A Portent to Battle

Posted on Wed Mar 4th, 2015 @ 11:11pm by Ensign Corrine Steiner
Edited on on Thu Mar 5th, 2015 @ 2:48pm

Mission: Ill Tidings
Location: Starbase 332
Timeline: During the night.

[ON]

Corrie rolled out of her bed, tumbling to the floor. Tears flowed as her hands gripped at her tormented head. Her tech bracelet beeped and flashed red with medical warnings. "No! Stop it!"

Last time it was a prescription sedative. To mix things up and minimize dependency, this time she drank a vial of potent liqueur. As soon as she stabilized, she sat on the floor, back against her bed. Her voice was quiet and laden with fatigue, "Computer, create new analytical project, designated 'freighter raid'." A beep confirmed the action. "I am going to describe a combat situation the best that I am able to. You are to compile a profile of most probable technologies being used and participant capabilities."

==IS THIS TO BE FORMALLY REGISTERED?==

"Negative. This is a classified personal project. Do not archive."

Another beep confirmed.

Corrine Steiner then recounted every detail from her vivid, violent dream. A projection from her console began displaying data and diagrams. At the end of it all, she stared silently at the compilations for the better part of a half hour. "Computer, I want to create and execute potential tactical scenarios within the context of this profile. We will restrict according to resources which are currently available at this starbase."

Into the night, Corrie watched the simulations play out. She often halted them, "No, no, no... This won't work. Cancel and reinitialize. We'll try different parameters."

Near midnight, she paid a visit to the brig. A handful of Klingons had been locked up for the night because they had become too rowdy. It was almost a ritual, really, a regular occurrence. She spotted the one of interest and quietly pointed, "That one."

The guard released the prisoner, "Ensign, you want an escort?"

"Not necessary, thank you." She walked up to the ill tempered brute, "Gob'kick?"

He sneered with disdain, "Who wants to know?"

"Someone who has your life in her hands."

"Are you threatening me?"

"No, m'lord. I'm forewarning you. Come."

He squinted at her. This human knew Klingon courtesies. He followed out of curiosity. "I saw you with that little surrat Ferengi! He will die by my hand! If you have come to plead for him, then go home. You waste my time!"

She didn't look back at him. "Your vendetta is of no interest to me, other than a ship." Corrine led the Klingon deep into secured Ops storage, areas which had largely not been accessed recently. In the middle of the floor was a stack of cases. She began opening them, "Fusion lances... demolition charges... disruptor boosters..."

The surprised Klingon watched with wide eyes, "These are not Federation tools and equipment!"

"You're right. These were confiscated by my predecessors, here. Apparently, they were reluctant to dispose of them. That duty now involves me. I can either recycle these materials..." She turned to make solid eye contact with him, "Or I could give them to you."

Wide eyed with astonishment, Gob'kick studied her. He then threatened, "I am likely to exterminate your precious surrat with these. Do you think you can bargain for his life with these? Well you can't!"

She shook her head slightly and answered quietly, "No."

"I am losing patience! Speak!"

"I have received reliable, classified intelligence that your freighter will be attacked by a small raider ship." She held up her wrist and displayed a small hologram. "I'm not sure of the exact design, but it's similar to this Orion type. Lots of speed and power for a short time. You recognize it?"

Alarmed, the Klingon nodded.

She changed the display, "It will launch fang class boarding modules which will pierce your freighter's hull. Troops will disembark, most likely at these points. Again, I don't recognize who they are."

He leaned closer, "Nor do I, but I know what they are!"

Corrie gave a nod of relief, "Good. Here's list of some of the weapons and boarding shields that they'll be using. Whoever it is, they know how many men you have and what weapons are available to you. They've carried out tactical analyses and will attack you with sufficiently superior weapons. You won't be able to stop them." She gestured towards the crates, "But you could with these. If you were prepared, and if you moved fast enough, you could dislodge their own fangs and use them to counter board the raider."

Concurring, the Klingon nodded slowly.

Her tone became pained, "Some of your men will die. I can't prevent that."

Gob'kick sighed and folded his arms, "This does not make sense." If you know that my ship will be attacked, then this base would send escorts!"

She shrugged, "If we provide any abnormal security, then the raiders will simply wait for another time, another chance. We can't permanently assign you troops or fighter escorts."

His tone was calm, but cold. "What do you want in return? The life of the Ferengi?" He shook his head, "If you truly understand Klingon honor, then you would know not to ask that of me."

Corrie displayed another image, "Only partially. The Ferengi Choople will operate ships like this. They burn radiation wastes as fuel."

"Pfft! Pure junk!"

She readily nodded, "Very much. But these ships are very important to me. You don't touch them, even if Choople is aboard. Now if he's on a runabout or shuttle? Then that's a different story."

"Why are these..." Gob'kick stopped himself. Her solid eye contact conveyed that she wouldn't say. He toyed with her, "What if I refuse?"

"Then without these tools and weapons, you will die in a battle you have no hope of winning."

He squinted at her.

She appealed, "M'lord. It is unkind for me to remind you, but a Klingon male who serves on a freighter lives with shame. You have a chance to capture a raider ship in combat and make it your own."

He sneered, "Your Captain Von would confiscated it!"

"Yes, she would. That's why you'll never bring it anywhere near this starbase or near any space lanes patrolled by Maxwell's fighters." She stepped closer, "Think of it. You will have a vicious little fighting ship of your very own with which to escort your freighter. You will have the glory and the honor of having taken it with your own hand."

"Hmh. I suppose that I have your Captain Von to thank for this?"

"As far as you and I are concerned, after tonight this exchange never happened. What do you say, warrior? Give me your word of honor, and I give you a chance to survive with great gain."

He smiled, "I shall still crush your little surrat with my bare hands!"

She returned the grin, "You'll have to catch him, first."

Watching for any reaction or nervousness from her, the Klingon walked over and picked up a weapon. Impressed with her calmness, he walked up and brought his face close to hers, "It is done. My word is given, and these are now mine."

She gave a nod, "Let's smuggle these aboard your ship."

[OFF]

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Ens. Corrine Steiner
Klingon Gob'kick

Starbase 332
Pegasus Fleet