making any money off them with this story.
The torpedoes carved trails through the candy-colored ionized gasses and radioactive clouds of the Pleiku Nebula like bullets through a heavy fog, and when they struck the portside dorsal shields of the Enterprise-E, the bridge trembled like a high-rise tower in the middle of an earthquake.
"Report!" ordered Commander Anschutz, even before Picard had a chance to open his mouth. His new executive officer moved through bridge protocols like a porpoise through still water, and it still unnerved him a little bit. At least with Will Riker, Picard could let his exec go about his business without a second thought, but with Taylor Anschutz he felt the need to keep his attention trained on the man, and that was turning out to be an exhausting task.
"Two warships bearing one-one-seven mark thirty-two," Lieutenant Strain answered from Tactical One. She'd taken to wearing her long, dark ringlets up and it made her seem even taller than her normal height of six-two. Almost like having Worf back... Picard reflected. But only for a moment.
"Evasive maneuvers, come about. Full forward batteries at the ready. Do we know who they are?"
"Captain, it is extremely difficult to maintain a cohesive sensor scan through this nebula," Data said, turning his chair slightly. "However with some raw data from the tactical stations, I may be able to extrapolate--"
"Excellent," Picard cut him off. "Mr. Kaylen, coordinate your sensor readings with Mr. Data."
"Aye sir," Kaylen said and began punching interface commands into his console at Tactical Two.
Then the next series of explosions racked the ship. The deck tilted suddenly, throwing crewmen against their angular consoles and onto the carpeted deck. Science One and Three's system's panels blew out in a spray of flames and glittering debris.
"Shields down to eighty-seven percent!" Strain reported.
"Coming to bear on enemy vessels in five," said Ensign Hong from conn, "...four..."
Picard squinted at the holoviewer, but couldn't make out shapes through the static and, when the screen resolved for a few moments, swirls of the nebula gasses. He stole a glance over at Anschutz. The man was also staring intently at the screen, but he couldn't fathom what the man was thinking. If it was Riker, Picard could have read his thoughts from the furrow of his brow.
"...three..."
"Sir," Lieutenant Kaylen blurted, "they're Klingons!"
"What?" Picard and Anschutz demanded in unison.
"Confirmed," Data said impassively. "Energy emissions are consistent with two K'Vort-class Bird-of Preys."
"Their sensors don't have any resolution through this soup," Anschutz thought aloud (Picard was seeing this as a habit of the man). "All they know is that we're big."
"Hail them, Mr. Kaylen," Picard snapped. Then he turned to Anschutz, "There was a Klingon assault force attached to this nebula seven months ago when it was believed the Dominion would try and secret a fleet through to strike at Trill."
"Looks like they didn't all go home," Anschutz said dryly.
"They're not responding," Kaylen said with a hint of fear tingeing his voice.
"They can't confirm our friend-or-foe identification," Lieutenant Strain announced coldly. "I'm attempting to boost the signal."
The ship took a sharp hit--disruptor blow, Picard knew, he could tell by it's steadiness--and the bridge lights flickered for an instant, but the captain knew that nothing planted the seed of fear in a crew faster than losing the lights--even for a moment.
"Shields at seventy-four percent," Strain reported, not taking her smoke-dark eyes off the console. "We are within optimal firing range, sir."
"Target weapons and drive systems," Picard ordered. "Phasers at seventy-five percent."
"Unable to target specific drive systems, sir," Strain replied.
"We could still hit them with low-yield phasers and torps," Anschutz suggested.
Picard shook his head. "That may further aggravate them. And without being able to target specific systems we've the choice of killing members of their crew or doing no damage at all."
"An antimatter spread to scramble their sensors?"
"Same problem," Picard said.
"There is an additional difficulty," Data said. "An antimatter spread within these highly-charged plasma pockets could easily set off a series of coalesced plasma storms which would..."
"Cut their ships to ribbons," Picard finished dryly. "And ours as well."
