San Francisco, California, Earth, Mar 2157
"Captain Soames," President Thorpe said in greeting to the naval intelligence officer. Soames took the president's hand and after exchanging some pleasantries sat down opposite the leader.
"How is our project going?" Thorpe asked.
"The team is assembled," Soames replied. "We have cover stories for the team members during their absence. You know more than me about the status of their transportation."
"Yes," Thorpe replied happily. "That should be ready at the end of the month."
"How long will this little fishing expedition take sir?" Soames asked Thorpe.
"At least six months there and back," Thorpe answered. "How long they will be there is anyone's guess. Hopefully they can collect enough useful information on the Romulans in a short period of time."
"In the meantime we are starting the first in a series of offensive attacks," Soames stated. "You know about Deneva. We hope to get an idea of how many ships the Birdies have there as well as to hurt them." Erica paused and then continued. "We are starting to receive reports of more disappearances; mostly from single ships and convoys so far. This suggests a new Birdie weapon or tactic—or both."
"Things have been hanging by a thread for a long time," Thorpe answered. "I suppose we couldn't expect the Romulans not to come up with some nasty tricks. I just hope that our tricks turn out to be nastier."
"I must say that I was surprised by the introduction of new ships this soon," Soames said. "We were told at least six months."
"Micah Brack has proven to be a magician when it comes to motivating people," Thorpe replied. "He sat down with Forrest and found out what the admiral needed—now. The Yorktown was finished over two months ahead of schedule. The other carriers will roll out on schedule. Some of our ships from the outer squadrons underwent mam conversion in three weeks. Simply put we needed those ships out there."
"I see sir," Soames replied. "I'm glad it happened that way don't get me wrong. It just seems like a lot of official corners were cut." Soames knew that it was not her place as a military officer to advise the president on political matters. But the captain could listen to the news as well as others.
"My political fortune is my own captain," Thorpe said forcefully. The president took a deep breath and continued in a kindly tone then. "I'm sorry for biting your head off captain. That was uncalled for. I know that Glenn and Sheibani are nipping at my heels." Thorpe laughed bitterly. "Stupid fools, the future of our race is at stake and they act like this is a college debate. History will judge what I've done."
"History has treated some great leaders harshly sir," Soames said sympathetically. "Why don't you expose the truth about the missiles buried in the American Prairie and the Iranian Peninsula? I know they didn't turn them over to the United Earth government out of the kindness of their hearts."
"All that would accomplish captain," Thorpe said sadly; "Is to reopen old wounds. We have barely started coming together as a race. The missiles were unearthed; but let's leave the hatred that put them there buried."
"Whatever will be as the old saying goes," Thorpe continued wistfully. "Have we heard from our secret agent?" This last Thorpe asked with a grin on his face. Soames had told the president of her officer's reluctance to accept the role of spy.
"I don't know how fruitful sending Tara there will be sir," Soames answered quietly. When Thorpe asked her to explain the intelligence officer plunged ahead reluctantly. "His last message said that he was going to try to infiltrate an archeological dig that had been closed off by the Pointies' High Command. Somehow I just don't understand why he is doing that. I thought his purpose there was to act as a go between from whatever friends we have in the Vulcan government and us. Now he is being drawn into some senseless fiasco from what I see. How a Vulcan archeological dig can aid us against the Birdies escapes me."
"I see your point captain," Thorpe answered. "But the Vulcans asked for him. There was some sense that he would be free to move about on their world. I'm not sure I even understood it. But I accepted it; if we could somehow get the Vulcans to come over to our side that would aid our cause immensely. Let's see how all of that plays out."
"Very well sir," Soames replied.
"Things are looking up!" Thorpe exclaimed with a forced grin. "Grant me my optimism captain. The new ships will soon be launched. The Andorians have helped with the manpower shortage. The Tellarites have as well; they just don't have the reserves that the Andorians have."
"About that sir," Soames interjected. "I'm being beaten about the head and shoulders by our skippers over their new crewmembers."
"I'm not surprised," Thorpe answered. "Tell them that they can rest easy. This alliance won't last the year if we fall back on our old habit of hiding things from our friends."
"Speaking of time and the alliance sir," The intelligence officer hesitated then plunged ahead. "I know it is premature at this stage but what is the long-term plan? I mean there is an expectation held by many that we need to go all the way to Romulus. What if the Birdies offer some sort of negotiated deal or settlement?"
Thorpe stood up, walked to the window and looked out into the clear California sky. The sun lit the Golden Gate Bridge turning the bay and bridge into a sparkling kaleidoscope of color. The president clasped his hands behind his back then said quietly: "I've laid awake many nights wondering about the answer to that very question. I know the people are calling for blood and part of me wants that too." Thorpe turned back to face the seated captain. "But we have to be very careful here Erica. We can ill afford another Eastern Coalition or fascist Germany."
"What if the Birdies leave us no other choice except total victory?" Soames asked quietly.
"I fear that option the most," Thorpe replied. "If this new alliance is to last it can only be as an enlightened democracy where its citizen's freedom are put before government interests." Thorpe sighed. "I fear that if we become an occupying power then we'll go the way of the old European states or old America. I said history will judge me captain but I hope to God that it does not label me as the founder of a galactic empire."
Savannah, Georgia, Earth Mar 2157
The dog looked up expectantly as Trip Tucker stomped into the back of the farm house. The Stellar Navy officer was in his stocking feet as his boots had collected some of the refuse from cleaning the Stiles' barn. Sparks surveyed Trip wearily then whimpered slightly and curled up on a rug by the stove. Tucker suspected that the dog was missing Henry Aaron Stiles. Tucker wondered what the man had been like and wished that he could have met him. Trip wished that his sister had not been killed too.
Command had granted extended leave to those who had lost people in Florida. Tucker had formed a friendship with Commodore Jocelyn Stiles. Both of the naval officers had lost people in the Romulan attack. So it was that Trip had found himself bouncing between his parents' temporary abode in Biloxi and the Stiles' farm in Georgia. Tucker felt better around the woman for some reason. He was starting to warm up to her as far as was possible but had discovered that Jo-jo had become distant. Tucker had decided that he had misjudged things and decided to move on when Kendra Stiles had called him asking for his help with farm chores. The lieutenant commander had been more than happy to do that. Trip's own parents had become sullen and withdrawn after the death of their daughter.
"Thanks for coming down and doing those jobs for me," Kendra Stiles said as she walked into the kitchen. "With the war and all it is hard to find help. The community pitched in where they could but I understand that they have lives and farms too."
"You're welcome ma'am," Tucker replied. Trip tried to help as the woman laid out lunch but Kendra Stiles shook off the man's help: Fried chicken, some of the leftover beans grown from the Stiles' fields in a tangy barbecue sauce and salad. There was cold lemonade and hot coffee to drink. Tucker sat down at last. Stiles sat opposite the man but only picked at her food.
"I was hoping that Jo-jo would come back before she ships out," Kendra Stiles said at last. "I was hopin' that you two could get back together."
"I get the feeling that she isn't interested in me that way ma'am," Tucker replied after swallowing a bite of chicken. "I guess with everything that happened maybe everyone was reachin' out to someone."
"There is that," The older woman answered. "But look here Trip: I know my girl. Sure everyone was hurt after," Kendra Stiles' voice trailed off but she continued after a brief pause. "But I could see her eyes light up when you would come down. I've seen that look before. But it isn't only that." The woman looked with unwavering eyes at Trip.
"She's changed," Stiles began. "She has her dad in her and Henry got that same look of determination when he set his mind to somethin'. Jo-jo gets that look too but this time there was something more." When Tucker asked what that might be the woman sighed and continued. "Don't you think I hate those Birdie bastards for what they did? Of course I do. Sometimes I wish we could go there and kill every goddamned one of them." Tucker looked at the woman in amazement. He knew that she was not one to curse. Jo-jo had told him that. "But we cain't," Kendra said. "And I don't want to spend the rest of my life holding on to hate."
Stiles reached out and took Trip's hand tightly in hers. "She said she is on Mars checkin' out her ship. She couldn't say when she was leavin' but I think it is soon. Go there Trip. Go see her. Remind her that there are things in life worth livin' for. One day all this is gonna be over. She needs—you both need something to come home to."
Tucker had a difficult time looking at the woman. How could he say no he wondered? He realized that he could not. Tucker had felt a lift in his spirits when the woman had referred to Jocelyn's eyes lighting up. Trip was not sure if there was anything genuine there or not. But now he realized that he had to find out one way or another.
"I'll go ma'am," Tucker said at last. He would have to make the time. The navy had been generous with the leave but Trip was scheduled out in twenty days. Tucker had initially received orders to return to Ganymede. Tucker had had a heated secure subspace radio conversation with Jonathan Archer when Trip had requested instead to be assigned to one of the new warships. So it was that Tucker was to report to the newly completed Tannhauser class Trafalgar as chief engineer.
Stiles nodded her thanks then continued in a sharper tone. "And the same goes for you young man. You have to ask yourself: Would your sister want you livin' your life full of hate and grief?" She looked sharply at Tucker as the man slowly shook his head. "Good!" Stiles exclaimed.
"I gotta admit though ma'am," Tucker said sheepishly. "I feel a little bad running off and leaving you with all this work."
"Henry junior is around," Kendra Stiles replied. "He is in West Virginia visiting his fiancée. He can finish up a lot of the work. Planting will be soon. I'm hopin' I can hire some of the young boys too young for the war but with strong backs." The woman released Trip's hand. The two finished their meal.
UES Fearless, Utopia Planitia, Mars, Mar 2157
Lt. Cmdr. Jeffrey Sutton made the transition from the yard turbo-tube to the airlock of the Fearless. The new operations officer knew that the Pioneer class cruiser's departure had been delayed several days while final checks were made on the new mam reactor. The ship's formerly inbound third in command was still being treated for decompression sickness received when his ship had been hulled in the Romulan attack on earth. Sutton's name had come up as a last minute replacement. At thirty-three the one-hundred and eighty centimeter tall lieutenant commander was an imposing figure. Sutton had wrestled in high school and college and still maintained that compact muscular physique. His head of brown hair was cut short but not as severely so as was the fashion in the navy these days.
Last minute decisions, Sutton thought had been the story of his life so far. Sutton had grown up in a family of lawyers. It was expected that young Jeffrey would go to Emily Dickinson to pursue his legal degree when, at the last minute the St. Petersburg native had received an invitation from Florida State University to study physics. Jeff considered his choices: Freezing in a cold Pennsylvania town or languishing in the Florida sun as a FSU Seminole. Sutton had always liked the sun. Sutton had left for Tallahassee after a fierce argument with his parents and older brother. Jeff graduated five years later with a degree in physics and a minor in mechanical engineering. Sutton then had lined up a lucrative position with MIG-Bell when at the last minute a boyhood friend had asked Sutton to go with him to the Stellar Navy recruiting center in Miami. At the last minute Sutton had turned down MIG-Bell to instead wear a US Air Force uniform as part of the Stellar Navy. Sutton had enjoyed his time as an airman aboard the old Bozeman. That ship was no more Sutton thought remorsefully. Sutton had intended to complete his tour and get on with his life when; at the last minute Capt. Negombo had convinced Sutton that he had a glowing career as a naval officer. Sutton had debarked at earth not to muster out of the Air force but rather to report to Officer Candidate School at the new Star Fleet Academy in San Francisco.
That had been ten years ago Jeff mused as he was greeted by a stern looking Tellarite. Sutton had been briefed about the alien help the navy was receiving. But this was his first direct experience with it. Sutton noted that though the Tellarite wore the shiny one-piece uniform of his military a rank badge on his chest showed that his rank was equivalent to a petty officer third class.
"Are you supposed to be on my ship?" The Tellarite asked belligerently. Sutton presented a data wafer to the Tellarite. The lieutenant commander knew that greeting passed for respect among the Tellarites. The security chief inserted the wafer into a reader. The Tellarite looked at the reader's screen then back at Sutton. "Okay I guess you are supposed to be here. The first officer will expect you to check in. You don't have all day!"
Sutton nodded and thanked the security chief. Sutton knew the layout of Pioneer class ships. His last assignment had been as gunnery officer aboard the now destroyed Victory. The tragic death of Sutton's parents last year in a groundcar accident had ensured that Sutton did not ship out on what had been the last cruise of the Victory. Sutton had been given a stint as an instructor at Star Fleet Academy while he was being counseled over the passing of his parents. Sutton made his way through the passageways of the Fearless. Despite the gruff chief's advice Jeff stopped by engineering to see 'it'.
It was the new matter/anti-matter reactor. Sutton looked with some trepidation at the twenty meter long chamber running most of the length of engineering. The rational part of Sutton's mind knew that fusion reactors were powerful and could be dangerous if starved of coolant. But this beast Jeff thought with some trepidation; just twenty-eight grams of the power source for this monster could propel the bulk of a Pioneer cruiser out of the system and a third of the way to Alpha Centauri. An Andorian wearing a Stellar Navy jersey with black pants and boots greeted him. The rank stripes indicated that the Andorian was a lieutenant commander.
"You must be the new ops officer," The Andorian said in greeting. "I am Lt. Cmdr. Shato." The Andorian noticing Sutton's stare continued in explanation. "We were told that we could wear our Guardsmen uniforms or Stellar Navy uniforms. I had too many questions about my Imperial Guard uniform so I thought this would be easier for the pink—I mean humans."
"Pink-skin is fine with me," Sutton responded. "But I prefer to think of myself as tanned and ruddy." Sutton motioned to the Fearless's new reactor. "I did a thesis on matter/anti-matter. But I'll tell you it is a lot different seeing it up close and personal like this."
"We have had problems with the matrix and the magnetic insulators," The engineer said, clearly agitated about the situation. "We were supposed to push out last week. But we are ready now. We should be underway by this evening." The alien noticed Sutton's Star Fleet Command patch. "You are sort of old for a human graduate of that academy?"
"I was an instructor there up until two weeks ago," Sutton said quietly. When the alien nodded his understanding Jeff started to ask more about the ship's new power source when an Andorian woman approached the men.
"Good day Lt. Talas," Shato said bowing his head and antennae slightly in the woman's presence. The woman returned the greeting then turned to Sutton.
"You were supposed to report to the first officer were you not?" Talas asked sharply. Sutton noticed that Talas wore a rank badge like the Andorian security chief had worn. The badge showed that she was a commander. Sutton assumed that this was the Fearless' first officer.
