Chapter Four

Captain’s Personal Log.

The board is set; all the pieces are in place for the coming contest. Europa is as ready as we can make her, and the crew is single-minded in their focus on the mission ahead. I wish I were as well… but I’m plagued by doubts and fears of what lies in wait for us. My concern isn’t merely for the crew, but for what failure on our part could mean for the Alpha Quadrant.

Standing on my own two feet, responsible for none but myself, I am undeniably formidable. This isn’t hubris, but hard fact underscored by my still drawing breath after everything the universe has thrown at me. Yet, I feel as though I must expand beyond myself and spread all that I am into an impossibly thin layer in an effort to encompass and protect this ship and crew. In so doing, I become vulnerable. Decades of refusing promotion, of deferring responsibility, all to avoid this damning weakness that now consumes me.

The system and situation we’re heading for are promising, obviously, but something deep in my marrow tells me that we’ll find Donald there with his warrior clan. I’m not sure how or why, but it’s a sense of certainty that I’m unable to shake.

Even if we locate him, will anything remain of the man I remember… of my friend? I fear that I may find him only to discover he has become as twisted by the Amon as Ramirez has been by the Baron. And if so, what then? Could I bring myself to destroy Donald Sandhurst?

Deities, I can’t even bring myself to say the word in reference to him… me, of all people! Kill. Will I be able to kill the only true friend I’ve known in the last hundred years?

Before this confrontation… this Dark Contact, I must put my house in order. I have neglected members of my senior staff, some out of convenience, and others out of anger. We must form a united front if we are to survive the Amon, and that effort begins with me.

End Entry

* * *

Pell glared across the ready room desk at Lar’ragos, her flinty gaze causing the exhausted El Aurian to look away first. “Pouting won’t change matters, Ojana,” he offered a bit too flippantly, even for his taste.

“You bring me on board and then restrict me from your senior staff meetings,” Pell countered in an even voice that belied the hard set of her features. “Please explain to me how that makes any sense whatsoever?”

“You’re not serving in the capacity of a senior officer here,” Lar’ragos explained as he struggled to collect the shredded remains of his patience. “You’re a diplomatic advisor in case we make contact with the Amon.”

“So, in the meantime I do what? Sit in the TOC and polish the consoles?”

“How you spend your time is your affair, Commander,” Lar’ragos deflected. “If I were in your boots, I’d be spending all my available time collating everything we know about the Amon in preparation for our genuine First Contact with them.”

Pell’s eyes remained fixed on Lar’ragos. “I did that before we’d left Galaxy Station, sir, and as I sent you my compilation of all relevant records prior to our departure, you already know that.” She sat forward in her chair, her posture inviting a candid reply. “What’s really going on here, Pava?”

He hesitated, but finally answered. “We’re heading for an inhabited planet that’s about to be overrun by two warring intruder species. The mission profile has certain… similarities to Velkohn.”

Pell nodded her understanding. “You wanted to avoid my causing a scene en route to the planet. I can respect that.”

Lar’ragos threw her a surprised look, clearly caught off guard by Pell’s sedate reaction.

“I was forced to learn a good deal of pragmatism as Worf’s XO, Captain,” Pell said by way of explanation. “The mass migration is a tragedy for everyone involved, and I’m not so naive as to think we can save everybody.” She gave Lar’ragos a sanguine expression. “It’s important to me to be of real value on this mission, aside from just being leverage to influence Donald.”

Lar’ragos raised his hands in a gesture of supplication. “Then I owe you an apology, Ojana. Given our strained history, I thought it was better to handle you with kid gloves.”

“I can be an asset, if you’ll let me,” Pell offered.

The El Aurian inclined his head. “I’d welcome that.”

* * *

Lar’ragos hopped from one river-wetted rock to the next in order to get close enough to Counselor Liu to be heard over the burbling river and the chattering of swooping bullet-head sparrows.

Liu stood waist-deep in the water, wearing hip waders. He cast the line from his fly-rod in gentle, swishing arcs above his head.

“This another North American river?” Lar’ragos asked, forced to raise the volume of his voice to be heard over nature’s cacophony.

“No,” Liu called back. “It’s a tributary of the Cochrane River on Alcent.” He gestured offhandedly to the reptilian bullet-heads that flitted back and forth above the river. “Not so many flying lizards on Earth anymore.”

