The U.S.S. Dante cut through space, entering Sector 019. Her shields sparked against a micro meteor shower as she flew through space. You couldn't really see them working, not unless you were looking close, but chances were very good that at any given time, the shields were working against some minor threat. The shields were based along the same lines that powered the force fields that were used throughout the Federation. They were used for shielding vessels, containment as well as in prisons and brig's. Even the tractor beam technology was based on that original technology. In these days, one of their more common uses was to enforce quarantines throughout the galaxy. When the Dante pulled into Sector 019 she was a virogen free sector. The virogen virus that was crippling so much of the Federation was half way across the galaxy. The Dante had been patrolling along the Romulan border with Starbase 22 as its Command point.
Now she was on a 4 week leave. She had been on the border patrolling for 38 weeks, and regulations required that they be relieved, and she had been. No one would have complained if they were forced to stay out there. They had all seen what happened to the infected planets, and no one wanted to see it spread any further. The border was strictly patrolled at all times, no commercial vessels in or out. The only ships allowed through were Starfleet supply ships that were carefully scanned as they brought their cargo's in and then left. The scans took 2 days to complete each time so it was slow going, but at least at this point they seemed to be getting the virus under control. There was no cure, but if they could stop the spread they could kill the virus as well. 7 planets had already been completely wiped out, their entire eco systems being turned to mush, along with everything in them. 29 planets were under quarantine. Each system required a fleet of over 40 Starfleet vessels to properly patrol it.
It was not easy to maintain a quarantine. Families were separated. Friends can turn into an enemy at a seconds notice, and a second after that, you are the enemy. Anyone going out had to be extremely careful not to even bring contaminated air through a airlock, or dust on a boot. It would be enough to wipe out a civilization or 2. But the technology was working. Force fields seemed to be effective at stopping the virus from spreading, but once out, it spread like wildfire. Too fast. Once there were reports of an outbreak, it was already too late to save anyone. The patrol ships were making sure that no one got out. The virus was 84 effective, leaving almost no survivors. There were rumors that Starfleet Medical was getting very close to fabricating an anti virus. But until then there was nothing to do but contain. But the Dante's time was up, her crew bound for desperately needed shore leave. She technically was over due, having gone straight from serving as part of the permanent patrol at Deep Space Station 9 during and after the war. Right at the time she would have been called home, she had received word of the horrible news through Starfleet Command, and received orders to report to Starbase 22 and begin a quarantine of the planet Melavasar III, population formerly 122 billion individuals, currently home to a little over 3 billion. There was little for them to do, but when there was something to do, it wasn't ever good. Sometimes, people tried making runs for it and they were forced to destroy the vessel. Once in a while they would surrender, but generally, once they made the decision to run, there was no going back. It was difficult to disable a vessel without killing its occupants, especially when they were desperate. Besides, those people were as good as dead anyways. It made no difference if they were killed out there or were transported back home.
Regulations required them to at least try to disable the ships and they made the effort. They were not animals after all. It was worse at the beginning of the infections, when the quarantines had to be established. Sometimes, a father will have been in a clean zone a few blocks from his family, and then it hits just like that. Starfleet was able to set up quarantines blazingly fast thanks to its incredible communications network. But even that was only so fast. Planets had still been lost and there was nothing anyone could do more of to help those people. But as far as the Dante's crew was concerned, they were all ready for a nice shore leave. Especially after a tour of duty as they had just served. Atalia VII was not usually a vacation destination, but it had quite a few large ports, beaches, shopping, and all the other pleasures people crave. The crew would rotate, two weeks with the first half of the crew down on the planet, then two weeks with the other half of the crew on leave. The Captain was remaining aboard his ship for the first 2 weeks and would then be on forced leave. He much preferred catching up on paperwork and maybe spending some time on the holodeck, but he had been overridden by Chief Medical Officer Takomi. He had received a notice in his inbox 3 days before with the details for his shore leave, all set up by Dr. Takomi. There was nothing to be done about it, so at the very least, he was going to spend the next 2 weeks doing that paperwork. The first thing he did was assign duty stations for the remaining crew and their assignments. There was always work to be done on the ship, and this was as good of a time as any.
