T’Parel raised an eyebrow in Vulcan inquiry.
“Trinaj? Are you injured?”
Captain’s Log, supplemental. We’ve assumed standard orbit around the Pelleri homeworld. I have beamed down with a small Away Team to take part in diplomatic negotiations with the Pelleri Sovereign, His Most Gracious and Royal Majesty, Pr’keeln VII. We have still not found the ship that abducted Sheket and the others. Cmdr. Ross’s objection to my leaving the ship is duly noted; I’m satisfied that I’ll be in no danger on the surface.
The Sovereign’s Palace on Pelleri Prime was impressive even to Capt. Xiang, who had seen more than a little glitz and glamor in her experiences with interstellar diplomacy. The throne room of the Sovereign, a plump, middle-aged man with sleepy eyes but of obvious intelligence, was remarkably ornate. Troops of the Royal Pelleri Guard, armed with wickedly-edged ceremonial halberds, stood at each door.
Now, Xiang sat patiently along with the representatives of nearly a dozen other galactic powers. When her turn came, she was prepared to offer the Pelleri the opportunity to apply for membership in the Federation, the mutual opening of embassies, trade incentives, economic aid, and Starfleet’s defense of the Pelleri system from its enemies. She had studied her instructions from the Federation Foreign Office at length and was, she admitted to herself, cautiously optimistic about her government’s prospects.
She listened as the Ferengi ambassador made what struck her as a rather smarmy appeal to the Pelleri Sovereign before presenting him with a gift of one hundred bars of gold-pressed latinum. The Ferengi then went on at some length as to its value.
“I don’t think the Sovereign is too impressed, ma’am,” Lt. JG Thelen, the Franklin’s xenosociologist, whispered to her. The Andorian officer had been watching the proceedings closely. “He rolled his eyes several times, and I’ve learned that that means the same thing among the Pelleri as it does on Earth and Andor.”
“Good,” Xiang murmured. “And I think the Trun ambassador scared them more than he wooed them.” She had always had a soft spot for the hulking, bearlike Trun, but many races such as the Pelleri, new to interstellar travel and still wary of offworlders, were put off by them. Thelen nodded in agreement.
“Where are the Klingons, I wonder?” Lt. T’Parel asked quietly as the Ferengi ambassador bowed obsequiously, having apparently run out of breath.
“A member of the Colindray delegation told me that the Pelleri were once, long ago, a vassal-race of the Klingons,” Thelen said. “It was during their Mezu’un Era. The Pelleri apparently have long memories, so the Klingon Empire was not invited to participate in the negotiations.”
The Sovereign rose and announced a brief adjournment as everyone jumped to their feet (or paws, claws or other podal appendages). Xiang was about to walk over to have a word with the Romulan ambassador, an ancient woman who, it was rumored, had once had dealings with the legendary Kirk and Spock, when a palace official struck an oddly-shaped gong and announced the arrival of the Cardassian ambassador.
Xiang stopped dead in her tracks.
“Please pardon my late arrival, Your Majesty,” Gul Sheket said with a sly sidelong smile at Xiang as he bowed to the Pelleri leader. “I hope I’m not too late…?”
“Your Most Gracious Majesty,” continued Sheket, “I bring you a gift of what many species believe Cardassia to be most famous for; a case of Kanar.” He gestured towards two ridge necked crewman who placed a crate before the throne. He winced as the guards broke the case open with halberds. One snapped the neck from the bottle with an efficiency the Gul could not help but admire, tasted it and when he did not die, handed it to his sovereign, who passed gas as he leaned forward to accept it. Sheket bowed again to the Pellerian, and backed quickly away.
He approached the Terran, and nodded. He handed her a lichen covered bottle. “Kanar from the Pur’eem estates; it is one hundred and fifty two years old.” Sheket announced to Xiang. “I could not bear to give it to him. Please, enjoy it at an appropriate time. But I do not see the hero of the day. Where is Lieutenant Commander Collins?”
“Still aboard my ship,” Xiang said, smiling for the benefit of the ambassadors and their staffs looking curiously at her and the Cardassian. The Federation and the Cardassian Union were still technically at war with one another, after all, even though hostilities had been stalemated for several years and there was talk of a peace treaty in the offing. “I’m still not entirely satisfied that I’ve heard the full story from her yet.”
