swore vehemently commanding, 'Oh no we're not! Shields up, Red Alert! All hands to General Quarters!' Picard grimaced, inquiring, 'Mr. Worf dispatch a security detail to locate and detain any Ferengi who were able to board', as Worf complied he queried, 'Where are the Cardassians now?' Worf replied, '600,000 kilometres away. Kurn is waiting, hoping they will venture closer. They will not. Their progress has slowed, they are stopping.' He paused, continuing, 'Ah, Kurn has reached the same conclusion. His forces are decloaking and re-deploying to blockade the renegade. They are moving in to the attack. The rogue is moving to the flank. They are weak there. He will break through.'
'Not if I can help it. Helm lay in a course to intercept, full impulse. Mr. Worf, prepare a full spread of photon torpedoes, maximum yield.' Picard spoke determinedly continuing softly, 'but I hope we won't have to use them.' As he spoke a flare erupted on the viewscreen in front of them. They blinked rapidly, Picard ordering, 'Report!' Worf growled angrily. 'They have de-cloaked sir and fired on Kurn's forces. One of his ships has been destroyed.' He gazed into the viewscreen, intoning, 'batlh Daqawlu'taH'. You will be remembered with honour! Riker turned to Picard commenting, 'Time to remove the gloves, Captain?' Picard responded regretfully, 'Agreed Number One. Mr. Worf, return fire at will.' Worf's finger - ready and waiting - jabbed down viciously on the launch control. A bright group of a half dozen orange balls erupted from the Enterprise launch bays. Quickly followed by two more matching sets. They sped swiftly towards their target. Meanwhile Picard's mind turned to the defensive, 'Helm attack pattern Delta. Execute Full Impulse. Engage.'
As Picard's commands were followed more unwelcome news was forthcoming from Worf. 'Sir the renegade has engaged cloak. They have broken through the blockade. Kurn's forces are pursuing.' Picard swore, 'Damn. Lay in an intercept course. Maximum warp. Engage!' The Enterprise leapt forward streaking like a bullet after their prey. It soon became obvious that they were unlikely to succeed. The rogue's lead was too great. An unexpected element introduced itself however. Under cloak the rogue was unable to engage its shield. It began to take hits from the closest of its pursuers. It slowed.
Macet swore. 'No Evek, we cannot afford this!' His opponent rounded furiously on him replying, 'What would you prefer? To die while running with our tails between our legs? I will not allow that!' The response was pounced on. 'You will not allow that? Who are you to make demands? I am Gul Macet, commander of the Second Order. You are only Fourth Order and as such..' Evek cursed violently, 'Enough, it will be done! Helm set course for the lead Klingon. Tactical, prepare to disengage cloak.' By now incoherent with rage Macet bellowed furiously, 'Belay those orders! Nobody does anything unless I say so!' The words cut through the heightening tension. Silence reigned supreme.
All attention turned to Terek on the helm. He began to feel the beads of sweat gather on his forehead. His next move decided all their fates, most especially his. If he obeyed Macet then any future dealings with Evek would be forfeit. If however he obeyed Evek, not only would he be defying a very powerful and influential Gul; he would also be signing all their death warrants. He had no illusions about their life expectancy against a full squadron of Vor'cha attack cruisers and a fully operational Sovereign class starship with an elite - very experienced and battle hardened - Federation crew. Very carefully, slowly he dropped his hands to his sides. Macet breathed out slowly, 'Excellent! Now, set course for the Enterprise, full impulse. Engage!' Stunned Terek faltered at the controls, before complying with the order. Evek jerked his head sharply in the direction of the ready room. Understanding his intent Macet shook his head, no. Now was not the time for that discussion.
'Qutvatlh!' The expletive burst from Kurn's lips 'Ah.. Qagh'a'' A big mistake! He turned in his seat, inquiring, 'nuHotlhpu'a'?' Have they scanned us? He smiled wolfishly displaying his teeth at the reply, 'ghobe'!', and commanded, 'nughoStaH, yIghoStaH. Cha yIghuS! yIjuntaH' Intercept them, fire torpedoes...! Evasive action! His voice took on a confused tone. The rogue had swept by, completely ignoring his actions. It headed in apparent suicide straight for the Enterprise, 'Qi'yah! ghuycha! baH, baH! nom.' Cursing violently he ordered a withering blast of disruptor fire to be directed after the fleeing ship.
