The Relay

Posted on 23 Mar 2024 @ 4:16pm by Commander (La) Kuran & Lieutenant Aria Rice

1,705 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Episode 19 - Tomorrow's Galileo
Location: Pleiades Cluster, IKS Praxis
Timeline: MD 03, 0920 hrs

[ON]

Invisible to the naked eye in the southern depths of the Alpha Quadrant, the Klingon battlecruiser IKS Praxis traveled through the empty cosmos at high warp while cloaked, its distinctive green and gray hull optically masked to prevent detection by an unknown - or known - future affiliates. 48 full hours had now passed during which the warship had targ-lined toward the nearest known Klingon outpost in the search for more information about this new reality the crew of warriors now found themselves in.

What could be achieved by such an adventure? What revelations could the Praxis crew uncover which would alter their perception of history or perhaps influence it in the future? Why was one single Starfleet officer the only of her kind to openly defect in search of this future political landscape's secrets? The questions and risk were many, yet it compelled them all with a temporary sense of unity.

In the Captain's Chair, Aria Rice kept an eye on what was going on around her. She wore the uniform well after these last few days, settled into it like a second skin. If someone had noticed the minor modifications she had done on it, they didn't comment. It was for her comfort and freedom of movement, the leather still tight but now with the panels to allow her better movement should she fight. Her straight hair hung free, like two curtains framing her face and the dark makeup around her eyes made her pale blue eyes stand out more. Kuran was in his chambers, so she had the bridge. As was her place.

She had put the Galileo out of her mind for now. It had to be done, a survival instinct that made her put certain emotions on the shelf labelled 'to revisit at a more suitable time'. One could argue that the suitable time was a forever moving point in time, or in temporal flux. It would most likely give her an ulcer one day. But not today.

The last 48 hours had been tense, yet with a sense of adventure for the crew. This new reality, the unknown, had tugged at the dramatic side of the Klingons. Rousing speeches and songs during meals, theories thrown out. Aria had kept herself observing, joining in the songs and worked hard on her language skills. Many of the crew spoke Standard, which was a help, but more and more in causal conversations did she demand it was in Klingon, and if her pronunciation was incorrect, that they corrected her. It may have made a few respect her less, but the memory of the fight to the death was fresh enough in people's minds for them not to challenge her.

They were approaching the coordinates they had been chasing. She could see that easily enough, not just in what the computer told her, but in the drawn shoulders of the Klingon at the helm. They had avoided contact with other ships for now, coasting through on luck and skill. But this could be where it all changed. "How long?" she asked, knowing the question in her voice demanded an answer.

The helmsman with glorious long, flowing hair tapped at his console then rotated his seat 180 degrees to face the Human first officer. "Ten days until we are within estimated range of Klingon subspace relays," he gruffly reported in his native tongue. "We have not yet detct-" A deep and repeating alert sounded from his console, and he swung back around to interpret the readings. Several seconds passed before he spoke again, "Navigational beacon detected. Bearing...289 mark 4. Range approximately...one-quarter light year!"

Aria nodded, understanding the words. Numbers were more difficult but she was learning them. "Take us there," she said, in Klingon, knowing hers was heavily accented. Fine. At least she thought it was understandable. She would call for the Captain once they were there, no reason to disturb him just yet.

At the conn, the helmsman meticulously entered the new coordinates relayed from the battlecruiser's long-range sensors into the navigational course plot, then engaged the new heading. The large main viewscreen's warp star field streaks suddenly shifted to port until they steadied along the new trajectory. "New course established, we will arrive in approximately three hours," he reported to the Human first officer.

"Good," she gave a nod and sat back. Three hours. Good, she would give Kuran another hour, then report to him. It would give him time to consider, plus extra time in case he wasn't approving of this course of action. She shifted in her seat, a subtle move to cross her legs.


One Hour Later...

"Captain Kuran, we have changed course to intercept a navigational relay," Aria sent the message, having taken the time in the last hour to practice some more words and phrases with the bridge crew. There had even been light banter. Light. Feather-light. "We arrive in two hours."

