Forty-three minutes remained on Lt Cdr Rynka Korren’s original estimate. She had stopped looking at the clock. The USS Johnston’s warp core filled Main Engineering with a blue-white pulse that was almost regular. Every seventh cycle though, the light shifted. Not enough for someone unfamiliar with warp systems to notice. To Korren, it was as obvious as a limp.

“Again,” she said.

Lt Sengar Hesh watched the diagnostic trace across his console. “Constrictor three is still lagging.”

“How much?”

“Point-two-seven,” he said. “It was point-three-one.”

Across the compartment Ens Wei Chen was half inside an open EPS junction. He’d not long arrived on the Horizon himself before they’d received the Johnston’s distress call. A lot of crew had arrived recently, at least a lot of junior officers. He seemed capable enough to Korren, even with his junior years.

She looked towards him, only his boots and lower legs were visible. “Chen?”

His voice came from inside the bulkhead. “Almost.”

“You said that three minutes ago.”

“I was less correct then, sorry commander.”

Hesh glanced towards Korren, she didn’t look back at him. “Don’t” she said.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were going to.”

“I was about to say I like him.”

Korren turned her attention to the warp core. “So far…. He’s still a part of our team.”

The Johnston’s chief engineer, Lt Cdr Tomas, stood at an auxiliary station monitoring the coolant pressure. His expression had improved a little since Korren and her team had arrived. Though, it was still terrible. It now looked like the expression of a man who believed his ship might merely be damaged rather than moments from becoming a cloud of debris and plasma.

“I’ve got secondary coolant flow up another six percent,” Tomas said.

Hesh checked it. “That takes some pressure off the containment regulation.”

“Not enough,” Korren replied.

“no.”

The core pulsed. Though this time, it did not flicker on the seventh one. Korren looked at Hesh and he checked his display. Neither spoke for a few moments…. Stable.

Chen slid himself backwards out of the EPS junction and landed on the deck with a tool in one hand. His dark hair and forehead and acquired a streak of something long its side.

“Port distribution bypass is holding.”

Korren moved to the nearest console. “Load?”

“Thirty-nine percent and rising.”

“You used the auxiliary EPS relay?”

Chen nodded, “It was already damaged.” He wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist. “I routed around the damaged hardware using the environmental distribution trunk.”

Tomas stopped and looked toward him, “That circuit isn’t rated for warp core regulation!”

“No, not continuously,” Chen replied.

Tomas moved from his console, “How long will it hold?”

“Longer than forty-three minutes.” He said.

Korren smiled, not a large smile but for her that was practically applause. Good,” she said to both.

—–

Back on the Horizon, the bridge crew were moving with quiet efficiency. The bridge had become the centre of a system extending across both vessels.

The Horizon’s transporters were running almost continuously to transport casualties, replace damaged equipment and move damage control teams. Its tractor beam held the damaged Ambassador class steady. Power reserved were been redirected and shields remained at the ready.

Lt B’lai Ty’ler was simultaneously monitoring the Johnston’s recovering network through a dozen temporary data links. She had never been happier.

“Korren to Ty’ler,” the chief engineers voice came across comms.

“Yes,” she replied.

“We’re ready to attempt a containment reset,” Korren continued. “Can you monitor the Johnston’s power grid as a back up for the Bridge crew here, the systems are still a little…. Spotty.”

Ty’ler looked toward Captain Vahl who nodded toward her. She looked at the power distribution display, switching the readout from the Horizon to the Johnston. It was unfamiliar to her but it wasn’t too different from her ship, the Horizon after all was build around a ship built at a similar time.

—–

In the Johnston’s main engineering the lights all went out at once. Then the emergency lighting activated. The warp core remained alive, its blue glow filling the section.

Chen looked up, “Was that supposed to happen?”

“No,” Korren said,

Hesh checked him console, “There’s a power drain, I can’t isolate it.”

Tomas swore, “Can we abort?”

Korren watched the figures, “no.”

An alarm sounded from Hesh’s console, “Containment field falling.”

