STAR TREK - TOS - 96 - Honor Blade - Rihannsu 4

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Star Trek - TOS 096 - Honor Blade, Rihannsu 4

Chapter Six

sempach was one of a newer, experimental class of cruisers, the Constellation class, named in memory of

Matt Decker's old ship that had been lost against the planet killer in the L-374 system not so very long

ago. The class-name ship and Sempach had been the first out of the shipyards, with Speedwell close

be-hind, and all of them were already busy performing their basic function-trying out a new four-nacelle

design that was supposed to provide starships with a more streamlined and reliable warp field, capable of

higher speeds. The technology, referred to as "pre-transwarp" in some of the literature Jim had seen, was

extremely interesting but technically somewhat difficult to understand, and Scotty had passed it on to his

captain with a single comment: "Rubbish." Nonetheless, the technology seemed so far to be

working all right, and the design crews had plainly been busy elsewhere too: the ship was very

hand-some from the outside, with a lean and rakish look to her. As the transporter effect wore off, Jim

looked around Sempach' transporter room, surprised at its size and its somewhat nonutilitarian look;

there was even a small lounge area off to one side, with com-fortable sealing. Kind of overdone, Jim

thought as he greeted the transporter technician at the console and then raised an eyebrow at himself.

She's affecting me. Still, it'd be nice not having to stand around waiting for visiting dignitaries to arrive.

The transporter room doors opened, and Com-modore Danilov came in, looking much as he had when

Jim had last seen him in San Francisco: a brawny man of medium height, dark with a combina-tion of

Polynesian and eastern European blood, the dark hair going silver-shot now above a broad, round face,

surprisingly unlined for someone of his age.

"Sir," Jim said, "you hardly had to come down here to meet me..."

The commodore gave him a wry look out of his sharp dark eyes as they shook hands. "Captain," Danilov

said, "I'm still learning to find my way around this ship. I know I could have sent a lieu-tenant for you, but

they get lost too. Come on."

They went off down the corridors together, the commodore making his way quickly enough despite his

disclaimer. Jim's feelings about his superior offi-cers ranged from the respectful to the occasionally

scandalous, but here was one man in whose case he

came down hard on the respectful side: twenty-five years in Starfleet, the kind of officer who flew a ship

or a desk with equal skill-though he fought them more often than he simply flew them. Danilov's

ex-perience and effectiveness in battle had become leg-endary; hi particular, he had probably scored

more points during the last big war with the Klingons than any other commander except Captain Suvuk

of In-trepid, until the Organians blew the whistle and stopped play. Jono Danilov had that invaluable

com-modity for a commander, a reputation for luck: he always seemed to come out only slightly

scorched from any trouble he got into, no matter how the trou-ble seemed to seek him out-and it did.

"She's a fine ship," he said to Jim as they turned a corner, "a little fidgety at first, but she's settled hi nicely

now. Fleet's pleased: they're already flying the keels for the two new ones-Stargazer and Hathaway."

Jim nodded. "She's a real lady, Commodore. And she still has that new-ship smell."

"I want to keep it that way for a while," Danilov said, shooting Jim a look, "and avoid getting things all

scorched and smoky. The question is, will I be able to."

He came to a door without a label and waved it open. Danilov's quarters were considerably bigger than

Jim's on Enterprise, and the office was also a lot more spacious. "Palatial," Jim said. "Rank hath its

privileges."

"Hardly. This is the standard captain's cabin for

this model. Sit down, Jim, please. Can I offer you a brandy?"

"Thank you, Dan, yes."

He went over to a glass-doored cupboard and got it, and Jim sat looking around him for the moment at

the furnishings, as spare as most field personnel's, but still individual: on the desk, a sleek, round old Inuit

soapstone sculpture of a bear; a good amateur watercolor of the Ten-Thousand-Step Stair in misty

weather, hanging on the wall behind the desk along with a brace of latoun-inlaid "snapdragon" flintlocks

from Altair VI; a shaggy blue tree-pelt from Cas-taneda draped over the back and seat of the

high-backed chair behind the desk.

Danilov handed Jim the drink in a heavy-bottomed crystal glass and seated himself. "Viva," he said, lifting

his glass.

"Cheers," Jim said, and sipped.

They sat appreciating the drinks for a few sec-onds, but no more. "So," Danilov said, "tell me about this

little engagement you had here."

