Topic: Daggers in the Night

[Commander La'ra]

Yup.  Finally writing another full-sized La'ra tale.  Just for Grim, this one STARTS with a fight scene.

I already know where this one is going, but I am iffy about the title.  Sounds...generic, to me.  If anyone's got a better idea that the current one, lemme know.

And yeah, I know my updates aren't exactly fast.  Let's hope that my recent 'man, I can write again!' thing continues.

----------------------------



Daggers in the Night


Chapter One



Sirens howled.  Commander La’ra leapt from his bed.  The intercom was already demanding his attention.  He slammed a meaty hand into it as he struggled into his pants.

“Report!”  He demanded.

“We’re under attack.”  The bridge responded.  It was Ensign K’tal’s voice. 

La’ra noted that the Hiv’laposh was not shuddering from weapon impacts and her decks were placid, not pitching as the internal gravity struggled to compensate for wild maneuvers.  He snarled and bolted from his quarters.  There were plenty of other Klingons in the old cruiser’s halls, running for their combat stations.  They made way for him.

“Commander.”  Ensign K’tal acknowledged before the bridge doors had fully parted.  The young Marine stepped away from the command chair.  It was a small, traditional act of submission that La’ra had no patience for.

There was no doubt in the Ensign’s eyes.  Nervousness at having brought the Hiv’laposh to battle alert in the dark hours of the morning, yes.  Uncertainty, no.

“Position of attacking vessels.”  La’ra snarled.

“One ship.  Identity unknown.”  K’tal reported.  Other officers pressed in through the bridge doors.  Leral.  Grimbek.  “Portside aft, indefinite bearing, avoiding visual range.”

La’ra’s expression darkened.  The Hiv’laposh was cruising at warp six.  Any ship that far behind would have to work hard to catch up.

“They attempted to infiltrate an invasive program into our systems.”  K’tal explained hastily.

“Confirmed.”  Ran’jar reported.  The First had strolled calmly in moments before.  He was studying the communication console.

“Shields are up, weapons are armed.”  K’tal said, completing his report.

“Very well.  Man the secondary weapons console.”

K’tal saluted, did as he was ordered.  La’ra clenched his fists.  He moved toward the command chair, glanced at it’s tactical display.  He did not sit.

Shields were up.  Weapons were armed.  Active sensors had revealed the position of the attacking ship…and betrayed their awareness to the enemy.   K’tal had not acted incorrectly -- he’d safeguarded the ship  -- but the enthusiasm of youth rarely served as well as more aged trickery.

There was, however, no changing the situation.

“Change course to intercept target.”  La’ra bellowed.  “Maximum warp.”

The deck plates shifted, and the distant rumble of the engines crescendoed as the old cruiser rolled into a tight turn.

“Target changing course.”  Leral announced.  “Turning away and increasing speed.  Warp six point five and accelerating…”

La’ra acknowledged with a nod but did not reply.  Improper advances had been made on his cruiser.  He leaned over Ran’jar’s console.

“What happened?”

“Our prey was clever.”  Ran’jar was in his analytical mode, quieter and even colder than usual.  “Our nightly updates from Gas’kovan…they waited until we were receiving and attempted to slide their program in.”

La’ra nodded.  Starships relied greatly on their computer systems.  Shutting down the electronic heart of any vessel assured victory.  Controlling it might lead to a fat prize.  He’d never heard of either being completely accomplished.

“Is it contained?”  The Commander asked. 

Ran’jar frowned, his eyes darkening as though his family had received insult. 

“Ah.”  La’ra chuckled.  The engine noise had stabilized; a distant rumble, a quiet shriek as counter note.  “What were they trying to do, specifically?”

“Hard to say without dismantling the code.”  Ran’jar replied.

La’ra nodded.

“Enemy vessel is at warp seven point two and accelerating.”  Leral called out.  The Hiv’laposh was already moving faster.  “They’re altering course…coming about to…they’re headed for the Ribbon, Commander.”

La’ra stepped back towards his command chair.  The Gypsy Ribbon was a massive nebula, a cloud of purple gas that spanned borders and concealed worlds.  It hid ships equally well, and was well frequented by pirates, Romulans, and other undesirables.  The last ship that’d tried to use the cloud to evade the Hiv’laposh didn’t make it, but their new quarry had a long head start.

The Commander considered that. His adversary was intelligent enough to realize that straight fight with a Klingon battle cruiser was something to avoid.  He had tried to narrow the odds, turn the situation to his favor.  The attempt had failed, but he’d made sure to stay out of immediate reach, and he’d made his attempt when a good escape opportunity was close by.

La’ra frowned.  Underestimating such a foe might be fatal.

“Any identification?”  He asked, leaning on the arm of his chair.

“No, Commander.  We should run into their warp trail soon.  That’ll give us more data.”  Leral answered. 

La’ra nodded.  Who would attack them?  He had plenty of enemies. So did the Empire.  He formed a list of candidates.

“Engine room reports that they can maintain this speed for some time.”  Ran’jar called out.

La’ra glanced at his tactical display.  His cruiser's gait was impressive.  The adversary was slower.  Most ships were.

“Acknowledged.”  La’ra rumbled.  L’dar was no doubt cursing his name right now, though not yet threatening to disown him.  They hadn’t exceeded their by-the-book speed yet, and La’ra had yet to decide whether doing so would make a difference.  He turned back to his display.  If nothing changed the adversary would make it into the Gypsy Ribbon.  “Let me talk to him.”

Ran’jar nodded.

“I can give you warp nine for forty-five minutes.”  L’dar’s voice, deeper than his brothers, seemed to shake the speaker.  “We’ll have to reduce to cruising afterward.”

La’ra raised an eyebrow.  He knew L’dar had been upgrading the engines, reinforcing the weak points revealed in the last high-speed pursuit.  Either his brother was not displaying his ordinary caution or his efforts had borne greater fruit than usual.  Or perhaps he just wanted to test his modifications.

“That won‘t do.”  La’ra explained.  Such a sprint would eat up the distance separating the two ships, but it wouldn’t bring them into weapon’s range.  “They’re too far off.  I need a compromise.”

“That’s easier.”  L’dar stated.  The intercom clicked off.

The old cruiser accelerated.




*  *   *



“We’re not going to catch them, are we, Commander?”  Lieutenant Grimbek asked as quietly as he could.

The viewscreen was on.  Against the brilliant purple clouds of the Gypsy Ribbon there was a small image, easily missed. 

“No.”  La’ra responded as discreetly as his gunner.  He had a shirt on now, though he hadn't found time to strap on his armor.

“Will we follow him into the Ribbon?”

La’ra shook his head.

“No.”

Grimbek sighed, slightly.  He didn’t ask for explanations, but his expression betrayed the desire.

“He was too ready to retreat.”  La'ra clarified.

The Gunner nodded with understanding.

“In there…we’re practically blind…”  He said.  The Gypsy Ribbon was a quiet Nebula, in terms of it’s effects on ships.  Radiation levels were low, and shields functioned as well as they usually did.  Sensors, though, were nearly useless inside it’s clouds.  “He might turn and attack, and we couldn’t use our full capabilities against him.”

La’ra bared a fang, lightly punched the gunner’s shoulder.

“Never chase a man too eager to run.”  The Commander quoted.  It was an ancient warrior’s proverb.  Forgetting it could be painful. 

“Target is entering the Nebula, Commander.”  Leral announced, disappointment in her tone.  “We’ll lose contact soon.”

