Notes:
This story represents the point at which I diverged from the Main STO storyline. When I discovered that New Dawn was going to delve into the shambles that is the temporal cold war, I had a good think about where I wanted to go as I consider time travel to be a lazy and dangerous plot device if overused. Midnight was well done, but I'm happy enough to leave it at that.
Thankfully, Cryptic just loves leaving plot threads hanging loose instead of sewing them in, so I'm pulling a few to see how far they unwind.
Black Sunrise
Stardate 94828.29: November 6th, 2415
Squadron 743 Leader's log. Task Force 7 has been sent to Battle Group Omega and is being assigned tasks in that area of space, with a view to assessing the impact of the Borg incursion and their conflict with the Undine. Although strategic focus has shifted to the Alpha Quadrant due to skirmishes with forces from the so-called 'Mirror Universe' and some kind of run-in with the Tholians, we also need to know whether the Collective's intentions for this area of space have changed, or even whether they are still here at all.
We know that the Undine destroyed entire assimilated planets in retaliation for a Borg invasion of fluidic space and that the Borg have been engaging the Voth in the rimward Delta Quadrant. However, we have been too absorbed in other conflicts to properly look after this region, 4 sectors known collectively as Gamma Orionis, in recent times.
Our destination is the Sibiran System, the site of the former Starbase 82. In 2412, elements of BGO clashed here with a Borg invasion fleet being led by an underqueen created using the body of former Starfleet captain Rebecca Simmons. BGO scout ships have shown no movement here since, but with the Borg, that doesn't necessarily mean much.
Stephen engaged squadron comms. "All ships, go to yellow alert." Stephen ordered as they approached the edge of the system. "Slow to warp 1 when we hit the termination shock and then full impulse at the orbit of Sibiran VI. I don't want any surprises."
Once the squadron had dropped to sublight speed, Stephen ordered a formation with the science ships at the forefront in order to scan the system and pinpoint the battle site. Scanning the system was easy – there was little in the way of interference, natural or otherwise. Finding the battle site however, was proving to be something of an issue.
The Orobas' ops officer turned to Stephen with a furrowed brow. "Sir, I can see no evidence of a battle having taken place here. There is no debris field and traces of weapons fire would long since have dissipated."
"Confirmed." Put in Lt Commander Boughmer from the science station. "Given the size of the Borg fleet that was destroyed here, which included a tactical cube and at least three standard cubes, the debris field should be sizeable. I'm not picking up anything much bigger than my fist at this range."
Stephen rubbed his chin reflectively. "Well, let's get to the site and see what we can see with our own eyes. It wouldn't be the first time scavengers have picked a battlefield clean and somewhere along the line the Borg learned how to clean up after themselves as well."
The site of the old battle was empty. Though the BGO ships destroyed that day had been towed away not long after, there had been an entire palisade-class starbase with a crew of around 2000, a borg transwarp gate, as well as the wreckage of several dozen Borg vessels of various classes that had been left behind. Someone had been very thorough in removing it. Scavengers could not have taken everything; they tended to take only those pieces with most value as they often lacked capacity. The Ferengi could be likewise ruled out – this was more than 150 light years out of their territory and the flow of borg alloys through their markets would have been quickly picked up.
Stephen brought up a 3D display of the system and had it divide into three equal parts, before engaging squadron comms and sending the diagram to the other ships. "Split into three groups of four with a science ship in each and comb the entire system. Something about this makes me uneasy." He turned to his comms officer. "Send a message to Admiral Mauris on the Vacal. Looks like we'll need to get a dedicated science ship with an elite sensor package here."
It would probably be a day before such a ship would be dispatched, let alone arrive, so the squadron criss-crossed the system through the rest of that day and on into beta and gamma shifts, with no result. Stephen had awoken to a message from Mauris that an Oracle Class Deep Space Science Vessel and an Escort were on their way. Another message, from Lyssyn, had proposed the possibility that the Undine had carted the wreckage away to be transmuted into the biomatter that they used to create their 'ships', which were in fact living organisms. This was actually a fairly strong possibility. With no real beachhead outside of fluidic space, wreckage from bigger fights such as the battle of Sibiran would have been good targets for the Undine if they were looking to repair and replenish their forces in our level of space. They were also one of the few groups capable of mopping up the area so thoroughly.