"Yes sir," Sutton answered he was about to continue when Talas interjected:
"In case you haven't noticed I am not a man. I know that is a regulation in your navy but with Captain Oulette's consent I prefer either commander or ma'am. Is that understood?"
Sutton had indeed noticed that Talas was not a man. The lieutenant commander had been jumped by superior NCOs and officers before. So he was no stranger to adversity. Rather it was the alien's exotic beauty that held him spellbound for more than a few seconds. Finally Sutton realized that he should reply.
"That is understood commander—fully," The operations officer responded. "I was a technician when I first joined the Air Force and I majored in physics in college. So I was curious about the new mam reactors. I've read about them of course but this is my first experience with one."
"Then I suppose that it is okay then," Talas answered. "Your background in engineering and weapons is one of the reasons why Captain Oulette requested you. The captain likes for his officers to be skilled in all phases of ship's operations." The first officer was silent for a second then she added: "It is fortunate in a way that you stopped here. It gives you a chance to meet your new roommate." The Andorian woman motioned towards Shato. "You will start your first duty tour tomorrow; until then welcome aboard." Talas turned and stalked out of engineering.
"I should warn you that our first officer can be very direct," Shato said to an opened mouth Sutton. When the Andorian noticed Sutton's following glance of the first officer he added coyly. "I wouldn't think of her that way pink-skin."
"Why because I'm a pink-skin and she is Andorian?" Sutton asked in reply.
Shato laughed then said with a very human grin: "You humans say something." The Andorian was lost in though for a few seconds then finally said: "Grabbing a leopard by the tail. I'd warn you even if you were one of us."
"It's a tiger," Sutton corrected smiling. "Okay I see your point. Where are we anyway?" Sutton asked referring to their mutual quarters. When Shato told him the number to their quarters the lieutenant commander excused himself and made his way there.
Besides the monster in the engineering spaces the Pioneer class cruiser was laid out much the same as the Victory had been. That brought old memories of Jeff's friends back. They were all dead now. Killed in what had been some of the opening shots of the war. Sutton soon arrived at his quarters. The lieutenant commander punched in the code that Shato had given him. The door slid open.
Jeff would definitely have to talk about the room temperature with Shato. Jeff shivered and exhaled a visible stream of air as he entered the small common area. Sutton was glad that the sleeping cubicles had separate temperature controls. Jeff deposited his duffel bag in his area and started the chore of unpacking for his new home.
Hangar 51, Ganymede, Jupiter orbit, Mar 2157
Captain Michael 'Oliver' Cromwell hated this part. The soft-spoken native of the British Isles despised public speaking. Knowing the psychological reasons why that were so and all the methods one could use to overcome that fear did not help. Like a swimmer bracing for a dive into icy water knowing that the water was frigid did not lessen the actual feeling. The group of officers, enlisted people and civilian mission specialists were assembled in the shuttle bay of the Daedelus. Cromwell would've preferred to be addressing them from the same level. Instead he was standing on one of the maintenance platforms over top of the Daedelus' four shuttles. It added to Cromwell's distress that he knew that his image was being projected to those on duty aboard the Daedelus class cruiser.
Cromwell surveyed the crowd. The new mission specialists were there as well as the final members of the crew to have arrived. Cromwell spied the Picard woman again. To Cromwell when he looked at her it was like a thirsty man seeing an oasis in the desert. But the captain realized that he had to stifle those thoughts. Omar Bashir was off by himself as he had lit one of his large foul smelling cigars. Gertrude Schultheiss towered over most of those standing around her. The Daedelus' chief medical officer had her arms crossed over her chest. Cromwell's first officer Cmdr. Lisa Somers was looking intently at the crowd. The captain could tell that his XO was trying to get a measure of this new crew. The buffed up blonde was all business as far as Cromwell could determine. He liked that in his first officer. Houk his Tellarite operations officer was busy chatting away with the Daedelus' gunnery officer Lt. Masato Nakamura. Then there was the latest arrival: Lt. Alvin Crosby. Cromwell still did not know what to make of the naval intelligence officer. The man had struck him as friendly on the surface but there was something there that Cromwell could not lay his hands upon. But he could sense it. Crosby had training as a gunnery officer so Cromwell had assigned the intelligence officer on as a relief gunnery officer. It was time to take the plunge Cromwell realized.
"Good day," Cromwell began simply. "This is the final brief before we get underway. You have all received bits and pieces of information. I am going to fill in the parts that you probably don't know and have been guessing at. If you are here then you realize that even if you back out in the next two days you will be held here—in protective custody for at least three and for possibly six months. We are indeed going on a covert scouting mission to find out what we can about the Romulans. This ship unlike our other ships has an unparalleled range. I had handouts made for those who wanted to see," The captain said referring to small charts that showed a star map. Several in the crowd had the charts. Those who didn't looked on anxiously to their neighbors who did. "We are going to proceed north along the galactic plane. Once we have cleared charted space we will proceed at a Z-plus cruise—over the galactic plane. We can only guess at the extent of the Birdies empire. Robot drones have found little but in some cases where they were destroyed by Romulan ships we have used that as a baseline in constructing their border."
"It is hoped," Cromwell continued. The initial nervousness was gone. This was his ship, his crew. "It is hoped that the Birdies are not watching the farther reaches of their empire. We intend to sneak in there. We will of course be monitoring the electromagnetic spectrum as well as searching different systems for clues."
The captain grabbed the platform's handrail in both hands and leaned forward some. He had almost forgotten that one of those hands felt nothing; almost but not quite. "I must tell you that despite our recent victory things are still bad. How many ships and troops do the Romulans have? Was the attack on earth just a probing move? What are the Romulans goals? Are they conquerors or genocidal maniacs? Star Fleet Command needs answers to those questions. The old Chinese general once said: Know your enemy and know yourself. We know ourselves. We know nothing of the Birdies and that makes them all the more dangerous."
"See me after the brief for questions; if any," Cromwell added. "We leave in forty-eight hours. Now is the time to send messages to your loved ones. A reminder though that our Lt. Crosby will be censoring those messages. I'm sorry but you were aware of that when you chose to come on this mission. The station has limited recreational facilities for those who want to indulge. We are going to be together for at least six months; perhaps longer. So I suggest that as small as Hangar 51 is make use of the space. We will soon be living in closed quarters with one another."
Cromwell dismissed the crowd and proceeded down a metal stairway to the hangar floor. He didn't get far when Lt. Alvin Crosby confronted him. The man wanted to talk to Cromwell but didn't seem to know how to start. Michael asked the intelligence officer if there was a problem.
"Sir," Crosby began. "Uh me and Miss Picard are engaged. I was hoping that we could share quarters on this voyage?"
Cromwell could feel a small stab at the discovery of that fact. He mentally dismissed the stab; it was silly anyway for a man with his handicap and age to be thinking of such things. The captain turned to mentally review the possibilities of the cohabitation. Why in the hell had command sent an engaged couple on this mission Michael wondered? Well too late for recriminations now Cromwell thought. On the surface Cromwell saw nothing wrong with the change in sleeping quarters. Men and women had been sneaking into each other's quarters since the inception of a two gender military.
"That seems fine lieutenant," Cromwell answered. "But I am not a concierge. I suggest that you see Lt. Cmdr. Houk for a change of quarters." Cromwell saw that Crosby was about to protest then seemed to think better of it.
"Very well sir," The intelligence officer replied then turned and walked away. Commander Lisa Somers passed Crosby as the lieutenant was heading away. Cromwell noted the weary eye that his number one cast upon Crosby.
"I caught the tail end of that sir," Somers said. She continued: "About that; it appears that Crosby already asked Houk. It all seemed fine then the Picard woman said that she is happy where she is at."
"Where is Miss Picard staying anyway?" Cromwell asked.
"She is in with Dr. Schultheiss," Somers replied. "I just hope we haven't taken some personal problems aboard that needed to be resolved on earth."
"I concur," Cromwell said. The captain considered the problem for a moment. "Tell Mr. Crosby that the answer is no. Tell him on second thought that for crew morale reasons or some such I decided against it. I'll speak to him if you wish."
"No sir," Somers replied. "I'll do that." Gertrude Schultheiss took that moment to join the captain and first officer.
"What do you think of an engaged couple living together doctor?" Cromwell asked the tall woman.
"I know of whom you speak," Schultheiss said. The doctor wrinkled her face in consternation. "I advise against it. Mariel has been avoiding the lieutenant ever since he arrived here. It could be just a lovers' quarrel but that sort of distraction is not needed on a starship." Schultheiss looked at Somers nervously. An unspoken message seemed to pass between the two women. Somers excused herself.
"I wanted to speak to you of Crosby anyway," The doctor said. She looked around to see that the bay was relatively clear of people before she continued. "I reviewed Herr Crosby's medical record. He has recently been counseled for anger problems at the behest of his commanding officer in intelligence. The physician cleared him for service. It could be nothing of course but I think that the captain should be aware of it. By the way I prefer Trudy."
"Very well doc—Trudy," Cromwell said with a smile. When Cromwell saw that the doctor was not through, he inquired if there was anything further from her.
"You have been counseled yourself," Schultheiss said glancing at the captain's right arm. "And I will need to see you to ensure that infection is not setting in between the prosthesis and the cells in your shoulder. I am surprised that you did not complete the micro-fusion treatments."
"I wanted to get on with my life," Cromwell answered hastily. The captain knew that he had stopped receiving the surgical treatment that would connect his living nerves to those of the electronic sensors contained in his prosthetic arm. The treatments allowed amputees sensory input much as they had known from their lost limbs. The truth was that Michael saw himself as a freak every time he had to remove his shirt for an examination.
"Of course sir," Schultheiss answered. The German woman gave her captain a coolly appraising look. "But you still need to be examined for possible infections. True it is an extremely small number as to be negligible but still it must be done."
Cromwell set up a time for the examination before the scheduled departure of Daedelus. He knew that he would have his hands full once they were underway. Cromwell had shipped out one to many times to know of the growing pains that new crews suffered. Michael made small talk with the German doctor despite a feeling that she was looking into his soul a little too much. Cromwell knew that in addition to her medical degree Schultheiss was also held degrees in psychiatry. That was one of the reasons for her selection. Cromwell bid the doctor goodbye as Commander Jonathan Archer stepped into the bay.
"You bring my ship back in one piece," Archer said without preamble. The commander grinned widely. "You know on second thought this won't be so bad. You're getting the prototype. This'll be the ship with all the bugs. When I get my Daedelus class ship it will have been put through the wringer." Archer suddenly grew serious. "We have done everything we can Olly. If anyone can pull this mission off in this ship it'll be you."
"I appreciate the vote of confidence," Cromwell answered. "We shall see what the months bring."
"Anyway I wanted to hand you this," Archer said giving the captain of the Daedelus a piece of paper. "It just came over the comm traffic."
Cromwell read the short paragraph. "Bugger me!" He declared. "I guess this means full dress uniforms!"
"You sir," Archer replied grinning: "Are getting a presidential sendoff. I'm sure if this thing wasn't so damn secret that you would be on everyone's holographic tank!"
"I suppose I should have expected something like this," Cromwell said. "I better go to my quarters and see if the bloody thing fits!" Cromwell had never even tried on the new Stellar Navy formal uniform. The shimmering formal shirt had always impressed the captain as something to be worn by a circus performer rather than a military officer.
"I expected you to be here," Crosby said causing Mariel Picard to jump. The young woman was seated before a computer terminal in the stellar cartography section of the Daedelus. Picard turned quickly. The couple was alone.
"Alvin it is good to see you," Mariel rose slowly and joined the intelligence officer in an embrace. Crosby could feel her stiffness though. He did not like that.
"I have been told that we can't share quarters," Crosby said quietly. "I wonder though; at first the captain seemed to be all for it. He couldn't have heard anything from anyone—could he Mariel?"
"I do not know what you mean Alvin," Picard answered. "I was told that it was for crew morale reasons. Not every girl on the ship is lucky enough to be engaged to a handsome naval officer." Mariel chuckled.
"Something tells me that you are lying," Crosby said as he stepped closer to Picard backing her against the console. "You know how much I appreciate honesty—and have no tolerance for lying."
The woman was visibly quaking. Good, Crosby thought. He loved the girl but knew that without proper guidance how fragile a relationship could be. Crosby stepped closer as he was about to seize Mariel's wrists when he heard the rush of the powered door open. Crosby stepped away quickly. The short cigar smoking doctor stood in the doorway.
"I'm sorry if I am interrupting something," Bashir said with an embarrassed smile.
"Not at all doctor," Picard exclaimed. The couple hastily separated. "I was hoping to see you sometime. I wanted to discuss your paper on psychological symbolism and mathematical applications." This last Crosby could tell had been hastily thrown in. The lieutenant cast a look of warning at Mariel.
"I suppose I need to be looking through letters to home," Crosby said after taking a breath. He looked at Mariel. "I'll see you again Mariel--soon, of that you can be sure. It is a small ship." Turning to the older man Crosby wished him a good day and left.
Crosby was seething inside. Somehow he knew that Mariel had convinced the captain not to allow the couple to cohabitate. Crosby glanced up the empty narrow passageway and then behind him. He slammed his fists against the metal wall until the knuckles of his right hand were bleeding. Crosby cursed to himself and headed for the officer he had been assigned to complete his intelligence work.
Taskforce 27, approaching the Deneva system, Mar 2157
The Pioneer class vessels Excelsior and Protector were in the company of the Amarillo class ships Wolverton, Celebes and Melbourne. The Mons Olympus tankers Thera Macula, Mount Cuba, Mont Blanc, Cho Oyu and Ceres trailed their more heavily armed charges. Three Andorian battleships and four of their light cruisers flew alongside the formation of earth ships. Two Tellarite destroyers completed the mixed fleet. The ships passed the stars in subspace creating the characteristic rainbow colored streaks of light as they did so. The seventeen ships of the newly created Star Fleet task force had a single goal.
Admiral Maxwell Forrest sat back in his well used command chair. He reviewed the figures with a mix of elation and trepidation. This was one of the largest forces ever assembled with the exception of the fleets that had conducted the defense of earth in January. Forrest read with satisfaction the reports of battle readiness. The ships of the fleet were fully fueled with deuterium. They were as ready as they could be.
And that is where the fear arose. Would their forces be enough? Forrest knew that the Yorktown and Gorbachev had sent a brief coded subspace ping each. That was the indicator that they were in place. Would this assault be enough? Or would they discover that the attack on earth had been conducted by a small Romulan force and that a much larger one existed; a force that could mop the floor with Forrest's ships? He would have his answer soon enough Forrest thought. Thorpe had been reluctant to allow Forrest to leave.
