Nonetheless, even though the starship had been subjected to this most undignified and unprovoked attack, Captain Calhoun's angry order prompted a startled gasp from Commander Shelby. " Captain—!"
"Save the indignation, Commander. I didn't say I would. . . merely that I wanted to. Still, the day's young," and Calhoun rose from his chair, looking energized and confident. "Lefler, damage report."
"Some damage on primary shields," Robin Lefler reported from ops. "No structural damage. Forward shields at eighty percent and holding."
"McHenry . . ." began Calhoun.
And to his surprise, the normally laid-back helmsman said in staccato fashion, "I've angled the ship to protect the damaged shields, sir. Taking evasive action." He caught Lefler's look from the corner of his eye and turned to glance at the captain. "Was that jumping the gun, sir?"
"Yes, but I'll let it go this time," replied Calhoun, who had in fact been about to issue exactly those orders. "Mr. Boyajian, have you raised them yet?"
"Not yet, sir." Boyajian, a tall, black-haired tactical specialist, had stepped in to cover for Zak Kebron while the security chief was off-ship.
Calhoun spoke briskly and forcefully, yet in a manner so unhurried that it gave the impression he felt fairly unthreatened by the present situation. Whether that was truly the case or not was impossible to tell. "Keep trying, but meantime see ifyou can determine where their key points of vulnerability are and target them."
"Trying, Captain. Tough to scan them through their shields."
"Do your best." He turned toward the science station. "Lieutenant Soleta, any thoughts on the ship's pedigree?"
"Although the vessel bears passing similarities with Kreel vessels, it is not of that race," she said as she checked her scanners. "It will take time to make a full analysis."
"Fine, you've got twenty seconds."
"I appreciate the leisure time, sir."
"They're coming around again," warned Shelby.
"Firing again!" Boyajian warned.
Two phase/plasma bolts streaked out from the underside of the black-and-silver ship. Mark McHenry's eyes seemed to glitter with an almost demented glee as his fingers flew over the controls with such speed that Lefler, sitting not ten feet away, couldn't even see them.
The twin blasts arced right for the front of the saucer section, and would have struck it cleanly had not the Excalibursuddenly—with alacrity and grace—executed a forty-five-degree roll on her horizontal axis. Terms such as "sideways" had no meaning in the depth of space when there was no other body, such as a planet, to relate it to. Nonetheless, "sideways" was what the Excalibursuddenly was as the plasma blasts shot past her, bracketing her on either side.
"Excellent!" Shelby called out. McHenry had had no more vocal critic or detractor than Shelby when she had first seen him at his post, apparently unfocused and uninterested. But faced with a crisis,
McHenry had reacted with ingenuity and full capability.
McHenry's response to Shelby's spontaneous praise was to turn and grin at her.
Soleta, who appeared oblivious to McHenry's maneuvering, glanced up from her science station. "Sir, I believe that bulge to their aft section is the key to their propulsion system . . . some sort of a concentrated ion glide."
"Mr. Boyajian, target it, ready phasers for a threesecond shot at full strength. Then put me on ship-toship."
"Aye, sir, but I can't promise they're listening."
"I'll take that chance. Oh, and the moment I get to five, fire."
"You're on intership, Captain," said Boyajian, "but what did you mean by—?"
Calhoun didn't give him the opportunity to finish the question. Instead, in a no-nonsense tone, he said, "Attention alien vessel. This is Captain Calhoun of the Federation starship Excalibur.Your attack is unprovoked. We will give you to the count of five to back off, or we will open fire."
Understanding the earlier order, Boyajian's finger hovered over the firing control.
And Calhoun, without hesitation, said, "One . . . two . . . five."
Boyajian fired the phaser reflexively upon hearing the command, acting so automatically that the phasers had already been unleashed before he realized that a few numbers had been missing in the countdown.
The phasers lashed out, striking the attacking vessel directly in the section that Soleta had suggested. The attacker rocked wildly, the phasers coruscating off the shields.
"Direct hit," Boyajian reported. "Their shields held, but I don't think they were particularly thrilled."
"I didn't expect to damage them," said Calhoun. "Not with a three-second burst."
"A warning shot," Shelby realized. "To let them know that we've targeted a vulnerable area."
Calhoun nodded, and that was when Boyajian said, "We're getting an incoming hail, sir."
"Good. Let them sweat a few moments before putting them on."
In a low voice so as not to sound openly questioning of her superior officer in front of the rest of the bridge crew, Shelby murmured, "If you wanted to warn them, you could have fired at half-strength. Perhaps even fired across their path rather than an invasive direct strike."
"If I have a bow and arrow, Commander, I don't shoot a padded shaft to my target's left in order to express my annoyance. I fire a steel-tipped arrow into his leg. That's my idea of a warning shot."
"You're the Gandhi of the spaceways, Captain."
He smiled and then said, "Put me on with them, Boyajian."
"You're on, sir."
"This is Captain Calhoun of the Excalibur,"he said. "Identify yourselves and prepare to stand down from hostilities. Otherwise I can assure you that you will not leave this confrontation in one piece."
The screen shimmered for a moment, and the commander (presumably) of the opposing vessel appeared.
Although distinguishing gender was frequently a bit problematic in any first encounter, the Excalibur'sopponent looked distinctly female. Moreover, by Earth standards she appeared almost angelic. She was hairless, her skin golden, her brow slightly distended in a manner that was—amazingly enough—still attractive. It was difficult to make out the color of her eyes, but when she tilted her head they seemed to glow with an almost purple sheen. When she spoke, her voice had a vibrato to it that gave it a somewhat musical quality.
"I am Laheera of Nelkar," she replied. "Do you wish to discuss terms of your surrender?"
"Surrender?" Calhoun cast a skeptical glance at Shelby as if to say, Do you hear this?He looked back to Laheera. "You expect me—a Starfleet captain— to surrender my vessel on our maiden voyage to the first opponent who looks to pose a challenge? Sorry. That's not my style."
"And is your style trespass, then? We know your type, Calhoun," said Laheera. Her voice was such that, even when annoyed, she had a tone of amusement to her. "Our once-orderly sector is now subject to the attentions of scavengers and pirates. People who will take every opportunity to ravage us, to feed on helplessness. We must protect ourselves."
"I can appreciate that," replied Calhoun, "but you've misjudged us. We're here only to help."
"How do we know? Why, there is a transport vessel right next to you that is empty and damaged. How do we know you haven't picked it clean of whatever it might have had to offer?"