***
When she returned to the bridge, almost twenty minutes later, Priss couldn’t really find any of the wry humor she’d had during the discussion with her exec. The reason for her current dark mood was displayed for all to see on the main viewscreen. Light-years away, still well beyond the Jeff Waynes reach, two of the three raider ships were closing in on the Frozen Summer, just as they’d all expected would happen. Even if they followed the same pattern of behaviour they had before Aunlez had detected the Summers distress signal, no one liked having to watch it happen in front of them. “Time?” she asked as she sat down
“Two minutes until they can link warp fields and open fire,” Thryiss replied, her own expression troubled. “Speaking of warp fields, we’re getting a look at theirs at the moment. Siysye has his people comparing them to known Hirogen ships.”
Nodding, Priss looked at the main viewscreen, expression as level as she could manage it. “That’s something. And if they keep to the pattern they’ve been following since before we even picked up the distress signal, this is just more harassment,” she said, but she could hear the uncertainty in her own voice.
Checking her stations console, the XO scowled. “Times like this, I really wish Starfleet Command had given us the slipstream refits,” she muttered. “Conventional warp drives just aren’t fast enough.”
"All that would happen then is that we'd encounter problems even further away, still just out of reach," Priss replied with a slight shrug and a shake of her head. "It's the way of the galaxy, I suspect."
Antennae twitching, Thryiss considered her captain. "Where did you learn that kind of patience?" she asked, managing a faint smile.
“One of the benefits of the medical track,” she replied. “You learn the hard way that there’s times all you can do is wait and watch.” Even as she spoke, the image on the screen altered, icons shifting, and the warp fields of the pursuing ships wrapped around the Frozen Summers. A heartbeat later, the flare of energy weapons appeared in the space between ships.
“Pirate ships have fired,” Siysye reported, somewhat unnecessarily. “The Frozen Summers shields are holding.” Priss turned towards the man as he studied his stations readouts. After almost ten seconds, he nodded slightly and turned towards her. “Initial analysis complete Captain. Hostile targets weapons show a ninety-eight percent similarity to known Tetryon weapons. Warp fields are extremely similar to known Hirogen designs. Targets Alpha and Beta match records of the Hunter Escort design.”
Nodding, Priss turned back to the main screen. “Thank you Lieutenant,” she said calmly, watching the ships continue to fire on the Frozen Summer. They were taking their time, firing steadily but slowly, letting their victims shields regain their strength. “Continue your analysis. Anything you find, I suspect we’ll be able to make use of.”
Leaning in close, Thryiss kept her voice low. “Don’t take this the wrong way ma’am, but I was hoping you were wrong. Everything I’ve seen says that Hirogen ships tend to be... rather unpleasant.”
“Honestly, I was hoping it was just some pirates as well,” the Orion admitted. “I think we can take them on, but we probably will take a few hard knocks putting them down.” She sighed slightly. “And they sure as hell won’t surrender.”
“Honor code,” the XO said with a sigh of her own.
“Monoculture fanaticism,” Priss shot back, scowling. “Well, at least they’re not that likely to run. A Thunderchild like the Jeff Wayne should get them nice and eager for an exciting hunt.” The smile she gave her XO was hardly what one would call pleasant. “They’ll be expecting the firepower, but if we’re smart, we should still be able to give the bastards a good kick in the teeth.” The Andorian met her smile with one of her own, her tactical training and experience already thinking of ideas, when the sound of the turbolift caught their attention. Looking up from their private conversation, they saw Lieutenant Smith step onto the bridge and walk towards them. “How goes the study of Hirogen tactics?” the Captain enquired.
Waving a hand in what both women had come to recognize as his demonstration of an annoyed grimace, the man stopped a respectful distance from the Captains chair. “Productive, but worrying,” he admitted. “They won’t be trying to outright kill us, but they’ll have the ships to manage some effective flanking maneuvers. Those Tetyron weapons they’re so fond of are going to be hell on the shields, but it’s their usual choice in Torpedoes I’m really worried about.”