But Forrest knew that he could not conduct battles when the results might not be known for weeks. For better or worse Admiral Forrest knew that he was a combat officer and not a deskbound commander. And Forrest believed that this war would be won by combat officers; not planners. After a heated argument with Thorpe, Forrest had got what he had wanted: Command in the field.
"Sensors show subspace radar pickets," The sensor operator Chief Kelvin Harris said. "It also looks like they are trying to mask things with neutron particles again. The new fix can see through that."
"Show me," Forrest said.
The viewscreen changed from one of the stars going by to a fuzzy, unfocused image. Several brightly glowing blips were illuminated. The blips were projecting blurry wave like images illustrating their radar signatures. Large solid grayish black areas represented the planets of Deneva's system. Several blips not as brightly lit were throughout the system. Many more bright blips circled the world of Deneva.
"Could those sporadic readings be dispersed ships?" Forrest asked the chief. The admiral meant the many duller dots of light that were present on the screen.
"They could be sir," Harris answered. "They could also be missile platforms. Or they could be decoys. I'm sorry sir I don't have a definite answer."
"That is okay chief," Forrest replied with a chuckle. "If you did have all the answers I'd sit you down in this chair so we could end this war." Forrest turned serious again. "Work with the helm chief and work up a course that we might take if we were to assume that we could not penetrate their sensor jamming."
"What are you thinking sir?" Captain Yoshi Nakamura asked his commanding officer. At one-hundred and sixty-five centimeters the forty year old Tokyo native still presented an imposing figure as he was very broad.
"I think you know Yoshi," Forrest replied. "If I was a Birdie I'd set my defenses along the route of likely attack. If we can make an initial foray in that direction then we can draw them out. That way the fighters can wreck the most havoc."
"I have a possible entry vector based on Chief Harris' assessment," Lt. Ma'z piped up from the navigator's station. The Tellarite was one of the new alien reserves helping to augment the painfully stretched Stellar Navy. "Would you like to see it or would you prefer to just sit and talk all day?"
Forrest and Nakamura still cringed at the Tellarite's comments although both men were aware that this was how Tellarites were. The aliens' own military was structured along a very loosely based protocol when it came to communicating with one another. Ma'z's comments were very respectful when viewed through the lens of the Tellarite's culture.
Forrest ordered the navigator to project the hypothetical course onto the viewscreen. Both Forrest and his first officer frowned at what the presentation showed them. No one else on the bridge of the Excelsior was pleased either.
"Their radar is thickest where we would normally make an approach using system's planets as screens," Nakamura said.
"That makes sense," Forrest said. It was plain that the admiral was deep in thought. "Grizzly Oulette used that trick against them once. I would've been surprised if they hadn't built a defense against it." Finally Forrest came to a resolve. "We don't have the advantage of a planetary alignment."
"I want to make a run on Beacon," Forrest began quietly. "The alignment is over and there is enough of a spread in planetary bodies so that if we come in along this course," Forrest caused a line to be projected onto the viewscreen. "We will have some minutes to play with. That coincides with our likely course if we could not read through their jamming. I want to stop here." A single point illuminated on the screen. "The Andorians will launch fighter and lay down a suppression barrage along with the Tellarites." Forrest was relying on the Andorian ships that were heavily armed with their version of rail guns to protect the small task force. "That should draw them out. Once they have engaged us the fighters from the Gorbachev and Yorktown will make z-minus and z-plus approaches to Deneva itself."
"I hope the sensor upgrades work as advertised," Nakamura said in a pessimistic tone. They were betting on being able to nullify to Romulans' plasma beam by knowing when it was ready to be fired and launching missiles at the stream of energetic matter based on its anticipated heading. Forrest nodded.
"Now we come to it," Forrest announced grimly. "After many meetings and planning sessions it is thought that there is no more life—human life left on Deneva itself. Oulette plotted the locations of two Birdie bases down there. At least he recorded the existence of structures. It is the Star Fleet fighter squadron's job to; in addition to destroying as many Jellyfish and Chowders as possible is to nuke the designated locations." Forrest looked around the bridge.
"Gods help you if any of your people are down there," Lt. Ma'z said. "But these animals need to be hurt."
"I've seen the intelligence as well admiral," Nakamura added. "If anyone survived the initial neutron release they could not have lived for long after; even if they were given maximum doses of hyronaline. I wish there was human life down there. But I do not believe that there is anymore."
"Thank you Yoshi," Forrest said. "Now if you please send a message to our allied ships. We will proceed according to plan. Time is t-minus twenty minutes."
The captain notified the Andorian commander General Yial and his Tellarite counterpart. The taskforce dropped out of warp moments later and reformed in preparation for the precision entry that they were planning. The formation of alliance ships stretched forth into subspace.
"Warp 2.3," Nakamura said. "Estimated time of arrival is 2307."
Forrest acknowledged his first officer's report. The admiral wished that they had some of the new mam ships for this mission. The Excelsior was not scheduled for upgrade until late May. Forrest thought with a pang of regret how much he would miss the Excelsior. Strictly speaking it was Nakamura's ship. But it was serving as Forrest's flagship. At least, the admiral thought, Nakamura would get full command of his ship. Forrest would transfer his flag to another vessel while the Excelsior underwent upgrade. Maxwell Forrest watched as the time ticked down.
Star Fleet Fighter Group 12, on approach to Deneva, Mar 2157
"That's it," Ensign Vince Mason announced over Walters' helmet headset. "The main group is engaged. The Andorian battleship Kazara is in trouble; damn looks like they are gonna have to pull out! I thought the new sensors could track those plasma beams!"
"Goddamned Birdies are getting smart," Lt. William Walters replied calmly. "The Andorian and Tellarite rail guns are better than ours. If they knock them out the cruisers are cooked."
"Dropping out of warp," Mason announced. "Group 7 is reporting in on time."
"Maximum impulse," Walters said as he pushed the little Minotaur's speed up. "Think you can score another shot like before Aimless?"
"Line 'em up and I'll knock 'em down boss!" Mason replied.
"They are mucking around in the gravity well," Walters announced gleefully.
The group of Minotuars made their way through the silent depths of space. Romulan Sabinus class cruisers and the newer Veronus class circled the blue world. Missiles belched forth from the Minotaurs at the same time as Romulan missiles rose from the orbiting ships. One Minotaur started to turn away from its approach. The little cigar shaped ship separated into two halves; the victim of a carefully aimed Romulan laser. The half containing the small fusion reactor exploded. A Romulan Cabbage was sent tumbling when a Corsair missile exploded near it. Another Romulan cruiser exploded from a direct hit scored by a Corsair. Romulan fighters emerged from a few of the Sabinus class cruisers. Several more of the enemy craft dubbed Eightball by the Star Fleet pilots were climbing out of the Denevan atmosphere.
"Go between—go between!" Mason exclaimed as the copilot saw a space between two Romulan cruisers. Walters took the small craft through a few stomach churning maneuvers. A Romulan missile that had been tailing Walters' Minotaur flew past the flight path of the wildly evading fighter to impact on a Romulan Chowder. Walters turned the Minotaur on its vertical axis. Mason let loose with a laser shot tearing a neat gash in the Chowder's hull. A Corsair ejected from the Minotaur as Walters turned his craft forward again. The Chowder exploded behind the escaping Minotaur.
Walters and Mason both grunted as they felt the Minotaur kick even through the artificial gravity. Mason checked his readouts and turned around as well as he could. "Looks like a laser hit!" The ensign exclaimed. The Minotaur jerked again as a conventional explosion bloomed no more than fifty meters from the fighter.
"Eightballs on our asses!" Walters yelled. "Drop some mumbo-jumbo with a Corsair in it!"
Mason did as instructed. Invisible lasers lanced out from the spherical Romulan fighter narrowly missing the Minotaur. The enemy craft flew through the small cloud of metallic micro shards of metal. Too late it detected the Corsair missile moving at the relative speed it had been ejected from the Minotaur at. The Eightball was consumed by the explosion of the Corsair. A second Eightball lined up for a shot at Walters' Minotaur; before it could shoot the nimble fighter shredded into pieces. Lt. Sharon Patellis' Minotaur flew past the swirling fragments of the Romulan fighter.
"Guido to Sluggo; get your ass moving marine," Patelli said fiercely.
"Taking her down," Walters announced as the Minotaur's hull bit into Deneva's atmosphere. The blunt nose of the Star Fleet fighter started glowing a mellow cherry red. Another Minotaur followed Walters' ship down. Beneath the fighters and hundreds of kilometers distant the small formerly human settlements lay.
The settlements seemed to be moving towards the fighters as if the ground, flat looking from so high up was part of a high-speed roller. Hot exhaust shot from the belly of each Minotaur as a large missile was ejected from what was obviously a hastily added missile tube. The two blunt nose craft each pulled up sharply. The small marine fighters cleared the atmosphere to rejoin the survivors of their respective groups. The Minotaurs stretched forth into subspace. Below on the surface of Deneva two new suns bloomed briefly on the ground where the human colonists had once established their first small communities.
Taskforce 27, Inside the Deneva system, Mar 2157
"Firing and away!" The gunnery officer announced. Two Narwhal anti-ship missiles were ejected out of the lower section of the Excelsior. The missiles sped away. Second's later one of the twin darts disintegrated to shreds of metal as it encountered a hail of Romulan neutronium pellets. The twin of the destroyed missile streaked on unimpeded until it exploded close to a Romulan Sabinus class cruiser. The wrecked Cabbage ship turned end over end tumbling away; now a mass of twisted glowing metal and plastic debris.
The Protector turned slowly sailing between the two pieces of the Andorian battleship Kazara. Trailing Romulan anti-ship weapons impacted the spinning debris of the wrecked Andorian ship. The whale-like Protector ejected two Narwhals. A Romulan Cabbage getting too close to the Pioneer cruiser received a burning tear in its hull near its plasma beam emitter. The Romulan ship exploded seconds later. Three Amazons lanced out from the Protector to intercept two anti-ship missiles that had been fired by the doomed Romulan before its demise.
"Report!" Forrest exclaimed.
The Celebes ejected two Narwhals and several Spider area defense missiles. The Spiders destroyed two of the spherical Romulan fighters that were inbound toward the Amarillo class destroyer. The Celebes' Nawhals were torn to shreds by enemy neutronium pellets. The destroyer fired two more of the ship busing missiles. The deadly high-speed spears passed three Romulan Eightballs. One of the Romulan Eightballs was cut into sections by invisible lasers from the Celebes. Two Andorian fighters were in pursuit of the Romulan spheroids. The two craft maneuvered wildly in an attempt to avoid the thicket of oncoming Spider defense missiles. One of the Romulan fighters was hit by a Spider and destroyed the other flew on. Burning tears started appearing in the hull of the Celebes spherical command section The Eightball continued on smashing into the engineering hull of the Celebes. One of the wounded destroyer's warp nacelles separated leaving a trail of glowing slag as it was sent reeling through space. Seconds later the one-hundred and twenty-six meter long destroyer exploded.
"The Kazara managed to send shuttles out," Nakamura reported. "The Melbourne and Tansa are recovering survivors." The captain straightened up suddenly. "The Wolverton reports the Celebes was just destroyed!"
"Status on our delivery boys?" Forrest asked. The admiral knew that they had to stay to take the heat off of the marines. But it was apparent that the life expectancy of the allied fleet could be counted now in minutes.
"Missiles away!" Nakamura exclaimed.
"Sensors shows the locations over the settlements have both been hit by airbursts," Chief Harris announced.
"The marines report going to warp," Captain Nakamura announced triumphantly.
"Okay time to try one of the Stiles woman's tricks," Forrest announced. "Yoshi tell the Andies to start fighter recovery. Then open locks and start firing Spiders."
Nakamuar acknowledged the admiral's order. The Andorian fighters laid down a hail of blistering laser and missile fire before turning about and heading back to the embattled taskforce. Three Romulan Cabbages exploded. Two more of the Romulan cruisers along with a Chowder class had pieces of their hulls blasted away by near misses. Several of the spear shaped Andorian craft were caught by faster Romulan area defense missiles. Several more of the Andorians were cut into pieces by deadly invisible laser energy.
The Stellar Navy ships sent wave after wave of Amazon missiles out of their missile tubes. Spider area defense missiles were ejected out of airlocks. The small defense missiles filled space as their little motors propelled them toward incoming Romulan anti-ship missiles.
The space between the two fleets filled with miniature suns. The Tellarite destroyers let loose with a final volley of merculite rockets. Some of the rockets hit incoming anti-ship missiles. A lot of them were destroyed by patterned bursts of Romulan neutronium pellets. A few made it through. A single Chowder cruiser was quickly reduced to hot shreds of semi-molten metal by a flight of the rockets. A Sabinus class cruiser had all of its warp nacelles blasted away by a few of the stray rockets.
The last Andorian fighter landed in the bay of the surviving battleships. The allied fleet; given a brief respite by the massive volley of Spiders and Amazons as well as the rockets of the Tellarites stretched away into infinity.
"Report?" Admiral Forrest asked.
"Several cruisers are turning too," Chief Kelvin Harris replied. "They are pursuing us."
"Damn," Captain Yoshi Nakamura cursed softly. "How many are pursuing chief?" Nakamura exhaled sharply as the chief reported twenty-three vessels in pursuit. "We can't lead them to our tankers and we don't have the range to make Wolf."
"Lt. Ma'z," Forrest said as he turned his attention to the Tellarite navigator. "Work with the gunnery officer. I want you two to work up a firing solution—one that takes into account being in warp. I want to see if we can shake these bastards with a spread of Grand Slams." The big missiles which the marines had dropped on Deneva were orbit-to-ground weapons. Each Grand Slam contained a one-hundred megaton warhead in a hardened case that allowed for it to burrow into the ground if need be.
The Tellarite rather than replying started a lively argument with Lt. Terrel Owen. The gunnery officer; a survivor of the Beagle argued back with the Tellarite. Despite the tone of the heated discussion it became apparent that a plan was being worked out. In the meantime Forrest ordered the fleet to maximum warp. He was dismayed when Nakamura told him that the Romulans were overtaking them by a factor of 0.3 warp.
"Now would be a good time for you gentleman to come up with something," Forrest said tersely to the gunner and navigator. The Tellarite laughed heartily.
