-1It had been many, many years ago since they had come. Starfleet, perhaps the most powerful organization in the Alpha quadrant, had been infiltrated and nearly destroyed. By organisms not even a 10th their size. It was Starfleet's biggest embarrassment that they hardly knew where the foe had come from, and yes, foe was the correct word. They claimed they wanted peaceful coexistence, and sought only harmony, but it was lies, desperation to prevent two Starfleet officers from vaporizing their mother creature…a desperate attempt that failed them, and left the Federation relatively unharmed. Only one thing remained, a homing beacon. Of course, it was quickly shut down, brutally so by the flagship's first officer, Commander William T. Riker. He vaporized the transmission equipment with his phaser. But many, many years had passed, and nothing had happened, nothing became of the parasites who attempted to seize the Federation. Starfleet eventually grew distracted, and distraction led to forgetting, and forgetting was soon to lead to chaos. In fact, for most people, it had. The parasites had returned.

It had started with a science vessel, an Obreth class ship on the literal edge of Federation space nearest the Beta quadrant. Because the vessel had been so far out, it had had an escort vessel, an old Constellation class vessel. They had been running high-intensity long range scans of systems beyond the Federation's influence, when it happened. A blip, on the scope. Life signs, in space, and not in a vessel. The natural thing, was of course, to investigate. Several hours later, the Constellation vessel (the USS Miami) received a hail from their counterpart, asking them for tactical assistance. When they arrived, the Obreth was adrift in space, and there was nothing to be seen. Cautious, they investigated. When they hailed the Obreth class, the response was that 'everything was in order'. So, situation contained, the Miami lowered her shields. And that was then the Obreth fired full phasers into her bridge. Obreth's were by no means combat vessels, but a direct hit from a well aimed shot to the bridge section caused catastrophic damage, especially at such close range and without shields. That was the last anyone heard from them for quite some time. Until, miraculously, they arrived at Earth itself to report directly to Starfleet command. Three months later, Earth was infected almost utterly with parasites, and the infection had spread to almost all of the core defense fleet. It was chaos. What was left of Starfleet command ordered all ships to stay away and not to let anyone board or leave their vessels, for fear of spreading the infection. Of course, there were those who disobeyed…

Time: Several years after the return of the USS Voyager

Location: Deep Space 9, Orbiting planet Bajor

She was truly beautiful. Old, definitely, outdate, possibly, but negative adjectives ended there. The ship was truly stunning. The original Excelsior class had become the most advanced ship in the fleet upon her commissioning. True, the Excelsior was beginning to show signs of age, and certainly not seeming strong enough compared to the latest designs but the fact remained they were still, even by the day's increasing standards, very good and reliable vessels. And those were just the standard ships, and the ship that posed itself in perfect elegance before Commander Jack Ryson was no ordinary Excelsior, she was the USS Lakota. This was the heavy combat sub-type of the Excelsior class, updated and refitted to see if Starfleet could efficiently and effectively upgrade other existing vessels to meet modern combat criteria of the time when they had been so needed, in the war with the Dominion. They tested the Lakota against the Defiant, and the Lakota was quite thoroughly trounced. But over the years, the vessel had become something of an ongoing experiment with Starfleet Tactical, to see just how crazy they could make one vessel. The primary armaments were easily twice as powerful and then some of the former vessel. The phaser arrays had been upgraded from modest type-nine's to whopping type-12's, quantum torpedo tubes had been changed from the underpowered, aging tubes to the latest pulse fire systems. Power supply came from an experimental warp core that could supposedly keep the ship at an optimum cruise of warp 9.763. The entire power grid had been stripped and redone from scratch, and designed to remain stable even under heavy fire. Primary shields upgraded, secondary shield generators added, almost all non-combat related sections of the ship had been converted to meet some kind of purpose. Hull armor had been thickened and reinforced. Perhaps the most impressive upgrade was the stripping of every single panel, even if it had only one single button, and replacing it with brand new equipment, to augment the new computer core and bio-neural gel packs. The ship was truly a monster, however, the time and energy spent upgrading all Excelsior-class vessels to the standard of the Lakota was staggering.

Starfleet had briefly considered another mock-battle with the Lakota and a Galaxy-class to help even the maneuverability variable, but had seen it pointless. They did however, let the Lakota project continue unhindered. All things considered, at least on paper, the Lakota was a good match for a Sovereign-class ship, and maybe more than a match. Unofficially, it was considered the most lethal ship in the fleet, primarily because of the surprise an enemy would get after engaging them. Sadly, she had never been properly tested in battle with her latest upgrades. That was all about to change, however. The parasites had spread fast, and although many Federation outposts and star bases were left unharmed and unaffected by the parasite's incursion, they were isolated and without support. Deep Space Nine was the last bastion of Starfleet's strength. Almost all the remaining vessels not affected by the parasites had been recalled to it. All but one, because she was already there.