'Hard to port! What the hell does he think he's doing?' On board the bridge of the Enterprise the situation was no less confused. As Worf rapidly redirected the defences Data's hands flew over his controls attempting to make some sense of what was happening. Picard and Riker turned to Troi expectantly, 'Counsellor?' Picard inquired. 'I have absolutely no idea I'm afraid. Perhaps they are trying to break up our attack by behaving in an apparent irrational manner.' She did not sound convince by her own words. 'Could be.. It could also be that they recognize that they have lost and are seeking to die in a blaze of glory, by taking us down with them!' Riker growled.
In the time the discussion had taken the rogue had swept through their defences, then cut to starboard. It raced along the rear of their defensive line. Entering warp suddenly it was soon racing rapidly away. All ships acted in unison, swinging round swiftly in pursuit of their quarry. They charged furiously into warp, firing all weapons in a vain attempt to slow the flight, but to no avail. It became clear to all that they were unlikely to be able to overhaul their quarry before it had gained a very dangerous lead. Then suddenly it disappeared from all sensors.
Subspace was filled with the angry howls of eleven Klingon battlecruiser captains, and one quite frustrated Federation captain too who was unable to shield his despair. The wild tactics of the Cardassian commander had succeeded, despite their best efforts. He sighed in sheer desperation, then a thought struck, and he turned to Troi. 'Counsellor, it appears that your theory was correct. I apologize for doubting you.' Troi smiled in response, commenting, 'Thank you Captain. But apologies are unnecessary.' Worf rumbled expletives under his breath while Riker tapped furiously at his padd, firing sporadic questions at various members of the bridge crew. Finally he sat back and looked across to Picard expectantly. 'Yes Number One?' Riker cleared his throat. 'First the bad news. They are far enough ahead of us that we would be unable to catch them - even at maximum warp - before they reach the Cardassian border. Now the good news. If we set up a blockade similar to the one attempted by Kurn at a tangent to their course, but cutting across it, we may be able to shepherd them along the border until such time as we are able to re-engage them. To accomplish this I would suggest contacting Captain DeSoto at DS9 and finding out what ships he can lay his hands on in a hurry. Contacting Admiral Henry would also probably prove helpful.'
'Agreed. Make it so.' Picard had obviously lost any hope he may have retained that this could be resolved without bloodshed; 'You have the bridge Number One.' He stood and strode swiftly to the ready room. Dropping into the chair behind his desk he swiftly entered his security code and requested a priority channel to Starfleet Command. Without delay the Federation Seal onscreen was replaced with the visage of Admiral Henry, lines of concern furrowing his brow. 'Yes Jean-Luc. What news?' Picard swallowed before replying. 'Bad I'm afraid. We intercepted the renegade as planned, but the intervention of a Ferengi Marauder managed to spoil our plans. We lost one of Kurn's ships, and the rogue was last seen heading at high warp in the direction of the Cardassian border.' Henry's expression darkened then he inquired, 'What is your next move?'
Picard spoke briskly; 'We intend to contact Robert DeSoto with a view to blockading the border. With a bit of luck we should be able to shepherd them along the border until such time as we are able to intercept them ourselves.' The admiral regarded him, then nodded his agreement; 'Make it so.' The connection was terminated.
'O.K. Tess, you can go now, everything seems to be in order', Crusher spoke confidently. Allenby swung her legs off the couch and stood in front of her. 'Thanks Doctor Crusher', and after a disproving glower in Bashir's direction she left the room. As she stepped through the door she passed Riker entering. He stopped muttering, 'Are we still alright for this evening Tess? She glanced in his direction mumbling a response, then turned away.
Shaking his head he strode towards Crusher. His eyebrow raised enquiringly; 'What's with her?' Crusher glanced at him, intent on her tricorder readout, 'Um nothing she's..' She became acutely aware of whom she was speaking to, 'er.. She's just a bit tired that's all. I've told her to take things easy for a few days.' The hesitation in her voice had not gone unnoticed however. Riker scrutinized her expression carefully, but could find no evidence of any deception. He realized that such was not in Crusher's character, and that if she was concealing something she was usually honest enough to say so. Besides, as first officer he was informed of all medical conditions likely to impair the performance or judgment of any crewmember as a matter of course. So he shrugged off the question knowing that information would be forthcoming shortly.
