IKS Hegh'Ta

Monday 10th February 2375

Entering the mess hall, Krang moved over to the tables, looking to see what was on offer that evening. He was hungry. He had just spent the afternoon reviewing training records with the Hegh'Ta's security chief and making recommendations for drills and exercises. It wasn't really his job. Technically he was only a passenger on the ship and had no authority, but mindful of his experience in this area, Kay'vin had been quick to put him to work. The captain might have an odd and rather exuberant sense of humour at times, but he was good at his job and genuinely cared about his crew.

Not that the crew were happy with all the extra gunnery and targeting drills that were being put into place. The practice would be good for them, though, and might just help to keep them alive when the ship next went into battle. Dominion ships were incredibly powerful, and they needed every advantage they could get if they were going to survive, let alone stand a chance of actually winning this war.

There was a good selection of food on offer, and after a few moments thought, he helped himself to some Bregit lung and a generous portion of gagh before seating himself at the table with the senior officers of the Hegh'Ta. The lower ranks would not eat until later, so for the moment, with the exception of the serving staff, the officers had the spacious hall to themselves.

This was the life, Krang thought as he took a swig of his bloodwine, some of his own this time, from one of the barrels he'd had sent aboard. It was much better than the stuff that had been served the first night of the voyage. The crew were obviously enjoying it as well, and even Ch'vok had a tankard in his hand. The first officer had actually performed quite well in today's exercises, probably wanting to impress Krang, who in spite of his Federation uniform, was of high social rank and embodied everything he thought worthy of respect. What Kay'vin had said was true; if only he would make the effort, he had potential to make something of himself.

It had been quite a while since Krang had eaten fresh gagh – good quality Klingon food was hard to obtain on Frontera, surprising really when one thought about it, since it was right on the border and had so many Klingons, both resident and visiting. The thought slipped into his mind that it was a pity it was such a short journey to their destination; they were three days into the voyage now – only a few more days and they would arrive at Earth, and then there would be all the protocol and meetings – long dreary meetings, none of which would accomplish anything. Any contentment he'd felt vanished as though it had never existed. The Federation politicians were unlikely to listen to anything the Klingons or the Romulans, or for that matter the Starfleet personnel who were actually out there on the front lines, had to say.

Not that he trusted the Romulan government himself, but for the moment they were allies, fighting on the same side against a common threat. Something had to be done to make the politicians listen to the people involved in the fighting or the war would be lost. And despite Admiral Portway's optimism and the reassuring words he'd spoken to Kay'vin when they'd earlier discussed this subject, he was a defector, for all the current Klingon government chose to ignore that fact and was therefore not to be trusted. They would not listen to someone like him, and nothing would change. Still, he had his orders, and he would obey them.

A burst of uproarious laughter interrupted Krang's momentary introspection and he shook himself mentally, turning his attention back to the present.

Captain Kay'vin started to sing – a popular and very funny song about a warrior who wanted to fight but couldn't find a battle, and taking another mouthful of bloodwine, Krang joined the other officers in the chorus.

"…but the battle failed, and peace was made,

and Sto-vo-kor roared with laughter…"

They were on their third repetition of the song, the lyrics changing each time and becoming more and more ridiculous, not to mention risqué, when the comm system let out a shrill squeal, followed by the voice of the duty bridge officer. "Bridge to Captain Kay'vin, we are picking up an emergency transmission. A transport freighter identifying itself as the Orinoco, carrying refugees from the war, is under attack by a squadron of Jem'Hadar attack ships. They are requesting urgent assistance."

The captain was already on his feet, wine and song forgotten. There was no question but that they would answer the distress call. "Plot an intercept course," he ordered briskly as he headed towards the exit. "Increase speed to maximum."

Getting to his feet to follow the captain, Krang sensed the almost subliminal change in intensity of the Hegh'Ta's warp drive as the vessel began to streak across space at enormous speed, taking them towards the endangered freighter and battle with the Jem'Hadar.

