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Fan Fic Classic: "TGP Forager" by Heath

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FPF-Wanderer:
Part 11

The port city of Gel Mor Tar was bounded to the East by Simbal Bay and to the West by the foothills of the Ophir-Let mountain range. The nearest hill stood some fifteen hundred meters above the bay. It would have measured taller, but its top had been sheared flat to form an artificial plateau roughly one-half kilometer in diameter. This plateau and the surrounding peaks formed a natural amphitheater upon which a stone dais, two hundred meters across, had been raised. The amphitheater was reached by climbing several hundred steps along one of several paths hewn from the very rock of the foothill itself. Commander Jack Virenko of Star Fleet Intelligence, and late of the Federation starship Stalwart, mounted the last of these steps with undiluted relief.

The amphitheater was unlit save for the bright starlight. So bright were the stars, however, that even Jack?s human eyes were only marginally taxed by the dimness. Lyrans, descended from nocturnal hunters, moved about as if they were in broad daylight.

The rock floor of the amphitheater had been polished to mirror finish. Carved into the stone was an inscription that ran around the periphery of the plateau. It read: ?Come, ye Ancestors, unto this place of Council. For time is but a stream to ford and dimension but a sleeper?s dream. Your children await thee.?

Surrounding the dais was a wide trench or moat filled with broken wood. The dais itself was accessed by four unpainted wooden bridges. Imperial marines, dressed in full body armor, patrolled the perimeter of the moat. Jack quickly picked out the hulking form of Major Nel and the slim silhouette of Lieutenant Alir, Nel?s second in command among the many marines. Maybe seventy Lyrans roamed the amphitheater grounds, mingling in small groups and conversing in low voices. About twenty Klingons and several Rihannsu mixed with the Lyrans. Jack scanned the crowd for a familiar face but could not find his hosts from Dark Storm clan.

?A good stretch of the legs on a fine evening, eh Jack?? asked Steve Jorgen with a friendly nudge. Steve was a marine, the commanding officer of Stalwart?s boarding parties. His leathery skin spoke of years out of doors. And his rugged good humor and easy gate was a testament to a lifetime of adversity faced and overcome.

?I was starting to think that I was getting out of shape until I saw one of the Klingons stop and catch his breath.?

Steve smiled in return and the two men waited for the remainder of their party to finish the climb. Captain McDowell looked a little winded. But her grim resolve not to appear weak in front of the enemy dispelled any notion that her spirit was also drained. Behind her Anna Valasquez, acting Chief Engineer, made her way next to Hans Ndur, the ship?s Chief Medical Officer. Both Anna and Hans had been raised at high altitudes: she in the Argentine Pampas and he in Kenya.

The crew of Stalwart had been provided Federation dress uniforms and Lyran oversashes with broaches bearing the great seal of the United Federation of Planets. Jack had explained ?These are clan sashes. The UFP broach signifies that we are to be regarded as a clan ? a client of Dark Storm no doubt ? but a clan never the less at this council.?


Halifax spoke with Hron Kazim, his chief engineer as the two strolled through the crowd. The two were dressed in Lyran ceremonial uniforms: deep green kilts that hung past the shin over soft brown boots. Their white sleeveless tunics were overlaid by vests of green, crimson, and cobalt blue. Gold buttons and clasps glinted in the starlight and heavy steel braces set with jewels clasped their wrists.
??Fax, you have to see this thing.? said Hron emphatically. ?They mediate their matter-anitmatter reaction with dilithium.? The engineer refered to the Federation warp engines aboard the captured new-light cruiser USS Stalwart.

?Crystals? The spectral divergence must be a nightmare to cope with.? said Halifax with a skeptical look.

?No, no. They use single crystals. Yeah.? Hron nodded his head to punctuate his point. ?Really, they use single crystals as big as your fist as internal-reflection resonance chambers. I?ve never seen anything like this outside of the lab.?

Halifax wrinkled his nose. ?Sounds expensive. And what if one of those brittle jewels decides to cleave??

?Agreed. An interesting engineering project, but I?d never want to take it into combat.

?Speaking of combat,? Hron continued smoothly, ?we?ve got Forager back to ready status. The cargo pod has been transferred and the phaser burns have been repaired and re-sealed. I also spent a few hours re-shimming the warp steering fields. Stalwart had a little asymmetric tendency in warp that pulled our coils out a few measures.?

?I promise to be more gentle with your engines in the future.? Halifax said with blank sincerity.

?See that you do!? said Hron, taking the bait. ?These things don?t just fall out of trees, y?know. The tractor emitter alone took...? Hron stopped as he caught the glint in Halifax?s eye. Looking up at the stars Hron went on in a dramatic voice. ?Why am I wasting my talents on him, oh Ancients? Is it my path to watch over our valiant hero and make sure that he still has a ship under him for his triumphant return to the cheering masses??

Halifax arched an eyebrow and said with a smile, ?I said that I would be more careful.?

?Yes, dread hunter. So you did, oh Fallen Tear. I will school myself to be as a sponge, soaking up the wisdom that you pour forth.?

The two men chuckled at each other and continued through the crowd.



Synalin, ad hoc Rihannsu ambassador to the Red Claw clan stood talking quietly near the plateau?s periphery with T?Lan, aid de camp, Tal Shi?ar agent and her closest friend. Both wore their black dress uniforms. Synalin?s featured an ambassador?s broach on her collar. A petite woman, Synalin?s dark eyes caught the starlight in such a way as to make T?Lan momentarily loose track of the conversation.

?T?Lan? Is something wrong?? she asked with mild concern. T?Lan was a brilliant analyst and strategist; both talented at the work and a raw genius to boot. He was also a little erratic from time to time.

?Hm?...No. It?s just that you are particularly beautiful in starlight. I had forgotten.?

Synalin smiled almost shyly. ?I?ve missed you too a?hrea. Perhaps Riov Iliash will see fit to post us to the same sector some day.?

?Ah! Thank you for reminding me.? exclaimed T?Lan with a wince. ?I?ve been transferred to Nemesis after we are done here.?

?What?? The news caught Synalin totally off-guard.

?Yes. I?ll be your ?Intelligence Specialist...blah blah something?. Great, huh??

Erratic and chronically forgetful. T?Lan?s memory was a constant source of frustration to Synalin. The man could coordinate deepstrike operations into enemy territory completely from memory. He spoke eight languages and six dialects fluently. And so entranced was he with a new strategic problem that he occasionally forgot to inform fleet command of the results of the last operation.

?How long have you known about this?? Synalin?s tone was becoming icy and her look was hardening. Luckily for him, T?Lan sensed his danger.

?Um...three weeks??

?Three WEEKS? Did it ever occur to you that...that I might...that my command...that...? Synalin was too angry to form a coherent sentence. ?I could strangle you!? A trained diplomat, she had kept her voice low. But the menace in her tone was unmistakable.

?Get in line.? It was the blunt growl of Frekor, the Klingon ambassador who strode up from behind Synalin. ?It is still illegal to be him in the empire.? Umbro and Tivo, the Lyran PF commanders accompanied Frekor. The ambassador wore the ceremonial robes of his empire and a smirk on his face. Past middle age, Frekor was still vigorous and possessed of that hint of bravado that so irritated humans.

?I?ve been meaning to ask about that.? said Umbro. ?We heard about the banishment, but never the reason.? Umbro?s ears and whiskers were forward and his nostrils flared slightly as he sampled the air.

?The reason,? growled Frekor, darkly, ?is NOT important. The results, in this case that T?Lan is to be killed on sight in Klingon territory, is all that matters.?

?He?s right.? said T?Lan reasonably. ?It really is a small matter between Admiral Kirgal and myself...?

?Shut up, T?Lan!? interjected Frekor fiercely.