Anschutz sat forward as if to make another suggestion, when the ship struggled and veered, as if suddenly caught in a gravity well. The inertial dampners struggled to compensate, but couldn't. Crewmen tumbled out of their chairs and fought the haywire artificial gravity to get up. The bridge was filled with a low rumbling, then the scream of emergency claxons and failing conduits and systems.
"Another ship has entered the assault!" Strain shouted over the din of alarms and frantic voices. "Vor'cha-class!"
"The cavalry's here," Anschutz barked. "Problem is, it's the wrong cavalry."
Damage crews emerged from the turbolifts, scuffled and tangled with the bridge crew and the effects of the failing systems before tending to the burning consoles and live cables.
"Shields at twenty-two percent and dropping!" Lieutenant Kaylen called, his voice cracking.
"Two more Bird-of-Preys joining the attack!"
Picard stood, despite the unstable gravity. "Ensign Hong, get us out of here! Maximum warp!"
But the next hit knocked her out of her chair and to the deck in a shower of sparks.
"Transferring controls to my system," Data announced, nonplussed. His yellow eyes scanned the newly-configured panel. "Warp power is not available captain."
Picard turned, but Anschutz was already hailing Engineering. "What's the situation down there, Mister LaForge?"
Geordi's voice came through the speakers, broken by static and feedback. "Main energizer's out commander...secondary, but with the damage to power couplings...only at sixty-four percent efficiency..."
Picard met Anschutz's gaze across the smoke-blurred bridge. "If we're going to shoot," his exec said, "we have to do it now."
They flinched as the ship took another hit. Cables rained on them, writhing and twisting from the ceiling like angry vipers. The damage control teams clamored over felled crew members to neutralize the live ones. Picard took it all in within less than a second. The struggling shields, the fragile ship in the vicious pocket of storms, the five warships mistakenly trying to destroy one of their allies. Warships that could be easily crippled with one burst from the Enterprise's main batteries. Warships whose combined crew complements numbered near five-hundred.
Less than a second to feel the weight of command saddle his heart and pull at his conscience.
"Helm, come to course zero-nine-zero mark zero-zero!" Picard snapped and clamped his fingers around his armrests. "Full impulse!"
The ship suddenly seemed to tense, like a runner's legs locking in launching position, then exhaled a great whine of overloaded structural integrity fields and straining inertial dampners as the ship rolled side-over-side, then went to maximum sublight on a course straight down into the thickening gasses of the nebula.
"Transfer full shield power to aft shields," Anschutz barked, then tentatively looked over at Picard for approval. The man was learning, Piucard mused.
"They'll follow us," he said, nodding.
"And depending upon the resolution of their sensors they may even be able to follow our wake," Strain said. "We can adjust our impulse-release vents to muddy it up some, but we may lose some speed."
"Do it," Picard ordered.
"We can't outrun a disruptor blast anyway," Anschutz mused.
"Agreed."
For the next ten kinutes or so, the damage-control teams went to work on the bridge an other afflicted areas. Under battle consitions, without the necessary access to ship's systems and an easy supply of materials, the best they could manage was to contain and bypass damaged systems. Rig them to keep from injuring the crew and mark them for more complete repairs of replacement later. The medical teams cleared out the worst of the wounded and treated the ones who were immediately treatable. They flushed Lieutenant Hong's eyes for particles of polymers and treated her contusions with a quick derman regenerator, then sent her back to work at the helm.
Picard watched the work go on around him with a grim sense of control slipping away. They were still a few million kilometers from the edge of the nebula and the wolfpack of Klingons was out there somewhere. The decision he'd so deftly avoided once would face him once again. He keyed his comm-board to take his mind off of mortal thoughts. "Geordi, what's the repair status of the main energizer?"
"It's not good, Captain. We're going to need replacement components from a Starbase to get it online and stay there. The secondary is pulling its weight, but we're going to be limited at red alert."