Sheket frowned. “Oh, I hope she’s not back in your brig. You really do her an injustice to treat her this way.”
“Perhaps. But you would not respect me, my dear Gul, if I did not wonder why she has acted and spoken as she’s done since coming aboard the Franklin, and thus treat her with some… caution.”
“And is my respect so important to you, my dear Captain?”
Xiang decided she would save the kanar for later, as he’d suggested. She took an elegantly fluted glass of something alcoholic from the tray of a passing servant, and Sheket did the same. She said, “Not particularly, if I may be blunt. But if I have your respect, I’ll at least know I haven’t gone too far astray.”
He smiled and raised his glass to her.
“Were a Gul,” mused Sheket, “to restrain an operative of the Obsidian Order who had saved his ship, and, most probably the Cardassian Empire, he would at best be commanding a garbage scow on some deity forsaken moon watching Maquis insurgents throwing rocks at him. At best, he would be watching his family executed one by one before being torn limb from limb himself.” Sheket smiled again. “One of your philosophers.” Xiang braced herself for another gross historical error, but as far as she knew, what followed was correct. “Voltaire spoke concerning the British Admiral Byng, ‘The English occasionally shoot a few admirals to encourage the others.’ But surely I damage her case by defending her. I will leave your encouragement to time, your intelligence and your own good will. Ah, your engineer Commander Fisher.”
Xiang stopped herself from asking “How did you know his name?” Gul Sheket knew many things, the question was which did he lie about?
Fisher looked back at a group of children. T’Parel followed his gaze. “They appear to be playing a game of chance for sweets.” Explained the Vulcan. The children had a top made of a clear material with a wooden handle. Each side was inscribed with a Pellerian character. The side that landed up determined how much of the pot the child won.
Fisher offered his tricorder to Xiang, and whispered, “Captain, those children are playing with dilythium crystals.”
“Captain, those children are playing with dilythium crystals.”
Xiang was annoyed for an instant but let her training take over. Federation laws stated that comprehensive scans of a First Contact planet were not to be made until permission had been granted. She was sure other governments might not be so circumspect. Some races considered it naive not to have scanned and had laughed the Federation delegates out of negotiations. Others regarded it as polite and respectful and had similarly excused visiting delegations.
Xiang could not yet read the Pelleri. They were wary upon the Franklin entering extended orbit. They had dispatched a number of armed ships as escort and they had insisted on a full scan. They had also been reasonable about Xiang’s explanation, especially since the Pelleri ship had seen the momentary uncloaking of the Cardassian ship and they had detected the transporter beam. How much they understood of the technologies was still undetermined.
So perhaps these delegations were interested in another world with dilithium crystals. Fortunately this recepion area was open for sensor scans. The Pelleri might be ignorant of the value of dilitium crystals, or they might have conspired to show off the crystals as toys to whet the appetite of their visitors. Getting down to the details was what she was looking forward to. As with the Trun, Michael handled all of the smoozing and cat-and-mouse negotiations. She just came in and ironed out the details. She didn’t envy having to wade through innuendo and posturing to get down to meat of the matter, but that was her lot this time.
Ship’s Log, Stardate 43147.7. First Officer Ross recording. The Captain remains on the surface as diplomatic talks continue. She has obtained the permission of the Pelleri government for us to make a full sensor sweep of Pelleri Prime.
Lt. Clarence Nkembe realigned the lateral sensor arrays as data poured across the Sciences displays. “A Class M world, of course,” he said to Cmdr. Ross. “78% oceans and seas, 22% land, primarily in a single continent and three large island chains. Nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere. Typical weather patterns. Some indications of industrial pollution. Population approximately 220 million.” The Franklin’s Science Officer seemed lost in the wealth of information the ship’s sensors were providing to him. “Hmmmm…”
“And?” Ross gently prompted the older Kenyan scientist.
“Well. Tectonically active, it appears, with some volcanoes. Extensive mineral deposits, including dilithium, sitanium, latinum, velget, proolia, gold, silver, aluminum, bauxite. Quite a lot of dilithium, actually. Probably one of the richest supplies of any planet in the sector. Otherwise a relatively standard Class M minerological profile.”
