Chapter Two
Pearce gazed at the ultra-blue magnificence that radiated from the neutron star. It seemed almost a sin to use this location for an ambush, he thought to himself. The Tempest had been sitting within the interference bubble provided by the collapsed core, a practice strange enough for a tactical vessel that it evoked a comment from one of the bridge officers. "Sir, with all do respect, why are we out here again? A Romulan invasion fleet in this area makes little sense." The young Trill lieutenant seated at the ops station asked with a confidence unbefitting of her rank, inciting a raised eyebrow from Pearce. "Starfleet Command would not have ordered us out here if they did not have confidence in the integrity of the intel, lieutenant." "Of course, sir, I just don't like sitting still. And there hasn't been anything on long-range sensors." Pearce displayed a vague smile. "Patience is an important virtue."
A few seconds later, he spoke again. "Computer, execute command Pearce-C01." The computer chimed in response. The bridge crew became inquisitive, but no one asked questions. "Captain, I'm detecting an encrypted transmission on a typically Romulan frequency coming from our ship. It appears to be-," she was cut off. "Disregard it, Lieutenant Leran." "But sir, protocol clea-," she was cutoff again. "That is an order, Lieutenant." Sidza Leran continued to tap away at the console, becoming increasingly agitated by her ill-defined mission and secretive commanding officer. She knew something wasn't right, but decided it would be prudent not to get her first posting as a bridge officer screwed over a hunch. She began her own forensic investigation, of course not informing the Captain, only to discover moments later the customized, encrypted hail originated from the computer's execution of script Pearce-C01. Where they trying to deceive Romulans? Or perhaps communicate with them? 'It wouldn't be the first time a Romulan disguised as a Vulcan was aboard a Federation ship,' she thought to herself. Sidza began to creep herself out when she turned and looked at Pearce's pointed ears, so she opted to turn her chair away from the Captain's.
"Captain, I'm detecting three Romulan vessels on an intercept course. Hull configurations match D'Deridex-class warbirds. They're traveling at high warp, about half an hour out." "Understood, Lieutenant." "Is this the invasion force?" Pearce ignored Sidza's comment. "Leran, prepare to continuously admit a jamming signal on all subspace frequencies." "Yes, sir." She entered the commands into the console, becoming increasingly more suspicious. "Tactical, activate all six torpedo launchers. Prepare a salvo of four quantum phase torpedoes for each tube. Be ready to fire on my order." "Sir, aren't we even going to try to hail them?" "This convoy is violating the neutral zone. We have intelligence specifying it is a military incursion. Logically, we are going to respond." "Logically, sir, we shouldn't be dumping a new weapon I've never even heard of on a handful of Romulans in the neutral zone! Hell, your little signal baited them here, didn't it?" Pearce looked at Sidza coldly, and with moving as few facial muscles as possible, uttered his dismissal. "Lieutenant Leran, you are relieved. Report to your quarters and remain there until further notice." Sidza got up, slightly stumbling, as her emotions took hold. She looked around at the officers on the bridge. The faces were unfamiliar, distracted with their own tasks. None showed support. Then it dawned on her. She just fried her record, for what? She knew something was wrong, but there was nothing she could do about it. She looked at Pearce again, who was unchanged, and then made way for the turbolift. Immediately, a nearby ensign took over her station, and prepared to activate the prescribed jamming function.
The three warbirds approached the neutron star and continued to probe the area. "Anything yet?" The half human massaged her right temple with her index finger. "No, Commander. This system is devoid of ships." "Yet we received a distress call!" "I am aware, Commander." Sela's headache seemed to intensify, and she worked her finger harder. "You know, I was dragged away from a speech on our stance were a Federation-Dominion war to break out. For what? We're out here for absolutely no reason! You!" she pointed at the officer seated at the communications station. "Arrange for someone else to hunt for clues. Set a course back to se-," "Commander, communications seem to be jammed. I'm working to correct it… it may be due to interference from the neutron star." "Jammed? Electromagnetic radiation jamming subspace communications? Doubtful. Prepare to perform a multi-phasic scan-" the vessel suddenly began beeping, loudly. "Commander! Three incoming torpedoes, originating from the far side of the star's corona!" Sela's face flushed as she realized she was exactly where someone wanted her to be. "Shields!" The vessel lurched with the impact of the torpedo, and the bridge began to darken. "Report!" "Commander, the shields seem to be in a state of flux – the generator is drawing an extreme amount of power! It's nearing an overload!" "How is that possible?" The ship lurched again, and suddenly the lighting returned to normal. The tactical officer spoke almost immediately. "The shield generator overloaded. Sensors indicate the Vathos and Indiva were hit as well." Sela immediately began attempting to retain some portion of the advantage she was normally used to. "Prepare to cloak. Keep scanning for enemy vessels. I want weapons prepped and-," the Commander's sentence abruptly ended as her molecules were transformed into energy and removed from the bridge of the warbird.
The Tempest rapidly accelerated out from behind the star, targeting the convoy of now-defenseless Romulan ships. Pearce smiled as the display on his chair's arm indicated a successful, and unlogged, transport. To his surprise, he needed far less of the experimental weaponry than he thought he did to eliminate the shielding, and opted to be more conventional. "Tactical, prepare a large spread of photon torpedoes. Eliminate the warbirds." "Aye, sir," came the shaky reply of the man stationed at weapons. A few seconds later, decompression noises were audible as orange streaks spewed from the Tempest's forward torpedo tubes. They quickly rammed themselves into the main bodies of the warbirds, detonating and fragmenting the hulls into millions of tiny splinters. Satisfied with his work, he ordered a prompt retreat. With the blue light of the pulsar reflecting off the now-broken D'Deridex hulls, the escort flashed into high warp, returning to Federation space.