Post by Atton_Jetrel on Jul 8, 2020 2:35:18 GMT
"Big Game Hunters"
General Vort sat in the command chair of the Vor'cha class ship Bek'tar, observing the battle unfold through his ship’s viewscreen. The Klingon's silvery-white hair and aged features stood in stark contrast to those of the young, strapping men and women that manned the various consoles around the Bridge. The others had already been overcome by the battle, barking orders and responses at each other while toothily grinning whenever they took a moment to watch their fellow brothers in the birds of prey's assault on the two Federation ships. Vort however, was stoic. His fingers interlaced and steepled over his mouth, he leaned forward, the data readouts on the viewscreen coming slightly more into focus.
Nearsightedness wasn't tolerated in the KDF, nor really were any of the afflictions that came with age. General Vort was a special man, however. Already well over a century in age, Vort was considered an old man by any regards in Klingon society despite being roughly middle-aged by a natural Klingon life expectancy. He had spent nearly nine decades fighting the Federation, Romulans, Tholians, Gorn and every other Beta Quadrant power. His name echoed in the halls of legends among those like Kor, Kang and Koloth.
It was with this legendary clout, and a list of commendations that ran taller than he stood, that this day had even come to fruition. Who else could make a warrior’s call that so many would answer? Who else could restore the Empire to glory? K'mpec, a bloated drunk unfit to lead. The High Council, a bunch of dithering politicians who wouldn't recognize honor and glory if it stabbed them through the heart, save one: Duras, son of Ja'rod, future of the Empire. While the rest of the Council had allowed the Empire to become... complacent and stagnant, Duras was an injection of new blood and old ideas. The warrior’s way, the Klingon way. That was as it should be. For nearly a millennium the Klingon Empire had had grown under conquest, honor and glory. But these... humans… they would undo it all. First Khitomer, then Narendra III. The Federation's weakness and compassion had seeped into the Klingon heart. That was why, when Duras had approached him with this glorious task, he had eagerly agreed. His personal honor was a small thing when set next to the future of the Empire.
A flash of red broke his thoughts. A stray torpedo from the Aquarius, fired at one of the birds of prey, flew by the Bek'tar at less than five thousand Kellicams. "Report! Has the Federation detected us!?"
"I do not believe so, Sir," Vort's first officer replied. "We remain outside their detection radius."
"Good..." He grinned toothily. "Good."
The traitor aboard the Aquarius had yet to disappoint. First the position and movements of the Federation task force, and then the revelation that Governor Bor'tesh had aided the Federation in cracking their cloaking frequencies. Bor'tesh...that petaQ embodied everything wrong with the Klingon Empire. That he'd betray his brothers and sisters to gain favor with the Federation did not surprise him. Normally, Vort would have found such betrayal of a superior to be the worst dishonor. But this "traitor" held the true heart of a Klingon. He did not know who in Bor'tesh's guard the source was, but he must have ingratiated himself well among the crew to have such access.
"Sir!" Another flash of light, this time much brighter, distracted Vort again. The IKS Achtar exploded in spectacular fashion on the view screen. Beneath his steepled fingers, the general flashed the smallest of smirks. This ship... Aquarius, was a worthy foe. Even without targeting sensors, her weapons officer had managed still managed to hit the Achtar with a volley of torpedoes that destroyed it. Still, the feint had worked. The smaller Miranda-class was being overwhelmed by the other birds of prey, its hull wracked with secondary explosions as power flickered on and off onboard the ship. Prompting cheering across the bridge.
"General! The Billings has been disabled and is falling into the planet’s gravity well!"
"Now the true challenge. Order the others to converge on Aquarius, attack formation Dhak'tah! Ghos!"
As the Billings’ broken hull drifted into the gravity well of Gault, the hunters moved in on their other prey. The birds of prey assumed wing formations, assaulting the Aquarius in charging attacks. While it left them more exposed to counter fire from the Ambassador-class ship, it also allowed for more concentrated fire, allowing the Klingons to quickly drain segments of the mighty ship’s shields. Despite two more birds of prey being disabled in this strafing runs, the Klingons were winning the war of attrition. A volley of torpedoes struck Aquarius' shields, causing some sort of energy overload that caused a secondary explosion inside the ship, a section of the port side saucer section’s hull seemed to buckle and collapse in on itself. General Vort couldn't help but grow his smile as he swelled with pride. This is how it should be. The exhilaration of combat! His heart pounding in his chest! How many years had it been since he'd felt this sensation? How many young bekks were experiencing it for the first time?
The battle was all but over by the time the Excelsior USS T'Prath arrived on scene, ignoring proper protocol and dropping out of warp deep inside the system, only a few million kellicam from the battle. Overheated drive plasma vented from her nacelles, a testament to how hard and long the ship’s engines had been pushed. The Vulcan-crewed ship charged into orbit at full impulse, forcing the remaining four birds of prey to split their focus between the two ships. Instantly the tide of the battle shifted. Two birds of prey might have been enough to finish off the damaged Aquarius, but it left the other two to contend with a very healthy and capable Excelsior-class.
Vort's chair spun to face his communications officer. "Hail the Katar and Vek! Order them to engage the Excelsior!"
The lieutenant punched commands into his console, waiting for a long moment before returning his eyes to the General. "No response, Sir!"
