Chapter 4: First Blood is Drawn (part 4)

Chapter 4: First Blood is Drawn (part 4)

Ten minutes of hard, steady labor later, they regrouped and activated the systems one by one. First, shields, then engines, then weapons. Everyone held their breath but when nothing exploded immediately, they knew they had done it.

Hartzer grinned.

“Go team,” she murmured. “Readins, Mistuh Mitchell? Mistuh Phelix?”

“Nominal, Commander,” said Phelix cheerfully. “Everything is green.”

“Borderline,” added Mitchell, “but green, yeah. I wouldn’t recommend pushing her real hard though,” he said, with the worried tone all engineers had. “We had to jury rig those EPS coils, remember, and a few other things.”

B’akkara swept his objections aside.

“We have power and weapons. It is enough,” she declared, with the ‘We are Klingons after all and can kill a rabid targ with a blunt spoon’ if desired.

Frazetti nodded diplomatically and kept her opinions to herself.

“If you’ll ‘scuze us, B’akkara, I know your warriors are more’n capable of handlin’ things down here,” she said gracefully as she could think of. “We’re gonna go see if anythin’ needs doin’up on da bridge with Mistuh Archer.”

“Go,” B’akkara nodded. “We will see if any more power can be diverted to the disruptors.”

The trip to the bridge was harrowing. The valiant ship was beaten and battered, but undaunted. Nevertheless, entire hallways were dark, lit only by the sparks of disconnected wires, and they had to put out a few plasma fires on their way up. They stopped to make minor, fast repairs three times; twice they stumbled over fallen Klingon warriors. Each time Frazetti called B’akkara to let her know. She didn’t know Klingons or their rituals and was loathe to mess with them for fear of doing something unforgivably wrong.

The air was thick with scorched metals, sweaty Klingon, and an acrid ozone tang. She wanted to cough but held it back. She looked about like the ship smelled, she knew.

The bridge was bright compared to the dimness of the halls, and she blinked a bit before stepping out into sight.

“Heya, Mistuh Archer. Nice job on da comms. We got weapons online, an’ warp two, an’ shields at fifty five percent. Dey could be more, but da Klingons wanted more power t’ da disruptors,” she said, filling him in.

Brian nodded at Hartzer's update

"I understand that." he said as he glanced over at Duron who joined the two Starfleet Officers.

"Klingon High Command has made me acting captain and instructed me to get underway as soon as possible. My engineer tells me that he is ready to get underway now, but I would like our cloaking device functional if it is not already."

Brian nodded to the Klingon and looked at Hartzer

"Did you work on the cloak while you were down in engineering?"

Frazetti shook her head sadly.

"Shot t' hell an' back. Thought 'bout fixin' it but it'd take too long, coupla days at least Mitchell told me, and B'akkara said ya rather da power go t' the weapons an' shields instead, since we could fix dem much quicker," she told Archer and Duron, nodding to the Klingon respectfully. She and her team looked the worse for their labors but the ship could fly and fight and that was what really mattered.

Archer nodded at the Icarus' XO and looked to the now Captain Duron. The large bearded Klingon officer grimaced, and uttered a low growl as he contemplated the boisterous Starfleet officer's report on the cloaking device. Finally, he fixed his eyes on Archer and Hartzer.

"Fine. We will get underway without it. Now, if the two of you will get your people off my ship, I would like to get my men home."

Archer allowed his mouth to curl into a small grin as turned to Hartzer.

"I think that's our cue to leave Commander."

She grinned at Archer.

"I think you're right, Mistuh Archer. Cap'n Duron, been a pleasure." The blonde turned and tapped her badge. "Hartzer t' all Starfleet personell on da Klingon ship, we're blowin' dis joint. Finish what you're doin' and head t' the airlocks, please."

Most of the teams were already assembled but she didn't want to accidentally leave someone behind.

Then she tipped her hat to Duron and beckoned for Phelix and Mitchell. She paused when she realized that she had more people now than she came with. Someone would have to be beamed back up.

"Hartzer t' Transporter Room 3."

"This is Ensign Carrick, ma'am. What can we do for you?"

"Can ya beam up da reinforcements from da bridge? Ain't got room for dem on da shuttle," she added.

"A lesser person than my illustrious self would be offended, Commander," Phelix piped up. His own eyes twinkled at the teasing. She snorted inelegantly.

"Sorry, only cool cats on dis bus," she shot back effortlessly.

"Aww...."

"Um, give me a moment Commander...." said the Ensign. "The link is kinda shaky, but I think I can get them from here."

"Aces."

Phelix and his ops personnel were already arrayed in the standard beam-up formation, so she said, "You're good t' go."

"Energizing."

Whisked from further down into the bowels of the ship, Doctor Cyl glanced around the transporter room and blurred out: "I hate command officer..." the moment before he had been working on heavily burned Klingon engineer and now was looking at an Icarus transporter technician.

After a moment of indignation, he headed out the door and tapped his comm.

"Miss Precourt, please have any remaining Klingons on board to their ship, if they can live at a few days without medical care."

"Of course, Sir."

"Also as their sickbay was destroyed, please transport over a standard set of medical supplies."

"Already have." She said with a smile.

