Before Destruction! Page 3

  The slightly scaly alien Ensign at the weapons console turned

  sluggishly toward the Commander and announced, "Defense fields

  activated; station recorder is on; all 'feet' on yellow alert."

  The ensign was a Frillian from the planet Narn. His face

  looked more reptilian than anything else, and his ever-open green

  eyes were large, with long vertical pupil slits in his iris. His

  uniform was cut to suit his unique physiognomy. He had eight

  appendages in all, and a short stub of a tail. Frillians, not

  having hands to speak of, use their long digited feet to operate

  all equipment; One set of four to grasp and manipulate, the other

  set of four to walk with. Mr. Spitt did, however, know the

  difference between 'Hands', a ship's company and 'Hands',the things

  that make it easier to pick your nose, but it pleased him to

  constantly punctuate the physiological differences between their

  species.

  "That's gettin ta be old, Mr. Spitt. Why doncha try to be a

  wee less humorous and a bit more purple."

  Frillians were red in complexion when asleep and a bright

  lavender, when fully awake. This would normally make it easy for

  one Frillian to be able to tell if another Frillian was enjoying a

  conversation or dozing through it, if it wasn't for the fact that

  their race is color-blind, and do talk a great deal in their sleep.

  Lieutenant Tomy pressed a series of buttons which allowed her

  to bring up a visual of the incoming ship on the main viewscreen.

  She snapped a fingernail pressing the last button. That did not

  bother her though, for she had already bitten most of the others off

  over the past six hours.

  "Is that the best ya kin do. I kin hardly tell the ship from

  the stars," said the Commander, squinting his blue eyes.

  "Viewer is at maximum, Sir," she said as she tried to pull the

  fingernail out from under the viewscreen resolution button.

  "Any change in speed or course?"

  "No, Sir. But they seem to be trying to skirt our position."

  She succeeded in removing the nail and tossed it nonchalantly over

  PAGE 11

  her shoulder. It landed in the Commander's coffee and sank to the

  bottom, but O'Hara's attention was elsewhere.

  "Don't eat that! It's my friend!" shouted the crimson

  Frillian.

  "Wake up, Mr. Spitt!" The Commander glared at the weapons

  officer. He swore to himself never to let the ensign work a triple

  shift again. Most of their small crew had been in and out of

  sickbay the two days past, with a curious form of 'intestinal

  disfunction of unknown origins'. Unknown to the crew, that is,

  but the outpost's doctor pulled Commander O'Hara aside and warned

  him that if he ever found any trace of laxatives in the food

  processors again, he would have to 'file a detailed report to

  Starfleet, that would be incriminating to someone on this outpost

  of command rank.'

  "Mr. Spitt!" said the Commander.

  The Frillian cocked his head, "Aye Sir, it does seem to be

  foaming at the mouths," still bearing dark red scales.

  "Mr. Tomy, send an advisory to Starfleet and our support ship.

  Tight-beam, you know the drill," spoke the Commander, still narrowly

  viewing the Frillian. "Place us on red alert while yer at it."

  "Aye Sir," she said as the Commander moved next to Mr. Spitt

  at the weapons console and readied it. The inbound ship was just

  far enough away to keep the targeting computer from getting a

  positive lock. But since the Commander was not going to blast the

  ship with the first volley, only fire a warning shot, he allowed

  the computer to continue the sequence with the inaccuracy variance,

  and fire.

  "Torpedo away," O'Hara said calmly, as this was a very

  routine procedure. At least twice a week they would get a stray

  ship with communications problems, or once and a while a contraband

  smuggler, never anything worth worrying about. Everyone knew the

  Neutral Zone Laws and the consequences of crossover. Klingons do

  not fire warning shots, and their patrol is two-fold the

  Federation's.

  "Sir, scans show the vessel is going sub-light,"

  Lieutenant Tomy said. "Their scanners must have picked up our

  warning volley. I'll tell them to prepare to be boarded."

  "Do that, lassie. How far is our support ship?"

  "I have the Schwarzkopf's ETA at seven minutes," she said

  confidently.

  "Bring us back down to yellow then, and get another officer up

  here to replace Spitt, will ya?"

  The ruby lights around the station signalling red alert

  stopped flashing and were replaced by amber... for about a second

  PAGE 12

  and a half... Then the red came on again.

  "Sir, we are being fired on!" she said with an understandable

  bit of excitement.

  "Shields up," the Commander said, maintaining his calm, "and

  don't worry, me darlin'. The Schwarzkopf is on its way. And

  remember our scanners are the best in the Federation and we

  couldn't achieve a weapons lock at this distance. I doubt they're

  likely ta come close enough ta hit the planet behind us."