Korren moved to the station, “Ty’ler can you transfer power to stabilise containment?” she said through the comms, it still remaining open from before.

“Working on it,” came Ty’ler’s response.

Korren’s jaw tightened. Chen moved to another console, “I can attempt to reroute local battery support?”

“No,” Korren replied. “I might destabilise the antimatter injectors. We don’t need another problem today”

Chen moved his hands away from the console, trusting his commander’s instincts. There were moments in engineering when instinct demanded action but sometimes you had to trust another’s.

Then, the lights came back, consoles came back to life.

Hesh stared at his readout, “Power transfer locked, the Horizon is giving us what we need.”

Korren looked up at the core, the pulse changed and the irregularity disappeared. A clean rhythm moved through the chamber.

Hesh checked one display and then another. “Constrictors are synchronising.”

Tomas stepped closer, “antimatter regulation”?

“Stabilising.”

“Coolant pressure,” Tomas asked again.

“Within tolerance,” Chen answered.

Stable, Korren thought. Finally, she exhaled. “containment?”

Hesh looked at her. “Ninety-four and rising.”

Tomas leaned against the console. For the first time since they had arrived, the Johnston’s chief engineer allowed himself a moment to look tired.

“Well, you’re not going anywhere under warp power, but she’s not going to die just yet.” Korren said to him. “The port nacelle needs replacing and your field coils took enough thermal stress that I don’t trust half of the control relays between here and the nacelles.”

“Can we get her moving without external support?” Tomas asked.

Korren looked at Hesh, he’s pulled apart enough cores to really know and she trusted him with an estimate more than any repair station. “Days,” he said, “Honestly, I can’t see her maintaining a warp bubble without extensive repairs at a station.”

“Deep Space 17 isn’t very close.” Tomas said.

“No.” replied Korren. She tapped her combadge, “Korren to Captain Vahl.”

“Go ahead,” came an immediate response.

“The core is stable and containment failure is no longer imminent. Though, the warp drive is offline until they reach Deep Space 17 and undertake repairs.”

“They cannot leave the system?” she asked.

“No Captain.”

“Can we tow them at warp?”

Hesh answered through the same channel. “Not safely in their current structural condition, Captain. The stress on the engineering hull would be considerable.”

Vahl looked at the viewscreen, beyond the Johnston, at the dark region of space where Ripleigh had detected the earlier distortion.

The hostile vessel had vanished. The Johnston had not.

“Understood,” she said.

The channel closed.

No one on the bridge needed the next order explained. The Horizon was staying, at least for now.

—–

Lt Rix had rebuilt the attack seventeen times in order to understand what had happened. However, the Johnston’s sensor records had gaps so each was incomplete.

The Johnston and the unidentified Klingon vessel were detailed upon the display in front of him. As he started the next sequence the Klingon vessel decloaked, their first shot takes out the Johnston’s comms. The second their engines.

“They knew exactly where to hit them,” Lt Helena Ripleigh said over Rix’s shoulder.

“They’re Klingons, and it’s an old ship. I’d be more worried if they didn’t know,” Rix replied.

Their next hit impacted near the saucer section, nothing really of significance.

Ripleigh leaned closer, “wait, there,” she said.

Rix froze the reconstruction. The Johnston rotated slowly on the screen, damage markers clustered along one section. Ripleigh brought up the internal deck plan.

Ty’ler crossed the bridge from her Ops station carrying a PADD. “What have you got?”

Rix overlaid brought up the passenger manifest. A highlighted section appeared inside the saucer.

VIP quarters.

Ty’ler stared. “The Klingons.” She said.

Rix restarted the simulation. Once the Johnston’s propulsion was disabled they could have disabled the vessel. But they didn’t fire.

Instead, disruptor beams crossed the saucer again, exactly where ethe diplomatic party had been housed.

Ripleigh looked at Rix, “If they wanted to destroy the ship…”

“They could have,” he finished.

Ty’ler studied the display. “The crippled comms, so they couldn’t call for help. Then propulsion so they couldn’t run.”

“They were after someone aboard the ship, not the ship itself.” Rix said.

