Taking Wing - Michael A. Martin [116]
“Any idea who hit us?” he asked.
“It’s not immediately clear,” Jaza said, his hands playing over his console. “Both the Romulan and Reman ships are firing at each other. I’m not certain that salvo was even meant for us.”
Riker looked to the forward viewscreen, where he saw what must have been several dozen ships engaged in aggression. Angry red disruptor beams ionized the night sky, briefly seeming to entangle one vessel with another in a lethal cat’s cradle. “Give us some distance,” he said. “Maybe we took fire because we’re too close.”
As Lieutenant Rager and Ensign Lavena entered course corrections into their respective conn and ops consoles, Riker turned to Vale, who was seated at his right. “Tell the Phoebus, T’rin’saz, and the Der Sonnenaufgang to withdraw from disruptor range.”
“Yes, sir,” Vale said, tapping commands into her armrest console. The Starfleet aid ships had already moved to a one-thousand-kilometer orbit over Romulus, but that still wouldn’t necessarily keep them entirely out of harm’s way if the gunners on either side of the Romulan-Reman conflict decided to target the convoy deliberately.
Riker started to turn toward Tuvok, Spock, and Akaar, intending to ask the admiral to escort both Vulcans down to sickbay, when another blast rocked the ship. A spray of sparks arced out of a conduit above the upper corner of the main viewscreen, which blacked out a moment later. Riker stumbled to one side, thrown against a railing as Titan’s inertial dampers kicked in, righting the deck.
“Get that screen back on line,” Riker ordered, swallowing a curse. “In the meantime, activate every other available monitor so we can see what’s happening out there.”
As he moved to the aft end of the bridge, several monitors had already taken up the forward viewscreen’s slack.
“Shields down to forty-eight percent, Captain,” Keru said. Riker could hear the timbre of concern in his voice.
“The Klingons are moving in toward us, but they’re not firing at the Romulans,” Jaza said. “They appear to be taking up defensive positions between Titan and the skirmish line.”
“Circling the wagons,” Riker heard Deanna say while he studied one of the tactical displays and considered his options.
He spared a quick glance toward Akaar, Tuvok, and Spock. The expressions on all three faces were inscrutable, but Riker knew they were probably contemplating the same question he was; how to defend the ship without actually engaging in—or escalating—the developing battle. If the Klingons are holding back, Riker thought, then Khegh must have decided that the Romulans have him overmatched, and that today isn’t such a good day to die.
The turbolift doors opened, and a pair of engineers stepped onto the bridge, carrying their tools on a small hovering platform. Riker barely spared them a glance.
“Mr. Keru, can you target just the weapons on those ships?” Riker asked. If Titan could force both sides to stop firing at each other for at least a while, then some other more permanent solution might present itself.
“Hard to say, Captain,” Keru said, frowning at his monitors. “We’ve taken some damage. But I think I can get a lock on the weapons of some of those older ships the Remans are using.”
“Lieutenant Rager, get me Khegh,” Riker said. A moment later, the scowling visage of the burly Klingon general appeared on one of the monitors.
“A touchy situation, is it not, Captain Riker?” Khegh said, baring his yellow teeth in a fierce smile.
“General, we need to stop the hostilities,” Riker said. “Do you have any influence over the Remans?”
Khegh’s smile disappeared. “They seem to have chosen their course, Captain. I doubt we could dissuade them.” He assayed a guileless expression, but failed miserably. “And truthfully, why should we want to?”
“We are prepared to target only the weapons systems of the Reman ships,” Riker said, feeling a trickle of cold sweat begin to run down the