USS Endeavour NCC-71805

Captain James Mackenzie had been in command of the Endeavour for several years now and he knew his ship inside out. Nevertheless, he took the time to study the schematics carefully as he pondered the improvements his engineer had suggested. A Nebula class ship, Endeavour was a little smaller, not to mention cheaper than the more popular Galaxy class ship and had a crew capacity of seven hundred and fifty, although it had been some time since they'd had that many people onboard. Not the newest or most modern of ships, she had, however, been regularly upgraded and carried the newest style of equipment pod, the odd-looking, vaguely triangular structure carried high on her back, giving her an impressive and much needed array of weapons and sensors.

He nodded to himself. Argyle was an experienced and innovative engineer and once again, he'd come up with some good ideas. Yes, if they could get Endeavour booked into a drydock when they reached their destination, then this latest update should not take long to install. He'd have a word with his first officer. Commander Martin would… Major Speares, he corrected himself with a pang of grief. Speares was his first officer now. This mission was a dangerous one. The constant fighting continued to take its toll, and he had lost Martin and several other crew members in a rather nasty fight just over a month ago. He'd served with Speares for a long time, but Martin longer, and he was still not over his loss.

A frown crossed his face as he considered the problem. He'd need to ask again for more officers, although he'd be lucky to get any. Replacements were thin on the ground, but Speares could not continue to do double duty indefinitely.

"Picking up a distress call, Captain."

"Let's hear it," he instructed.

"Mayday, Mayday… SS Orinoco… under attack by Jem'Hadar fighters… refugees onboard... Repeat, we are under attack..."

Mackenzie frowned as he listened to the recording. The freighter captain sounded frightened, which was not surprising under the circumstances. A cargo ship had neither the speed to escape nor the weaponry with which to defend itself. Why, he wondered, had it been out there without an armed escort? Did its captain not know the danger? Endeavour was not quite in tiptop fighting condition, but there was no other option but to respond. A distress call could not be ignored.

"Set a course, maximum warp."

"Already working on it, sir. Course laid in and ready to engage."

"Do it." Mackenzie gestured in a forward direction, watching the screen intently as the ship responded to the command. "How long to intercept?"

The helm officer glanced down at his console, reading the rows of data scrolling across it. "At current speed, thirty minutes, Captain."

Cargo Hold, SS Orinoco

Huddled by the window, the Bajoran woman who called herself Jen Maren found herself praying to the gods she was not sure that she even believed in. Bajoran prophets or wormhole aliens as the Federation called them… was there a difference and did it even matter? Either way, she was probably wasting her time. The entities that lived in the Celestial Temple were undoubtedly powerful, but if they actually cared about the fate of the Bajoran people they would not be allowing the Dominion access to the Alpha Quadrant.

Full of refugees, the cargo hold had never been quiet, filled with the sound of men, women, children and even a few animals, going about their daily business as best they could – the hum of low conversations, sometimes laughing, sometimes arguing or crying. Footsteps on the metal deck plates as people moved about. Children playing as best they could in the crowded space. And at night, the sound of snoring and the rustling of clothing as people tossed and turned in a futile effort to get comfortable. All those were gone now, replaced by a frightened silence punctuated only by occasional whimper, gasp, or cry of fear as people waited to find out if they would live or die.

A green flash reflecting through the tiny window attracted her attention. Scrambling onto her knees, she turned to look outside just in time to see a bird-of-prey hurtling past, banking and sending a volley of deadly phaser fire at their attackers. Hope rose unbidden. "Klingons!" she called out. "The Klingons are here!"

IKS HeghTa

It took the Klingon ship a little over twenty minutes at maximum warp to reach the stricken freighter. Dropping out of warp. Kay'vin was pleased to find that the freighter was battered but still intact, although how long that would remain true was anyone's guess. Thanks to their cloaking device, the enemy was not aware of their presence, and he took a few moments to assess the situation. Whilst he did intend to take his ship in guns blazing, he would not do so blindly.