“Transphasic,” Priss replied, remembering her own studies. Brute force weapons that mostly relied on sheer kinetic force, they got their name from their ability to penetrate energy fields with ease, leaving the target within exposed. She glanced at the main viewscreen, considering the fact that the Hirogen ships seemed to be sticking entirely to their beam weapons for the moment. A limited supply of torpedoes perhaps, or were they simply prolonging the Frozen Summers misery?
“Yes ma’am,” Smith confirmed, pulling her attention back to him. “They tend to try and get into position to target warp nacelles and engines. Cripple their targets main power and maneuverability, then wear it down with high speed hit and run attacks. Each ship in a pack tends to have a pretty defined role though. If we can break their formation, force them to split up, even for a minute or two, I think we might be able to counter that effectively.”
Leaning back in her chair, Thryiss considered that for a moment. “Heavy assault on the frigate? Smallest ship in the pack, after all.”
“But built with a lot more armor and shielding than you’d expect in something that size,” Smith disagreed. “And because it’s the smallest, the Hirogen probably won’t give much of a damn about it. They’ve got this ‘only the strongest hunters thrive’ attitude,” he pointed out with another wave of his hand.
“One of the Escorts then,” Priss mused. “Burn its shields, tear into the armor. At the very least, we should be able to surprise it on our initial pass-” she paused as the situation on the main viewscreen shifted and Siysye made an alarmed noise. “Lieutenant?”
“It’s the Summers shields Captain,” he replied. “The Hirogen aren’t burning through them deliberately, I think it’s just that the AMC went for cheap generators that weren’t designed for a long-term chase like this one.”
Looking at the viewscreen, Priss saw the Frozen Summers icon shift as its shield began to fail. “How long can it last?”
The sensor officer growled under his breath. “Two minutes, and that’s if the Hunters stop firing-” An alarm beeped, and his next growl was much louder, almost a snarl. “They’ve fired torpedoes!” he reported, two icons appearing on the viewscreen. “Type unknown, ten seconds to impact.”
Priss bit her lip, watching the torpedoes race in. The demonstration of the typical Hirogen mindset was almost infuriating. The moment their victim showed the slightest sign of weakness, they moved in for the kill, and there was nothing the Jeff Wayne could do to stop it. Her earlier comment to her XO about patience came to mind again, and she resisted the urge to punch her chair arm in frustration.
Icons changed on the viewscreen as the torpedoes reached their target, barely slowing as they passed through the Summers shields and slammed into the ships warp nacelles. Instantly, the ships warp field collapsed and the freighter dropped back to sublight speeds, accidentally avoiding the next salvo of Tetyron beams as the Hirogen overshot them. Priss watched the trio of ships drop of out of warp to come about and micro-jump back to the Frozen Summer, then turned her attention towards Navigation. “New time to intercept?” she asked.
“One hundred-fifteen minutes,” came the reply, and the Captain didn’t quite suppress a wince. It was almost as long as when they’d originally contacted the Frozen Summer, and made it painfully clear that there was nothing they could do. Even if the Hirogen didn’t try and run once they were done with their victims, it seemed that the best that the Jeff Wayne could hope for now was to avenge them.
“Now what do we do?” Thryiss said quietly, her own desperation leaking into her voice.
Biting her lip for a moment, Priss considered everything she knew about the Hirogen, then shook her head slightly. “I don’t,” she began, then paused, eyes narrowing. She watched the main viewscreen for a moment, eyes on the Hirogen ships as they reached the Frozen Summer and spread out to surround it. “A monoculture built around the honor of the hunt and personal fame and glory,” she said quietly, then rose from her chair. “Lieutenant Moral, I want you to translate into Hirogen and broadcast on every frequency we can manage. I want them to hear this,” she ordered. “And I want them to know anyone else listening can hear it.”
Turning back to her console, the communications officer entered commands, even as Thryiss leaned forward. “What are you planning Captain?” she asked, curious despite the situation.
