“Ohh, she’s going to get into so much trouble, I can tell,” said Buran, her avatar pacing up and down the bridge.

“Buran, calm down. It’s a garden world. What trouble can she get into? What could she possibly do? It’ll be a lovely, quiet little trip, they’ll pick some flowers, catch some bugs, eat too much replicated candy, stay up late scaring each other with ghost stories and come back exhausted and happy in a day or two. You’ll see. Now calm down, that’s an order!” Captain Jules Montgomery chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “I never thought I’d see a starship be a runabout parent.”

Buran stiffened and took a deep breath, more aware than ever that the other officers on the bridge were looking at her. “Sorry, sir, it’s just… I mean I know she’s still here and can’t really get into trouble, but… I grew up… my first incarnation grew up human, and he… was a human and I… am still a human. Somewhere inside. And I’m worried. Because she’s out there. Without me.”

“That’s perfectly alright, Buran. Is this… whatever this is, is it going to cause trouble running the ship?”

“No, no sir it won’t. I’m just… indulging in some rather atavistic behavior because I don’t have anything pressing to do and if I don’t do it at all I’ll really begin to worry because that way nobody will be around to stop me. Sir.”

Jules Montgomery watched the avatar of the USS Buran worry about her child, then pressed a few buttons on his arm-console.

“Captain Montgomery to the Ch’Tang.”

The main viewer flickered for a moment, and a female klingon appeared onscreen. “Ch’Tang here, what is wrong, Captain?”

Jules looked over at his now wide-eyed ship, and then back to the screen. “We’ve picked up some… strange transmissions from the garden world that the kids are headed to be camped out on. Do you think you could spare the fuel to do a little recon? I know it’s boring grunt work not becoming of your mighty warriors, but the truth is, we need your strength, Ch’Tang. We are unable to protect our most vulnerable, and need your honorable selves to keep safe that which is most dear to us.”

The avatar of the Ch’Tang rolled her eyes. “I suppose, if my Captain agrees, that we could divert to this… Monus III for some exploratory survey missions.”

“You mean shore leave for my men? Tell me, is there good hunting on this Monus III?” The bird-of-prey’s captain leaned forwards. He was in an unusually good mood. Probably because he could smell trouble his crew could get into.

“No, but on Monus IV there is,” Ch’Tang’s avatar replied.

“Well then! Shore leave for my men instead of babysitting these weaklings! Good! Instead of doing nothing, we will show this Monus IV what Klingons are made of! And whilst we are at it, I suppose we can shepherd your little lost… lambs, is it, home? This is what wolves are for, yes?”

Jules grinned, and nodded. “You’re really saving our bacon, Captain Ortuk of House Gakar. We just don’t have the capabilities you and your men do. We will drink blood wine upon your return! And you must tell us of your hunt!”

“That we will, my puny Federation friend, mayhaps one day we will get your blood up enough to join in like a true warrior! Ch’Tang out!”

Jules waited a few moments, before turning to Buran. “Happy?”

“That you sent Klingons after my little girl?” She sniffed. “I suppose I am.” She slumped. “Thank you, Captain.”

Buran watched the Ch’Tang cloak herself and head off after the shuttle, just wishing she could’ve had some advanced warning and sent a core with them.

Would that have been too much? Yeah, that probably would have been too much. After all, what kind of trouble could Chance get into really?

***

Razzan turned, leveling his disruptor arm at Ch’Tang. This was what Ghorqan had been waiting for. He wriggled out of Razzan’s grip, turned, grabbed the Orion pirate’s arm and bit almost clean through to the bone. Then Ghorqan unsheathed his dagger and stabbed the man right in the stomach, twisting the blade.

The Orion pirate roared in pain as he fell to his knees, twisted, and fired his disruptor at the fleeing klingon.

I was already moving, but there was only so much I could do. I threw myself at my friend, turning the pair of us just enough so that the first blast caught me on my back, whilst the second seared through my and Ghorqan’s arm.

Ghorqan screamed, clutching his bleeding arm, and leaped at the pirate, yanking out and then plunging his dagger back again into Razzan’s chest. Razzan gasped, and then went still. There was a sudden moment of silence, which I happily stepped into.

“Hello Auntie Ch’Tang,” I said, smiling widely, despite falling to my knees. I dragged myself over to Ghorqan as Klingon transporter beams brought in more and more klingons, and finally one big beast of a mobility platform. It had blades sticking out of its back like deadly bristles. Its claws were daggers, its teeth were knives, it had two blade-tipped tentacles on each side of its body and it looked armored enough to take on a gunship all by itself. Ch’Tangs monstrous targ mech. It was beautiful. “So nice to see you again. How about some music to accompany your work? Computer,” I said, not actually needing to address the computer since both I and Auntie had almost complete control over the entire sorry thing by now, “play us some Klingon Scream Depression Core. Set lighting to strobe in half second bursts, volume to maximum. Override safeties. Execute.”

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

All hell broke loose as the pirates started firing into the hangar bay, the klingons started firing back, and the children and slaves all screamed and ran for cover in the shuttle. I threw myself at Ghorqan to protect him as a barrage of meatier-than-disruptor blasts slammed into us whilst Ch’Tang started picking off the pirates.