La’ra nodded, stepped back to his chair.  He took a step to one side, back the other.  It was the first glimmering of what could turn into a pacing fit.

“Target tracking becoming erratic…”  Leral warned.

La’ra clenched his fists, growled quietly.  He’d made a few preparations during the long chase, but he had to wait for the proper moment to take advantage of them.

“We’ve lost them.”  Leral announced.  “Entering nebula in sixty seconds.”

“Reduce speed to warp four.”  La’ra ordered.  The engine noise decreased almost immediately;  L’dar had been waiting for that order.  “Begin active track.  Subspace pulses.”

“Yes, sir…”  Leral obeyed.  She had the tone of a carpenter lamenting her inferior tools.  La’ra grinned.  “…beginning sweep.”

It was one of the oldest methods of electronic detection; sending out waves of energy in the hopes it would hit your quarry, bounce back, and reveal his position.  It was still a useful method, especially in an environment like the Gypsy Ribbon, but it could be imprecise.  It was also much like using a hand lamp on a moonless night.  You might find what you sought; it would certainly find you.

The Commander paced, for a step or two.  Leral called out her reports.  The sensors had not found their target.

“Entering nebula now, Commander.”  She finally said.  The viewer showed only stars veiled by a thin purple haze.  Ahead, the fog only grew denser.  He wouldn’t follow his enemy into that, but even the nebula periphery could cloak and conceal.

“Release drone.”  He barked.  The old cruiser trembled, slightly.

“Drone away.”  Grimbek reported.  “It’ll begin transmitting in ten…nine…eight…”

“Cut speed and sensors…”

“Three…two…one…”

“…now!”  La’ra shouted.  Bridge officers jabbed buttons, flipped switches.  The Hiv’laposh lurched, then calmed.  “Cut power.  Rig for stealth operations.  Helm…”

The helmsman, Da’nar, was already acting, swinging the ship off her previous course using only thrusters, brief bursts of impulse power.  The old cruiser coasted into the concealing fog, her lights winking out.  Even the oldest methods of detection had to be guarded against.

“Drone is transmitting.”  Leral confirmed.  La’ra leaned over the buxom science officer.  There was a single contact on her screens, probing the nebula with subspace pulses and emitting a signature quite like that of the IKV Hiv’laposh.  “Looks good from here, Commander.”

“Indeed.”  La’ra rumbled.  There was no way to tell if the enemy had been fooled.  There was no way to tell what he’d do if he had.  He’d been quite keen on escaping the Hiv’laposh thus far, but deep inside the Ribbon, he might see the odds as a bit more even.

The Commander stood fully and took a long look at the viewscreen.  Luminous purple clouds betrayed no secrets.  There was nothing to do now but wait.

[Commander La'ra]

For once, the wait was measured in minutes.

"Contact, sir..." Leral reported.  She spoke quietly.  La'ra never understood why reasonable officers whispered when their ship was running silent.  Superstition, he supposed.

"Where?"  He demanded softly.

"Directly ahead of the drone."  The sensor chief clarified. "Getting pulse returns...two contacts now...no, three..."

La'ra stepped toward the sensor console.

"Show me."  He ordered.  Leral gestured toward one of her screens.  There were three unidentified targets ahead of the drone, scattered out in a haphazard pattern.

"Mines."  He chuckled.

"Fairly big ones, sir."  said Leral.  "Getting strong returns off them.  Our drone isn't..."

"I know."  La'ra smiled slightly.  His science officer returned the expression.   He normally didn't interrupt her explanations, but he knew full well that using the drone's sensor signals wasn't a terribly reliable detection tool.

He studied the pattern of the contacts and his grin grew wider.   They were probably real, but the ease in which they'd been detected meant they were either old or cheap.  Their spacing was inefficient.  Whatever one might say about his courage, their enemy didn't seem inefficient.

"Signal the drone to began search pattern two."  He said quietly.

"Yes, sir."  Leral did as ordered.  The drone began to zig and zag, directing it's sensors to and fro.  It was still heading for the mines, but it's new course would avoid them.  "There could be more we haven't detected, sir..."

La'ra merely nodded, leaned over the sensor console.  Leral's scent tickled his nostrils in such proximity, a sweet distraction from what he figured was about to happen to his drone.

"Can motion sensors see that far into the nebula?"  He asked.

"Not against a ship.  They might be able to catch gas disturbances, though."  She replied.  She'd never voiced irritation at his habit of looming over her and her screens. 

"Direct them towards the minefield."  On the screen, the Hiv'laposh's drone made another sweeping turn.  Then the console began to beep insistently, the drone's target marker went red and still, and other screens began to scroll with data.

"Explosion bearing on our drone, Commander.  I've lost the control feed."  Leral announced.  "Turning motion sensors toward target area..."

"Sharp eyes, Lieutenant.  I want to know when he decides to come scavenge our corpse."

The Science Officer grinned widely.  La'ra stood, strolled over to the communication's area.

"He won't be foolish enough to think we're destroyed."  Ran'jar advised.

"No.  But he might think we're hurt."  The Commander answered.

"Suppose it depends on how badly he wants us."

La'ra nodded.  Their enemy hadn't been stupid enough to tangle with a Klingon battlecruiser in open space, but he hadn't been smart enough to not provoke one in the first place.

"Possible gas disturbance, Commander."  Leral called from the other side of the bridge.  Coordinates followed.  Relatively far from the minefield. 

La'ra waited.  Leral continued to study her sensors.

"Definite distortion..."  She reported.  "Edging toward the mines.  I can't tell what it is, Commander, not at this range, it could be nebula activity."

"Understood."

"A convenient time for nebula activity.”  Ran’jar chuckled icily.  “It could be a trick.”

“Indeed.”  La’ra agreed.  He turned toward the helmsman.  “Assume that disturbance is a ship.  Least time intercept on my order.  Account for the mines we know about.”

Da’nar nodded, his brown, bushy goatee exaggerating the motion.

“Gunner...”  La’ra began.

“Tracking target.”  Grimbek’s reply was gleeful. 

“We’re falling for the trick?”  asked Ran’jar.

“Only if it is one.”  La’ra grinned.  The First rolled his eyes.

“Disturbance has ceased, Commander...no...”  Leral was frowning.  “It’s changed course...looks like it’s circling the mined area...that rules out nebula activity, sir.”

“Understood.“  It didn’t rule out a decoy, a trick.  La’ra went to his command chair and sat.

“Disturbance is weakening...think it’s slowed down...”

The Commander growled to himself.  His enemy wouldn’t be foolish enough to reveal himself with an overt search.  The next move belonged to the Hiv’laposh.

“Direct a pulse toward the disturbance on my mark.”  La’ra ordered.  “Bring our systems back up.”

Officers assented.  Lights brightened to their usual level, the drone of the engines increased.  Indicators showed the shields raising.

“Action!”  He gestured to Leral.  She pressed a single button, and the old cruiser cried out into the nebula.

“Large object mass return!”  The sensor chief cried.

“Danar!”  La’ra barked.  The fuzzy-faced helmsman threw the ship into hard acceleration,  warp engines howling and complaining as the went from a dead stop to many times the speed of light.

“Target has gone active!”  Leral yelled.  The enemy knew he’d been found;  no reason not to see more clearly himself.  Getting warp signature on target...”

“Coming out of warp...now!”