"Little!" Jim gave him a look. "Seven ships against two, sir; not my kind of odds. And circum-stances

were less than ideal."

"It would have been seven against one," Danilov said, "had things gone strictly by the book."

"They didn't," Jim said, "because I used some lat-itude in construing the orders that Fleet had specifi-cally

given me."

"Might I inquire about the reasons, Jim?" Danilov asked. "Or was it just on general principle?"

"I had a hunch."

Danilov let out a long breath. "No arguing with those," he said after a moment. "They've saved both our

lives often enough before now."

"And it turns out to have been a good thing, in ret-rospect. It proves I was correct to be concerned

about leaks of information from-" Even now Jim could hardly bring himself to say "Starfleet." "From

Earth."

Dan sat back and looked at him. "No one but Fleet should have known where Bloodwing was going to

be, or when," Jim said, "and regardless, there were seven Romulan vessels waiting for us there, cloaked.

If Ael had been on site when origi-nally scheduled, she would be dead now."

"Not a captive?"

"I doubt it. No one offered us the opportunity to surrender her. They just attacked."

"Your presence there might have affected then-plans."

"That's occurred to me. But it doesn't matter, Dan. Bloodwing's commander wouldn't have al-lowed

herself to be taken alive. She would have fought until her ship was destroyed to prevent the Sword, or

herself, falling into their hands."

"You're sure of that?"

"Yes."

"You're sure," Danilov said, looking steadily at Jim, "that your thinking on this particular subject is clear?"

"Dan," Jim said, nettled, " 'this particular subject' is a non-subject. My 'thinking' as regards Command-er

t'Rllaillieu is clear enough for my first officer,

who is something of an expert on the clarity of thought, and my CMO, who is something of an ex-pert on

humans in general, and me in particular." Danilov's gaze dropped. "The commander is a courageous and

sometimes brilliant officer who, at the cost of her own career, sought us out and gave us valuable

information which kept the balance of power from being irreparably destroyed. If the effec-tiveness of

that intervention has been rendered short-lived by subsequent events, well, such things happen. If one of

us had done the things she's done, he or she would have been loaded down with enough decorations to

make the wearer fall face forward on trying to stand. But because she's from an unfriendly power, no one

seems willing to take what she's done at face value."

There was a short silence. "The point is," Danilov said, "she's a Romulan. And Romulans plot."

Jim got up and started to pace. "Dan, with all due respect, you know as well as I do why you were so

glad to get away from that desk in San Francisco. Politics! Romulans have politics just as we do, though

possibly in a more complex mode. But this time, politics is failing, as it sometimes does, to keep this

culture's internal conflicts from erupting into a war that affects others outside it. Including us. And we still

have a problem at our end, because some-how very detailed information about our reactions to this

situation is leaking out of Starfleet and getting to the Romulans-going straight to where it can do the most

harm." Jim paused and gripped the back of

his chair, leaning on it. "Something has to be done, and fast Otherwise, when hostilities do break out,

we're going to be in serious trouble." ,

Danilov sat back. "Your concern," he said, "is noted and logged."

"Which reassures me. But what's being done about it?"

Danilov just looked at him for a moment "Jim, I can't discuss it"

Which meant he either knew something was being done, or knew that nothing was. "It's going to impair

our conduct of this operation," Jim said, "if our personnel can't be sure that details of where they'll be

aren't being piped straight through to the people who're going to be shooting at them."

"You leave the conduct of the operation with me," Danilov said, "since that's where Starfleet has placed

it" The look he gave Jim implied that even enduring comradeship would not be allowed to inter-fere with

some things.

Jim let the pause stretch out. "Yes, sir."

Danilov let out a long breath and reached out to pick up the smooth gray soapstone bear, turning it over

in bis hands. "Aside from that for the moment, Jim, message traffic has become an issue. It's way, way up

on the Romulan side. We don't even need to be able to read those messages to know mat a mas-sive

mobilization is under way, and to understand perfectly well where it's pointing."

"Lieutenant Uhura tells me that Starfleet message

traffic has also been reaching unusual levels," Jim said, sitting down again.

Danilov nodded. "Yes. With that in mind, we're carrying some material for you that Starfleet didn't want

to send out through the ether. Strategy briefings, general intelligence from inside the Imperium... other

information."

"They are afraid that some of our codes have been broken."

