25

Khatami watched the northern hemisphere of Nereus II fill the Endeavour’s main viewscreen as McCormack announced the ship’s updated status. “Standard orbit achieved, Captain. The Voh’tahk is keeping its distance on the far side of the planet.”

“Very good, Lieutenant. Let me know if the Klingons make any sudden moves.”

The navigator kept her eyes on the helm console. “Aye, sir.”

Estrada checked in next. “Sir? Captain Terrell says his landing party is safely back aboard the Sagittarius. They’re standing by to receive our medical and engineering teams.”

“Glad to hear it.” She glanced over her right shoulder at Stano. “Commander? Is our landing party ready to beam down?”

“Aye, sir. I’ve put Commander Yataro in charge of the team.”

Selecting personnel for landing parties was the first officer’s responsibility, but as the ship’s commanding officer, Khatami reserved the prerogative to overrule the XO’s choices. In practice, she was reluctant to do so. Second-­guessing Stano might undermine her ability to do her job, which could lead to a breakdown of the chain of command. Regardless, Khatami harbored misgivings about letting the Endeavour’s new chief engineer lead a landing party into a tense crisis situation. It wasn’t that he was a poor officer; he simply hadn’t been tested yet—at least, not on her watch. “Belay that. Mister Klisiewicz, I want you to lead the landing party.”

Klisiewicz traded a concerned glance with Stano before he replied. “Captain, I’m sure Commander Yataro is capable of leading a repair-and-rescue op.”

“No doubt. But I want a command officer on the ground, just in case.”

“Sir, I’m a science officer.”

“You’re also my third-in-command, which means you outrank Yataro on this ship.” She swiveled her chair and quashed any further discussion with a pointed look. “Grab your gear and report to Transporter Room One, on the double. That’s an order.”

“Aye, sir.” He nodded and walked toward the turbolift.

As Klisiewicz stepped inside the turbolift, Stano descended the stairs into the command well and stood beside Khatami’s chair. Her voice was low and grave. “Captain, I—”

“Not now, Commander.” Stano accepted the rebuff and returned to the sensor console on the upper deck of the bridge. Their truncated conversation cast a pall of tension over the bridge.

Estrada dispelled the air of disquiet with an excited declaration. “Captain, we’re receiving an audio message from the planet’s surface. It’s a broad-spectrum transmission, but the signal appears to be coming from a Klingon communicator.”

“Who’s hailing us?”

The communications officer listened for a moment while adjusting the switches on his console. “Actually, sir, I don’t think we’re being hailed directly. The message isn’t addressed to any specific person or vessel, and”—he fiddled with a few more switches and frowned—“well, I’m sorry, but this I can’t explain. According to the universal translator, the person sending the message is directing it to ‘the sky-ships above us.’ I’ve checked the translation three times, sir. It says ‘sky-ships’ instead of starships.”

Khatami feared the situation on the planet had just taken a turn for the worse—and that she was about to send her landing party into the thick of it. “Are the Klingons hearing this?”

He looked at his screens. “Yes, sir. They’re receiving it now.”

“I want to hear it, from the beginning. Put it on speakers.” She sat back and waited while Estrada queued up the incoming message for playback.

A feminine voice wafted down from the overhead speakers. “This message is for the people on the sky-ships above us. I don’t know where you’ve come from, what you want, or why you’ve involved us in whatever fight you seem to be waging. But know this: You are not welcome on Arethusa, either of you. My name is Nimur, and I rule this world. Tell your people, and anyone else who might be foolish enough to come here: If you trespass on our soil again, you will do so at your own peril. Because as of now, Arethusa, and every living thing that dwells upon it—including your stranded comrades—are now mine. This will be your only warning.”

The transmission stopped, and a shocked silence settled over the Endeavour’s bridge. Khatami looked over her shoulder at Estrada. “Anything else?”

He shook his head. “No, sir. That’s the whole message.”

Stano grimaced. “I bet the Klingons are gonna love that.”

McCormack let out a cynical harrumph. “I’m surprised they aren’t glassing the planet.”

“Give them time,” Neelakanta deadpanned.

Khatami stood and strode forward, doing her best to project confidence and authority. “Lieutenant McCormack, keep our shields at maximum, and arm all weapons.”

McCormack entered the commands as she asked in a shaky voice, “Am I targeting the planet or the Klingons?”

Neelakanta muttered with dry gallows humor, “With our luck? Both.”

Khatami cursed her luck with a grim sigh. So begins another glorious day in Starfleet.