"Good, good; I will be in my quarters should anything arise."

A swirl of light and golden motes took also Frazetti Hartzer's people, fizzled suddenly, regained strength and then they were gone. Hartzer appreciated the Federation's technology. Some of it never ceased to amaze her.

"Righty den, let's get ourselves back t' da shuttles. See ya on da Icarus, Mistuh Archer."

Archer nodded at the commander "Aye Sir, back to the ship it is."

He turned then to Duron

"Qapla, Captain! Fight well."

"Qapla, Archer! Perhaps someday you will tell me how you knew where that maintenance access was. It is hidden for a reason."

Archer smiled.

"If our paths cross again, you have a deal."

Duron glared.

"I will hold you to that...now get off my bridge."

Archer turned to the remainder of the Starfleet personnel on the bridge

"Let's go folks."

Brian made his way back to the airlocks using the now working turbolifts with the rest of his team. As they rode back toward the Icarus Brian hoped that what they had done was enough to get the Klingons back to Klingon space safely. The Romulan Warbird that had attacked them could very well have retreated but they could also be cloaked and lurking nearby. He hoped the Captain was taking appropriate precautions.

The short jaunt back to the Icarus was uneventful, unlike the rest of their expedition had been thus far. Still, it was good to see her proud lines and bold colors in the window of the shuttle and her gleaming interior after time in the smoky darkness of the Klingon ship.

She made straight for the bridge, stopping only when she saw her reflection in a wall console and winced.

VERY unStarfleet....

Frazetti checked her chronometer and decided she had a moment to spare, so she ducked into a humanoid female bathroom and quickly scrubbed first her face, then her arms up to the eldbows. Nothing could be done about the odor of burning circuits that still clung to her, or the general disheveledness of her uniform, but it felt good to get at least some of the grime off.

Commanders had appearances to keep up, after all.

The small burns she had stung a bit under the cold water and then felt immeasurably better. She would get Cyl to look at them when they had a spare moment but, as they were not life threatening, she promptly put them out of her mind. Shaking her head to loosen her curls, she exited the bathroom the way she had come and hoofed it to the turbo.

When she entered the bridge, it was with her usual panache.

"Heya, Boss," she greeted, taking her seat next to the Romulan helmsman. "Sorry for da delay, but we're all back on board now, suh, an' da Klingons got their ship back, more or less. It can fly an' fight, so dat's what counts."

As the Captain looked over to his First Officer now sitting in her Ops seat, she looked like she had been wrestling with an electric eel in a bristly mud hole… or worse. Fortunately though, she seemed intact and in relatively good spirits.

“Thank you for the update Number One… and good work over there. I believe that you have earned some time to go to your quarters, take a shower and put on a new uniform. Not only will you feel better, but then our bridge won’t smell like a cross between a burnt piece of toast and a short-circuited console.” the Captain cajoled with a subtle wink.

"Wasn't all me suh, Mistuh Archer deserves his share of praise. It was him dat handled Cap'n Duron," she replied honestly.

Then, at his second sentence, she grinned, a bit sheepish.

"Was hopin' ya'd say dat, but I wasn't sure if I had da time or if I oughta when I was on duty. Thanks, Boss. Be back in a jiff," she said, rising again from her seat.

Since her room wasn't far from the bridge, it did not take her very long at all to arrive, strip, toss her uniform into the recycler and take a shower- a real one. She preferred showers with water, even if they weren't as effective. They just felt better, and it was one of her few indulgences. Though when she was done she did turn on the sonics to dry herself off and get whatever remained. She took a new uniform out of her closet and put it on. Her hat, which had somehow escaped the worst of the Klingon ship, was sonic'ed briefly before she put it on again.

Then she went to the stand by her bed, and took out a small, portable dermal regenerator and ran it over the places on her hands.

She surveyed herself in the mirror. Not bad. Not bad at all, she thought. Much better'n before.

Thus satisfied, she exited her room and entered the turbo to return to the bridge.

While this was going on, Captain Sterling turned to the Counselor and inquired:

“Mister Pasqual, have all the sheep returned home?”

''Aye, Sir. The last shuttle has just been confirmed docked by hangar bay flight control. All away team members back and accounted for.''

His amber eyes glazed for a moment as he listened to another incoming communication. Then, he grinned.

''And the Klingons say: good hunting, Icarus. Make their own blood wash away their treachery.''

* * *

Fourteen months earlier

Ferenginaar Orbital repair facility.

"Your ship is ready, Admiral."

Admiral D'anat turned away from the view port and the strikingly ominous looking ship tethered below the window. Its size was impressive, and the three years it took to repair and refurbish the warship had been impatiently awaited by both himself and the Empress. Not to mention extremely costly in the Ferengi currency of gold-pressed latinum.

"Thank you, Grang; we will board now and take her out. I trust your payment was received?"

The small Ferengi smiled a toothy grin, nodding an affirmative.

"Enjoy your new toy, Admiral. I hope the accommodations are tolerable for your crew."

Nodding a reply, the Romulan Admiral turned away and left the small man to gloat over his expanded treasury. Minutes later he boarded the newest acquisition of the Imperial Romulan Navy, made his way to the bridge and ordered its new captain, Commander Sa'arvik, to get under way.