Lar’ragos nodded distractedly, the gesture lost on Liu. “I’ve never been to Alpha Centauri.”

Liu continued fishing, and an awkward silence followed before Lar’ragos was moved to say, “I wanted to apologize for snapping at you during the staff meeting. It was out of line.”

Liu shrugged. “I did lay it on a bit thick, but I’d be lying if I said the moral ramifications of this mission didn’t bother me.”

“It’s a shit mission,” Lar’ragos admitted, “for all of us.”

“Apology accepted,” Liu said. “I’m sorry if I struck a nerve.”

“Some nerves are especially sensitive, even after four-hundred years.”

Another silence followed, this one more comfortable, leaving both men alone with their thoughts for a few minutes.

“You’re not Sandhurst,” Liu said finally.

“I never claimed to be.”

Liu turned to glance at Lar’ragos. “You keep trying to be, though. You played by Sandhurst’s rules in the engagement with Masada, and they handed us our asses.”

Lar’ragos’ expression soured. “I’m well aware of my failings, Counselor.”

“Then play to your strengths,” came Liu’s response. “You’re a bloodthirsty, cold-hearted bastard, Captain. That’s not a criticism, by the way, so much as an acknowledgement of your gifts. When you play against type, you stumble. When you’re so focused on following in Sandhurst’s footprints, you lose sight of the objective.”

Lar’ragos bit back an acidic reply as he was forced to concede the truth of Liu’s words to himself. “What would you recommend?”

“Be what you are,” Liu pressed.

“And what’s that?”

“They don’t send a man like you to make treaties, Captain. You’re not a scalpel for precisely excising a cancer. You’re the last option, the doomsday weapon launched to lay waste everything in your path.”

Lar’ragos digested that. “That’s quite the backhanded compliment.”

“If you want someone to blow sunshine up your ass, look elsewhere,” Liu sighed.

“You’re suggesting they sent Europa out here to do… what? Destroy the Amon outright?”

“And Sandhurst, if necessary,” Liu added. “I think Command is hoping you’ll convince Sandhurst’s tribe to make war against their countrymen, before wiping out whoever’s left standing at the end of that fight.”

A thrill of realization arced up Lar’ragos’ spine as Liu so effortlessly articulated what Lar’ragos had been unable to verbalize for days.

“When they replenished the Alpha Weapons Ramirez made off with, did Command issue us anything new?”

Lar’ragos closed his eyes, cursing his own lack of imagination. “As a matter of fact… yes.”

Liu called out, “Computer, end program.”

The idyllic environment vanished, leaving both men standing within a naked holodeck.

“There’s your answer then, Captain.” Liu walked towards the exit, pausing as the heavy doors parted with a pneumatic sigh. “If the radiance of a thousand suns were to burst at once into the sky, that would be like the splendor of the mighty one,” Liu quoted from the Bhagavad Gita. “Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.”

He left Lar’ragos alone on the holodeck, the younger man’s prophetic words ringing in his ears.


* * *

The main viewer was awash in the swirling infinity-point perspective of transwarp as Europa tunneled through the void between dimensions at nearly a dozen times her rated maximum speed.

“Two minutes until deceleration marker,” Lightner advised from the Helm.

“Acknowledged,” Lar’ragos replied evenly, sparing an approving glance toward Ashok at the Engineering board. “As good as your word, Lieutenant.”

The Bolian looked up from his panel to receive the praise with his typical reticence. “You may want to wait until we’ve successfully translated back to normal space, Captain.”

“I’d call shortening an eleven day trip at warp nine-point-nine to a little over eight hours a success, Mister Ashok. You’ll have to forgive my enthusiasm.”

Ashok turned back to his readouts. “So noted, sir.”

“Shields on hot standby, precautionary,” Wu alerted from her seat to Lar’ragos’ right. Cool and efficient, Wu remained the crew’s stolid anchor, balancing Pava’s impetuousness.

“Mister Shanthi, status of our sensor grid?” Lar’ragos queried.

“Standing by to scan known Amon subspace frequencies for any signs of their energy collection satellites, sir,” came the young scientist’s prompt reply.

