Is'Kah: The Price

[IsKah]

(( USS Inchon, Near Klingon Border, 2372 ))

 

“Hey, Staff Sergeant, do you think the Klingons will declare war?” asked a young woman with the green top of a Marine while sitting across from a Trill man.

“Private, I’m trying to eat my breakfast here,” he dropped his fork on his plate, knowing he wouldn’t have a chance to finish.

“Look, Sargeant Slu, the rumor mill says the Federation will go to war. Not if, but when. The Cardassians, Dominion, or the Klingons. There is a lot of latinum on all three at once,” the woman said.

Slu ran a hand down his face, “Darcy, you can’t believe everything you hear on the lower decks.”

“Come on, you’ve been in for eight years; surely you have your finger on the pulse of the fleet,” Darcy said, folding her hands on the table and leaning forward.

“Fine. Let’s just say that tomorrow's training at 0800 will answer what Sta-,” Slu was cut off by the ship going to Red Alert. He stood to look out the viewports, his eyes narrowing as the ship jumped to a high warp. The deck plating started to quiver slightly. “Come on, Darcy, suit up. We’re at war.”

“What do you mean?” Darcy asked while they jogged out of the lounge.

“We’re near Alpha Leonis. The only reason for going to Alert is if the captain suspects Kli—” the captain’s ship-wide announcement cut him off.

“Inchon, as of 0755 Zulu, the Federation is at war with the Klingon Empire. The cowards made their first strike against our outposts along the border.  We are en route to assist and, if necessary, defend lives. Inchon, never say die,” the captain ended the announcement.

Slu rolled his eyes, “Captain Smith and his wonderful words. We’re at war; we’re going to die a lot.”

“The captain thinks this old ship still has life in her,” Darcy commented while opening her combat locker.

“She’s over fifty years old. We’ll be dead if anything more than a bird of prey comes after us,” Slu growled, changing into his combat armor.

“Ambassador classes are a tank. They can take a hit,” Darcy cheerfully said, latching her boots.

“Twenty years ago, when our last refit happened. We’re due for retirement. This was meant to be the ship’s last cruise, but instead, they put us Marines on board,” Slu said. “She’s a troop carrier, not a warship anymore.”

The ship shook, knocking the two Marines against the bulkhead. “What was that?” a hint of fear in Darcy’s voice.

“Klingon disrupter fire on the aft shields. Come on, if they’re that close, then boarding parties can’t be that far behind. Full space combat setup,” Slu ordered while taking his helmet out of his locker.

“Space combat?” Darcy squeaked while shakily putting her helmet on and engaged the locks.  

Latching his helmet, Slu engaged his microphone, “Plan seventy-eight.”

Darcy looked confused, “plan what?”

Slu rolled his eyes, “Major Cline, Sargent Slu. Recommend plan seventy-eight.”

“I’d rather not confine my Marines like that,” Cline said in his ear.

“The first place they will try to board is the low-traffic area in the Engineering hull. They did that in the last war, and I don’t see them changing much since then,” Slu grabbed several blades, a couple of type one phasers, a type two, and his rifle. Affixing them all over his body, he turned to Darcy and made the come-on head move.

“Wouldn’t they just blow us up?” Cline asked over comms.

“They need the freshest intel. Plan seventy-eight is the best one to stop that,” Slu said.

“Fine, I’ll let the captain know, Cline out.”

“Are you going to tell me the plan now?” Darcy asked while they ran down the passageways to the aft of the saucer section.

“Only if we need to execute it. If you don’t know, then you’re not meant to know,” Slu said.

The ship shook from several strikes, sending the pair back to the deck, “Mag boots, Sargent?” Darcy wondered.

“Mag boots. Just enough to keep us on the decking,” Slu agreed. The pair finely reached the saucer's rear-view ports. They watched as two ships focused their fire on the port nacelle, trying to weaken it and succeeding. Torpedo after torpedo flew from the aft launchers, the phasers snapping shots off.

The ship shook when the aft shields failed because the port nacelle exploded, the starboard one flickering from the sudden imbalance. Blue lights started flashing with a more annoying buzzing sound than Red Alert, sending both Marines into a hyper-alert state. Slu lifted his hand and pointed for Darcy to follow him.

They came around a corner with their rifles up to find sparks coming from the wall; however, they couldn’t see the cause. They took cover and aimed. Slu gave a wicked grin, “Major. Execute with fields nighty-nine, one-oh-five, and seventy-seven on my mark.”

“Standing by, Sargent,” Cline said.

The ship shook again, causing a three-meter by two-meter piece of the hull to fall onto the deck with a loud thud. When five warriors jumped out, Slu shouted, “mark!”

Three forcefields appeared while the windows disengaged. The sudden decompression yanked the attackers out of the hull. Several more were pulled out of their ship, killing them instantly. The two Marines held their ground while they waited.

“Why are we waiting here?” Darcy whispered.

“I only counted nine dead. A Klingon assault team is thirty. The rest are preparing for EVA assault.”

“So, we’re safer here?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Slu adjusted his rifle. “Stay sharp, they are coming.”

“How do,” Darcy started to ask but closed her mouth when five more jumped out. Their disruptors started firing at the emitters in the Marine’s direction. It only took a few shots to short out the field, causing air to rush past them. Darcy was pulled forward at the waist while Slu fired the second the forcefield fell, killing two before the others could react.

With a silent battle cry, the largest Klingon started walking forward, a bat'leth in one hand. The rush of the wind forced him to move slowly. He took his second step when Darcy shot him in the chest, his body crumpling in a heap. A force field snapped behind the two marines, cutting off the suction.

