Star Trek: On the Altars of Mars

by Grand Admiral Harmon

Sequel to FE&D. Six months have passed during the Dominion War. The Terran Empire, even with it's recent victories, are hard pressed to survive as another threat, more dangerous than the Dominion raises it's ugly head. Meanwhile, the usurper Riker struggles to retain control of the Empire, as he is forced to face his own worst enemy.

1. Prologue

Note: I do not own anything Star Trek except for original ideas, places and characters that weren't in the series.

Prologue

"We pledge to serve the Terran Empire.

We will sacrifice everything for Ceaser.

We shall fight our enemies on Land.

We shall combat our foes in the air.

We shall clash with our adversaries in the cold of space.

We are soldiers of the Terran Empire.

Victorious from the First City to the Romulan Halls.

Vulcans, Andorians, Tellarites, Klingons and Romulans all serve.

Cardassians, Ferengi and more fear us.

We are the masters of the Galaxy.

We have never been conquered.

We shall never be conquered.

We shall always conquer.

We conquer what we see.

Hail Ceaser!

We who are about to die, salute you!"

Repeating these words to himself, the soldier pressed against the wall, sacred beyond the realm of imagination. Plasma weapons flew down the hall, striking down any soldier that dared defy them. The footsteps fell in perfect unison from their foe, a metallic "stomp stomp stomp". Phaser fire crisscrossed with the flying green plasma, and screams echoed down the hall. Some were screams of pain. Some were the screams of those who were running, scared enough not to stand against the foe.

He saw the Vulcan Lt. Commander of Zeta Squad running down the hall, and then he was hit and he sprawled onto the floor. Three more soldiers nearby, hunkering behind a collapsed barricade of boxes, were all hit in rapid succession as each rose up to return fire. Sparks erupted from blown out conduits and a smoky haze was beginning to fill the entire corridor.

But, that wasn't what unnerved him most. It was the screams that started off as quick burst of screams, and then grew softer and softer and then stopped. Not a quick gasp of pain or alarm. No, this was slower, more softer. That's what unnerved him.

A Klingon MACO, wielding a bat'leth, raced down the corridor, leaping over his fallen comrades. He bellowed as he ran, but he hadn't gone past the young soldier before he collapsed as well, falling backwards, the bat'leth flying from his hands.

Suddenly alone, the young soldier broke from cover. But he hadn't stood up before he was stabbed through the neck and he collapsed, falling face first on the ground. He couldn't see anything as his vision clouded over, but the marching footsteps continued, and the fire fight dragged on.