The old cruiser lurched, dropping to sublight speed violently.  Bursts of energy flew, bursting around the dim shape of her adversary.  The enemy ship snaked about, her shields flaring with a hit as her own weapons began to reply.

"Multiple hits!"  Grimbek whooped.

The deck shook, lights flickered as something hit the defense screens. 

"Shields holding!"  That was Danar.

"Cut him off!"  La'ra bellowed.  The enemy's course had straightened, a small necessity for a leap into faster-than-light.  Da'nar wrenched the ship onto an appropriate vector and the cruiser swooped down on her prey.  There was a distant howl as the disruptors opened up, and the bridge lights dimmed.  On the viewer, flashes marked another series of impacts.

"Target is evading!"  Leral called out.  The enemy twisted away from the Hiv'laposh, making narrow, random turns.

The cruiser trembled as a torpedo detonated close by.  Phaser beams lanced out from her quarry, scoring only the occasional hit as the two ships swooped through lavender fog.

"Their aft shields are close to collapse."  Leral reported.  Her voice was more even know that action had truly commenced.

"Who is he?"  La'ra demanded.

"Target is a heavily modified Andorian courier ship, sir."

La'ra growled, stood.  The lights dimmed again, and there was a solid lurch as his cruiser spat out a missile or two.  He leaned over Leral again, staring at the data she'd collected on their quarry.  It was a classic Andorian design, clearly built for speed. 

"There's several ships of this class in the database, Commander..."  said Leral.  "...not sure if this is one of them yet."

La'ra nodded once and paced back to his chair.  The deck shook with another minor hit.  He could see the enemy on the viewer now.  The sleek shape darted about, closely followed by the Hiv'laposh's missiles.  La'ra squinted.  The missiles were following the target a bit too closely, neither catching up or falling behind.  Disruptor bolts, phaser blasts, were finding the enemy regularly now, even in the fog of the nebula.

The Commander chuckled.  The missiles were being held off with tractor beams, a standard countermeasure.  Grimbek using their drive signatures to correct his targeting wasn't so standard.  La'ra growled, rapped his gunner's shoulder.  The Lieutenant laughed and fired again.

"Their aft shields are down, Commander!"  Leral yelled, seized her console as a torpedo hit shook the ship.  "They're turning again...coming around..."

La'ra frowned.  The enemy banked, bringing her tapered bow around to face the larger Klingon ship.

"Hold fire!'  He yelled at Grimbek.  The gunner jerked his hands away from his controls.  The enemy let fly with his entire forward arsenal.  The Hiv'laposh shook and moaned.  "Ready on aft weapons."

Grimbek nodded.  On the screen the enemy grew larger and larger.  There was a hint of motion, a slight change in her bows.

"Hard to port!"  La'ra bellowed.  Danar threw the ship into a torturous turn.  The enemy was turning too, the opposite way.  For a second, the ships raced away from each other.

The Hiv'laposh's aft phasers spoke, brilliant blue beams catching their target's unprotected rear. Metal melted, boiled away.  Atmosphere billowed out of the wounds.  The enemy shuddered, threw himself into another series of evasive maneuvers as the old battlecruiser brought herself around.

La’ra frowned.  The enemy was evading, but not violently.  He was staying on the same basic vector, and even now his course was straightening, readying himself for another escape attempt.  La’ra was chasing his stern now.  Skillful cut-offs and quick interceptions could not help now.

Grimbek fired.  Phaser beams punished the enemy, disruptor bolts tore chunks from his hull.  La’ra snarled, knowing the damage wouldn’t matter.  He willed another volley to strike home, to hobble his enemy.  It wasn’t enough.

There was a flash, the illusion of motion as the enemy leapt into warp, her course carrying her deep into the thickest part of the nebula.

The command center went quiet.  Officers blinked or cursed quietly.  A couple sighed.  The enemy had disengaged.  Many would count that as a victory, but this was a Klingon ship.  The Commander clenched his fists.

“Cowards.”  K’tal spat, from somewhere in the back.  There were nods of agreement around the bridge, muffled curses.  La’ra didn’t agree with the sentiment.  His enemy had refused to fight when circumstances were not in his favor.  That was intelligence, not cowardice.

“Perhaps.”  He spoke low, but loud enough for his crew to hear.  “But coward or not, he’ll remember what happens when he takes liberties with our ship.”

There were a couple of grins, a chuckle or two.  That was good:  They had outfought their enemy despite his escape.  If they could salvage some pride from the encounter, they’d earned it.  And to be sure, it was not a total defeat.  The enemy had survived, but he wouldn’t forget the Hiv’laposh anytime soon.

Despite himself, La’ra grinned.  He wouldn’t be forgetting anything either.

-----------

Damned character limit.

Comment and questions welcome!

[Czar Mohab]

Hahahaha... I like it when the Klingons are the good guys sometimes; this is one of those times. Great read, lookin forward to  more!

Czar "No quote today" Mohab

[Governor Ronjar]

I don't know...

I can't see La'ra letting this go. He'll hunt this mother down. I know I would. I'd stalk his happy ass down and pin him to the wall. Ron'jar would most likely hunt him down. Dath'mar would hunt him down. Ford might even hunt him down.

Pretty damn sure La'ra won't be able to let it go.

Great story all around. A good start and hoping for much more to come.

Gimme more!
--thu guv!

[Grim Reaper]

Battle == good.

Thx La'ra!

[Commander La'ra]

Pretty damn sure La'ra won't be able to let it go.

*whistles innocently*

[Governor Ronjar]

yeah...I thought so...

--guv!

[kadh2000]

I was gonna say that Kadh would let it go, but he wouldn't.  'Course he'd charge straight in anyway and take his lumps.

[Scottish Andy]

Andrew would let it it go... but set up a warning flag for any ship detected that came within a 50% match of the sensor profile.

[Commander La'ra]

Posting Chapter Two in Parts.  It's coming slowly, but surely, but I get tired of not posting anything and thus that's not good enough.

--------------------



Chapter Two



The enemy had escaped around midmorning.  By noon, most of the Hiv'laposh's crew was back to their usual duties.  Some lamented the mysterious ship's escape.  Others hoped for a victory feast, since their adversary had run away.  A few realized that, while the chase was over, the hunt was just beginning.

"He'll need a dockyard."  L'dar rumbled, staring at a schematic of the enemy ship.  Bright red indicators marked where the Hiv'laposh's teeth had bit deep.

"What if he's not as fastidious as you?"  La'ra countered.  The brothers were in L'dar's work area.  The drone of the warp drive wasn't background noise here.

"I thought of that."  L'dar stated dryly.  "So I imagined a state of repair that would satisfy you, were you an engineer.  He'll still need a dockyard."

La'ra resisted the urge to snarl at his brother.  There was an unspoken rule about sibling conflict taking place in neutral areas.  Engineering wasn't neutral;  La'ra ruled the rest of the ship, but this was his brother's den.

"He was in good enough shape to run away."  La'ra reminded.

"Look at this."  L'dar pressed a button or two.  The screen shifted to a replay of the last moments before the enemy's escape.  Disruptor bolts, phaser blasts punished the Andorian-built vessel.  L'dar paused the record, suddenly.  "There.  You see?"

"He's losing some kind of fluid."  The Commander considered.  "Deuterium."

"Yes.  And a lot of it."  The engineer adjusted the screen, zooming in on the precise area of the hit.  "Disruptor bolt ruptured their primary deuterium storage.  Could've been catastrophic if we'd been luckier.  See the breach?"

