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The logs from the Klingon ship were not very descriptive, Mark decided. Its Captain preferred brief statements with minimal personal comments or descriptions, and this made for dry reading. Apparently, the ship had been on lengthy border patrol duty with each log entry much the same as the last. The high point of the Klingon Captain's month, it seemed, had been the delivery of food and medical supplies to nearby border colonies.
As Mark scanned the computer screen before him, he glanced over his shoulder at Turek and tried again to make him go away.
"You know, Lieutenant Commander, I dont want to keep you if you have other duties...."
"There is nothing that currently requires my attention. I am free to assist you."
"Oh. Good." Mark said with an enthusiasm he did not feel, as he turned his attention back to the screen.
"As Chief Tactical Officer, I feel it is my duty to examine the damaged vessel logs with you. If there is a danger to Prometheus in this sector, it is only logical that I learn of it as quickly as possible." he added.
Mark sighed inwardly. When Turek had offered his help, he should have declined. Adamantly. The Vulcan's suggestions and comments were grating and quite frankly, making it more difficult for him to concentrate on the task at hand. In fact, thinking about how annoying Turek was, he almost missed a reference in the log. A reference about a ship suddenly emerging from hyperspace. Before the Klingon captain could describe it further, the entry ended abruptly.
"Figures." Mark sighed.
"It is most unfortunate that the entry was terminated." Turek agreed.
Mark glared at the screen in frustration, willing it to divulge the information he needed. "What about the sensor data?" he said thoughtfully. If they could determine what the Klingon captain saw on sensors before he died, it would shed some light on who the attacker was.
"That may prove more difficult. The vessel's computer system was damagaed and the data it stored is likely damaged as well. The Captain's logs are only complete because they housed their own back up power source."
"Even if we can only partially retrieve the data, we may be able to learn something. Ships like Romulan warbirds have characteristic sensor patterns."
"There is no evidence the Romulans are involved." Turek pointed out.
"You're right, Turek. But who else would it be? The Cardies arent bold enough to sneak around in Federation space but the Romulans have cloak technology. And the guts to violate our borders."
"Agreed. However, your assumption has no logical basis."
Mark smiled condescendingly. "Sometimes, you just know things in your gut."
Turek raised an eyebrow and replied. "Indeed."
For a moment, Mark thought he saw a flicker of exasperation in the Vulcan's eyes, but it vanished as Turek said, "Let us proceed."
*************
Mirana silently approached the biobed and hovered over her patient, searching for a sign of responsiveness, no matter how small. She was rewarded with only the sounds of even breathing, the Klingon's chest rising and falling in slow rhythm. He had been this way since he was rescued, his body healing from plasma burns but his mind was a different story. She glanced at the vital sign display on the biobed, registering blood pressure, heart rate, and brainwave patterns characteristic of a continued comatose state.
"Doctor! Come quick!" Efram Mendala, one of her technicians, called in alarm from the next biobed, his expression urgent.
Mirana was by his side within moments. "What is it?" she asked quickly. At the sound of her voice, her Klingon patient opened his eyes, blinking in confusion. He focused on Mirana and frowned.
"What is this?" he frwoned, struggling to sit up.
Mirana gently restrained him, pushing him down with one hand and murmering quietly to Eram to notify the bridge.
"You need to lie still. You suffered severe internal injuries, barely surviving surgery, and if you keep fidgeting like that, you'll ruin all of my hard work." Mirana firmly insisted as he tried to rise once more.
"What happened?"
"You were wounded during the fighting on your ship. We were hoping you could shed some light on the details. Such as your name."
"I am Logh, and my ship was attacked. Who are you?" he asked suspiciously.
Mirana glanced up as the doors to sickbay slid open and Naeve Sevril and Mark O'Conner briskly walked in, their expressions eager. She waved them over to the disoriented Klingon and said, "I am Dr. Keset. This is Commander O'Conner and Lieutenant Commander Sevril. You are on the USS Prometheus."
"A Starfleet vessel?" he asked in an ominous tone.
"Yes" Naeve cut in. "We'd like to ask you some questions--" Naeve didn't have a chance to finish her sentence before Logh pushed himself into a sitting position and attempted to lunge at her.
"Starfleet traitors! Now I am to be a prisoner?"
Mark and Mirana forcibly restrained him, but he continued to struggle, his face becoming more and more agitated.
"You attacked us! We are your allies and you lured us into your space to destroy us!"
Mirana looked at the readings on the biobed with rising alarm. His vital signs were significantly elevated. As the Klingon continued to rave, she grabbed a hypospray and snatched at his wrist.
"I need to sedate you before you hurt yourself." she warned him.
Logh snarled in response and knocked the hypospray out of her hand. It slid across the floor, hit a storage cabinet, and stayed there.
"Do not touch me! I will hunt down the Captain of your USS Metternich and scatter his bones to the four winds. This I vow to Kahless!" Logh gasped suddenly, his eyes bulging, and ceased to struggle. His breath came out in a long shuddering sound and Mirana realized, belatedly, what was happening.