Ripleigh nodded, “and everyone else was collateral.”

—–

Cdr Rupert Cavendish arrived aboard the Horizon without ceremony. The transporter chief looked up as the shimmering light revealed him on the pad.

Cavendish wore the same uniform he had worn during the attack. Though, he’d cleaned the blood from his face.

He carried no luggage.

His belongings remained aboard the Johnston, assuming they weren’t destroyed in the attack. He made a mental note to check in with the Johnston’s XO after all of this to see if he still owned anything.

The transporter chief stepped forwards. “Welcome aboard Commander.”

Cavendish looked briefly around the room.

“Thank you.”

His combadge sounded, “Vahl to Cavendish.”

“Yes Captain.” He replied.

“Report to briefing room one.”

The channel closed. Cavendish stepped off the pad and headed straight for the door.

The chief looked toward the doorway, “Do you need directions sir?”

Cavendish hesitated. It was perhaps the first time that day that he did so. “Yes.” He replied.

The transporter chief smiled.

“Turbolift at the end of the corridor. Deck two.”

“Thank you.”

Cavendish left.

The chief watched the doors close. Then looked towards the other transporter officer.

“Now first officer?”

The operator nodded.

“He looks cheerful.”

“He had a busy morning.”

—–

The Klingon Ambassador, K’Vagh, did not sit.

Captain Vahl had offered. He declined. So too had the two Klingon aids standing beside him.

The conference table inside briefing room one remained mostly empty. Lt Rix sat opposite the Klingons with Ripleigh beside him. Vahl occupied the head of the table.

Cavendish entered quietly, Vahl nodded in acknowledgement which he returned. There was no ceremony, not formal reporting. She glanced at the empty seat to her left.

Cavendish sat.

K’Vagh regarded him for a moment. “You were aboard the Johnston.”

“I was.” He replied.

“You fought?”

“No.”

The ambassador frowned.

“I coordinated damage control,” Cavendish explained.

Vahl brought up the tactical reconstruction on the wall display.

“Ambassador, Lt Rix and Lt Ripleigh have completed a preliminary analysis of the attack.” She said.

K’Vagh looked at the screen. His face revealed nothing.

Vahl continued. “The vessel which attacks the Johnston had plenty of opportunities to destroy her. Comms and propulsion were both taken out during their fist pass.”

The reconstruction continued on the screen showing the battle and the impacts against the Starfleet ships hull.

“The attacker was not trying to destroy the vessel, they were attempting to prevent someone aboard from leaving.”

K’Vagh remained silent.

Vahl leaned slightly forward. “Ambassador, I asked Captain Sand whether your delegation was the target. At the time, she did not know.”

“She still does not.” The ambassador said.

“I do.”

K’vagh’s eyes hardened toward her. One of the Klingon aides shifted.

Vahl continued, “the attacker ignored the Johnston’s warp core after her shield were compromised. They had the perfect opportunity for victory. They did not take it.”

Rix changed the display.

“They chose this instead.”

The diplomatic section illuminated on the screen. K’Vagh looked at it as Vahl waited for a reaction. Silence could be useful in diplomacy, she’d learned that before she had put a forth pip on her collar.

Eventually K’Vagh spoke. “What do you believe you know.”

“That someone wanted to trap you delegation.” Vahl said, her gaze remaining upon him. “And then, then they attempted to kill one or all of you.”

K’Vagh looked towards Cavendish. Perhaps expecting him to contribute, though, he remained silent.

Vahl had the room.

“We are travelling to Deep Space 17 under the authority of the Klingon High Council.”

“I know”

“Then our purpose is a matter for the Empire.”

“Ordinarily, yes.”

Vahl gestured toward the image of the USS Johnston. “Someone just made is a matter for Starfleet as well.”

K’Vagh’s expression hardened. “You believe an attack upon a singular Starfleet vessel entitles you to interfere in Klingon political affairs?”

“No.” Vahl’s answer came immediately. “I believe two hundred and seventeen wounded Starfleet personnel entitle Captain Sand to know why someone attacker her ship and crew.”