After settling in to his cabin, he ordered the computer to play an old film with his favorite star,
Elvis Presley. He loved these movies, these relics of another time. Almost too quickly he was interrupted however. It was Chief Pontialaus. Apparently some of the force fields had been overloading throughout the ship and he was requesting additional workers to help repair all the emitters that were shorting out. He explained that the constant use over the past few months had worn them out a bit faster then usual, but still within standards. The Captain authorized the repairs and turned over to sleep before the next shift. As his eyes closed, the lighting in the spacious cabin dimmed, allowing him to wander off to sleep.
The time passed slowly on the ship when there as nothing to do. Usually the ship was bustling with its crew, numbering 156 souls currently. Even at half staff, the ship was relatively busy. On a ship like this however, one person could effectively control the entire vessel if necessary. It had been known to happen of ships being hijacked through its command codes, and this was a technique that was even taught at the Academy. The story used was the classic Kirk and Kahn story of how Kirk was able to steal the Intrepid right from under his nose with command codes, and then again later when Sabik takes control of the Enterprise to try to breach the outer limits of our universe. Captain Sheppard enjoyed the relative quiet, not having his comm badge constantly chirping at him at all times of the day, but at the same time, he missed it with all his heart. For a week or two it was fine, but his heart belonged commanding this vessel.
Sheppard considered himself lucky that he lived in a time that allowed him to do what he did. He had risen up through the Command ranks, knowing from day one that Command was his beckoning. He had always had a bit of a natural tendency towards leading people, and had been told that since he entered Starfleet. His guidance counselor had urged him into Command, saying that there weren't too many candidates that he said that too. So he had taken the advice, and it had suited him very well. He had risen quickly, and at 38, was one of the youngest captains in the fleet. But a captain was a captain, and he was always treated as such, no initiation rituals or anything like that. Once you are given a ship, you became a different person, the ship and its crew your children, and it consumes you, it becomes you. The Dante was his first command, he had previously served on the Dauntless originally, then when he had made Lieutenant he had been transferred to the Saratoga. He had made X.O. aboard her, before she was destroyed by the Borg at Wolf 3579. That was when he had received the Dante. She was an older ship, but she was his. Her senior crew was handpicked by him, officers he had served with on both of his previous posts, men and women he knew, and trusted with his life. And that was how it worked all throughout Starfleet, it was how Command teams were built.
Left with him on the ship was his pilot, Lieutenant Commander Beller and his Chief of Security, Allamontay. Beller he had served with on the Dauntless, and Allamontay he had been with at both posts. They had gone through the Academy together, both coming from Quebec to San Francisco to attend. He and Lt Cmdr Allamontay were 2 of 17 survivors from the Saratoga. They had both been serving aboard the bridge at the time and had managed to make it to escape pods. The Captain and the rest of the day shift had all died, and out of 65 day shift crewmembers, well, there were 17 that made it out. The Dante had served in the Dominion war under a Captain Motaigne, who had been patrolling in Sector 001, part of the home defensive grid, right over the Mars shipyards. They hadn't seen any action and Montaigne retired peacefully at 90. He had served Starfleet for 70 solid years, Captain for 15 of those years. Sheppard was more then happy with his ship, and wouldn't have traded it for a flagship if offered to him….Well, perhaps a flagship, but certainly nothing less. The first command was like a first love, and when its time to let go, its every bit as hard. Some only have one command in all their service, like Captain Montaigne. Sheppard was on his first and he was very young. For him to only have one command was unlikely, but he would damn well try his best. He would not let this ship go until he was dead, so help him god.