"Solution plotted admiral," Owen responded crisply. "We need to fire the first Grand Slam and fuse it for eight seconds. The next missile needs to go out three seconds later fused for twelve--,"
"Okay lieutenant," Forrest said sharply. "I get it." Turning to Nakamura Forrest told the captain to transmit the plan to the other ships of Taskforce 27. The oriental captain cocked his head as the reports came in over his earpiece.
"Ready sir," Nakamura reported.
"You may fire when ready." Forrest ordered in a soft voice.
"Running the programmed solution," Owen paused for a few seconds then added firmly: "Now!"
Behind the fleet of whale like Stellar Navy ships, spear shaped Andorian ships and boxy Tellarite vessels deadly missiles flew briefly in the distorted realm of subspace. The large missiles without the benefit of a warp field, dropped into normal space--then exploded. Although at seemingly irregular intervals the explosions had a devastating effect on the pursuing Romulan ships.
Six of the Romulan pursuers were destroyed before they could even bring countermeasures to bear. Five more Romulan cruisers took residual damage that rendered them useless. Two of those flew apart into micro-fragments as the damage they sustained caused irregularities in their warp fields. The rest of the hostile pursuers dropped back to normal space. The allied fleet quickly outdistanced the Romulans' subspace radar.
Utopia Planitia shipyards, Mars, Mar 2157
The Bison class refitted Beagle hung suspended over the ruddy surface of Mars. The ship was complete with upgrades and trials. This was the second refitting for the two-hundred and fifty meter long ship that had started its service life as a stretched Bison class vessel. Most of the Beagle's sister ships were one-hundred meters shorter than the destroyer escort. The Beagle awaited the final operational tests of the ships that would comprise her taskforce. Activity around the Beagle was negligible as work on it was complete. A single shuttle picked its way through the network of docks making its way to the destroyer escort.
"What is the word Anjin?" Commodore Jocelyn Stiles asked her Andorian operations officer. The one-hundred and eighty-three centimeter tall Andorian was characteristically thin as was most of his race. Anjin was also quite bald which was not characteristic for an Andorian.
"The Panther and Blazer are operational and have taken up positions on the ready line," The Andorian lieutenant answered meaning a position on the outer edges of the yard usually reserved for ships that were complete. Anjin ran down a list of ships that were to be assigned to Stiles' Taskforce 18.
The Panther and Blazer were two of the new Kretchet class destroyers. The Torsk class light cruiser Seawolf, Powhaton class vessels Cyane and Choctaw and the heavy cruiser Marathon rounded out the human contribution to the force. Work had been completed on the Marathon far earlier than anticipated. The heavy cruiser was almost ready for launch. That was the vessel that was holding up the departure of Stiles' force. The Andorian heavy cruiser Ventizen and destroyer Aktaba comprised the Andorian part of the force. The Tellarite light cruiser Hazmq rounded out the force. A distinguishing feature of the new taskforce was the lack of escort tankers.
Star Fleet Command had worked out a series of assigned secure routes for the tankers when need for those arose. Fewer of the armed deuterium carrying ships were needed for the new taskforces as all of the ships were using matter/anti-matter reactors for propulsion. The Andorians and Tellarites had been aggressively pursuing matter/anti-matter upgrades far earlier than had the Stellar Navy.
"So the Marathon will be complete in two days?" Stiles asked the Andorian. The new commodore was seated comfortably behind the small desk of her quarters that doubled as the captain's office.
"Yes commodore," Anjin replied. "That will also allow for some extra repair work to be done upon the Aktaba."
"Good," Stiles said. "We need to be on station at Wolf by the middle of April. The Archers have been taking a beating out there." Jocelyn sighed angrily so that the sound came out more as a low growl. "I wanted to get out and take the fight to the Birdies. But Admiral Forrest set up this force disposition before he left."
"I too would rather have engaged the Romulans in an offensive fight as well," Anjin replied. Jocelyn had discovered that the commander's mate had served aboard one of the Andorian light cruisers that had come to the defense of Sol. That cruiser had fallen prey to a Romulan plasma cannon with a loss of all hands. "But once we have built up our forces we can start the push to Romulus."
"Yes," Jocelyn replied quietly. She wanted that day to come; very soon. The two officers discussed routine matters when the chime to Stiles' quarters sounded. The commodore acknowledged the chime and the door slid open to admit Chief Mary Vong. The woman took a seat opposite the Beagle's first officer and across from Stiles.
"Here is the final crew roster," Vong said passing a folder to her commanding officer. Stiles had discovered that the chief had been offered a commission like so many other navy enlisted people these days. Vong had refused vehemently. The chief was now the senior petty officer aboard the Beagle. "We lost one of the engineers." Mary said continuing her report. "Her mother passed away—natural causes. So I signed her leave request myself." Stiles nodded her approval. Jocelyn was glad that the woman had stayed aboard the Beagle. Stiles had come to rely on her for expertise with people; that and the fact that Vong knew of Stiles past.
"Commander Anjin says we can get underway in two days," Chief Vong said nodding to the Andorian. "I was hoping that you would cut a few passes to Mars. I know there isn't much there in the way of recreation but we can use the time to let the crews blow off some steam."
Stiles sat back in her seat. "I'd rather use the time on drills," The commodore said flatly. "We'll be back in six months and in all likelihood may get some chances for time off at Wolf."
"Sir we have been drilling," Vong replied tersely. She added: "Constantly. The crew will be beat before we even get out of the gate."
"I want this taskforce to be at its sharpest," Stiles replied forcefully. "Our job is to kill Birdies. They attacked our colonies and our home. We aren't going to get that done by getting drunk in some frontier bar!"
Vong was about to argue the point further when she saw the resolve in Stiles' eyes. Instead the chief asked if the briefing was over. When Stiles said that she was satisfied the first officer and chief rose and proceeded out of the hatch. Vong hung back allowing the hatch to seal as Anjin stepped out.
"Just a piece of advice Jo-jo," Vong said. Stiles had told the enlisted woman to use her first name in private conversations.
"I think I know what you are going to say--," Stiles started.
"I've been on these ships a lot longer than you Jo-jo," Chief Vong said. "You keep winding the crew up like an ancient watch and at some point they are going to break. They are at that point now. The doc has reported a few minor injuries and some of the performance ratings are actually dropping off. Let them have a little time Jo-jo; please." Vong paused for a moment then added: "There will be Birdies left to kill Jo-jo."
Stiles got out of her seat quickly. Her face was a mask of anger for several seconds. Then she took a breath and spoke quietly. "Okay, okay Mary you say they are slipping up. Okay cut them a few passes. But this isn't about what I want. I'd be a fool to lie to you and tell you I don't want to kill every Birdie I can. But it isn't only that." Stiles looked down at her desktop and then continued in a grimmer tone: "We don't need anymore of us to die. I want our people at their best so that we all come back in six months Mary."
"Thanks sir," Vong replied gratefully. "I know how you feel. I'm not asking this just to be popular with the crew. They need a little break before we go out; you'll see." The chief got a mischievous look on her face. "I'll bet you that the performance ratings go up on the next drill."
"Okay," Stiles replied with a grin. "I'm game; what is the wager?"
"If I win," Vong said with a smile: "Then you pay for the Champaign for my next wedding. I have a big family too."
"You're getting married again?" Stiles said rolling her eyes.
"I figured I'd give Smitty a chance," Vong replied meaning Gunnery Sergeant Ryan Smith formerly of the Beagle. "He is a drill instructor at Star Fleet OCS now. We set the date for when I get back from this cruise."
"Okay I won't inquire about your last marriage Mary," Stiles said. "Okay I'll do that if you win. You didn't say what you will do if the crew is not up to par." Stiles was silent for a few moments before she continued. "Tell you what; I'm not going to go easy on you. You and Smitty have to spend part of your honeymoon helping my mom in Georgia!"
"Damn!" Vong exclaimed with a chuckle. "Okay commodore you have a bet." The two women made small talk for a few more minutes; before turning to leave Vong added: "There is a lieutenant commander from the yard who wants to see you."
"I wonder what it is now?" Stiles asked in an exasperated voice. "Okay Mary thanks. Send him in I might as well get this out of the way while I have a little time."
"Oh and commodore," Vong said slyly. "You should take a little time on Mars as well."
"I'll think about it," Jocelyn replied. The truth was that Stiles didn't know anybody on Mars. She thought for a moment after she bade Chief Vong a good day. Stiles supposed she could spend some time in the Beagle's small gym. This desk stuff was getting to her normally thin midsection she thought. She also did not want to spend a lot of time unoccupied. Jocelyn didn't like the thoughts that filled her head when she wasn't busy. The grief over her fiancée and now her father weighed heavily on her. Stiles was pushing she knew, but she had too.
The chime sounded again breaking Jocelyn out of her unpleasant thoughts. The commodore reached down and pushed the stud opening the hatch to her office. Stiles was surprised to see Lt. Cmdr. Charles Tucker walk in. She stepped out from behind her desk. It was plain that neither knew how to greet one another.
"I'm sorry Jo-sir," Trip began.
"Let's go with Jo-jo, Trip," Stiles answered. "It is good to see you again." The two of them were face to face.
"Look," Tucker began haltingly. "You mother wanted me to come here." Then he added hastily: "And I wanted to see you too before you left." The engineer was starting to get red-faced.
"I'm glad that you are here Trip," Stiles said. The two were very close when Stiles suddenly turned away. Tucker walked up behind her.
"I know things have been crazy ever since Florida," Tucker started. "But I got a feeling that you and me," Trip fell silent for a few seconds before continuing. "I mean—okay I think I'm interested in you! And I was wondering--,"
Stiles turned sharply. Her eyes were large and moist. "I don't know Trip. I know what you mean. I think—I think maybe the same about you." Tucker looked startled then started to smile until Stiles continued: "But I don't want to feel that way again. Not for awhile. I don't know; maybe after all of this is over. I've lost two men that I loved. The Birdies seen too that. I'm going to see too them now."
"Look Jo-jo," Tucker said. "I lost someone too. Okay maybe we should wait to see where all of this goes. But I've been doing a lot of thinking: What happens when all of this is over?" Stiles looked at Tucker curiously. "I mean what if we kill every damn Romulan there is; what next?"
"I know what you mean--," Stiles began.
"No," Trip interrupted. "I don't think that you do. I miss Elizabeth. But there ain't a damned thing I do in this war that is going to bring her back. We need to get some payback against these bastards—I agree there. But sooner or later we are going to have to start living again."
Stiles turned from Tucker again and crossed her arms over her chest. Finally after a deep breath she said: "I know. I only hope that I can do that again. Right now I think if the hate would go away then there wouldn't be anything else left inside of me."
Tucker took a step toward her hesitantly. Finally he hugged her to him. Stiles did not return the embrace for a long time and when she did it was only after the greatest hesitation.
"Okay now what?" Stiles asked after awhile.
"Your chief says that you have two days before you ship out," Tucker said conspiratorially. "I got to know Mars pretty good. Maybe I could show you some of it before you leave? Unless you don't want to be seen with a low ranking engineer?"
"My chief huh?" Stiles asked. She would have a discussion with Mary Vong when they got under way. Jocelyn thought for a few seconds. It wouldn't hurt to spend time with Trip she thought. He had a way of taking her mind off of other things if only temporarily. And knowing her mother the woman had probably enlisted Trip in some sort of a binding promise. So that would let the man off of the hook with her mother. "Okay I need to pack a few things."
Hangar 51, Ganymede, Jupiter orbit, Mar 2157
"This is something to see," Christophur Thorpe said excitedly as he toured the cramped spaces of Daedelus. "Just look at what our races can accomplish together."
"We never would've gotten this far this fast without the Andorians and Tellarites sir," Commander Jonathan Archer said wistfully. "I was opposed to what I saw as alien intervention at first. But without their help we would still be putting the superstructure together."
Thorpe turned to the commander. "I suspect that you have had this discussion with the captain here," Thorpe said indicating Captain Cromwell. Thorpe looked pained then continued. "I know of your dedication to the project—and of your father's efforts. Nothing more would please me than to hand you command of one of these fine vessels. But for now, just for now we need your expertise in designing ships."
"I know it sir," Archer said with a slightly bitter laugh. "At least I can lay the groundwork for this ship; and the next generation of starship. No reason why we shouldn't be thinking ahead to a warp five, maybe even warp six capable ship."
"You keep thinking ahead commander," Thorpe said in earnest. "One day this war is going to be over. Then we can get down to the real adventure of exploring. I believe that is what man was meant to do." The United Earth President turned to Captain Michael Cromwell. "You'll see new things along the way captain. I know that is not the purpose of your mission but don't let the wonder of undiscovered worlds pass you by. I don't know what to make of these Romulans but I think they are a people who never wanted to look around the next corner; just to see what is there or stopped to wonder why a thing is--unless it was to make a weapon."
"I guess we will find out the answer to that," Cromwell said in reply. Then he added cautiously: "At least I hope that we do."
"Yours may be the most important mission of this war captain," Thorpe declared. "We just don't know our enemy. We have to learn about the Romulans so that we may end this thing."
"We are anxious to get underway sir," Cromwell said.
The president stopped at the airlock between the station and the Daedelus. "I'll not hold you up sir," Thorpe said. "I just wish that the public could see this. This is real history in the making. This ship can go great distances unrefueled. It is like being there at Lindbergh's takeoff or Christopher's arrival around Saturn."
"We'll bring you back the information you need sir," Cromwell said solemnly.
Thorpe stuck out his hand to the captain. Cromwell hesitated briefly then took Thorpe's hand. Thorpe turned to leave Cromwell and Archer standing in the lock.
"You bring my ship back!" Archer exclaimed
"Your ship?" Cromwell replied with a grin. Then the captain turned serious. "You'll get your turn one day Jon. Thanks for everything; without you this would all be a dream. As a matter of fact if not for you and Commander Tucker there wouldn't be any mam ships to face the Birdies."
Cromwell looked around dubiously. "You know most submariners know who John Holland is but the probably can't name the skipper of Holland's first submarine. I know this mission is important but I have a feeling when children are scrolling through a history screen this mission—if it is mentioned at all; will only be remembered as a footnote. But I understand you wanting to get out there and explore. Who knows," Cromwell said as he got a faraway look in his eyes. "Maybe the Birdies did us a favor." When the captain saw Archer's incredulous look he continued. "Think about it. The government was all but poised to cut the Navy's and the Space Exploration Agency's budgets to nothing. After this war, if the president gets his alliance to stick; there will be ships galore to explore with and maintain a fighting navy."