That said, however, there had clearly been little to no movement in the system for at least a year. It was highly likely that the system would have its quarantine lifted based on the reports of Stephen and whoever the CO of the science ship happened to be. Not that the system had any real features of note as far as colonization was concerned and any mining (which is what the starbase had been here to ascertain) and other commercial interests might have been available were so far off shipping lanes decimated by the Iconian war that it would make no logistical sense in the short term.
Stephen was snapped out of these thoughts by a chime from his terminal. A flashing red light indicated that the message was in real time and was not from one of his own squadron. Curious, Stephen acknowledged the message and the face of a Zakdorn Lt Commander appeared on the screen. His uniform had the white shoulders of a commanding officer, indicating he was probably in command of a smaller vessel – likely a BGO scout ship like a Nova or one of its ilk.
"Go ahead, commander." Stephen said.
"Sir, I'm about to patch you through to Admiral Mauris. We've got ships spaced at regular intervals all the way back to BGO, so whatever he has to say, it seems to be urgent."
"Patch him through."
The Zakdorn nodded to somebody off screen, and his face was replaced by that of Stephen's direct superior.
Stephen, brow furrowed, asked "Sir, is there a problem?"
"Possibly." Mauris answered. "The Calbriden System has gone dark."
"Calbriden... isn't that the system where Delta Flight took out that Solanae installation?"
"Yes, but with resources being stretched so thin, we were never able to get a salvage flotilla into the system to disassemble and tow away the wreckage. It looks likely that someone else has taken an interest." Mauris elaborated.
"The Star Empire perhaps?" Stephen mused. "This is pretty close to what used to be their territory."
"Doubtful. Sela herself was heard to state that the Star Navy doesn't have the means or time to get out this far any more and that's been backed up by both their command and Republic Intelligence. We can't rule out the Tal Shiar though."
Stephen was puzzled, "Why not? What would make them look different to Imperial Forces at long range?"
Mauris exhaled. "Before the system went completely dark we got a couple of seconds of what looked like Borg transwarp signatures. I don't need to tell you that the Tallies have always had a thing for repurposing Borg tech. With that mentality, Iconian hardware might be too tempting to ignore, even if it is twisted wreckage."
"Shit."
"Shit indeed. Admiral Desyox has ordered the wing to Calbriden and is mustering some non-NFT ships. You are to get here at best speed as soon as the Seranath arrives. Rendezvous point should already be with your conn officers."
"Understood. We'll get there ASAP."
"Look forward to seeing you. Mauris, out." And the screen went blank. Stephen pressed a finger to the button labelled 'hail squadron' on the holo-display projected above his desk. One by one, the faces of his 11 COs appeared on the projection.
"Prime your QSDs, everyone. We're off to Calbriden."
"Reason?" Targrel asked.
"Well... it could include but not be limited to the Tal Shiar, the Solanae, the Iconians and the Borg. You know, the usual suspects."
"So what about our orders here?" inquired Amber Stewart
"The Seranath will be relieving us. According to the ship database she's equipped with a QSD so should be here within the next couple of hours."
When the Seranath and its escort (ships were not allowed to travel alone in this area of space) had arrived and the handover had been completed, the squadron had cleared the system and engaged slipstream, Stephen decided it might be prudent, having ordered the captains under his command to study the logs from Delta Flight's mission in the system, to study them himself. The basic rundown was that around a dozen ships had entered the system , weaved their way through the debris of a planet that the Heralds had destroyed, repelled some boarding parties that had infiltrated the USS Bern and destroyed a small Herald fleet guarding some sort of installation, followed by the installation itself.
The Installation in question had reportedly been some kind of subspace inverter that would have allowed the Solanae and their fleet to survive in normal space. There was next to no intel on the capabilities of either, and no projections had been drawn on the what-ifs, but privately many suspected the war would have been over before contact could be made with the Krenim had that mission been a failure. It was not a nice thing to dwell on. Now, it seemed that discarded Iconian/Solanae tech had drawn a fly to the sugar bowl.