?Oh, now I have to know.? said Umbro with an impish grin.

?I think it?s inevitable, Frekor.? added Synalin with a slight look of pity.

?All that happened was...?

?NO!? bellowed Frekor, causing a few bystanders to turn to look. ?No. If this has to be told, at least let me put the best face on it ? for the empire?s sake.? Frekor took a deep breath and closed his eyes in resignation. ?Several years ago there appeared in the empire a group, a cult really, claiming that an ancient prophecy had revealed that it was the true path of the empire to risk everything on an all-out assault on Vulcan, Earth, and Andor. That this would break the back of the Alliance and pave the way for ultimate glory.?

?Timing attcks on such widely spread targets in the heart of enemy space would be the wildest stroke of pure luck.? observed Umbro, clinically. ?That is the most asinine thing that I?ve ever heard.?

?Probably. It can?t have much competition.? replied Frekor, ?A direct assault on the Federation home worlds, even should it succeed, would exhaust the resources of the fleet for decades. But it did catch on with the ?intelligencia?, the ?warrior philosophers? that infest the capital. Bunch of parasites. And unfortunately Admiral Kirgal?s wife spent far too much time in those circles.

?Well, through his wife, these seditionists were gaining Kirgal?s ear. He was beginning to sway other admirals in the fleet. And he would hear no criticism of his wife?s ideas.

?And then, suddenly, Kirgal lost interest in the invasion. An exotic young woman had mysteriously appeared who absolutely captivated Kirgal.?

Synalin listened with professional interest. The two Lyrans nodded knowingly. And T?Lan?s expression was quite unreadable.

?She was aloof and distant and that seemed to fascinate Kirgal even more. He lost interest in both the invasion and his wife.? continued Frekor.

?And that is a good thing, right?? asked Umbro.

?Yes.? replied Frekor acidly. ?That is until the fool proposed marriage.?

?Ah,? said Umbro sagely, ?and T?Lan was behind the woman.?
?T?Lan WAS the woman! And to make matters worse, he had to announce that fact in front of Kirgal?s friends and relatives who were there to witness the proposal. Our spy-friend here actually began removing pieces of his disguise,? Frekor indicated several biological zones with his hand, ? standing there explaining the whole thing to Kirgal.?

Umbro?s eyes were as wide as biology would permit. His cousin, Baron Tivo was doubled over in the resonant Lyran laughter that he was desperately trying ? and failing ? to stifle. Even Synalin, who knew the story, couldn?t help surrendering to a delicate chuckle. T?Lan?s expression didn?t really change. ?I didn?t have time to send for, and brief, a female operative and time was growing critical.?
?You could have accepted the dolts offer,? replied Frekor with super-Klingon control, ?privately revealed the truth, taken your broken bones, and Kirgal could have made up a lie about how his bride to be was tragically ? but heroically - taken to the other side in some melodramatic battle. It would have made a great opera!?

T?Lan got that far away look that he got when seriously considering something. ?Hm, you may be right. Let?s discuss this some more when we have a chance.? Frekor was ready to smack the young Rihannsu but was interrupted. ?Oh look,? said T?Lan brightly, ?there?s the Countess.?

FPF-Wanderer:
Part 12

The countess of Dark Storm stood surrounded by aides and advisors. Her secretary held a holoplate in her upturned hands before the countess. On its viewer pad floated the image of Zarkat (Captain) Entelish M?Non LHruu of the Dark Storm survey cruiser Night?s Eye. The Zarkat was a willowy Lyran with light, almost blonde, fur and pale amber eyes. She spoke in a lyrical soprano that made a poignant counterpoint to her sad mood.

?Your Grace,? said the image, ?early reports indicate two hundred million dead and another one point six billion homeless on Toran Pel.? The Lyran captain spoke precisely and steadily, but her voice was colored with regret and sadness. ?Further, forest fires have added to the particulate matter in the upper atmosphere from the initial planetary strikes. Models indicate an average planetary temperature drop of twelve degrees over the next two months.?

The countess considered the news for a few moments and then spoke with a mixture of anger, sorrow, and conviction. ?Render all possible aid, Entelish and remain on-station to ward off anyone who might try to take advantage of the situation.?

?They?ll be like kits in a den now that we are here.? replied the Zarkat firmly.

?Good. I?m dispatching a freighter convoy with emergency supplies and a destroyer squadron. Semsir will forward an ETA. Coordinate any requests through her. Dark Storm, out.? As the holo-image faded the countess turned to Rhann. ?Constable, perhaps you should dispatch a Vanquisher platoon to Toran Pel. If the social order breaks down, alot of people are going to get hurt.?

?I shall contact Command, your Grace.? The Vanquisher turned and began speaking into his communicator.

?Blood and Ice!? the countess swore. ?Those colonists were depending on us for protection.?

?Long range studies indicate that there is a Sun Eater nursery located in the Hydran Marches.? said one of her aides. ?A small task force could root them out...?

?No!? interjected a young Lyran standing to the countess?s right. He had coffee-colored fur and pale green ? almost gray ? eyes. His voice was a smooth baritone and he wore a Tar?s rank. ?The Hydrans worship many of the great space creatures as gods.? Though professional, his enthusiasm betrayed his youth somewhat.

?Be serious, Heath. They?re just animals, and dangerous ones at that.? added another of the aides.

?Not to the Hydrans.? answered Heath. ?And our peace talks have borne fruit. While I don?t pretend to have an agreement for Hydraxus to sign, we are at least, approaching a common ground; one built upon respect. And we should not be willing to throw that away.

?The point here is not that a Sun Eater attacked our colony, but how it got there.? Heath turned to the countess. ?Allow me to contact the Hydrans and see what they know about the situation.?

?Granted.? said the countess. She held up her hand to quell any further debate. ?My Slayer,? she said, facing Heath, ?after the wedding you will go to Toran Pel and determine how that monster got past the sentry stations on the Hydran border and fix it. However,? she added, sternly, ?I am not willing to trade a billion of my people today for a possible trillion in the future. Is that clear??

?It shall be as you wish, your Grace.? answered Heath. In peacetime he was known as ?Emissary.? But with the coming of war his title changed to ?Slayer.? He was the personal representative of the countess: ambassador, investigator, adjudicator and sometimes executioner. The local will of a remote ruler, he carried discretionary powers
throughout the county.

?Excellent. It is late. We had better be ready to take our places on the Council dais. Semsir,? she said to her secretary, ?gather our contingent and have them join me here.?


The crew of Stalwart stood waiting to mount the dais at one of the wooden bridges with their Rihannsu fellow-guests and their Lyran hosts. At the sounding of a deep drum fanfare the countess moved forward flanked by Rhann, who carried a large ceremonial poleax, and Heath who carried a lit torch.

?Those three represent the Lyran triad: roughly translated as ?Force, Flow, and Forethought?.? Jack Virenko spoke in a whisper to his crewmates. ?The Vanquisher carries a Lyran tuuhlrra that symbolizes victory through active resistance. The Slayer carries flame that symbolizes victory through passively becoming one with the prevailing forces. And the countess represents the sentient mind that balances the other two.?

As the group passed over the wooden bridge, McDowell looked down into the wide pit below and the heaps of broken wood piled there. Assessing the wooden bridge, she thought, ?If they?re planning to light that wood, this bridge isn?t going to last more than a few moments.?

Mounted on the top of the dais was a massive table. As they approached, Jack saw that it was a half-meter thick slice of the immense tree that he had seen in the harbor earlier that day. The surface of the table was smooth, bare wood. Surrounding it were low, cushioned benches made of the same wood.

The countess took her place at the Council table near Kazan al Mimdaha, the Count of Night Roar and his retinue. No one spoke or even acknowledged each other. When both groups were settled a second drum fanfare signaled the arrival of the Duke of Far Stars.