"I had thought about that," Archer replied. "Hell of a way for things to happen but you are right." Archer gave a last, longing look beyond the airlock into the interior of Daedelus. Knowing of Cromwell's aversion to anyone touching his prosthetic limb Archer said simply: "Good luck captain." The commander turned and made his way out of the airlock. Cromwell headed to the bridge.
Cromwell stepped onto the bridge of his ship moments later. The bridge would usually be darkened but it was fully illuminated as the president had wanted this occasion recorded. Michael took his seat after Commander Lisa Somers announced his presence on the bridge. Not much different from the bridge of a Pioneer class ship Cromwell thought.
The captain's chair sat in the middle of the circular bridge. The whole control center was not more than eight meters in diameter making it a little larger than the bridge of a Pioneer class cruiser. The operations position had been moved from the captain's right to a position to the left of the navigator's not more than two meters away from Cromwell's chair. The deck was also split-level which was new in naval vessels. A higher level encircled the bridge at almost half a meter. The small elevated portion of the command center of the Daedelus was little more than a meter and a half wide. The engineering station sit on the elevated area the left and a little behind the captain's chair. Opposite the auxiliary engineering station across the bridge sat the communication's operator station. The sensor operator position sat on the raised portion of the bridge to the captain's right and a little forward of his position. Across the bridge from that station sat an observer's position. Cromwell swiveled around. Everything with the exception of navigation and operations was at Cromwell's eye level.
Michael had sat in the chair before; for operational tests. But this was the real thing he thought. Cromwell reflected how hard it was to explain the difference between tests and an actual mission. The captain of the Daedelus surmised that the reason for that lay in the fact that after a test one would come back to safety to discuss the results. Crews did not always come back from operational voyages.
"Yardmaster signals cradle is unlocked for launch," Cmdr. Lisa Somers reported from the sensor operator's position. "All stations reporting in ready. Space doors open."
Cromwell was painfully aware that his words would be recorded; possibly heard publicly when this was all over. The captain began quietly at first. "Almost two-hundred years ago there was an argument over what words to inscribe on the plaque of the first craft to land on the moon. The old United States led that effort. That country successfully put men on the moon. The plaque which a few of you have seen in the lunar museum at Armstrong City reads: 'We Came in Peace for All Mankind'.
This mission was tasked to end a war. Our mission is no longer about mankind. We are not alone. So to all on this crew, my brothers in humanity and our alien brothers and sisters I say: We go forth as explorers for all peaceful freedom loving beings. Cast off!"
Bursts of chemical thrusters lifted the Daedelus off of its cradle. The rounded tips of the warp nacelles glowed red as plasma interacted to create the fields necessary for continuum distortion. The ship moved slowly forward. It was free except for Ganymede's light gravity field. Daedelus passed the massive space doors of Hangar 51 and rose steadily over the rocky barren surface of the moon of Jupiter. The huge, striped gas giant dominated the background. The starship picked up speed until it was a mere speck over the horizon of Ganymede.
"Operations reports that subspace sensors are down along our flight path." Lisa Somers said.
"Just as planned," Cromwell replied. The captain had been briefed by the president that the ship's departure would be masked from prying eyes and prying instruments. "Number one we don't need to tarry here. Warp 3.8 please."
Somers turned to Ensign Sam Ward. The Oklahoma native was manning the helm position. "Helm set course 087 mark 45 and engage at warp 3.8." The officer did as instructed and the Daedelus leapt into the distorted realm of subspace.
Inside the control station there was much hand-shaking, embracing and patting of shoulders. President Thorpe looked at the empty launch cradle. No one saw the look of consternation on the leader's face. Thorpe mouthed a silent prayer for the explorers then turned with a smile to face the raucous crowd. Several loud pops occurred as bottles of Champaign were opened. The crowd looked at a viewscreen showing the departure path of the starship.
"They have just gone to warp!" Vanor the Tellarite engineer exclaimed.
Thorpe could pick out the scientists and engineers among the crowd by the oo's and ah's expressed over the ship's acceleration curve. General Shran joined Thorpe as the president watched the monitor.
"We've done a good thing here Christophur," Shran said. "May this be the start of many more collaborative ventures between our peoples."
"Yes," Thorpe replied. The president hoped that would be so but he wondered. The prediction from the past that earth would become part of a great alliance hadn't come with a time attached to it. Thorpe was painfully aware of the opposition he was facing from the likes of Todd Allen Glenn and the Sons' of Terra. Still, Thorpe thought it was time to think of pleasanter things. The launch was a great success and Thorpe experienced a moment of clarity where he realized that what had taken place here today though it may be overshadowed by future events; it would be one of the beacons in the dark.
Trading Blows
Langley, Virginia, Earth Apr 2157
Erica Soames poured over the analysis of Taskforce 27's battles with the Romulans in the Deneva system. Forrest's group had inflicted a great deal of damage. Soames looked at photographs of the former human settlements. There had been new buildings erected there. There was also some sort of facility that looked like a ship repair facility. Those buildings and that facility were gone now the captain thought. Like many others she had agonized over rather any humans remained alive on the colony. The evidence, albeit circumstantial had pointed to all human life having been extinguished on Deneva.
The Romulan plasma cannon was still a formidable weapon. But the new sensor enhancements and the use of Andorian fighter screens to provide greater distance between opposing capital ships seemed to have worked to neutralize the Romulan weapon. For now Erica thought bitterly. What the Romulans would come up with next was anyone's guess.
Buchanan had proved the use of carriers and fighters to be as effective as he had once predicted. Besides destroying the Romulan occupied areas on Deneva the Minotaurs' had exacted a high toll against Romulan fighters and capital ships. Erica knew that the launch of some of the new carriers would start this month. The new Star Fleet was still woefully understaffed. But with the help of the allies that was slowly changing. The first human enlisted personnel were cleared for space duty. The academies had moved graduations up. Between that and promoting experienced enlisted people into the officer ranks the numbers were slowly coming back up. Soames knew the projections called for a fully manned Star Fleet by this time next year.
Thorpe's Daedelus had launched. Soames expected that mission to bear some fruit; if Cromwell and his crew survived. The intelligence officer still had possessed misgivings about dispatching Lieutenant Crosby for the mission; especially in light of the Picard woman's being there. But the doctors had cleared Crosby. Erica had reluctantly approved Crosby for the mission. The lieutenant had been on top of these Romulans since the data had started to come in. Soames wondered why any woman would allow that sort of thing anyway. By all accounts Erica had read the Picard woman was a genius in her field. The captain guessed that being a genius in mathematics and languages did not make one a genius when it came to men.
Erica thought that at least Crosby being on the Daedelus had cleared the way for her next venture. Soames looked again at the photos of the blinding flashes on the surface of Deneva. Those photos were being sent out over the vidcasters. At first people had cheered the attack on the Romulan occupied Deneva. That was until the Sons' of Terra and Gholamreza Sheibani had gone to work in concert with some of the media outlets. Somehow despite a mountain of evidence to the contrary Sheibani had alleged knowing that there were still humans on Deneva. And Thorpe had killed those humans. Soames knew it was all nonsense but Sheibani had a politician's charisma on his side. The initial cheers were dying away. Thorpe defended his decision. No one knew more than Soames how much Thorpe had suffered in making that dreadful decision.
The captain was no politician but a career in intelligence made one keenly aware of politics and social psychology. In all likelihood Thorpe would be reelected in June. The Pan-Indo Alliance's defection would ensure that. And Bindu Raj Modi was sticking by her endorsement. The Councilwoman had been one of the few to go on record defending Thorpe's bombing of Deneva. But Soames was too much the student of politics to know when a rising tide of stupidity and propaganda could topple a solid base of intelligence and common sense.
Soames knew that whatever the future held it could not belong to the likes of Gholamreza Sheibani and Todd Allen Glenn. The captain was also painfully aware of the separation of powers. She could not be seen as helping a politician; even a visionary like Thorpe, even when that visionary was confronted by monsters. Still she wanted to help Thorpe. Erica opened her top desk drawer and looked at the book there. The battered book had been handed down through her family. Soames' father had told her that an American officer had smuggled it to Britain in the mid twenty-first century. Erica was surprised when her father had presented the book to her after her graduation from the Royal Air Force Academy. The man explained how the American officer, a defector from that country had made a friend of Soames' great-grandfather. Colonel Green's forces were in hiding but they had reared their heads from time to time in senseless acts of violence. The officer felt that the contents of the book had to be protected from such sleeper cells. So she had entrusted it to Erica's ancestor.
Erica closed the drawer with a slam when Chief Frank McCoy entered her office. The meeting was a scheduled one still Soames felt as if she had been caught with her pants down. McCoy saluted his commanding officer. The captain bid the enlisted man to be seated and after exchanging pleasantries Soames came to the point she wanted to make:
"Frank you've always been vocal about a lot of things," When the man nodded she continued. "You seem displeased with these Sons' of Terra."
"All they have done is to criticize the war effort," McCoy answered. "Funny I been in the Army and now I guess this Star Fleet for almost twenty years—I never seen any of those type of guys in a uniform."
"What do you think of the president's alliance?" Erica asked as she got up and adjusted the setting on the simulated projection on her wall office. The image presented a vista of a pleasant Virginia spring day.
"I guess it is the future sir," McCoy answered slowly. "I mean the Andies and Tellars have been friends with us. And who knows what else is out there; could be things worse than Romulans I guess."
"You know people like Todd Glenn and the Sons' of Terra are out to undermine Thorpe's plans?" Erica declared quietly as she sat back down.
"I know it!" McCoy exclaimed in reply. "Almost makes me ashamed to be an American. I wish the president would stand up for himself and tell those bastards where to get off—sorry sir." The chief added hastily.
"It's alright," The captain replied with a chuckle. "I agree with you there." Here it comes Erica thought. "What if you could do something to help the president?"
McCoy looked startled for a few seconds then finally replied: "I guess we are in a way. I mean what else could we do? What could I do?"
"You're a history major aren't you Frank?" Soames asked the enlisted man. When he nodded Soames continued. "Do you believe in the Praetorian Guard?"
McCoy laughed. "That is one of those stories like Hitler living in Mexico or Khan Singh escaping in a space ship!" McCoy continued in a serious tone. "I've read a few accounts but I've never seen any hard evidence. It is hard to believe a group of military people would stick it out that far—I mean even if they were protecting the old American Constitution."
"What if I were to tell you that I know of an account," Erica said pensively. The captain continued: "A journal in fact, telling of how a group of American officers and enlisted people formed a secret cabal in the early twenty-first century. They succeeded in delaying the tragedies that happened in America for almost thirty years."
"Earning them the name the Praetorian Guard," McCoy finished: "Because like the old Romans guarding their emperor those people were guarding the principles embodied by a piece of parchment." McCoy was silent for a moment. "Okay it is an interesting bit of history but--." The enlisted man's mouth dropped open.
"I always knew you were a smart man Frank," Soames said. Then she added with a chuckle. "But you really must close your mouth. Flies may take up residence in there or something!" The captain moved forward in her officer chair and leaned across her desk. Soames' expression turned serious. "You're a married man Frank. You realize the danger here. I think you have an idea of where all of this is leading. I'll stop here if you want and all of this was an interesting discussion and nothing more."
McCoy gulped. "You know military interference in civilian affairs is against the law sir." The man said breathlessly. Then he looked at her expectantly. "What could we do anyway?"
"If someone were to join The Sons' of Terra," Soames said as she stood with her arms crossed over her chest. The captain started pacing her office. "That hypothetical person could perhaps find out things about the organization. Things that when," Erica paused dramatically: "When exposed to the public would discredit that organization."
McCoy sat deep in thought. Soames stopped pacing and looked away from the enlisted man and out of her simulated window. The office was silent for several minutes.
"Does the president know?" McCoy asked quietly.
"No Frank he does not," Soames replied with conviction. "If he did he would throw me in jail and toss the key away. He is a good man. That is why I feel he must be helped against these dirty bastards. They are not good people. People like Glenn and Sheibani belong to a time when humans were willing to sacrifice their freedoms for a sense of security. They seemed unaware that they would have no security from the state they sat up to do that."
The room grew silent again. Soames returned to her window projection. A simulated robin picked at a piece of twig clumsily. Erica noted the beginnings of a nest in the large simulated maple tree. The scene was completely quiet. The captain could imagine the sounds that would exist outside were it an actual window and not a simulated picture.
"Wouldn't we doing a variety of the same thing?" McCoy asked at last.
"It could be looked at that way," Soames said as she turned back to face the enlisted man. "But sometimes people of good conscience have to act for the greater good. I'm not suggesting anything long term. We do this thing; help the president and move into the next era. Then it is over. You and I will know—but no one else. This is not going to be some secret agency like the Guard was; rather just two people engaging in," The intelligence captain paused.
"Engaging in a conspiracy," McCoy interjected. The enlisted man rose. "Okay sir," McCoy said as he stuck out his hand. "I'm in—for better or worse," McCoy looked pained briefly. "Christ that is what I said to Helen eighteen years ago! Just look at where that ended up." The man exclaimed with a smile. He was referring to his marriage and later divorce.
"Well don't worry you won't have to sleep with me," The captain said with a relieved smile. For a few seconds Erica had thought that things were going to go bad. "But along with that even your closest friends and lovers must never know." Soames sat down and bade McCoy to do the same. She opened her desk drawer and got the battered ancient journal out. "Be gentle with it. You might want to read it. But that along with what we are doing here today should be kept secret."
McCoy accepted the book. The two navy intelligence operatives spent the next half an hour discussing rerouting of money for expenses and contact methods. Erica reflected that now that it had come to it she was not up on the spy game. Naval intelligence had prepared the captain for analyzing data and making tactical and strategic predictions based on that data. Soames was an expert at sifting through information and getting that which would help the fleet personnel out to them as soon as possible. As Tarang Gupta had exclaimed in her office several weeks ago now; he was not a secret agent. Erica was not a secret agent either.
Soames wondered how Gupta was fairing. The young officer seemed to be caught up more in some sort of internal Vulcan intrigue rather than anything to do with the Birdies.
The young man's last communiqué had indicated that the lieutenant had employed some sort of co-conspirator to work his Pan-Pac company job. The intelligence officer had indicated that he was studying Vulcan texts and was planning on a deep desert trip to the dig. Apparently someone either in or near the High Command, felt that something was at that dig concerning the Romulans. Soames was beginning to doubt the wisdom of sending Gupta to Vulcan at all. What would he discover in an archeological site she wondered; that Romulans had landed on Vulcan a long time ago? None of it made sense to the intelligence officer.