"PAH!" Vort slammed his fist angrily into the armrest, spinning back to face the viewscreen. Each and every one of the captains in this assault were men who had served under him, some for years. He held their implicit loyalty and trust. Doran and Kell. Brothers. Captains of the IKS Achtar and Vek respectively. Kell's blood lust and need for vengeance now threatened to spell doom for them all.
"General! Should we not decloak and aid our forces!?"
"No!" Vort barked back to his first officer. "Ours is the final knife in the heart of this Federation force! When we enter the field of battle, I want Captain Quintus to know she never had a chance!"
The Katar was the first victim of Kell's foolishness. A torpedo strike directly midship provoked secondary explosions that found their way to the reactor core, utterly destroying the ship. A second volley was fired, adjusting course and colliding with the Vek. Both brothers now reunited in Sto-vo-kor. In a few short minutes guaranteed victory had transformed into the doubt of defeat. He had no choice now but to act.
"Helm! Bring us to bear with Aquarius! Order our forces to break away! Get the T'Prath to chase them! Load torpedoes and arm disruptors! Prepare to decloak!"
The crew cheered affirmatives. Finally a chance to wet their blades. The remaining two birds of prey broke away, the Excelsior class giving chase. By time the Bek'tar had aligned itself with Aquarius, the final two ships had pulled the T'Prath entirely out of weapons range, forcing her to chase them at full impulse. It was obvious the ship was less concerned with achieving victory than protecting the wounded Aquarius. Foolish Federation sentiment, Vort inner monologued. In protecting the ship from the hounds, the T'Prath had left them exposed to the hunter yet to reveal himself.
The Bek'tar decloaked ahead of the Aquarius, opening fire with no hesitation. The Federation ship returned in kind, several phaser strikes and torpedoes colliding with the shields, draining some protection, but causing minimal damage otherwise. It only took a few moments for the overpowered disruptor cannons to overwhelm the shields, followed by a volley of torpedoes. Some went wide, but the two that connected caused a massive explosion on the underside of the saucer section; another squarely collided with the front of the port nacelle, destroying it. Like the Billings before it, Aquarius drifted, its lights flickering. The Vor'cha class moved past its disabled adversary, moving towards the T'Prath. It didn't take long for them to catch the outmatched starship, hammering the after shields with disruptor bolts.
For every evasive maneuver pattern the Excelsior-class had, the Bek'tar could not be shaken. In a few minutes the aft shields had failed and a volley of torpedoes that connected directly with the dorsal side of the secondary hull quickly led to a reactor breach that cracked the ship in two. The burning wreckage was focused on the viewscreen as the ship came about.
"Qapla!" Vort roared out, the bridge crew responding in kind. "Cloak and bring us about! Heading... twenty mark two-eighty. I want our remaining forces planetside assaulting the colony within the hour. Ghos!"
The Bek'tar shimmered into invisibility, making its way back to the Aquarius while the remaining two Birds of Prey moved towards Gault, raising their wings as they began to glow red with the heat of atmospheric entry. Within minutes, General Vort was again staring down the badly damaged ship. Issuing orders to prepare to fire, Vort signaled his communications officer to hail the Aquarius, audio only. He stood from his perched seat as the connection was established.
"Captain. Your ship is disabled. Your allies, cast aside. You have put up a worthy fight, but now is the time to surrender. I claim this system in the name of the Klingon Empire, surrender now, and I will ensure the civilians on the planet below are handled...honorably."
Toothy grins grew around the bridge. There was a long pause before Captain Quintus' voice echoed through the Klingon bridge in response.
"General. Please understand when I say that the only way that we will be surrendering this colony is when every last Starfleet vessel is scattered bits of duranium."
There was a roar of laughter around the bridge, and in the moment even Vort couldn't help but grin. "I was honestly hoping you'd say that. Perhaps I'll bring your broken hull home to rekindle the warrior heart of my people."
He cut the comms himself, ordering his weapons officer to open fire with a flick of the finger as he returned to his seat. The Bek'tar decloaked, and it wasn't until Vort had actually sat down and returned his attention to the viewscreen did he see the volley of torpedoes sailing in. For a fraction of a second, fear gripping his warrior heart as the first flew by less than twenty kellicams from the bridge. The second struck the front of the ship, causing a large secondary explosion that shook the ship before the ship was fully decloaked, the remaining torpedoes slamming into the shields. It was a minor miracle the Aquarius had managed to raise any amount of shields, but it only took a few disruptor bolts to bring them down again. The Federation had managed to draw metaphorical blood however, and the overzealous weapons officer launched a torpedo straight into the ship’s deflector dish. A devastating explosion, followed by secondary explosions that for a moment looked like they might spread to the reactor and destroy the entire ship.
"Fool!" Vort roared out. "I want the ship and crew intact!"
The weapons officer bowed his head submissively, apologizing. The General waved his first officer over. "Prepare boarding parties. Capture the ship, and as much of the crew as possible. Be fast, be efficient. These Federation dogs have stretched our forces farther than I like." He paused, death staring into the younger Klingons eyes. "I want Quintus. Alive."
The first officer snapped to. "Of course, General! Qapla!"
"Qapla." General Vort half heartedly returned the salutation before the first officer moved off, barking orders to the rest of the crew. Ninety years fighting the Federation, Romulans, Gorn, Tholians and every other Beta Quadrant power. Nine decades of experience whispered in the back of his mind, that perhaps already the victory was pyrrhic. No matter.
Today is a good day to die.