"Yes."  La'ra crossed his arms.  The force of the blast had breached the hull, torn a huge chunk out of the hostile ship.  It wasn't the type of thing you could completely fix without extensive repair facilities.  "What're the chances he's already run out of fuel?"

"Slim.  Most ships have reserve tanks.  He'll have enough to get somewhere."

"We were lucky."

"How so?"  L'dar frowned.  "That hit could've destroyed him."

"Could've."  La'ra agreed.  Fuel storage was well-protected on warships, but on converted civilian vessels, that wasn't always the case.  "But now he needs a dockyard, as you said.  That narrows the possibilities quite a bit."

"So you are hunting him."  L'dar grinned.

"You didn't wonder where we were headed at warp seven?"

"Can never tell with you."  L'dar stated.  "Where are we headed?"

"The other side of the Gypsy Ribbon.  Wherever he's going is probably over there.  When we figure out where that is, we'll be close by."

"He could double back into our space."

La'ra nodded.  If he were the enemy captain, he might try just that.  Yet there had been something about the way his adversary had handled himself, his ship...

"I doubt he will."  La'ra said quietly.  "He's too..."

"...cowardly?"  L'dar asked.  The Commander shook his head.

"He's no coward."

"He ran away."

"Retreat when there's no hope of victory is not cowardly."

"He did not try very hard."  L'dar rumbled.

"He fights when it suits him.  Not before."  La'ra decided.

"The same might be said of you, and for all your flaws, you're no coward."  L'dar relented with a slight grin.  "So why won't he double back?"

"It's hard to...verbalize."

"Try."

La'ra growled lightly.

"He takes the logical course of action.  He's willing to take chances, but they're measured.  He plays odds.  He's willing to fight, but when he does, he fights toward a goal."  The Commander paused.  "Better?"

"Better." L'dar agreed.  The engineer nodded.  "Do you think he's Vulcan?"

La'ra shook his head.  "No.  Too lively."

"So why does this mean he won't double back?"

"He has a fuel leak and damage to his ship.  The Ribbon is huge.  Even if we're searching for him, we'd have to be very lucky to catch him as he emerged.  Doubling back means he's in Klingon space with deep wounds.  That's riskier."

L'dar nodded.  "He'll assume we're chasing him."

"I hope so."  said La'ra.

L'dar raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"A modified civillian ship generally means pirate or mercenary.  Mercenaries don't fight unless they're paid.  Pirates don't attack battlecruisers if they can help it, unless they're acting as mercenaries for the moment."  La'ra explained.  "If he thinks we're hunting him, he'll be evasive. That'll slow him down, and wherever home is to this man, I want to get there before he does.  He'll have friends there."

"You're not so interested in catching that ship..."  L'dar realized.

"No."  La'ra grinned.  "I want who hired him."

*   *   *

[Commander La'ra]

"How many systems have what he'll need?" 

"Three within close proximity to the Ribbon.  Two more within a weeks travel."  Leral answered.

"Without his main deuterium tanks, he won't have a week."  Grimbek mentioned.  "Which of those three are pirate havens?"

"We're in the Triangle."  Leral chuckled.  "All of them."

"Oh."  Grimbek smiled.  Once, his question might've seemed naive.  It might still, but there was a trace of humor in the gunner's voice, the possibility of an intentional jest.

"We still hope to arrive before him, find his allies?"  Ran'jar asked.

"Yes."  La'ra replied.  The Klingons were gathered in the officer's mess.  On the Hiv'laposh, it was mostly used for discussions and briefings.

"There's no guarantee one of these systems is his usual base."  The First cautioned.

"There isn't."  La'ra admitted.  He was hoping that their enemy nested nearby, though.  A hired killer could make use of the Gypsy Ribbon's close proximity and the easy access to multiple stellar borders, so the hope was not blind.

Ran'jar merely nodded.

"Have we identified him?"  La'ra asked.

"We've narrowed it down to five possibilities, based on ship type and weapons scheme."  Grimbek reported.  "We have more clues, but..."

"...but it's taking some time to analyze them."  Leral finished.  She'd insisted on beaming aboard bits of the enemy ship, samples of the leaking fuel.  "Probably a few more hours."

"We should've taken a closer look at those mines."  Grimbek lamented.

La'ra grinned.  He was standing, leaning on the wall near the viewport.  He diverted his gaze outside, for the gunner's earnest expression would trigger laughter if La'ra kept looking at him.

"Our scans got enough information from them."  Ran'jar snorted.  "No need to bring live explosives aboard."

"It would've been easy to disarm..."  The gunner fretted.

"We already have one of their weapons."  La'ra reminded. 

Ran'jar's eyes narrowed.  "Indeed we do."

"What've you learned?"

"Whoever wrote it is...subtle.  It was designed to insinuate itself into our less important systems.  Lighting.  Crew Comfort.  Things less secure than the weapons or propulsion."  The First leaned back in his chair.  "It would've changed their power allotments."

"Doesn't sound very serious..."  Leral began.

"...except if it'd done it enough it'd have caused burnouts, overloads."  Ran'jar continued.  "It wouldn't have disabled us, but it would have inhibited our ability to fight."

"We'd have been less than an even match."  La'ra agreed.  The choice to engage the Hiv'laposh at all had been the only thing that hadn't fit his impression of the enemy captain.  Now it made more sense.  His opening salvo had been an attempt to turn the odds to his own favor.

"Have you checked our...other data sources?"  Leral asked. 

La'ra smiled.  The Hiv'laposh had a treasure on board.  A store of information stolen from a man who did little but accumulate it.  They'd made use of it on several occasions, careful not to betray their inside knowledge, and while some of the secrets they held were out of date, much was still priceless.

"It's next on the list."  He admitted.  "Wanted more than just a ship description."

Leral smiled.  "How scientific of you."

"Insulting the Commander like that...the women on this ship are far too bold."  Grimbek said.  His eyes were wide and bright.  Leral blinked at him before laughing loudly.

"He makes jokes now."  Ran'jar shook his head.

"We're a bad influence."  La'ra agreed.

"It does remind me..."  Ran'jar stated, his voice going icy.  His eyes, for a moment, were far away.  "Whoever wrote the virus is a woman."

Leral cocked her head.  Grimbek blinked.

"How do you know?"  La'ra asked.

Ran'jar shrugged.

"It's a woman."



*  *  *



La'ra stared at his computer screen.  Grimbek had said there were five ships the enemy could've been.  All five were mentioned in the stolen data trove.

Leral's data on debris and fuel and other such things eliminated one of the possibilities.  The pirates had technical specifications on three of the ships, and one had an Axanari engine with a very distinctive exhaust signature.  Whoever had assaulted the Hiv'laposh hadn't left such a trail.

Another of the suspects was a smuggler, focusing his trade on ores he could pick up cheaply in Klingon territory and sell for great profit in the Federation.  Imperial Intelligence had sent out a general warning not to harass him a while back.  La'ra wondered if it was Major Dar'tel who'd recruited the man, and marked him off his mental list.

The third prospect was a legitimate businesswoman, at least in theory.  She ran a high-value courier business, using her speedy, armed vessel as insurance against pirates, thieves, and Klingon raiders.  Rich Federation citizens hired her to transport sensitive items -- often people -- to or from dangerous areas.  Despite Ran'jar's assurance that the virus' maker was female, he doubted that the woman would jeopardize a profitable business scheme for a chancy assault on a much larger ship.

