OBT Forum

I don't think the Kraal are the problem here. Somebody else is committing hostile acts against the Lorsham.

Chapter Nine (cont.)

“On screen.”

Matt stood and took two steps forwards as the main viewer blanked and then revealed an image of the interior of the Kraal ship.  The lighting was low, but he could clearly see the other captain:  a grey-skinned humanoid who lacked any visible hair and an elongated face and jaw, sloping to a high bony crest sweeping back over his brow, several shades darker than his flesh.

“I am Captain Matthew Dahlgren, of the Federation starship Republic.”

“You have violated the territorial integrity of the Kraal Hegemony, Federation!  Withdraw at once or we shall use lethal force to make you regret this incursion!”

Matt frowned at the screen.  “You have already attempted to use lethal force against my vessel, Captain.  It failed.  And you have witnessed precisely the level of lethal force that I can use in kind, should you press me too hard.”

The alien on the screen blinked, and the flaps of skin that covered his nasal passages opened and closed several times.

“Why are you here, Federation?” he finally asked.  “We have told you, time and again, we desire no contact with you or any other outsider!”

“I have questions, questions which the Kraal might be able to assist me in answering.”

“Questions?  You cross our marked borders, you fire upon my vessel, for questions?”

“I think you can recall that it was you who first fired into me.  And my torpedoes never touched your ship, did they?  Of course, if you had simply responded to our hails, we would never have crossed your border.”

“If your questions are answered, you will depart?”

“I shall.”

The Kraal raised his head, breathing deeply, and then he lowered his head, the color of his crest lightening.

“Ask.”

“My ship was dispatched to Cauldron after the Lorsham asked the Federation for assistance—they claim that you have attacked their colonies.”

The Kraal’s crest lightened still further and the nasal flaps snapped shut; he leaned forward, with his eyes growing wide.

“You are allied with the Lorsham, then?” he whispered.

“No.  This ship is here to mediate the crisis and avert any further casualties—on either side.  We have heard Vorshun’s truncated version of the events that lead to the attacks on his worlds, and we would hear what the Kraal have to say in answer.”

The alien began to breathe again, and his crest slowly regained some of its color.  “Do you know Ordan, Federation?”

Matt paused, carefully choosing his words.  “I am aware that the Lorsham considers Ordan an angelic being; I do not know Ordan.”

“Tell me, Federation; you appear to be injured.  Is that a recent injury—one since you visited Hak’ta-thor?

“It is an old wound.  From before I arrived at the Cauldron.”

“You have not received medical assistance from the Lorsham, then?”

“I have not, nor has any member of my crew.”

The Kraal sat back and he looked off screen, he appeared to be considering his next words, and then he lowered his head, the counter-balanced crest rising in unison.

“We attacked the Lorsham colonies, Federation; we attacked in retaliation for Lorsham interference with the Kraal people.”

“Why?”

“For many decades, the Lorsham and the Kraal have bickered amongst ourselves.  They are deluded, putting their faith in myth and legend.  We have had . . . skirmishes in the past.  But always have we settled our differences in a fashion that both our peoples could agree was just.  Until now.”

The crest began to darken again.  “Recently, our scientists have discovered an ancient device, left behind on one of our worlds by space-farers from long ago.  The Lorsham are convinced it is a relic of Ordan—and they demanded it from us.  We refused.  It is ours to study and learn from, dug from the soil of our worlds, not the Lorsham’s.  They grew angry with us, and then they struck.”

“Forgive me, Captain, but I have seen the Lorsham ships—and your own.  I cannot believe that the Lorsham posed such a threat militarily that you would have to respond as aggressively as you did.”

“Their ships are mere toys, Federation!  But their knowledge of bio-chemistry is unsurpassed.  They subverted a portion of the Kraal, through their missionaries devoted to spreading the word of Ordan—they enslaved them to their will, making them betray every being they owed their allegiance to, forsaking their loyalty to the Kraal, to their families, to their oaths, for blind faith in Ordan.  The Lorsham do not dirty their hands, Federation; they have their thralls do so for them.  Thousands upon thousands of Kraal died, as those converted to the worship of Ordan fought brother and wife, father and daughter.”

“Did they retrieve the relic?”

“No.  And we destroyed their colonies as a warning.  And now they seek to use you, Federation.  To take what is not theirs.”

“The Federation does not lightly side with any race that asks, Captain.  We seek the truth, and we would see justice done.”

“Ahhhhh,” the Kraal hummed, the crest quickly blending back into the creature’s skin color.  “If it is justice and truth you seek, Federation, then know that the Kraal have spoken true here today.  We will defend ourselves, and our actions against the Lorsham were that—self-defense of our own wills.”

“How did the Lorsham turn your people into these . . . thralls?” Matt asked.

“The Lorsham might trail behind the Kraal in propulsion and weapons, but they are masters at molecular chemistry and genetics.  Their biological scientists—their doctors—have gleaned much knowledge of this ancient being they call Ordan.  From scattered and broken pieces of its technology.  They tailor their medicines for each individual, crafting them so that they rewrite the genetic code to repair damage suffered.  We were not aware that they could rewrite one’s personality and beliefs through these drugs as well.  And we suffered for accepting their aid.”

“How did you manage to overcome this conditioning?”