=A=
Stephen had just finished reading through Captain Paris' report when his combadge chimed. He tapped it. "McCode here."
"Sir, we're five minutes out." Said Commander Bastedo, his voice rendered slightly tinny by the tiny speaker within the badge.
Stephen got up and made his way through his ready room door to the bridge. He took his seat in the centre chair and waited for the squadron to drop from warp.
"Ops, has there been any acknowledgement from the rest of the wing of our approach?"
"Negative, captain. Something seems to be blocking comms. Based on past encounters, this would seem to match borg tech."
Stephen frowned. "It isn't like the Borg to use stealth and jamming. They're more like a seagull that flies in, makes a lot of noise, shits all over everything and then makes a nest. It still smells of Tal Shiar to me."
"We'll find out soon enough." The LtJG at the conn interjected. "Dropping out of warp in five."
On the viewscreen, the white-streaked tunnel effect of warp travel red-shifted into the remains of what had been a class-D planet. It looked as though rather than exploding, the planet had in fact cracked vertically right down its middle, then left its trailing half behind as a tail. The entire debris field continued along the planet's orbit and was still dangerously tightly packed. It would probably take centuries, if not millennia, for the planet to break up completely and become an asteroid belt around the system's star.
A few hundred kilometres fore of the squadron, the rest of the wing was assembled, with Mauris' Odyssey-class USS Vacal on point.
"Captain, the Vacal is hailing us." Said the ensign at the comms station.
"On screen."
The image was slightly grainy due to the local interference, but the audio was clear.
"Welcome to the party, 743." Mauris said. "Form up to aft and starboard of 741 and stand by. We've got a scout ship taking a peek between the intact hemisphere and the start of the debris tail now. At least then we should have some idea what we're up against. I'll have your squadron patched into the feed."
Mauris disappeared and was briefly replaced on screen by the Federation seal before an image from what was presumably a bow camera came up. The ship appeared to be hugging the debris field rather closely, so nothing of its inner contents was yet visible. The ship, which according to its registry details given at the lower left of screen, was the Rhode Island-class USS Jakwiil, would require a hard turn to port to get a view through the largest gap in the planetary fragments. It was still around 30 seconds from that point.
No one on the bridge of the Orobas spoke as the diminutive science ship edged closer to the edge of the partition.
"Divert power from aft and starboard shields and shunt it to port and forward. Slow to one-third impulse as we make the turn." The CO's voice came through the comm channel. Keep the thrusters and impulse engines primed for evasive maneuvers in case we don't like what we see."
On the bridge of the Saleos, Edoc gave an approving grunt. "Smart."
As the Jakwiil's nose poked around the edge of the partition, the camera swung around, revealing nothing more than the still-molten interior of the planet.
A new voice, presumably that of the Ops or helm officer; "The chasm appears to dogleg around to the right. Scans show that it is wide enough to accept three large starfleet ships abreast, should the fleet decide to move in. I'm detecting movement further in, but am unable to ascertain its origin. There appears to be some sort of sensor dampening field in effect."
By now, the ship had swung around and was creeping into the chasm itself. On the bridge of the Vacal, Mauris was having grave misgivings about how this was progressing. He was about to open his mouth to order the Jakwiil to launch a probe and break off when he was interrupted. This time, there was a noticeable edge of anxiety to the voice.
"Something big, heading this way, just beyond the turn. The sensor interference just spiked as well."
"Helm, all stop, and shunt power to the fore shields."
Mauris spoke. "Negative, Jakwiil. Fire off a probe, about face and get out of there."
There was a moment of hesitation, then a probe was seen heading towards the turn, before it was vaporised by a distinctly green energy weapon discharge. There was a blur on the viewscreen as the Jakwiil whirled around in a stationary 180-degree turn. The view then blinked to a rear facing. There was a collective tensing on every bridge in the wing. The ship behind the blast that had destroyed the probe was now visible and gaining speed. It was a Borg battle sphere.