That left two possible attackers.  An Andorian mercenary named Shax.  A human mercenary answering to ‘Little Earl’.  Both had ships that could be the Hiv’laposh’s attacker.  Both had a reputation for competence. Both home-ported at one of the Triangle worlds Leral had listed.  There were no disqualifiers for either of them.

La’ra called up personal data on the captains.  It was useless information, mostly, but the man he’d purloined the information from was fastidious and a little obsessive when it came to his trove of knowledge.  ‘Little Earl’s’ fondness for small human women of Asian decent didn’t help La’ra decide who to pursue.  A description of Shax’s family, however, did.

The Andorian had a daughter.  She’d dropped out of Starfleet Academy to join her father’s less legal pursuits.  At the Academy, she’d been steered into some very advanced computer courses.

“A woman.”  La’ra muttered.  Ran’jar might not be able to explain his intuitions, but La’ra trusted them as much as his own.  He stood, walked toward the intercom, and gave the appropriate orders.

He could feel the subtle shift in the deck as the battlecruiser changed course.  There was a hum from the engines he hadn’t noticed before.  The snarl of a predator who’d caught the right scent.

[Grim Reaper]

you know I love you make the ship into a living being. Most captains will tell you their ship has a soul of it's own. And btw, nice the daughter is a nice twist. And I'm looking the learn more about andorians. Are you gonna teach me?

[kadh2000]

Woo hoo, my favorite Klingon is back.  (okay 2nd favorite).

Nice bit on the virus.  Very nice.  I'm liking this pirate foe.  The crew is, as always, fun to listen to when they jaw around with each other. 

The only thing that got me is the sudden shift of venue between the two sections of the chapter.

[Governor Ronjar]

 

Ron'jar is happy!

--thu guv!

[Scottish Andy]

*nudge*

There is more, right?

[Andromeda]

Everyone else has already commented, but I promised, didn't I?

I like that the issue's still in doubt.  Yeah, your D6 is better than the Andorian in a straight fight, but this hasn't been a straight fight.  Hurt the little fish, kill the big fish.  Seems likea good strategy to me.  I don't have any technical comments because I'm not sure how to give them. 

A joke:
Two Klingon Captains meet in a bar and discuss their latest forays into space.

Klingon 1: "I learned something new this trip: Never shoot your navigator if you don't have a back up."
Klingon 2: "That's what cross-training's for."

[Scottish Andy]

That's a good joke. I like that.

[Governor Ronjar]

I want more La'ra!

--thu guv, Founder, Chairman, CEO and lead spokesman for the Foundation Wanting More La'ra.
"I support this message!"

[KOTH-KieranXC, Ret.]

I concur... new La'ra has been too long in coming.

I'm enjoying this one so far. I'm getting curious about the antagonists in this one. And to echo Kadh, I can't get enough of La'ra and his crew.

[kadh2000]

More!!

[Commander La'ra]

In another week, you'll likely have more.  Was working on it this week, which is why the race is late.

[Hstaphath_XC]

More!!

Though I agree wholeheartedly (I really like what La'ra is doing with this one), I would also say the same thing to you in regards to your Derelict story.   

[Czar Mohab]

I concur with the motion of "MORE!!"

Czar "You both got Hsta'd in one post!" Mohab

[Commander La'ra]

First scene of Chapter Three is ready...figured I'd go ahead and post it.

------------------


Chapter Three



The odd sensation of being transported faded away.  La'ra's nose wrinkled, his hand moving to cover his nostrils.  The smell of urine and rot dominated the grimy alley.

"Great Kahless..."  Leral spat from behind him.  La'ra snarled.

"Report!"  He growled.

There were other Klingons in the alley.  Six Marines, dressed not in uniform but clothing and armor that might be used by a mercenary or House-warrior, stood in securing positions.  La'ra's group had followed once they'd declared the landing site secure.

"No threats in the area, Commander."  The lead Marine informed.  Ensign K'tal, his rifle held at a casual ready.  "No observers...no life signs for some distance."

La'ra nodded.  "Good."

"What is that horrid stench?"  Leral asked.

"Corpse behind the trash receptacles."  K'tal gestured.  The warehouse they'd materialized behind looked disused.  So did the waste bins.  Most of the garbage here was lying on the ground.  "Crushed skull."

"Indoors."  La'ra snarled.  Marines sprang up from their defensive positions, stood ready at one of the warehouse's entrances.  The door yielded without too much effort, the armed and armored Klingons rushing through, weapons at the ready.

The warehouse was still littered with crates, most of which had long since been torn open and scavenged.  The metal walls bore streaks of rust, the dust almost as oppressive as the odor of decay in the alley.

"Finally, a worthy stronghold from which to plan galactic domination."  Leral quipped.  La'ra chuckled, and even K'tal grinned slightly.

"It'll work for the next few days."  La'ra declared.  He looked to one of his team, a young petty officer burdened with communications gear.  "Pick whichever spot you want, Woram."

The younger Klingon nodded.

"Shall I arrange ground transportation, sir?"  One of the Marines asked.  Klas.  A n'er-do-well who'd been sentenced to service.

"Be discreet."  La'ra warned.  Klas sighed as if he'd been mildly insulted, and headed for the exit.

The Commander looked about.  Windows had not been on the architect's priority list, but he thought he saw some outside light coming from what had probably been the overseer's office.  He trotted up rickety metal stairs.

The office had been mauled terribly by many someones.  Aged graffiti adorned the walls, and piles of dried material La'ra chose not to identify were heaped in the corners of the room.  There was a black mark on the floor, probably the result of a transient's warming fire.  There were windows, though.  La'ra could see the city.

The sky was barely visible, stars obscured by the grimy dome  that protected the settlement from a poisonous atmosphere.  A magnetic rail that'd once been a path for high-speed trains wound it's way between long-abandoned warehouses.  Even the permacrete on the connecting streets were cracked and rotting.  In the distance though, there were the peaks of tall buildings.  They seemed obligatory.  No doubt most of what really went on the city occurred in bars, basements, and hidey holes.

Somewhere in this cesspit, there was a particular hidey hole, housing a particular woman.  His data had been clear on that;  the daughter only rarely shipped out with her father.  She'd be here, at the Andorian's 'home port'.  La'ra wondered how much protection she'd have.  It didn't matter, really.  He was here to watch her, not to accost or abduct her.  He didn't like taking hostages.

"Commander."  Someone called.  Leral.  He exited the office, gave her an interrogative look.

"Worams set up.  We can raise the ship whenever you wish."

La'ra nodded and headed down the stairs.

[Governor Ronjar]

Very, VERY excellent detail!

Want more of same!

--thu guv!

[kadh2000]

Kadh, having had a dead critter that he had to remove, can testify to the stench of death. 

Everyone around here is doing a nice job with the imagery lately!  No combat, no real adversity, yet a good piece. 

[Grim Reaper]

Nice 1 mate! I like the pictures painted

[KOTH-KieranXC, Ret.]

Too short. Post more.

You've already been Hsta'd, you want to get K-Fo'd?

[Scottish Andy]

As I said to you in my review (and I'm surprised no one else commented on it), I love this line:

"Finally, a worthy stronghold from which to plan galactic domination."  Leral quipped.  La'ra chuckled, and even K'tal grinned slightly.

With the imagery of the previous decriptions, this is the perfect line. Bravo!

[kadh2000]

Yeah, I remember getting a chuckle out of that line, too.

