Ship of the Line - Diane Carey [12]
Trying to add up that leap in logic about Starbase 12, Bush eyed his captain critically. How did he know to think like that? Captain Bateson always had these long-range suppositions handy. Bush never could do that. He never could tell more than the breed of the bird in his hand.
The chilling words drove in a moment of silence. If true, this meant the Bozeman stood alone between jettison incendiaries and fifty-odd thousand innocent people on a starbase whose power was flickering. Starbase 12 wouldn’t be able to defend itself against anything like that ship.
Morgan Bateson kept his eyes on the Klingon ship, but moved slowly to Bush’s side.
“Gabe … I’m very sorry.”
“For what, sir?”
“I’m going to miss your wedding.”
Surprised, Bush frowned at him. “What? Why would you?”
The captain raised a hand and dropped it on Bush’s shoulder. His words were entirely dark.
“So are you. This just became a suicide mission.”
“Bulldog Bateson!”
Kozara stood up so quickly that Gaylon had to move out of the commander’s way.
They had expected a clear path. The Klingon main fleet had notified them that all known Starfleet ships were accounted for.
“Mistakes!” Kozara roared. “Always a mistake stands between me and glory! How can this happen? A simple passage becomes an incident! There was supposed to be no ship here at all! Now I have to kill him!”
“What is he doing here?” Gaylon asked. “Why is he here instead of with his fleet?”
“He must have damage. One ship, one ship …” Pacing like an animal, Kozara thrashed back and forth before his command center, then went behind it and thrashed across the deck again. “We blank his communication, but only if we stay here … if we go on, he sends a message and we are compromised. How long to reach Starbase 12 …?”
“Three full hours at warp factor five,” Gaylon reminded, though Kozara knew very well the distance and time.
“… and only moments to communicate with Starfleet …”
Kozara muttered and spat his words, some clear, others garbled, and Gaylon was careful not to interrupt his commander’s efforts to think clearly through the obvious anger boiling beneath. Blocked! By one small ship! The mission of the decade, and one border patroler had stumbled into their way.
Truly Kozara’s fortunes were shortfallen. Gaylon glanced around at the bridge crew and saw roaring disappointment in their faces. If Kozara never saw glory, they never would either.
Gaylon held out a hand to calm them, and hoped Kozara didn’t see.
“He must be damaged,” Kozara said, glaring at the border patrol ship. Instantly dropping his rage for something more functional, Kozara reached past the tactical officer and clicked the sensor board for himself, scanning the bulldog’s ship. “Otherwise, why would he stay here when his fleet goes somewhere else?”
The science officer shook his head. “But I read full power to all his systems, Commander.”
“A lie,” Kozara said. “He would never linger here with such a threat in the next sector. His main drive must be crippled.”
“Sir,” the tactical officer began, “he is moving to block our way.”
“Is he using full impulse power?”
“Yes, but his plasma flow is … reserved.”
“Can we destroy him? Are our systems functioning?”
“We are charging them now, Commander. Everything was inhibited for silent running, as you ordered. We did not expect a fight yet—”
“I will get you the time to rig out of silence. Hurry.”
All watched as the smaller ship swung slowly around to face them and climbed toward the SoSoy tuj’s flight path. Rusker nearly laughed, but some inner warning checked him.
Because Kozara was not laughing.
“Keep the communications blanket on,” the commander said, “but give me short-range subspace. I wish to speak to the dog.”
“Morgan Bateson the dog. We stand again before each other.”
“Kozara the butterfly … yes, we do. Sorry about your mother.”
“It was her time to die.”
“You’re wearing different clothing.”
“Much larger clothing. I see that your little lights are flashing at me in the night.”
Bateson’s eyes glittered and he nodded, even though