As the sun began to set in the darkening sky, the Jesh'lon household was bustling. Family members of four generations were gathered together in the large house, all merrily engaging in family antics with the happy energy of that the Tellarites loved. The children played in their little indoor den adjoining the main room, the younger ones dancing happily while the older children tried to stay aloof from their younger siblings and cousins. The adults themselves were mixed between the kitchen and the main room, gossiping happily with frequent affectionate insults, It was a truly happy family.
The one dark spot of the household was an elderly Tellarite who sat in his chair with the air of someone who, come hell or high water, simply wouldn't be budged. Patriarch, as he was known to his family, was a curmudgeonly antisocial old fellow, but he was also a respected one. The eyepatch, long white beard and missing right tusks gave him a fearsome visage, but nevertheless, the old man occasionally leaned backward to peek into the children's play-den, just to check that they were okay. The gossiping women in the living room noticed, but taking their cue from the energetic old Matriarch, they left the old man be rather than tease him. Indeed, most of the time Patriarch simply gazed at the large vid-screen that dominated the living room.
The old man had been almost entirely quiet for two hours before, finally, the old film began to roll to its end credits, and he sparked to life.
"Alright, alright!" Patriarch barked suddenly, startling everyone in the house with his booming voice. "The news is about to start! Everyone get in here, and bring drinks you lazy ingrates!"
The youngest of the adult women present, only 19, sighed as everyone startling bustling to his orders. Bixel got out of her chair and knelt down next to Patriarch, smiling sympathetically. "Grandfather, it's just going to be the same that it always is. The news has been so boring since we were cut off from the Federation networks. Can't we just let it be and celebrate your birthday?"
The glare that Patriarch responded with was withering. "Young people. Pah. Don't you care what happens to our world?" He glanced at the screen as it began to shift to a flashy title sequence, and he shushed her with a hand motion. "Shush, shush, it's starting. Everyone get in here! Last one to get in has to taste test Hupnum's pie tonight so the rest of us don't get poisoned!"
The family gathered in quickly (with an indignant little huff from Hupnum), a couple of them snorting loudly in irritation at Patriarch's order. The children came too, sitting obediently on the carpet before the screen, while everybody else either sat in the available chairs or simply stood wherever there was space. The news title sequence finished, the image gradually fading in to a smartly dressed Andorian who looked back at the camera with a professional little smile.
"Good evening," he said with a polished tone. "This is Shall ir-Khalman, it's 2000 capital time and this is the Menelax Evening News. This afternoon, the planetary governor and ruling council met with the head of the Tholian occupying force, Admiral Aurijene, to discuss the future of Menelax under Tholian rule." The entire family seemed to take a nervous breath. "After returning from the Tholian base in the Georgiou Cliffs, the governor and the council immediately went into closed session. There is, as of yet, no word on any specifics that were discussed with the admiral. However, the council spokeswoman is due to give a press conference at 0810, nine minutes from now, which we will of course be broadcasting to you live for what has been touted as the most important press conference since Menelax was colonised."
"They always say that," Matriarch muttered before she was shushed.
"Protests have been held in every major city and town on the planet today, commemorating thirty days since the Tholian battlegroup arrived in Menelax orbit, destroying the still under-construction Starbase 60 and the Starfleet vessel USS Gallant. Despite concerns about punitive measures by Tholian troops, the Tholians have so far ignored the protests without comment. This continues their stance of permitting normal Menelax life to continue without interference, although police have warned that citizens should not become complacent. While the only Tholian ground troops on the planet have remained confined to their fortress sixty kilometers from the capital, the chief inspector reminded everyone that should Tholian soldiers act, there is little that the police can do."
"Pah!" Patriarch snorted. "Lilly-hearted yellow-bellied wannabes. 'Little they can do' my hairy arse. The second they see a Tholian soldier, they'll surrender on the spot!"
"Father!" one of his elder sons said reproachfully. "You're an ugly distrustful bastard. What else can the police do? All they have are stun phasers, and those are Tholian elite troops! Some of the best in the quadrant!"
Patriarch, not inclined to admit that he had been unfair, just grunted.
As they talked, the news report continued on, and finally the screen changed now to an attractive young Andorian standing outside some elaborately decorated doors. Floating drones surrounded her, recording every word while the reporters politely waited for her to speak. "Good evening to you all," she said somberly, her antennae curled forward in a grim look. "As I'm sure is well known, the council and I have just returned from the extended negotiations with Admiral Aurijene of the Tholian military. I must report, to my great sorrow, that these were not negotiations at all." She took a deep breath. "Instead, Admiral Aurijene proffered an ultimatum to the planetary authorities, as well as some very grim news."