“Applying a variant of Klingon diplomacy,” Priss replied, managing a faint smirk before glancing at Aunlez. The Trill turned towards her and nodded, and the Captains expression hardened. “This is Captain Priss Hanagawa of the USS Jeff Wayne to the scavenger ships currently trying, oh so bravely, to overcome an unarmed freighter through sheer numbers,” she announced, voice almost dripping with contempt. “Our scans confirm that your ships are of Hirogen origin, which means I’d rather like to know where you stole them from.”
Silence swept across the bridge as the crew tried not to turn to stare at their Captain in surprise. Thryiss, for her part, merely worked to keep a wide grin off her face. Klingon Diplomacy indeed. “The Hirogen are said to be the galaxies greatest hunters,” Priss continued. “Stories about their courage, bravery and skill have spread to the distant corners of the galaxy. Given that the three of you are having trouble catching up to and capturing a single, unarmed freighter, I suspect you must be someone else. Scavengers that waited until the ships owners were away on business perhaps, then stole them while no one was looking?”
Morals console beeped at her, and the Trill officer quickly accepted the incoming transmission and redirected it to the main screen. The tactical image moved to one side as the face of what was easily recognizable as a Hirogen appeared, a face ridged and mottled skin, with the curved, spiked helmet around it. "We are the Hunters," it growled, showing sharp, pointed teeth. "You are Prey, nothing more. Remember your pla-"
"That's nice imagery," the Starfleet captain interrupted, seemingly ignoring the Hirogens words. "You've put a lot of work into looking like a Hirogen. The armor, the skin tones and patterns, even the emphasis on the Hunter and Prey. But like I said, your actions make it clear what you really are. Nothing more than cowardly scavengers," she said with an amused smirk. Out of the corner of her eye, she checked the tactical view, watching as the Hirogen ships, responding to this new development, actually paused in their attack, listening to their Alpha and watching as his face twisted in the patterns that tended to be used for burning rage in almost every humanoid race known.
“I am Kran, the Alpha of this Pack,” the Hirogen snarled. “I have led the Hunt against Prey you could not even hope to imagine-”
Interrupting a second time, Priss simply talked right over him. “You can’t even take on an unarmed freighter alone,” she said dismissively. “You chased them for a few hours, then actually got serious about taking them down after we came after you. Let me guess, you’re planning on trying to run fast enough we lose sight of you.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Now I really hope you’re not Hirogen. I was looking forward to a decent fight when I met them."
On the screen, Krans face darkened with even greater rage. “You arrogant little Federation fool!” he roared. “You insult the honor of my Pack, of me, and then you claim that you would-”
“Take you down? Absolutely,” the Starfleet captain smirked. “You claim to be Hirogen, to be the True Hunters. Your ‘Prey’ is someone that can’t even fight back.” Her smirk shifted into something darker, more primal. “My Prey has been... Spectacular. I have faced Klingons and Gorn, both in space and on the ground, with guns and blades and bare hands. I was victorious. I have fought the Crystaline Entity, the Undine, even the Borg, and won. I have fought creatures from beyond this dimension and prevailed.” She stepped closer to the viewscreen, looking into Krans eyes as they widened, sensing the truth of her words. “The Hirogen should be another great battle, another true Hunt, a worthy trophy. But you-”
“WE ARE HIROGEN!” The bellow actually caused some distortion in the speakers, and Priss managed to keep her face in the challenging expression she needed for this moment.
“Then prove it. You want a challenge, a true Hunt? I’m right here. Bring your pack, bring your Hunters. Prove you’re not just a pack of scavengers.” She smirked again. “Whichever of us has air pressure when we’re done gets a trophy worth telling stories about.”
For twenty long, silent seconds, Kran didn’t answer, his glare meeting her eyes, body tense as if he was to try and lunge through the monitor at her. Captain Hanagawa simply returned his glare with a confident smirk, waiting. Eventually though, the man growled, the glare fading ever so slightly. “Should you prove to be unworthy prey, I will make your death slow and painful,” he warned her, before ending the communication.
