The Art of the Impossible

“Take aim at the lead ship and fire.”

“Sir, they haven’t—”

“The Foreheads don’t decloak like that unless they mean to kill us,” Monor snapped. “Fire on them!”

Ekron followed his orders, and phaser fire slammed into one of the Birds-of-Prey’s shields.

“Evasive maneuvers. Give us some distance, and get us the hell out of orbit.”

“Birds-of-Prey are trying to hem us in, sir. And they’re firing.”

The Sontokfelt the impact of the Klingon disruptor fire. Monor checked his display. The Klingons were surrounding them on three sides, blocking all the best avenues for escape.

Fine, we’ll take one of the worst ones.He quickly calculated the course necessary to achieve the proper angle. Haven’t done this in years, and it was with a ship a lot smaller than this one.

“Set course 113 mark 9—and yes,Ekron, I know that’ll take us further into the atmosphere. Specifically, it’ll take us in at an angle to bounce off the atmosphere.”

“Laying in course now, sir,” Ekron said, stock still as ever.

“When I give the word,” Monor said, “adjust attitude and pitch by forty-five degrees.” He waited, watching the readings on the screen in front of him.

Another impact. “Shields are down to forty percent, sir.”

“Are they pursuing us into the atmosphere?”

Ekron nodded. “Yes, sir, but Birds-of-Prey are atmospheric craft.”

“Can’t be helped, Gli

The ship lurched, as the Sontokmade a course change not mandated by the instruments, and therefore slowing the reaction time of the inertial dampeners and artificial gravity. The ship then shot out of orbit at nearly full impulse.

“Set ship’s course to match,” Monor said. No sense fighting where the ricochet was taking them.

“Now at 94 mark 2, seven-eighths impulse speed.” Ekron looked up at Monor. “The Klingons are pursuing.”

“Arm aft phasers and torpedoes and fire on the first ship that comes into range. Increase our speed to full impulse.”

“Yes, sir.” Ekron looked down at his console, the light again casting odd shadows on his deep ridges. “Sir, the Klingons are taking up a wide formation—only one ship will come into weapons range, and that won’t be for five minutes.”

Monor got up from his chair, ignoring the squeak. This wasn’t good. The Klingon captain was driving him from the planet. He needed to even the odds—individually, the Birds-of-Prey were no match for an Akril-class ship, but the three of them could pick away at him until he was dead. And no way to know when reinforcements will arrive.

“Reverse course, bring us about and hit them with everything we have. Then set an intercept course with the Third Order, warp eight.”

“Sir, if they pursue us—”

“They won’t,” Monor said confidently. “They must have intercepted our message about the remains and want to claim it for themselves. We’ll let them have it for now—and return with the Third Order and take it right back from them.”

“Very good, sir. Firing on lead ship.”

Monor looked at his display. The Sontok’s phasers plowed through the shields of one of the Klingon vessels, then came about and—taking several dozen disruptor hits—went into warp.

“Shields down to ten percent. Warp drive intact, and holding course at warp eight. No sign of pursuit.”

Nodding, Monor said, “As expected. Fine, let them think they’ve won. Knowing them, they’ll be drinking to their victory within the hour. What’s that stuff they like, blood vinegar?”

“Bloodwine, sir.”

“I’ve tasted it, Gli

“Of course, sir. I doubt that the Klingons will be able to penetrate the force fields or the transporter inhibitors.”

“Good.” Monor sat back down in his chair, wincing at the squeak. Dammit, I’ve already picked out my retirement spot. No Forehead’s takingthat from me.

Chapter 5

I.K.S. Wo’bortas

“What do you mean we can’t getat it?”

Qaolin was furious. They had victory within their grasp—they had Ch’gran within their grasp! And now Narrk was telling him that they could not actually close their fists around the prize.

The captain rose from his desk and stood over Narrk, wanting once again to remind the first officer of his lesser height.

“The site is surrounded by force fields of various kinds,” Narrk said quietly. “We ca

And yet, even as Qaolin was fulfilling his dream, the dream of every warrior who served the Empire, he felt it slipping through his fingers. Damn those Cardassian animals for soiling our sacred past!

“We’ve done everything we can,” Narrk said almost petulantly. “The force field ca

“Try harder.” Qaolin handed the padd back to Narrk. “Return to the surface. I am holding you personally responsible for allowing us access to the Ch’gran remains, Commander. The next time I see you will be either your informing me that you have succeeded or my informing you of your imminent death.”

Narrk smoldered, but said nothing. He simply grabbed the padd from Qaolin’s hands and departed.

For two days, Narrk supervised the work of engineers from all three Birds-of-Prey, a number that increased once repairs to the vessels damaged by the Sontokwere complete. However, nothing could get through. The only solution that presented itself was to destroy the inhibitors and force field generators, but that could not be accomplished without damaging the Ch’gran remains, and that Qaolin would not authorize. Were it not for those remains, Qaolin would be more than happy to leave this rock to the Cardassians. This world had no mineral resources that the Empire could not obtain from worlds actually within their borders. This area of space was wholly undesirable, so much so that Qaolin found himself wondering how Ch’gran’s fleet wound up here.

By the end of the second day, Qaolin assumed that the fleet had gathered in the Betreka Nebula. According to the orders he had received from Command shortly after the Sontok’s departure, they would assemble there and wait to see what actions the Cardassians would take. The Wo’bortaswould remain on station with its two brother ships for the time being. If the Cardassians returned with superior forces, Qaolin’s orders were to lead them to the nebula, and then the battle would be joined.

Then we shall truly learn how strong the Cardassian military is,Qaolin thought.

Still, he was concerned. The fleet being sent consisted of only six Birok-class cruisers—not exactly the cream of the fleet. Again, this system’s location proved problematic. Command was not willing to commit a massive deployment to such a remote region.