Taking Wing - Michael A. Martin [41]
Seated next to flight controller Chief Axel Bolaji, Lieutenant Sariel Rager didn’t turn from her ops station as she ran her brown fingers quickly over several controls. On the large central viewscreen, a trio of predatory-looking Vor’cha-class cruisers hovered in formation. “The Klingons have disengaged their weaponry and are standing down,” she said. On the screen, a graphic overlay of a red circle glowed brightly around one of the ships for a moment, corresponding to commands Vale saw Rager giving to her ops panel. “This is the I.K.S. Quv,” she said, then the second ship lit, and she added, “and the I.K.S. Dugh.” The central ship was highlighted now. “The lead ship is the I.K.S. Vaj. Her commander has already hailed us and asks that you return the honor, Captain.”
As Vale took her seat on Riker’s right, her mind raced to retrieve the Klingon she had studied at Starfleet Academy. She pointed to each of the ships in turn, and said, “I believe that ‘Dugh’ means ‘to be vigilant,’ ‘Quv’ means ‘honor,’ and the lead ship, ‘Vaj,’ is ‘warrior.’ ”
“That’s got to be the seventeenth ship named ‘Vaj’ that I’ve heard of,” Riker said, half smirking. He turned his head slightly, speaking over his shoulder to address Keru, who was stationed behind him on the upper level. “Stand down yellow alert.”
“Yes, sir,” Keru said, tapping the tactical panel in front of him.
“Hail the lead ship,” Riker said, leaning forward. The image of the ships shrank to occupy a small portion of the upper viewscreen as the main view switched to show the bridge of the Klingon vessel. Seated at its center was a corpulent, uniformed Klingon, eating messily from what appeared to be some kind of gourd.
“This is Captain William Riker of the U.S.S. Titan. With whom do I have the honor of speaking?”
The Klingon handed his gourd to a smaller Klingon nearby, wiped his sleeve across his mouth, belched loudly, and stood. “I am Khegh, son of Taahp, commander of the I.K.S. Vaj and her escort vessels. I emerged the victor in thirty-seven engagements during the war against the honorless Qatlh of the Dominion.” Then, as if to underscore his point, he belched heartily yet again.
Riker nodded slightly, standing as well, mirroring Khegh. “Then you are a great warrior indeed, General.”
Vale squinted, and noticed the Klingon’s rank insignia, barely visible underneath a pile of spilled gourd glop. Good eye, she thought, looking back toward Riker.
“Wars do not make one great,” Khegh said. “Victory makes one great!” He grinned, his crooked teeth looking as though they hadn’t been cleaned in weeks.
“I appreciate your standing down your weapons after you decloaked,” Riker said evenly. “I’m certain you only had them charged in the event we encountered some unforeseen danger.”
Vale sneaked a quick glance at Troi, and imagined the counselor was thinking the same thing she was. Smooth.
“Either that, or we just wanted to give you a good scare,” said Khegh, punctuating his utterance with a phlegmy belly laugh.
“We would like to extend an invitation to you, and the captains of the other two vessels, to join us for dinner,” Riker said with an ingratiating smile. “We can discuss the coming mission, and how best to serve the cause of the Remans and the Romulans, as well as our respective governments.”
Khegh squinted. “We’ll consider it and get back to you.” The screen went dark, and the corner image of the trio of Klingon ships immediately enlarged to fill it.
Riker turned, his smile quickly fading. “Well, he was certainly a charming customer.”
Troi put her palm up to her chin, brushing a finger over her lips. “There’s more to him than he’s showing, Captain. I suspect that his uncouth mannerisms were a ruse calculated to make him easy for us to underestimate.”
“Could you sense any hidden agendas regarding the Romulans?” Riker asked.
“Not yet,” Troi answered. “Perhaps something will reveal itself if we can have some closer contact with him.”
“Of course,