"I guess neither one of us are really up on this spy business?" McCoy said; breaking Erica's revelries.
"You are right there," The captain replied. "There is a chapter of the Sons' of Terra near Williamsburg."
"I suppose it wouldn't do to say that I work in intell," Frank said quietly.
"Oh no Frank," Soames replied quickly. "I think that is just the bait that can be used to get you close to the center of things. Of course you'll have to walk the line between what you can tell them and what we can afford to let them know."
"When is a good time to get started?" McCoy asked.
"There is a meeting at one of the ancient colonial American pubs in Williamsburg this Friday," Soames supplied; "Bloke name of Hawkins is speaking."
"I'll be there," McCoy said.
Ri-Fainu City, Vulcan, Apr 2157
Gupta didn't like the situation at all. He had worked hard to get things this far and now this disaster. He wondered how he could possibly extricate himself from the situation. The Denobulan freighter's vacuum refrigeration unit had failed ruining an entire shipment of Asian Pears. Now the freighter skipper was offering him less than competitive returns for the damaged fruit. Pan-Pac could ill afford a sixty percent loss on this shipment. And besides Tarang thought, he had made a significant mark-up since his arrival here. The intelligence officer was not without a bit of pride in regard to his recently discovered business acumen.
"Captain Molux," Gupta said formerly from behind his desk. The intelligence officer let his glasses slip down his nose while he rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "You are leaving me in dire straits here. The contract clearly called for one-hundred metric tons of Asian pears."
"Ah," Molux said with an exaggerated smile. The Denobulan could speak passable English as Gupta had discovered. "But it doesn't talk about their condition upon arrival." Molux said referring to Pan-Pacific's contract with the Denobulan freighter firm.
That much was true Gupta thought bitterly. Pan-Pac had been glad to find a third party firm that would accept their goods in light of the Vulcan embargo against earth and her allies. The company had agreed to terms that their legal department probably would not have agreed to if circumstances were better. But the company had to take what they could get in the way of freighter space. But Gupta on the other hand did not.
The naval intelligence officer had sat down with Sremen and the two had reviewed several Vulcan legal documents and port entry procedures. The young Vulcan, Gupta thought of Sremen as such despite the Vulcan man being sixteen years Gupta's senior had been translating several passages for Gupta when the Indian had asked the Vulcan to stop and go back over a particular regulation. Gupta's Vulcan was coming along fine but the officer was glad that he had gotten Sremen to translate the Vulcan legalese for him. Now it was time for the hole card Gupta thought. The Indian liked Captain Molux so what he said next did not come without some recriminations for the young naval officer.
"The fruit is spoiled," Gupta said. "You could at least pay me sixty-percent recompense for the damaged goods."
"I am afraid that I cannot do that Tarang," Molux replied. "You must take the goods as is. Not all of the fruit is damaged. You can make some profit off of the remainder."
"Our contract does not specify acceptance," Gupta said slyly. "In fact I see nothing in it that compels me to accept the shipment as is."
"I'm sorry Tarang," Molux said shrugging his shoulders in a very human-like gesture. "I'll just have to leave it at the port then."
"If I may sir," Sremen interjected speaking to Gupta, Tarang nodded. The Vulcan then turned to the freighter captain. "Captain, Vulcan custom procedures clearly dictate that for a cargo to be left the consignee must accept it." Molux's grin started deteriorating. "Furthermore leaving a shipment of damaged goods can result in a fine of--,"
"Sixty it is," Molux said. The Denobulan's smile was gone completely. Then after a few seconds he smiled again. "You drive a hard bargain Tarang. I have to act in my firm's best interest as do you. Very well," The Denobulan said taking out a small electronic credit voucher. The freighter captain inputted some data and handed the device to Gupta. Gupta accepted it and after a brief perusal plugged the device into a receptor on his desk top. Molux laughed. "Somehow I feel with that payment for spoilage and what you sell you'll actually do better than you would have off of the profit of an undamaged shipment."
"That may well be," Gupta replied with a smile. Actually the Denobulan had hit on the truth. This had just turned from a substantial loss for Pan-Pac into a lucrative deal. Gupta held up a curved decanter. "More Vulcan brandy captain?"
"No," Molux replied with a slightly intoxicated smile. "Thanks anyway, I'll have enough difficulty finding my way back to my ship as is!" The freighter captain rose as did Gupta and Sremen. The two escorted the Denobulan out of the offices of Pan-Pacific.
"Thanks!" Gupta exclaimed after the Denobulan had departed. "That bit of Vulcan law helped me turn that around." Gupta headed back to his office with the Vulcan in tow.
"It was interesting watching you conduct these affairs," Sremen replied as he seated himself opposite Gupta. "The outcome is not always predictable." The Vulcan fell silent. After a few seconds Gupta asked him what was on his mind.
"Have you given anymore thought to T'Pol's request?" Sremen asked at last.
"I have been studying what was dispensed to the public on the dig site," Gupta said. "I told T'Pol I am no archeologist. But," Gupta paused several seconds before continuing. "The team was looking in what they call a meditation chamber?"
"Yes Vulcans used such places in the beginning of logic," Sremen replied. "For that and it was a safe area from fallout."
"But Vulcans were not always logical?" Gupta asked. When Sremen agreed with the human's assertion Gupta continued. "I was reading that early Vulcans went to meeting houses—I mean emotional Vulcans. The houses were a place to meet others, speak of things, and to just get away and think. Is that not so?"
"Yes," Sremen replied. "A simplistic analogy would be to an earth tavern. But those places were much more; perhaps meeting hall would be closer analogy."
"The team was searching through the meditation chambers of the ancient monastery there." Gupta explained. The officer rolled out a graphic on his desk top that he had made of the dig. Gupta indicated the suspected locations of the ancient chambers. "But K'Henga Valley was so named for a small city that used to be there." When he saw the Vulcan's agreeing nod Gupta continued. "According to old maps the monastery was built upon part of the town; specifically on part that used to hold one of the old meeting houses."
"One would assume that though we are in control of our emotions that would not prevent researchers from discovering the past," Sremen said. "I believe the archeologists would already have considered and then discounted this fact."
Gupta produced a computer enhanced holo-photo. "This is the location of the old meeting house. There are no indications that anyone even looked here." Gupta pointed out calm sands that covered the area next to the extensive dig.
"The only thing in your favor is one of the archeologists," Gupta thumbed through the notes he had made. "Celada, that was her name; she declared that looking in that area was fruitless and that the contemplation comment was made after the establishment of logic as a dominant force on Vulcan."
"Was?" Sremen asked arching his left eyebrow.
"According to a report that I read," Gupta said offhandedly. "Celada died of something called ving'ma poisoning."
Sremen looked away briefly. It was plain that something disturbed the Vulcan. To one such as Tarang who had now spent time among Vulcans it was plain that whatever bothered his co-conspirator and employee bothered him greatly.
"What is it my friend?" Gupta asked gently. Sremen asked for the report Gupta had read. The Indian handed the Vulcan the report which he had printed out onto paper. After several minutes Sremen spoke quietly.
"Ving'ma is equivalent to," The Vulcan stopped while he thought. "It is equivalent to terran cyanide. One does not accidentally become the victim of ving'ma." Even Gupta could hear a slight emotional emphasis on the word accidentally.
"What are you saying?" The lieutenant asked hastily. "Are you saying that she was killed?"
"She was alone," Sremen said quietly. "You are an off-worlder. You would not be expected to glean everything out of this report that is there to see." Sremen fell silent. A minute passed then another. Finally Tarang was about to speak when Sremen motioned for him to be silent. "We do not often speak of it. But a Vulcan can become embarrassed or humiliated over something and rather than deal logically with that thing they use," Again there was a long pause. "They use other methods to solve personal problems."
"Are you speaking of suicide?" Gupta asked pointedly.
"Her body was arrayed in such a manner as to suggest that," Sremen replied.
"Wait a minute," Gupta said while removing his glasses. "You have a logical society. Suicide is not logical." Another long silence ensued. Finally Sremen answered:
"After the wars our technology was at a feeble level," Sremen said solemnly. "Our healers were skilled but many were dying of radiation poisoning. Radiation affects Vulcans in much the same way as it does humans. It is a horrible way to die. Logic dictated as many of the sufferers would never recover that alternative, less painful ways to die could be sought out."
"In other words a form of euthanasia," Gupta said. The Indian shuddered mentally. The lessons of Colonel Green and the old Americans and Europeans had not been forgotten.
"Perhaps this woman was ill?" Gupta asked when a light started flashing on his desktop computer terminal. "We have company." The intelligence officer scooped up the maps, reports and holo-photos. Gupta knew that strictly speaking a real spy would memorize the material and destroy it. But the intelligence officer was not a real spy. If questions ever came up over the material Gupta had thought that he could feign an interest in archeology.
Gupta proceeded to his outer meeting area. Sremen followed his employer and fellow clandestine operator. A Vulcan of short stature no taller than Tarang awaited the duo. The Vulcan had a wide face and a thick pate of brown hair combed in the severe, straight Vulcan manner. He greeted both Gupta and Sremen and started to proceed awkwardly in English when Gupta greeted him in Vulcan and added:
"Speak your native language sir," Gupta said slowly but correctly. "I am becoming versed in Vulcan. I am dawdling in my understanding of your language but I can follow you."
"Very well then," The Vulcan answered. "You must be the one called Tarang Gupta?" When the intelligence officer indicated that the strange Vulcan was correct he turned to Sremen. "I would have words with your associate in private."
Gupta nodded to Sremen. The intelligence officer hoped that his Vulcan employee would listen in discreetly. Gupta had no idea what this was all about but the lieutenant got an uncomfortable feeling. If this stranger wanted to do him harm the Indian knew that he was no match for a Vulcan male.
"Are you in the fruit import business?" Gupta asked. "Mister," The Indian waited briefly.
"I am called Koss," The Vulcan replied. "I am T'Pol's husband."
Despite having not done anything untoward to his Vulcan friend T'Pol Tarang gulped before he continued in English at first then quickly he changed back to Vulcan. "I am a am a pleased to meet you." Gupta said in English then corrected himself and added in Vulcan. "It is good to know of you."
"Let us dispense with the pleasantries as you humans call them," Koss said bluntly and unemotionally. "T'Pol has spoken of you. You have also been a guest of her mother's. I was never a guest of T'Les. It," Koss paused in thought. "It disturbs me greatly; your association with my wife."
First three-cornered business deals now jealous husbands Tarang groused. Mister Bond never had anything to deal with like this Gupta mused. "I understand that you are not joined." T'Pol had remarked when Gupta had asked where her husband was how they had not yet formalized their marriage. "I mean no disrespect to you or T'Pol. I met your wife on earth. She is assisting me in my business in accord with the wishes of the ministry." There, Tarang thought, that was the official story T'Pol had said he should use. That way when they made the trek to the ruins there would be somewhat of an explanation for T'Pol's absence.
"T'Pol seems quite," Koss paused and Tarang could detect the slight emotion he assigned to what he said next. "She seems quite interested in you. It is not proper for the mate of one to be interested in another. It is like that on your world as well."
"That is true," Tarang answered. For the most part the intelligence officer thought. There were all sorts of unique cultures on earth. "I am sure it is just your wife's efficiency in her dealings with others. She has been of great help in Pan-Pacific's dealings. My firm's association with Vulcan has yielded great profit." Gupta waxed on about profits, the export business, and profit margins. It soon became apparent that Koss was getting annoyed.
"I see," Koss said interrupting the human. That was most uncharacteristic for a Vulcan Gupta thought. "Then it seems your association is one of economics only." The Vulcan's disdain though not visible to most was apparent to see for Gupta. "I suppose that is acceptable. But see that it stays that way off-worlder. You could not survive the kalifee."
That said Koss turned about and headed out into the noonday Vulcan heat. A thoroughly amazed Gupta stood rooted until he realized that Sremen was behind him. Tarang was speechless for several seconds.
"Are you interested in T'Pol that way?" Sremen asked as if he were inquiring about the passage of a weather system.
"I a, I'm not, I," Gupta began haltingly in English. The lieutenant took a deep breath then continued calmly in Vulcan. "I was but I have put those feelings aside." There it was out. Gupta had grown to have a great deal of respect for Sremen. So it was that he did not want to lie to the Vulcan.
"Thank you for your candor," Sremen replied. "You have not asked but I will tell you that many of us reason that your people are duplicitous. I have discovered that it is not so with you Tarang."
"Thank you for the vote of confidence!" Gupta said grinning. Sremen's expression remained unchanged of course. Koss' words about T'Pol's interest in the intelligence officer were sinking in. But no Gupta had to put those thoughts out of his head. It was probably, Tarang could think of it as nothing else; T'Pol's passion to complete a task. Gupta had discovered that much about the Vulcan woman during their association.
"One thing Sremen," Gupta said quietly. "I am unfamiliar with the term 'kalifee'."
"May it remain so," Sremen replied. The Vulcan seemed to Gupta, for lack of a better word to be embarrassed. When the Vulcan spoke at last it was with a reluctance Gupta perceived. "The Vulcan marriage ceremony like much of our customs is handed down to us through the ages. In the ancient days the kunat kalifee referred to marriage or challenge. If another suitor challenged the marriage then the ceremony would progress to the kalifee."
"You mean a disagreement," Gupta replied. "Sort of like the westerners 'speak now or forever hold your peace'."
"No more than that," Sremen answered. Gupta swore the Vulcan almost looked pained. The naval officer was about to tell Sremen to let the matter drop when the Vulcan said at last: "The challenge would lead to combat between the intended and the challenger. The combat concludes when one of the potential mates is dead."
Gupta was silent for several seconds. Then he said in English: "But that was a long time ago—you don't have these things anymore?"
"It is rare," Sremen replied in that unemotional Vulcan way.
Rare, Tarang thought but that implied that it still existed. The intelligence officer gulped. Vulcans had three times the physical strength of humans. Tarang could not see himself caught up in some sort of marriage ceremony challenge but what if this Koss lost his restraint? T'Pol had said that crime still existed on Vulcan. Did those crimes include crimes of passion Gupta wondered? The human noticed the Vulcan was staring at him.
"But that should not present a problem as you have indicated that your association with T'Pol is purely professional," Sremen said. Then the Vulcan added as a seeming afterthought; "Unless of course she is interested in consummating a relationship with you in which case she can call for the kalifee."