  The torpedo sped towards them rapidly, closing the gap between

  the inbound craft and the outpost. True to the Commander's words,

  it was far from its target. Then it detonated. The brilliance

  rivaled, then overcame, that of their local sun and still grew in

  intensity.

  Before Delta Gamma 13's crew could know what was transpiring,

  they, like much of the planet behind them, were gone.

  PAGE 13

  *** THREE ***

  The dark grey Klingon ship came about and joined the two D-7

  cruisers, taking the point of their wing-formation. They headed

  for the ship coming out of the Federation Neutral Zone into Klingon

  space. No questions would be asked, no favors granted. The ship

  was to be destroyed.

  Kang sat in his command chair, no stranger to battle. Dark

  joy beat in his breast, as he awaited the confrontation before him.

  He was the hunter in search of his prey. His Klingon blood surged

  through him, heightening his senses, honing his awareness. He was

  lightning waiting to be unleashed.

  "Helmsman, increase speed to warp 8!" commanded Kang.

  "Increasing speed, Sir!" said the helmsman boldly, not

  revealing his nervousness at the order. He felt his ship subtly

  vibrate, as her velocity progressed and broke warp factor 8.

  The Klingonese ship's new engines were designed to exceed warp

  9, but her hull structure had yet to be modified to withstand the

  incredible force of the forward thrust at that level.

  "Warp 8 achieved!" reported the helmsman.

  "Full power to the weapons," Kang ordered.

  His ship, the Fury, was the prototype of the D-8 Predator

  class battle cruisers. Slightly less armaments adorned her than

  the D-7's trailing her but she was swifter and more maneuverable.

  A formidable and lethal weapon in the hands of one with the

  experience of 'Kang: The Destructor'.

  "Commander Kang, I am receiving many Starfleet transmissions

>   concerning a large explosion caused by an unidentified Starship.

  The sub-space transmissions are garbled and something is hindering

  reception, but the last report stated that the Starship headed into

  the neutral zone at approximately the same point we picked up the

  intruder ahead of us." Gor, the communications officer turned to

  look directly at his commander. "Sir, the explosion was described

  as 'force S.N. point 1', one tenth that of a Stellar Nova."

  "A Starfleet trick?" Kang queried.

  "I do not believe so, Sir. They are using the Federation

  Emergency channel, non-coded. Though they are clever, we have

  never known them to broadcast disinformation on the Federation

  Emergency channel," Gor stated.

  "Could it be one of ours, Sir?" the navigator asked.

  "That is probably what the Federation believes but until we

  PAGE 14

  have found a path around the Organians, we have no way of engaging

  in open hostilities." Kang leaned forward in his chair. "It is

  more than likely that this is a result of some miscreant rebel

  insurrection, spilling out of their hands and into our laps." He

  cursed the Federation under his breath. "This should be an easy

  kill; nevertheless, you do not approach a Vorshadragon from the

  front. The ship's weaponry is an unknown. It may prove prudent to

  attack from all sides." He paused in thought, then, "Mr. Gor,

  raise the Terror and Dorgok, ship to ships."

  The communications officer quickly opened a comm channel to

  the flanking ships.

  "Done, Sir. Commanders Volte and Pakor on speakers," spoke

  Gor.

  "This is Kang. Prepare to execute battle maneuver Tychon 7-k.

  Split at my command." He rested confidently back into his chair.

  "Mark!" he commanded.

  All three battle cruisers turned as if joined together by some

  invisible cable, then suddenly broke formation, each making a wide

  arc to intersect the intruder's projected position. Like three

  graceful hawks they flew, awaiting the sight of prey to make the

  kill. Farther apart, then out of each other's sight. Knowing when

  next they meet, they will share victory and taste blood.

  Kang observed the stars, their patterns, their various colors

  and degrees of luminescence. They were a majestic back-drop, he

  thought, for the battle that was ahead. He rubbed his moustache

  with his forefinger and thumb and watched the light of the heavens

  before him... Watching and waiting.

  Kang was about average size for a Klingon. Although he was a

  strong man, he had always relied on his cunning in battle, whether

  it be in hand to hand combat or ship against ship. The dark eyes,

  under his bushy eyebrows, scanned the view ahead waiting for the

  moment that his enemy would come into view. He was a warlord in

  the truest sense, a worthy adversary for any opponent. But he did

  have a heart. A heart that he kept hid from most men and a

  tenderness that he would only share with his wife. He could be the

  truest of friends to those whom he deemed worthy of his friendship,

  but one would be hard pressed to find an enemy more fierce.