'So, what can I do for you Will?' Beverly became businesslike to cover up her slip. He smiled and looked at her a little sheepishly. Recognizing the signs of one of his embarrassing, but usually comical injuries, she steeled herself promising - not for the first time - that she would not laugh. He groaned, rolling up his sleeve, disclosing a series of long scratches up his forearm. Crusher found them oddly familiar. Then it hit; 'Aren't those...?' He grimaced and nodded replying, 'Ahuh. Cat claw marks. Remember when Data attended that cybernetics symposium on Biplane III?' She nodded; 'Yeah well, Data asked me to look in on Spot once in a while.. Feed her. The trouble with feeding a cat is that you have to be in close proximity.. And what is so funny?' He concluded irritably.
Beverly was standing, bent over an examination couch. Her head was in her folded arms, her shoulders shaking. The howls of mirth echoed over the room. She straightened up wiping the tears from her eyes, attempting to regain her composure. The attempt was very short-lived. One look at his aggrieved visage was enough to set her off again. Meanwhile, Bashir, attracted by the sounds of merriment, had approached the small group. Smiling in greeting to Riker, he glanced in an aloof manner at Crusher commenting, 'Pay no attention to her Commander. I've been trying all week to get her to treat her patients with a bit more decorum. Come over here, we'll leave her to her fun.' They walked over to a distant couch, Riker hopped up to sit on it as Bashir reached for a skin regenerative probe.
'You know Commander, the life of a doctor is really quite varied', Bashir chattered away quite cheerily. Riker sat quietly barely noticing the happy prattle. He became aware that he had missed something important, then his head jerked up; 'I'm sorry Doctor, what did you say?' Bashir blinked, 'Er I said, 'And then there was..' Crusher appeared at his elbow, 'Julian I need a hand if you're not too busy?' He turned away making his good-byes to Riker as he approached Beverly stood next to a lieutenant holding his hand up to his face. Will attempted to regain his attention, but to no avail. He stood and strode purposefully out of the sickbay, deep in thought.
'Sir, transmission coming in from the Enterprise', the young ensign turned towards DeSoto expectantly. His head snapped up from its position scrutinizing the nearby status board as he registered the information. 'In my ready room!' He disappeared through the sliding doors adrenaline racing in expectancy. He slid quickly behind his desk, mind clearing of the million and one problems that had surfaced during the emergency refit. Recalling that it had been the plan that he would be the one to contact the Enterprise, and not the other way around he felt a sudden knot of tension develop in his stomach. Jean-Luc Picard never changed the plan. Something was badly wrong. Quickly tapping in his ID code he saw the face of Jean-Luc Picard appear in front of him. He instantly knew that all was not well. He sat back in his chair and regarded his old friend warily. Finally he spoke;
'O.K. Jean-Luc, what happened?' He inquired briskly. Picard growled, then related the events that had transpired. DeSoto swore; 'Damn Ferengi! If they hadn't..' Jean-Luc held up his hand, 'I know, I know. But there's nothing we can do now, except for..' Quickly he filled DeSoto in on the details of his current plan. DeSoto thought swiftly; 'I should be able to get my hands on quite a few ships. As you know, the Charleston, Potemkin and Merrimac are engaged in search and - hopefully - destroy manoeuvres in the sector. The Endeavor can probably be pulled from escort of the Itel - the Cardassians are known to be heading this way now - let's see who else..' He called up a manifest of the Federation operations in the sector, then resumed; 'Hmmm. Yeah, the Akagi's free, so too the Monitor.. and.. hey get this, the Galaxy herself is just coming on-line after her latest baryon sweep - you know he'd never forgive you if he missed the party!'
Picard held up a hand once again, fearful his friend would attempt to rope in the entire fleet if he didn't pull on the reins slightly; 'Yes thank you Robert, I think that will be quite enough!' Counting off on his fingers; 'One Rigel, two Excelsior, three Nebula, a Galaxy and a Sovereign class starship ought to be enough to handle one rogue Galaxy class - especially when backed up by nearly a full squadron of angry Klingons manning Vor'cha class attack cruisers!' DeSoto nodded then looked up sharply; 'Er Jean-Luc, haven't you miscounted? Don't you mean three Excelsior class ships?' Picard regarded him in mock innocence; 'I don't think so Robert. The Charleston and Potemkin are the only Excelsiors you mentioned. Who else did you have in mind to help?' DeSoto was completely wrong-footed; 'I, er well I.. That is the Hood is.. Oh alright, very funny!' Picard was chuckling merrily at his friend's confusion; 'Do you mean that the Hood would be available Robert?' A growl was his response. He laughed and cut the communication, leaving DeSoto to organize the assembly of the fleet.