That was the insanity of this plan, the order had come from nowhere, directly to Commander Ryson, not even through a Captain or other higher-up. He had been ordered to assemble a crew, choosing anyone he wished, and take the Lakota to 'start the fireworks' as the orders had stated. An outpost in the Vandratz system was apparently 'under siege'. The report claimed a pair of Starfleet ships had entered orbit, fired a few well placed shots to disable the planetary defense grid, and began waiting. That was two weeks ago. No update since then, though none was really necessary. His mission was to take the Lakota, and retake the system. By force, if 'necessary' the report had said. It implied that he should attempt stealth, but the Lakota was not a subtle vessel. And besides, while the core defense fleet consisted of a lot of heavy firepower, most of them had barely heard of the Lakota. Ryson secretly hoped that it came to a fight. The time for that kind of thinking was gone, however, as his wrist chronometer chimed again. He tapped his combadge once, his deep voice barely above a whisper. "Excel to Lieutenant Koto. I recommend we cancel our training sessions." he said quietly. The response was very quick. "Koto here, old friend. We'll have to reschedule, I'm going on a vacation." That was all he needed to know. His hand slipped into the pocket of his uniform and felt for the site-to-site transporter. He pushed a button that activated a preprogrammed transport. The air tingled, energy filled his body, he was alone in a void of white light, and then he was on the bridge of the Lakota.

"Officer on the deck." , someone said behind him. Ryson turned and found the bridge crew standing at attention. "As you were." , he whispered almost silently. The officers…no, soldiers, retook their stations without much hesitation. They were his friends, members of his own private unit. They were all handpicked because they were ex-marines. That incentive had come from the report of unarmed combat with the infected hosts, they had incredible strength and stamina.

Jack Ryson sat down in a position he had never ever intended to take, the role of starship captain. But times were…well, beyond hard. This is how it was. "All stations, make final preparations for departure. Seal all unoccupied decks and sections." , he said firmly through the ships intercom. The bridge quickly became abuzz with the sounds of the skeleton crew performing final checks. "Tactical systems on full standby, emergency power-up procedures ready, sir", the tactical officer, a woman named Lina Coax, told him briskly. "Good work, second officer." , Ryson replied stiffly. "When Deep Space 9 becomes aware that this ship is powering up and attempting to leave, we're going to have to make a quick exit or else the Defiant will be giving us a re-match that we definitely don't want to deal with."

Someone muttered something that sounded like an oath in Klingon. The computer chimed. "Attention. All stations have been secured for emergency release procedures." The computer's voice had said more than enough. Ryson gripped the command chair's right armrest firmly. "Initiate emergency power-up procedures, standby to increase power to shields and propulsion systems. All hands, brace for incoming fire. Mister Wilko, I want you to use a tractor beam to help push us away from the station as quickly as possible while the impulse engines warm up", Ryson barked. "Aye captain", came Wilko's shout from the operations console. The thrum of power slowly began to build, and the average heart rate on the bridge was almost noticeably increasing. People's motions were faster and more precise, they moved fluidly. Excitement. A normal starship crew would have been filled with dread going on this suicide mission, but this group of crack shots and tech-junkies was more than up to the task. The thrum had intensified to a low noise, and just as Ryson was about to tap his combadge: "Bridge this is engineering. All systems operating in normal parameters. We are ready to depart sir. Estimate less than twenty seconds before Sisko realizes what's going on. Engineering, out."

Jack muttered something and cleared his throat. "Helm, set course for the target system. Tactical, as soon as we've cleared the pylon, raise our shields. Transfer all available power to engines and shields." he commanded frimly, letting confidence and control fill his voice. "Course set sir," the helmsman said. "Proceed with course, ahead full impulse, then maximum warp once we're clear of the station."

There was a loud clang of metal and a slight vibration as the physical docking components were released. "We're clear of the pylon, raising shields and diverting energy," the helmsman said. "Captain, DS Nine is hailing, ordering our immediate surrender." Ryson smiled softly. "Send our regrets," he said quietly. In space, the Lakota pushed clear of the ring, her tractor beam helping push the great ship away only slightly. Then, her primary drive systems finally finished their warm-up cycles, and power was shunted to them. The great impulse engines glowed brightly against the void as the Lakota began to arc gracefully away from the station. Power levels climbed to full, and the ship glowed brightly from every window. Her twin warp nacelles shone brightest of all. But nothing glowed as brightly as her shield bubble as Deep Space 9 opened fire.

