Reap the Whirlwind

“Aye, sir,” Pzial replied. The data on the overhead display paged back one screen’s worth of data, showing more selections from a very limited Klingon-English translation menu.

Pointing at the screen, Okagawa asked Xav, “Why are these words not in alphabetical order?”

“But they are, sir,” Xav said. “Our phonetic renderings of tlhIngan use the uppercase and lowercase Q characters to distinguish different pronunciations. In a translation dictionary, words that begin with the lowercase Q are listed before those that begin with the capital Q.”

“So,” Okagawa said, “for all we know, the word that Pzial transcribed from the Klingons’ coded message might not be Qul but qul. The Klingon common noun for ‘fire.’ ” He looked at zh’Rhun. “Care to parse that into a familiar idiom, Commander?”

“Cleansing fire,” the Andorian first officer said with a grim realization.

Walking back to his chair, Okagawa remarked, “Yeah. That sounds like the Klingons I know and love.” He sat down. “Commander, what’s the ETA for the Endeavour?”

“Twenty-five hours and forty-nine minutes,” zh’Rhun said.

Okagawa shook his head. “This could be over by then.” He signed the command authorization on his data slate and handed it to a yeoman, who carried it to the communications officer. “Pzial,” the captain said, “add that intercepted signal to the report we’re sending to Vanguard, and let them know what we think it means. After that, get al-Khaled back on the horn; tell him to pack up and bug out. I’m not letting trouble catch us with our pants down this time.”

“Sir,” zh’Rhun asked, “what about the colonists?”

He nodded. “We’ll warn them,” he said. “They’ve got their own ships, enough to carry a few thousand people. Anyone who wants a ride with us can come along,” he said, “but no luggage, no gear, nothing. We can evac a few hundred guests if we dump our cargo. Endeavour can carry a couple thousand.”

As if fearing reproach for stating the obvious, Xav said, “Captain, there are more than eleven thousand colonists on Gamma Tauri IV. Your evacuation scenario would leave nearly fifty percent of them stranded in the event of a disaster.”

“I know, Xav,” Okagawa said, staring at the reddish-brown world turning slowly on the main viewscreen. Something terrible was stirring on the surface of that world, and Okagawa had no idea how to stop it. All he could do was prepare to meet it head-on. “Commander,” he said, “take the ship to yellow alert.”

15

Commander BelHoQ was in search of perfection on the bridge of the Klingon battle cruiser Zin’za. As the first officer of one of its newest warships, he took pride in his job performance, and he expected nothing less than exemplary work from all those who served as members of his crew.

“Kreq,” he said as he passed the communications officer. “Tell spacedock to prepare for our departure.” Moving along to the weapons station, he slapped the shoulder of tactical officer Tonar. “Run a battle drill exactly thirty-one minutes after we go to warp,” he instructed the lieutenant. “Don’t a

Lieutenant Ohq, the chief engineer, replied over the comm, “What do you want, bridge?”

“What I want, Ohq, is full power and all systems ready for launch in ten minutes,” BelHoQ snapped. “And if I don’t get it, there won’t be a crawlspace on this ship deep enough or dark enough to keep me from feeding you to the captain’s targ.”

“The engines are ready for space, Commander,” Ohq said, his tone all bluster and bravado. “If you want to know where the delay is, try the cargo deck. Engineering out.”

Ohq cut the cha

His hail was met by a din of falling containers, shouting voices, and overtaxed machinery. The longer BelHoQ listened to the chaotic opera of ineptitude over the speaker, the angrier he became, and the harder the rest of the bridge crew laughed. The first officer’s rage finally exploded from him, too potent to be restrained. “Urgoz, you damned Qovpatlh! If I have to go belowdecks to get an answer from you, no one will ever find your body!”

After a few more thuds of tumbling cargo, Urgoz, the cargo chief, spoke over the comm, sounding winded and harried. “Sir.”

“What in Gre’thor is going on down there?” BelHoQ demanded.

A few huffs of breath preceded Urgoz’s reply. “Just a few problems, Commander. One of the new hands didn’t secure the stacks as ordered. It’s under—” He was interrupted by another clanging ruckus that quickly gave way to silence. As if nothing had happened, Urgoz finished, “It’s under control, sir.”

BelHoQ stifled the laughing bridge officers with a glare. “How long before you’re ready for space, Urgoz?”

“Twenty-five minutes,” Urgoz said.

“You’ve got ten,” BelHoQ said. “Don’t be late. Bridge out.” He cut the cha

All the officers and enlisted men snapped to attention and faced Kutal as he walked to his chair and sat down. “As you were,” he growled. Everyone except BelHoQ resumed preparations for spacedock departure. The first officer moved to stand at the captain’s left side.

“The knuckle-draggers in cargo are lagging again,” he said. “Ready for space in fifteen minutes, sir.”

Kutal grunted and glowered at the image of the spaceport on the main viewscreen. “The sooner the better,” he confided to BelHoQ. “Been here too long as it is.”

The Zin’za had been docked in orbit of Borzha II for more than a week, repairing the damage sustained on its last jaunt to the Jinoteur system. None of the crew, BelHoQ included, was eager to return to that star system. The captain did not seem to share the crew’s lack of enthusiasm. Ever since the mission to Palgrenax, he had behaved like a man driven by restless demons. “Start prelaunch systems check,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” BelHoQ replied, and he nodded to the others, who had turned and looked at him for confirmation. They went back to work, their focus now entirely on their duties. The XO asked the captain, “Do I get to know why we cut our repairs two days short?”

Kutal cast a wary glance around the bridge, then replied in a low rasp, “A Starfleet scout ship sent a distress call from Jinoteur. We’re to capture the ship for analysis and its crew for interrogation.” He jerked a thumb toward Tonar. “Tell him only when he needs to know. Tell the others only when the mission is done.”

“Understood, Captain.”

A deep buzzing sound and a green warning light on the tactical console drew fiery stares from BelHoQ and the captain. The first officer stalked quickly across the bridge to Tonar’s station. “Report,” he commanded.

“Sensor malfunction,” Tonar said. “Primary array offline, power spikes in the secondary array.” He looked back at BelHoQ. “If we leave port now, we’ll be flying blind, sir.”

BelHoQ heard the captain’s heavy footsteps approaching and felt their ominous vibrations through the deck. “Those systems were just repaired,” Kutal said. “What’s going on, BelHoQ?”

“Either Fek’lhr himself has defecated inside our sensor array,” BelHoQ replied, “or Chief Engineer Ohq just earned himself forty jabs with a painstik.”