Great, Tarang thought. "Then it is not an issue as our association is as you have said, professional."
Maxim PC-112, Wolf 359, Apr 2157
The small group of freshly painted Curran and Archer class patrol craft cruised in an empty region of space between the planets of the Wolf system; like a group of sharks swimming through the ocean of space in search of prey. The eighteen patrol craft were backed up by the Amarillo class destroyer London and the Pioneer class Majestic. The earth ships had allied support in the form of the Andorian carrier Exdem'Ac and the Tellarite heavy cruiser Kav.
Lt. Patch Edgerton was tired. The commander of the Archer class Maxim knew that he was not the only one who was fatigued. Chief Ellen Potter had logged as many star hours as Edgerton had; so had his new ops officer the Tellarite Lt. Slas. Lately their roving patrol had been deployed more than they were on station. Edgerton had managed two days of free time during the last month. The new Star Fleet had started a meager offensive. Word off of the subspace radio of a minor victory over Deneva by Admiral Forrest had buoyed all their spirits.
But Star Fleet was worried: They were worried that the Romulans still had a great deal of ships in the Deneva and Topaz system. Command was worried about where those ships could go. Wolf was as likely a target as any. No sooner had the battle of earth concluded than Edgerton and his Archer class ship had received orders sending them to Wolf 359. It was Edgerton's job to augment the force of Archers already in place there.
"Anything El?" Edgerton asked the chief. The enlisted woman was occupying the pilot position directly in front of Edgerton's seat. The lieutenant watched as Potter looked into the hooded readout of her subspace sensor display.
"No one here but us Star Fleet guys!" Potter said. Edgerton appreciated the older woman's humor in spite of her obvious fatigue. Potter yawned and looked again. "It almost makes me wish some Birdies would show up."
"We'll complete this tour then get a break," Edgerton said reassuringly. "Taskforce 18 is supposed to take up station in a few days."
"I will look forward to that," Slas said. The Tellarite was occupying the copilot position. "I barely had time to smell the mud of Terra Nova. But I would like to jump in it when we go there again."
"If you don't mind I'll join you," Potter said playfully. "Right now a warm mud bath sounds pretty soothing."
The Tellarite was about to reply when a light near the hood of Potter's sensor scope illuminated. The woman looked into the hooded scope again.
"Uh-oh," Was all that Potter said at first. "I'm showing multiple unknown contacts coming in along a z-plus approach."
"Destination?" Edgerton asked as the lieutenant heard multiple calls in his earpiece confirming his pilot's assessment.
"Lupine," Potter answered meaning the fourth planet of the system.
"Damn," Edgerton said softly to himself. Lupine was a world much like Mars. Dry and airless it was rich in mineral deposits but had so far been untouched except for a small way station on the surface. That had been evacuated at the outset of the war. Edgerton wondered what the Birdies were doing. From the comm traffic coming over the Maxim's commander's earpiece so were the other commanders in the defense force.
They could land on Lupine Edgerton thought blandly. The planet had not yet received the new Hercules missiles. No one had thought that the Romulans would concern themselves with a dead uninhabited world. If the Birdies did land there or set up in orbit it would be a melee for the Star Fleet defenders. The Romulans would have a base from which to fight. On the other hand the Birdies would have to defend their holding Edgerton thought. This was obviously meant to draw the defenders out to Lupine. Edgerton saw no other recourse. Neither apparently did General Talh of the Andorian Imperial Guard. The general ordered the patrol craft to warp out near Lupine. Edgerton acknowledged the message. Here they go again he thought, into the grinder.
"Course laid in sir," Potter said. The chief looked into the hooded sensor. "I'm showing forty-five ships altogether. Wolf reports Minotaurs are on alert."
"Engage El," Edgerton said simply. The commander of the Maxim turned to his Tellarite copilot. "Same drill as before Slas. El will do the driving you do the shooting." Edgerton had discovered that the Tellarite was an excellent marksman with extraordinary hand-eye coordination. Potter had proven to be an excellent pilot. Edgerton still had nightmares from Potter's threading the needle between the warp nacelles of a Romulan Cabbage. The enlisted woman had not only succeeded in doing that but her flying resulted in the destruction of that Cabbage.
The Maxim jumped to warp 2.5 as Potter followed the course directed by General Talh and sent over the secure battle frequency. The big Andorian carrier jumped in behind the group of patrol craft. The tough little ships would spearhead the defense as always. They were ten minutes out from their respective deployment points when Edgerton's earpiece starting emitting a number a distressing calls. Potter bent over the hood of her sensors briefly.
"Another group coming in along a z-minus axis of approach!" Potter exclaimed. "I'm showing thirty-six unknowns." The NCO looked into her hooded readout again: "Anticipated entry into normal space around Terra Nova!"
"Damn!" Edgerton cursed. Slas let fly with a Tellarite curse. Lt. Edgerton did not like this at all. The general was ordering the Minotaurs to hold the skies above Terra Nova. That would cut their firepower in half Edgerton groused. No doubt that had been the Birdies plan all along. Edgerton did the mental math: If they turned about to the defense of Terra Nova they would only arrive just in time to engage the new group. The original group of Romulan attackers would be free to either join their other group in a pincer movement against the Star Fleet ships or proceed to set up camp on Lupine. Neither alternative was a good one. Here was the plan as Talh's orders came over the battlenet.
"We are committing all ships except the Minotuars to the first group," Edgerton informed his crew. "We'll mop these guys up as fast as we can than move to relieve the Minotaurs."
"That doesn't give Nova much of a chance!" Potter exclaimed.
"They have the new defense platforms El," Edgerton replied. "Between those and the fighters they should be able to hold off the Birdies." The minutes ticked away as the group proceeded to Lupine.
"Damn sir!" Potter exclaimed. "They aren't slowing down!"
Near Lupine, Wolf 359, Apr 2157
The fleet transitioned into normal space. Andorian fighters poured out of the out flung wings of the Exdem'Ac. The Curran and Archers separated allowing enough space to concentrate their firepower while at the same time being far enough away from one another to prevent them from being destroyed en masse by a high yield nuclear weapon. The Kav, Majestic and London were the last to elongate into normal space. Those ships stayed back, out of range of the deadly Romulan plasma cannons. The small allied fleet soon had company. Green ships stretched into normal space all around them.
Three of the patrol craft were instantly destroyed when a Romulan Veronus class cruiser warped into them. The green ship was consumed by the collision as well. The London was turning about like a wounded whale when two Sabinus class ships appeared before the destroyer. Space between the Romulan ships and the destroyer was littered with missiles for a few seconds before all three ships were consumed by a massive nuclear fireball. The far more maneuverable Archer and Currans dispersed firing missiles as they went. Two Romulan Cabbages elongated into the path of a flight Amazon missiles and were vaporized instantly. A Curran speeding along a flight path jerked up wildly as a Chowder cruiser warped into normal space no more than five meters from the small craft. One of the new Janus class missiles leapt out of the Curran's belly tube. So close the ships were though; that the missile became embedded in the Romulan's hull as the tiny Curran sped away. The Chowder exploded seconds later.
The space between the remaining allied capital ships and the Romulans became filled with hyper accelerated projectiles and anti-ship missiles. The Archers and Currans evaded in an attempt to get out from between the fire. Romulan plasma beams exploded short as Amazon and Janus missiles intercepted the accelerated mass of plasma. The Maxim vectored beneath the hull of a Chowder. The small Archer class ship fired its pulse lasers cutting a glowing red gash in the side of the Chowder. A small expulsion of gas blew out of a similar gash that appeared in the side of the Maxim. The tiny Archer fired an Amazon at a distant Sabinus class cruiser. Seconds later it fired another. The first exploded short of the Cabbage. The second flew through the dying heat of the nuclear explosion of its mate to explode near the Cabbage. The Sabinus blew apart into two torn, wrecked halves.
Romulan spheroid fighters joined the deadly mix. The Archers were coming out behind the Romulan group when the first flight of Andorian fighters blasted through several Romulan ships. Three Sabinus class and one Veronus class cruiser were completely destroyed. Another Veronus spun helplessly for several seconds; its warp nacelles blown off and spewing energetic plasma, the Chowder exploded seconds later. Romulan plasma beams belched forth again. Most missed owing to the new sensor upgrades that the Star Fleet ships had. One cannon did not miss the Archer class Browning however. Caught squarely in the white bean the craft exploded.
PC-112 Maxim, near Lupine, Wolf 359, Apr 2157
"Andies forming up on us," Slas said. "Engineer reports the hit blew out the starboard deuterium tank."
"Acknowledged," Edgerton answered. Edgerton knew that things were not going good. The Romulans were down to thirty-one ships. But the allies had taken a beating as well. They had lost a third of the Archers and Currans and the loss of the London was disastrous. The orders were coming over Edgerton's earpiece. "Okay let the Currans blast away with their Janus missiles. We'll follow them with the Andies!"
The new Janus missile once fired accelerated far quicker than its slower Amazon cousin. It was also highly maneuverable allowing it fly a twisting course through space making it harder to be intercepted by lasers or neutronium pellets. The Currans let loose with a spate of the new missiles. The Archers followed, firing Amazons as they went.
"S'ith'mz!" Slas exclaimed slamming a furry hand down on his consoled. "Captain Phillips' ship has just been destroyed."
Edgerton ran through the casualty list in his head. Phillips had been the patrol crafts' squadron commander. With the losses inflicted already—
"That leaves you in command of the squadron sir!" Potter exclaimed.
"Patrol squadron 5 this is command; lay down a pattern of missiles and arc around in front of the shield it makes," Edgerton commanded over the battle network.
"El send the course guidance out for that," Edgerton said transitioning from commanding a squadron to commanding the Maxim. Edgerton's plan was to launch a flight of missiles into the Birdies, wreck some havoc then turn into that havoc. Edgerton heard the answering confirmation calls from his squadron mates and their Andorian allies.
Terra Nova, Wolf 359, Apr 2157
The Minotaurs spun along their flight paths laying down blistering invisible laser fire. Exhaust trails of Corsair missiles lanced out from the ships as the fighters spun like the blades of an old fashioned helicopter while flying along a vector. Such was the nature of space warfare that they could do that. Five Romulan cruisers exploded. The Minotaurs did not continue outbound for long rather they turned back in a high speed arc which allowed them to keep their speed while staying close to the Romulan cruisers.
Four Sabinus class cruisers maneuvered into a tight formation. The Romulans' plasma cannons fired in bursts from the four one after the other. Thousands of kilometers from the heated plasma defense platforms littered the space around them with missiles and merculite rockets. Two of Romulan Sabinus class ships were destroyed by the new Hercules missile. The large missile once away from the launch tube of its defense platform accelerated to one-quarter light speed then a small warp nacelle gave the missile a brief micro boost into subspace. But despite the platform's defenses a single plasma beam managed to make it to the defensive satellite. The platform was destroyed instantly.
More clusters of Romulan ships formed. The grouped ships fired away at the defense platforms destroying two more of them even at great loss of their own ships. Between the fierce defense of the Minotaurs and the new Hercules missiles the Romulan assault force was reduced to less than ten ships in a matter of minutes. The Romulan groups separated. A single Romulan Veronus turned on a maneuvering Minotaur cutting the craft in half with its lasers. Another Minotaur avenged its mate with a Corsair that blew off one of the Chowder's warp nacelles. Romulan Eightballs emerged from a Cabbage. A few joined the fight against the Minotaurs most headed towards Terra Nova. Two Minotaurs ripped through the group of spherical Romulan fighters in pursuit of the planet bound Eightballs.
The hulls of the highly nimble Romulan fighters started glowing from the heat of friction as they contacted Terra Nova's atmosphere. Ten of the craft were grouped together. Five of the spheroid fighters suddenly shot out of the atmosphere and made their way under a Star Fleet defense satellite. The defense platforms poured merculite rockets and rail gun fire into the approaching Romulans destroying three of the approaching attackers. The Romulan survivors flew on unmolested for several seconds. High speed Romulan missiles were ejected by the fighters. The platform was hit near the bottom of its cylindrical length. Another of the approaching Eightballs was destroyed. Pieces of the wounded station slowly entered the atmosphere of Terra Nova as the last Romulan fighter collided with the platform lighting up the sky of Wolf's third planet and destroying the automated orbiting defender completely.
The Minotaurs followed their intended Romulan prey into the atmosphere until the agile sphere fighters turned releasing missiles at their pursuers. Bright red laser beams now visible in the atmosphere of Terra Nova spat out toward the Minotaurs. One of the blunt nose Star Fleet fighters was hit causing it to maneuver up and away. The remaining Star Fleet fighter evaded the withering Romulan fire as best as it could. Blue lasers arced out of the Minotaur's nose hitting a Romulan Eightball causing it to shred to molten pieces in its uncontrolled atmospheric descent. A single Corsair blew up another Romulan fighter. But the earth fighter's moves had put it behind the attackers. The Romulans descended further towards Walston City.
Smoking trails rose up from the small city below. Hyper accelerated metal slugs created a metal filled sky. Laser fire lanced out from various points. A single Romulan Eightball was hit. The craft rolled sickly going from controlled flight to the flight of a dropped object. The doomed Romulan fighter blew apart from within. The three survivors flew were now less than five-hundred meters above and four kilometers away from the city. Another of the attackers was cut into two pieces by a ground based laser. Both halves exploded instantly. The two survivors flew over Walston City at well over the speed of sound. Windows shattered from the sonic booms created by the spherical space fighters. Small packets and canisters rained down from the passing craft. One Eightball pulled up sharply only to be destroyed by a slugs from a railgun. The last fighter plowed into the city center sending a nuclear blast wave six kilometers in all directions.
The small packets hit the ground of Terra Nova in a line formed by the path of the ships that had released them. White hot bursts went off as the packets hit. A great burning white hot rent formed in the land along the path of the weapons' release. Buildings were destroyed instantly where the packets white hot explosions occurred. A slow rolling firestorm of intense heat and pressure blew out from the line destroying buildings for kilometers along either side of the line.
PC-112 Maxim, Near Lupine, Wolf 359, Apr 2157
"The survivors are forming a line," Chief Ellen Potter said in a tense voice. "Christ they are going to warp!"
"Okay El," Edgerton said calmly. "What is their course heading?" Patch Edgerton had a sick feeling that he knew the answer to that question. He was not disappointed by the answer but he wished that he would have been.
"Eighteen Birdies inbound for Terra Nova," Potter said quietly.