Fearing that the parasites had boarded the Lakota somehow, they hadn't wasted a second. Phaser arrays began to lash out, torpedo tubes to load. Of course, the crew of the Lakota had been waiting for that. So they simply planted a few modified photon-grenades, and at the press of a switch, the whole of DS9 lost primary power as a hundred micro explosions destroyed power relays. No critical damage, in fact, the damage could be repaired in a matter of hours. There were many starships docked at the station, and plenty more in orbit of the station and/or Bajor. There was not a thing the Lakota could do about those, however. Two runabouts came veering out of orbit and immediately opened fire. The much larger Lakota simply ignored them as she continued to accelerate clear of the station, her impulse drives slowly bringing her up to speed. But the engines weren't going for all out acceleration. It was risky, but as long as the heading was correct, the axis rotation of the ship didn't matter. There was a flash, and the ship's warp engines speed her away for half a second, just long enough to reorient and began the trip again.

Time: 3 Days after the Lakota's escape from DS9

Location: Vandratz system, 8th planet of 15, Federation Outpost # 409

The Lakota finally eased herself out of warp, just out of sensor range of the station. Oddly, there were no starships orbiting it at all, and long range scans had picked up nothing that even hinted at starship activity within the past week. The system was as quiet as…well, death. Ryson hated that line of thinking, but given the barely alive situation the Federation was in, he had no other choice. Often, he speculated on why their allies, the Klingons, had not come to aid them in 'glorious battle' against the scourge of parasites. Of course there was the risk of infection, a significant risk indeed, even for battle hungry Klingons. But Klingons were more likely to commit ritual suicide than allow themselves to be infected by those…things. It was almost certainly misdirected anger, but in a matter of months, the once most prominent space faring culture had been smashed into submission, by their own forces. Ground engagements had at first been the most common form of fighting, something Klingons excelled at. The creatures not only boosted adrenalin but also somehow managed to resist phasers, to the point where low settings were completely ineffective. It proved frustrating and difficult on both a physical and emotional level for un-afflicted troops to have to vaporize former colleagues. And vaporizing really was the only way. Before the chain of command began to totally collapse, Starfleet ordered all weapons to be set on maximum setting when engaging in small-arms firefights.

And vaporize they would. "Yellow alert, full sensor sweep." Ryson ordered. Fingers danced across consoles and sensors reached out into space, searching for anything that moved. "Scan results coming in sir…ah, here we are. Three vessels on the edge of the system, just sitting there. Scans show them to be an Ambassador, a Nova, and a Nebula. Pretty heavy firepower, sir." said the man manning the science station. Ryson stroked his chin. "Any chance of an identification on those vessels?" he asked. "Negative sir, the parasites appear to have deactivated the transponders," came the reply. The way these creatures worked was increasingly confusing…first they invade a system, then send the ships that did the invading to the edge of the system in the middle of space, with barely any systems running at all, according to the readout on the panels. "Bah. I don't like this at all. Helm, set course for the station, bring us in nice and slow, three quarter impulse until we're within their sensor range, then punch it up to full power." Ryson commanded. The thrum of power filled his ears for a moment as the Lakota churned towards the station.

"Captain, sensor scans coming in of the station. Readings on life signs are…inconclusive. Whatever those things did on that station, its scrambling all our scans," said his chosen first officer, Commander Saben Jackson. "Compensate?" Ryson replied. Jackson was a big man, but his hands still danced across the controls in their own sort of miniature ballet. He had short, buzzed hair, and his large size had nothing to at all with body fat. He had a name…Brick, as he was sometimes called. Apparently, that was only half to do with his strength and size, the rest came from his reputation in battle as being like a 'brick'. Ryson decided to speculate later as Jackson shook his head. "No good sir, all I'm getting is radiation readings…interesting, slightly above normal," he said. Ryson crossed the distance, and took a glance at the panel. His eyebrow shot up in surprise. "Latent weapons signatures? These look pretty recent, especially in that section, where's that?" he asked quickly. Saben's fingers danced a waltz, and the sensors attempted to enhance the scan of the section. "Looks like some kind of research area from the amount of equipment in there, but it could easily be the command center too, I recommend we plan for either instance," he half whispered. Jack touched him lightly on the shoulder before returning to the command chair. "Entering the station's sensor range sir, increasing power to impulse engines." the helmsman, Wilko, said. Ryson shut his eyes and looked at his feet.

Time: 3 Days, 5 hours, 32 minutes after the Lakota's escape from DS9.

Location: Synchronous orbit of Federation Outpost 419, Vandratz 4

"Mister Wilko, synchronous orbit of the planet. All assault parties, standby for beam in." Ryson ordered. It had take five and a half hours to reach the world under impulse power, the idea being that using warp drives would alert the captured vessel's sensors to a warp capable ship, and the impulse drives wouldn't cause an alert, as the Lakota would possibly register as general system traffic. Ok, so she was a bit big to be a freighter, and most freighters couldn't go toe to toe with a Sovereign class, but it made them all feel better anyway. Ryson tapped a button on the arm of his captain's chair. "Ryson to Jackson, are you ready?" he asked. The response came with noises of last minute weapons and armor checks in the background. "Aye sir, we're all ready to do our part here. We'll maintain an active channel and keep you up to date.