A short and deep chirp relayed back across the inter-ship comm channel, and the tall Klingon captain replied, "Good...prepare our operations and engineering teams to extract what we will need." Then the communique abruptly closed without any further elaboration from the captain.

Aria looked around for a moment before she started doing what she had been told. She informed the teams and spent the rest of the time briefing them and, in a way, building relationships. It was one of those things that happened, even with Klingons.

With ten minutes to spare, she heard Kuran's familiar footfall on the bridge and she got out of the Captain's seat before he approached, respectfully stepping to the side.

"What have you discovered? Visual!" Kuran forcefully demanded as he walked through the bridge and to his rightful place within the command chair at the center of the room. After almost two days of waiting, the answers were finally within his grasp. A full explanation of the Klingon Empire's involvement in this war, along with all of its intelligence and Great House affiliations. Or so he hoped.

There was a flicker, as if the shield or projection of space took a moment to get itself going again. There were stars, the beautiful stretch of the universe. A subspace relay drifted into view as the Praxis turned a little. Despite the Klingon broadcast codes, it was clear to anyone looking that it was Romulan in design. The sharp lines, utilitarian and elegant, with a razor sharp edge, seemed to make it even clearer. The colours too were Romulan, clearly marking it.

"Well, that's shiny," Aria breathed, to herself. A certain level of sarcasm with the way she usually spoke in Standard, the bright shiny expression she used.

Ever so slowly, Kuran's eyes widened the longer he stared at the relay beacon. He walked down from the center of the bridge's raised command platform to stand directly in front of the large main viewscreen. "Enhance..."

Upon his audible demand, one of the operations officer zoomed the image in, sharpened the visual resolution, then locked a point track on the strange-looking device. Kuran's jaw set and his teeth hardened, bulging the flesh along his temples while he observed what was almost undeniably a foreign object. "That subspace relay does NOT appear to be of Klingon design origin!"

"No, Captain," Aria said as she looked at him for a moment then back at the screen. "It appears Romulan of design and is broadcasting Klingon broadcast codes. We can attempt accessing it, I do recommend not doing it directly into any ship's system. If you have anything that we can use to access it that is not tied into..." she gestured. "The Praxis, in case there's subroutine codes that disrupts the normal operation of a Klingon ship." Ha, take that those who said Aria never paid attention when Operations were muttering at their console.

He stroked the lengthy edges of his fu manchu mustache slowly. Pondering. Strategizing. Evaluating this new unforeseen development. Then he raised his chin as if a most appropriate course of action had just manifest to him. Kuran turned then walked back up to the center of the bridge next to Rice. "A worthy precaution," he verbally agreed. "If this subspace relay is like those of our time...then it will be operated by a small maintenance crew. One, two - perhaps three at most." He let out a throaty, bass-filled hum while he formulated their new plan of action.

"We will bring Praxis to within transporter range under cloak then transport a strike team to capture its occupants." The captain locked eyes with the Federation security chief. "You will lead this team. Take three of our best warriors and an engineer. Once you have captured the ones who operate the relay, transport them back here for interrogation; whoever they might be, regardless of the empire they serve. Then, your team will be free to access any logs and systems required without interference."

Aria nodded as she straightened at the order. "Yes Captain," she said, giving a small nod. She could figure out who to take. Best warriors, yes, but also warriors she knew wouldn't lose their heads in a fight...she wanted the occupants alive after all. Not killed because someone felt the need to bloody themselves.

Kuran glanced at the nearby chronometer displayed in Klingon on one of the nearby consoles. His crew now had approximately 100 minutes until their arrival at the station's location, meaning time to prepare was becoming short. "Go now and prepare your team. This may be our only chance to reveal the secrets of this time and return back to your vessel...if it has not already been destroyed."

Aria nodded as she looked at him, her eyes calm as she turned and walked away, already giving orders of who to meet her to go to the relay.

To Be Continued...

[OFF]

--

Commander Kuran
Commanding Officer
IKS Praxis
[PNPC Tarin]

Lieutenant Aria Rice
First Officer
IKS Praxis

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