Michael Abberton

Four days later, Georgiou was doing her daily kata routine in the cramped space next to her bunk. Far from this being an inconvenience, she actually regarded this as a positive – having to adapt her attacks and counters to her surroundings. For a moment her mind took her back to the zero and variable gravity fight she had on the Discovery. The memory brought a fresh surge of adrenaline to her next series of strikes and blocks. The intercom buzzed, bringing her out of her concentration in an instant. Grabbing a towel off the back of a chair, she pushed the button and grunted a response, while wiping the sweat from her arms and neck.

“Captain,” said Fuzz, “We have some… trouble. You had better come to the bridge.”

Just then the deck moved suddenly, taking the old inertial dampeners by surprise and throwing Georgiou against the bulkhead. “Trouble?” she said, throwing the towel aside and putting on her tunic. “Want of a good pilot?”

On her way down the corridor she became aware that the ship was no longer at warp, and she could tell from the  running noise and feel of the deck that they were decelerating hard. The door hissed back and she stepped onto the command deck. All the crew were there at their stations, with only Garret turning to see her enter. Through the viewports, Georgiou could see a small cruiser of unfamiliar design, coming about directly in front of them before assuming a station less than five kilometres off the bow, directly ahead. 

Georgiou sat in her chair and looked at the scanners and tactical displays. A commercial freighter, retrofitted with shields and weapons, no Federation registry or operator’s license. Its shields were up, weapons energised and locked on target. 

“They are hailing us,” stated Fuzz, dispassionately. 

“Put them on screen then,” snapped Georgiou. 

A section of the viewport went opaque and the comms picture appeared. The bridge of the other ship, and two of its crew. They were Nausicaans. The Captain was identifiable by the more extensive jewellery that adorned his body armour, hair braids and facial piercings. 

“Human!” he growled, displaying his tusks. “Human! Stop ship and give cargo! Or you die! Human!”

“I am Captain Georgiou of the shuttle Arev. Who am I speaking to?”

“My name is Rork. Name not important. Give cargo!”

“Captain Rork, let’s be… civilised, about this,” she purred, smiling. “We could fight against your ship, though most likely lose. Both ships would be severely damaged. My crew would probably be killed or injured. I recognise your superiority, but I offer you a wager. A game of chance, a simple bet. You win either way, but wouldn’t you want a greater win? Take your chance?” 

“What game? I kill you all and take what I want. That is certain,”

“Yes, but what I suggest is a throw of dice. The highest number wins. If you win, you take everything, the cargo, ship, and the crew, intact, without a fight. If you lose, you still win all the cargo, but we fly away unharmed. What do you say?”

The other Nausicaan began to remonstrate with his captain in their own guttural language of growls and roars. “Wait, Human…” said Rork, the image going dark.

“Listen, we don’t have much time!” hissed Georgiou, leaning forward in her chair. “Zeph, arm and lock the photon torpedo onto their bridge. Set to fire automatically as soon as their shields drop. Starfleet, set the helm to emergency warp, course 180 mark 0 to engage as soon as the torpedo fires. Stand by to drop shields on my command.”

The screen flickered back to life. The captain’s hair seemed out of place, and the other Nausicaan was picking himself up off the deck. 

Georgiou smiled, her hands steepled in front of her chest, elbows on the armrests.

“I win. I like. But change deal. If you win throw, I get cargo, ship can go… you stay.”

Georgiou made a show of being shocked and considering the proposal, before nodding slowly. “Very well, Captain, to save my crew… Transport over to my bridge, we will throw the dice.” She got up and walked around to the back of the command chair, her hands resting on top of it. 

The Nausicaan nodded and the transmission ended. “Ready!” she said, looking around the bridge. 

“The Nausicaans are requesting we drop shields for transport,” said Fuzz. Georgiou nodded. 

“Shields down,” said Fuzz. 

Several things happened at once. A transporter signal began to appear at Georgiou’s side. The photon torpedo launcher fired with an audible whump! The warp engines engaged, and the ship ahead disappeared into a receding star field. The transporter signal coalesced into the towering form of the Nausicaan captain, who glanced around him for a couple of seconds before, in one motion,  Georgiou drew the jade sword from its scabbard on the back of her chair, leaped into the air and cut off his head. The body stood there, unaware that it was dead, the arms and fingers twitching. Georgiou swept its legs from under it, and it crashed to the deck, to join the rolling head. 

“All stop!” she shouted, and the ship came out of warp and decelerated again. “Damage?” she said, sheathing the sword. “No damage,” said Fuzz. 

“Take us back, Starfleet,” she said, taking her place in the chair. “They might have some cargo we could salvage.” 

Garret engaged the controls, and in less than a minute, they were slowly approaching the drifting wreckage of the Nausicaan freighter. The bridge and most of the forward section of the ship were gone, the interior structure open to space. It was drifting and spinning on its axis in a cloud of debris and ionised gas.

“Life signs?” asked Georgiou, looking at her scanner displays. 

“Negative,” said Fuzz. 

“How many crew…” said Garrett, looking up from her helm controls.

“Sixteen, all Nausicaan,” Fuzz replied. 

“Don’t get moral on me, Starfleet,” Georgiou sneered. “They would have killed us— not all immediately… This makes our cover more secure. We destroyed a ship in combat, we have their cargo of… duranium and plasma conduits… and we are in the market for a replacement torpedo. Zeph— can we dock to transfer their cargo or do we need to EVA?”

“EVA?” he said, turning towards her. 

“Suit up and carry it over,” said Georgiou. 

“I’ll do a detailed scan; looks like the aft port is intact.”

“Good. I’ll be in my quarters. Clean up the deck whilst you’re at it,” she said, pointing at the unfortunate Nausicaan captain, as she got up and strode through the door.

Garrett turned to look at the aftermath for the first time. “She… that was so effortless for her… she didn’t consult us…” 

Quasi shifted from a Caitian female into a hulking green Orion male. “That is her nature. And she’s right.” They stood and went to the body to pick it up. 

“Just because that was one solution doesn’t mean it was the only solution. And any delay on the warp engines and we would have suffered the same fate as they did – we were too close,” said Garret. 

“It was a gamble, then, but the gambler was our Captain,” said Fuzz, tuning in his chair.  “She assumed that the Nausicaans would do just what they did. But there were variables. For example, instead of beaming over, they could have just taken Georgiou to their ship. In that event, we would all have survived, but she would have been killed.”

Garrett nodded, realising that was true. Without a word, Georgiou had actually risked her own life to protect them and the ship. Or the mission? And, as the young lieutenant turned back to her controls to begin the docking manoeuvres, she puzzled over whether the same decisions would have been so easily made by a Starfleet captain, and what she would have done had she been in command.