"Shunt to the rear shields and engage evasive! Now!" The Jakwiils CO shouted.
In the nearest nick of time, there was a flicker over the ship's aft quarter as the shields there were strengthened. The sphere, rotating slowly on its axis as it moved, fired again, the beam of superheated plasma crossing the distance in an instant. The shield held, but the force of the blast saw the ship thrown bodily clear of the passage before managing to regain control and make for the rest of the wing at full impulse.
By this time, the wing was on full combat alert. Normal borg MO would have simply been to have put the sphere into the path of the 30 heavy Starfleet ships waiting for it. Despite being the largest and most formidable variant of the spherical vessels in the borg armada, it would have been no match for a wing geared for warfare. Instead, the crews of the Starfleet vessels were left waiting on tenterhooks, waiting to fire on a ship that wasn't coming.
On the bridge of the Oriax, Amber Stewart exchanged a confused look with her first officer, who was also a liberated former drone. The whispers and snatches of thought that she normally heard inside her head in the presence of the collective were entirely absent. She tapped the implant above her left eye, in the manner of someone dealing with a malfunctioning electrical appliance; she frowned in a mixture of confusion and bemusement.
"Something isn't right here." she said. "Are you getting anything, Commander?" Her XO shook her head.
At that moment, the interference cleared and a familiar voice (or rather, voices) echoed through the PA systems of every ship in the wing.
"We are the Borg. We have determined that the entity known as 'Federation' is unsuitable for assimilation. The resources used in the construction of your ships will be repurposed to serve the Collective. What we do not assimilate, we will destroy. Resistance is futile.
"Something is definitely different here." Stewart said. "That isn't their usual speech."
She was about to relay her thoughts to Mauris on the Vacal when movement on the viewscreen caught her eye. The sphere was emerging from its hiding place, with several smaller spheres and approximately a dozen probes of varying types.
They waited for reinforcements, Stewart thought. Wonders really will never cease.
Mauris' voice cut in over fleet comms. "Vacal to all ships. Initiate formation Epsilon and execute attack plan Mauris-Lambda.
For the first time since the battle against the Heralds in Sol some months earlier, the wing moved into non-simulated, weapons-hot action. 742 moved in on the Battle Sphere, while 743 targeted the smaller ships.
Ordinarily, a small force of auxiliary ships would have been no match for a full Starfleet wing, but the Borg continued to pour out of the debris field.
On the bridge of the Vacal, the sitting ops officer spoke. "Sir, I'm reading another group of probes approaching. If I had to guess I'd say they used another path through the debris field. There doesn't appear to be anything bigger among them, however".
From his command position at the front of the cavernous space that passed for the bridge of an Odyssey-class ship, Mauris could see that the battle sphere was beginning to break up under 742's assault. He issued a command for them to break off and form up to engage the flanking Borg squadron. From her position in the centre chair, Flag Captain Dewyer was ordering the helm to bring the Vacal around to also face the new attackers and arm whatever was available from its formidable arsenal. 743 appeared to have their situation in hand, despite the continued flow of reinforcements.
That said, Mauris was not about to leave anything to chance. He quickly composed a message ordering the Jakwiil to get clear of the interference and send word to the rest of TF7. He also assigned two of his escorts to see the relatively fragile ship got away safely.
He looked back up at the viewscreen to see a blue Tetyron burst from the Vacal strike a decahedron probe amidships, opening up a gash along one side of it, and felt a momentary pang of nostalgia. Mireille Dewyer was now out of the captain's chair, issuing orders as she paced around the bridge above them. Although not of a particularly militant disposition, he missed the quick cycle of impulse-action-consequence in a firefight that being a captain provided, as opposed to the wider, longer term implications of being an admiral commanding a task force.
On that note, the flow of probes and smaller spheres was beginning to show signs of overwhelming 742 and 743. Working with a deft touch, he began to rearrange the various icons representing the squadrons into a formation somewhat further back from the debris field from their current position, the idea being that it would be harder to outflank the wing by using other paths through the debris field. With practiced precision, the squadrons began to move according to instruction. It was at this point that Mauris noticed something else unusual about these Borg. Instead of simply using what ships they had and rushing the enemy as they had been known to do in the past, the smaller vessels began to group around a second battle sphere, which had entered the battle in the last few minutes. There were still more arriving and the interference was still making it difficult to get readings past a distance of a million kilometres or so.