[Hstaphath_XC]

Too short. Post more.  You've already been Hsta'd, you want to get K-Fo'd?

The stories on the board have been so good lately that I've been breaking out of my normal lurker mode to actually comment.

Writing parody is completely different from writing fan fic so I often don't feel qualified to critique.  However, I know what I like and this is certainly one of my favs right now... this from a Hydran who would normally hellbore a Klink on sight!   

[Commander La'ra]

Still working on Chapter Two over here.  While Roger's right about how I tend to be in the winter (snoring), I'm trying to get some work done.

And hell, Hsta, you've never posted on one of mine before...therefore I shall now do the unthinkable and give myself a...deadline.

I'm giving myself a week to post something new on this...may not be huge...but it'll be something.

I hope.

[Governor Ronjar]

I wager the odds as...

60/40 against...

 

--guv

[CaptJosh]

Nit to pick. "Worams all set up"

You mean "Woram's all set up" as in Woram is, not that there are multiple Worams who are all set up.

That said, excellent story so far. I always appreciate La'ra and co.

And I love the line about a perfect place to plan galactic domination.

[Czar Mohab]

Would the one week self imposed deadline include a possible (early) Christmas posting? Man, if everyone posted a Christmas post, I could have a great workday and a great Christmas on the same day!

Czar "Hoping for a well written Christmas" Mohab, who wishes he got paid everytime he wrote "Christmas"... $1 each would be ok...

[Governor Ronjar]

Nit to pick. "Worams all set up"

You mean "Woram's all set up" as in Woram is, not that there are multiple Worams who are all set up.

Actually...it's all a part of Ran'jar's [note the 'a'] cloning experiment. They built new Worams to supplement the work/fodder force...

--guv!

[Commander La'ra]

The scene is tiny, but I did say I'd post something.  The scene after this is about half-written, but it'll probably be a couple days before I can finish up the chapter.

-----------------------

"He has yet to appear."  Ran'jar's voice was punctuated with crackles and fizzing, the by-product of scrambled comms.  "As expected."

"Should take him a while yet."  La'ra agreed.  He stood in the corner of the warehouse Woram had chosen as the communications area.  The Petty Officer had found a table to set the system on, had scrambled up to the roof to erect an antenna.  The bulky equipment was not necessary to talk to the ship in a normal fashion, but allowed a nearly intercept-proof signal and high-quality coding.  "We've found a...suitable base of operations.  We'll proceed as planned."

"Understood."  Ran'jar replied.  "Do you want the merchandise now or later?"

La'ra considered.

"Later.  We've used the transporter enough already."  The Hiv'laposh had entered the system in near-stealth configuration, warp field adjusted to seem like something other than a Klingon battlecruiser.  Now she sat motionless, in the shadow of the world's moon where it'd be unlikely that anyone could make a visual inspection.  The behavior would be suspicious in most systems, but not Korsham.  They'd detected four other ships using similar methods on the way in.  "No need to make anyone...curious."

"We'll let you know when he arrives."  Ran'jar promised.  The transmission ended.

"Comm, shelter, vehicles on the way."  Leral was standing nearby, leaning against the wall.  "K'tal is making the defensive arrangements."

"Yes."  La'ra growled.  They'd need the vehicles to start their hunt, and once they were on the prowl, they'd have to be delicate in their attempts to locate the Andorian's spawn.  All that meant waiting, patience, which were not to the Commander's preference.  Leral, he noted, had a sort of desperate eagerness in her eyes...

"What?"  He asked.

"We're just...waiting, right now, Commander.  Would you mind if I put together a..."  She glanced around the abused warehouse.  "...clean-up crew?"

The Commander blinked, then laughed loudly.

"Permission granted."

[Czar Mohab]

Well, that "clean-up crew" bit seems funny to me, I mean, Klingons cleaning up? Must be worse than I imagined in the warehouse.

Not much more to comment on at the moment, it was a post that a.) gave me something to read, and b.) left me with a better feel fro what is going on. But then there is c.), must have more!

Czar "MORE MORE MORE" Mohab

P.S. Thanks for the holiday posting.

[Commander La'ra]

Well, that "clean-up crew" bit seems funny to me, I mean, Klingons cleaning up? Must be worse than I imagined in the warehouse.

Though I didn't want to come right out and say it in the story, I wanted Leral to do something stereotypically feminine.

[Governor Ronjar]

Nice...but my 60/40 against still stands.

I am left only wanting more.

--guv!

[Andromeda]

Yea!  Let's here it for the girls!

[kadh2000]

You know, I've posted scenes that are that short.  I get in trouble for them when everyone asks for more. 


More!

[Scottish Andy]

Though I didn't want to come right out and say it in the story, I wanted Leral to do something stereotypically feminine.

However, that is exactly what I thought when reading that line. "It's because she's the girl." Even though she's a Klingon girl. I honestly cannot see her wandering around in a pinny and bunny sllippers with a feather-duster and can of Pledge.

Not much to chew on here, but hey... at last you're posting.

[Governor Ronjar]

Hey, guys...remember...

...it took Larry over a YEAR to post all of his last project...

 

--thu guv!

[Commander La'ra]

I honestly cannot see her wandering around in a pinny and bunny sllippers with a feather-duster and can of Pledge.

She'd probably shoot you for suggesting such, but somehow, in that scene, it just seemed to fit.

[kadh2000]

It is said that Paladins and Lawful Good clerics get to tell one joke per year.  Perhaps it can also be said that Klingon women get to do one stereotypically female thing per year.

[Governor Ronjar]

Kadh must meet Derek...the Paladin Brawler...

--guv!!

[Commander La'ra]

Another little bitty bit, but progress is still progress.

--------------------


Any Marines not on watch were quickly conscripted by the science officer.  Debris was cleared out of what was fast becoming the living area.  The more offensive trash was vaporized with low-yield disruptor fire, an inefficient if satisfying process. 

La'ra thought he heard K'tal mutter something about 'woman's work'.  He let it slide.  The Marines weren't too enthusiastic about housecleaning, but when, after a few minutes effort, they had a clean place to lay their bedrolls, frowns were replaced with their usual wary expressions.  Minor housecleaning was still taking place when the rooftop lookout announced that Klas had returned.  The warehouse's huge vehicle door was opened.  Two vehicles slid in;  a boxy cargo carrier and a smaller passenger conveyance.  They settled to the floor, the low hum of their engines dying.

"Who should I thank?"  La'ra asked as Klas emerged from the truck.

"I'm not sure."  The Marine admitted.  "Left it parked in a blind alley, so they were probably up to no good."

The vehicles doors ground shut.  La'ra punched Khlas lightly in the shoulder.

"Good work.  Should we do something about their appearance?"  He could certainly recognize the Hiv'laposh even when she was floating next to another D-6.  Someone might be similarly attached to the panel truck.

"To be safe. Shouldn't take long."  Khlas agreed.  He glanced about the warehouse, smiled slightly.  "Place does look better now."

Another Marine cursed.  Somewhere close, Leral laughed loudly.

"And you missed it."  La'ra grinned.

"My duties were elsewhere."  Khlas claimed as formally as possible.  Formal from Khlas was ever a ruse.

La'ra chuckled, and left the Marine to his work.

In his corner of the warehouse, Woram was still busy.  His com gear could communicate with things other than the ship.  La'ra leaned over the makeshift workstation.
"Several possibilities, Commander."  The Petty Officer reported.  Wandering about the city asking about Shax or his daughter would only make someone suspicious.  It didn't really matter who.  There were other ways to find someone, especially on Korsham, which did put up the front of being a Federation colony. 

