Myriad Universes 02_ Echoes and Refractions - Keith R. A. DeCandido [66]
The Andorian walked back to the platform in the center of the bridge and, stepping up to the chair, paused, perhaps as a subconscious act of deference to Kirk’s memory. Then he turned and seated himself. “Status report?” he inquired, pensively studying the viewscreen.
“We are now fifteen point two parsecs inside the borders of Klingon space,” Chekov announced from the navigator station. “Arrival at the Qo’noS system in twenty-two minutes, current speed.”
“All readings nominal at the helm, Admiral,” announced Sulu.
“Communication channels are quiet, Admiral,” Uhura said. “No indications that our presence is known.”
“Mr. Scott?” Thelin called into the ship’s intercom.
“Aye, sir,” Scott’s voice was heard over the speakers. “Cloaking device is operatin’ within normal parameters. Warp engines are at optimal efficiency…at least, optimal fer this Klingon junk heap.”
Thelin smiled at the observation. Indeed, the environment was cramped, dimly lit, and certainly showed little concern for aesthetics or ergonomics, but the crew had adapted well, especially since it was less than two weeks ago that they had received their orders to take the captured bird-of-prey into Klingon space.
The meeting itself had been something of a surprise. Certainly Starfleet’s top brass had been gathering more often as a major incursion into Klingon space was being planned, but that operation was still months away…and most unexpectedly, this particular meeting had been called by Federation President Ra-ghoratreii himself.
Thelin had arrived on Vulcan just as the sun had reached its noon zenith, and although Andorians didn’t mind the heat, and in fact preferred a warmer climate than that on their mostly icy homeworld, he nonetheless felt as if he had stepped off the transporter pad into a blast furnace. Luckily, it was a short walk from the outdoor transport station to the security checkpoint at the front entrance to the ShiKahr High Council Chambers, where the Federation president had temporarily established the seat of the government.
As the guards pored over his credentials, Thelin stared up at the palatial, ancient stone architecture of the Vulcan Council building, with its smoothly rounded abutments, sweeping skyward to meet at the tops of gently pointed towers. Nothing similar existed on Andor; but then, Andorian architecture tended to be more practical, built in piecemeal fashion as needs demanded.
The Federation Council was not currently in session, so the corridors of the building were relatively deserted as Thelin made his way to the designated council chamber. Within minutes he stepped off the lift and through an ornate set of doors into a spacious room, where two uniformed Starfleet admirals were already seated around a symmetrical but irregularly shaped conference table. At the head of the table sat Federation President Ra-ghoratreii, a look of severe consternation not quite hidden behind the Efrosian’s long white facial hair.
The president rose from his seat and bowed from the shoulders to Thelin. “Admiral th’Valrass, thank you for arriving on such short notice.”
“I am here to serve at your pleasure, Mr. President,” Thelin replied, returning the bow.
The Efrosian gestured to the left side of the table. “I believe you know the Starfleet commander in chief, Admiral West.”
The well-groomed middle-aged man, a human, stood and held out his hand. “Of course he does,” he said. “It’s good to see you again, Thelin.”
Thelin took the proffered hand and gripped it tightly. “Admiral,” he said. “So you have finally decided to retire the title of 'Colonel’?”
“Hell, it’s been forever and a day since I served in the special forces,” West replied. “But now that we’ve lost Morrow, and they asked me to run this dog-and-pony show, I figured it’s best to keep things simple in the chain of command.” A smile spread out beneath his mustache. “But for