That landed. K’Vagh looked at the display again. When he spoke, the performance had now left his voice. “the discussions at Deep Space 17 are not routine diplomatic negotiations.”

Ripleigh glanced towards Rix.

Vahl remained still.

K’Vagh continued. “Several houses have requested new agreements concerning the secondment of vessels to Starfleet. They’d like additional patrol information, shared intelligence and information on restrictions.”

Rix understood this problem immediately. “Some houses would see this as Federation oversight of Klingon activity?”

“Some houses.” K’Vagh said, “see compromise wherever they are not permitted to do precisely as they please.”

There was contempt in his words, Vahl heard it and almost smiled.

“Councillor Torvak supports the negotiations.” K’Vagh said.

“So this,” Vahl asked, “was about Torvak?”

K’Vagh sighed, “he proposed the negotiations, he argued for them before the High council himself.”

Vahl frowned. “So everyone who opposed them knew he would be aboard the Johnston?”

“Not everyone,” he replied. “But enough.”

K’Vagh’s hand tightened around the edge of the table. “There are those who believe that no Klingon should negotiate limits on their own affairs.”

“And Torvak?” Vahl asked.

“Believes that warriors who spend all their time carrying a blade forget the reason they carry one.”

Vahl considered the words. “how many oppose him?”

K’Vagh smiled. “He’s a Klingon politician, so probably everyone.”

His expression darked. “Many KDF warships have loyalty to their house foremost.”

Vahl nodded. “Which gives us a large list.”

“Then lets shorten it.” She said.

For the first time the Klingon ambassador smiled.

“You negotiate like someone who’s spend much time around Klingons.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

K’Vagh straightened. “Torvak remains in surgery?”

“Yes.”

“And the attackers now? Have you tracked them?”

“Still somewhere nearby but we can’t pinpoint them.”

The ambassadors humour vanished. His gaze moved towards the wall as though he could see through it into the space beyond. “They will return. If Torvak was their target, they have failed.”

“Then perhaps you should tell me who they are.” Said Vahl.

K’Vagh said nothing.

She looked toward Cavendish and signed, then back to K’Vagh. “For the moment, Ambassador, Councillor Torvak remains under Starfleet medical care. The Johnston is incapable of warp travel, and the Horizon will remain here until she can be towed back to Deep Space 17.”

“You intend to defend him?” K’Vagh asked.

“I intend to protect everyone out there.” She said glancing toward the image of the Ambassador class on the display. “Torvak just happens to be included.”

The lighting in the briefing suddenly changed colour, the comm system chiming at the same time.

“Bridge to Captain Vahl. Red alert”

Vahl was already moving toward the door as she tapped he badge to reply, “On our way.”

—-

The bridge doors opened before Vahl reached them.

“Report.”

Rix took over the position at tactical “cloaking distortion, bearing one-one-nine mark four.”

Vahl dropped into the command chair at the centre of the bridge.

Cavendish took up his position at her side in the first officer’s seat, pulling his terminal toward him.

“Same signature?” Vahl asked.

Ripleigh checked. “yes Captain, it matched the distortion we detected earlier.”

Vahl looked toward the Johnston on the main viewscreen. The old Ambassador class floated nearby. Warp drive disabled. Impulse power being repaired. Hull still breached in multiple places.

“Captain,” Cavendish continued, “The Johnston still had forty-three of our people on board.”

Vahl knew, Medica, engineering, damaged control.

“Get Korren and our people back over here, I’ve a feeling we’re going to need them.” She said.

She looked toward the viewscreen again, the view moved as the Horizon banked toward the potential threat. The stars filled it and for an instant that was all it displayed.

Then, the shape changed. A shape emerged. Light bending around an invisible hull. Then the green slow of Klingon systems coming fully into view.

“Confirmed, Klingon Vessel.” Rix said. “It’s charging weapons.”

Beside Vahl, Cavendish watched the tactical display in silence.

Rix looked towards the captain, “They’re coming straight towards us.”

On the viewscreen the Klingon vessel grew larger, this time, they were not hiding.