This one was stalled for quite a while.
Now it isn't.
-------------------------
Armed Kelor stormed out of hover trucks and armored vehicles. Other Kelor were herded into the street, organized into groups and forced to their knees. Neither group could see the hunting party of Klingon Marines concealed nearby.
“No response from
Constantinople.”” Leral reported. The Commander gave her a nod, put his attention back on the viewscreen. Starfleet would stay cool until they found armed Klingons on the planet.
A Rebel officer was selecting prisoners and soldiers were pulling them to their feet. Those chosen were being forced toward the town square. The Klingons slid through backalleys and yards. The Marines would beat the Kelor to the town square. They weren’t burdened by prisoners.
It wouldn’t be long now, La’ra realized.
“Why do they not fight back?” Asked the gunner. There was disbelief in Grimbek’s voice, perhaps a little scorn.
“Heartreaver took her people’s weapons away not long after her ascension.” The helmsman reminded. La’ra could never remember the man’s name.
Grimbek frowned. “I thought the Kelor were warriors?”
“That’s why she took their weapons away.” Argued the helmsman.
“They could still resist.” Grimbek declared.
“Resisting when there are disruptors on your family can be difficult.” La’ra grumbled. “Even for our own people. Mind your stations.”
The younger officers fell silent. On the viewscreen, Ran’jar’s marines were occupying commanding positions about the town square. Oblivious to the danger, the Kelor rebels continued their parade.
“
Constantinople has gone active, Commander. She’s doing sweeps of the front lines.” Leral informed.
La’ra growled. It’d been a hoped-for possibility that the Marine’s beam-down would be taken as another meeting between Heartreaver and Klingon personnel. An unlikely possibility and one the Commander had not relied on, but it would’ve been nice.
The Rebels reached the courtyard. As expected, the prisoners were lined up neatly against a convenient wall, a squad of executioners taking position nearby, their weapons held stiffly and with some formality. Other Kelor were also being bullied into the square, held away from the chosen victims. Witnesses to the bloody example, no doubt. The camera zoomed in on the square, showing more detail.
The Marines were still. La’ra hoped Ran’jar wouldn’t wait too much longer to act.
“
Constantinople is widening her sweep.” Leral announced. “Still not searching the correct areas.”
Not yet, perhaps, but it was only a matter of time. La’ra forced himself not to stand, or pace.
The Rebel officer seemed to be speaking to the crowd. There was something in his hand. A datapad or other such. He rarely looked at it; the speech was probably well rehearsed. He turned, strutted toward the firing squad. An order was given and weapons were brought to shoulders.
The Klingons struck.
The firing squad crumpled as a barrage of emerald bolts converged from rooftops and alleys. Armored marines charged forward at the same moment, bat’leths and rifle butts taking down the Rebels controlling the crowd. A clear moment of panic seized the prisoners, the witnessing crowd, and people began to flee. Had the fight continued, there’d have been casualties, collateral damage. The fight, if one could call it that, was quite over.
Noises of approval swept the bridge, and La’ra allowed himself a smile.
“She's shifted her scan again, sir.” Reported Leral. “She’s looking in the right place now…not much time till they detect the raiding party.”
“Understood.” Starfleet had detected the weapon discharges. Had disruptors been common on the planet, the weapons fire might not have tipped them off. The Kelor still used projectile weapons, alas.
Grimbek was smiling, the Commander noted. Ran’jar had commanded them, but the Marines were his men. La’ra would congratulate him on training them so well, later.
On the viewer, Marines were gaining control of the crowd, taking weapons and other trophies from fallen foes. Ran’jar men had been shooting to stun to give the Federation one less possible objection, and now unconscious Rebels were being disarmed and restrained.
Two Marines had hold of the Rebel officer, who’d been spared a disruptor bolt. They delivered the man to Ran’jar, who stood in the middle of the square. The
Hiv’laposh’s First said something and the Marines released the Rebel and stepped away. Words were exchanged. Even from orbit, La’ra could read his friend’s body language; His shoulders had been relaxed when the Rebel officer began to speak. Now they were tense, and the Rebel officer clearly shouting.
La’ra leaned back in his chair. The officer was waving his arms now, his face flushed.
There was a sudden flash of movement from Ran’jar, and the Rebel officer fell, hands clutching his stomach. Laughter rippled across the bridge. The Commander shook his head and chuckled; he supposed one death among the Rebels could be advantageous. Starfleet’s expectations of Klingon usually involved blood, and an utter lack of it might raise suspicion. The officer’s legs thrashed wildly.
“Her sensors are focused on the area around the town.” Leral warned.
“Good.” Declared La’ra. On screen, Ran’jar was waving his bloody
d’ktagh and making some kind of statement to the crowd. The Rebel officer, blood pooling on the square’s cobblestone, was now completely still.
“Open a channel to the
Constantinople.” La’ra ordered.
Topic: Fragile Ideals (Read 19283 times)