As he had planned he spent most of his time filing reports, some time on the holodeck in different training scenarios, keeping himself ever ready for what may come. Starfleet Captains find themselves thrown into situations in a moments notice, and it paid to be prepared. He loved to white water raft, maybe do some rock climbing. The ship was now crawling with little bots, updating all systems while the ship waited for its human inhabitants to return. This was a new procedure in Starfleet, and it extended the time before a ship had to come in to dry dock for refitting. He barely saw any of the crew as he went from the bridge to the holodeck and back. All was quiet. He had just checked in with Commander Cody and the crew was enjoying themselves on the ground, no incidents reported. On occasion, Starfleet officers were known to get into a bit of trouble, not always their fault, but it happened. Most of the crew was concentrated in one of the major cities, Aloxol, with a few crewmen that had secluded themselves on beaches. Everyone had their communicators with them, so they could be located at anytime, for instance if they received new orders or in case of emergency.
Checking over the reports coming in throughout the galaxy, all available to most of the fleet, he read of two new outbreaks, 1 a colony of about 50,000 people, all dead by the time they were found, and an outbreak on Theta Beron Prime. The planet had under 2 weeks before they were all dead. Starfleet Medical was reporting barely anything new, and it would be months before there was likely to be any true progress with a cure. News was filtering through, if one knew how to spot the signs, of a rather large Romulan force gathering behind its borders, on the pretense of conducting war games. But the amount of supplies and actual troops belayed their true intentions. But the truth was, the Romulans would not be causing any trouble for the simple fact that they were terrified of the Virogen virus crossing into their border. The virus was relatively close as it was, and all it took was one little shuttle breaking the quarantine zone and suddenly your looking at a multi planet outbreak. The Romulans had no need to increase their border security, because it was already maxed out. Whatever they had in reserve was committed to war games or on assignment. Effectively, there was possibly 30 ships that they had available if there was a breakout. And still the vultures eyed Federation space greedily.
Among the reports was a notice for all vessels to maintain their force field emitters at peak capacity, changing them out at the 35 level of degradation, roughly one year under current conditions. He remembered his Chief needing authorization to commit the repairs, and proceeded to check it off before moving on to the next item.
At the end of two week period, the crew began to filter back. Some arrived by transporter, and others in the shuttles that had been taken down. It was a relatively pain free process. By the end of the day, the entire crew had reported back to the ship, safe and secure. They would all spend one night together before the second shift took its 2 weeks. There were a few parties throughout the ship, a poker tournament in the forward galley, all the holodecks were reported in use and there was a general sense of good nature in the air. At about 0400, things began to calm down and the off duty crew made its way off to bed, while most of the day crew made preparations to report in at 0700.
The Captain was asleep in his quarters when he received a priority override comm message from a senior official in the Atalia government. When he managed to rouse himself fully, with a cup of steaming coffee before him from the replicator, he activated his personal comm system. On the screen was the face of the President of Atalia, voted in by the majority of his population. He was a beloved leader and his people came close to worshiping him, not in a divine sense, but under his 28 year rule, his planet had certainly grown prosperous compared to its state beforehand. Before President Amital's rule, the council for approval into the Federation was unable to allow its membership, due to atrocities committed by its government in actions against its own people. After a few years of this, Starfleet Command approved a tacit guerilla unit to help the natives overthrow their rulers, and helped to set them in a democratic system for the benefit of the entire planet. President Amital had been the first President elected to office, and had tried his seemingly hardest to work for the benefit of his people. The fact that they saw any tourists at all out here was credit to two things, the virogen virus limiting travel, and the Presidents hard work to make his planet appealing to a variety of businesses and personal enterprises, which brought with it a bit of tourism.