Unlike typical warp propulsion, travel through transwarp space left a vessel immune to the potentially devastating shear of planetary and stellar gravity wells. Thus, a ship could drop out of transwarp in orbit of a planet instead of limping into a system at impulse speeds or risking a potentially lethal warp-engine imbalance.

Europa had successfully tested the drive on two shorter jumps in preparation for this, the final leg of their outbound journey to the system containing the Class-M world of Alanthal.

“Here we go,” Lightner urged. “Hang on to your hats.”

The viewer blinked from the shifting kaleidoscope of a transwarp corridor to the orbital view of a mottled, blue-green sphere. A collision alarm wailed unexpectedly, Europa’s automated systems throwing the ship hard over into a half-impulse turn far faster than humanoid reaction time would have allowed.

“Report!” Lar’ragos called out.

“Debris,” Kirk advised from Ops. “Duranium and tritanium elements… “

“It’s a wing,” Shanthi finished. “Contemporary Klingon design, from a Bird-of-Prey, B'rel-class.

Kirk’s sudden intake of breath drew Lar’ragos’ attention. “Multiple sensor contacts, sir. Klingon warships, numerous classes and configurations.” Her hands flitted across her control board. “Picking up additional debris in significant quantities.”

Lar’ragos appeared at a loss for words, but finally managed to blurt, “What in the hell is going on here?”

Shanthi turned towards the captain from his place at the Science station. “I’m seeing signs of intensive space combat in the vicinity of the planet, sir. The flotsam is consistent with the constituent elements of vessels from both intruder formations as well as Klingon technology.”

Lar’ragos turned to Wu, his expression one of uncharacteristic confusion. “I don’t understand,” he hissed in a low tone. “How did the Klingons get here before us?”

“Immaterial,” she countered in an equally subdued voice. “We must respond to the fact that they are here, and have apparently initiated hostilities with the intruder groups.”

“There’s an audio message in linga-code broadcasting in the open from the planet, Captain,” Kirk noted.

“I thought they were pre-warp,” Pell Ojana offered from the seat to Pava’s left. “Now they’ve suddenly got subspace radio technology?”

Lar’ragos waved a hand dismissively, becoming overwhelmed at the influx of conflicting information. “Let’s hear the message.”

“Be it known to all who approach this world, Alanthal is now under the protection of the Klingon Expeditionary Force. Its people and resources are guarded by the full faith and arms of our empire. If you wish to die with glory, we await you. Otherwise, seek your resources elsewhere.”

Lar’ragos winced, holding a hand to his head as if suffering the onset of a sudden headache. “This doesn’t make any damn sense,” he murmured. Then, louder, he ordered, “Get me some answers, people.”

“That’s quite a bit more articulate than I’d expected,” Counselor Liu remarked from where he sat at an auxiliary console. In response to Lar’ragos’ baleful glare, he added, “The Klingon transmission, I mean, sir. Typically they don’t say more than ‘stay out or die.’”

Wu turned a concerned expression on Lar’ragos, who seemed increasingly addled. “Sir, are you…”

Lar’ragos extended an unsteady hand to clasp Wu’s upper arm gently. “I—I’ll be fine. Something’s… wrong, though.”

“Incoming transmissions on multiple Starfleet emergency frequencies.” Kirk glanced over her shoulder to where Lar’ragos struggled to get his bearings. “Inquiries, status requests, and even an emergency beacon remote activation code.” She frowned in confusion. “Some of these were sent weeks ago.”

Lightner glanced over at the Ops station from his position at the Helm. “What’s the time stamp on those—oh.”

“Shit,” Kirk breathed, finishing the sentiment for him.

“Report,” Wu ordered as Lar’ragos fought to find his voice.

“According to the time-beacon imprint on these transmissions, it appears we’ve arrived in the system approximately thirty-seven days later than we projected, Commander.”

Lightner looked back from the Helm. “We’ve lost… more than a month?” His voice was incredulous.

“That would explain my temporal hangover,” Lar’ragos muttered. He forced himself to his feet, walking unsteadily to brace his hands on the backs of the Helm and Ops seats. He called back to Ashok without looking in the Bolian's direction. "Lieutenant, it appears either your calculations were off or my praise was premature. Either way, I’ll expect a full report in no less than six hours.”

Lar'ragos turned his attention to the Ops officer. “Identify the flagship,” he ordered, sounding as though he already knew the answer.