Resisting the urge to make a sarcastic comment about how she was suddenly motivated to fight, Priss turned her full attention to the tactical display. As she and her entire bridge crew watched, the Hirogen ships altered course, breaking away from the Frozen Summer and accelerating back into warp. “Lieutenant Siysye, speed and time to intercept?” she asked, voice now much more serious than what she’d shown Kran.
“They’re moving at warp nine point nine five... our vectors will intercept in twenty three minutes,” the sensor officer reported, and Priss nodded.
“All right then,” the Captain said thoughtfully, looking around her bridge. “Moral, see if you can contact the Summer, I want an update on their status. Commander,” she continued, turning to Thryiss, “I want all stations ready to go to red alert at least five minutes before intercept.”
She gave off several more orders, the crew quickly recovering from the show their captain had just given and moving to obey. Even as she checked the internal security situation, the Exec studied her Captain, who had returned to her chair and was studying the main viewscreen with a frown. Ending her call to the security chief, she leaned forward, pitching her voice low enough to go unheard by the crew. “Well, that was certainly an unconventional solution,” she mused.
Frown briefly shifting to a scowl, the smaller woman shook her head. “Not really a good one,” she admitted. “Lure in a squadron full of fanatical murderers by telling them they’re cowards going after an easy kill, so come and try us?” Sighing, Priss ran a hand through her hair. “Desperation move.”
“Yeah, I can see that coming back to haunt us,” Thryiss agreed. “And then there’s Admiral T’Nae. She’ll have something to say on the matter, no doubt.” Priss barely held back a snort at that comment. The Andorians voice was so deliberately level that it was hilarious. “Honestly ma’am, it was either getting the Hirogen angry with the truth, or letting them kill the Summer’s crew. Not exactly a difficult choice. Plus, you seem to be very talented at Klingon Diplomacy.”
Nodding slightly, Priss conceded the point. “Thank you Exec,” she said with a slight smile, then glanced over at Moral as the Trill turned towards her and nodded. “Now to see if Captain Shral can take advantage of my negotiating style,” she added dryly.
***
When she returned to the bridge, almost twenty minutes later, Priss couldn’t really find any of the wry humor she’d had during the discussion with her exec. The reason for her current dark mood was displayed for all to see on the main viewscreen. Light-years away, still well beyond the Jeff Waynes reach, two of the three raider ships were closing in on the Frozen Summer, just as they’d all expected would happen. Even if they followed the same pattern of behaviour they had before Aunlez had detected the Summers distress signal, no one liked having to watch it happen in front of them. “Time?” she asked as she sat down
“Two minutes until they can link warp fields and open fire,” Thryiss replied, her own expression troubled. “Speaking of warp fields, we’re getting a look at theirs at the moment. Siysye has his people comparing them to known Hirogen ships.”
Nodding, Priss looked at the main viewscreen, expression as level as she could manage it. “That’s something. And if they keep to the pattern they’ve been following since before we even picked up the distress signal, this is just more harassment,” she said, but she could hear the uncertainty in her own voice.
Checking her stations console, the XO scowled. “Times like this, I really wish Starfleet Command had given us the slipstream refits,” she muttered. “Conventional warp drives just aren’t fast enough.”
"All that would happen then is that we'd encounter problems even further away, still just out of reach," Priss replied with a slight shrug and a shake of her head. "It's the way of the galaxy, I suspect."
Antennae twitching, Thryiss considered her captain. "Where did you learn that kind of patience?" she asked, managing a faint smile.
“One of the benefits of the medical track,” she replied. “You learn the hard way that there’s times all you can do is wait and watch.” Even as she spoke, the image on the screen altered, icons shifting, and the warp fields of the pursuing ships wrapped around the Frozen Summers. A heartbeat later, the flare of energy weapons appeared in the space between ships.
“Pirate ships have fired,” Siysye reported, somewhat unnecessarily. “The Frozen Summers shields are holding.” Priss turned towards the man as he studied his stations readouts. After almost ten seconds, he nodded slightly and turned towards her. “Initial analysis complete Captain. Hostile targets weapons show a ninety-eight percent similarity to known Tetryon weapons. Warp fields are extremely similar to known Hirogen designs. Targets Alpha and Beta match records of the Hunter Escort design.”
