Lost Era 06_ Catalyst of Sorrows - Margaret Wander Bonanno [129]
“Imperial warbird…” Had to give Tuvok credit for trying. “… why are you powering weapons? I repeat, we are a civilian vessel. We are prepared-“
The answer was a phaser blast that, had Sisko not flung the clumsy bird into evasive, would have blown them into smithereens. Instead it swatted the ship off course, drained the shields down to forty percent, and set off an alarm somewhere that Sisko hadn’t even known the ship had.
“A little better aim and we’re finished,” he told Tuvok unnecessarily, readying to throw her into a new evasive pattern before the next blast. “C’mon, Okinawa, where are you?”
It was a peculiar artifact of Romulan ships that they were rather poorly designed acoustically. Depending upon the class of ship, they all made some sort of sound. Some hummed, some whined, some expressed themselves in a kind of low waspish buzz, but they all gave voice. One would think a species so acute of hearing would have remedied this long ago. Or perhaps the ships were designed that way deliberately, to keep the crew always on edge, always combat ready.
As if the background noise weren’t annoying enough, seasoned veterans swore they could feel the weapons fire vibrate through the soles of their boots before they heard it. New recruits usually scoffed at them, until they felt it for themselves.
Some commanders, it was said, could feel the weapons even before they fired, the way a cat senses a thunderclap or a bird an earthquake long before a human does. After more than a century in space, Tal could feel the weapons in his bones. Even as Koval said, “Weapons, target and fire” he was out of his chair shouting “Belay that!”
But if Helm was nervous, Weapons was more so, and he’d triggered one phaser blast, however badly aimed, before he could stop himself. But Tal’s wrath was not for him. He fixed his glare on Koval.
“Weapons, stand down!” Tal addressed his crew, though his eyes had locked with Koval’s and he did not break his gaze. “You obey no order but mine. If Colonel Koval has a problem with that, he will have to speak to me. Now, you,” he said to Koval. “What, by the Elements, do you think you’re doing?”
“What am I doing?” Koval asked quietly. “Destroying a ship that should not be here in the first place.”
“Admiral?” Comm said, opening the channel so he could hear the voice from the merchanter demanding to know why they were being fired on. Tal listened, still glaring at Koval.
“That’s one of our own aboard. If you kill him without knowing who or why-“
“A Romulan? On that rattletrap?” Koval waved the idea away. “Weapons, overtake and fire.”
The weapons officer placed his hands on his knees, turning to look at Tal as if to say I can be killed for less.
Tal stalked over to stand all but nose to nose with Koval; they were about the same height, but Koval’s very posture spoke of inbreeding, decadence, where Tal was disciplined to the bone.
Technically Tal Shiar of Koval’s rank could commandeer the vessel and remove even an admiral from the bridge, but he’d find precious little assistance from Tal’s handpicked crew if he did. Concomitantly, Tal could see to it that Koval fell down a turboshaft or did something else equally stupid that might be expected of someone not used to a warbird’s hidden dangers, but he who had thus far had more lives than a h’vart might this time not survive. Stalemate.
“This is my ship,” Tal told Koval quietly, biting each word off distinctly. “We don’t fire unless I know why.”
Koval held Tal’s gaze, though the blue eyes were fierce, but his words were for the weapons officer. “Weapons, I told you to fire,” he said, his words as distinct as Tal’s.
“Admiral?” Helm sounded almost apologetic. “Unidentified vessel approaching at 107 mark 4. Configuration… Federation starship.”
Chapter 18
Now this was a target Admiral Tal would have no problem firing on if need be. Shrugging Koval off, he locked into the command chair.
“Engage cloak and come about. Bring us in line with her and maintain.” He looked at Koval