The President looked terrible, his eyes betraying a terrified look that the Captain had grown to associate with people that feared for their lives. He immediately focused his attention to a razor edge, paying attention to every single word as the President began to speak to him. He started with the fact that there had been reports of a Virogen outbreak on one of the small islands in the southern hemisphere on his planet. There were 32 people already reported dead, having not known they were carriers until it was far too late. The fact that there were dead people indicated that the virus had more then enough time to work its way through the population and they would be seeing casualties within a day or 2. The Captain sat back his mind reeling, unable to fully comprehend he magnitude of the problem that faced it. Then the training kicked in, and not a moment too soon. He quickly checked his chrono and say the time to be 6:54, a.m., local ship time. The bulk of the 2nd shift was due to leave in just a few minutes. He quickly outlined to the President how he should effect a quarantine, and to shut down all transportation aboard the planet effective immediately before ending the call.
Glancing at the chrono again he saw that he had less then 2 minutes now. Inputting his personal command codes, he shut down every single method of leaving the ship, starting with the transporter before locking out controls to all the airlocks and shuttles. He then implanted the emergency procedure that had been established to handle this situation. The ship began broadcasting in every possible way exactly what was happening, and it wouldn't be more then a few moments before Starfleet Command and the Federation council to be aware of the situation.
He then shut this down and accessed the scanners. He established contact with the nearest ship, the Tiburon, which was about 2 days away. A fleet would not be able to arrive for a little under a week, 6 days at the very best. Until then they were stuck here by themselves. They were the only ones on hand, and they would have to be enough, because there was no other choice. The Captain stood and made his way to the bridge. His X.O. was not at his station, but the rest of the senior staff had reported to the bridge. He headed toward his chair and sat, then activated the ships internal comm system. He explained to the crew exactly what had happened, that they were now all carriers of the virus, and they had no choice but to remain quarantined on the Dante while they awaited backup. He then shut down the comm and sat back. An aura of stunned silence filled the bridge. One of the deckhands, and 1st grade ensign collapsed unto the floor, shaking in tears before two of his crewmen dragged him from the bridge unto a turbo lift. The Captain pretended not to notice this all happening, keeping his eyes on the screens arrayed before him, determining the best course of action. If he had time, he would visit the Ensign later, he believed that it had been Ensign Yates, 21, joined them at their most recent supply stop at Starbase 22. He was a raw recruit and was on his first tour. What he had even been doing on the bridge the Captain hadn't the faintest, given that Yates was an engineer, but the crew assignments were all varied at the moment.
Given that, he wondered where his X.O. was. He asked the computer to locate the Commander and was informed that Commander Cody was not aboard the Dante. At the sound of this the Captain felt his heart jump into his throat. The rest of the bridge crew, who had resumed their activities for the moment, again froze at the sound of this. The Captain decided to forego the audio requests and began to tap on the screen attached to the console. Very quickly he came up with the information that a shuttle had been launched moments before he had initiated the lockdown. There were also 14 crewmembers missing from the Dante, most likely aboard the shuttle. He checked the transport logs to confirm that no one had beamed down to the planet before the lockdown. Now he was furious, and a bit terrified at the same time. Things were spinning out of control too quickly to account for all the variables involved, and that led to mistakes being made, and that was simply unacceptable in a situation such as this one. A mistake here meant anywhere from thousands to millions of deaths, and who knew how high the number would climb.
The Captain had precious few seconds to decide what to do, but this was what they trained you for. This was why a person goes into command. Because he feels that he can accept this burden that is the command over so many lives, and the responsibility of what happened being his, and his alone. He had the computer access the onboard LCARS system for the shuttle and turned on its emergency beacon. His comms Lieutenant spoke, telling him he was receiving an emergency call from one of the Dantes shuttles, and it was parked down on the planet below them. The Captain silently cursed. He immediately hailed Cody on his comm badge and received no answer. He accessed the list of missing individuals and began hailing them all one by one. After the first one did not answer the hail, the Captain was fairly certain that none of the others would answer theirs either. This was no coincidence. He locked down the controls to the shuttle, although he was fairly certain that this wasn't going to help the situation. He seemed to be just a minute or two behind everything that was going on and this time he cursed aloud. The hum of the bridge was unaffected, but he could almost feel the crew react. The crew was able to follow exactly what was going on, and now they waited for his orders to proceed.