Far Stars mounted the dais with measured purpose. Wearing a blue and black mantle and cape that flowed in the breeze, the duke stalked more than strode to his seat. Jack had never seen a picture of him before and was surprised at his youth. This man wasn?t even middle-aged. His surcoat carried several military medals, but like his rank insignia, A Zarmat, none were very high-ranking. Still, he seemed to posses, if not a raw intelligence, a savy and ambition that partly explained how he came so early to the office.

As Far Stars and his entourage of twenty settled themselves between Dark Storm and Night Roar, both Rahnn and his counterpart in Night Roar saluted the Far Stars Vanquisher. McDowell raised an eyebrow and turned to Jack.

?I don?t know, Captain. As part of their objectivity, Vanquisher command is quite independent of any other government agency. And I?m guessing that the duke?s Vanquisher is the ranking officer here.?

McDowell nodded and turned back thinking, ?There seems to be very little middle ground with the Lyrans; very little gray. They?re almost Vulcan in their ability to separate and compartmentalize things.?

Another drum fanfare signaled the arrival of the Trade Lords. Rulers of powerful merchant empires, these three individuals ?two men and a woman- were not dressed in Lyran ceremonial garb but rather in the height of the latest fashions. Both men wore full-length trousers, short boots and fine overcoats over colorful tunics. The woman wore a high-collared, narrow-waisted plumb jacket over an orange-yellow union suit. The color combination was, to say the least, startling.

?Jack,? whispered Anna urgently, ?It looks as though we?re going to ?guests? in Lyran society for the foreseeable future. I can accept that. But I?m not going to have to dress like that, am I?? She pointed at the Trade Lady with a hint of alarm.

?No.? answered Jack with a smile, guessing the thrust of Anna?s question. ?Lyrans see in a different color spectrum than we do. That particular orange dye on her union suit has an ultraviolet color that we cannot see and a red component that they cannot see. Through their eyes, the jacket actually matches her suit.?

Anna looked skeptical, but nodded her acceptance of Jack?s explanation.

Once the Trade Lords had seated themselves a final drum fanfare announced the arrival of their host.

Red Claw.

Physically non-descript, the man carried a sense, an aura of...power; unrelenting and unquenchable power. Several Lyrans gathered there flinched slightly as they tasted his scent. This man was not the duke of Red Claw duchy. He was the duchy. Historically the most militant and with the return of the Mirak, the most active duchy in the empire, Red Claw duchy had produced many of Lyra?s finest commanders. Savage in combat, resolute in purpose, this was the face that the Federation associated with Lyra. It was a proud face without being smug. But it was also a very dangerous face.

Red Claw paused at the edge of the dais and surveyed the gathering, tasting the air. A deep purr rumbled in his chest as he took in the gathering. Satisfied, he strode deliberately to his place at the Council table; his crimson cloak flowing behind him and his many medals glinting in the firelight. Without preamble he stood with his paws resting on the table and spoke.

?My blood, my kin, my friend and my foe. I welcome you to this place of council.?

?Let us open our hearts to one another and call upon our spirits to attend our deliberations.? answered the gathered Lyrans in unison.

His voice was blunt but not harsh and he spoke with a different accent than that of the Dark Storm Lyrans. At the reply of the gathered Lyrans the torchbearers moved to the edge of the dais and threw their torches into the pit. Satellites orbiting far above recorded the ceremony as the dry, resinous lumber surrounding the dais roared to burning life in flames over eight meters tall. Outside the ring of fire, attendants had filled the letters of the invocation carved into the plateau with oil that leapt into flame as well. A stiff wind blew across the dais accompanied by a low howl and all gathered shielded their dark-adjusted eyes from the brilliant firelight as they intoned what the flaming runes said: ?Come, ye Ancestors, unto this place of Council. For time is but a stream to ford and dimension but a sleeper?s dream. Your children await thee.?

There was no sound, save for the rush of the encircling bonfire that now trapped them all together and the collapse of the burnt wooden bridges. But slowly and sporadically black-tufted ears began to twitch and someone here or there would shiver slightly.

?Commander,? whispered McDowell, ?what are they doing??

?This is the Invitation.? answered Jack. ?Each individual petitions the spirits of his clan to attend him and guide him in the deliberations to come.?

?Necromancy?? asked McDowell, incredulous at first. But then she said, ?Well, I don?t want to offend anyone?s religious sensibilities. How do we get in the spirit of this??

?Very funny.? interjected Steve with a smirk. McDowell gave him a dry look.
?Relax yourselves.? instructed Jack. ?Imagine that you are inviting your dearest relatives and friends into your home.?

The crew of Stalwart sat with their eyes closed and tried to relax and open themselves up to this new and alien experience. Around them Lyrans purred and growled quietly as they began to feel connected to their spirit-kin.

?Oh!? exclaimed Anna in a whisper. ?Madre de Dios, I can smell my mother?s kitchen when we canned pickles. The whole house smelled of dill for a day.?

?Yes,? added Hans, ?and I can hear my grandfather trying to start the radial engine on his antique airplane. I can even feel the hot smoke on my face.?

?I can taste my aunt?s tea. It was always too hot to drink.? whispered Jack with a smile.

?I hear my brother learning to play the trombone.? said McDowell in a sad whisper.

?Why so glum, Janice? Was he that bad?? asked Steve with a good natured smile.

?No.? she said simply, ?I didn?t know that he was dead.? And a single tear welled from her eye.

?Captain,? said Hans in a comforting way, ?this could all be a pheremonal effect, you know; random neurons firing in response to blood chemistry signals.?

?Thank you, Doctor.? she said with a wan smile. ?But something about these cats tells me it may be something more.?

FPF-Wanderer:
...Part 12 Continued...

And like a wave receding, the gathered Lyrans seemed to come back to themselves. Seating himself, Red Claw spoke more conversationally to the gathering. ?We have convened this council because a Federation starship was taken in my space and is now hanging in my starbase. It would be advisable to determine what we shall next do with it and its crew.?

?My Lord Red Claw,? said the woman tradelord confidently, ?I would think that it would be obvious that the Federation vessel and crew should be transferred to the imperial shipyard at Solesar III. This is, after all, an international matter and therefore under imperial jurisdiction.? The woman spoke calmly and correctly, almost as if she viewed the question as merely procedural.

?The Lady Kivlori overlooks the registry of the capturing vessel.? said the countess of Dark Storm, deftly matching the tradelord?s clinical tone.

?In which case you claim the vessel?? asked Tradelord Zenmni, the elder of the two men from the trade delegation. Zenmni looked at the countess of Dark Storm with thinly disguised humor. ?Ahnnleh T?cril Mhnn Ehtlif,? said Zenmni, annunciating each of the countess?s names with heavy condescension, ?You may own your own warships, but you fight for the empire and at the emperor?s pleasure. You cannot claim anything outside of your little frontier county.? Zenmni?s voice was rising as was his aggression scent. The countess?s nostrils flared and a dangerous glint came into her eye.

Before she could retort, the other tradelord, a quiet, slim, and exquisitely turned out younger Lyran put a restraining hand upon Zenmni?s shoulder and gently guided him to his seat. ?My lady countess,? said Voril Eol in a smooth tenor, ?my colleague is simply trying to prevent you from unknowingly stepping into troubling legal waters.? His condescension was even worse than Zenmni?s, but much more cleverly veiled.

?There is clear legal precedent.? added Kivlori. By speaking in turns the tradelords sought to keep the countess off-balance. But the countess was made of sterner stuff and sat quietly listening to the merchants lecture.

?And we wouldn?t want our fleet captains to devolve into freebooters.? said Voril with an off-handed chuckle.