"Why these places?"  La'ra asked, looking at the coordinates, the addresses, on Woram's screen.

"Andorians living in each one."  Woram explained.  "Or at least someone who likes Andorian food and uses Andorian medicine and buys it locally.  Couldn't get into the colony's financial records, but these all have...murky ownership.  And I ruled out the hovels."

La'ra nodded.  It was as good a place to start as any.  He looked over his shoulder.  Khlas was burning the paint off the hover truck.  Another use for a disruptor set lower than usual.  A helper was cutting on it, changing the profile.  They were working quickly.

"Let's get started."  The Commander snarled.

[kadh2000]

lookout announced that Klas had returned. 
 Khlas I suppose.
He could certainly recognize the Hiv'laposh even when she was floating next to another D-6.  Someone might be similarly attached to the panel truck.
Nice attention to detail by these guys
Another use for a disruptor set lower than usual.
The Disrupter is the Klingon version of the Swiss Army Knife

Little bits can be very precise just because they are so small.

[Grim Reaper]

all these alternate uses for the disruptor makes me think of that "Setting disruptors to stun" story. I laughed my ass of.

@Larry: I'm liking it so far and the lack of action doesn't bother me yet. Nice find, looking for the andorian via a hacker. But some comic relief via a guy/gal with Andor-philia.

[Hstaphath_XC]

BUMP!

Still waiting for more of this... or very bad embarassing things might happen to La'ra at the Battle of Five Armies.

Hmmm... has this been done before?  Story plot blackmail?   

[Commander La'ra]

....

Now that's incentive.  Gimme a week.

[Hstaphath_XC]

Now that's incentive.  Gimme a week.

Qapla'!!!

[Commander La'ra]

Short, but I'm pretty proud of this sequence...

-----------------

The smaller vehicle turned easier, went faster, and the controls weren't too unlike a shuttlecraft.  After some clumsy familiarization, La'ra chose it over the panel truck.

"The Marines are armor trained."  Leral pointed out.  "They'll feel more at home with it."

La'ra nodded, pressing his right foot down.  That made the vehicle go faster.  Most Klingon designs had the throttle as a hand control.  They also used a control stick;  the wheel the Commander gripped tightly seemed an odd way of doing things.  The skimmer eased it's way between old warehouses and bare stretches of concrete.

"Lonely world."  The Science Officer observed.

"We've yet to reach the city."  La'ra reminded.  His voice had a distracted quality, his eyes dividing their time between unfamiliar displays and the thankfully empty road.

"Still doesn't seem like we're in Federation territory."

"We're not.  Not really.  Intelligence hasn't seen a Starfleet ship here in years."

"Plenty of pirates."

"After the mining efforts moved elsewhere the governor opened the repair docks to anyone who could pay."

"Mining efforts?"

"These warehouses used to be full."  The Commander stated.  Some of the buildings bore the faded logos of Federation firms.  "Not everyone wanted to leave."

"So their ruler let in criminals."

"For a percentage.  And for defense.  I doubt Starfleet would respond quickly if this place were attacked."

"That could be something to think about."  Leral smiled her predator's smile.  La'ra chuckled.

"It could be."  He admitted.  The buildings about them seemed more used now, but newer even if they were not.  There was no dividing line between barren and populated.  Civilization faded in, like a warship emerging from cloak.

"Turn left at the next opportunity."  advised Turg, the Marine in the back seat with the tricorder.  He was studying maps, directions.  La'ra turned.

There were people on the streets now.  It was midday.  Vendors shouted, people of various races headed to and fro, and for the first time, there was other traffic to think about.  La'ra exhaled and sped up;  the other transports were all moving faster than his.

"How far?"  He asked.

"Three kellicams."  Turg reported.  The Marine's rifle lay on the seat beside him.  "Turn right."

The next turn revealed a strip of bars, clubs, brothels, all lit with garish light despite it being midday.  Domed cities had no real day or night.  Obvious prostitutes prowled their corners.

"Hard to believe we're in the Federation."  Leral reiterated.

"No more human propoganda films for you."  La'ra chuckled.

“Right.”  Turg grunted.  La’ra could see only one place to turn that direction, a narrow side street not far ahead.

“Thirty meters…”  Turg informed.  La’ra frowned.  He’d hoped to approach his enemy’s lair more cautiously.  If this was the place, the street led right past it.

“I don’t think this is it.”  Leral mused.  La’ra glanced out the window.  The building was a bar.  Bright neon announced that it featured a troupe of Andorian dancers.  Bare, Blue, and Beautiful.

“It could still be worth investigating.”  Turg chortled.

“Later.”  La’ra advised.  Leral snorted in mock offense and grinned.

[Scottish Andy]

A nice little segment. Lines I like:

...the wheel the Commander gripped tightly seemed an odd way of doing things.

Good alien perspective!

Civilization faded in, like a warship emerging from cloak.

Nice descriptive licence!

La'ra exhaled and sped up;  the other transports were all moving faster than his.

Making fun of the 7-foot Klingon's nervousness; no doubt he'd call it "commendable caution in an unfamiliar vehicle". 

"Hard to believe we're in the Federation."  Leral reiterated.

"No more human propoganda films for you."  La'ra chuckled.

 

And finally, I like the 'Bare, Blue and Beautiful' banter with Turg, La'ra and Leral.

[GFLGeeman]

<S>

Scottish Andy, nice to see another scot around.

Let me introduce myself - I am GFLGeeman, Praetor of The Romulan Star Empire.Galactic Foreign Legion.

I'm from Edinburgh,but now live in Kirkcaldy  and you?

<S>

[Hstaphath_XC]

Short, but I'm pretty proud of this sequence...

Hmmm... is this an "it's not the size, it's how I use it" comment?   

First rate work, MORE PLEASE!

To be fair, I will try to post my next scene today.

[Governor Ronjar]

Ah...even La'ra admits in his own fiction that he drives slowly...

Need more updates, though I am somewhat fond of these short tidbits.

--thu guv!

[Scottish Andy]

Hello Gleeman, I'm  an Edinburgher too, but I now live in Toronto. IM or email me if you like, so we don't hijack La'ra's story thread.

[Commander La'ra]

No.  I didn't forget about it.

-----

The next two locations were equally fruitless. 

“How many more on the list?”  La’ra rumbled.

“Around twelve.”  said Turg.

La’ra shook his head.  The locations Woram had found were scattered widely, and there was no way to know which were real possibilities and which were strip clubs or simple residences.

The Commander eyes a person strolling down the road.  A Klingon, one of several he’s seen.  He hadn’t expected that on an ostensibly Federation world, but then, it was a pirate haven and plenty of battle seeking warriors had signed up raiding crews.  Could he risk talking to one of them?

No;  if they were pirate crew, their first loyalty would be to their compatriots -- which was as it should be, really -- and if they weren’t they’d chosen to live here for a reason.  There were few reasons to live on Khorsham for those who were trustworthy, Klingon or no.

Patience, he told himself.

Three more potential locales also offered nothing.  One was, amazingly enough, a florist.

“I thought Andoria was frozen.”  Turg grunted, staring at the sign offering native blooms.

“I’m sure parts of it are,” replied Leral.  The Marine shook his head and gave more directions.  La’ra found that his surroundings were becoming a bit more upscale.  Businesses that were obviously doing well.  Homes, once they passed into residential territory, that didn’t involve floors upon floor of closet-sized sleeping quarters.