Kirk sorted through the active transponders of dozens of Klingon vessels sharing Alanthal’s orbit. “The She’v-Ja, sir.”

“Legacy,” Lar’ragos translated, his expression growing taut. “Gan’Louk’s ship.” He looked back to Shanthi at the Science station. “Kuenre, where’s their command-and-control located?”

A moment passed as Shanthi swept the planet and inner system with Europa’s potent sensor array. “I’ve detected Klingon C-&-C communications and data traffic coming from what appears to be a nation-state capital on the surface. I’m also reading several hundred Klingon life-signs in the vicinity of the control center.”

Lar’ragos began making his way shakily towards the turbolift.

Wu stood, clearly uncomfortable with Lar’ragos’ intended departure. “Captain? Your orders, sir?”

Lar’ragos braced himself against a support column just shy of the turbolift doors. “Bring us within transporter range. I’m going down there to have a private conversation with the brigadier.”

The XO moved close to Lar’ragos, whispering, “With all due respect, Captain, I think our priority should be making contact with Galaxy Station and checking in.”

Lar’ragos snapped his fingers in Kirk’s direction. “Ops, what’s our subspace time-debt to Galaxy Station?”

The woman’s reply was swift and succinct. “Comms time delay is two hours, twenty-seven minutes, sir.”

Lar’ragos gestured in Kirk’s direction. “See, you can call HQ and let them know we’re back in play while I’m attending to business planet-side. It’ll be five hours before we receive a reply and new orders, anyway.”

Lar’ragos turned to step into the lift, and was momentarily startled to see Counselor Liu standing in the car awaiting his arrival. He was not an easy man to sneak up on, and Liu knew Lar’ragos must be very out-of-sorts for him to have been caught so unawares.

The doors slid shut and Liu took the opportunity to speak before Lar’ragos could silence him. “You’re being somewhat rash, sir. Perhaps unnecessarily so.”

“Captain’s prerogative,” was Pava’s only reply before ordering the ‘lift to Deck 5.

“It’s clear you’re feeling the effects of something, sir,” Liu observed. “Is now really the best time to be making impulsive decisions regarding the Klingons? I’d remind you that you recently sullied the personal honor of three of them, as well as publicly embarrassed the very general you’re so set on confronting at the moment.”

“The Klingons have made a hash of this whole First Contact,” Lar’ragos practically snarled. “They’ve violated the Prime Directive by revealing themselves to a pre-warp civilization, and they’ve completely undercut any opportunity of our making diplomatic overtures to either of the encroaching alien fleets.”

Liu nodded reasonably, as if giving Lar’ragos’ words due consideration. Then he parried, “Respectfully, sir, the Klingons aren’t bound by the Prime Directive and you know that. Additionally, the inbound alien groups were due to make planetfall on Alanthal prior to our arrival, meaning that the natives would have already been made painfully aware of other spacefaring civilizations.”

Lar’ragos opened his mouth to make counterpoints, but Liu beat him to the draw.

“And we’re sitting on an arsenal of conventional and Alpha weapons that we were prepared to use against the intruder species when we left Galaxy Station, so your complaint that the Klingons ruined our chances at peaceful contact is more than a bit disingenuous.” Liu followed this up with a pleasant smile that only grated on Pava’s raw nerves all the more. “In fact, the resulting bloodbath here may make this system even more enticing to the Amon.”

Lar’ragos broke eye contact with Liu as the turbolift doors opened. “You’re not privy to the full picture here, Counselor.”

Liu followed Lar’ragos out into the corridor, falling into step beside the smaller man as the El Aurian made his way towards the nearest transporter room. “Please enlighten me, sir.”

“This is a personal matter between Gan’Louk and I. An old disagreement that he’s using as fuel to drive this little public relations stunt of his.”

Liu appeared openly skeptical. “Captain, what kind of personal feud would incite a noted Klingon hero to conquer a Level-4 pre-warp culture while simultaneously starting a war with two previously unknown intruder species?”

Lar’ragos drew up just short of the doors to the transporter room, turning a severe expression on Liu. It was evident he did not intend for the counselor to follow him inside. “Only the worst kind of vendetta for a Klingon...” Lar’ragos stepped across the threshold and as the doors began to close he added, “A family one.”

* * *