"Cardiostimulator!" she snapped at Efram, who immediately placed one in her palm. She elbowed the others out of the way, set it on his chest, and stepped back. Logh's chest lurched forward, then fell back on the table, his arm hanging limply by his side. Once, twice, a third time his body spasmed in response to the jolt of electricity, but he remained unmoving.
"What happened?" Mark demanded.
"He's dead." Mirana said in disgust. "Probably pulmonary embolism." *I should have seen it coming. Should have responded faster.*
"He accused a Starfleet vessel of attacking him? He was obviously lying." Naeve frowned.
"He wasn't lying." Mirana disagreed as she gently removed the electrodes and monitors from Logh's body.
"What do you mean?" Mark interjected.
Mirana shrugged, but did not pause in her work. "He believed what he was saying was true. I could sense it."
"But that's impossible." Naeve objected.
At that moment, Mark's commbadge chirped persistently.
< Turek to Commander O'Conner. >
Mark tapped it impatiently. "O'Conner here."
< I require your assistance immediately. I have completed my analysis on the sensor data just prior to the attack. >
"And?"
< The data is fragmented but the readings appear to match those of a Miranda class Starfleet vessel.>
*************
III
"And you're sure about this."
"Positive, Captain." Mark insisted.
Colin frowned as he examined the PADD before him. Unfortunately, rereading the data didn't make it any less true. Making faces at it didn't help matters either. Things were becoming more complicated with each passing moment. What had started out as a simple information gathering mission now seemed to be revealing something more sinister. Unless the Bird of Prey's sensors had been tampered with, and this seemed unlikely, it had encountered a Starfleet vessel right before it was attacked. The sensor signature was evidence he couldn't deny. They needed an explanation.
He glanced up at his first officer, who waited silently for a reaction, fingers clasped together. Next to him sat Turek, rigidly erect with his hands on his lap and a barely discernable frown.
"What's your assessment, gentlemen?" he finally asked.
"We don't understand it, sir. We've checked Fleet records and there is no mention of any vessel being ordered to within 20 lightyears of this system within the past six months. And there's no record of an altercation with the Klingons anywhere in Federation space. According to Starfleet, nothing happened out here." Mark said, frustration evident in his tone.
Turek continued. " Before the Klingon died, he made a reference to a ship named the Metternich, vowing to dismember its captain."
"Metternich? I may not know evey ship in the fleet, but the name doesn't sound even remotely familiar." Colin said thoughtfully.
"That is because it does not exist. There is no record of a commissioning for a Miranda class vessel with that name. There is only one record of a USS Metternich, and this was a Constellation class vessel destroyed by the Borg at Wolf 359." Turek promptly informed him.
"So." Colin began slowly. "What you're telling me is the Klingons were in a fight with a Starfleet vessel that doesn't exist."
"Apparently so, Captain." Mark agreed unhappily.
"That's unacceptable. I can't go back to the Admiralty with that in my mission log." Colin frowned. "We need to get to the bottom of this. Dig deeper." he said shortly.
As Colin was about to call the meeting to a close, his commbadge chirped.
He tapped it once. "Yes?"
< Captain to the bridge. A vessel is approaching through subspace with a Klingon warp signature. >
He exchanged glances with his XO and tactical officer. "It appears we're about to get visitors. Care to join me on the bridge?"
************
Colin had barely stepped out of the turbolift when the image on the screen captured his attention. A large Klingon cruiser had materialized before them, hovering ominously.
"Status." he barked as he crossed the room, not once taking his eyes off the cruiser. Naeve Sevril slipped out of his chair and surrendered the position as chief bridge officer to her CO.
"He just dropped out of warp. Our shields are up but I didn't want to provoke him by powering up our weapons." she briefly filled him in.
"We're being hailed." announced Ensign Kiri Sath from the Ops station.
"Onscreen."
The image of the cruiser vanished, replaced by the face of a Klingon with a shock of white hair streaked liberally with grey. A very angry Klingon, if his expression was any indication.
Colin blinked in surprise as he realized he recognized him. "Captain Vartok."
The Klingon peered in his direction, frowning, and Colin supressed a smile. Vartok was rather near sighted and tended to squint, but he'd sooner slit your throat than admit it. Physical weaknesses, regardless of how small, weren't looked apon kindly by his people. After a moment, recognition seemed to dawn and the gruff face broke into a grin.
"Captain Becker?"
"How've you been, you old bulldog?" Vartok and Colin had fought together during the Dominion War and had developed a friendship over several battles followed by flasks of bloodwine. Vartok was aggressive, but he wasn't foolish and if anyone could help him make sense of what had happened, it was him.
The grin faded as suddenly as it had appeared. "I wish this was a social visit, but it is not."
Colin nodded understandly. "You've come about your ship."
"I did not think you would admit it so freely." Vartok said with some surprise. "Why is the Federation severing our treaty in so honorless a manner?"
"We've done nothing, Vartok. I assure you. The Federation is innocent."
"You would lie to me? The Federation may be worthless but I thought you to be a man of honor."
"I assure you, I am telling the truth. Allow me to explain."