"This is it," Patriarch whispered, his beady old eyes glued to the screen just like everyone else.
"He reported," the Andorian governor said heavily, "that the Federation Council, unwilling to risk a full scale war with the Tholian Assembly, has formally ceded Menelax to Tholian rule. Starfleet, citing military realities, is unable to liberate our world. As such, the Tholians have...generously...indicated that all Federation citizens on Menelax will be evacuated within eighteen months. He has directed the planetary government to begin preparations for a mass evacuation, that will be done in an orderly fashion with no...resistance...to our Tholian rulers." The spokeswoman paused, and it suddenly became obvious that a white-hot fury burned beneath her polite politician's demeanor, her teeth clenched. "He has not yet suggested how this mass evacuation shall take place, but we have been assured that appropriate transport will be secured in time to return everyone to Federation space. That is all. Further details will be provided tomorrow. Thank you all for listening."
A stunned silence pervaded the house while the news program continued, the shocked news presenter recovering with professional alacrity as he moved on to other news subjects. The children looked at each other, plainly not quite understanding what was happening, but the adults could scarcely believe it.
"That's it?" Hupnum spoke first in a small, tinny voice, standing at the back of the room. "We just leave our homes like that? They're going to abandon us? Those bastards!"
Moving quickly, her husband moved to embrace her as she sobbed into his shirt. He looked around, but rather than distraught, he looked furious. "What's the point in Starfleet if they won't protect us? And what's that stupid cowardly nonsense about military realities!? They beat off the Klingons and Romulans for fifty years, and now they can't protect one colony against the Tholians?"
The children, sensing the distress of the adults, gradually began to cry, whining with distraught little noises. Like a spark, it set off the rest of the family off, and they descended into a half dozen separate conversations, decrying the idiots on Earth who had decreed their fate.
Matriarch, knowing better, looked at her husband with a silent look that was filled with meaning. The battered old man grunted, shaking his head. "Could be," he said to her, his voice carrying to her chair despite the distraught din of their family's chatter. "Starfleet are a bunch of sissies. I saw enough stupid fools in uniform when I was flying, and most of 'em are spineless idiots. Kirk is dead and the Enterprise is retired...could be that was all that was keepin' them strong."
Matriarch nodded sagely as she picked up one of the crying children, cradling the sobbing boy against her breast. "They can't evacuate us all, can they?"
Patriarch's large nostrils flared as he snorted. "What, carry nine million people in eighteen months? Of course not. That Tholian bastard is lying through his teeth. If they have teeth. There isn't enough Federation shipping to carry even half that, and they know it. Those treacherous crystal bugs are buttering us up for slaughter. " He paused, glancing back at their slowly panicking family. "It's going to get ugly, dear. It's going to get very ugly."
Closing her eyes briefly, Matriarch nodded before hugging her great-grandchild tighter. Then she opened her eyes again, glanced at the screen, and raised her bushy eyebrows, her wrinkled skin stretching in surprise. Patriarch followed her gaze, saw the suddenly revitalised news presenter on the vid-screen, and frowned.
"ALRIGHT, SETTLE DOWN AND SHUT UP YOU WHINING INGRATES!" he roared. His demand did the trick, instantly silencing the room and allowing everyone to hear the news presenter.
"-identify of the warp signatures, but...yes, it is now confirmed, spaceport sensors are detecting seven incoming signatures. The Tholian fleet is maintaining position, so the spaceport director is encouraging everyone to stay calm. This is almost certainly the first wave of Tholian reinforcements that were promised two weeks ago. I-yes, I have reports now that the police are ordering everyone to return to their homes, as these ships may be carrying ground troops to fully occupy Menelax. The governor is...oh, wait, we are now connected to a satellite in orbit which will be able to see the new arrivals come out of warp."
The screen flicked to a view of the blackness of space, the stars flickering innocently. "As you can see, they have clearly yet to arrive. We remind our viewers that it could be a few minutes yet before the ships come out of warp, but when they do arrive, we should be able to give you a perfect view. There is, as of yet, no sign of any reaction from the Tholian fleet. We remind viewers that these would be the first ships to arrive at Menelax since the Tholians attacked the planet a month ago. There has been some speculation about...oh, there they are!"
On the heel of his words, three ships decelerated out of warp together, clearly in a formation. But they weren't Tholian at all; instead, all three ships had the distinctive white hulls, nacelles and circular bows.
"Starfleet," Patriarch whispered, staring.