Slu stood, his rifle barely pausing to aim while the pair dispatched their attackers. He flashed Darcy with one finger, flashed five, then pulled a grenade from its pouch. He glanced at his partner, who had her grenade in hand. The pair rolled them down the passage, bouncing off the hull plating before his exploded in a bright flash of light, Darcy’s following a second later.

The moment the forcefields stopped their sparkle from the shrapnel explosion, the pair rushed forward to the opening in the hull. They paused before leaping into the opening, Slu going high while Darcy went low. They took a moment to take in the pink gore that covered the bulkheads of the Klingon ship. Now that the hold was clear, Slu tapped Darcy’s shoulder.

Stepping over the leftover hull, Darcy slowly entered. After clearing the smaller areas, she gave an all-clear signal. Stu entered the attackers' ship, following slowly while covering Darcy’s sweep. The ship shook, Slu snapping his rifle behind him. He frowned, but the captain interrupted him before he could say anything.

“All hands abandon ship. The computer core has been blown, with the self-destruct set for five minutes,” Smith said calmly.

“Let’s get to our escape pods, Sargent,” Darcy said.

“No,” Slu barked. We take this ship. Come on.” Stu closed the inner hatch and pressurized the boarding room. The pair stood next to the cockpit door. He held up three fingers and slowly counted down. The moment he made a fist, Darcy hit the door open button.

Slu stepped through, causing one pilot to turn, “how many Federation d-,” he started. The Marine fired two shots, one for each pilot. He pulled one out of the chair while turning to Darcy. His blood ran cold because he had missed that Klingon who had engaged the Private in hand-to-hand combat. The younger Marine held her own, but not for long.

Yanking a knife from his belt, Slu let out a snarl while leaping at the Klingon’s back. The warrior turned to the noise source, but it left him open to Darcy’s next attack. She drove her blade into his stomach while Slu’s blade sunk into flesh along the spine. He fell with a crumple.

“Get us out of here, Darcy. There should be transporters. I’m going to start beaming any escaping crew I can into the hold,” Slu ordered.

“Aye, sir,” Darcy said in a clipped voice. She sat down, and moments later, the ship detached. “Slu, I’m picking up a dozen escape pods already.”

“Transporting now,” Slu said. Orange lights appeared in the middle of the hold.

“I never thought I’d be happy to see a Marine,” said a man with a blue physician's coat on.

“Step aside, Doctor Lang, we have many to rescue,” Slu said.

“Behind you,” called out Lang, causing Slu to turn. He saw the last Klingon, one he thought was dead, lunging at Darcy. Snarling, Slu flung himself at the warrior, tackling him. The man rolled, trying to kick the Marine off him. Compensating, Slu slid one hand around the attacker’s arm and grasped his neck.

“Federation filth,” the Klingon snarled while pushing himself up with his free hand. Slu tried to keep his target immobilized but couldn’t stop him from twisting around. Instantly, the man had Slu’s hands around his throat. The Klingon grabbed Slu’s forearms, trying to break the grip.

Darcy twisted, barking, “Doctor, take over transporting.” She looked helpless to help her sergeant, “The longer we’re here, the more likely we’ll be caught.”

“It’s in Klingon. What am I reading here?” Lang demanded while looking at the console.

“Tap the ones that say Starfleet,” Darcy said.

“Here goes nothing,”  Lang said while tapping an icon with one hand and using the other to control the controls. Two people appeared. That worked. Let's see who else is out there.”

The warrior had stopped struggling and breathing. Slu took a hand off the Klingon to grab his knife, only for the man’s bloodshot eyes to snap open, grab his knife, and plunge it into the side of Slu’s head. He fell to the side with a thump. Darcy slammed her knife into his chest before he could make another move. She then stabbed it in the man’s second heart to make sure he’d stay dead.

“You, take over transporting; I need to help the sergeant,” barked Lang. The Ensign nodded and scrambled over. He knelt while taking his tricorder out. He shook his head, “he’s still alive. Crewman Dan, get over here and help me remove his armor. Don’t touch the helmet.” The crewman staggered to his feet to assist the doctor.

An alarm started flashing on the pilot’s console. Darcy turned and said, “Sorry, Doc, we need to go. We’re being questioned by a Klingon ship. They want to know why we’re not attached anymore. I’ve sent a message that we have prisoners for the Chancellor, but if we don’t go now, they will  override the video, and then we’ll be dead.”

Lang hit the buttons to vent Slu’s suit, which allowed him to free Slu’s helmet from the suit. He then took a laser scalpel out of his coat pocket, lowered its power, and started cutting away Slu’s suit. “Stay here, Private. We’ve only managed to save ten people. We can rescue more people,” Lang pleaded.

Moments later, the shuttle shuttered because it was going to warp. “I’m sorry, Doctor. Do what you can for the Sargent. Once out of sensor range, we’ll turn for Star Base Twenty-eight.”

“You disobeyed a direct order,” Lang said.

“No, sir. I obeyed an order from someone in my direct command, the sergeants,” Darcy said.

Lang cut away Slu’s shirt, carefully putting the strips against the wound. He took his coat off and cut it up to provide more bandages. He stood up with a sigh and turned to leave.

“You’re going just leave him there?” Darcy demanded.

He is brain-dead. I’m only giving him any kind of care because his symbiont is keeping him alive. I’m going to check the others. There is nothing I can do here. Slu has slowed Jarkal’s heart and taken over the rest of the bodily functions. I’m not sure how he’s doing it, but he is. I need to check the others,” Lang said softly.

Tears slid down Darcy’s face as she turned back to the control panel. “We’re out of sensor range. Changing course, ETA two hours,” her voice cracked.

Lang patted Darcy’s shoulder, “It’s the best we could have done, Private. You did well.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Darcy said.

“Maybe one day it will,” Lang said, heading to the hold to help the injured crewmen. “Maybe it will,” he said to himself. 

Edited March 8 by IsKah
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