Danilov put the bear back down on his desk. "Yes. Some have been allowed to go 'stale' on purpose, for

use when we want traffic to be intercepted. We've hand carried in two new encryption systems for you;

all the rest of the ships in the task force have them already. You're to have your science officer install

them immediately. One of them is for use now, the other is to be held."

"For when war breaks out..." Jim said.

Danilov looked at Jim with great unease. "No one in Fleet is saying that word out loud," he said. "But you

don't have to be a telepath to hear people think-ing it."

"And another thing about message traffic," Jim said. "Are you sure the monitoring stations are func-tioning

properly? Those Romulan ships shouldn't have been able to cross the Zone, cloaked or not, without

being detected by the monitoring web. Are some of those satellites malfunctioning? Have they been

sabotaged? Or have the Romulans come up with a cloaking device that not even the monitoring stations'

hardware can detect?"

Danilov frowned, shook his head. "It's being looked into, Jim. We're carrying a specialist communications

team that will be performing advanced remote sensing and diagnostic routines to see what the story is

when we get close enough to the Zone. For the moment, we're treating the information as reliable once

it's been corroborated by other intelligence sources."

Jim nodded. He took out the data solid he had brought with him and passed it across the desk to the

commodore, who put it on the reading pad. A little holographic text window leaped into being, scrolling

down some of the contents with a soft chirring sound.

"While we're on the subject of things better not pumped into the ether at the moment," Jim said, "on this

solid is our most recent work on the Sunseed project, including a way to tune starships' shields hi order

to screen out the worst of the artificial ion storm effect. I think this should be passed immedr-ately to

every other Starfleet vessel within range... and the preferred method of passing it should be by hand carry

rather than broadcast."

Danilov looked at the text a moment longer, then nodded and touched the reading plate. The "window"

disappeared with a chirp. "We'll pass it to them to-morrow," he said, turning the solid over hi his hands.

"More material should be forthcoming shortly," Jim said. "But this kept our rear ends out of the sling at 15

Tri. Please make sure everyone takes it seri-ously."

"All right." Danilov looked up again. "There's no doubt that your forethought pulled this one out of

the fire, Jim. It was a nasty situation, elegantly han-dled. But I should warn you, there'll still be some at

Fleet who construe this kind of order juggling as an indication of someone trying to see how much he can

get away with..."

"You're saying," Jim said, "that they're looking for proof of loyalty via blind obedience. Not the best place

to look for it, Dan. But even if they are presently wasting their time worrying about minor issues like that,

I don't think they'll have leisure for it much longer."

"No," Danilov said, "not once things get started tomorrow morning." He brought his standard desk

viewer around toward him and glanced at it. "The first nonofficial meeting happens tomorrow morn-ing.

Lake Champlain and Hemalat have gone ahead to meet the Romulans and bring them in to RV Tri; we

expect to hear that they've made con-tact in a few hours. Tomorrow afternoon, our ships' time, we'll be

arriving at the rendezvous point. That evening, we have a social event to allow for some early

assessments and to let both sides synchronize the meeting schedule-no one wants to be up in the middle

of their own night while the other side is fresh. And then the main session gets under way, and we find out

how much trouble we're really in."

"While behind us, on both sides, the eagles gather..." Jim frowned. "A lot of chances for things to go

wrong, Dan. Somebody on one side or the other jumps the gun, and the shooting starts..."

"If any of my commanders do any such thing," Danilov said, "I will have their hides for hangings."

"A pity you can't enforce something similar on the Romulans," Jim said.

"We will play by the rules," Danilov said. "What the Romulans will do, the event will show."

Jim's smile was both grim and amused. "That's almost exactly what Ael said... You should come over and

meet her this evening."

"I will," said Danilov, "once we're under way. I wouldn't mind getting out of this general area, just in case

anyone else turns up."

"That's another concern, Dan. On that solid I gave you there's a 3-D analysis I did earlier. Later on you

should take a look at it-"

"Why not now?" Danilov said. He put the solid down on the reader plate again and touched another

control. Jim's hologram of the area where Empire, Imperium, and Federation all met now sprang into life

in the air.

Jim's smile was annoyed. "Dan, it's just not fan-that you have all these slick new gadgets when 7-"

"Now, now," Danilov said, "thou shall not covet thy neighbor's ship."

"Yes, well. But my neighbor's weaponry," Jim said, "is another matter."