Ross looked thoughtfully at the Bridge viewscreen, where the cloud-wrapped orb of the Pelleri homeworld slowly rotated before them. With the naked eye, he could see a half-dozen Pelleri spacecraft, as well as a Romulan warbird, a Trun battlecruiser, and a Colindray diplomatic courier. If he increased the magnification, he knew that many other ships could come into view.
“No wonder the Ferengi and the others are so eager to buddy up to the Pelleri,” the First Officer said. He checked a chrono; the current negotiating session should have adjourned again by now, for a noontime meal.
He tapped his combadge. “Ross to Captain Xiang…”
Aboard the Franklin, Ensign David Goldberg approached the guards flanking the door to Collins’ quarters.
“Is she allowed visitors?”
“One moment,” The guard on the right tapped his comm-badge “Lieutenant O’Rourke to Commander T’Parel”
“T’Parel, here”
“Commander, Ensign Goldberg is requesting to visit with Commander Collins”
“That is acceptable. Any conversation they have will be recorded over the comm system”
“Acknowledged. O’Rourke out” He pressed the keypad to allow Goldberg entry.
“Ensign, please sit down. How are you feeling? I still haven’t thanked you for keeping me from flying half way across that planetoid we were on” As she spoke, she pulled something from a desk drawer that Goldberg had read about, but never seen first hand - a pencil and a pad of paper. On it she wrote something and showed it to him. It said ‘keep the conversation light. This is the only method of communication that cannot be recorded by the computer’
Goldberg stuttered a little as he said “Oh, I’m, uh, fine. Doc Fletcher said I could return to full active duty tomorrow. How do you feel?” ‘why are we communicating like this? I have nothing to hide’
“Not bad, all things considered,” she said. But she wrote, I’m sure you don’t, but I have information that only the Captain should hear. I haven’t been able to speak to her privately, and after our experiences on the planet, I think I can only trust you to bring her to me.
“I’m glad. I’m sure being stuck in your quarters hasn’t been much fun.” Ens. Goldberg scribbled, The Captain doesn’t know me from Adam. Besides, she’s busy with the talks down below on Pelleri Prime.
Collins nodded. “I’ve had better times in my career, I have to admit.” I know. But it’s the diplomatic situation that I need to speak to her about. That, and something else. Something that could endanger the ship - even the Federation.
“Uh… getting much reading done?” What could that be? He didn’t try to hide his skepticism. And saying one thing while writing another was starting to give him a headache.
“Yes, actually. I was reading John Gill’s book on the admission of the Rigel worlds to the Federation. Pretty interesting stuff.” The real reason I was assigned to the Franklin* in the first place*, she wrote. *It’s
*
At that moment, Goldberg’s combadge sounded. It was the First Officer. “Mr. Goldberg, please report to the Bridge on the double.”
Jolee trudged up the long flight of stairs reading the Seer’s broad prediction. The wooden steps creaked and echoed in the narrow spiral tower.
The Wraith swoops low
Amidst the valley crimson
Betwixt the peaks of Jer
Across the plains of Sim
Most of the people of the valley of Jer had evacuated but there were still some holdouts like Old Yoshel. Years ago no one would have left based on a prediction. Since then many had seen the Dragon Wraiths and all knew they were real. Jolee stepped out into the tower office and there was his new pupil. Krit was bouncing between the huge windows and the telescope with the eagerness only present in the novice apprentice.
“Welcome, Ti’Jolee,” said Krit. “Just Jolee,” he sighed. He poured himself a large mug of steaming mauloh and sat. “Have you seen many Wraiths in your years as Ti’ree?” asked Krit. “Too many,” answered Jolee as he absentmindedly rubbed the burns on the side of his face. The one good thing about an apprentice, after the inevitable string of questions, was that Jolee could wrap up in a warm blanket against the cold wind whipping through the tower as his apprentice kept a vigilant eye on the horizon.
