“Oh, most definitely, sir.” Suddenly, Ekron-the-statue was back. A part of Monor missed it, but he also was heartened to see that Ekron recognized that there was a time and place for that sort of thing. “The zenite readings are confirmed, and there’s also a good deal of arable land on the other continent.” The planet, Monor remembered, had two major landmasses, as well as several smaller ones, and two massive oceans. “Besides, this star system puts us in a good jumping-off position for the Klingon Empire and the Federation. I think it will make a fine addition to Cardassia, sir.”
Monor smiled as he turned to sit in his chair. Then, remembering the squeak, he stopped and settled for standing on the step in front of it. “That’s what I want to hear, Glinn, that’s most definitely what I want to hear. Good work. Get a message to Central Command, tell them to send some ships over here.”
“Yes, sir.” Ekron turned to give the order to the officer at the communications console, then looked back at Monor. “One other thing, sir.”
“What is it, Glinn?”
“It’s possible that the ocean might be a suitable place to transplant the hevrit.”
Monor frowned. He hadn’t known this about Ekron. “Glinn, I’m as much an animal lover as the next man, but I’ll not have this ship being used for the propaganda—”
“Sir, with all due respect, the hevritare dying out. None of the waters on Cardassia are fit for most marine life now, least of all the hevrit.We’ll be able to preserve one of the greatest treasures of Cardassia—and one of the finest delicacies.”
Shaking his head, Monor said, “If you wish to investigate the possibility while surveying the planet more thoroughly, Ekron, go ahead, I won’t stop you, but it better not interfere with the full survey. Our primary concern is the greater good of Cardassia, not the greater good of Cardassian fish, do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. I don’t want people to think of this world as the place where we saved a few fish, I want people to think of this world as the place where we found a new source of zenite that will make life better for Cardassians all across the Union. That’s why we’re here, dammit!”
“Of course, sir.”
Hoping it wouldn’t start another lengthy diatribe, Monor asked, “Anything else about that Forehead wreck?”
“Only that most of the wreckage is well buried, sir. It would take a great deal of specialized equipment to get most of it out. Based on the scans we took, what we found only recently resurfaced due to changing tidal patterns on that beach. If we’d arrived here a year ago, I doubt we would have found it.”
“Mmm.” Monor found he couldn’t work up more than a grunt in response to that. If nothing else, this wreck might prove useful as something to line Central Command’s coffers— maybe even enough to provide ships with command chairs that don’t squeak,he thought angrily as he sat down in his and heard it do exactly that.
“In any event, sir, we placed transporter inhibitors and force fields around the entire site.”
“Good.” The security was necessary. For now, the only message that had gone out regarding the wreckage was a coded one to Central Command, but the stars had ears bigger than those of the Ferengi, and it wouldn’t be long before privateers of all sorts showed up to see about the Klingon treasure. The Sontokcould provide security against obvious threats; the force fields and inhibitors would work for those who worked more subtly.
Ten hours later, Central Command had confirmed that a fleet of survey vessels, escorted by the Third Order, was en route. Ekron and a team had done a more detailed survey of the planet’s surface, which confirmed everything the preliminary readings stated—or improved upon them. The amount of zenite was impressive, and the world was rich in other minerals that were more common, but no less useful and/or valuable for all that. Maybe I can work something out with Legate Zarin,Monor thought, get a piece of prime land on this world cheap now and reap the profits for my retirement. Not getting any younger, after all, and it’d be nice to have somewhere to take the grandchildren.Monor had seven children and three times as many grandchildren, and he suspected that an exotic location like this would appeal to most of them as a vacation spot. Well, maybe not Aris and her irritating little brood, but if she doesn’t come with that idiot she married, all the better for the rest of us.
Ekron then suddenly cried out, “Sir, three Klingon Birds-of-Prey decloaking!”
If he had been asked to compose a list of sentences he expected his second-in-command to utter, Monor doubted that those words would have even been put on it. “What the hell are the Foreheads doing here?” This was unclaimed space, after all, not really that close to the Empire—though it was hardly the heart of the Union, either—and, their new discovery notwithstanding, the Klingons had never shown any interest in the sector before. “Defensive posture,” he added. “How soon until the Third Order arrives?”
“Another day at present speed,” Ekron said.
“Get a message to them, tell them to get here as fast as possible.”
“Sir, the survey vessels—”
“Will be useless in a fight,” Monor said tightly, sitting in his chair and ignoring the damn squeak. “Think with your brain instead of your neck ridges, Ekron. Survey vessels don’t matter a damn right now if the Foreheads want to take us on.”
“Yes, sir.” Ekron looked down at his console. “Sir, the Klingons are generating a jamming field. I can’t guarantee the message got out. And they’re arming disruptors.”
“Take aim at the lead ship and fire.”
“Sir, they haven’t—”
“The Foreheads don’t decloak like that unless they mean to kill us,” Monor snapped. “Fire on them!”
Ekron followed his orders, and phaser fire slammed into one of the Birds-of-Prey’s shields.
“Evasive maneuvers. Give us some distance, and get us the hell out of orbit.”
“Birds-of-Prey are trying to hem us in, sir. And they’re firing.”
The Sontokfelt the impact of the Klingon disruptor fire. Monor checked his display. The Klingons were surrounding them on three sides, blocking all the best avenues for escape.
Fine, we’ll take one of the worst ones.He quickly calculated the course necessary to achieve the proper angle. Haven’t done this in years, and it was with a ship a lot smaller than this one.
“Set course 113 mark 9—and yes,Ekron, I know that’ll take us further into the atmosphere. Specifically, it’ll take us in at an angle to bounce off the atmosphere.”
“Laying in course now, sir,” Ekron said, stock still as ever.
“When I give the word,” Monor said, “adjust attitude and pitch by forty-five degrees.” He waited, watching the readings on the screen in front of him.
Another impact. “Shields are down to forty percent, sir.”
“Are they pursuing us into the atmosphere?”
Ekron nodded. “Yes, sir, but Birds-of-Prey are atmospheric craft.”
“Can’t be helped, Glinn.” Ideally, the pursuing ships would either avoid the atmosphere or risk being damaged by it—but these smaller Klingon ships were designed to withstand such friction. “Adjust angle!”
The ship lurched, as the Sontokmade a course change not mandated by the instruments, and therefore slowing the reaction time of the inertial dampeners and artificial gravity. The ship then shot out of orbit at nearly full impulse.
“Set ship’s course to match,” Monor said. No sense fighting where the ricochet was taking them.
“Now at 94 mark 2, seven-eighths impulse speed.” Ekron looked up at Monor. “The Klingons are pursuing.”