There were four of the enemy ships, he discovered. That was not good. Hegh'Ta was just one ship, and against four Jem'Hadar vessels, the fighting was going to be intense. The enemy ships were small, not much bigger than a B'rel class bird-of-prey, but they were fast, manoeuvrable and heavily armed. Their phased polaron beam weapons were incredibly powerful and a match for even the most advanced shielding technology.

Kay'vin, as was every starship captain, was all too aware of what had happened to the Odyssey, the Federation ship which had encountered them back in 2370, and that ship's fate was very much in his mind as he formed his battle strategy.

Quickly, he gave his orders, and like the professionals they were, they all moved into the necessary positions with a minimum of fuss and got on with their assigned jobs.

Kargan, naturally, had taken the helm. He'd been training as a test pilot before the war and was one of the best Kay'vin had ever come across. If anyone could keep Hegh'Ta out of the way of those deadly beams, it would be him. Kehlan and Ch'vok were looking after the science and operational side of things – shields, comms, scanning and so on. He did not like placing those two so close together, but this was battle and there was nowhere else he could realistically put either of them. Vareq had gone straight to the gunnery station without being asked – as though, with his marksmanship skills there was anywhere else for him. If Kargan was the best pilot he knew, Vareq was the best gunner by a qell'cam, and he could not avoid the bitter thought that had High Command realised just how good they were, they would have been moved to a more prestigious ship. After a moment's thought, Kay'vin sent Krang to assist Vareq.

All was ready, and in the time available to them, there was nothing more they could do to prepare. Taking a deep breath, the captain gave the order for the cloak to be disengaged and the wings to be dropped into firing position. As Kargan neatly inserted ship between the Jem'Hadar and their target, Kay'vin ordered the gunnery team to begin firing and the battle commenced. No one seeing the Klingon captain now would call him a joker; his good humour completely gone, he was deadly serious. And yet, there was a light in his eyes that spoke of the fierce joy he felt in battle.

As instructed, Krang had joined the gunnery officer at the tactical consoles, taking control of Hegh'Ta's huge disruptor canons and sending volley after volley of verdant fire at the Jem'Hadar ships. He'd been a very young officer when he'd last served on a Klingon ship; the year he'd spent in the Defence Force had been a requirement of his Imperial Intelligence training – and he was pleased to discover that he had not completely lost his skill.

Glad of the assistance, the young gunner, turned his attention to the torpedo launchers, swiftly bringing them online and firing them at the enemy ships – and if Krang had thought he was a good shot, he quickly discovered that Vareq far outclassed him in this regard. Every torpedo found its target.

"Incoming fire!" Kehlan called out. "Diverting auxiliary power to the shields."

"Initiating evasive manoeuvres," Kargan responded, suiting actions to words and bringing the ship round for another attack.

"Keep us between the freighter and the Jem'Hadar," Kay'vin reminded the young pilot. "Protect the Orinoco at all costs."

Kargan did his best, but without leaving the freighter exposed to the enemy, the Klingon ship was unable to manoeuvre well enough to completely avoid the enemy fire coming at them from multiple directions, and a polaron beam caught Hegh'Ta across the upper port side of the hull. It was only a glancing blow. but it was enough to weaken the shields.

"Shields down to fifty percent and continuing to fall," Kehlan reported, frantically trying to bring them back up to full strength.

The Hegh'Ta lurched violently as it was struck by a barrage of torpedoes from the nearest enemy ship and Krang was thrown to the ground, hitting his head on something, although he wasn't sure what, and almost blacking out from the force of the blow.

As the ship steadied, he got to his feet, staggering as he regained his balance. Cursing, he wiped the blood out of his eyes and looked around him to survey the damage. It was severe. Sparks arose from the consoles and the acrid smell of smoke filled the air.

Captain Kay'vin lay sprawled on the deck, a jagged piece of metal protruding from his chest. Instantly, Krang was at his side, checking for a pulse, but there was nothing he could do to help the stricken captain; he was already dead. There was no time even for the death ritual – that would have to wait until later. Kay'vin would have to cross the river of blood unannounced. Sto-Vo-Kor would receive no warning of this warrior's arrival.

Author's note... I know, I know, I'm sorry!