Danilov smiled at that as he rotated the hologram. "Yes, Sempach is loaded for bear, isn't she? I've been

wishing for a chance to use what she's got. Now I wish I didn't have to... and I'm becoming increasingly

sure I will."

He paused, looking at the hologram. "You think there might be a multiple-location breakout."

"It's occurred to me."

"Fleet's been thinking that way too." Danilov looked at the hologram, sighed, and reached side-ways to

pick up his bear again, turning it over and over in his hands. "And there sit the Klingons. Or rather, they

haven't been sitting; they've been run-ning amok in the Romulan fringe systems-smash-and-grab stuff,

asset-stripping the furthest planets."

"Suggesting they know the Romulans are going to make a big move now and won't bother defending

targets that distance makes difficult to support."

"It does suggest that, doesn't it," Danilov said. "Hints and suggestions... I'd give a lot for some re-cent

hard data from a source I trust."

"You may get some of that shortly."

"I desperately hope so." He turned away from the hologram and put the bear aside. "Well, is there

any-thing else?'

Jim and the commodore looked at each other some-what somberly as Jim stood up. "As regards

Starfleet's concerns about me," Jim said, "you don't believe them, Dan, do you? You know me better

than that"

Danilov didn't say anything for a long moment. "Look, Jim," he said finally, "people change. We're

scattered all over the galaxy, all of us, for prolonged periods of time, in strange and sometimes disturbing

circumstances. Starship captains are selected for sta-bility, we both know that. But there's a galaxy full of

unknowns out there, not to mention the ones at the

bottom of the human mind... and things that can't always be predicted do happen. In a ship of this class,

it's hard to avoid thinking frequently of Matt Decker."

"Matt was a one-off."

"Garth of Izar."

"That wasn't his fault. The alien treatment that saved his life-"

"Ron Tracey."

Jim grimaced.

"Jim," Danilov said, "we may or may not be a breed apart, but when Starship commanders go off the

rails, we do it spectacularly. Now, don't mistake me. I know perfectly well you're not likely to do

anything like what Matt did. But every heart has its weaknesses, and conflicting loyalties can crucify a

man faster than anything else."

"You can tell the fleet admiral," Jim said, standing very straight, "that my loyalties to the Federation and to

Starfleet are quite clear, in accordance with my oaths to both those organizations. Starfleet Com-mand

should relieve me immediately if they think otherwise. But I will fight such a course of action, for they

have no evidence whatsoever to back up any such suspicions. And I will win that fight."

Danilov looked at him steadily. "They sent you ahead to warn me, didn't they?" Jim said.

"I volunteered to make this side trip when I saw which way the wind was blowing back on Earth,"

Danilov said after a moment. "We've known each other a good while, Jim. You were the most ornery

ensign a first-time lieutenant ever had to keep in order. But you wouldn't lie to a shipmate then, and I

don't believe you'd lie to a fellow officer now. In-deed, you weren't all that good at lying when you had

to."

"Possibly the root of this whole problem," Jim said softly, remembering how he had flinched, long ago, at

reading the sealed orders from Starfleet that finally sent Enterprise into the Neu-tral Zone under the

command of a captain who had to seem to be losing his marbles. And as for this time...

"Yes. You know the truth, and I'm sure you're telling it to me. But, Jim, you understand... they have to be

sure."

"I understand," Jim said. "But it doesn't make me any happier about it, at a time like this, to find diem so

damned uncertain."

"No one promised us these jobs were necessarily going to make us happy all the time," Commodore

Danilov said. "And our superiors are as mortal as we are, and as fallible."

"They are?" Jim said. "There go all my illusions."

Danilov chuckled. "Jim, our three ships will leave immediately for the task force rendezvous point at RV

Tri. Nimrod will join us in a couple of hours, and Ortisei shortly thereafter. We should find Hemalat and

Lake Champlain waiting for us with the Romu-lans: Speedwell has another errand and may arrive a little

late. A little before we arrive at RV Tri, Ortisei will escort Bloodwing out of the area. Together

they'll stay some light-years out of detection range until and unless they're called in."

"I'll pass that on to Commander t'Rllaillieu," Jim said.

"Will she cooperate?" Danilov said, looking closely at him again.

"She will," Jim said. "But I must tell you that she's already made it plain she has no intention of freely

giving herself up to the Romulans if they ask for her."

"That could be a problem."