He began to issue orders, a flurry of them, most of them through his terminal, which would be relayed instantly throughout the ship. The first order was to order the ship into red alert, which sent crewmen scrambling to get the ship ready for combat instead of quarantine mode. The second order was to Sensors, ordering them to begin searching for signs of phaser fire on the surface, and to prepare to plot intercept courses with any vessels trying to break away from the planet. The 3rd, and seemingly irrelevant, was for the LCARS system to do a inventory of all food items and replicator power packs. After these orders were issued, the Captain briefly sat back in his chair, studying the large main display on the bridge, which currently showed the day side of Atalia VII before him, a glowing jewel in the surrounding darkness. One of her 4 moons drifted lazily across the view, leaving a trail of gases unfurling behnd her. The little moon was only barely being kept in its gravity and had developed quite a spin to her, and within a few hundred years it would likely drift away. But these were thoughts for another time, a problem for a different crew perhaps.
As the results for the orders he had issued, results began popping unto his screen. Red alert had been established and all hands were crewing stations. Scans had not resulted in finding signs of any struggles, not with Starfleet phaser fire anyways. Then the damning report came in. The only one of all this that he truly cared about, for it informed as to the intentions of the men and women that had left the ship. There were huge amounts of supplies missing. So much so that the shuttle must have barely been able to hold everything. They had started by raiding the medical stores. There was enough stolen medication to keep those few beings alive for more then a year if properly dosed out. And they had taken enough food to last them for much longer then that. The Captains guess was that they planned to find some little out of the way planet and settle there, at the very least for a few years. This was betrayal of the highest orders. In doing this, they practically condemned the entire planets population merely so they could save themselves. The medicines stolen were the ones specifically used to block the progress of the virogen virus, and there was not to much of it in the Dante's stores. It had all been taken. Down to the last vial. There had been enough to save at least a few major cities, likely until the Tiburon would arrive.
The Tiburon was Captained by Shelly Alvarez, a pretty thing if there ever was one among Starfleet Captains. Not that he would ever dare say that aloud. He respected her utterly. She had been a Captain for 12 years already, and she had been the on to pick him up in his life pod at Wolf 359. Under any other circumstances, their paths crossing would be a joyful occasion, but now, it would be deathly serious. He doubted there would be any chance for personal meetings, and he was already resigning himself to the fact that his command might be coming to a close much sooner then he had expected. This was not at all a given, and he would die before he gave up. And he would most certainly not allow these fucking cowards to escape. And goddamned if he wasn't going to get that medication back as well.
At that moment his personal comm screen lit up. It was from a private comm system, which meant it most likely was coming from a ship within very close range, hence the planet. He activated the screen and was confronted by the haggard face of his X.O.. His former X.O. he should say. He shut down the line and went into his cabin before reactivating the connection. His X.O. immediately began speaking, explaining how a few days in to the vacation a few of the officers had noticed the symptoms. They had all been at one of the local bars when they began discussing it, and they had all too quickly realized what was going on. They realized it was already too late for them if they didn't act immediately. Once you began to display symptoms you had perhaps 12-24 hours to live, depending on the case. They had accessed the central computer system for the planet and had found one of the only stores of Dylipithium, the drug that was able to at least slow the virus. This bought them they needed to figure out the rest of their plan. They had seen what happened in the quarantines before. They knew what was about to happen here. They also knew that triage wise, they were likely to be the first ones to go once the rationing began. They were going to try to save as many people as possible, and you needed a lot less of the drug to immunize then to actually hold of the virus. The immunization would last a few days at most, but it would be more then enough to save the population….that had not been infected. For those that were infected however, their times were already up. They were walking talking dead people. There was nothing that could be done. Sometimes, there is just nothing to be done. Hence the term triage. Commander Cody finished there, looking as though he was waiting to be berated by his Captain for his actions. He seemed ashamed.