"Those are quite clearly Federation starships," the news presenter said quickly with professional equanimity. "We are receiving details from the spaceport authorities now that they are Miranda-class starships of Starfleet. They are the USS Adroit, the USS Kupua and the USS Alsace." Then, behind them, another starship warped in, its saucer, secondary hull and high nacelles familiar to everyone in the room, even the youngest child. "Oh my word. That is a Constitution-class starship, ladies and gentlemen, the USS Yorktown, one of the oldest and most distinguished vessels in Starfleet."
Patriarch suddenly realised that his wife had reached out to hold his hand, and looking around the room, he saw the rest of his family making similar gestures. The onslaught of relief was overwhelming. And then the last three ships arrived, one after another in a line before the vanguard of the smaller Mirandas.
"And there go the last three ships. The spaceport director indicates that the first vessel is the USS Stargazer, a Constellation-class starship and one of the most modern in the fleet. The second vessel appears to be the USS Churchill, an Alliance-class starship, while the last ship, the largest, is one of the newest Excelsior-class starships in the fleet, the USS Everest. This is truly astonishing, ladies and gentlemen. A battle for the future of our world is about to begin in our skies...and, if you should choose to do so, you can watch it all here, on the Menelax Evening News."
For all the relief and tears of joy at the arrival of Starfleet, that optimism faded as the two fleets began to square off with each other in orbit. Patriarch, as an old spacefarer, gruffly provided his family with commentary throughout it all, even if he hated to do it. Unlike everyone else, he had been up there, had felt the darkness of cold vacuum and the awful heat of overloaded conduits, merciless weapons fire and the blood of his friends. He knew what was about to happen up there, to Starfleet and Tholian alike, and he wanted nothing more than to stay silent, but he narrated anyway.
The Tholians outnumbered Starfleet more than two to one, fifteen golden warships against seven silver starships. Still, the Tholian vessels were smaller and less well-armed, although their sole battleship was even bigger than the Excelsior-class USS Everest. It was, at least roughly, a fair fight.
Which meant that when the shooting began, it turned into a blood-soaked nightmare.
The phaser and torpedo fire was intense, cutting into both fleets with horrible results. Tholian ships exploded one by one, overwhelmed, but they inflicted their own lethal wounds on their enemies. The Adroit was badly hit early on, its nacelles going dark with damage, and the crippled ship withdrew from the battle. Then the Alsace was destroyed, the nimble Miranda overextending on an attack run and falling under the guns of the Tholian battleship which obliterated the small vessel in a single devastating salvo.
The Yorktown was next. The elderly Constitution-class ship was caught by four Tholian ships that quickly spun a web, snaring their prey. The other Starfleet ships rushed to save their stricken comrade, but to no avail. The golden strands of the web contracted slowly as escape pods launched away from the stricken vessel until finally, the strands of the web touched the silver hull, and as if like throwing a switch, the Yorktown exploded as well. The children gasped in horror; stunned. They had all heard stories about the legendary Yorktown, its many captains and its famed adventures, and they'd even imagined their own adventures with that ship in the playground. Seeing it die broke their little hearts.
But the carnage wasn't yet done. After two hours of fighting, with the Starfleet task force occasionally withdrawing to regroup, the four ships still capable of battle once again returned to attack the Tholians. By now, the Tholian force was in shambles; only three of the smaller frigates remained along with their battleship, but they gamely turned to meet their attackers. The end result was quick in contrast to the long, deadly slog of the past two hours, but no less horrible for it.
The last smaller Tholian frigates were blown away with contemptuous ease by the Churchill and the Stargazer,, but their attack runs left the Everest and the Kapua vulnerable to the damaged but still dangerous Tholian battleship. Bright red phasers and torpedoes were fired in desperation, but the Tholians continued with grim determination, their golden weapons brutally battering the Everest. One of its long nacelles went dark and a huge explosion carved away a huge chunk of the secondary hull, and content that its prey was defeated, the Tholian battleship turned away to destroy the outgunned Kapua just as it had destroyed the Alsace. The Churchill and the Stargazer rushed desperately in to save their doomed comrade...but they were too late.
Instead, from nowhere, the crippled Everest suddenly surged into motion, rushing towards the Tholian battleship. There was no time to evade; the Tholians had barely begun to turn away when the Everest's rammed directly into the battleship, the hulls crumpling around each other before finally vanishing in a blinding explosion.
Silence filled the family home. Nobody had any idea how to react. They just watched the screen in stunned horror.
"Well, how about that," Patriarch said bitterly. "They 'won'."
"Is it over, Grandfather?" Bixel, his eldest granddaughter, asked hesitantly.
Thinking of the Tholian fortress only sixty kilometers away from the city, still manned by soldiers, Patriarch sighed. "I wish it were, Bixel. I wish it were."