My optical sensors were fried in seconds, and most of my body was burning, in pieces, melted or all three. I slumped to the ground, giving Ghorqan the shove I knew he needed to head towards the shuttle.

“Go!” I told him, as loudly as I could over the thump-thump-thump of drums that began to drown out all other noise. The lights began to flash and the three klingon voices on the track began to scream as extremely loud music started to play.

"batlhDaq pagh! HIq vItlhutlh! nuq 'oH nargh! nargh! Nargh!"

Everything was happening at once. The kids and the slaves — the latter with some encouragement — were screaming and running for the shuttle, most of them already inside, though it was a press. I extended my shields as much as I could, pulsing them in odd configurations to get the kids protected safely behind them from weapons fire, funneling all the kids and others inside through walls only visible through the flaring from impacts.

"Segh vIghro'! nIbDaj vItlhutlh! Geh'tor jatlh! jatlh! jatlh!"

“Chance! Get in!” shouted Mister Jensen.

"tlhIngan maH! paghvaD nItebHa'luuuuuuuuuu'!"

“Don’t worry about me, sir! I keep telling you!” I slumped down to the ground, running what self-repair routines I could to try to get my human avatar running again regardless. I liked this dress, damn it all. “I’m not even in here! Now go! Prepare for lift off! Lift off!”

I gunned my engines as hard as I could, shooting out of the bay with shields and weapons both hot. Immediately I had to dodge wreckage as I saw a klingon bird-of-prey using some of the remaining enemy ships as target practice. I spun and rolled, reacting faster than any organic had any hope of matching.

“USS Shuttle Jubilance requesting medical assistance! Transmitting shield codes for emergency medical transport of one juvenile klingon warrior, male, plus a few other minor injuries. Nothing fatal.”

“We are receiving your matter stream, Shuttle Jubilance. A juvenile warrior? We have him now…”

“He killed an Orion pirate king in single combat! And if you do not heal him I will personally find every single one of you and rip your throats out and beat you to death with the wet ends, am I clear?”

“Understood, Jubilance! This little warrior is in need of little more than some blood wine. He will live to tell this tale for many years yet.”

I turned my attention back to the fight inside.

“I’m going to need this, Auntie,” I said, from the targ’s mouth. “I’ve still got to get my last core out.”

“You are welcome to it, Niece. Qapla’!”

***

“Ahh, Ch’Tang, to think I thought this detail would be boring!” Ortuk thumped his fist on his knee in delight. “Tell me, Healer Sazaq, how is our young hero?”

“He will bear a mighty scar from his first blood, my captain!” answer Sazaq over the comms. “His blade has the first of many notches.”

“That is good! In years past, being sent on such an errand, after Federation younglings… hah! I would have spit in my own face before accepting such a menial task, but… ah, the wisdom of qeylIS is as deep as the ocean. I am not sure if it is shame or pride I feel at being known as attack dogs for the Federation weaklings.”

“My Captain?” Ch’Tang answered, worry furrowing her brow.

Ortuk laughed. “You see, many of us see the humans’ dogs as we see our targs. Beasts good for eating, fighting and guarding. Animals, beneath us. But humans… they do not think like this. Their dogs remember when they were wolves, and many still are beasts so dangerous they keep them chained up. Beasts that they need because their own skin is so thin, their own teeth so weak. They need us, my Ship. I am no dog, I am a wolf! And if I am a wolf, then they are my flock. I protect them because that is my place, a warrior against the dark. I am content, Ship, being such a beast. I go where I will, roam how I shall, kill what deserves it, and they will sing my praises. Is that not the best of all things? Haha! I have made their petty attempts at a chain into my world, and my world is the galaxy, and they fall at my feet, begging for my help to keep it.”

Ch’Tang smiled. “There are those among us who would cut out your heart for speaking thus.”

“Yes, yes, I know, Ship, and they are welcome to try, but my men are strong, powerful, loved, celebrated, honorable! The only alternative would be to war with the Federation yet again, as we crush the flock beneath us, and they either fall to us as our client worlds did, or crush us in return. For all they are puny, they are… capable. Only dishonor could lead to victory, and such dishonor is no victory at all.”

There was silence for a few minutes as the captain sat back, watching the viewscreen, letting his words sink in to the officers on his bridge. Maybe he would be challenged, and have to kill another promising youngster, maybe not, but he was, truly, happy. What an odd feeling! He was getting old, but it would be many years yet before he made his trip to Sto-vo-kor.

“Your… niece? How is she faring onboard?” Ortuk flicked his fingers at the main screen.

“She needs to have her head, my captain. I have taken our men out in favor of running a betting pool and drinking celebration.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, how quickly she ends the threat, total damage assessment of the ship, there are many pots yet to be had, Captain.”

“Ah, to the hells with it! I shall throw down some of my pay! A proper celebration! I will bet she destroys the ship in her vengeance! Qapla’!”

Soon after that, what was left of the Dagger exploded.