startrek76

Worf panned the view of the Enterprise's huge quasi-optical sensors a few
degrees and increased the magnification to center on one of the double saucer
ships. It too was under savage attack from the sleek dart like fighters of the
colonial military. Although neither of the arge ships seem to be equipped with
anything resembling the Enterprise's shield technology, they appeared to be
ruggedly built vessels to be able to absorb so much punishing hyper-laser fire
and still function.

Worf again manipulated the sensor controls to show a wider angle view which
encompassed the entire battle area, but which shrank both sides fighters to
invisibility and rendered the four capital ships mere toys on a black velvet
backdrop. Tiny blossoms of fire in the void marked the successful end of a
weapons run by one side or the other. Both of the double saucers had external
fires as did one of the other colonial vessels. The combat apparently would soon
be over.

The main screen returned to stellar display for a few seconds before being
overridden by static and snow.

"What the --?" Picard sat up straighter in his command chair.

"Some kind of primitive EMS jamming signal. Not well encrypted, but very
powerful, switching to active QLR sensors," Worf reported. "Another broadcast,
sir. I think its the opposition."

"Very well, on screen, Mr. Worf."

Again the screen image shimmered for a moment to be replaced by a view of a
sterile room with what appeared to be a single spot light illuminating a raised
throan-like chair. The chair swung around to reveal a silver armored individual
with a single red sensor moving from side to side. "Death to all humans!" the obviously mechanical voice snarled. "Death to all humans! By order of Imperious Leader, all humans must be exterminated. Death to all humans." An electronic one kilohertz drone squealed out of the communications receiver at an uncomfortable volume.

"Close out the channel, Mr. Worf," Ryker shouted in disgust and the screen
returned to stellar display.

Picard turned to Troi. "What are your feelings on this, Deanna? Can you read
anything at all?"

Troi had a distracted, bemused look on her face, as she always did when she was busy using her MenTalt abilities to divine a situation. "There are several
things I can tell you right off, Captain. Number one is that Commander ...
Adama? was it? is being totally truthful. He believes in the core of his being
that these Cylons will slaughter the civilians. Two, there are indeed thousands
of humans packed into those ships, and three, either the Cylons are of a type
mind I've never encountered, or they are robots, sophisticated perhaps, but
robots none the less."

"Do you mean they are 'electronic intelligence' as I am, Councilor?" asked Data.

"No, Data ... well, I don't know really," Troi said a bit flustered. "With you I
can read an 'essence' ... a mind, or a soul or something that makes you
sentient. I don't get that from these Cylons. My guess is they are closer
relatives to the Enterprise's computer than to you, Data."

"Our problem still remains," Picard said. "We've been asked for assistance. We have to decide if the Prime Directive will allow us to give it."

"Commodore Kevar making contact, sir," Worf said.

Picard waved at the main screen and Worf immediately transferred the incoming signal.

"Picard!" The Klingon Commodore that Picard had learned to respect over the past three days of mock combat was standing in an attitude of challenge, he was
wearing, Picard saw, not the work-a-day fatigue Imperial Armada uniform, but his
full dress uniform, complete with its spiked shoulder pad armor. "What are your
intentions?"

"Obviously we cannot allow this to continue..."

"Agreed!" Kevar nodded in total agreement.

"...Perhaps a temporary truce until we can sort out what is going on."

"BHA! Picard, you are a wise man, and a diplomat; BUT these are already engaged in the Khah-phakoon -- the "blood lust of battle" -- neither side will yield to diplomacy now. I do not mean to be offensive, Picard, but you are a diplomat --
skilled at the arts of Cha-darcht -- the speak-war. You should let your second,
Ryker, or Worf command in times of Khah-phakoon..."

"Unfortunately the Federation's Prime Directive ..."

"Has no relevance for me!" Kevar cut Picard off. "You sit by and observe; I will
demonstrate the way of the warrior -- yes?" Kevar cut the connection.

"Captain, the Wamach-charr has raised shields and is powering her main weapons, full power levels. The K-42 escorts are doing the same," Worf reported. "Captain Ben-durr of the Fafnir and Captain Farnsworth of the Canaberra are asking for instruction."

Picard, face red with surpressed anger, said through tightly pressed lips,
"Reestablish contact with Commodore Kevar."

"Sir! The Commodore is broadcasting an ultimatum to the aliens.." Worf said.

"WHAT?" Picard roared. "On screen, NOW!"

"... Commodore Kevar zantai-Lobaleth -- commander of His Imperial Majesty
Kahless's Bloody Claw frontier squadron. These stars are ours! You will at once
cease all hostilities! Take all weapons off line and prepare to be boarded by
soldiers of the Empire. If you refuse to stand down we WILL destroy you. We have you under our guns. You have sixty seconds to comply!"

"Damn!" Picard muttered, "Mr. Worf, raise shields; Mr. Ryker, bring the
Enterprise to battle stations. Helm, ahead impulse factor six, prepare for
evasive maneuvers. Signal our escorts that we are going to battlestations."

"Captain, Commodore Kevar for you," Worf announced into the general confussion.

The main screen flickered and the craggy visage of the Klingon flag officer
appeared.

"Ahh, Picard. Now we will see and end to this."

Picard tried hard to repress the anger he felt at being treated as a playing
piece in the Klingon's game of Komerex Zha. "Kevar..."

"Do not worry, Picard, my warriors will only attack if THEY are attacked."

"Yes, but you've practically guaranteed that will happen now."

"Ahhh, yes. So I have," Kevar purred.




"...sixty seconds to comply!"

Commander Adama stood on the raised quarter deck of his battlestar's Core
Command section and gapped at the screen. "Omega, are we certain of the
translation matrix?"

"Yes sir, and it was a wide-band FM broadcast, it was monitored on all the ships of the fleet. The Inter-Fleet comm channels are filling up fast with confused
questions as to what they should do...and Commander Cain is on the command
channel."

"I'd better talk to Cain first. What is our current status?"

"The solium fires in landing bay Beta are under control, but we've suffered
major damage to the main dorsal structural strut. It'll probably mean almost a
yarhen in close planet orbit to repair."

Adama groaned. "Anything else?"

"Since Beta bay will be off line for a centaur at least, Red Squadron will have
to land on the Pegasus..."

"Better let me talk to Cain now."

The vidacon screen flickered and the starfield was replaced with the larger than life electronic representation of Commander Cain.

"Adama! What were you thinking? Now the Aliens may well attack us..."

"I suppose that after five yarhens of flight along the course the Seraphs gave
us that we had finally encountered representatives of the Thirteenth Tribe from
Earth..."

Cain made a rude noise.

"I'm going to ask you for a big favor, my old friend, not as your commanding
officer, but as your friend. Do not target the alien vessels unless they
directly fire on you. The last thing we need is more enemies; and I still have
this feeling that we are close to our objective, closer than we've ever been
before."

Cain paused and looked directly into the vidacon pickup. "All right, Adama. You
HAVE been right many more times than wrong when it comes to this fascination of yours with the old tales of Earth and the Thirteenth Tribe. I only hope you are right THIS time!"

TO BE CONTINUED