?I?m sorry, Lord Eol,? injected the countess sweetly, ?I thought that privateers would be more to your liking.? Though in upper middle age, the countess presented a look of absolute maidenly innocence.

An icy silence fell over the council. Voril Eol came into his immense wealth and influence at a very young age and many speculated that he had resorted to nefarious means against his competitors in his rise to power. Eol?s scent was enraged momentarily but he maintained his visible composure. Everyone avoided his gaze except for the countess who looked straight at him with a subtle challenge in her eyes and Red Claw, who purred his approval of the challenge.

Far Stars scowled and said, darkly, ?It is not for Dark Storm to claim the vessel.? Count Mimdaha of Night Roar looked at his duke in disbelief. Everyone knew of the animosity between Far Stars and his stiff-necked Dark Storm county. But to openly abandon her in public ? in Council no less ? signified a further degradation in that relationship. ?Our allies,? continued Far Stars, ?might be very interested, more so than our people and more deservingly so - in their traditional enemy?s ship and crew. Ambassador rhu?Havrel of the Rihannsu??
T?Lan whispered into Synalin?s ear and then she turned to Far Stars. ?Thank you, my lord duke. Generosity of this magnitude is truly noble. But we are far from home and our small cruiser would be greatly taxed by the task of towing the Federation cruiser back to Eisn*?

*Eisn is the Rihannsu home star.

?We would be quite content to share the findings that you or our Klingon allies gather.? Synalin managed to look small and wan as if to mimic her cruiser?s diminutive size. It was a surprisingly effective ploy.

?Ambassador Frekor?? said Far Stars inquiringly.

Frekor lounged casually in his seat. He let out a breath and answered with Klingon decisiveness. ?No. We have sufficient data on the NCL class and her crew was most recently deployed far from the Klingon front.? He sat up. ?The Empire thanks Far Stars for his generosity, but we will also be content to share what information your Shadow Stalker clan may glean.?

?I?m shocked.? taunted Eol. ?I?d think that Klingon warriors would be fascinated with divining their enemies? weaknesses.?

?We know their weaknesses.? answered Frekor with mild irritation. ?And they have nothing to do with their fleet or crews.?

?Hmph.? snorted Eol. ?This ship didn?t seem too dangerous. It was easily bested by a tug!? Eol looked around at those gathered at the table imploringly. ?What further evidence could we need that Star Fleet is a mirage? They are not an effective fighting force. They have only numbers and manufacturing capabilities on their side. We should strike them now! Sweep over them like a thunderstorm in the desert before they can call up reinforcements.? The young tradelord lost some of his dry demeanor as he warmed to his subject. ?A tug full of recruits against a full cruiser. Why they...?

?Enough!? roared Halifax, his deep voice resonating the Council table. ?You insult our guests with your ingenuine musings.? His claws dug deeply into the bare wood of the table and his ruff of fur around his neck stood up. Normally a peaceful man ? a pacifist actually ? Halifax had little use for this overly clever fop and his imperialist sycophants. To ?Fax, life was clan and virtue. No oath or law could bind a true Lyran more securely than these two elements of existence. Money and power bound this obscene little tradelord, this usurer, this sneak. It was all that he could do not to leap across the table and relieve Eol of his chattering head - for the good of the Mighty Clans. ?Captain McDowell acted as I would have.? he said with visible control.

The Federation captain looked up sharply at Halifax. She hadn?t realized it, but she had been repressing her feelings over the loss of her ship, acting on autopilot trying to keep her crew safe in a foreign land. But what of the crew that she had lost? ?Forty people,? she thought, ?and all hands aboard the Pleides. How did it go so wrong?? Command training prepared officers for this worst of duties as best as it could. But there were always dark corners, shadowed recesses of the mind were doubt and self reproach festered. Combined with the unexpected sense of her brother?s demise, McDowell was feeling out of her element. And she had no idea of what to make of Halifax. Fortunately, he continued.
?Forager was in an asteroid field and we had launched two PFs.? Umbro and Tivo, the two PF commanders being described, nodded in unison. ?Stalwart could have bombarded us from a distance with photon torpedoes with little fear of retaliation from a Puma-class tug. That is, except for the asteroids.? Halifax?s voice became dry and impersonal as he analyzed the battle. Stalwart could have simply followed us into the asteroids and taken her best shots at our rear shields as we weaved and bobbed through the giant stones. Given no net electronic warfare influence and intermittent intervening terrain, the Federation cruiser could have expected to land maybe three proximity torpedoes per salvo on our rear shield as we fled. Given reinforcement, we could have withstood many salvos, all the while speeding even deeper in to Lyran space and nearer significant Lyran forces.?

Halifax began to pace as he thought. No one moved to interrupt him. He wore the Eye of the Hunter, an amber and black gem set in gold-wrought fern fronds, signifying that he was in the extreme elite of Lyran tactical minds. ?The addition of Pleides would have accelerated the breaching of our rear shield, but our PFs had cut her off from her cruiser.? Halifax nodded to Umbro and Tivo who swelled with pride. Red Claw also gave an approving nod. ?But had Stalwart turned to help Pleides deal with the PFs, Forager would have surely escaped.?

Halifax stopped behind his countess. ?No. No, Stalwart had no choice but to engage decisively and at close range where Forager had the advantage.?

?Which the results show as either imprudent or incompetent.? said Tradelord Kivlori in summation.

?Or unlucky.? replied Halifax. ?Sometimes there is no good tactic in the fog of battle.?

?And prudence may win battles for the ship captain.? said Red Claw. ?But it loses wars for the empire. Good analysis, Halifax.?

?Yes, well this is all fascinating,? said Eol impatiently, ?but it does not change the central fact that Star Fleet can be beaten. And that Red Claw and Far Stars should divert part of their forces from pursuing the Enemy and exploit the weak link of the Alliance.?

Ambassador Frekor,? Halifax said, turning towards the Klingon, ?if Star Fleet is so weak, why haven?t your people subjugated them long ago? From the early war between our people we know that it is not for lack of ambition.?

Frekor threw his head back and laughed. ?No, Halifax. Nor is it for lack of interest.? Frekor stood and began pacing around the table. ?The Federation is weak, but Star Fleet is not.? He held up a hand to stifle any replies. ?If left to there own devices, I am quite certain that the Federation council could talk on continuously until they all starved to death. They talk and deliberate and consider and talk some more. Luckily, they almost completely ignore the Vulcans who are the only consistently decisive race in the Federation. And this is the weakness that shall be their undoing.

?But Star Fleet is as strong as either of our navies. And in the interim,? the Klingon ambassador looked directly at McDowell, ?there will be glorious battles.?

McDowell smiled a cold smile. ?Don?t worry, Klingon. You?ll get your fill of battle from us.?

Frekor laughed again, a healthy, sincere laugh. ?I hope we will, human. Victory will decide who is deserving then, as it should be.?

As the Klingon ambassador made his way back to his seat Red Claw spoke up with a half smile. ?I still have a starship hanging in my starbase.?

?It belongs to the emperor.? said Kivlori.

?It surrendered to me!? retorted Far Stars.

?It is in my space.? said Red Claw, reasonably.

?Its mine.? said Halifax flatly, shocking everyone gathered there. Amidst exclamations and expletives he went on. ?The crew of Stalwart has been declared a clan for this Council. I have defeated them and their clan is now at my mercy. And by right of combat I now claim them as my personal slaves.? The word ?slave? tripled the earlier shouts of protest and painted looks of alarm on the faces of the humans gathered there.

?Are you insane?? demanded Far Stars. ?No one has enslaved a defeated foe in centuries. You can?t do that. It is barbaric!?

?It is also after the fact.? added Eol. ?They have only just been declared a clan as a formality for this Council. At the time of their capture they were foreigners.?

