“Range?” he barked, feeling the rush of expectation as the time for battle approached. Leaning forward in his chair, he studied the immense Federation space station now depicted on the bridge’s central viewing screen.
“Twelve thousand qelI’qamsand closing, Captain,” replied his tactical officer, Lieutenant Tonar. “Sensors show that the station’s deflector-shield generators and weapons systems are online.”
On the viewer, the image of the station was overlaid with a series of bright red indicators and other telemetry that offered tactical information about the station as relayed from the Zin’za’s sensors. The outpost, one of the Federation Starfleet’s newest and most advanced models, was by all accounts more than capable of defending itself against an enemy attack such as the one it currently faced. Of course, the station had not yet endured the ferocity of a Klingon battle squadron, an oversight Kutal intended to correct in the coming moments.
As for the quartet of vessels maneuvering into a defensive formation between the station and Kutal’s squadron, tactical scans showed that only one of the ships, the Earthers’ closest equivalent to a battle cruiser, appeared to pose any significant threat. Of course, as an experienced veteran of space combat, Kutal knew that a ship’s fighting prowess was predicated as much—if not more—on the ability of its crew and the ingenuity of its commander as on its simple technical capabilities. Further, he had seen more than one Earther ship and its master emerge from battle with victories that should have been beyond their reach. That included the battle cruiser that he and his strike force now faced. Kutal vowed that there would be no underestimating his enemy on this day.
“Captain,” called out Lieutenant Kreq, the Zin’za’s communications officer, from his station along the bridge’s left bulkhead, “the space station is attempting to hail us.”
Kutal released a low grunt. “Of course they are. Earthers love to talk,” he said, sneering as he cast a look over his shoulder to the back of the bridge and the lone figure standing alone there and observing the proceedings. “It seems to be an embedded genetic disposition of their species.”
The time for talk had passed. As far as Kutal was concerned, diplomats had already spent far too long delaying what should have been allowed to happen in the first place. Even after it had become clear that the Earthers would present an obstacle to Klingon expansion, the High Council had continued to squander repeated opportunities to vanquish the Federation Starfleet. Studying early battles such as those fought at Donatu V, Axanar, and Kolm-an, to name but a few, and even more recent encounters had shown Kutal where the mistakes had been committed. Even the more recent encounters—including ones in which he had participated—revealed a criminal misjudgment of the Earthers’ tenacity and resolve. One day, the Council would have to realize that the only way to deal with the humans was to unleash the full might of the empire in a merciless, unrelenting campaign that could only end with the Earthers and their allies crushed for all time.
Perhaps, after months of repeated delays and other stalling tactics, today was that day.
“Execute envelopment formation to’qiL maH!” Kutal barked, emphasizing the command by punching the air with his fist. “Activate the tactical display!”
The image on the main viewer shifted as Tonar complied with the order, now offering a computer-generated schematic that depicted the space station and its quartet of defense ships as well as the Zin’zaand the five other battle cruisers of Kutal’s strike force.
“Target their lead ship with all weapons,” he called out. Overcoming the other vessels would be far easier if the most powerful of the Starfleet ships could be disabled or destroyed at the outset. Once that was accomplished, firepower could then be concentrated on the station itself. Whatever armaments it might have, it was still an immobile target, ultimately vulnerable to the sweeping attacks that would be inflicted by his strike force. Kutal smiled. Patience and persistence would rule the day.
He was so caught up in the activities unfolding around him as his ship prepared for battle that it took an additional moment for the captain to realize that his seat was growing warmer. The heat penetrated the thick material of his uniform, gaining intensity with each passing heartbeat. He rose from his chair, growling in confusion and annoyance. “What is this?”
The reply to his question came in the form of everyone on the bridge jerking back from the stations, a few of them cursing or barking as they held their hands up and away from their bodies. Kutal now could see waves of heat radiating from nearly every surface across the bridge, the heat continuing to grow more oppressive in the confined space.
Much to his own disgust, Kutal flinched at the sound of a soft, whining hum that began to permeate the bridge. His eyes narrowing in suspicion, the captain searched for the source of the noise but saw nothing out of the ordinary. The volume of the droning increased to the point where it became uncomfortable, as though a sonic weapon were being aimed at his head.
“Are we under attack?” he asked, shouting to be heard.
Tonar shook his head. “We must be, but I do not know how, Captain. Our weapons and shields have deactivated, as if by themselves!” He pointed to his tactical console. “The Earther vessels have also been disabled. I cannot explain it!”
Finally, the sound began to fade, only to be replaced with a sphere of light that simply appeared before the forward viewing screen and began to grow and stretch into a humanoid shape. To their credit, several of Kutal’s warriors drew their weapons, but he commanded them to hold their fire—for the moment, at least.
“What is this trickery?” Tonar asked, his disruptor in his hand and aimed at the mysterious intruder.
When the glow faded, revealing what appeared to be a bearded human dressed in drab clothing, it was obvious to the captain that a real being did not stand before him. Instead, it appeared more as a vision, a ghostlike projection, but what was its source?
It was the ghost who answered.
“My name is Ayelborne, of the planet Organia,”the figure said, clasping his hands before him. “At this moment, the military forces of your empire and the Federation have converged in orbit above my planet, as well as elsewhere in space, ready, if not eager, to wage war. Were you to confine your hostilities to yourselves, we would be content to allow you to destroy each other. However, your conflict threatens millions of innocent lives, and that is something we cannot allow. All of your instruments of violence now radiate a temperature of three hundred fifty degrees. They are inoperative. These same conditions exist within both of your fleets. There will be no battle.”
Of all the impudence! Kutal felt his jaw tighten as he listened to the arrogance spewing from the mouth of this…whatever this was. An Earther? Kutal doubted it. As pompous as the Federation often projected itself to be, it did not possess the technology simply to disable an entire strike force as if by magic. Even if such power was in their grasp, why would they inflict it on their own vessels, rather than crippling just those of their enemy?
“What is this transmission’s origin?” Kutal barked.
Tonar shook his head. “I am unable to determine its source, sir. It is definitely not coming from the space station or any of the Federation ships.”
“As I stand before you now,”the interloper continued, “I also stand upon the home planet of your empire and the home planet of the Federation. Unless both sides agree to an immediate cessation of hostilities, all of your armed forces, wherever they may be, will be immediately immobilized.”
“Who is this mongrel?” Tonar shouted, pointing at the alien with his disruptor pistol. “You dare to challenge the empire?”
The query, repeated in various forms by other warriors on the bridge, was ignored by the projection. Instead, this alien from a planet Kutal did not recognize or recall from star charts or intelligence briefings continued his incessant babbling, offering a litany of spineless whining about how he and his ilk would rather refrain from interfering in the affairs of others but now felt they had no choice but to foist their will upon the empire and the Earthers. He also offered assurances that there would be further contact, during which these Organians would clarify their position and the ultimatum they had levied.