For now, the battle was effectively a standoff as the two groups of ships faced each other.
Mauris was about to issue the order to withdraw when the Jakwiil warped back into visual range, along with its two escorts. Without waiting to be hailed, its CO appeared on the main viewer, the Efrosian had the look of someone with urgent news. They had been gone less than half an hour.
"Go ahead, Lieutenant Commander." Mauris prompted
"The good news is that Wing 71 and your fleet's current auxiliary ships are less than 15 minutes out. VA Desyox ordered them here as soon as the system went dark."
"And the bad news?" Mauris asked
"You've also got transwarp signatures incoming, including one that looks cube-sized, due about the same time. 71 are pulling out all the stops to get here sooner."
It seemed as though the Borg ships in front of them had received the same information. They began to move forward in formation. They were still outgunned by wing 74, but would ensure that the Starfleet ships were suitably distracted when the Borg reinforcements arrived.
Deciding to issue the following orders verbally, he opened a channel and order 742 and 743 to start at opposite sides of the Borg formation and work their way in while 741 focused on the sphere in the middle. That was when Mauris saw something emerging from the remains of the planet that made his blood run cold.
It was an octahedron-class capital ship. Despite being rather smaller than its cubical counterparts, (Mauris reasoned that it was probably the only top-end Borg vessel that could fit through the network of chasms and tunnels through the debris) it was nevertheless a tough opponent, albeit one relying less on brute force and more on disabling and disorienting the enemy. Regardless, the existing Borg vessels in the area would benefit from its presence. In addition, the diamond was being escorted by its own squadron of spheres and probes.
The initial wave of Borg ships was now getting worryingly close to Wing 74's formation, but at a point about 50 kilometres off, suddenly came to a stop. No one had to wait long to find out why they had done so. The was a green flash and all at once the viewscreen, which had been showing the oncoming wing of Borg with the wreckage of Calbriden III in the background, was replaced by a wall of metal. Even at extreme close up range, it was obvious from the heavy armour that this was nothing other than the side of a tactical cube.
Mauris was reaching for the 'scatter' button on his display when a bright orange streak flashed across the screen and tore a gaping hole in the side of the cube. The Vacal's ops officer pressed a button and and the image on the viewscreen split in two with the addition of a rear view. Sweeping in towards them was the Yerzna, flanked either side by its Wing 71 escorts and trailed by a wing of smaller non task force vessels, with each ship that could get a clear shot aiming squarely into the gaping wound caused by the Yerzna's lance.
Desyox's voice boomed across the PA. "Wing 74, break off and come back around us. Your orders are then to engage that diamond and its support craft. We'll deal with the cube."
"Wing 74, acknowledging. " Mauris replied. Addressing his own ships, he added "You heard the man, let's move. Break to port, form up, pattern Mauris-epsilon and circle around behind the rest of the fleet." After a glance at the ship status monitor, he added, "Flauros, are you able to continue?"
As if reading his mind, a lieutenant sitting with him in the CIC area had found the Flauros and placed an image of the Odyssey-class vessel on the holo-viewer they shared. She looked the worse for wear. At some point, she appeared to have taken a shot to the starboard side of her primary hull and several decks had been laid open to space, though from the outside, it looked as though emergency measures had kicked in and the damage had been localised.
"As good as can be expected, Admiral. The big sphere hit us with a tachyon beam and the cube trained its KCB on us as soon as it warped in. Shields are back up now and the damage, though heavy, is superficial from a systems point of view."
Emeria's definition of 'superficial' didn't quite match up with his own, but Mauris knew her well enough to know that she would have a good idea of whether her ship was still spaceworthy, given her engineering background. Moreover, the Odyssey was incredibly resilient and could probably take almost anything short of losing a nacelle or its warp core.
He thought briefly of the crew that might have been in that section, and quickly pushed the thought away; there would be time for that later.
