What's in a Name?
Preparation
By Tremor3258
Author's Note: Set after my prompt for ULC 9 – Old Flame, and "Uneasy Allies", shortly before the Iconian War starts. An'riel is my Fed-aligned Romulan science character. This is assuming about two years from Virinat to the Iconian War
The Elachi reputation one was of ruthlessness, without remorse or sound, the silent predator around the edges of civilization, slowly subsuming entire worlds. This was entirely true. However, it is far easier to be silent in space.
With a crack that thundered across dozens of kilometers of open air, a subspace rift tore open the ever-bright sky of the Solanae sphere. Diamond shaped Elachi ships poured through, aimed at the vast spire structure, surrounded by stardocks, which served as the primary shipyards of Dyson Command.
A tiny fraction of the Sphere's industrial potential, they were more than sufficient to allow the Republic to vault itself back to superpower status, meeting its commitments to the defense of the Rihannsu colonies. If there'd been dilithium spontaneously generating instead of Omega particles in the Sphere, the KDF and Starfleet would have certainly opened additional yards as well. But even with that logistic issue, the yards were large enough to supply the entire Delta Rising operation's maintenance requirements, while still maintaining the Republic fleet and the still-ongoing exploration operations in the Sphere itself, which would take millennia to explore completely.
This incredible treasure trove was the merest fraction of the embattled Sphere's technology and potential, from one of the Iconians' puppets. The Elachi's mission was an obvious opening move to the Milky Way invasion – prevent more secrets of their dread masters' technology falling into the hands of the Alliance, cut the link between the Alpha/Beta and Delta Quadrants, and shatter as many advanced ships and crews as possible before their governments could rally.
The picket ships on the outer line fell back, prepared to deal with a Voth raid, but the pickets would simply be vaporized against a full fleet. They passed energy and torpedo turrets which awoke to hurried bursts of communication. Automated and (Turing test confirmed) non-sapient, they would blankly and robotically give their lives to buy time to organize.
The Elachi's bizarre crescent-wave disruptors began to launch range-attenuated scythes of energy as torpedoes in the Alliance's three favorite flavors began to leave their tubes, the energy- weapon turrets programmed to wait for a better hit chance at closer range, shields flaring slightly to defend against the ionization of plasma torpedoes strung towards the angular enemy ships, along with the sonic booms of photon and quantum torpedoes being launched in thin atmosphere.
That's when the second phase of the operation became apparent. Small spherical probecraft, long a minor irritant in the Sphere, decloaked around the outer turret line, using months of signal intelligence to launch electronic warfare packages into the energy turret software. Some simply exploded under Iconian worms, others were confused into targeting their neighbors, and opened up with a scattering of energy bolts into the turrets still firing at the approaching fleet. Between the fratricide and the Elachi approach, the dockyards' outer defenses fell far faster than expected by Alliance planners.
It did, however, still take and give expert systems and living beings the chance to recover from surprise. The primary defense reserve gathered and swung around to meet the Elachi, a primarily Republic contingent that cloaked into fuzzy invisibility. Running lights flickered on across the shipyard, as ships in stages of construction or repair brought themselves to life. Some, many still-skeletal, living and power modules hung within a framework lacking armor plating headed towards the gateway. Others, showing the scars of their time in the Delta Quadrant, limped to join them.
Others, such as two Astika-class battlecruisers being dissected to evaluate what had been done to them, and, more importantly, where by the Iconians to make the Vaadwaur such a threat had their scuttling charges set. With their structural integrity fields down, they broke easily, pieces being oriented to plummet towards the Sphere's surface hundreds of kilometers below.
The rest though, deemed 'good enough' by the dockyard moved to join the battle. The closest to the attack line, one of the newer destroyers, awoke and slid from its moorings. Its battle cloak smoothly masked against the atmospheric eddies as blast waves propagated from the dying turrets, and the probes showed no reaction until it reached close range and dropped the cloak.
Its navigational deflectors shone as it used those very powerful projectors, combined with the fine control of the long-range sensors mounted behind, to tell physics to shut up and get in line. With a scream that would resonate in bone, the fabric of space fell into subspace, an aberration in the universe. The probes, caught in its midst, found their power levels falling rapidly as bright blue and white energy fire sprayed from the destroyer.