A deep slow gong sounded in the hall. All the delegates looked to the center as a huge hologram was projected onto the floor. “Delegates and ambassadors, again we welcome you to our humble world,” echoed a voice in the expanse. Even translated it had an unmistakable air of haughtiness. “We would offer you this small demonstration of one of the gifts we have to offer.” The voice seemed to be stumbling over ways to sound ingratiating. A holobubble speared a point on the main hologram and showed a Pelleri ship in orbit. Rainbow streamers began to form around it in dizzyig loops. It vanished along with the holobubble, but a small marker dot dipped in the main hologram toward the planet. “You may notice the excrutiatingly slow speed with which our harvester flies. Please let me assure you that the finest quality crystals are prepared when the utmost care is taken to slowly saturate the natural ingredients.” The dot made its way toward a valley between two large peaks butted against a large plain.
Jolee was shaken awake by Krit shouting, “A Wraith! I see a Wraith!” Jolee fell out of his chair but scrambled quickly to the telescope. He trained it in the direction Krit was pointing. The dragon’s breath was barely visible but the colors were stark against the blue sky. Thank goodness for young eyes. “Prepare the wire, boy,” intoned Jolee as he tracked the Wraith. It was a delicate call - how long to wait to get a good track versus warning too soon and maybe being a bit off. The tale-tell dip came and Jolee marked the path on the map under the telescope’s swivel mount. “Wind up for Surden, Jer’sol, and Vardel,” Jolee said as he rolled up the map and unhooked the telescope from the mount. Krit bounded down the stairs, patched in the wires for the three cities, and cranked up the power for the phone. Jolee came down the stairs and picked up the horn as a rumble began shaking the air.
“This is post 1824, I repeat, this is post 1824, do you hear me?” shouted Jolee. Spits and crackles came back with the intermingled “Surden Mill here - Jer’sol township here - Vardel City Hall here”. Jolee carefully reported the Wraiths trail and told them who to call down line. He got back good acknowledgements filled with static as the tower started to shake. The small window cut in the tower base showed the dragon’s breath spiraling hugely. “Get into the cellar,” shouted Jolee above the din. They scrambled into the shelter as the breath tore through the tower.
“We graze the surface to aid in easy removal of the topping, but rest assured we can cut deeper swathes to gather more from the same slice.” The pinpoint on the hologram rode a straight line cutting just into the planets surface. After emerging it lifted up back into orbit. The hologram ended and the lights in the hall were restored. “We appreciate this chance to entertain you,” said the voice happily.
Jolee hefted open the door to the cellar. There was debris everywhere but the tower was still standing. They found the tower office a shambles. A few window screens that didn’t hinge well had broken off and there was much in the office tossed about. Jolee remounted the telescope and surveyed the damage. At least his track had been good. He hoped that the bell towers had rung out the Call soon enough. His gaze traveled the length of the devastation. He only recognized Yarnel’s Dell after he found Surden. The area was flattened and the sun glinted off of myriad crystals dotting the hillside. Old Yoshel’s cabin should have been right there he thought.
At that moment, Goldberg’s combadge sounded. It was the First Officer. “Mr. Goldberg, please report to the Bridge on the double.”
“On my way” As he turned to go, Collins offered her right hand. He took it and realized she’d passed him a folded piece of paper. He looked at her and noticed her eyes fixed on his, eyes with so much determination behind them, he knew what was written on the page without even opening it. “I’ll come visit again after my shift is over”
“Don’t rush on my account. Go back to your quarters and rest a bit first” Collins eyes darted quickly to Goldberg’s cupped hand and back to his face. He nodded and headed to the turbolift.
“Bridge”
As the compartment traveled through the ship, Goldberg unfolded the note
Send a secured subspace message to Admiral Rostow. You can piggyback it on a message home. Tell him what has happened. All of it. He will intervene on my behalf and I can get on with my mission. I will need your help with that as well.
The turbolift doors opened onto the Bridge and Ensign Goldberg stepped forward.