The Klingon leaned closer. "Explain? What is to explain? THe IKV Pat'leth was lured into Federation space by a distress signal. But there was no injured ship, was there? The Pat'leth didn't even have her weapons online--she was not expecting a fight in an ally's territory. A Starfleet vessel took them by surprise, and from what I can see, has murdered forty warriors of the Empire. Your error was that all Captain's logs are beamed to Klingon Military Headquarters as they are composed. If it wasn't for that, I might have arrived too late to prove your treachery."
"Treachery?" Colin purposely kept his voice calm. Vartok still had not powered his weapons--there was a chance to end the confrontation peacefully. "Vartok, when we arrived, the battle was long over. We tried to save your people. Our medical staff did the best they could with those we brought aboard but their injuries were too extensive. Only one has survived, and he is in a coma. The ship that attacked you wasn't one of ours--there is no record of its existence in our database."
"You expect me to believe you?" Vartok asked incredulously.
"Vartok. You know me well. We fought side by side. Do you know me to lie?"
Vartok did not answer, his eyes narrowed into twin slits as he regarded Colin silently. "Do you know what you ask of me? Do you know my orders? I am to destroy your vessel and the High Council will declare war on the Federation for breaking the treaty."
"You want a war as much as I do. Will you ignore a chance to find out that perhaps you're wrong? Help me discover what really happened! Let us both hunt the one who is truly responsible." Colin urged.
"I have my orders." Vartok insisted quietly.
"Give me half an hour to continue our investigation. I'll lower my shields as a sign of my trust."
Mark glanced sharply at Colin, dismay etched in his features. *Is he crazy?*
"During the Dominion War, you told me to trust you. Now I ask the same of you. I will find out who killed the crew of the Pat'leth. I just need time." Colin ordered Turek to lower the shields.
"Captain, I do not think it is wise--" Turek began to protest.
"Just do it." Colin's voice was pure steel. His eyes remained on Vartok.
"The Klingon vessel has powered up their weapons. They have targeted us." Turek informed him.
Colin held Vartok's gaze, praying he was still the Vartok of old, and that he had made the right decision.
"I will wait. For now. But I am not a patient man." he glowered at Colin and severed the link.
Colin let out the breath he was unaware he had been holding. His hand would have trembled if it had not been in a fist at his side. He would waste no time.
"Becker to Dr. Keset." he nearly barked into his commbadge.
< Keset here. > was the wary reply.
"I need you to wake that Klingon and I need you to do it now."
< But-- >
" I said now. I'll be in Sickbay in five minutes to speak to him. Becker out." Colin took a step forward but Mark swiftly blocked his path, his eyes two slivers of ice.
"Captain, I need to speak with you. Privately." he wore an expression of grim determination.
"It'll have to wait, Exec. I'm a little busy right now."
"Captain--"
"I said later. I'm trying to save this ship and the Federation from a war we can't afford. Stand aside or assist me." Colin spoke quietly, but he was aware the exchange was being watched by all on the bridge.
Mark said nothing for a long moment. At last, grudgingly, "I'll come with you."
"Glad to hear it. " Colin offered him a humorless smile as he headed for the turbolift. Mark trailed wordlessly behind him as the bridge staff followed them silently with thier eyes. Naeve exchanged glances with Turek and crossed her fingers. *I hope he knows what he's doing.*
*********
Mirana angrily checked her patient's body chemistry with her tricorder, found it to be unchanged, and tossed the scanner onto a nearby countertop. The Klingon was medically stable, but remained in a comatose state. He occasionally twitched a finger or moaned softly, but he would not rouse. She might be able to force him to regain consciousness through chemical means or by using a cortical stimulator--but that was an option her ethics made difficult to offer.
Five minutes ago, the Captain had given her an order to wake the Klingon. She supposed he expected her patient to be playing parisi squares and writing him a report of the attack by the time he came to Sickbay. And his tone when he spoke to her--she didn't particularly appreciate it. A 'please' or 'thank you' wouldn't have killed the man.
As if on cue, Colin and Mark stepped into Sickbay, both faces grim, and advanced on her in unison. Mirana didn't need to use her empathic skills to sense the determination in Colin and the mixture of resentment and anger in Mark. She opened her mouth to speak. "Captain, I must protest--"
Colin interupted brusquely. "Your protest is duly noted, Doctor. Wake him up now."
"If I force him , I may injure him farther. He can't physically take much more than he's already been through." she warned.
"Understood." Colin said calmly. "Proceed."
Mirana, white faced and rigid, tried once again. "Captain, I don't think you understand--"
"Doctor, I regret any risks I may be asking you to take with your patient's health, but if we don't find out what happened, none of us will survive long enough to care."
"Alright. " she replied reluctantly, pressing a hypospray to his neck. She waited expectantly, but he continued breathing deeply, with eyes closed. Frowning, she refilled the hypospray, and pressed it to his neck once more. This time, the results were immediate. The Klingon stiffened and let out a low, strangled sound. His eyes flew open and he began to struggle.
Mirana quickly placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "You're alright. You're in sickbay on a starfleet vessel, USS Prometheus. You've been unconscious for a while, so take it easy." she said softly.
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