"The sooner we're out of this damn cloud, the better," Anschutz remarked. Picard made an affirming noise.
"If they follow us out, we'll be able to make contact. Identify ourselves as Starfleet."
"Or at least go to warp," Anschutz got out just before the devastation began.
The explsoions were continuous and rolling, like a string of firecrackers with shorter intervals as the fuse went along. The Enterprise was shaken by all of them, but equally unevenly. Some threw her violently while other sounded as dim impacts beyond the scream of alarms and frantic crews. Alarms screamed a panicky call.
"They must have picked up our trail!" Anschutz called over the noise and commotion.
"Assaults appear to be blind," Strain reported, gripping her console to keep from being hurled across the bridge. "They're trying to flush us out!"
Picard leaned forward. "Maintain course and speed! We've got to clear the nebula!"
The ship lurched as she took two full hits on her aft shields. She threatened to lose and attitude and tumble, but Lieutenant Hong played her console like a concert pianist and used the explosive release to propel the ship forward.
But they were only compensatory maneuvers.
The next round of hits tore through the weakened forward shields, and the sound of their impact resounded through the ship, shieks of tormented metal, of structural beams and deckplates being shattered. ODN buses were vaporized, their cables severed, shredded. Radiation poured through poured through corridors and decks as blast doors, deprived of their normal power supply sluggishly closed and the fire-prevention systems failed.
Damage reports jammed Kaylen's board, showed up as streaks of red as intense as knife gashes on Picard's master status board.
"We have weapons lock! Permission to fire?"
Picard shook his head at Strain, but addressed his orders to Lieutenant Hong. "Maintain course to nebula's edge."
"Sir!" Kaylen stopped, choked on smoke, then stepped away from Tactical Two. "We have to end this now! Any more hits like those--" The next disruptor blast blew out a plasma conduit in the port bulkhead, transforming Science Station Three into a mass of polymer shrapnel that rode a concussion wave as potent as a phaser bolt. Kaylen was dead before he ever knew he'd never finish his sentence.
"Transferring controls to Tactical One!" Strain reported automatically, not even registering the death of her crewmate.
"Warp nacelle one has been destroyed," Data reported dispassionately. "Unable to eject it, however. Clamps are locked."
"Casualty reports coming in from all decks, Captain," Anschutz said. "We can read them later."
"Agreed--"
The lights dimmed in the wake of another set of explosions echoing from the very core of the ship upward. Picard imagined his ship's lower decks consumed by fiery explosions, dumbly running accordance to his orders, her impulse torque ripping her apart.
"Main power offline," Hong called out over the sudden wail of engineering claxons. She killed with with the press of a button. "Nebula's edge at three-hundred thousand kilometers..."
"Dropping to one-third impulse," Anschutz said, not taking his eyes off his console. "We're not going bleed anymore power out of her."
Picard watched the holo-viewer lose resolution, regain it, only to lose it again. The Enterprise wouldn't be going easily out of this punishment. She'd be earning her escape by taking the body blows. And offering up the lives of her crewmen.
"Ships entering the nebula, dead ahead!" Data reported, a slight edge in his synthesized voice.
"Confirmed," Strain called out. "Reading three ships. IFF has them...Sir,
they're ours!"
Thirteen seconds later, the last Klingon torpedo struck the Enterprise.
It punctured the secondary shuttlebay and exploded inside the atmospheric
environment, obliterating seven shuttlecraft and killing three more crewmen.
The Damage-Assessment Schematic that filled the holo-screen on Picard's ready room wall rendered the Enterprise in stark, skeletal lines, disrupted only by the blood-red damage indiactors. There were a heart-breaking number of those indicator's Picard thought, his chest growing icy and heavy. If this had been a standard mission with full scientific, archeological, and xeno-anthropological attachments, the death count would have been in the hundreds.
"Our damage teams will work in tandem with yours in sectors seven-A, seven-B, and three-L. Where the most damage has been done to the ODN trunks and EPS hubs."