The Elachi, without comment, continued their work to break the rest of the static defenses. The probes did not back away, though they began to scatter to try and escape into space with more expected physical laws. From their featureless surfaces, antiproton beams lanced out, and the destroyer's shields began to flare as it struggled to dissipate the energy.
With a hum, the proton cannons emblematic of the class deployed themselves, increasing the weight of firepower while the probes were still crippled. As the secondary deflector was forced to seal itself against backscatter, the subspace and energy fields that gave the ship its wings reconfigured, maneuverability improving as the hole punched through for the secondary deflector's signals sealed itself.
Normal enough for the Dyson series, but this one had not yet undergone shakedown. Its shield grid, equipped with additional optimizations over the base design, had small spots where they heterodyned unexpectedly with the EM fields of the impulse engines, weakening coverage. Installation of the ship's energy-disbursement system into banks of heavy neturonium plating was not yet finished, and software from the tactical systems had not been optimized. The probes antiproton beams quested out and found such a weak spot, slicing through the shielding and into the hull, unmitigated by defensive plating or reinforcements to structural integrity.
A tremendous thunderbolt, followed by lighting followed as the ship scattered and lurched, one of the major plasma conduits to its nacelles blown in a haze of gamma radiation. Lights flickered across the hull as EPS grounded itself. The nacelle went dark as the ship swung around, listing. The Tyken's Rift collapsed back into normalcy as the ship's power died. Escape pods began to separate from the ship, but there was little time remaining.
The follow-up antiproton barrage found scant resistance as the ship collapsed inward, its singularity containment failing as the black hole at its heart raced out of control. The Elachi, their first objective completed, gliding whisper-quiet to join the probes as the attack on the dockyard continued, detaching a single frigate to collect the lifepods for a grim fate.
Admiral An'riel tel'Riessei seh'Virnat leaned back in her chair as the simulation finished, still taking notes, and paying no attention to the stunned silence around her as, at the central holoviewer, the bridge crew watched their last few moments of life play out. She needed to evaluate her own performance before commenting – the Solanae 'radial' design was significantly different than the usual bridge layout on warbirds. She was hoping it would reveal some insight into the species, so had declined when the engineers had offered to swap the bridge modules.
Useful it may prove, but right now she really was missing having armrests. She wasn't sure what that said about Solanae physiology, but it was annoying to hers. The heavily holographic controls did show some real advantages once you got used to them, and she was able to finish collating her notes on bridgecrew reactions to timestamps during the short combat simulation quickly.
The bridge crew was silent, even Jalel, who while polite and a good security officer, was Federation and (from scuttlebutt she'd gathered) talkative by Trill standards. She stood up, the chair retracting as she did so to survey the room. Even crew had been with her since Virinat were rigid at their seats, paying scrupulous attention to what few readouts were active.
"That was well done, my children," An'riel said standing. "We have successfully fixed the cloak interaction issues that were previously an issue, and holographic simulations did not show the spot overloads of last time. Congratulations are in order to our engineering staff." The Ulhans that were subbing the engineering posts smiled cautiously.
She walked forward and stood by the holographic viewscreen, resting a hand on the console, and took a moment to observe the singularity that marked their passing. After a beat, she tapped a control, switching it back to its default Master Systems Display readout. Large sections still showed dark, but she smiled broadly and tapped a control zooming in on the nacelles, and then gestured into the pylon area which had been ripped open in their recent holographic test.
"In spite of the issues during the mission, I have excellent news – the plasma conduits have completed the dockyard testing cycle and our warp coils reached maximum load under external power. Our warp nacelles have been approved by the dockmaster, and that was the last major system, besides the singularity core installation," she said, with a nod to Tovan. He'd been running tactical and the stream of dockyard reports during simulation, and he deserved every credit she could give.
She turned and looked around, still playing it up a bit. Honestly, they all deserved credit for how hard they had been working. She had the honor of captaining many ships in the rapidly-expanding Republic Navy, but this was the first one they were receiving direct from the dockyard, instead of second-hand courtesy of the Imperial Navy. And a shakedown cruise after a refit, An'riel had found, was much easier than newly assembled. Even with half again their own compliment from the dockyard assisting, they were being worked to the bone.
