PATTERNS OF INVASION
By: Dan Bivens
Chapter 4/Conclusion
COMMODORE'S LOG, STARDATE: 2635.1. Having met privately, yet also officially, with Captain James T. Kirk, Dr. Leonard H. McCoy, Lieutenant-Commander Montgomery Scott, and Commander Spock in my centrally located office, it has become clear that, due to a fatalistic mistake made by three of these four officers, all of the Federation and Starfleet now face perhaps the worst example of invasion in over a century! As a high-ranking command-grade constituent of Starfleet Command, I have taken it entirely upon myself to, first, send a subspace request for all active starships to converge in this general region in order to engage the group of Nazi starships, having evidently already destroyed most if not all of Ch'Lonn Three in the 61 Cygni system, as no subspace messages to their homeworld have yet been answered. I must assume the worst. Just as I must sit in on a special circumstances inquest to consider a court-marshal against Captain Kirk, Dr. McCoy, and Mr. Spock, specifically. With a cursory set of potential charges brought to bear upon Lt.-Commander Scott, whom had been in charge of the ENTERPRISE during its standard orbital status about planet Ekos in system M34. As to charges brought against on-duty bridge personnel in particular, such shall be decided at a later date.
Ding-ding! Ding-ding! Ding-ding!
"Let the records show that I, Commodore Cameron Trent of Starbase 13," said the middle-aged desk-jockey, as such a term still pertained to officer's of rank that, in point of fact, had never ever actually commanded, in the sense of those, like Kirk, who'd sat in the center seat of an active starship. "Have ordered these proceedings in lieu of actual charges to be brought regarding gross misconduct on behalf of these three ENTERPRISE officers directly related to the events currently taking place surrounding space."
Commodore Trent took a tense pause, after gently setting aside the small metal-topped mallet traditionally used to ring the bench bell in order to officially start such centuries-old military matters. Looking resplendent in his dress uniform tunic of green with an impressive display of colorful mini-triangular metals, standard for anyone higher than an Ensign, with gold-braided, as well as exceedingly stiff, collar as said gold braid ran straight and smooth down the front of the tunic.
As to the trio of top officers from the USS ENTERPRISE, they had been denied time to return via transporter to their respective starship cabins in order to change into their own dress uniform tunics. They, therefore, sat at the rectangular table arranged directly before the bench, behind which sat the Commodore and two of his own top officers, also in dress tunics, wearing the self-same common duty-uniform tunics each had been wearing when first arriving at Starbase 13.
Even the red tunic-wearing security personnel, Ensigns both, wore dress tunics while standing at attention to either side of the double-door entry/exit of this hastily established setup for what Kirk and company continually contested as being a travesty of justice and a dangerous waste of time.
Time that could be better utilized in at least slowing the Nazi Ekosian invasion until more starships arrived.
"Captain Kirk," said Trent after tugging on his too stiff, and even itchy, previously implied by such as McCoy or Scotty, dress tunic. "As already explained, this is merely a semi-official inquest to see if there is sufficient reason to bind you and your fellow officers, and, quite possibly, the standing bridge crew of the ENTERPRISE, over to Starfleet Command for official court-marshal proceedings. Is that understood?"
"The only thing I need to understand, sir," said Kirk stiffly with borderline insubordination to his tense tone and facial affectation, "is why, again, are we wasting precious time on an inquest, official or not! When the ENTERPRISE needs to get out there and try to at least hold off the Ekosian invasion force until those other starships arrive to…!"
Pounding hard thrice over with a traditional court gavel to swiftly silence "Defendant #1" of three, so far, Commodore Trent stated, even as he half-rolled his salt-and-pepper haired head in an apparent attempt to create a "comfort zone" within the stiffness of his braided collar, "I've already explained the reasons, Captain. You, yourself, said that a single starship simply could not hold out any hope of preventing this so-called Nazi fleet from continuing on their destructive course into the very heart of Federation space! Therefore, there would be no logical reason to…"
When it came to the word "logic", only a single individual, with slanted eyebrows, pointed ears, and pale, green-tinged, stoic countenance, also seated at the table-of-the-cursorily accused, was, essentially, an expert.
"Sir," said Spock imperturbably, sitting stiff-backed with longish limbs folded across the narrow chest in the uniform tunic, standard dress, of middling blue. "Though I, personally and professionally, concede, as first officer and science officer of the USS ENTERPRISE, the improbability of potential triumph from pitting a solitary starship against several…even though theirs consist of century-old weaponry and less-efficient warp drive…I must state that, strictly speaking in regards to regulations revolving around the irrefutable fact that any and all such Starfleet vessels as the ENTERPRISE are bound by undeniable duty to Federation worlds and peoples to essentially risk all in a situation such as this, whereby the resulting…"
Once again, Trent thrice struck the gavel against the smooth surface of the hastily contrived tribunal bench, in order to promptly interrupt the too-literal, totally logical, half-Vulcan/half-Human sitting between Captain James T. Kirk, to Spock's left, and Dr. Leonard H. McCoy, to Spock's right.