“That place is guarded…”  Leral said, pointing to a large home.  Two humans lingered near it’s gates, with rifles and armor.  They were obvious, but the cameras and sensor modules scattered around weren’t.

“So is the next one…”  Turg growled. 

“How far to the next prospect?”

“A minute at most.”  The Marine replied.

“I think we’ve found it.”  La’ra grumbled.  “How close to the port facilities are we?”

“Running distance.”  Leral frowns, consulting her own tricorder.  “And very close to the governor’s residence.”

La’ra nods.  These would be the captain’s homes, the residences of the more respected privateers that the governor wanted to keep happy, and wanted to keep an eye on.  The Andorian wasn’t a typical thug.  He would qualify for such accommodations. 

“The next house.”  Turg warned.

“Passive sweep.”  La’ra barked.  Leral hastily adjusted her tricorder.  There were plenty of cars passing through, but La’ra has no doubt that a unfamiliar skimmer passing by more than once would be noted.

The home wasn’t palatial, but it was far from squalor, especially for a domed colony world.  There were guards, two of them, at the front gate with rifles, plus the usual accessories.

“They’ve got a lot of defensive sweeps running.”  Leral informed.  “Transporter screen, active life form searches, EM signature from several kinds of weapons…”

La’ra grinned, slightly.  He kept driving, past the captain’s homes.  He was near the edge of city dome, where the smaller environmental bubble that housed the port joined to the main enclosure.  He could see shuttles lifting off through thick transparisteel.

“Do we check the others?”  Turg asked.

“Yes,”  La’ra chuckled.

“How do we know she lives with him?”  Leral asked, then paused.  “Wait…you weren’t expecting him to have a setup like this, were you? ”

“I’d feared he would be less obvious.”  La’ra admitted.  “Of course now we have a different problem.”

“How to get in?”

“No…how to watch without them knowing.”  La’ra smiled.

[Grim Reaper]

yeah more laary goodness! Now GIMME MORE!

[Scottish Andy]

This is another nice little continuation segment in terms of content. nice banter, good feeling of camaraderie between officers and enlisted, Fleet and Marine.  The problem shifts a little at the end, and getting there was done the long way instead of skipping to the end for convenience's sake. Duer diligence was performed.

And so, the bad. Damn, the technical quality leaves a lot to be desired. Were you in a rush, writing this?

You mix your tenses like nobody's business in this one, Larry. You move from present tense into past tense in the same paragraph and successive lines of dialogue. "Leral said", "La'ra sees", "Turg chortled", "the Commander shook his head", "La'ra grumbles".

[Commander La'ra]

Grim:  It's nice to see that some things never change.

Andy:  There are upsides and downsides to writing at 4:17 a.m.

[Commander La'ra]

And some more...would be a larger tidbit, but La'ra himself forced me to rewrite the unposted section.  Overly aggressive bastard.

-------------------------


CHAPTER FOUR



“This…could take days.”  Woram warned.  It was planetary night outside.  The planet's dome had darkened, to create the illusion of a world where night and day were different.

“Then it will take days.”  La’ra shrugged.  “Some hunts are long.”

The younger Klingon’s computer screens displayed the Andorian’s home.  Guards went through their shifts, staff came and went, all as their personal schedule demanded.  In the twelve hours the Klingons had watched the place, they’d seen nothing La’ra felt worthy of investigation.

They had, however, confirmed that it was the right residence.  The daughter had appeared, in the late afternoon.  She’d exercised on the lawn, sparred in Andorian fashion (which meant knives) with one of the guards.  She’d been clothed the entire time, much to Turg’s blue-curious regret.

It was remotely possible that they were still sniffing the wrong targ.  The woman they’d watched through a clandestine splice into the city’s security net could be some other Andorian woman of the correct age with obvious military training who just happened to be holed up in what was looking increasingly like the home of a government-endorsed privateer, but La’ra was willing to take such a wild chance.

The Commander shook his head, and laughed quietly.

“Your shift is up anyway.”  He reminded Woram.  The NCO growled with relief, and stood.  One of the other Marines was next.  Khlas went after him.  Then Leral.  Then himself.

Days, he reminded himself.


*  *  *


Day came, harsh light from Khorsham's star streaming in as the dome became transparent for a few hours.  Night crept in with little fanfare.

The Klingons took turns monitoring their quarry, sitting idle for two hours each before standing, rubbing their irritated eyes, and moving on to some other activity.  The inside of the warehouse could withstand a decent assault now, with fire traps and barricades and other defensive preparations long since made.  And of course, it was kept clean.

Meals were local fare, acquired by Khlas in his guise as yet another ne’r-do-well Klingon for hire.  They had combat rations, but Klingons preferred real meat in their bellies.  They ate, waited, wrestled, cleaned their weapons, told stories of their battles, and occasionally their loves.

It was a valuable experience, La’ra knew.  A strengthening of bonds.  Not as good as combat, but worth having…provided the wait didn’t go on long enough to tempers to fray.

Ensign K’tal was taking a shift at the monitors when something new finally happened.

“Commander,” the Marine called.  La’ra rose from cleaning his disruptor.

“What’s happening?” 

“Someone we haven’t seen before,”  The Ensign declared.  He adjusted a camera.  A vehicle was arriving at the Andorian's home.  It looked somewhat expensive, the transport of someone who could afford some small amount of luxury.

The man who emerged was human, dressed well, La’ra supposed.  It was very hard to get a feel for another sentient being through computer images, but something about his body language seemed furtive, someone used to looking over his shoulder.  The guards conducted him indoors.

“Give me his image.”  La’ra growled.  Around him, other Marines were looking up with curiosity.  Leral, asleep on her mat, was stirring.

K’tal captured the new man’s face.  La’ra pulled out his communicator.

[Scottish Andy]

Another nice segment, but these bite-sized nibbles leave me hankering for one of the Guv's full courses.

She’d been clothed the entire time, much to Turg’s blue-curious regret.

Great line! Might just be because I'm blue-curious myself though... 

“Commander,” the Marine called.  La’ra rose from Klingon his disruptor.

Oopsie! Sumwan fourgot hiz editting at hoam!

[Commander La'ra]

“Commander,” the Marine called.  La’ra rose from Klingon his disruptor.

Oopsie! Sumwan fourgot hiz editting at hoam!
[/quote]

*pats you*

Good Andy.  Here's a cookie.

[Grim Reaper]

Is this cookie worthy also?

“This…could take days.”  Woram warned.  It was planetary night, the city’s dome having self-darkened to give the illusion of a world where that changed things.

and this triggered a LOL:

The woman they’d watched through a clandestine splice into the city’s security net could be some other Andorian woman of the correct age with obvious military training who just happened to be holed up in what was looking increasingly like the home of a government-endorsed privateer, but La’ra was willing to take such a wild chance.

And this:

The city dome had become transparent, allowing light in for a few happy hours.  Darkness fell again. 

doesn't flow as much as it could. perhaps something describing how daylight came and went? Or am I just missing stuff?

[Commander La'ra]

Yeah, I'll fix those.  Cookie awarded.

And no, I haven't really edited these before posting.  I really have gotten into the odd habit of writing at odd hours of the morning, and thus, many times I never get around to going back and look at sentences I mangled in my drowsy state.

[KBF-Frankk]

hail, la'ra, where is the rest?

[KBF-Frank]

bump to front