Outside, the battle continued. The cube had attempted to rotate its damaged flank away from the line of fire, but unlike wing 74, the auxiliary had over 40 smaller escorts nimble enough to find their way through the traffic and flank the damaged area. The flipside to that, of course, being that the cube had enough firepower remaining to be a real danger to a small, relatively fragile ship at close range, not to mention the swarm of smaller geometric shapes trying to intercept them. Indeed, there were already ships having to limp away, heavily damaged. As he watched, a Gladius-class escort was snared in a tractor beam and sliced neatly in half by the cube's cutting beam. Moments later, escape pods began popping off the sides of the stricken vessel. In another odd twist, the pods were completely ignored by the Borg and thus the ships not under fire were able to beam the survivors away before the pods could be hit by stray weapons fire.
Just beyond the battlefield, more and more Borg vessels were warping in. The situation was rapidly deteriorating into one that not even a hundred-plus Starfleet ships could handle. Aboard the Yerzna, Desyox could now count at least three standard cubes along with the wounded but still dangerous tactical one. With the distraction of assimilation removed from their thinking, it seemed the Borg became a far more difficult opponent. Worse, Wings 72 and 73 were still at least an hour away, Task Force Omega even further. The Vice Admiral had no intention of losing half his fleet in its first major engagement under his command.
He was about to issue the order to retreat when there was a noticeable flickering of the lights before the viewscreen changed to show the round, eye-like emblem of the Iconians, which then changed again to show the face of an Iconian herself. Desyox recognised her as L'Miren, who had been the one to speak on behalf of ten of the eleven remaining Iconians at the end of the war.
"Starfleet. You cannot win this battle. Withdraw to the transmitted coordinates and cover our rear flank. Our technology is at the heart of this situation. We will take responsibility for its resolution."
"Task Force 7, do as she says." Desyox ordered. "Gather at the rally point and adopt defensive formation theta. Then watch the fun." He suppressed a grin. He was a military man, something of an exception among his Denobulan kin, and part of him was looking forward to what was about to happen.
The Borg response was immediate.
"Species 47. Lower your shields and prepare to be assimilated. Part of your technology has already been repurposed to serve the Collective. You will allow us to complete our mission. Resistance is futile."
The leading Iaidon fired its main gun and a battle sphere was vaporised into nonexistence. From that point, it was all on. With their new found power, the Borg were able to give a solid account of themselves, but even though they were taking losses, the Iconian ability to gate in directly (presumably from the Dyson Sphere near Iconia) meant they were gaining a numerical advantage faster than the Borg could manage. Half an hour later the fearsome wall of metal that had been put in front of the Task Force 7 was so much scrap being blown aside to make way for the Iconian advance. Now, of course, there was the question of how they were going to make a path through the planetary debris to get to whatever monstrosity they had constructed at its centre.
The answer became obvious before anyone really knew what was going on: they would simply make one by force of arms.
L'Miren's voice gave a single directive: "Follow."
Desyox decided, given what her fleet had just done to the Borg, that staying quiet and following orders might be the wise thing to do in this situation and ordered the fleet forward at half impulse. Ahead of them, huge pieces of molten rock were either vaporised by weaponry or thrown aside by repulsor beams. In a surprisingly short time, they had arrived at their destination. He had seen images of the generator that had been posted by Tom Paris' Delta Flight and although the subspace shockwave generated by the apparent destruction of the facility had been damaging, it had seemingly not done enough to completely destroy what remained.
=A=
Somehow, the Borg had been able to salvage the pieces and reconstruct the facility with a distinctly Borg flavour. It its centre swirled a gate, glowing the familiar Borg green instead if the Iconian blue that Delta Flight had seen. It appeared to be destabilising; it was sparking and fluctuating in size.
"We must move quickly. The Borg have triggered a cascade destabilisation in the portal. Destroy the generator."
"Wait, where is the terminus of the portal?" Desyox asked
"The other end of the portal lies in the midst of a unimatrix deep within their portion of what you refer to as 'The Delta Quadrant'. We will supply coordinates, but once this installation is destroyed, our obligations in this particular matter are discharged. You will not receive further assistance from us unless our technology or our rogue sister, T'Ket, are involved. Wider Galactic affairs will not be our concern for the foreseeable future."
