Chapter 38

First City, Qo'noS

Monday 17th March 2375

Lightning flashed as yet another storm, a particularly bad one this time, raged over the First City, jagged forks tearing open the skies, followed immediately by rolls of thunder. The rumbles and bangs were almost deafening, coming so close together that they had merged into one long, menacing crash. It was just past noon, but the sky was dark; huge black clouds blotting out the light and warmth of the sun and deluging the city below with ice-cold rain. The streets were almost deserted. No one in their right mind would choose to be outdoors in this weather, and everyone had taken shelter wherever they could. Likewise, the air traffic lanes were quiet, the storm having grounded all but the most determined travellers.

One shuttle, braver or perhaps foolhardier than the rest, flying as low as possible to avoid the lightning strikes, came down to land as it reached its destination, skidding slightly on the waterlogged road until its pilot got it back under control and brought it to a halt.

The fee demanded by the pilot was high. Flying in weather like this was risky and the passenger was an off-worlder who could no doubt afford it. The woman paid without protest, and as he took the payment from her, the pilot wondered idly what she was doing in this district. They were far from the usual tourist areas of the city. He shrugged. As long as she paid, it was none of his concern.

USS Endeavour

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, if indeed he ever did.

The story that Captain Royce recounted was one that was tragically becoming all too common since the beginning of this war. The Jem'Hadar battlecruiser 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 wanted (needed, they'd said) 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.

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 rapidly 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 Endeavour had found them, the remnants of 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'd 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, understandably, 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 to which they were most accustomed – 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, 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!

First City, Qo'noS

"Kosst!" Stepping out of the cab, Jen Maren muttered the imprecation under her breath, momentarily rethinking the paranoia that had prevented her from giving the taxi pilot her true destination. It was a short walk, only a few blocks, but the rain was torrential, and despite the shawl covering her head, she was already soaked through. Shivering, she pulled her shawl further over her face and began to walk, eventually halting outside a huge, fortress-like building.

A pair of armed guards stood one on either side of the entrance, huddling under the large stone ledge that overhung the great glass doors. They looked as wet and uncomfortable as Maren felt but no less vigilant. She approached them cautiously and was not surprised when they snapped to attention, disruptor rifles at the ready. The headquarters of Klingon Imperial Intelligence was not the sort of place that got casual visitors and she had not made an appointment.

She shivered and it was not entirely because of the cold. This was not where she was supposed to be debriefed. She should be on Earth now, not Qo'noS but the Prophets had ordained otherwise. Exhibiting a confidence that she did not truly feel, she marched up to them. "I need to see the officer in charge."

USS Endeavour

Yawning, Mackenzie glanced at the time. It was not particularly late, 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 it was time to relieve 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. "In private!" He glared at the bridge officers who had stopped what they were doing and were listening with avid interest. Seeing his murderous expression, they quickly looked away and became very busy with their appointed tasks.

Mackenzie sighed. Whatever Krang wanted, he really didn't need it right now. "Very well," he said, resignedly. "Come into my ready room." Turning, he headed back to the room he had just vacated, and Krang followed him – and if he was stomping a little more than usual, nobody commented.

"NuqneH?" Mackenzie demanded, as the doors closed, shutting out the interested stares of the bridge crew. "What can I do for you?"

"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."

Stunned by the revelation, Mackenzie said nothing, not quite taking it in. Kehlan wanted to leave 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, no longer able to contain his anger. "First, I get this ridiculous request from Kehlan, 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 thought 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. 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 the Hegh'Ta," Krang reminded the tera'ngan captain. "I am currently Hegh'Ta's captain, and 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 does still have a lot to learn but she's done well on the Endeavour. She's a good officer and she has the potential to 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. "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 the offer with interest. "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."