The Captain informed the Commander that if he intended to leave the surface he would have to fight his way through the Dante then ended the chat. He got up and made his way back out on to the bridge. He sat down and eyed the expressions of those around him. His helmsman and navigator were cautiously trying to read his face from in front of him as they went about their duties, and the feeling behind him felt frozen. The chair to his right was empty, his X.O.'s. To his left was tactical, and there was a tired looking 2nd shift ensign frantically networking with sensors to try to target anything trying to get off the planet. Now that he looked at it, everyone that was on the bridge was exhausted, all having recently finished their post leave activities. That had been his own fault, he had been too lenient. But a Captain tends to bend regulations for the crew here and there, it was almost a necessity. The crew needed to be able to relax to function well, but at the same time, be kept on the razor sharp edge to function perfectly.
The Captain wiped his mind clean and once again began inputting orders into the station. The Dante came about and began a quick tight powered loop around the planet. At 4 points it dropped mobile phaser emitters that could be activated from the Dante. They were not powerful enough to stop anything of decent size with a set of Mark II shields. But anything coming off of that planet wouldn't be that large, and unless it was military would not be properly equipped, so they had a prayer. Moving the vessel to the outer rim of the system, the ship began dropping sensor transponders that could also transmit override command codes to many types of vessels. The problem was, it seemed that his X.O. had planned this out very well. In landing back on the planet they had betrayed that they had some other form of transportation set up. All the public transportation off the planet had been shut down, and they were now as prepared as they could make themselves.
Captain Adam Sheppard sat back in his command chair, ensconced in the small command deck in the center of the bridge. Now was the first chance he had to think about his crews actions during this crisis. Through the screen to his right he ordered a Turkish coffee from the galley, and less then 2 minutes later a yeoman made his way unto the bridge with a small steaming cup on a saucer, then placed it on the small ready table to his left. The captain lifted the cup to his lips and was instantly taken back to his childhood in the Saudi Emirates as a child. His father had been an ambassador there, after all this time on Earth, professions like his fathers were sometimes still needed on planet. He had loved the culture there, and he had felt it prepared him better for the various cultures you meet when you join Starfleet. He brought himself back to the present and began analyzing Cody's actions. When Starfleet allowed a Captain to build his or hers command crew, they made a few decisions themselves as well, usually inserting someone foreign to the chosen command crew in place for the X.O.. The reasoning behind this was to keep everyone on their toes, and it seemed to generally work. Within a year or so the commander is fully integrated into the crew and it makes little matter anyways. Commander Drake Cody had fit in instantly. He was a likable character and having him on any away mission guaranteed it wouldn't be boring. They had been serving together for over 2 years, since he had taken over the Dante. He had never had a single issue with him, and if someone had told him prior that this would happen, he would have a great deal of trouble believing it. Most Starfleet officers would have just immediately reported the symptoms an d waited for the inevitable lockdown. Chances were high that they would die, but the chances were just as high that they would have saved millions of lives. Now the stats were not looking good for the population down on the planet. They were looking at a 84 fatality rate when everything was said and done. Whomever survived, chances are this planet would have to be evacuated. The million or so that were left would not have any ecology or infrastructure to help them, and they would be completely reliant on Federation assistance. This was an indigenous species they were speaking about, a species that had evolved naturally on this planet, and they would now have to be uprooted to some planet that didn't even have a name, halfway across the galaxy, where they couldn't even see their native constellations.