"It has to be one that Starfleet's anticipated. And it's a problem only if they decide they want to hand her

over to the Romulans. Which, taking that into account"-he nodded at the hologram hanging in the air,

burning in red, blue, and green-"isn't going to keep them from going to war now. Not after what they did

at 15 Tri."

Danilov looked at the hologram. "I wish I could be sure," he said. "The Federation isn't. Part of our job

here is to find out whether this war really has to happen."

"You may find out the answer," Jim said, "by being in the first battle, Dan."

"We're prepared for that," Danilov said. "But just as prepared to walk away, if there's any way to have

peace break out instead."

"Amen," Jim said, reaching down to the desk and lifting his glass.

They knocked their glasses together and tossed off the remainder of the brandy. Jim put his glass down

as Danilov did. "Jim," Danilov said. "I know what

shape of orders they cut you. Please... be careful... because you're being closely watched."

By you, old friend, Jim thought "Thanks for the warning," he said as Danilov stood. "No, it's all right,

Dan. I can find my way out."

Danilov sat down again, throwing him an amused look. "Later, Jim."

He left Danilov there looking at the holographic representation of the Triangulum spaces, and only got

lost once on his way back to the transporter room.

Rihannsu song spoke wistfully enough of the an-cient morning and evening stars, the old ships, long fallen

from orbit. Nowadays, though, Teleb tr'Sathe thought, we have only the one... but it's better by far.

Often enough, when on leave on ch'Rihan, he had looked up from some balmy beach or forest path and

tracked it across the night sky. Right now he could not see it, but that was only natural: he was in it. But

not for long!

Teleb turned from the wide plasteel port looking down on ch'Rihan and gazed back across the load-ing

bay. It was a space half a stai wide, one of twenty docking and loading facilities arranged around a vast

spherical central core that was big enough to take even the largest of Grand Fleet's star-ships.

Ur-Metheisn was probably one of the biggest orbital ship-servicing facilities anywhere in known space;

even the Klingons and the Federation had nothing to match it. They preferred smaller facilities, more

spread out among their colonies. The Rihannsu

school of thought preferred larger central facilities, "hubs," and this was the first and greatest of them:

Sunside Station, the undisputed ruler of the skies over ch'Rihan. From it all the defense satellites were

controlled and coordinated; from it the Fleet's ships were dispatched all over the Empire, executing the

decisions made by the great-and-good down in the Dome. This was the beating heart of the Grand Fleet,

and the kindly Elements had seen fit to drop Teleb right into the middle of it, his captain-appren-ticeship

successfully passed and himself newly pro-moted, the pins now bright on his collar, with his own cruiser

Ca/a/poised graceful and nearly ready to go outside the docking and loading tube, and the prospect of

battle in the offing. Life could not have looked brighter to him if Teleb had stared straight at the sun.

For the moment, he was doing what his mentor-captain had advised him-standing by and letting his crew

get on with their jobs-though he would have much preferred to be right in the middle of them, hustling the

loading crew, watching every de-tail. The excitement was definitely getting the better of him now.

Artaleirh! When Teleb had seen the or-ders, he had nearly begun to sing with the sheer ex-citement of it

all. Artaleirh was a vital system, and the news of the rebellion there had shocked and hor-rified him. But

there would not be a rebellion for much longer. The sight of six cruisers in their skies would shortly

remind those people of their proper loyalties. But if it doesn't-Teleb frowned. He didn't

much care for the idea of having to make war on other Rihannsu. Weren't there Klingons and Feds

enough to destroy? But there was no place for rebel-lion if the Empire was to remain strong hi the face of

her enemies elsewhere hi the galaxy. I am the ser-vant of the Senate and the Praetorate, he thought. / am

the strong arm of the Empire. lama captain in Grand Fleet, and I will carry out my orders and win victory

over the Empire's enemies, within it or with-out it, at whatever cost!

Then Teleb grinned. "Adolescent effusions." That was what his mentor-captain Mirrstul had called such

statements, though she had been kindly enough about it Well, she had a right to her opinions: she was a

doughty warrior and a brilliant tactician. But he could not imagine her ever having been young. As for

himself, while he had his youth, he was not going to waste it on too much somberness.