  "My lord, the vessel ahead has shields up and her torpedoes

  are armed. Scans indicate that their warheads are equipped with an

  unusually unstable material that our computers cannot yet

  identify." Her eyes expressed her concern to the commander. "I

  recommend caution, my lord," said Mara, science officer and wife to

  Kang.

  Before Kang could respond, Gor broke in. "Sir, we are being

  hailed by the intruder." He placed his hand to his ear.

  "Commander, the intruder wishes to discuss terms of surrender," he

  said.

  PAGE 15

  "We are Klingons!" he reminded his Comm. officer harshly.

  "We take no prisoners."

  "But," Gor stammered.

  "Enough!" Kang ordered. Then to his helmsman, "Prepare to

  fire!"

  Kang could see the two other vessels of Klingon origin coming

  into view behind and to port of the intruder. Just as the faintest

  smile of satisfaction crossed Kang's face, the trespassing ship

  fired directly at the D-7 far to its rear.

  The Dorgok tried evasive maneuvers but the torpedo never

  needed to make contact and in an instant the Dorgok ceased to be.

  The resulting explosion was spectacular, albeit much smaller than

  the one fired on the Federation outpost. Nevertheless the

  concussive force rocked and shook both engaging cruisers and the

  intruder's vessel as well.

  On the Fury, alert claxons sounded and combustion sirens

  wailed. In the darkness of the temporarily blacked out bridge,

  smoke spewed from the overhead sensor array, sparks giving off the

  only light. The emergency lights flickered on, casting a red haze

  in the smoky command room. Backup power lit up the bridge systems

  bringing control back to the ship.

  "Never have I seen such a weapon," the helmsman spoke in awe.

  "Sir," Gor spoke as he clambered to his feet. "It is they

  who want 'us' to surrender."

  Kang glared at the communications officer with murder in his

  eyes. Gor averted his own. His commander had killed with less

  rage than this, but it was an anger born of frustration at the

  situation rather than toward the individual. Kang now knew that

  their military posture was that of the helpless. He also knew that

  for a Klingon there was no surrender. They were warriors, bred for

  conquest, not capitulation. 'This must not be,' he thought to

  himself.

  Kang assessed the field of battle. He assessed his ship and

  crew. Only forty seconds had passed since the force wave had hit

  them. If they must die they will at least wound their enemy. He

  noted that it would take several seconds to penetrate the shields

  of the Starship and destroy it. He also noted that in the first of

  those seconds they and the Terror could easily be taken out. Then

  a thought came to him and he regained his composure.

  "This weapon they have would bring power to the Empire.

  Enough power to destroy Organia and all who would stand in our

  way." He looked at each of the faces of his crew in turn and

  finally rested his eyes on his wife. Mara was the only one who

  could read the doubt on his face, but just looking at her gave him

  strength.

  PAGE 16

  Kang turned to Gor, "We will play the diplomat until we either

  have the weapon or an opening, and then I swear, by the strength of

  the One God, we will crush the invader and scatter his ashes

  through the universe!" His fist crashed into the arm of his chair.

  "Open communications to our enemy!" Kang ordered.

  Gor rushed to his post, thankful for his life and heartened by

  the words of his commander. "Channel open, my lord!" Then "Audio

  only," he added.

  "This is Kang, Commander of the Imperial Cruiser Fury. With

  whom am I speaking?" He awaited the reply. After a few moments it

  came.

  "This is the Captain of the Starship with no name," the bridge

  speakers boomed. "Obey my command and you may yet live to
serve

  your Emperor. Defy me on any count and your death will be

  immediate." There was a pause, long enough for the words to hit

  home. "You will contact the Imperial Throne World. Make clear to

  them what you have seen and let them know that it is only a

  fraction of the power I hold."

  The voice spoke eloquently, almost elegantly, but forcefully.

  Assured that the words which were spoken were weighed heavily by the

  Klingon and confident that nothing in the Empire could be called

  his 'rival', the voice continued. "Make it known to the ruling

  council that you and your sister ship are to escort me to a

  rendezvous with your Emperor, where we will discuss the future of

  the known universe."

  Kang heard a gasp from his wife. She was not the only one on

  the bridge who feared for the Empire. To lead this angel of

  destruction to the Throne World was Galactic suicide; no, genocide.

  "I come in peace," the voice said. "However, do not invite my

  wrath upon yourself, for as you have witnessed, my vengeance is

  irrevocable. No harm will come to anyone if my will is honored."

  The voice over the speaker ceased.

  Kang began to reply, barely able to control his anger. Before

  his lips could move in response, his communications officer

  announced, "Channel is closed, my lord."

  Rage hit Kang. Flames of anger began burning in his mind, yet

  he maintained command of himself. More than anything he wanted to