Gul Sheket yawned. Discussions of who would bid for dilythium, who would bid for mining rights, who would contract with whom to extract the crystals…
A brightly colored songbird was visible from the window to the Gul’s left. A raptor of some sort, quiet, deadly, magnificent, swept from a great height and seized the singer with it’s talons. The bird died without knowing it. Not a Cardassian victory, where your opponent knew he was defeated, knew that indeed he had been a fool to oppose you in the first place, but a beautiful victory nonetheless. Perhaps he should bring some of both species home to his Cardassian estates. No, they would also kill his new wife’s Klingon Peafowl. The beautiful avian carnivores ate raw meat from her tiny hand. Sheket sighed. Klingons. Where were the Klingons, invited or not? They, like the Romulans and Cardassians were more likely to take the energy focusing crystals than to vie with Ferengi for them, but one expected them to show up and strut about, particularly since they weren’t invited. Where were they/ Another hour and he would take a walk. Perhaps he could hunt those magnificent raptors.
Then Sheket had a thought. He called the Cardassian frigate in orbit far overhead, and Dumas came on the channel - as ever, pathetically eager to please. “Do a tachyon sweep of the entire Pelleri system,” Sheket ordered, his voice curt. “The Klingons might have shown up uninvited, remaining cloaked even now.”
“We’ll begin the sweep at once, sir,” Dumas said. “It will take a little while, of course. Anything else?”
Sheket looked thoughtful. “Yes. Send… let’s see, Signal 612 to our contact at Starfleet Command. Yes, 612 will do. I think it’s time to stir the pot a bit here on Pelleri Prime.”
“I’ll see to it personally, Gul Sheket.”
The new Cardassian ambassador yawned again and broke the connection without another word. He thought of how Xiang would react, and permitted himself a small, wolfish smile.
The smoke had cleared and Jolee made his way down the hill to wear Yoshel’s cabin once stood. He searched through the rubble to the best of his ability, but he found no evidence of a body. “Maybe the Seer got to safety before the Wraiths appeared” he hoped. He recovered as many of Yoshels journals and scrolls and he could and headed back to the post.
Captain’s Log, supplemental. Three days after the Pelleri demonstration of their new method of orbital excavation of dilithium crystals, all negotiations have been suspended. It appears that the Pelleri government now has more pressing matters to attend to.
“A serious uprising?” Capt. Xiang asked. “In just three days?” She was meeting with her senior officers in the Franklin’s Conference Room 1, just aft of the Bridge.
“Yes, ma’am,” Lt. JG Thelen said. The xenosociologist’s expression was grave. “As you know, I’ve been monitoring the Pelleri news media very closely, trying to learn more about their society. The excavation process damaged a wide swath of territory in the Jer Valley, a region primarily occupied by the Sime, a long-disadvantaged - some believe oppressed - ethnic minority. Several hundred Sime people died, and apparently the public outcry provided just the spark the Sime underground needed to rally their people.”
Lt. T’Parel said, “Tactical analysis of troop movements and both military and civil communications indicates that the cities of Surden, Vardel and Jer’sol are already in rebel hands. A brigade of royal troops were defeated in a battle just two hours ago outside of Jer’sol, and a self-styled ‘Sime People’s Council Leader’ named Jolee has called for an immediate offensive against the capital.”
“Any chance that they could actually depose the Sovereign and his government?” Cmdr. Ross asked.
“I believe so,” T’Parel said. She tapped at her PADD and put up a display of the Pelleri and Sime rebel orders of battle. “The Pelleri have only a small standing army and no experience fighting an insurgency. The Sime seem to have been quiescent for generations, but apparently were stockpiling weapons and training their cadres. Their forces are at least the equals of the Sovereign’s. It is obvious that the central government is quite taken aback by the rapidity of the rebels’ onslaught.”
“I would be, too,” Xiang said, sipping from a cup of hot green tea. “This has practically come out of nowhere. The timing of it, given the diplomatic negotiations and the presence of so many alien ships in orbit, also strikes me as a bit suspicious, frankly. Is there any indication of offworld involvement?”
“Not as yet,” Thelen said. “But there are certainly those who would hope to influence and ingratiate themselves with a new regime, if they knew that the Sovereign and his government would never agree to grant trade ties and mining rights.”
“Such as the Klingons,” Lt. Nkembe said, nodding thoughtfully.
Chief Engineer Fisher added, “Or the Ferengi or Trun.” The Pelleri had told them two days earlier that no further purpose would be served by continued negotiations, but their ships remained in Pelleri orbit.