The comms Lieutenant spoke, piercing the relative silence on the bridge. There was a shuttle breaking orbit with one of the moons of the outer planet Ataliar VI. The Captain cursed and quickly pulled up the sensor logs. A careful scan showed that the impulse trail that had been left leading down to Atalia had been faked. The real trail led directly to the moon, where they had remained. The Dante was moving to intercept at full impulse. On the monitor before him he saw the status of the shuttle, just patched into his screen by the sensors station. The little shuttle was overloading its warp engines, mixing matter and anti matter without engaging the dilithium matrix. In effect, it was like revving an engine and then suddenly flooring the gas. Except most times, especially in a small vessel such as this shuttlecraft, it would just result in the reactor overloading.
Things moved very quickly at this point, relative to all the sitting around that everyone had been doing for the past week. The Captain ordered tactical to open fire with phasers and take out the shuttles shields and engines before they could engage. At the same time the shuttle accelerated to Warp 7.5 in an instant. The phaser beams that splayed from the Dante nicked the side of the shuttles right reactor and sent it into a vicious tumble. As soon as the Captain saw that the shuttle was managing to proceed through warp he immediately audibly ordered the conn into pursuit. The Dante jumped into warp 4 in a flash of speed and light, her engines a flare of light in the main engineering deck that housed the warp core. The Dante was built for speed, a picket ship, and she could move get up to speed faster then anything of her size in known space. At 100,00 kilometers behind the shuttle, he manually put in the order for an array of torpedoes to be fired. A few seconds later, 3 pulsating, crimson spheres emerged from the Dante and begin pursuing the shuttle, but a few thousand kilometers away they simply dropped off their pursuit, their glows dimming and then darkening.
The Captain quickly understood what had happened, that Cody had used his command override to shut down the torpedoes. He was quickly running out of options and he was growing so anxious he actually stood from his command chair and began to pace the deck in front of him, studying everything while he took a few precious moments to think. He took one last look around his bridge, eyeing his crewmen before he sat down. He shifted his panel a bit closer and tried to get comfortable. He pulled up the transmitters on the edge of the system and checked their status to make sure they were functioning. He quickly pulled up the list of personnel command codes and inputted his own manual sequence to gain access to the LCARS network. He pulled up Commander Cody's entire access network, everything that he could possibly do in the Dante, and simply erased it. Simple as that. He was the Captain, and the senior officer aboard, and the Dante's computer acknowledged it. He sat back and eyed the huge monitor in the front of the bridge, counting down the kilometers. 3 minutes later they passed the mark and the shuttle continued to fly. A few curses were heard about the bridge from men and women focused just as intently on their monitors as their Captain. But the Captain had not actually expected it to work. The shuttle was a civilian one, and it was relatively easy to lock out any foreign networks if you knew what you were doing. And that was most likely what they had done with their time while hiding. At this point, both vessels were traveling at Warp 9.675 respectively, the small shuttle maxed out, while the Dante had been known to cross Warp 9.8755. Unfortunately, at this speed weapons were useless, phasers having no chance of reaching their target, and torpedoes simply could not sustain that speed. So the Dante herself was the only weapon left available to him. The Captain took a sip of the cold coffee at his table and then sat back again. He pulled up the order branch for the helmsman and plotted a new course, taking all of a few seconds. He sent it over to the conn, who's Lieutenant, who was intent as it was on keeping the Dante on her course, brought his head up and around to establish eye to eye contact with the captain, who simply nodded his head slightly.
Lieutenant Erin Tobias had only served aboard the Dante for a few months, a 2nd shift pilot. The first time he had sat at the conn of a ship he had practically had an orgasm. The sheer power of it. And now, he was being asked to perform a once in lifetime maneuver. Occasions such as this happened rarely, and he wasn't going to fail his Captain. He coaxed more speed from Engineering, sending down a message to Chief Mathins, also the 2nd shifter in charge in Engineering. He quickly explained what was going on and why he needed the power, and a few moments later watched the speed again climb. He then focused on his task, aiming the Dante right behind the shuttle.