Nodding, Priss turned back to the main screen. “Thank you Lieutenant,” she said calmly, watching the ships continue to fire on the Frozen Summer. They were taking their time, firing steadily but slowly, letting their victims shields regain their strength. “Continue your analysis. Anything you find, I suspect we’ll be able to make use of.”
Leaning in close, Thryiss kept her voice low. “Don’t take this the wrong way ma’am, but I was hoping you were wrong. Everything I’ve seen says that Hirogen ships tend to be... rather unpleasant.”
“Honestly, I was hoping it was just some pirates as well,” the Orion admitted. “I think we can take them on, but we probably will take a few hard knocks putting them down.” She sighed slightly. “And they sure as hell won’t surrender.”
“Honor code,” the XO said with a sigh of her own.
“Monoculture fanaticism,” Priss shot back, scowling. “Well, at least they’re not that likely to run. A Thunderchild like the Jeff Wayne should get them nice and eager for an exciting hunt.” The smile she gave her XO was hardly what one would call pleasant. “They’ll be expecting the firepower, but if we’re smart, we should still be able to give the bastards a good kick in the teeth.” The Andorian met her smile with one of her own, her tactical training and experience already thinking of ideas, when the sound of the turbolift caught their attention. Looking up from their private conversation, they saw Lieutenant Smith step onto the bridge and walk towards them. “How goes the study of Hirogen tactics?” the Captain enquired.
Waving a hand in what both women had come to recognize as his demonstration of an annoyed grimace, the man stopped a respectful distance from the Captains chair. “Productive, but worrying,” he admitted. “They won’t be trying to outright kill us, but they’ll have the ships to manage some effective flanking maneuvers. Those Tetyron weapons they’re so fond of are going to be hell on the shields, but it’s their usual choice in Torpedoes I’m really worried about.”
“Transphasic,” Priss replied, remembering her own studies. Brute force weapons that mostly relied on sheer kinetic force, they got their name from their ability to penetrate energy fields with ease, leaving the target within exposed. She glanced at the main viewscreen, considering the fact that the Hirogen ships seemed to be sticking entirely to their beam weapons for the moment. A limited supply of torpedoes perhaps, or were they simply prolonging the Frozen Summers misery?
“Yes ma’am,” Smith confirmed, pulling her attention back to him. “They tend to try and get into position to target warp nacelles and engines. Cripple their targets main power and maneuverability, then wear it down with high speed hit and run attacks. Each ship in a pack tends to have a pretty defined role though. If we can break their formation, force them to split up, even for a minute or two, I think we might be able to counter that effectively.”
Leaning back in her chair, Thryiss considered that for a moment. “Heavy assault on the frigate? Smallest ship in the pack, after all.”
“But built with a lot more armor and shielding than you’d expect in something that size,” Smith disagreed. “And because it’s the smallest, the Hirogen probably won’t give much of a damn about it. They’ve got this ‘only the strongest hunters thrive’ attitude,” he pointed out with another wave of his hand.
“One of the Escorts then,” Priss mused. “Burn its shields, tear into the armor. At the very least, we should be able to surprise it on our initial pass-” she paused as the situation on the main viewscreen shifted and Siysye made an alarmed noise. “Lieutenant?”
“It’s the Summers shields Captain,” he replied. “The Hirogen aren’t burning through them deliberately, I think it’s just that the AMC went for cheap generators that weren’t designed for a long-term chase like this one.”
Looking at the viewscreen, Priss saw the Frozen Summers icon shift as its shield began to fail. “How long can it last?”
The sensor officer growled under his breath. “Two minutes, and that’s if the Hunters stop firing-” An alarm beeped, and his next growl was much louder, almost a snarl. “They’ve fired torpedoes!” he reported, two icons appearing on the viewscreen. “Type unknown, ten seconds to impact.”