“Good point,” Xiang said, turning in her chair and looked out at the Pelleri homeworld. After a few moments, she turned back. “Very well. Mr. T’Parel, Mr. Nkembe, continue intensive scanning. Keep an eye out for offworld energy signatures - Ferengi disruptors, Trun power converters, or the like. Mr. Thelen, keep monitoring planetary communications. See what more we can learn about this Jolee character. Cmdr. Ross, I’d like you to give some thought to our options, consistent with the Prime Directive, if the Sovereign and his government look likely to fall. We’ve worked too hard to let Federation interests suffer just because the Pelleri decided to have an impromptu revolution. Anything else? All right, then. Thank you, everyone. Dismissed…”
“Captain, a communication 612.”
Xiang cursed as she sat up and rubbed her eyes.
“Give me a minute, Ensign.”
Having donned her uniform and made herself presentable, Xiang was not surprised to find that Gul Sheket had sent a private encoded message at 2:00 AM.
“This had better be important,” she frowned at the Gul.
“I do apologize, Captain. It is noon on Cardassia Prime. But given the developments on Pelleri, I felt that the discussion I had with, as your philosopher Scarlet O’Hara would call them, “my folks” should be made known to you.”
Xiang had downed a cup of coffee and felt almost human as she began on the second. “Yes, they are about to embark on a civil war that will disrupt dilythium production.”
“Orbital mining seems a damned awkward way to strip mine,” reflected Sheket, “and the Pelleri seem to have very mixed technologies; crank ‘telephones’ with spacecraft that may be ahead of ours and yours; farting Kings whose imperial guards have halberds; and,” here he smiled, “the inability to detect a cloaked Klingon cruiser in orbit. I believe that the Federation has been had concerning the Prime Directive.”
Xiang was suddenly wide awake. “Asha, are you suggesting that the Pelleri don’t have a warp civilization? That another…player is faking it for them?”
Gul Sheket smiled like a zipper.
An hour later, Xiang asked Security officers Giotto and Cavit to wait outside her Ready Room while she spoke to Collins. They complied, and the door whooshed shut.
Xiang settled in behind her desk, her fingers drumming on its Theban marble surface. Benjamin Franklin looked down impassively from an ancient oil portrait on the bulkhead behind her. “Ens. Goldberg says you have something to tell me,” the captain said. “He’s also proven that he has a loyalty to this ship and this mission that you apparently lack.” She passed Collins’s note back to her:
Send a secured subspace message to Admiral Rostow. You can piggyback it on a message home. Tell him what has happened. All of it. He will intervene on my behalf and I can get on with my mission. I will need your help with that as well.
Collins flushed crimson at Goldberg’s betrayal, as she thought it to be.
Xiang continued, “The situation on Pelleri Prime is going from bad to worse, and now your old friend Sheket has suggested that I’ve been deceived from the outset.”
Collins stared back, clearly wrestling with her emotions.
“You wanted to talk, Mr. Collins,” Xiang said sharply. “So talk.”
“Captain, bridge.”
“Xiang.”
“A communication from Admiral Rostow.”
“I’ll take it in my quarters when I’m done here.”
“Captain, it isn’t for you…it’s for Lt. Commander Collins.”
Xiang’s eyebrow would have done a Vulcan proud. “Put him on.” Xiang turned the view screen so that both sides of the table could see.
Admiral Rostow was red faced. Very red faced, “You okay, Jeremie?”
“Yessir.”
“Gul Sheket sent me a 612…Xiang! What the hell are you doing to my operative?”
“Admiral,” responded Xiang, “She has been associating with Gul Sheket, plotting against me and her crewmates,”
“Xiang.” Rostow interrupted. “Collins has worked for you for one month. She’s been working for me since she’s been in Star Fleet. Gul Damned Sheket sent me a 612. I find out from a damned Cardassian that you’ve imprisoned my operative, that you’ve refused her communication with her…and your, dammit, superior officer!”