Causing Spock to lift a single slanted brow in a manner his commanding officer fully recognized, as an expression of insult from the half-Vulcan's Human half.
"Once again, Mr. Spock, rest assured that starships are on course for this general Quadrant's Sectors, as per my earlier transmission via subspace to them," heaved an overly self-important Commodore flanked by officers of proper hearing rank, one Lieutenant-Commander and one Commander. "Releasing you and your ship shall do nothing more than complicate an already complex situation. A situation that would've never come to pass had you, Dr. McCoy, and Captain Kirk retrieved, by any means necessary, the Gestapo-taken hand phasers before transporting back up to the ENTERPRISE. And making absolutely certain that Melakon, shot by a Zeon posing as an SS soldier accompanying the three of you in similarly stolen Nazi-Ekosian uniforms, was, indeed, dead before warping away as you inevitably decided to do…none of this would be at all necessary!"
"This is ridiculous!" spat McCoy in quite obvious insubordination with a corresponding scowl. "Commodore, I don't know how the hell you got those thick gold sleeve braids, but if you had one iota of real experience against seemingly impossible odds when on a celebrated starship, such as the ENTERPRISE, that has, on several occasions, literally saved the Federation as well as…!"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"That's enough, Dr. McCoy!" Trent said with a sneer of insult-aggravated anger while having to force himself to at least sound like a purely duty-bound Starfleet official. "Though this is not a true Starfleet Command Court-Marshal, as yet, there are still proper protocols to attend and one of them is that a Defendant can not fly in the face of anyone who outranks him! You do have the right to present, orally, defensive explanations to any and all allegations, but you must do so with a modicum of order! Now…let us proceed."
Even as Kirk and McCoy allowed a louder-than-necessary sound of derision to roll forth, Spock, one slanted brow still lifted, silently reasoned, via actual equation-based processes within the totally orderly multitasking mind of the Vulcan, that by the time starships traveling at maximum-plus warp speed arrived at combatively executable distances from said Nazi vessels…untold billions would, logically, either die or, at best, be forced into slave-labor survivors to somehow assist in continued Ekosian invasion.
Even though, in theoretical Truth, the odds that the ENTERPRISE, no doubt now completely repaired with phaser banks recharged and photon torpedoes replaced, could truly hold back such an invasion force long enough to significantly alter such depressing, from a Human-emotion standpoint, prospects was 7,927.342-to-one against, it still seemed reasonable to at least attempt it rather than hold a potentially illegal inquest.
And what of those Nazi starships sent forth by an assassination-surviving Führer Melakon back on Ekos of M34 dozens of light-years in the invading armada's warp-drive wake?
"Report!" Col. Ethok almost shouted as several soldiers and officers, occupying primitive stations about the octagonal-arranged bridge atop the Nazi starship serving to lead the rest, were expeditious in their respectful replies.
"Approaching fourth Federation planetary system at a sustained speed of Warp Factor Five, Col. Ethok!"
"Attack vectors plotted and laid in, sir!"
"Phased energy cannons fully charged for orbital firing at your command, Colonel!"
"Sensor scans show no opposing vessels, Colonel, sir!"
Relaxing a little into his crude command chair in the center of the cramped bridge, the Colonel's eyes stayed practically glued to the static-ridden viewscreen's display of a near-distant planet of Class-M specification with five mid-sized moons. Already a part of their computer-contained data. Gleaned from information forcefully collected and correlated from two other recently-attacked/occupied worlds within the United Federation of Planets. After attacking and half-obliterating the planet of the abducted, dead hostage, Ambassador Trellius, long before reaching two others that fell just as quickly even though they were worlds of significantly longer Federation affiliation.
"We have more than enough occupation camps setup since leaving Ekos," said a sadistically sneering, insanely glaring Colonel in black. "More than enough slaves to work as we see fit. This world shall serve as the best example of our Führer's Ultimate Task. All ships…surround this sorry excuse for a civilization and destroy it utterly! Down to the last man, woman, and child! Heheheh, heh, heh, heh!"
But, even as these starships of century-old Starfleet design did so, something, unknown to the self-proclaimed Ekosian "Master Race", had been a secretively collective action taken by the tens of thousands, out of billions!, of Zeon survivors/slaves. During their forced round-the-clock labor construction, in orbital space surrounding Zeon via standard pressure/oxygen supplied spacesuits, such was purposely completed to be quite claustrophobic.