Priss bit her lip, watching the torpedoes race in. The demonstration of the typical Hirogen mindset was almost infuriating. The moment their victim showed the slightest sign of weakness, they moved in for the kill, and there was nothing the Jeff Wayne could do to stop it. Her earlier comment to her XO about patience came to mind again, and she resisted the urge to punch her chair arm in frustration.
Icons changed on the viewscreen as the torpedoes reached their target, barely slowing as they passed through the Summers shields and slammed into the ships warp nacelles. Instantly, the ships warp field collapsed and the freighter dropped back to sublight speeds, accidentally avoiding the next salvo of Tetyron beams as the Hirogen overshot them. Priss watched the trio of ships drop of out of warp to come about and micro-jump back to the Frozen Summer, then turned her attention towards Navigation. “New time to intercept?” she asked.
“One hundred-fifteen minutes,” came the reply, and the Captain didn’t quite suppress a wince. It was almost as long as when they’d originally contacted the Frozen Summer, and made it painfully clear that there was nothing they could do. Even if the Hirogen didn’t try and run once they were done with their victims, it seemed that the best that the Jeff Wayne could hope for now was to avenge them.
“Now what do we do?” Thryiss said quietly, her own desperation leaking into her voice.
Biting her lip for a moment, Priss considered everything she knew about the Hirogen, then shook her head slightly. “I don’t,” she began, then paused, eyes narrowing. She watched the main viewscreen for a moment, eyes on the Hirogen ships as they reached the Frozen Summer and spread out to surround it. “A monoculture built around the honor of the hunt and personal fame and glory,” she said quietly, then rose from her chair. “Lieutenant Moral, I want you to translate into Hirogen and broadcast on every frequency we can manage. I want them to hear this,” she ordered. “And I want them to know anyone else listening can hear it.”
Turning back to her console, the communications officer entered commands, even as Thryiss leaned forward. “What are you planning Captain?” she asked, curious despite the situation.
“Applying a variant of Klingon diplomacy,” Priss replied, managing a faint smirk before glancing at Aunlez. The Trill turned towards her and nodded, and the Captains expression hardened. “This is Captain Priss Hanagawa of the USS Jeff Wayne to the scavenger ships currently trying, oh so bravely, to overcome an unarmed freighter through sheer numbers,” she announced, voice almost dripping with contempt. “Our scans confirm that your ships are of Hirogen origin, which means I’d rather like to know where you stole them from.”
Silence swept across the bridge as the crew tried not to turn to stare at their Captain in surprise. Thryiss, for her part, merely worked to keep a wide grin off her face. Klingon Diplomacy indeed. “The Hirogen are said to be the galaxies greatest hunters,” Priss continued. “Stories about their courage, bravery and skill have spread to the distant corners of the galaxy. Given that the three of you are having trouble catching up to and capturing a single, unarmed freighter, I suspect you must be someone else. Scavengers that waited until the ships owners were away on business perhaps, then stole them while no one was looking?”
Morals console beeped at her, and the Trill officer quickly accepted the incoming transmission and redirected it to the main screen. The tactical image moved to one side as the face of what was easily recognizable as a Hirogen appeared, a face ridged and mottled skin, with the curved, spiked helmet around it. "We are the Hunters," it growled, showing sharp, pointed teeth. "You are Prey, nothing more. Remember your pla-"
"That's nice imagery," the Starfleet captain interrupted, seemingly ignoring the Hirogens words. "You've put a lot of work into looking like a Hirogen. The armor, the skin tones and patterns, even the emphasis on the Hunter and Prey. But like I said, your actions make it clear what you really are. Nothing more than cowardly scavengers," she said with an amused smirk. Out of the corner of her eye, she checked the tactical view, watching as the Hirogen ships, responding to this new development, actually paused in their attack, listening to their Alpha and watching as his face twisted in the patterns that tended to be used for burning rage in almost every humanoid race known.