The Kraal looked down, his crest blanching, and Matt could hear a low moan, a keening croon, from off the screen of the Kraal ship.  The alien Captain’s nasal flaps flared and he breathed heavily.

“It cannot be removed, Federation.  Those infected by Ordan are now dead.”

“Might I request a copy of your records of these events; so that my people can study them and stop this war from escalating further?”

The Kraal turned off screen and barked a command.  “Our files will transmitted now, Federation.  What are your intentions?”

Matt looked down at the deck, and then he turned to Chan.  “We are receiving their records, Captain Dahlgren.”

“To go in peace, and leave your territory.”

“And the Lorsham?  What will your Federation about them?”

Matt frowned.  “That is a matter for the Federation Council to decide.”

The Kraal rocked his head back and forth.  “Then go in peace, Federation.  And beware the manipulations of the Lorsham.”

The screen blanked.

“Miss Montoya, plot a course back to Hak’ta-thor, Warp 9,” he said as he limped back to his chair.  “Miss Tsien, I want Science and Medical to thoroughly study the medical records.  Go over every bit of data the Kraal have transmitted and see if you can find out what exactly the Lorsham have managed to do.”

“Aye, aye, Sir,” a chorus of voices answered.  Chan walked over next to Matt, and shook his head.  “If they have used this on the Klingons, Captain Dahlgren . . .” his voice trailed off.

“Yes,” Matt answered quietly.  “The Lorsham may be planning to send Captain Krull after this artifact—and if that happens . . .”

Both officers grew silent as Republic came about and surged into warp.”

Sneaky, be interesting to find out how they managed to do that to the Klingon Captain though.

Somebody is toying around with something very very dangerous.

and here we go.

Wow, didn't think about that. Yikes bad news for the Federation.

Chapter Ten

The turbolift doors whistled open and Matt limped out onto the bridge.  Chan immediately stood.  “We have assumed standard orbit, and Premier Vorshun has already hailed us, demanding to speak with you.”

“Well, let’s not keep the Premier waiting, shall we?  I have the conn,” he said as he sat, rubbing his sore leg.

“Captain has the conn,” the XO answered as he assumed his standing station behind and to the left of the Captain’s chair.

“Status of the Klingons?”

“Their battlecruiser remains docked at the Lorsham shipyards, Captain Dahlgren.  She does not appear to be prepared for battle.”

“On screen, Miss Biddle.”

The red-furred Lorsham head of state appeared on the main viewer, and his lips parted in a snarl.  “I have already formally protested your ship’s intrusion into Lorsham space without the permission of this government, and without a Lorsham observer on board, Captain Dahlgren.  Such sudden and precipitous actions have resulted in far worse than a mere reprimand, if I may remind you.”

“My apologies, your Excellency.  I was given the impression at our meeting that you desired for Star Fleet to see the devastation of your colonies for ourselves.  It was quite distressing, I assure you.”

“Yes, so your Ambassador has stated.  Your ship has been to Gelast II and Shirdon IV, then?”

“We have, and we have also documented evidence of the attacks on your colonies to be included in our recommendations to the Federation Council.”

“And that recommendation will be?”

“Your Excellency, I would prefer to discuss the matter first with Ambassador Sepak, before I give you my own views on the situation.  I am, after all, only a Star Fleet officer and not the accredited representative of the United Federation of Planets.”

“I see, Captain Dahlgren.  Unfortunately, your Ambassador has taken ill.”

Matt raised one eyebrow.  “Really?  That is unfortunate.  Have you physicians not been able to treat him?”

“They say he is in perfect health, but he does not respond; to me, to his aides, to any attempt to elicit a conscious answer.   We are baffled by this,” the Premier answered warily.

“I’d like to beam him and his party back aboard ship, with your permission, your Excellency.  Our ship’s surgeon is quite familiar with Vulcan physiology and might be able to treat the Ambassador.”

The Lorsham paused for several moments, and then he slowly nodded.  “Yes.  It would be best if the Ambassador was restored to full function.  Regardless, I would like to meet with you and your staff; tomorrow, perhaps?  After you have been able to see that your Ambassador has received proper care.”

“I would be delighted, your Excellency.  Until tomorrow then,” Matt finished as the transmission suddenly cut off and then his forced smile faded.

“Sickbay, bridge.”

“Sickbay here.”

“Doctor, something has happened to Sepak on the surface; he will beamed directly to the Quarantine Bay.  I’ll be there in a few moments.”

“We’ll be ready to receive him.”

“Transporter Room One, bridge.”

“Transporter Room One.”

“Prepare to beam Ambassador Sepak and his party aboard; I want them held in transporter stasis until a full scan has been completed.  Any foreign objects or substances not in the possession of the away team at the time they beamed down to the surface are to be held in transporter confinement.  Once you have removed those objects, Chief Sandler, beam the Ambassador directly to the Medical’s Quarantine Bay and his aides to the brig, directly into the secure cells.  Understood?”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“Security, bridge.”

“Security.”

“Prepare to receive the Ambassador’s aides in the brig, Lieutenant Beck.  Isolate them; they are not to have physical contact with any member of this ship’s crew.”

“Aye, aye, Sir.”

Matt stood.  “Mister Chan.  You have the conn.  Rotate the crew on the four-hour shifts and keep every station manned.”

“Aye, aye, Sir,” the XO answered.

Matt limped over to the turbolift and entered it.  “Deck Three,” he said quietly.