'Very well Mr. LaForge. It appears that your earlier suggestion will have to be implemented. With the suspected course of the renegade now more localized we should be able to construct a tachyon grid of sufficient mass to prevent their passage across the demilitarised zone, or any other part of the border. You will need to transmit the schematics of our earlier plan to the Hood who are coordinating the effort. Incidentally, did your examination of the combat logs of the Intrepid bear any fruit?' He waited with bated breath for the answer. Geordie's eyes swivelled in his direction before replying; 'Yes sir. First the bad news, the Intrepid did not get off a single shot'; At this Picard raised his hand to quell the outburst he knew was swelling within Worf's throat; 'Meaning the rogue got a full load of weapons off her. Secondly, the good - in our encounter they were forced to fire off almost a third of their entire augmented inventory in order to make good their escape. So, they are left with probably half to three quarters of a full load. Not counting those used in other attacks of course.' He attempted to finish on a high, but failed rather badly. No-one was pleased with the report.
'Very well Mr. LaForge. I suggest you depart to Engineering to prepare the transmission to the Hood. Dismissed.' Geordie stood and departed swiftly to complete the tasks at hand. He realized that they were not as easy as they seemed. He needed to know the strength and characteristics of the ships involved in this encounter before he could assess the validity of the data he was to transmit. Communicating with the Chief Engineer of the Hood would be necessary. Closely followed by numerous simulations to determine the optimum configuration based on the information supplied by the Hood. He sighed and stepped off the turbo-lift, turning left into Engineering proper. He called over his team; 'Reg, Sonya, get over here', he clapped his hands together, 'we got work to do, let's move people! It's gonna be a long night!'
'Damage report sir', the young officer approached the two Guls nervously. He tried to make his comment as ambiguous as possible, not to show preference to either officer. As Terek before him had observed there would be subsequent encounters with both. In any case Macet snatched the proffered padd and scoured it intently. He snarled and threw it to Evek. The young messenger took the opportunity to exit, somewhat hastily. As he left quickly he caught the angry response of Evek as the door to the ready room slid closed behind him.
'You see what your recklessness has cost us Evek? Dammit this is..' Evek cut in angrily, 'Pah, you have no stomach for battle Macet. You are no Cardassian!' The comment caused a flash of anger in the eyes of the senior officer, but he maintained his temper continuing his criticism as if the other had not spoken; '.. stupid! This list of repairs', he snatched the padd from Evek and slammed it on the desk, 'will take us hours to complete. Meanwhile, we cannot engage the cloak while the repairs are underway. We will be vulnerable, visible to the Federation sensors. While they hunt us down!'
Outside Terek glanced at Seetel. The once ebullient officer was pale. He knew how close it had really been. Not the propaganda spread about by the two Guls. He was a veteran of the Cardassian/Federation wars, having served on the front-line. He knew the power of the forces they now faced. He was frightened. He knew of the search the Federation had mounted for them, and of the strength of feeling certain of their opponents felt towards Cardassians in general, and toward them specifically. Not for the first time he felt afraid and tasted the acrid bile of fear in his throat. Seetel noticed his attention and smiled shyly in response, but the returning smile was wan and listless.
'Sure Captain DeSoto, no problem!' Kira was in effusive mood. Despite news of the loss of the Klingon ship she felt good about the current situation. The combined combat logs showed that the force had significantly hurt the Cardassians. They would have to hide up for repairs, which meant - she grinned wolfishly - they would be visible to anyone looking in the right direction. It was simply a matter of working out what the right direction was. That was where DeSoto and his blockade force came in. To herd the renegade into the funnel, at the bottom of which lay DS9, and hopefully the Enterprise et al, to deliver the final coup-de gras.
DeSoto grinned, 'Good Colonel. I was hoping you'd say that. If you can act as command and control on this then we can liaise more freely with both forces. Anyway, thanks. I have to go sort through the comms we've had from the other fleet members. I'll be speaking to you soon. DeSoto out.' He pressed the key to cut the transmission. In Kira's office the screen darkened, then was replaced by the Federation seal. She turned away from her ODN terminal deep in thought.