“That should still be more than a match for the Tholians,” Ineti offered. “The Klingon commander should strike now, while the other ship exposes itself to attack as it attempts to render aid.”
While she and Ineti watched, the undamaged Tholian ship swept toward the Klingon cruiser. It released a fresh volley of weapons fire as it described an intricate series of rolling, twisting evasive maneuvers that succeeded in avoiding most of the return fire the warship could muster, compromised as it was due to the loss of its forward weapons emplacements. New wounds were gouged into the ship’s hull as the Tholian weapons found their mark, punching through the thick armored plating like a wild animal sinking its teeth into the soft flesh of newly captured prey.
The tactic seemed to work, as the cruiser abruptly rotated once more on its axis in what to Sarith appeared a desperate attempt to protect severely damaged sections of its exposed hull. Taking advantage of the momentary respite as the Klingon ship ceased its attempts to return fire, the Tholian vessel darted away from the point of attack, coming alongside its wounded companion. It produced a bright orange beam of energy that lanced out to envelop the damaged ship before accelerating again, this time away from the scene of battle.
“Retreat?” Sarith said, reacting with genuine surprise to what she was seeing on the screen. “No stomach for conflict when the tide turns against them?”
Still standing next to her, Ineti frowned. “Most unexpected. It appeared they had the tactical advantage.”
“Is the Klingon vessel giving chase?” Sarith asked.
There was a distinct pause, but before she could turn to rebuke her subordinates for the delay in answering her question, N’tovek suddenly looked up from his station. “Commander, they’re altering their course and heading in this direction.”
What?
“Disengage all power systems except for the cloak and passive sensors,” Sarith ordered without another moment’s hesitation. “Now!”
They had been detected. It was the only logical explanation, she decided, but how?
All around her, consoles went dark as power generated by the Talon’s engines was severed. The bridge was plunged into darkness as life-support and illumination disengaged, and Sarith felt a momentary twinge in her stomach when the artificial gravity was first lost then restored, low-power battery backup systems automatically engaging to compensate for the loss of primary power. Dim red lighting flickered on, distorting the shadows and the expressions on the faces of the crew around her.
“Report,” she said, involuntarily adopting a hushed whisper as she issued the order. Logic told her the measure was ridiculous, as sounds could not travel through the vacuum of space, but nevertheless she felt somewhat eased by not disrupting the shroud of quiet that had fallen over the bridge.
Apparently, she was not alone. “All primary systems are offline, Commander,” N’tovek replied, his own voice low and subdued yet clearly audible now that the control room’s characteristic background noises had faded. “The Klingon vessel is moving in this direction on half-impulse. Its sensors are active at full power.”
So, they had somehow been detected. Sarith looked to Ineti and saw even through the shadows masking her old friend’s face that the subcommander shared her deduction.
“How?” she asked him, neither of them requiring her to elaborate.
“I suspect the Tholians,” Ineti replied, also employing a reserved tone. “Perhaps the vessel we encountered was able to transmit information on what their sensors recorded before we destroyed it.”
That made sense, Sarith decided. If indeed the Tholians had relayed information on whatever sensor readings they had registered prior to their destruction, it was possible that data had been disseminated to other vessels traveling the Taurus Reach. For all she knew, her vessel might already be a quarry hunted by the forces of the Tholian Assembly.
Her jaw clenching as she regarded that alarming theory, Sarith turned to where N’tovek manned the bridge’s only operational workstation. Almost all of the controls and gauges before him were darkened in response to operating on battery backup systems. Only the soft blue glow of the sensor viewfinder into which he peered offered any sign of activity across the otherwise lifeless control room. “Where are they?” she asked.
“Four hundred mat’drihto port and closing,” N’tovek replied. “They are executing a series of irregular steering maneuvers, Commander.” Looking up from the viewfinder, he fixed Sarith with a knowing gaze. “It appears to be a search pattern.”
The Klingon vessel already was closer than the first Tholian vessel had been when its sensors apparently had detected the cloaked Talon. Were sensors aboard the battle cruiser at least as proficient as their Tholian counterparts?
The angled bulkheads of the bridge seemed to press in around them as Sarith counted off the intervals until—based on her calculations—the Klingon warship would either pass by or perhaps even run headlong into her ship. Without power for the viewscreens or even the ship’s more active sensors, there was no way to watch the enemy vessel’s approach or to see just how much danger she and her crew currently faced. N’tovek was her only source of information, and she could see even in the control room’s reduced lighting that the strain was beginning to show on his normally passive features.
“We are drifting,” the centurion called out softly, and Sarith’s heart beat harder against the walls of her chest. Given the Klingon cruiser’s movements as it searched for whatever had spooked its commander and the Tholians, there was no way for her to predict whether her vessel’s path would cross that of the warship. Should she order restoration of thruster power to make a course correction? Would that action reveal their presence? She knew she had only moments to make a decision that regardless of the option she chose almost certainly would result in disaster for her ship and its crew.
“Maintain present status,” Sarith ordered, instinct telling her to stay the course. The odds of them drifting into the path of the Klingon ship had to be lower than her vessel being detected due to rash action on her part. She issued the directive with a confidence she only partially felt herself, hoping her reservations had not been understood by anyone else on the bridge. Glancing to Ineti, she was reassured by her mentor’s gentle nod of approval.
Moments that seemed to stretch into infinity passed in silence. Despite the notable drop in temperature as the bridge cooled thanks to the thinner hull plating separating the bridge from the harsh void of space, Sarith felt perspiration moisten her arms and her back. How much longer? Would there be any warning if the Klingon ship detected them, or would her last sight be of her vessel imploding around her as it fell prey to the power of the larger vessel’s weapons?
“They have moved past us,” N’tovek said after Sarith felt she had aged an eternity. Looking to her once more, he seemed almost too afraid to offer the report for fear that it would trigger some act of fateful retribution. “They are continuing their search pattern, but do not appear to have detected us.”
A collective sigh of relief crossed the bridge at the realization that fate apparently had chosen to smile yet again upon the Bloodied Talon. Still, everyone maintained their silence, each of them looking to Sarith for guidance.
“Are we in any danger if we don’t correct our course?” she asked N’tovek.
The centurion shook his head. “Only if the Klingon vessel backtracks along its search pattern, Commander.” Glancing into the viewfinder again, he added, “They are continuing to move away, along what appears to be their original course before the attack. I suspect they may abandon the search in short order.”