“Sir,” interjected Xiang, “I have been misled about the Prime Directive in the Perelli instance. Gul Sheket pointed out”
“Don’t interrupt an Admiral, Captain. Yes, Gul Sheket pointed it out to me as well. And you haven’t been misled alone dammit, Star Fleet has been misled. Think about more than yourself, Xiang. Commander Collins works for me, as do you. Get that through your head, we are all on the same team. Why the hell do I find out from a Cardassian that there is a cloaked Klingon in orbit? If you can’t find that out, my intelligence office can, if she isn’t in your damn brig. Now, get Commander Collins out of the brig, get her an officer to work for her, and put a shuttle craft, no dammit, put the Captain’s gig at her service.”
“Aye aye, Sir.” Xiang tried to be calm. “The Lt. Commander will have my cooperation.”
“Commander, Captain, not a courtesy of address. She is, as off five minutes ago a Commander. Keep you nose clean for the rest of this conversation and I won’t make you pin the pips on yourself. Now leave the room while I debrief my operative.”
“Admiral, this is my ready room!”
“And pin the pips on her when she leaves.” Rostov’s eyes would have bored through neutronium.
Xiang stepped back out onto the Bridge and dismissed Giotto and Cavit, adding, “Mr. Collins is no longer under arrest, on orders from Starfleet. Please advise Lt. T’Parel that Collins has also been promoted to full commander, effective immediately, and will be resuming her duties as Chief of Security.”
Their expressions were priceless - if her mood had been any better, she might actually have enjoyed them. Cavit simply said, “Aye, ma’am,” and they left.
She explained to Cmdr. Ross what Vice Adm. Rostow had said; he was as appalled as her. Then she turned to Nkembe at the Sciences station. “Any progress finding the cloaked Klingon ship?” If it’s even really there, she thought.
The Science Officer shook his head. “No, Captain. I’ve realigned the lateral sensor array and have been running continuous, asychronous tachyon sweeps, but it’s very slow going. Klingon cloaking techniques have been refined in recent years, and depending on a number of factors, we might never find them. Did Gul Sheket indicate where, in particular, we might look?”
She gave a bitter chuckle. “When I asked, he said, ‘I could tell you, but that would be no fun.’ I think we’re on our own.”
Ross crossed his arms and frowned. “I still think we’re being had. I wouldn’t trust Sheket or Collins any farther than I could throw them.”
“I know, John. But orders are orders.” She looked thoughtful, and walked over to the Ops station, where Lt. JG Elizabeth Babb stood on duty. “Mr. Babb, you recorded my conversation with Vice Adm. Rostow just now?”
“Of course, ma’am. Per standard procedure.”
“Good. Route a copy to my own comm account, please.” The Starfleet Chief of Staff might find it interesting, she thought.
“Aye, Captain… done.”
“Thank you. Now, open a channel on the standard Imperial Klingon Defense Forces ship-to-ship frequency. Coding Alpha-7.”
The young officer looked at her curiously, then pressed several keys. The console sounded a tone. “Channel open.”
Xiang said crisply, “Klingon vessel, this is Captain Evelyn Xiang of the Federation starship Franklin. I’ve been told that you might be nearby, and I’d like to discuss the situation on Pelleri Prime with you. Our respective governments are allies, and as yet I have no reason to act in an unfriendly manner toward you. However, if you do not respond within five minutes, I must assume that you are on a mission that is contrary to Federation interests, and act accordingly. I await your reply. Xiang out.” She nodded to Babb, who closed the channel.
“And now we wait,” the captain said, pulling her uniform tunic straight as she settled into her chair.
“Admiral, maybe I should be relieved of duty” Collins was beginning to doubt her effectiveness in resolving the Pelleri matter.
“Good lord, why? I handpicked you for this assignment. You’re not questioning my judgement, sre you?”
“No sir. Mine. I’m sure you heard about my, um, lack of protocol in dealing with Gul Sheket”
“It amused me no end. Quite reminiscent of mid 20th century film noir”
That was what I was thinking of, thought Jeremie “Not my finest moment, sir. And I failed to capture Aycharaych.”
“That was only part of the mission. Now you must convince your chief engineer to make the modifications my staff developed. It’s the only way you will find the cloaked Klingon ship”
“Without the Captain’s or the first officer’s trust, I am at a loss as to how to do that.”