So unswervingly convinced were these Nazi-minded Ekosians of their supposed superiority that they had no idea that such had been the plan of Zeon slaves. Supplying said invaders with what appeared to be the equal to such as the USS ENTERPRISE. When, in actuality, this "superior race" were, when it came to warp speed limitations, energy weapons, and even protective force field shielding levels, granted starships totally inadequate to an equal number of present-day Starfleet starships.
Something that would, even as this collection of vessels slowly, using thrusters only now, positioned themselves at predetermined points around the Earth-like planet so many dozens of light-years from the imaginary boundary in space that separated the United Federation of Planets from the M34 system wherein Zeon and Ekos existed. Both once slated for eventual inclusion into the Federation once peace swept across Ekos' surface.
On the lead Nazi Ekosian starship, whereupon Col. Ethok sat in his center seat like a micro-emperor, a helmeted soldier in gray-green uniform informed his Gestapo-based superior in solid black of something exceptionally dire transpiring in nearby normal space.
"Col. Ethok! Sensor sweeps are picking up a half-dozen Starfleet starships dropping from warp drive into normal space! Closing fast in attack vectors centered on us!"
Col. Ethok, too-slowly responding, as was expected for someone who truly believed they were supreme and that their race's destiny precluding the slightest possibility of such an attack by technically superior starships, finally…
"Evasive action! Open fire on the incoming craft! Obliterate them all! Heil Melakon!"
Struggle as did these officers and soldiers, practically packed within the octagonal-arranged bridge of such claustrophobic construction, yet another purposeful self-defeating function secretly created by Zeon slaves!, they simply could not turn the Nazi ships, still using thrusters only, in time. Nor could protective force fields be erected quickly enough nor were the primitive phased energy cannons capable of accurately firing at out-of-range, for them!, Starfleet starships.
"Colonel!" shouted the SS officer seated at the combination console for limited helm and navigations. Even as Col. Ethok became catatonic due to his staggering disbelief even as their somewhat static-interrupted viewscreen display denoted mid-distant Constitution-class starships slowing at what, for their 23rd Century designed phaser banks and existing matter-antimatter photon torpedoes, was considered maximum firing range.
"Th-this…c-can't…b-be…"
For those whose imaginations could still consider outside observation as space-walking pressure-suited individuals watching what swiftly took place in the span of mere minutes in real time…
Crimson phaser bank beams lashed out silently through the vacuous void of normal near-planet space to easily destroy most of the still-slowly turning, via thrusters, Ekosian starships. Boldly brandishing building-sized blood-red square-shaped fields within which were gargantuan rings of white displaying sizeable black slanted swastikas with such sickening self-importance. Turning them into tiny spinning pieces of dense metal amidst swiftly exploding, silently still, interior artificial atmospheres amidst simultaneous incendiary destruction of energy-contained contrivances.
As to the hundreds of Nazi-uniformed, both officers in black from cap to knee-high boots to W.W. II-type helmeted soldiers in gray-green, they were granted an instantly peaceful demise via disintegration.
As to those vessels of Ekos' Nazi regime impacted by photon torpedoes, such blue-energy delivered matter-antimatter destruction seemed much more barbaric as their hundreds of officers and soldiers were sent either whole or halved, physically, out through the freezing airlessness surrounding their now-demolished vessels.
Just like that, it was over. Or, rather, an invasion force sent toward the heart of the United
Federation of Planets had been abruptly halted.
However, there was still the question of Ekos itself with a planet-wide distribution of millions of hate and rage-filled Nazis relying on retro-engineered, from 23rd Century hand phasers devices, devices under a mad Führer's unflagging faith that such as he was destined for interstellar greatness.
This would prove the greatest fight thus far for Starfleet.
And none commanding these six, out of a total of twelve, Constitution-class starships doubted for a single solitary second that such a pre-emptive strike against Ekos in M34 could be successfully launched without…
"Captain James T. Kirk," said a smug Commodore Cameron Trent after a brief discussion via hushed asides with his Lieutenant-Commander and Commander in what, to Kirk, McCoy, and Scotty, seemed to be dozens of molasses-slow hours. Though, to such as the logically structured, equation-equipped mind of Mr. Spock, was scarcely more than two. "It has been decided by this special circumstances board of informal inquiry that sufficient evidence exists regarding you and your top officers' duplicitous reciprocity regarding a still-existing Nazi-styled military on Ekos eventually developing vessels and energy weapons based solely upon retro-engineered hand phasers left behind when…"
At that exact instant, amidst the immediately recognizable transporter whine, while the molecular structures of four seated Defendants dematerialized right before the eyes of the three dress-tunic uniformed officers at the makeshift bench and the dress-tunic uniformed, in bright red, Ensigns with phaser ones attached at their hips…
"Stop them!"