?Hold it.? said Red Claw sharply. ?Rahshaseh, what is the law concerning this??

Red Claw?s secretary was a very attractive Lyran woman with dark brown, almost black fur and luminous golden eyes. She examined her datapad for a few moments. Reading quickly she shared the text with Zophir, Red Claw?s Vanquisher, who nodded her assent.

?My lord Duke,? her voice was a honey-smooth alto and her accent rolled the syllables with a rhythmic lilt, ?because the Federation crew was declared clan without a formal initiation ceremony, it is implicitly understood that they previously existed as clan and are here by only officially recognized.? She paused to allow her listeners to digest her findings. ?Further, the precedent of ?Claim of den, kit and kin? is still legally valid as applies to all clans but those under ducal rulership.?

?But all clans are under ducal rulership.? replied Far Stars.

?Not Star Fleet.? said McDowell with a smile. For the first time in days she actually felt proactive. ?My crew surrendered to Halifax. And while the fleet as a whole probably won?t do the same,? she said with a smirk, ?we did.? She turned to face Halifax. ?I mourn my lost crew and a part of me hates you for their deaths. But it was fair combat. The photon torpedoes that we launched at Forager were not conciencious objector loads that would turn to daisies once your shields were breached.? McDowell paused and looked at ambassador Frekor frankly. ?Believe it or not, Mr. Ambassador, I?m beginning to understand how your people,? and she turned to Synalin, ?and yours, Madam Ambassador, think. I don?t like it. But I do understand it.?

?Far Stars, my brother duke,? offered Red Claw, ?they?re right. Stalwart and her crew belong to Halifax.?

?And I shall return the crew to Federation space.? said Halifax firmly. An audible gasp went up from the gathered council. ?My Countess, through Heath, has realized positive results in pursuing peace with the Federation. We should be fighting our Hated Enemies, not skirmishing with unknown foreigners. If our allies need us, we will answer. But for the present, we have wasted enough time fighting the Feds and the Hydrans. Let us put aside these diversions and focus the Golden Fleet upon the eradication of the Darkness.?

?You?ll get no argument from me, ?Fax.? said Red Claw.

Far Stars glared for a moment and then nodded as an aid whispered in his ear. ?But what of the vessel??

?Yes, what of the vessel, Halifax. Its monetary value is astronomical. You could retire a richer man than Voril Eol there. Unless I start charging you an exorbitant slip fee for your new personal yacht??

?No, my lord duke.? Halifax smiled a gentle smile and turned to his countess and the Count of Night Roar. ?with the permission of your graces, I would like to give it as a wedding gift to the lady Tamla on behalf of Dark Storm.?

The countess beamed and the count of Night Roar was on the verge of tears, as were many gathered there. As civilians, the imperial fleet would be forced to purchase Stalwart from Tamla and her new husband. The proceeds would considerably raise the social standing of the young couple. Such was the type of act the emotional and sometimes romantic Lyrans lived to see.

?Your spirits attend you.? said the count of Night Roar thickly.

?Excellent!? pronounced Red Claw with gusto. The Ancients purr this night. Zophir.? he ordered, holding out his left hand for her tuuhlrra poleax. The two counts and Far Stars did the same. ?My brothers and sisters, let us end this most satisfying Council cleanly.? At his signal they each raised the massive weapons above their heads and brought them down upon the table in unison. With a thundering CRACK the table split into quarters and the gathered Lyrans gleefully threw the massive chunks into the fire pit. ?This Council is ENDED!? shouted Red Claw with a great grin, his fists high above his head. ?Summon the banquet, that we may be diverted from these weighty thoughts with feasting!?

At Red Claw?s order wide stone slab bridges were slid across the fire pit and crowds of bearers and entertainers poured onto the dais. Four meter square wooden slabs heaped with meats were set before the councilors who now lounged on cushions set on the floor. Servers bearing fine metal dewars and crystalline carafes filled cups while musicians struck up a lusty tune for the sultry dancers.

?Halifax,? said Far Stars discreetly, ?a word please.?

?I am your servant, my lord duke.?

?Hm. You know, I believe that you really are, or at least a servant of the duchy.? Far Stars looked thoughtful. ?You beat me today, as you always have. I demoted you and you became a hero. I command your obedience, and you respond with a greater virtue.? The young duke shook his head ruefully. ?I?m actually beginning to believe that you are actually what you appear to be: a Tear of the Fallen.? Halifax said nothing, letting Far Stars work through this conflict for himself. ?Still, I cannot have you disrupting my duchy when ever you see fit. I am the duke, not you. At least for today.? He reached into his vest for a medal with his ducal symbol worked simply in lapis lazuli and amber. Halifax straightened as he the duke pinned it to his vest. ?I name you Wanderer, Halifax. It shall be your mission to pursue the welfare of Far Stars in foreign lands. I cannot banish you outright without making you a martyr. And I also can?t afford to loose a command asset like you.? He looked directly at Halifax. ?You will go to Federation space and beyond. You will observe and explore, treat and enforce and use the broad authority of a Wanderer to the benefit of our Clans. Are you equal to this task??

Halifax let the duke?s question sink in. A Wanderer was much like a Slayer, only with even broader powers but only in foreign lands. He was being banished for an unknown period of time. After so long on patrol he yearned to go to his small hunting lodge and see his family.

But the duke had assessed him accurately. He could not refuse his clan. He had trained many good commanders. The Golden Fleet was in good hands now. He could do more good by going on the offensive than cruising around the rear eschelons ?polishing the cannon ball? as the Terrans say. Even if that meant traveling all the way across Federation space to unfamiliar stars and few of the delights of home. He had lived on Vulcan for a time in his youth as part of a cultural exchange program. Perhaps it was time for further exchange of culture.

?It shall be as you say, my lord duke.?

FPF-Wanderer:
Part 13

It was well past midnight when Voril Eol finally arrived at his villa in the western mountains of Maxender?s northern hemisphere. In order to avoid upsetting his host, the duke of Red Claw, Voril had stayed for the obligatory first round of klah ? the savory Lyran meat drink. ? and lingered over it with the rest of the guests for over an hour before bolting the dregs and making a hasty departure. ?That was bad enough.? muttered the progressive imperialist to himself as he stormed into the foyer of his villa. ?But I then had to descend the two mile path from the amphitheater on foot to avoid ?affront to the ancestral blah blah yack yack?...blood and fang!? he swore tossing his cloak negligently on the floor, (that is what servants were for) and making straight for his study. ?I have invested considerable personal assets in dragging my race kicking and screaming into the modern age. Can?t they see what we have to offer? Why do they resist prosperity??

?Because they are happy, my lord.? said a shadowed figure from the opposite end of the study.

?Tell me, Almeth, must ?happy? and ?stupid? always equate?? Voril adopted a pose of realization and said, acidly. ?Oh yes. We are dealing with Lyrans. So of course the two must equate.?

?The council session was not productive?? Almeth had honey-blonde fur and almost reddish-blonde stripes. She was slender and svelte and her alto voice was very quiet. But she spoke steadily and very reasonably.

?No. It was not in any way productive.? Voril?s voice was beginning to rise. ?They dismissed me. ME! Those primitive, feral, half-beasts. ?Ancestor? this and ?virtue? that.? he parodied. ?They behave as if they are actors in some ridiculous pageant. When are they going to wake up and face the cold realities of modern galactic politics??

?My lord, this humor accomplishes nothing.? inserted Almeth humbly, but directly.

Voril looked at her penetratingly, for he was not accustomed to being instructed. But Almeth was too valuable an employee to treat roughly. She stood there facing him, not boldly, but not ingratiatingly either. Her ears were pitched forward and the air around her was thick with calming pheromones. ?Ah Almeth,? thought Voril, ?controlling your scent like that must be exhausting. Do I really pay you that well??