Teleb leaned against the bulkhead with his arms folded, watching one of the specialist loading crews

bringing in the last batch of photon torpedoes, trundling them quickly down the huge loading tube into

Calaf's lower weapons bay. He glanced at the chrono woven into his uniform sleeve. Almost ready, he

thought. Teleb wanted very much to be the first to have the honor of reporting his ship ready to take off

on this mission. A few breaths more, then I will take my bridge and be the first to make the

announce-ment-

Then he caught sight of a tall dark shape walking quickly across the floor of the vast bay toward him,

and he smiled slightly. Full dress uniform, glittering in black-gold and black; on departure day, you would

never see Jisit in anything else. She was try-ing hard to look sober and serious, as befitted one setting out

on an important mission, but such a de-meanor always sat oddly on her as far as Teleb was concerned.

His memory always overlaid them with the image of Jisit as she had been on that outrageous party night

after her return from her first campaign, completely sozzled on ale, wearing a strange pointed hat with a

tassel and singing "The High Queen's Bastard Daughter" to her crew and his hi a key yet to be

discovered by any other sentient being.

"Well, Captain tr'Sathe," she said, coming up to him and giving him two breaths' worth of bow.

"Well, Captain t'Nennien," he said, and gave it right back to her, to the very fraction of a second.

Then they both burst out laughing and collapsed into one another's arms. "Are you excited?" she hissed

into his ear. "I can't bear it. I think I'll scream."

"Don't. They'll think you're singing again."

She laughed even harder and held him away. "Beast!"

"Guilty," Teleb said. 'Is Teverresh ready?"

"Two loads to go yet, and my master engineer is complaining about retiming the warp drive before we

leave. You'll beat me again, you fiddly little neirrh."

He grinned. "I must keep you in your place some-how."

"Oh, and what would that be?"

"Behind me."

"Behind your back, you mean." The grin went a little more sober. "But that way, with me and Tever-resh

there, maybe no one will stab you hi it. It's not a safe place we're going, Teleb. Artaleirh has gone quiet."

"Oh?"

She shook her head. "The time limit on the ulti-matum expired two hours ago. They made no answer to

the Senate's last warning. We will have to imple-ment our orders to the full."

Teleb sighed. "Are they all gone mad? With the Klingons running about savaging everything they can, this

is no time to renounce the Empire's protection."

"Mad or not, we will call them back to their proper loyalty," Jisit said, "... or relieve them of it and take it

on ourselves."

"And win glory..."

"I don't know about the glory," Jisit said, "but we'll carry out our orders, make our frontiers safe, and

uphold the rule of law. That's good enough for me. Maybe pick up a few points toward my next

promotion." She poked him none too gently in the shoulder. "And as for you, you stay out of trouble

when we get there. It would be embarrassing for me to have to save you again, now that they've finally

trusted you with Calaf without old Mirrstul looking over your shoulder."

"What do you mean, save me again?" But Teleb's chrono chirped softly. "That's it," he said, glancing over

at the loading tubes. The Sunside-based loading

crews were leaving, pushing the last of the floater pallets in front of them. "I should go."

"Go on," Jisit said, "and I'll resume reminding you of the Elements' own truth, which you are pleased to

refuse to see, after this operation's over. Mind your crew now, Captain!"

"You mind yours, Captain," he said. She turned, but he caught her by the hand and she paused. He

bowed over that hand, low enough to breathe softly on the back of it.

She smiled, gripped the hand as he straightened. "Message me tonight, after we make warp."

"I will."

She turned and headed away across the loading bay, and Teleb hurried across to Calaf s loading tube to

make one final check on the condition of the weapons hold before going up to his bridge. He was

humming the first line of "The High Queen's Bas-tard Daughter" as he went up the tube ramp into Calaf s

belly, and away to his first real war.

Jim was still thinking about Sempach's weapons when he got back. The thought led to the idea that he'd

like to look over her warp engines at some point, and that thought reminded him of something else. He

paused in the corridor and hit a comm but-ton. "Bridge."

"Bridge. Chekov here."

"Mr. Chekov, is Mr. Spock on the bridge?"

"He is on a scheduled break, Captain. I believe he has gone down to the main mess."

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StarTrek-TOS096-HonorBlade,Rihannsu4ChapterSixsempachwasoneofanewer,experimentalclassofcruisers,theConstellationclass,namedinmemoryofMattDecker'soldshipthathadbeenlostagainsttheplanetkillerintheL-374systemnotsoverylongago.Theclass-nameshipandSempachhadbeenthefirstoutoftheshipyards,withSpeedwellclose...

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STAR TREK - TOS - 96 - Honor Blade - Rihannsu 4

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