An'riel began pacing around the console, and pitched her voice louder, "I know we have not had as much time as we should, but we all know why time is running out. You have honored the Republic, and myself, more than we can ever repay over the last two years. We are alive, and our colonies free, thanks to your tremendous efforts, and the crews like yourselves." She stopped, and smiled, "Perhaps not quite as capable as yourselves, but close." There were a few obligatory chuckles.
"Every moment we have to act is thanks to sheer hubris on the part of the demons of air and darkness. We are Rihannsu, we are Reman, and we will thank them for showing us their weaknesses with all our people's ferocity!" She stopped, adjusting the controls, showing the areas still inactive within the hull, "We know the legacy of our people. We know the crimes we have committed and absolved under the Republic, and the crimes the demons led our people to. We will not let it happen again. We will not be slaved, and the blade we are tempering here will be the one driven into their black hearts!" she finished, shouting, sweating slightly from the exertion.
She wasn't sure how the majority of crews would respond. Her friends, her children in common parlance as her crew members, did not break into song or cheers perhaps how Klingon crews, or the shouts of a Terran-majority crew. They stood however, with the classic salute of the grand days of the Senate, long enough that treachery had risen to glory, hand on chest. She stood still and returned, turning to face each corner of the room.
"We will try again in several hours," she said, speaking conversationally again. "Jalel, you have the bridge for now – we are doing well on the schedule, but I have a few things to discuss. Keep the emphasis on mobility and defense systems for bringing on line. Tovan, meet me at my office in ten minutes please." Her old friend and exec nodded, and turned to his console. They were battling paperwork as much as mechanical faults.
Jalel rose from his substation to take the command chair. An'riel stood by it, speaking quietly. "Well done running the opposition, and I apologize for not mentioning your race as well in that." It had been a bit of a modification from one of the old epics calling for unity after the landing on ch'Rihan and the tragic civil wars that had followed, but An'riel always tried to steal from the best.
"I understand, sir. That's why most of my captains just use 'human' as a shorthand." An'riel rolled her eyes. Terrans. Jalel waved his hand to refocus his superior, over the hazy tactical map he'd been using to run the Elachi strike. "It didn't take much to manage, it was one of the big fleet-grade simulations they've been running here at Dyson Command," the Trill explained. Apparently, Jalel followed the same philosophy on what to steal.
"Regardless," An'riel said, "My compliments to Captain Rel and the Harriman for their data feed again." The two exchanged taut smiles. This was the fourth day of their 'worst-case' tactical simulations, with the Iconians having perfect knowledge of their ship's weaknesses and how to strike at the Alliance's data networks. A simulation as only as good as its data, however, and so Captain Rel had generously agreed to have the sensor drones on his Scryer-class practice by performing an in-depth tactical analysis of their little instance of a Caprimul.
"I'll send that on," Jalel promised, "He's grateful for the opportunity to fine-tune his sensors. Deep-scans of a Republic ship, even in drydock, are worth bragging rights back on Andor."
An'riel pulled up a file from the ship's databanks, "If he starts getting too boastful about getting one over… send this file over on your next message." Jalel grinned. An'riel wouldn't send over anything too harmful, but in this case cross-culturally, honor was honor. "In the meantime, Fabricator 14 claims to be done with the modifications to core containment. Alert Veril and D'vex, so they can start closing up engineering. Then maybe we can fix these shield grid issues."
An'riel left the bridge after a few more rounds of instruction on the minutia of a ship in spacedock. She had only herself to blame, but being in the tan, more traditional tones of the barracks depth was relieving. The Solanae sections, with their dark alloys and unusual color scheme… she kept expecting something to ambush her.
There was the other thing, which was small and probably old-fashioned, that kept the ship from feeling like a home. She still hadn't come up with a name for the ship. It wasn't on any active honor lists yet, so it wasn't a concern for Admiral Kererek, but it was becoming noticeable to the crew. Elements knew the ship was having different teething problems every few hours, so it clearly didn't really know herself either yet.