?The Terran from Federal Photomica is on conference view in the drawing room.? she continued. ?The others are linking up now.?

Voril took a deep breath and nodded to his assistant. She straightened his jacket and smoothed the fur on his nape before giving him a satisfactory nod of her own.

As Voril closed the drawing room door behind him he thought, ?I am certainly not paying you that well, dear Almeth. You bear some watching.?

The drawing room?s lights were lowered except over the conference table in the middle of the room. Floating above the table like a ghostly bust to Voril?s right was a partial hologram of a middle-aged Terran woman. Laura Riley, vice president of market development for Federal Photomica, nodded to Voril as he took his seat. ?Good evening, Lord Eol.? she said with a cultivated accent. ?I trust that your council was not too taxing.? Her expression was one of polite inquiry, but something in her tone alerted Voril to danger. He genuinely hated dealing with Terrans over communications. Without benefit of tasting their scent they could be quite unpredictable.

?Thank you, Ms. Riley. No, council was merely...council. Ah, here are the others.?

Two more partial holograms materialized around the table. The first was a Hydran. Auxizzyzal was guildmaster of one of Hydra?s larger transport corporations. The second, a Mirak named Groven-Commander, was a retired navy veteran in charge of colonial expansion permits for the southern sectors of Mirak territory.

?Well?? said Groven-Commander bluntly and without preamble. ?Do we have the Terran crew?? The Mirak looked directly at Voril with an undisguised contempt. Millennia of racial hatred transcended even the most intimate business arrangement.

?No.? said Voril, uncowed. ?And nor are we likely to do so in the near future. Invoking an obscure legal precedent, Halifax of Dark Storm has laid claim to them. Further,? continued Voril crisply, ?once refit of his tug is complete, he will be returning the crew to Federation space ? no interrogation, no quid pro quo.?

He surveyed his trio of ghostly business partners, noting the effect of his words on each. Auxizzyzal looked annoyed at the ill-timed setback. Laura Riley appeared more disappointed ? disappointed in a subordinate ? something that Voril noted for future reference. Groven-Commander was clearly angry. He turned away from Voril in disgust and addressed Laura.

?Dispose of this traitor. Contact me when both the humans and their religious fanatic benefactor have been eliminated.? And with that his image blinked out of existence.

Voril looked inquiringly at Laura and Auxizzyzal. The Hydran spoke first.
?I do not think that he is coming back.? The translator gave him a light Foremost clan accent. ?Further, I believe that he is correct. This opportunity is slipping away and must be salvaged.?

?I agree.? answered Riley. ?Halifax is definitely not the face of Lyra that we want the UFP to see if we are to escalate this war.?

The advent of effective drone technology had been a serious blow to Federal Photomica, the Federation?s main contractor for photon torpedoes. Over the last two years orders had dropped-off sharply as the new dedicated drone cruisers had past their early shakedown trials and had proven in combat to be very effective warships.

It was Laura Riley?s job to ?reclaim? this market share at all costs. Of all of the Federation?s enemies, the Lyrans were the undisputed masters of anti-drone combat. Shifting the focus of the current General War away from the Klingons and toward the Lyrans held several key benefits.

First, younger, more modern factions within the Mirak Star League would welcome Federation assistance in their campaigns against their mortal enemies. Like the Lyrans, they too had an ?old guard? that wanted to face their Nemesis alone. But these were being dealt with by the more ambitious in the Patriarch?s retinue.

Second, many Hydrans still held deep hatred towards their former slavemasters. The addition of Federation pressure would allow the Hydrans to advance into Lyran and maybe even Klingon territory.

Last, since photon torpedoes were much more suited to countering the close-in style of Lyran combat ? and drones were definitely not suitable ? Laura?s market share would be neatly restored.

?We have assets in the area that can be brought to bear on this situation.? continued Laura.
Auxizzyzal nodded with two eyes and gestured to someone out of the field of view. ?I?ll authorize a cash transfer through a third party. Let?s tie this up.? And the Hydran faded from view.
?Laura,? said Voril very quietly, ?what is happening here??

The terran?s face assumed an expression of comforting concern, (which made Voril want to howl). ?This unfortunate turn of events has necessitated some...restructuring of our business relationship. Our board of directors will confer on this important matter and you should receive word of our decision in the next six to eight weeks. Federal Photomica thanks you for your cooperation and we look forward to future business oppurtunities. Good day, Lord Eol.? And with a plastic smile, her image faded.

It was the second time in the same day that Voril Eol, Trade Lord and advisor to the Imperial Exchequer, had been dismissed by individuals that he found at best distasteful. It galled him and made his claws tingle in their sheaths. And that made him even more angry; to think that even he was subject to the base physical reactions of his race.

So focused was he in wrestling with his emotions that he almost leapt out of his skin at the sound of a disruptor bolt from behind him. Incredulously he looked down to see his chest still intact. He spun in his chair in time to see his gardener, (what was the woman?s name?) crumple to the floor, her torso charred and torn and a razor-sharp assasin?s knife in her left hand. Standing behind her, disruptor still leveled was Almeth.

?My Lord Eol,? she said in her liquid alto, ?we have assets to protect. Shall we begin work??

?Yes, Almeth. We do. Have the kitchen send up a late meal while we review our current holdings...?

FPF-Wanderer:
Part 14

TGP Forager War Journal
Lyran Imperial Fleet
Far Stars Duchy

We have completed the fitting of a troop transport pod at the Maxender docks and are en route to the border of our Hated Enemies. There we will transfer our Federation guests back to their fleet. We expect rendezvous with the Federation Tug USS Copernicus and her escorts in the Djuk Tanju system in the disputed territories.

To avoid possible confrontations our route has not been revealed to our Hated Enemy. Thus far, our PFs on whisker patrol have not detected any foreign warship activity.

On a personal note, I am greatly diminished by the loyalty of my rhurn-til, my ship-clan. To a man, they have chosen to share my banishment and the unknown dangers that we shall face far from our home fires. I ask that my Ancestors steady my mind and fire my heart that I may be worthy of their trust.

Zarmat Halifax
Dark Storm of the Far Stars.

*****

It occurred with neither sound nor sight nor scent. Yet at 19:27 Dark Storm Vessel Forager crossed over the boundary of Red Claw duchy into the disputed territories and, for her crew, exile.

?Well, that is that.? whispered Yatu, Forager?s helmsman. ?Let the prowl begin.?

Around the bridge each crewman paused for a moment to absorb the gravity of their chosen course and to gently mourn what they were leaving behind.

Halifax, Melena, Karim Nel and Umbro were gathered in the Zarmat?s wardroom.

?Zarmat,? said Melena, looking over at the chrono, ?We have crossed the threshold. May I be the first to address you as Wanderer?? At her words, the others turned to him and in unison voiced the ancient greeting:

?Cast down thy eyes, for the hunter roams. Scent not nor stir, for his path is perilous.?

Halifax turned to look at his XO with a mix of bittersweet pride. Standing, he said, ?You ennoble me. A ncients grant that I do so in return.?

Standing next to him Umbro, Forager?s MPF (Mokatar, PF) observed, ?It is a good day to live. Our ship is sturdy, my boats are fast, and there is a whole galaxy out there waiting to learn how to play dancing bones!?

The wardroom broke out in laughter. Umbro was known in most of the Golden Fleet for his uncanny, (and some said unnatural) talents in the popular Lyran gambling game involving three twelve-sided dice and a deck of twenty seven cards.

?Maybe the Gorn haven?t heard about you yet. Let?s go there, ?Fax.? said Karim Nel, Forager?s marine commander. ?Oh and Umbro, wasn?t that Lt. Alir that I saw you with after the wedding??

