K’mpec thought the councillor was jumping ahead of himself a bit. “And if we do not find the Boklar?”
Kravokh shrugged. “Then we will demand it through channels. We have proof now, after all. I want that proof sealed, Captain—under the best protection your guards can give it. And no matter what it takes, I want that ship intact and its gul alive, even if you are to leave Klingon space, am I understood?”
“It will be done.”
“Good.”
After Kravokh cut off the connection, K’mpec leaned back and smiled. His ambitions had always stretched far beyond that of the captain’s chair, and currying favor with Kravokh—who was looking more and more to be the favorite to succeed the ailing Ditagh—could only benefit K’mpec now.
At least, the reports were that Ditagh was ailing. He had been less and less visible over the past few months—though some argued that he was already insubstantial, so becoming invisible was not much of a stretch. The current chancellor seemed to be in favor of strengthening the Empire but had never actually implemented any plan to do so. Kravokh, at least, had the welfare of the Empire in mind, though he seemed to think the restoration of Ch’gran would do the most good to restore the Empire to greatness. K’mpec wasn’t so sure—but he also knew that losing Ch’gran would be a disaster.
K’mpec also questioned the wisdom of pursuing the Boklarout of Klingon jurisdiction. True, most of the space between here and Cardassia was either unclaimed or belonged to the Federation, but engaging the Boklarafter they left Klingon territory would muddy the issue. They needed to take the Boklarin Empire space.
Mogh’s voice came over the intercom. “Sir, we have picked up theBoklar on long-range sensors. They are on course for Cardassian space, but still within our borders.”
“Can we catch them before they cross the border?”
“Yes, sir, if we increase to warp eight.”
“Anh!” he grunted, then moved quickly to the bridge. We will get them,he thought gleefully.
As K’mpec entered the bridge, the pilot said, “Speed increasing to warp eight.”
Standing next to the operations console, Mogh added, “At this rate, we will overtake the Boklarin three minutes—long before they reach the border.”
“Arm torpedoes, and fire a minimal spread at their engines as soon as they are within range.” He turned to face the gunner, a heavy-ridged older lieutenant with gray-and-white hair, and spoke in a quiet tone, enunciating every word even more than usually. “The ship is to be taken intact.If it is not, I will hold youresponsible.”
“Sir!” the lieutenant said quickly, understanding that the penalty for the Boklarbeing destroyed would be the gunner’s own life.
Mogh then approached the command chair and spoke quietly to K’mpec. “Sir, the Akril-class vessels have impressive firepower. I do not doubt the ability of the Pu’Bekhto win any battle, but if we hamstring ourselves—”
Matching Mogh’s quiet tones, K’mpec interrupted. “Our orders are to take the Boklarintact and bring Gul Onell back to the Homeworld for trial.”
“Sir, we have the sensor logs from the relay. What need do we have to keep these Cardassian animals alive?”
K’mpec’s instinct was to remind the commander of his place and of the foolishness of questioning his orders. But K’mpec also preferred underlings who thought for themselves. The question being, is Mogh thinking for himself, or thinking only of the vengeance he claims he does not feel the urge to undertake?This bloodthirstiness was completely understandable—the Cardassians had, after all, invaded—but may have had ulterior motives. Either way, K’mpec felt the need to explicate. “Do not underestimate the power of a living witness and of physical evidence, Commander. We can tamper with our own sensor logs, after all.”
Mogh nodded, in seeming understanding. “I withdraw my objection, Captain.”
“Weapons range in thirty seconds,” called out the gunnery lieutenant.
“Prepare to fire,” Mogh said with a smile.
“In range.”
Clenching his fist, Mogh cried, “Fire!”
K’mpec watched as the torpedoes traveled through the distortion of warp space, traversing the gap between the Pu’Bekhand the Boklar,then striking the latter ship’s shields, disrupting them.
“Direct hit. They are coming out of warp.”
“Stay with them, pilot,” Mogh barked. “Arm disruptors and raise shields.”
From the operations console, the officer posted there said, “They are hailing us.”
A rumble sounded in K’mpec’s throat. “I have nothing to say to invaders.”
The officer smiled. “Sir!”
“Coming about,” the pilot said.
“Fire!”
Disruptor fire now struck the Boklar’s shields even as the Cardassians fired their own phasers at the Pu’Bekh.
“Shields down to ten percent!” The gunnery lieutenant’s voice was tinged with surprise and outrage.
“It would seem the Cardassians have improved their arsenal.” K’mpec pounded a fist on the armrest of his chair. “Damage to the Boklar?”
“Minimal, sir.”
“We must bring down their shields. Continuous fire.”
Disruptors and torpedoes burst forth from the Pu’Bekh’s weapons arrays, pounding at the Boklar’s shields. The disruptors finally brought the shields down, with the final torpedo striking the Cardassian vessel’s hull.
A cheer went up from around the bridge, even as more Cardassian phaser fire struck the Pu’Bekh.
Consoles then sparked around the bridge. “Shields dow—” the gunner started before the deckplates behind him exploded in what sounded to K’mpec’s veteran ears like a plasma fire. K’mpec turned to see that the gunner had been thrown halfway across the bridge and into a bulkhead. Mogh, to his credit, immediately ran to take the gunner’s position.
“Programming torpedo pattern,” he said.
The gunner managed to clamber back up and return to his post. K’mpec noted that he seemed to have even more white in his hair now. “Thank you, Commander.”
Mogh gave the lieutenant a curt nod and made way for him.
“Firing torpedoes and disruptors.”
Seconds later, just as the torpedoes were striking the hull of the Boklar—and after the disruptors had already started cutting through the vessel’s hull—the Cardassian ship exploded in a fiery conflagration that forced K’mpec to avert his eyes from the viewscreen momentarily.
Furious, he unholstered his hand disruptor even as he turned around to face the gunner. Growling in inarticulate rage, he fired.
The gunner’s screams seemed to echo long after his body had disintegrated.
K’mpec had no choice. He had already stated to the entire bridge that the destruction of the Boklarwould mean the gunner’s life.
Yet it had been Mogh who programmed the torpedoes’ firing pattern.
Then again, the disruptors struck theBoklar first. It is quite possible—likely even—that it was the disruptors that provided the fatal blow.
Either way, it no longer mattered. “Damage report.”
“Shields and cloak are gone,” the operations officer reported. “Multiple hull breaches on the lower decks—we have had to evacuate the entire undersection. Warp drive offline; engineering estimates a day to repair.”
“Communications?” Mogh asked.
“Functioning.”
“Good,” K’mpec said, falling more than sitting back in his command chair after reholstering his disruptor. “Make contact with the Homeworld.”