Smiling despite herself, Khatami said, “That won’t be necessary, Doctor. My compliments to you and your staff. As for the billeting situation, Commander Stano is taking care of that, but this will have to do for now. Make sure they have access to whatever they want or need from ship’s stores.”
“All the reconstituted chicken they can eat,” Leone replied. “They were better off with radiation poisoning. Anyway, that’s my report.”
“Thanks, Tony,” Khatami said as the doctor turned and made his way back to where his staff had set up a central point for treating the Roanoke’s passengers.
“He’s always going to be like that, isn’t he?” Stano said, eyeing Leone as he went back to work. “I mean, I knew he could be a smart-ass, but all the time?”
Khatami replied, “Yes, and I like him that way, Kathy, so leave him be.” She knew from experience that Anthony Leone’s attitude was a gauge not just to the state of the crew but of any other situation in which he found himself. So long as the doctor maintained his sense of humor, things were not as bad as they might seem.
“Whatever you say, Captain,” Stano replied, obviously unconvinced but apparently unwilling to press the matter further.
Sighing, Khatami reached up to wipe her eyes, which still stung from lack of sleep. She had been awakened by Stano with the report about the distress call from the Roanoke,a colony transport ship en route from Alpha Centauri to Pacifica, one of the more popular destinations for settlers in the Taurus Reach. The Endeavourhad tracked following the coordinates provided by the ship’s captain, Zachary Clavell, to find the Roanokeadrift in space, its life-support systems damaged and its engines destroyed. The vessel’s complement of fourteen crew and ninety-six colonists had been at the end of their rope, the onboard supply of oxygen all but depleted by the time the Endeavourarrived. Quick work by the starship’s transporter crews had taken care of the immediate danger, beaming over every person from the Roanoke,after which security and medical personnel had coordinated the transfer of evacuees from the Endeavour’s emergency and cargo transporters to the hangar deck.
According to the Roanoke’s captain, the ship had come under fire from a lone Klingon battle cruiser, the assault taking out the life-support systems and disabling the engines. Rather than destroying the transport vessel outright or even boarding her for the purpose of looting her cargo, the Klingon commander seemed satisfied to condemn the injured ship’s crew and passengers to a slow, lingering death from freezing or asphyxiation, whichever came first.
Angered by the wanton callousness of the attack, Khatami shook her head. “Where is Captain Clavell?”
Stano pointed and waved. A short, burly man dressed in an orange jumpsuit and black boots returned the gesture and made his way in short order.
“Captain Khatami,” the man said, extending his hand. “I’m Zach Clavell, captain of the Roanoke.You have no idea how happy we were to see you.”
Khatami shook the man’s hand, noting how tired he looked. The skin beneath his red-rimmed eyes was dark and puffy, and he had not shaved in several days. His hands and face were dirty, as was his unkempt hair, and there were stains and even a couple of tears in his jumpsuit. Khatami made a point not to wipe her hand on her trousers. “Glad to be of service, Captain. Can you tell me what happened?”
Blowing out a deep breath, Clavell replied, “We’d heard about some of the trouble out here, of course, but the route we were taking to Pacifica had been approved by Starfleet. My understanding is that it’s well traveled and frequently patrolled. Space is still pretty big, I guess.” He shrugged. “Anyway, we picked up the Klingon ship on our long-range sensors, and it came up on us pretty fast. We received a hail and were ordered to drop out of warp. Since we don’t have weapons and there was no way we were going to outrun them, I ordered us to drop to sublight.”
As he spoke, his gaze cast downward toward the deck, he put his hands into the hip pockets of his jumpsuit. Khatami recognized the look; it was the posture of a man who believed himself to have failed. In this case, Clavell affected the look of a ship master who had not succeeded in maintaining the safety of his vessel and crew. Never mind that the situation was out of his control and that he had been outmatched against the Klingon ship. It was a sensation nothing could alleviate.
I know how he feels,Khatami thought, recalling once again the day she had been forced by tragic circumstance into the position of commanding the Endeavour.Not a single moment had passed since the death of Zhao Sheng that she did not compare herself to her late captain. On many of those occasions, she found herself falling short, but it only motivated her to keep reaching for that standard, impossibly high as it may have been.
“What happened next?” Khatami asked when Clavell paused, obviously uncomfortable with recounting the incident.
“We’d just dropped out of warp when the first attack hit. Our engines were knocked out with their first salvo. From then, we were even more helpless than we’d already been. We watched as the ship circled us, as though its captain was sizing us up before deciding to board us or just finish the job and destroy us.” He stopped, swallowing. “I never served in Starfleet, and I’ve never been shot at before. I don’t mind saying I’ve never been as scared as I was right then.”
“It’s okay,” Stano said, reaching out and placing a hand on the man’s shoulder.
After a moment, Clavell nodded. “Then they shot at us again, and I got a report from my chief engineer telling me they’d knocked out life support. Now the clock was ticking. More than a hundred people onboard, sucking oxygen, and the temperature set to start dropping? You know how that goes. Then we get another hail. This time he identifies himself as Captain Kutal, and his ship is called the Zin’zaor something like that.” When Khatami bristled at the name, Clavell took notice. “You know him?”
“More that we know ofhim,” Khatami corrected. “He’s been making something of a reputation for himself in the Taurus Reach.” Kutal and his ship, the Zin’za,had been at Jinoteur when the Shedai apparently caused the system to vanish. As a consequence of that, the Klingon Empire knew far more than the Federation would like about the Shedai and the potential harbored by their technology.
Nice understatement there,Khatami mused. Maybe you’re still sleepy.
“So,” Stano said, “they just left you there?”
Clavell nodded. “Kutal said it was an unfortunate misunderstanding, that their sensors mistook us for an enemy ship. He didn’t really seem all that choked up about the ‘confusion,’ of course. Naturally, there were no offers to help, though he said he’d be happy to finish the job if that’s what we wanted. Then the communication ended, and they just flew away, leaving us there, adrift and bleeding our atmosphere into space.” He paused, covering his mouth as he coughed. “If you hadn’t heard our distress call…”
“But we did, and everyone’s safe now,” Khatami said. “We’ll get you to Pacifica.”
Clavell replied, “That was supposed to be my job.”
“And you’ll finish that job,” Stano said. “You never had a chance against a Klingon cruiser. In fact, you’re lucky he didn’t just cut you to pieces without saying a word.”
“I suppose,” Clavell said. He looked up from the deck and gestured over his shoulder. “Captain, I appreciate everything you and your crew have done for us, but if it’s all right with you, I’d like to check on my injured.”