The young Lyran noble?s ears rotated back in embarrassment. Halifax looked sideways at him. ?She got you, didn?t she?? Umbro?s whiskers slid forward even more.

?You owe me a bottle of Saurian brandy, Zarmat. I told you, never bet against one of my Lancers.?

?You never had a chance, Umbro.? said Melena sagely. ?If I know Mur, you weren?t just an object of affection, you are an objective. And you know what Lancers say...?

? ?There?s no such thing as an outstanding objective to a Lancer. It must be a scheduling error.?? replied Umbro with a mix of resignation and...anticipation. ?Well, I can think of worse conquerors.?

?Zarmat,? interrupted Yatu from the bridge, ?I?m picking up a discontinuity in the star field ahead near that ringed gas giant. It could be a cloaked ship or ships.?

?Romulan?? asked the Zarmat cautiously.

?No, this isn?t a fluctuation. This is a hole in the background noise. Definitely Orion.?
?Yellow alert. Umbro, get to your boats. I want you and Tivo to do a bow sweep. Find out what we have there.?

?It shall be as you say.? replied Umbro as he leapt down the auxiliary gangway.

?Captain McDowell,? said Umbro into his command console, ?this is Halifax. We?ve run across some Orions. Are your people up to a little action??

?Yeah, I think we?ve shaken off the worst of the after effects of the wedding reception.? replied Janice McDowell from the troop transport pod. ?I?ll have Steve coordinate hit and run defense with Karim. Anna and her engineers are on standby for Hron Kazim.

?Good, the extra hands will come in handy. Melena,? he said as they made their way to their bridge stations, ?get me a deep scan of the area. I want to be sure of how many opponents we have. Yatu, go to one quarter battle speed and come about to six zero. We?ll give them our #6.? Amidst acknowledgements, Halifax sat back in his command chair and watched as the first BobTail PF undocked and speed forward.

Several moments later things began to happen very rapidly.

?Three ships uncloaking about forty marks out.? reported Melena sharply. ?Deep scan still charging, but it looks like a Slaver and two light Raiders. Weapon loadout unknown, but I?m getting a power spike off of all three; they?re firing something.?

As the three Orion ships became fully visible photon torpedoes streaked from their launchers, towards the Lyran tug: three each from the light Raiders and two from the Slaver. Five found their mark on Forager?s front shield hammering at it with the primal fires of a matter-antimatter annihilation.

?Proximity fused photon torpedoes.? said Melena. ?Shield 6 is down eighty percent.?

?Helm, come about on a direct intercept course to the center ship. Bobtail 1, this is Forager.?

?Umbro here, Zarmat. We?re just undocking.?

?Good. form up with 2 and keep that starboard Raider busy. Force him under cloak if you can. We?ll handle the...?

?ESG release detected...forming dead ahead, ship coming out of cloak!? yelled Melena, her battle scent coming thick now.

Three marks ahead of Forager and slightly to port an Orion Salvage cruiser had released its ESG. Few ships were large enough to mount a weapon of its size. Fewer still could also cloak. But for those that could, it made a perfect ambush weapon. Virtually invisible with its engines at all-stop, other Orion vessels could bait an enemy ship into unwittingly overrunning the waiting trap. And unlike every other weapon system, the ESG did not need active fire control.

The Orion Salvage cruiser carried two drone racks, four phaser-1s and, in this case, an ESG. A significant number of transporters and boarding parties were also standard.

Halifax keyed the shipwide address. ?Brace for ESG impact. Engineering standby for damage control in the port hull. All sections, prepare to repel borders.?
Forager rocked violently as terrawatts of energy poured into the tattered #6 shield, and then on into the tug?s hull. The port disruptor cannon exploded in a shower of hull fragments and atmosphere and plasma billowed into space from ruptured cabins and energy circuits. Three heavy phasers followed, carving deeply into Forager?s unprotected hull. Defensive phasers protected Forager from two drones.

As the bridge crew regained their seats the thin whine of transporters could be heard. Six pirates: an Andoran, two Mirak, a Gorn, a Rigelian, and a Hydran materialized in a ring around the bridge; weapons drawn.

The Rigelian barely had time to fire a wild phaser blast before he was cut into three pieces by coordinated disruptor fire from the two bridge Lancers.

The Hydran, moving fast, caught Yatu on the left shoulder with a viscious axe blow before Hrel, Forager?s navigator, jumped from her seat and tackled the tripod to the floor.

?Melena, you have the con!? shouted Halifax as he launched himself at a fierce looking Mirak with an angry scar running up his thigh and across his stomach. Half a meter taller than him, the Mirak caught Halifax?s charge fully in the chest. The pair crashed to the deck and tumbled twice before their momentum was spent.

The huge Gorn looked immediately at the biggest Lyran on the bridge: Karim Nel. Both squared off almost formally and approached each other, smiling coldly. Corporal Azir, one of Forager?s bridge security marines, aimed a spinning kick at the Gorn?s flank. But the higher temperature of Lyran ships suited the reptile very well. Faster than seemed possible, the Gorn brought a backhanded strike down on Azir?s ribcage with the force of a piledriver. Though he managed to roll with most of the blow the Lyran fell to his knees, clutching his side and spitting blood.
As this was happening, the Andoran slipped a cruel-looking knife from a forearm sheath and slashed murderously at Karim?s belly. With the agility only a cat could posses Karim leapt over the amazed Andoran. Landing behind the pirate, he reached back over his head, sunk his claws deeply into the blue alien?s flesh, and threw him overhand into the adjacent wall. The hapless projectile made a soft thud and slid to the deck, unmoving.

All around Melena the air was thick with battlescent as her comrades answered the Call of the Ancients; that state of heightened awareness and bloodlust experienced by Lyrans. She wanted to howl in frustration that she was not permitted to enter the fray. But Halifax had given command to her. Seeing that Yatu was on the verge of leaving his post to help Hrel, Melena willed herself to be calm and detached. ?Helmsman,? she said softly, bathing Yatu in her own calming pheromones, ?port standard turn. We need to get a fresh shield in front of us.?
Yatu?s eyes were wild and his breath was ragged. He looked up at Melena with his fangs bared and his fur raised.
?Helmsman,? she said again, ?port standard turn. And then get a level 4 tractor on that heap of scrap. He wants to get close to a Lyran? We?ll give him all that he wants.? The little twinkle in her eye snapped Yatu out of his bloodlust.
?Port turn, aye. Standard.? he answered, dodging another axe swipe from the Hydran. ?Tractor powering to level four. Conduit pressure nominal. Generators one and two report transporter attacks. Minor damage. Repair crews are on it.?

Meanwhile, Halifax struggled with the Mirak pirate. Over two hundred kilos of angry Mirak pinned Halifax to the deck as the invading monster tore at his neck and shoulder with his long fangs. Each bite was a furnace of pain but try as he might Halifax couldn?t get his legs up under the Mirak with enough leverage to throw him off. Smothering the Lyran commander, the Mirak spoke softly. ?Ah yes, yes struggle little kitten. It makes your blood run hot and the taste is sweet.?

?I didn?t think,? said Halifax, gasping for breath, ?that the Patriarch?s bastards <gasp> still ate their prey. What would <gasp> your Federation leash-holders say??

?Silence!? roared the Mirak, kneeing Halifax painfully in the abdomen. Feeling his last breath being squeezed out of him and his neck being shredded Halifax opened his mind and surrendered conscious control of his body to his Ancient spirits. He felt immersed in an all-encompassing peace and watched like an interested spectator as the Ancient beast within took control. Though his arms were pinned, his wrists could move. His claws popped and began methodically, almost mechanicaly attacking the weight crushing his life out. Not slashing or tearing, but digging. Dogedly he dug as his legs locked the now wary Mirak to him. First he dug around the Mirak?s sternum and then around under the floating ribs on his right side. Reaching in, he seized the Mirak?s spleen. The Mirak howled and arched away from Halifax slightly. It gave him the room that he needed to get his feet under the monster. With a titanic push he heaved the Mirak off of him and against the adjacent wall, while still grasping his spleen. The pirate crumpled to the deck in a pool of his own blood and entrails.