“I am Kran, the Alpha of this Pack,” the Hirogen snarled. “I have led the Hunt against Prey you could not even hope to imagine-”
Interrupting a second time, Priss simply talked right over him. “You can’t even take on an unarmed freighter alone,” she said dismissively. “You chased them for a few hours, then actually got serious about taking them down after we came after you. Let me guess, you’re planning on trying to run fast enough we lose sight of you.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Now I really hope you’re not Hirogen. I was looking forward to a decent fight when I met them."
On the screen, Krans face darkened with even greater rage. “You arrogant little Federation fool!” he roared. “You insult the honor of my Pack, of me, and then you claim that you would-”
“Take you down? Absolutely,” the Starfleet captain smirked. “You claim to be Hirogen, to be the True Hunters. Your ‘Prey’ is someone that can’t even fight back.” Her smirk shifted into something darker, more primal. “My Prey has been... Spectacular. I have faced Klingons and Gorn, both in space and on the ground, with guns and blades and bare hands. I was victorious. I have fought the Crystaline Entity, the Undine, even the Borg, and won. I have fought creatures from beyond this dimension and prevailed.” She stepped closer to the viewscreen, looking into Krans eyes as they widened, sensing the truth of her words. “The Hirogen should be another great battle, another true Hunt, a worthy trophy. But you-”
“WE ARE HIROGEN!” The bellow actually caused some distortion in the speakers, and Priss managed to keep her face in the challenging expression she needed for this moment.
“Then prove it. You want a challenge, a true Hunt? I’m right here. Bring your pack, bring your Hunters. Prove you’re not just a pack of scavengers.” She smirked again. “Whichever of us has air pressure when we’re done gets a trophy worth telling stories about.”
For twenty long, silent seconds, Kran didn’t answer, his glare meeting her eyes, body tense as if he was to try and lunge through the monitor at her. Captain Hanagawa simply returned his glare with a confident smirk, waiting. Eventually though, the man growled, the glare fading ever so slightly. “Should you prove to be unworthy prey, I will make your death slow and painful,” he warned her, before ending the communication.
Resisting the urge to make a sarcastic comment about how she was suddenly motivated to fight, Priss turned her full attention to the tactical display. As she and her entire bridge crew watched, the Hirogen ships altered course, breaking away from the Frozen Summer and accelerating back into warp. “Lieutenant Siysye, speed and time to intercept?” she asked, voice now much more serious than what she’d shown Kran.
“They’re moving at warp nine point nine five... our vectors will intercept in twenty three minutes,” the sensor officer reported, and Priss nodded.
“All right then,” the Captain said thoughtfully, looking around her bridge. “Moral, see if you can contact the Summer, I want an update on their status. Commander,” she continued, turning to Thryiss, “I want all stations ready to go to red alert at least five minutes before intercept.”
She gave off several more orders, the crew quickly recovering from the show their captain had just given and moving to obey. Even as she checked the internal security situation, the Exec studied her Captain, who had returned to her chair and was studying the main viewscreen with a frown. Ending her call to the security chief, she leaned forward, pitching her voice low enough to go unheard by the crew. “Well, that was certainly an unconventional solution,” she mused.
Frown briefly shifting to a scowl, the smaller woman shook her head. “Not really a good one,” she admitted. “Lure in a squadron full of fanatical murderers by telling them they’re cowards going after an easy kill, so come and try us?” Sighing, Priss ran a hand through her hair. “Desperation move.”
“Yeah, I can see that coming back to haunt us,” Thryiss agreed. “And then there’s Admiral T’Nae. She’ll have something to say on the matter, no doubt.” Priss barely held back a snort at that comment. The Andorians voice was so deliberately level that it was hilarious. “Honestly ma’am, it was either getting the Hirogen angry with the truth, or letting them kill the Summer’s crew. Not exactly a difficult choice. Plus, you seem to be very talented at Klingon Diplomacy.”
Nodding slightly, Priss conceded the point. “Thank you Exec,” she said with a slight smile, then glanced over at Moral as the Trill turned towards her and nodded. “Now to see if Captain Shral can take advantage of my negotiating style,” she added dryly.
***