The Captain issued an audio order on the ships intercom about 15 seconds before the impact warning all hands to brace for impact. Lieutenant Tobias didn't even hear it, in his own universe. When the Dante hit the shuttle, she hit with her forward saucer section. The shuttle lost warp and immediately collided with the right warp nacelle of the Dante, wiping out both the shuttle and the nacelle, also sending the Dante into an uncontrollable high warp tumble before Chief Mathins and Lieutenant Tobias at the Conn were able to bring the ship out of warp and stable. When They finally stopped, red alarms blaring, smoke in the air, casualties being counted, reports began to filter up that 4 decks had been exposed to vacuum and 43 crewmen had lost their lives. The warp engines were shot to shit and would have to be completely replaced , not to mention the actual nacelle. With things being the way they were, they would be a year in dry-dock getting repairs. But for now, she limped back to the Antaris system on her impulse engines, to hold the fort until back up arrived.
1 week later the Tiburon arrived, having pushed her engines until they had almost burnt out. Her engineers were frantically working to make her warp capable again in case of emergency. The Dante had just begun running low on supplies when the Tiburon had shown up. If not for the sacrifice of those engines, perhaps another 3 or 4 million life forms would have been extinguished. Every precious minute counted and Captain Alvarez had walked the fine line between burning out the engines and pushing them as far as they would go. Right when they had entered the system and shut down the drive, a whole section of power relays had turned into an indistinguishable metal slag and had to be cut out with fusion cutters and then replaced, a manually tedious job that would take weeks. In the meantime, the Tiburon remained in stationary orbit above Atalia VII keeping a vigil while shipping down supplies. The emitter that had failed had been identified and not only had its back up sensor not reported it, but the secondary backup had failed as well, a one in a billion chance. Back on Earth, at Starfleet Corps. of Engineers, they were analyzing the problem and blame would be handed down any day for the failure in the mechanics. But all this was merely semantics. The fact of the matter was that the human toll here was high, unnecessarily high. You could point blame up a chain, but at this point, the chain would just end up leading to a virus, and in the end, you couldn't hold anyone accountable for that.
Captain Sheppard was himself feeling the effects of the virogen, as was his crew. But they were managing, staying on the edge of life and death through constant maintenance. If they did not receive injections every few hours they would die, painful deaths. But they had enough, barely, as long as the rest of the incoming fleet made it here in time. Word was spreading quietly throughout command, and he wasn't sure whether to believe it or not. The informal messages going through the net in the command network were saying that Admiral James T Kirk had somehow returned from death, and along with Captain Jean Luc Picard, Captain of the current Enterprise, the E, the 7th of the space going Enterprises, had somehow found a cure, in some obscure Klingon herb, and they had turned over the information to Starfleet Medical. Leaks, posts from Dr's working in the higher echelons of Medical were saying they were expecting a cure within a few days at most. He wasn't quite sure what to make of all this, but somehow it really didn't surprise him. It would seem that of all people, a figure such as Kirk would be the one who not only comes back from the dead, but actually saves the Galaxy as well. Not that he was complaining. He was still due for his leave, as a rather abrupt message from Medical on Earth informed him, and while the Dante would be making repairs at the Alta Planitia Shipyards orbiting Mars, he would be able to visit his parents and his home for some relaxation. But he was a very different man, as was much of the crew. No longer did they see their fellow crewmen with the same open trust they once had. It seemed that once the door's were opened, no one was safe, that your best friend would certainly one day turn a phaser on your back. And yet somehow, the ship must function, and only time would help those wounds, as it always did. When the crew reported back for duty in 11 months, there would be 57 new crewmen, new faces to remember, names to learn, people to meet and grow with. And perhaps lose again. For their endeavor was not a safe one. Space travel, and colonization were very risky, and everyone out here knew that. Any of the crew members who wished could resign at anytime, and yet the statistics showed that of Starfleet officers leaving, not including retirement, was less then one percent total, since the inception of the Starfleet charter within the Articles of the Federation.