Dark is the Night

Deep in Endeavour’s bowels, Kehlan continued working, at the same time waiting for the explosion of outrage at her refusal to attend yet another meeting. Time passed with only silence from the communicators and for no good reason, Kehlan began to feel uneasy. Tightening the final bolt, she slid out from under the console. "Are we almost done yet?"

"I think so, Captain," the chief engineer informed her, "We’ll be ready for active duty in half an hour or so."

"That’s good news," Kehlan congratulated him, "Well done."

Sitting up, she stretched the cramp out of her shoulders and as she did so the feeling of unease increased. Despite all the tests to the contrary, Kehlan was a telepath and she had long since learned to listen to her instincts. Her mate was in trouble. She could feel it. "Computer, where is Admiral Mackenzie?"

“Admiral Mackenzie is in shuttle bay 6, berth 62 alpha."

Kehlan frowned. That was Rapier's berth; there was no reason for him to be there. Getting to her feet, she headed out of engineering at a run, straight for her husband's empty office. If he was going to act the hero, he would need his sword. It took her only moments to arrive at her destination, retrieve the old katana from its place on the wall and call the transporter room. Before she knew it, the familiar environs of the office had faded out to be replaced by the shuttle-bay and the facade of the ex-Starfleet runabout now known as Rapier.

"You’re not coming with me, Kehlan." Mackenzie sounded tired and stressed. He'd had enough arguments about this and didn’t need another one with his wife.

"I know. I thought you might need this." She held the ancient sword out to him.

He approached, reaching for it and she placed it into his hands. About to step back and let him go, she changed her mind. "James..." Standing on tiptoe, she reached up and kissed him hard.



*****



Heading up to the Starbase command levels, Kehlan was unsurprised to find her colleagues already there. They, like every other officer in the room were staring at the viewscreen. Something.... was slicing through space. Plasma and lightning flashed and burned, ripping the fabric of reality apart like so much cotton as clouds of boiling gas churned through the now visible rift, illuminating the… thing… that was coming through it.

Kehlan did not hesitate. Swiftly crossing the Ops room, she brought her hand crashing down on the console, activating the emergency alarm. "RED ALERT!" She spoke in a crisp, calm tone that belied her inner anxiety. "All hands to battle-stations, all ships mobilise... This is not a drill…”

She turned to the security chief, "Krang, you have command of Starbase defences. Khetara, take command of the Klingon fleet. I want that ship destroyed."

Not waiting for an answer, she opened another channel, "Endeavour, beam me direct to the bridge... and get…" Her instructions faded into nothingness as the beam took her and she disappeared from Ops.



*****



N’Sal shook her head as Khetara’s ship opened fire on the enemy vessel. It would do no good.

No weapon could harm the Ship of Death, As she watched, the deadly beam went straight through the alien ship and narrowly missed Endeavour's port nacelle. N'Sal could almost hear Kehlan's curses as her newly repaired starship swerved out of the way.

As the allied ships surrounded the intruder, a runabout broke the circle, flying ever closer to danger, approaching the ghost ship like a moth to a lamp. N’Sal stared at the brightly painted image on the runabout’s side. Every trace of its Starfleet origin had been removed and in its place was a Romulan firebird, its wings raised as it prepared for flight, two 20th century Terran Rapier missiles clutched in its claws. Illuminated by the flickering emergency lighting of the starbase and the phaser beams of the Starships, the feathers on its painted wings ruffled in a non-existent breeze and it seemed to N’Sal that the firebird was coming alive.



*****



Seated at Rapier’s helm, Mackenzie stared intently at the screen as he manipulated the controls, bringing the runabout nose to nose with the ghost ship. There was no point in his opening fire. This was not a battle of physical weapons. The other ships, he saw, had apparently come to the same conclusion; they were no longer firing on the enemy vessel. There was nothing they could do now but wait and bear witness.

Getting to his feet, Mackenzie drew the ancient katana from its sheath, mentally thanking his wife for her thoughtfulness. It was no real use in this fight but he felt better with a blade in his hand. Closing his eyes, he focused on his chosen battlefield. Rapier faded and in his mind another vessel took its place.

Opening his eyes again, he stared around him, nodding in satisfaction at the scene. The deck lurched beneath his feet, wooden boards creaking ominously as waves crashed against the ship, salt spray filling the air. Another glance showed him neatly trimmed sails, the wheel, the carved figurehead - a phoenix, he noted... yes, this would do. This was where he would fight. Hearing heavy footsteps, he turned in readiness. His foe approached.

"So! Here you are!" A figure dressed as a pirate, cutlass in hand, moved towards Mackenzie, his voice low and threatening. "I told you I would return."

Mackenzie stared at the Dutchman, his gaze steady and unconcerned. "And I told you that I would be waiting. These people are under my protection. You will not take them."

The Dutchman gave a harsh laugh, "I have had a long time to prepare for this.... and this time I will prevail." Raising his cutlass, he attacked.