Ship of the Line - Diane Carey [1]
“We have allowed it to leak out that there will be a border dispute in the Federation’s Benecia sector, approximately two hours at maximum warp from this point and six hours from Starbase 12. Now all Federation Starfleet vessels in the sector are on their way to the Benecia border of the Neutral Zone, assuming battle is coming with the Klingon fleet. Our fleet is there, yes, but with no plans to cross the Neutral Zone. Their purpose is only to make sure the Starfleet commanders think there will be trouble.”
“And stay there long enough for us to cut across the Typhon Expanse and decimate a great structure,” Kozara filled in with relish. His eerie green eyes sparkled. “Even the Enterprise will be drawn away. And the night sky over Starbase 12 will be ours to light.”
Kozara was not old, yet he was deeply experienced, and still over the years of service glory had escaped him. Most of his crew were somewhat disappointed with their assignment with him. Gaylon would not go so far as pity, but there was an awareness among the crew that their commander greatly needed a victory. And such as this—monumental!
An entire starbase! In its place would be scattered bits of flotsam and shredded bodies forever in orbit, a bizarre museum of this day’s conquest. And forever the Klingon Empire would be taken seriously by the Federation. The names of Kozara, Gaylon, and every member of this crew would be elevated in the imperial hierarchy.
Some of the commander’s hunger infected Gaylon as he stood here only steps from Kozara. The ship was old, large, and powerful, and the bridge strictly utilitarian, most of the positions barely leaving room for elbows to move freely. Whoever designed this ship knew what ships were for, and that there was little sensible need for space in space.
Gaylon’s thoughts were driven out as Kozara suddenly came to his feet, lifting his war-injured left hand as if it were a torch.
“Across the Neutral Zone!” he declared. “We have fifty thousand to kill, a starbase to shatter, and my son’s legacy to ignite! Helm, plot a course across the Federation Neutral Zone. Enter the Typhon Expanse!”
Chapter 2
The year 2278
Fries-Posnikoff Sector, Klingon Neutral Zone Border Bridge of the U.S.S. Bozeman
“Oh, that’s wicked good. Isn’t it?”
“Gabe, it is. An old-fashioned rum tot at change of watch can’t be beat. Adding cinnamon and—what’s that other thing?”
“Vanilla. Got it from my grandmother, sir. She liked her rum after a voyage.”
“Best thing since synthesized mamba venom. You’ve got the strongest sense of family I’ve ever heard of. Me, I don’t even know who my father was. It was just my mother and me, and she didn’t talk much about her past. Hurt too much.”
“I’m so sorry, sir.”
“Well, those of us who have no anchorage … we just have to build our own. Now, you keep some of this stuff aside for Captain Spock and the two new men. Better initiate our new lieutenants right—with a slug’a rum.”
“I have theirs here on the upper deck, sir. And we’ve picked up the Enterprise on long-range. They’re almost here.”
“Entiproyse … I love that accent, Gabe. Never lose that.”
“Clings like lint, don’t worry.”
First Officer Gabriel Bush saw his captain smother a grin and grinned himself. The captain had on a properly mournful expression laced with just enough bastard nobility as he talked about having no family to trace. Now Bush was obliged, as always, to suffer along with his poor rootless commander.
“Mmm,” his captain said. “We really ought to dispense this with meals too. Call down to the galley and tell them it’s a direct order. Rum with all meals.”
“Breakfast?” Bush commented. “What a happy crew we’d have. We’d have to cut it down to grog. We can’t program food good enough to absorb the real thing.”
“You cook, then.”
“Oh, anytime. Corn flake stew, corn flake casserole, corn flake kabobs, corn flake pie, and rotisserie cornflakes.”
“What about corn flakes with strawberries?”
“Never. Too pedestrian.”
“You know I’m a peasant, Gabe.”
“You are, sir.”
“You ahh, suhh—damn, wish I could sound like that! Lend me