Still in the throes of savagery, Halifax retrieved the Mirak?s power blade and staggered over to where Hrel still struggled with the Hydran. The pirate?s third arm was punishing his navigator and in some abstract way, that made Halifax very angry. He sunk the blade deeply into the Hydran?s spine and twisted it until the tripod stopped flailing.

Behind him, Corporal Azir had a safe down-range shot at the remaining Mirak and vaporized him in a green disruptor bolt.

By then, Karim Nel and the Gorn had engaged one another. The Gorn towered above the crouching Karim. The quarters were far too close to use a fighting staff: a fact for which Karim was profoundly grateful. He had fought fighting stick-armed Gorn and had found the experience to be completely unpleasant.

?Stand down, Lancers. I?ve got this one.? At Karim?s words the two marines hesitantly lowered their disruptors. Turning, Karim said, ?You?re on my ship, lizard. Surrender. I won?t ask twice.?

?I have crushed a thousand little men like you. I will crush a thousand more after you are dead, tabby.?

Coming low, the Gorn launched an uppercut swipe with his claws at Karim?s face. Dodging a fraction of a centimeter, Karim came in under the swipe and broke a rib with surgically placed punch. He darted out again as the Gorn kicked. But she caught him with an unexpected backhand that sent him flying into the engineering console. Sparks flew as his head smashed the viewscreen . Leaping out of the way as another crushing blow came down the big marine moved to lure the Gorn away from the control stations. While Karim had his back turned, the Gorn flicked a dart into his right leg which sent him sprawling to the deck. He managed to regain his feet in time to meet the onrushing horror. Pinned against a door, Karim struggled against the brute strength of the Gorn.

Shaking off the Call, Halifax assessed his bridge. Seeing that the Gorn was the last invader standing, Halifax called over, ?Karim, get that thing off of my bridge. Take it into my office.?
Karim shook his head and smiled broadly. ?It shall be as you say, Zarmat!? And with that he slammed the door trigger and both he and the Gorn tumbled into Halifax?s wardroom.

?I have the con, Melena.? said Halifax. Get a medic up here for Hrel. Have the dockmaster warm up a suicide load.?

?I?m on it. Generators one and two report operational in two minutes. And Zarmat, I?m picking up feline life forms in the Salvager?s cargo hold. About ten.?

?Slave pens.? spat Halifax. ?Transporter rooms one and two!? he said, punching his command console. ?We?re going to take down a shield on that cruiser. Lock onto the felines in the cargo hold and get them out of there!?

?Powered and ready, Zarmat. We?ll get them.?

The tension on the bridge grew as the Orion ship slid closer and Forager?s tractor energy built. The tug shook slightly as a pulsing blue beam reached out and tied the two ships together.

?Generator one, range one. Ignite the sphere!?

At the Zarmat?s command Forager released the carrier field into space and began pouring energy into it. As it reached critical energy, it briefly ignited in a sphere of glowing yellow destruction before collapsing on the helpless pirate cruiser.

?Bridge, this is transporter room one. We?ve got ?em. They?re...sir, they?re Mirak!?

?Secure the rooms, secure the rooms! Security to transporter rooms one and two.?

Melena looked dumbfounded at Halifax. ?Zarmat, I know what I saw. My scan showed feline...?

?Stow it! We?ll discuss this later. Generator two, range one,?ignite the sphere. Fire medium phasers that bear.?

The second ESG tore bulkheads loose from the pirate ship and crushed part of the starboard warp nacelle. Phaser fire cut deeply into the hull and sheared off the starboard wing mount and drone launcher. Defensive phasers obliterated a scatter pack that launched. The suicide shuttle left the cruiser a burning wreck. The bridge crew cheered but Halifax?s expression was like a thundercloud.

?We?re not safe in the den yet. Forager to BobTail one. Umbro, what is your status??

?We caught a Light Raider reloading, Forager and only took phaser damage. I?ve got an open #2 and blown starboard phasers but Tivo is mostly unharmed.?

?Understood. Have Tivo harass that Slaver and you get your boat back here on the double.?

?Zarmat, we are still in good fighting trim. Our port phaser battery...? argued Umbro hurriedly.

?On the double means NOW! I?m going to need that port phaser battery here. Now tell Tivo to deal with that Slaver and you firewall your little beast back here!?

The bridge went silent. Their normally serene and calm commander stood next to his command chair, covered in blood and gore, filling the air around him with aggression and menace.

?Twenty marks to the undamaged Raider, Zarmat.? said Melena neutrally, to break the tension. It held for a moment more, then slowly ebbed away as the crew?s routine reasserted rigid discipline. ?Multiple contacts detected at extreme range. Inbound.?

?Yatu,? said Halifax, his deep voice rumbling, ?come about directly at that remaining raider. Speed 10. Transport pod.? he said into his com unit. ?this is the bridge. What is your status??

?McDowell here, Halifax. Two assault teams dropped in uninvited but Steve?s marines and your people handled them with minimal casualties. All systems operational. All crew ready.?

?Very good. Hron,? he said, adding his chief engineer to the com link., ?we?re going to have to run down that raider and the only way I?m going to be able to do that is by surprise.?

??Fax,? said the engineer with caution, ?I?m afraid I know what you have in mind. Is this really our only option??

?Unless you want to take the governors off the warp engines and let me push them to critical, then yes. Without disruptors, I?ve got to rely on the spheres.?

?Understood. I?ll brief Anna on what to expect in her side. Hron out.?

?Janice,? said Halifax, his voice soft, ?get everyone to the cargo hold down there. We?re going to do a warp separation. Bridge out.?

As the Lyran tug came about, the Orion raider unloaded three more photons into her bow shield. Two standard loads found their mark, rocking the heavily laden tug. The nimble raider then turned sharply and headed away from Forager. Matching speed, the clever pirate captain kept himself just outside of ESG and medium phaser range, pulling Forager?s fangs, but well inside the effective range of the pirate?s three heavy phasers. The three phasers peeled back Forager?s bow shield leaving only the barest hint of a defensive screen.

Karim Nel emerged from Halifax?s wardroom.

?Any problems I need to be aware of, Karim??

?None that I can think of.? replied the big marine, shaking his head. ?Oh, I borrowed your desk. Don?t worry,? he added quickly, noting Halifax?s expression, ?Hron can fix it.?

?Zarmat, our number one is all but gone.?

?Understood, Melena. Generators one and two standby to ignite.?

?Capacitors at 90% Zarmat. Standing by.?

...... ?Ignite the spheres! Melena, drop the pod.?

Bulkheads strained and metal screamed as massive duranium couplings relaxed and the immense troop transport pod was torn from Forager?s warp field. Power relays spewed plasma and lightning arced hotly across the twisted docking bay. The transport pod tumbled as it came to rest in space; severe temporal gradients played havok with the pod?s circuitry.

Freed of it?s burden, Forager lunged forward like a crouching leopard. Twin ESGs ignited, blasting the stern of the pirate raider, sending large chunks of hull and the warp engines spinning into space. Phaser fire followed at point-blank range plowing a furrow down the center of the ship and pulverizing its bridge.
?Helm, hard about. Generator and phaser crews, well done. Secure weapons and go to yellow. Tractor crews, get me a level two on the pod.? Halifax ripped orders with a decisiveness that bordered on mathematical. ?Melena, once the pod is tractored and both boats are recovered, go to warp. I?ll be in transporter room one.?

*****

~FIN

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