Picard nodded at Captain Larwin. "My primary concern is to make sickbay self-sustaining. We've over a hundred injuries that need to be tended to."
"And thirty-two dead," Larwin commented dryly. Picard gave him a sidelong glance, saw the neutral look on the young captain's sharp face, and decided to pursue the matter. Picard had never liked passive-aggression, and since the war he'd found his patience waning even more.
"You have something to say, Captain, I'd appreciate it if you'd say it."
Larwin turned slightly, took a step back from the screen, inhaled through his nose. "Only that you continued to let your ship get pounded, your crew injured and killed, rather than fire back. In my opinion, you acted irresponsibly."
Picard took a step forward. Larwin was about the same height as he was, but in his gathering rage he felt as massive before the man as his ship was to a Runabout. "Those were allies in those ships. Their combined crew complements were nearly equal to our own. Are you implying that the life of a Klingon is somehow less valuable than the life of a Starfleet officer, Captain? Save my crew at the cost of theirs?"
"This is a state-of-the-art ship, Captain. There aren't many like it. Now, the USS Sovereign just got trashed playing games with a couple of Dominion Battlecruisers in a Red Giant's coronasphere, which means the Corps of Engineers will just cannibalize her for your repairs. But that still leaves us down one. One lost Sovereign boat is one too many. Those Bird-of-Preys and Vor'chas? Dime a dozen. Klingons crank them out like replicated socks. This..." he tapped the nearest bulkhead, "is irreplacable."
"This," Picard said coldly, "is a collection of components. Alloys, conduits, cables. Not worth killing any of our allies over. It's a thing. A vast, complex, intricate thing. And no matter how miraculous this piece of technology is, it's not something than can be valued in terms of lives."
Larwin's eyes narrowed. "This is wartime, Captain Picard. People are dying every second of every day. How many lives do you think have been lost just during our little exchange here? The value of one, ten, a hundred, has plummeted in the face of the larger picture. The goal is to win this war. And this ship and this crew is more useful for that than those ships and those crews."
"That is a distinction I will not make, Captain," Picard replied tightly. "This war--and all of our sacrifices are worth nothing if we sacrifice our most basic humanity, for this is war to preserve just that. So I will not fire on friendly ships. Not until the stakes are much, much higher."
"Can your crew accept that?" Larwin asked reprochfully.
Picard took another step toward the man. "My crew didn't voice any objections when I made the decision. They haven't now. They trust the decisions I make."
Larwin nodded, then stepped off. "I see we won't be agreeing upon anything now. I'll help coordinate the damage control teams."
"Very well," Picard said, then, over his shoulder: "And Captain?"
Larwin paused in the doorway.
"Never presume to come aboard my ship and dictate duty to me. Is that understood?"
Larwin nodded slightly and left.
The dead were lined up on stasis couches with black thinsulate blankets drawn over them. The names and biographical details were displayed on small screens on the couches. Picard read them over, but didn't know a one. It didn't seem right, he thought. That a captain shouldn't know the very crewmembers who die carrying out his orders.
But rotations, specialized assignment demands, and increasing casualties kept the turnover rate high, and some days Picard felt as if he commanded a ship of strangers.
"Would you like me to start on the letters?"
Picard started slightly, his XO had come up on him so quietly.
"I've got the full casualty list here."
Picard shook his head. "No, Commander. I'll take care of it. They were, after all, my orders."
"Bold orders," Anschutz said ambiguously.
"You don't agree with them," Picard probed tentatively.
"If I had been in command at the time? No. I would have returned fire until we were out of danger. If I found myself in that situation tomorrow? I'd find another way." The young man's cold, blue eyes locked Picard's gaze.
"Humanity, too, has a price."
Anschutz shrugged. "What makes it worth fighting for, I think."
They stood in silence for a moment, then Anschutz said, "Why don't I write the letters, sir? You can proof them."
"Very well, Commander."