Desyox opened his mouth to argue that with partial assimilation of Iconian tech, the Borg were most certainly their problem as well, then thought better of it. He did not want to be the one that re-ignited tensions with them. Instead, he gave a fire at will order against certain points on the generator. As pieces came loose from the structure, they were snagged by Iconian ships to be towed away. Eventually, the generator split completely in half and the portal flickered, then seemed to implode into itself and disappear.
L'Miren appeared on the main screen again. "We will ensure that the Borg do not return to try a similar ploy. They do, however, remain your issue as far as the rest of this area of space is concerned. Do not linger here."
Desyox looked at his assistant. "Have the fleet set course for the BGO mustering point and have all ships with damage file reports within the hour. Also, see if you get me a line to Fleet Admiral Yanishev."
=A=
Two days later, Desyox hosted Rezkki, Mauris and Blackmoore in his conference room. On the left hand side of the display at the front of the room was the face of Fleet Admiral Grigory Yanishev, who was basically the head of Starfleet tactical across their entire territory. The stocky, barrel-chested human from Earth was a military man all the way, a tactical foil to his counterparts, Quinn and Marconi. He was renowned as a hard taskmaster and his countenance was perennially stern, but he possessed a dry brand of dark humour that non-humans often failed to pick up on. Now though, he looked a trifle concerned at what Desyox had told him.
On the other half of the display was another admiral, this one a four-pip. Chal Rexx was a chunky and unusually severe-looking Bolian who had led Starfleet forces in the Solanae Dyson Sphere in 2413-14 as a vice admiral. Promoted to full admiral in the leadup to the Iconian war, his area of responsibility had extended to Delta Command as well. Desyox was less than happy about what his presence in this conference implied.
With the opening formalities out of the way, Yanishev got down to business.
"This Borg reappearance worries me. I'm sending Admiral Four of Ten some more ships for TFO to try and keep a lid on things there, and the Republic is also assigning ships closer to that area, but I need to get some visibility on this issue at its likely source. I've managed to convince the admiralty that we need to send an NFT to the Delta Quadrant."
"How the hell did you manage to swing that, given the current climate?" Blackmoore asked
"I told the AOTF that it was an exploration mission, which is true. Given that you'll be heading into unexplored space beyond the rimward edge of Delta Alliance space, I felt the level of danger warranted an NTF. For the sake of appearances, Admiral Rexx will be assigning a couple of exploration cruisers and science vessels to you."
"What about auxiliary vessels?" Desyox inquired
"No can do. Quinn would have me lynched. He was unhappy enough that I'm sending an NTF in the first instance."
"That's where I come in." Rexx said. "By necessity, most of the ships under my command were sent elsewhere during the Iconian war, leaving me to beg, borrow or steal what resources I could get my hands on. As a result, my staff and I have formed working relationships with several DA factions who don't have the same rigid fleet structure that we do. If I call in some favours I believe I can recruit some Hazari Contractors and a Hirogen hunting party to accompany you."
"Hirogen and Hazari. You can't get any of the more prominent factions to play ball?" Mauris asked. "Surely the Benthans and others have just as big an interest in what's going on out there as we do, if not more."
"They've got their hands full trying to rein in rogue elements within their own space, and while the Heralds didn't hit the DQ as hard as they went for us, the mess the Vaadwaur created is still having effects even now. It may be the Benthans, Hierarchy, and Cooperative may be able to give you some ships, but likely no more than a squadron, if that." Rexx replied.
"So, then, we need to discuss timing." Yanishev interjected. "How bad did they get you?"
"We only actually lost one ship, but several others sustained moderate to heavy damage. Most notable among those was the Flauros, which lost a big chunk of the starboard side of her chevron. I don't see repairs of that nature being done inside a month." Rekzii said, reading off a PADD.
Yanishev made a hrmph noise. "I'm going to organise a replacement chevron rather than repair the current one. Is the Flauros seperation-capable?"