She passed crew after crew inspecting auxiliary systems, or finishing installing primaries. The spaceframe had been under construction for over a year, but at a slow pace. She'd enjoyed the brief stint in the Dyson prototype, and the idea of an upgrade to a ship with similar sensors, more flexibility, and the ability to cloak next to the surface of the sun was intriguing. So she'd asked the Fleet if it was possible to get assigned to one of the 'destroyers'.
Current fleet nomenclature listed destroyers as support ships for large fleet formations, able to aid the big battlecruisers by heavy point defense, and turning the tide for escort squadrons by rapidly collapsing their typically-weak shields. The Dysons had gotten slapped with 'science destroyer' as a result of their flexibility, cramming in advanced sensor arrays and heavy armament into the same hull, though not at the same time unless you wanted to burn out both systems at once.
The downside to highly flexible systems, good maneuverability, heavy forward firepower, and sturdy hulls, besides being intensive and expensive to build, was that they were designed for one fleet engagement, feeding off the stores of larger ships, and then limping to a support yard instead of being repaired in the field. The Solanae Sphere's technology made the logistical issues less pressing for the Dysons, but with the risk of being stranded in the Delta Quadrant, fleet had decided they were too short-ranged for An'riel's assignment with Intelligence to look for signs of Iconians in the Delta Quadrant.
Instead, she'd gotten assigned to one of the huge modern, if not cutting-edge Advanced Warbirds, loaded with Tholian gear tuned for spatial distortions to make up for a less-flexible and powerful sensor suite. The blazing tetryon signature it left all over the place also served to 'explain' any remnants left from the very bleeding-edge Faeht-class warbird that was the other half of her assignment. It was about as small as a singularity-driven ship could be and prone to shaking itself apart. But the Republic could hide its maintenance requests in the paperwork for the Tempestuous Kestrel, feeling if even Delta Command didn't know it was there, then certainly their enemies didn't.
Meanwhile, the R.R.W. To-be-determined continued to exist in potentia. Plenty of room existed in the Sphere to just leave it around as a spaceframe with an antigrav generator or two, while its large subsystems were worked on when time allowed. Since they were just hanging around, the larger systems had been easy to upgrade with the latest results of the technology exchanges between the powers.
Which unfortunately meant that the systems hadn't been looked at as parts of a whole system when upgraded, and they weren't quite showing the promised synergetic benefits yet, which was a polite way of saying the systems were almost warring with each other since they'd started being installed.
She reached her office, tapping regretfully the box of mementos from previous commands and adventures that she hadn't even had a chance to sort yet. There were a lot of things waiting to be done, unfortunately. A simple milk run to the colonies in Psi Valorum had managed to end with the Iconians jumping a Sphere into local space so their long-anticipated invasion could begin. That left only the priorities. She shook herself.
She tapped a screen, displaying the careful efforts of installing the singularity core, a sphere wrapped in layers of physical shielding, and surrounded by distinctly Solanae looking pillars, from a feed taken from the dock. Surrounded by tractor beams and antigrav drones, it was being lowered through its own emergency ejection port.
"Computer, prepare additional log entry," she ordered. Her desk beeped at her in anticipation. "Shipmaster's log - all major systems have been installed except the primary core, though all power converters and secondary systems have passed checks. Systems continue to show minor conflicts, though my crew has once again shown they are one of the best of the fleet as optimization continues at a heavy pace. They have once again born up under a heavy burden, which I pray will see relief before the attack all expect occurs."
"Privately – I have grave concerns about the installation of the singularity core. While the Republic Navy is the master of applied gravity systems, the Solanae-derived technology was empowered originally by either Omega particle interactions or conventional dilithium-moderated warp cores. While our EPS systems are very similar, the technology has had to be adapted further to match the system physical dimensions of our engine rooms compared to the changes to adapt to Starfleet or Klingon warp cores, and I expect further problems with the accelerated schedule."
"And, though my crew has come through admirably, the ship requires time for us to become truly comfortable with her and learn what she can do when pushed to her limits. However, I feel more strongly than a year ago that this ship will be required through the flames to come." She finished, feeling a bit more centered, and sat down to confirm her department heads' reports and keep the wheels of bureaucracy turning.
End Part 1