No sooner had those two words been so riotously shouted by the now-standing Commodore Trent to the security personnel suddenly pulling phaser pistols off their respective hips…
"What happened?" Kirk asked the instant he stepped off the turbolift onto the bridge of his still-docked, inside a big bay of the umbrella-shaped section of Starbase 13, along with Spock, Scotty, and McCoy. "Who ordered an illegal transporting out of…?"
"I did, Jim," said a voice via unseen speakers, causing Kirk to look in the direction of the forward viewscreen's crystal clear display of a smiling starship commander from the bridge of his vessel situated just outside the said duranium-shell starbase.
"Bob," half-grinned Kirk in instant recognition of a friend and fellow starship commander also recognized by an always logical and stoic Spock, now seating himself at his starboard-positioned science station even as Scotty did the same at his port-positioned engineering station. "I take it you have Admiral-approved orders to instigate this 'break-out' from what, strictly speaking in regards to the regs, pre-Court-Marshal inquest?"
"Who's that?" muttered McCoy standing slightly behind his friend and official commanding officer in quiet indication of the man, in gold-green standard tunic for command grade ranks, whose handsome, though older, half-smirking/half-smiling face was framed by thick, largely silver hair brushed straight back.
"Commodore Robert Wesley of the USS LEXINGTON, Bones," quietly replied a broadly grinning and greatly relieved Captain Kirk, still staring at the full-faced display of Commodore Wesley on his sizeable bridge viewscreen. "Which means the Nazi Ekosian starship invasion has been stopped and the ENTERPRISE is going to lead the final assault on Ekos itself…to set right what we had done so wrong a solar-year ago."
"Stand by, Jim," said a smugly certain Commodore Wesley as he hand-signaled a go-ahead to the communications officer in red seated directly to his rear. "We're transmitting our official override orders regarding the ENTERPRISE's release to the C-and-C of Starbase 13. As soon as that's taken care of…"
Swiftly speeding at Warp Eight relativistic velocities, simulating some 552.9-billion kilometers per hour for close to two standard ship-elapsed sixty-minute intervals…
"Sensors picking up five more Starfleet starships, Captain," blandly reported the passionless half-Vulcan/half-Human officer in blue tunic while looking down into his station's scanner hood in order to rapidly read and relate the steady stream of data displayed via luminous blue light cast onto dark, slanted eyebrow eyes. "ETA: 4.56 minutes."
"On screen, Mr. Sulu," said Captain Kirk from his center seat, while a much more relaxed McCoy again stood to its side half-leaning against the left armrest without worrying about aggravating the man in gold-green uniform tunic with two solid and one broken braids of gold on its sleeves. "Magnification two-point-eight."
"Aye, aye, Captain," Sulu said with an equally relaxed tone and affectation while manipulating the proper helm-situated control in order to readily comply.
There, on the viewscreen's crystal clear, magnified nearly thrice over normal, display were four equally recognized Starfleet starships: the USS EXCALIBUR, the USS HOOD, the USS POTEMKIN, and the USS YORKTOWN.
All traveling, along with the returning USS LEXINGTON and the enjoining USS ENTERPRISE, straight for system M34 at Warp Factor Eight. Achieving FTL-simulated velocities some 512 times the speed-of-light. With phaser banks and photon torpedoes on standby and dozens of phaser two armed, as well as a few with phaser rifles, red-tunic uniformed security persons picked for beam-down in order to better facilitate the final surrender of a planet-wide Nazi societal-structured civilization.
Not to mention immediate release from abusive slavery of the tens of thousands of surviving Zeons who would, eventually, begin rebuilding and repopulating their ravaged by phased energy world.
As to Melakon, the supposedly fearless Führer leading these sadistic soldiers and officers wearing uniforms of Nazi design…
Pow!
…in much the same manner as the original Führer from Old Earth in March of 1945, Melakon chose the coward's way out via a perfectly reproduced 9mm Luger pistol of gunmetal black/blue pressed just so underneath his chin.
With a killed-by-his-own-hand Melakon now a bleeding-out corpse in the opulent office within the centralized building of Ekosian Nazi party power, as well as the total lack of surviving Nazi starships for protection and counterattack…
CAPTAIN'S LOG, STARDATE: 2636.8. Having successfully forced surrender on Ekos, as well as seizing any and all hand phaser-based designs for future energy weapons and starships and, also, retrieving any and all items connected with Old Earth Nazis, from flags to uniforms…Ekos now stands as a potential societal addition into the United Federation of Planets. With the constant assistance of Federation scientists, technicians, engineers, and social workers, brought by Starfleet starships to Zeon by the hundreds, the handful of Zeon survivors shall swiftly rise, once more, to become the eternally peaceful, scientifically advanced humanoid race they had been prior to the rise of Nazism so far removed, in time and space, from its horrid origins on a blue-green globe about a single yellow middle-aged star called…Sol.
END