"No, she started life as a standard Block I, but was converted to a Block I/T after about a year." said Mauris.
"Well, that makes things easier and more difficult at the same time, but I'm sure with the number of Oddys we lost there has to be an intact chevron lying around. I'll get onto logistics about that now"
He appeared to consider something. "Who's the CO?"
"Of the Flauros? Emeria Neves." Mauris replied.
"You know what? Given Captain Neves' record, I'm going to recommend the Flauros gets upgraded. Converted standard block-one Oddys have always had issues due to the change being rushed and poorly implemented. Time to fix that and reward her patience."
"That'll blow out the downtime." Rezkii said.
"Leave that issue to me." said Yanishev curtly. "Desyox, you have the other changes pertaining to your senior staff in particular. If there's nothing else, I have plenty to be getting on with."
No one said anything.
"Good. Yanishev, out." He disappeared off screen, and the image shifted to allow Rexx to take up its entire width.
"I'm sure we'll be corresponding a fair bit over the next couple of weeks, Vice Admiral. Sounds like you've got plenty to do in the meantime, so I'll leave you to it."
"I'll have an ETA for you as soon as I know, Admiral." Desyox acknowledged.
Rexx nodded, and left the channel. The screen showed the Federation seal for a few seconds, before going completely blank.
"So, what are these changes that Yanishev mentioned?" Blackmoore inquired.
Desyox grinned. "Well, there's good news and bad news as far as you're concerned."
"Goody gum drops. Do I get a choice which one I hear first?"
"No, because the bad news won't make sense without the good news first."
Blackmoore sighed. "OK, lay it on me then."
"Command have introduced a new regulation in light of how many experienced officers we lost in the war. Wing and fleet flag vessels are to be sep-capable. The exception being carriers like the Atrox and the Jupiter"
"So, I'm getting a new ship." Blackmoore said, looking dubious. "Dare I ask what I'm being saddled with?"
Desyox said nothing, but turned around and waved his arm towards the windows at the back of the room, indicating the substantial bulk of the Yerzna.
Blackmoore's eyes widened until it seemed they might be in danger of falling out. "Holy shit, you're trusting me with the Big Y?"
"Don't blow an EPS conduit, you haven't heard the bad news yet." said Desyox
Blackmoore made a twirling gesture with his hand. Get on with it.
"In the instance the ship is separated for battle, you'll be on the saucer, outside the main theater of battle." Desyox concluded
"So my flag captain gets to have all the fun?"
"A task for which he is eminently capable." Rezkii said.
Blackmoore sighed again. "I guess the carnival had to be over some time. So where does that put you? And what happens to the Rommel? " He asked, addressing Desyox.
"You're getting a hand-me-down. I'm getting a brand new toy. One purpose-built for my position." Desyox pressed a key on his terminal and a holo of a ship appeared. It looked as though it took design elements from the Ambassador, Galaxy and Odyssey Classes, with a round (or at least elliptical) saucer and a circular deflector dish and fore part of its secondary hull.
"This is a Block Two-slash-Oh Operations Capital Ship Cruiser. More commonly known as a Sojourner-class. Specially designed as a fleet coordination and hey-look-at-how-advanced-we-are diplomatic vessel. Available as flagships only at the moment."
"Well, you certainly couldn't accuse it of not following Starfleet design motif." Rezkii quipped, before turning to Blackmoore. "The Rommel will be reassigned to Captain Mikkelsen."
Blackmoore grinned. "A man after my own heart. Good."
Desyox turned to Mauris. "In case you're wondering if the Vacal is getting the same treatment as the Flauros, the answer is no, at least not immediately." He pressed a key again, and a different ship appeared. This one bore much more of a resemblance to the original Odyssey, the most obvious difference being forward-swept nacelle pylons, giving it a more compact profile.
"This is what you'll get instead. A Block two-slash-em multi role flagship cruiser, or Yorktown class. Essentially an upgraded version of what you have now. No word on what will happen to the Vacal."
Mauris nodded and suppressed a sigh. This was to be his fourth flagship since becoming an admiral less than 18 months ago…