"Form up our survivors El," Edgerton said. Patch activated his link to the Andorian carrier. The lieutenant got news he expected but didn't want to hear. "Okay guys General Talh is warping with us. That means leaving the Andie fighters out here." That was one bit of good news Patch thought. The carrier would be able to use its suppression fire in an anti-ship role.
The lieutenant suspected this had been the Birdies plan all along: To draw away the carrier while the smaller force opened a gap in the defense network over Terra Nova. When that was complete the larger force would warp in. Without the non-warp capable Andorian fighters the force's ability was severely degraded. The eight remaining Archers and Currans formed up. Edgerton ordered them to go to warp along a course for Terra Nova. The Andorian carrier Exdem'Ac and the Tellarite heavy cruiser Kav followed the spearhead formed by the patrol craft once again. The wounded Majestic rolled through space.
Where once it had been a great cruiser the Majestic now looked like so much space debris. White hot plasma leaked from the torn struts where the ship's warp nacelles had once hung. Shuttles launched from the bays of the ship. The hulk rolled over lazily revealing a port side with no hull plating. The stacked rows of the decks were plainly visible through the wreckage. The last shuttle was away when small explosions started in a chain reaction that worked its way to the Majestic's fusion reactor. The ship along with the last escaping shuttle was consumed by the hellish explosion of the Majestic's power plant.
"Lot's of jamming between us and the Minotaurs," Patch said to his pilot and copilot.
"The Minnies have to know they are coming," Slas said.
"I hope that you are right lieutenant," Edgerton said.
"Of course I'm right!" Slas exclaimed with a laugh. "You terrans still don't recognize our greatness!"
"Three minutes until Terra N," Potter said.
Edgerton acknowledged the chief. The subspace sensor display which Patch had ordered displayed on the viewscreen showed a glowing hotspot where Walston City lay on the surface of Terra Nova. The oncoming Romulan group was now a little more than a minute from the planet.
Walston City, Terra nova, Wolf 359 Apr 2157
Eli Janski pulled his son along by one arm while pushing his wife Rose along with the other. The shelter they were in had literally disintegrated before the eyes of Eli and his family. Rose was justifiably shaken. The family had watched as the Merkelsons, standing near the wall of the shelter had ignited like living torches briefly before mercifully crumpling to the ground. Janski along with a few others had decided to stay. How he regretted that decision now!
Janski and Rose had both reasoned, though now he suspected rationalized was a better word, that Wolf was safe. Unlike Centauri with its arid climate and poor soil and pitiable concentrations of heavy metals and minerals Terra Nova had yielded an abundance of natural resources. So it was that man had gravitated more to the further distant Wolf rather than earth's closest neighbor.
Janski pushed Rose harder. He regretted it as he seen his wife about to fall. Eli grabbed Rose. He didn't need to find Crispin his son. The five year old was sobbing and hugging Eli's leg. The small family paused briefly. Janski knew that another shelter was up the street by the mineral separator. But he was confused as everything was a flattened pile of rubble. It also occurred to the colonist that since their shelter had been destroyed the next one was likely to be too.
But the father took heart. No shelter could survive a direct hit. Janski along with every other human had learned that from the history of the Third World War. That is what must've happened Eli thought; it was a direct hit. Eli pulled Rose close to him. He could see her tears. He wished he could do something to help his wife. Eli pointed away in the direction that he thought they should take. Rose nodded hesitantly and gripped his arm tightly. Eli motioned for her to go and they trudged along. The human family did not see the small canister as they stumbled among the stone and metal debris. But it did not matter.
Eli thought that it was strange. Everything was darkening. It must be smoke he reasoned. He thought too that he would have to start going back to the gym tomorrow. He was having a hard time catching his breath. Eli was embarrassed to find himself drooling as his vision narrowed even further. He started to wipe at his mouth when he vomited on his sleeve. Rose and Crispin were collapsed into shuddering heaps. Eli briefly wondered what was wrong until he too feel to the ground. He vomited one more time and with the last use of his uncontrollable limbs brought his hand up to show that he had expelled blood; a great deal of it.
PC-112 Maxim in orbit of Terra Nova, Apr 2157
The Romulans were reduced to seventeen ships. Edgerton was no longer in command of his patrol as a Romulan missile exploding near the Archer had sent the craft spinning. Potter and Slas working together had regained attitude control. But that was it. The Maxim sat back and watched. At least Edgerton thought, his ship was still good for providing additional sensor coverage. He would've tried to get back into the fight but engineering was silent now. Slas' board showed that area to be decompressed.
Edgeton watched from a distance as the Minotaurs and six surviving Archers and Currans traded shots with the Birdies. The Kav moved into a precarious position exposing itself to Romulan plasma cannons. A hail of merculite rockets left the bay of the Kav. A Romulan Chowder narrowly missed the flight of rockets but a Sabinus class cruiser did not. Myriad tiny explosions ripped the Cabbage to pieces before it exploded. The Kav was going to get away Patch thought! But it was not be. A plasma cannon caught the trailing end of the two-hundred meter long Tellarite ship of war. The great vessel was sent reeling.
"Come on," Edgerton pleaded to the fuzzy video projection. "Come on guys get the hell off of that ship." Illuminated areas appeared over parts of the Kav as shuttle bay doors opened. The Andorian carrier Exdem'Ac pushed ahead steadily. Edgerton switched to subspace sensors to see the graphic of the Andorian's hail of projectiles and lasers. The curve of the graph dipped down. The carrier was running low on ammunition Edgerton thought. The Andorian cover fire lessened. A plasma beam caught the Tellarite a second time. This time it was not a glancing blow. The Tellarite ship was obliterated instantly. "Damnit!" Edgerton cursed.
The Andorian carrier was now the one in a precarious position. But rather than turn away, the lieutenant watched as the Exdem'Ac's thrust output increased. General Talh must've ordered them to move in close Patch thought. Solid blips appeared suddenly as if out of nowhere. Four pulsing numbered blips representing Romulan cruisers suddenly vanished. No doubt the work of Hercules anti-ship missiles Edgerton thought as he smiled.
Patch listened to the battle network as the surviving Star Fleet ships rallied against the Birdies. A flight of Eightballs was followed down to the surface of Terra Nova but not before some damage had been done by the sphere fighters. Edgerton looked at the graphic of the subspace sensors. He switched onto the net:
"They are breaking for subspace! Their ships are forming up."
The Romulan signatures vanished from Edgerton's screen. The Eightballs that had been left behind made final suicidal rushes toward the surviving Star Fleet ships.
The US White House, Washington DC, Earth, Apr 2157
The two Andorians were uncomfortable in the warm, humid room. Their hosts were, however not uncomfortable. President Todd Allen Glenn looked resplendent in black formal wear. Carson Maclaren was wearing a most informal pullover sweater and slacks. Glenn circulated around the room refilling the Andorian's glasses as well as his own. When he was complete the president sat back down at the head of the table. The two Andorians were on one side of the ancient oak table and the journalist took up station on the other side opposite the aliens.
"I'd like to thank you both again for coming here to discuss our mutual problems," President Glenn said as he sat back in his chair. "I trust that your trip went well?" Glenn asked solicitously. At the aliens' agreeing nonverbals the President of the United States continued: "I understand that D'ehsela Lahana does not speak English but you D'ehsela Chrut do?"
The aliens spoke back and forth until finally Chrut turned and answered in heavily accented English, "true Mister President, although Lehana has been studying conversational English. And you need not use our titles—we no longer have those."
"Yes most unfortunate," Glenn replied. "We have all had to make sacrifices based on the unenlightened ideals of others."
"You mentioned in your communiqué to us that we could perhaps help one another?" Chrut asked getting to the point right away.
Glenn glanced at Carson Maclaren. "Mr. Maclaren here is a journalist. His opinion reaches tens of millions of people a week. We need as much help as possible in the upcoming election."
"By you; you mean the Sons' of Terra" Chrut asked after Lehana spoke to him hastily in their common tongue.
"I know you are aware of what that organization stands for," Maclaren interjected. "They have not had good things to say about Andorians. But I believe you yourself in speeches before the Caldonè have referred to us humans as pink skins?" When Chrut seemed about to protest Maclaren continued. "It was rhetoric to garner support for a position. We are not here to argue politics. I believe that both of you are wise enough to see that people can make uninformed decisions when they are not led properly."
"Yes indeed," Glenn interjected. "This needless slaughter of Andorian warriors over this senseless war; we believe your decision not to come to Thorpe's aid was a wise one."
Lehana spoke loudly and stridently in her native language. After several seconds Chrut translated:
"Lehana has said that Rastan's ill-conceived action has put Andoria at risk. This war was between you and the Romulans. Your expansion has not gone unnoticed."
"A lot of people agree with you," the journalist said; "A lot of humans that is. We moved too fast too far. We let people lead us by the ears whose only interest was exploration. We need to settle issues on this planet. Admiral French tells me that there was an opportunity to establish a dialogue with the Romulans but Thorpe prevented him from doing so."
Chrut and Lehana spoke quietly to one another in Andorian. Thorpe spoke up when the aliens' discussion seemed to be complete. "We deeply regret the deaths of the Andorians who died in this last battle of Deneva and lately the slaughter on Terra Nova. I assure you were others in charge here on earth your warriors would not have to fight and die."
"How…can…we…help…you?" Chrut said in stumbling English.
"There is a feeling of," Thorpe paused searching for words. "A feeling of fellowship is forming among our naval personnel and the aliens—excuse me," Glenn added quickly seeing Chrut's reaction. "It is spreading into the general populace. School children are being taught about Andorian traditions since the death of Rastan. We can't abide these things."
"There is much that we can do here but we need help," Maclaren interjected. "We know that you had some support," the journalist indicated the Andorian visitors; "before being turned out in a no confidence vote. Bring home the fact that your Guardsmen are dying needlessly to defend," Maclaren paused and took a deep breath before continuing: "To defend pink skins."
The two Andorians spoke quickly among themselves. A debate seemed to ensue between the two aliens. Several times fingers were pointed at the president of the United States and his human guest. Finally the two former Andorian politicians seemed to have come to a consensus.
"We see," Chrut said at last. "And what does this gain for us?"
"With our people in office we can slow down this war," Glenn answered. "Oh we know that we won't be able to capture a majority in June. But we will have enough seats to stall things with investigations and procedural maneuvering." Glenn motioned at Maclaren. "In the meantime Carson here will ensure that the people forget about the colonies and Panama City. That is the advantage of having a professional journalist on ones side!" This last Glenn added with a chuckle. He continued; "in time people will grow tired of hearing of the casualties. They will demand an end to this war." Glenn saw the almost shark-like look, first on Chrut's face then Lehana's.
"If your people seek an agreement with the Romulans then our traditionalists will be seen as having led our Guardsmen into a needless war." Chrut said. The two spoke stridently in their own tongue before turning back to their human hosts. "Once we regain power we can sever our ties with your people—save for the economic ones."
"We share a common vision my friends," Glenn declared grandly.
The small group made such small talk as was possible between beings with a gulf a space between them. The Andorians finished their beverages and after some ceremony excused themselves. President Glenn signaled for his aides who then escorted the aliens out of the meeting room. When the door closed Glenn turned to the Scots journalist.
"I still can't get over the smell," Glenn said huffily. "But I suppose it is as you say Carson we need all the help that we can get."
"One must sometimes put up with unpleasantries in the pursuit of goals sir," Maclaren replied. "You can always have the conference room sprayed." The journalist said adding an exaggerated wrinkle of his nose. "The important thing is that they go back to Andoria and say what we want them to."
"It is a sure way for them to regain power," Glenn replied. "Once Andorian support waivers Tellarite support will fall right behind it."
"Speaking of support," Glenn said with a grin; "how is our boy from eastern North America doing?"
"Hawkins is holding his own," Maclaren replied. "It is going to be a narrow race." The journalist sighed. "Frankly I'm surprised he has went this far. It is only because of considerable support from the northern half of the US district that I hold out any hope for him at all."
"You must bring your influence to bear Carson," Glenn said simply.
"About that, you doubtless saw the debacle in Paris?" the journalist asked. At Glenn's nod the Scotsman continued. "One of my newscasters was assaulted by a woman whose boy had perished on the London. He was quite frightened by the ordeal but the worst part was the crowd's refusal to help him. I have been in this business long enough Mr. President to know when it is time to back off. We are at that point now."
Todd Allen Glenn sighed. "Thorpe has whipped these people up with a combination of false patriotism and fervor for this alliance." The president of the United States shook his head sadly. "He wants us to give ourselves over to this alien trash. Just like those two who were in this conference room. And the people are too stupid and unenlightened to see the future." Glenn looked thoughtful for several seconds before continuing. "You know you business best Carson."
"Also I don't know what it means yet," the journalist started. "But Mark met a newcomer at one of his rallies. The man turns out to be in intelligence in the Stellar Navy."
"That sounds suspicious," Glenn said quietly.
"We haven't much support from the military," Maclaren said. "No surprise from that bunch. But there is some. This gentleman could be the real deal. And anyway if Thorpe was trying to get someone into the Sons' of Terra to snoop around you would think he would not be so transparent about doing it."
"Is this fellow an officer?" the president of the United Stated asked. When Maclaren shook his head Glenn continued. "Then it is possible he is with us. Enlisted people are always a step below and want to gain whatever little stature they can in their lives." Glenn came to a decision. "Tell Hawkins to feel this individual out. Imagine having someone from naval intelligence in our organization?" The journalist nodded and grinned. The men spoke for several more minutes before getting up to go their separate ways.
UES Fearless, Allied Battle Group 7, in orbit of Terra Nova, Wolf 359, Apr 2157
"When do the first evac freighters arrive?" Commodore Jocelyn Stiles asked.
"Two days," Commodore Pierre Oulette replied.
"Of course," General Shran added. "We should have been expecting something like this."
The three commanders were seated around a conference table in the Fearless' wardroom. The crest of the Pioneer class cruiser adorned the table top. When Stiles asked the Andorian what he meant Shran got up and made his way to the room's holographic viewscreen.
"Your people are rerouting the freighters that were carrying the Hercules missiles to Tellar for the evacuation," the general answered pointing to a line indicating the relief freighters' course. "Not only those weapons but the replenishment parts and ammunition for the outer squadrons—Forrest's people. We have responded in like manner."
The Andorian was referring to the recent evacuation order given to the remaining populace of Terra Nova. Thorpe was aware that many had volunteered to stay but after the combination Romulan ground attack of burning plasma and nerve gas the president did not want to see anymore civilian casualties. The pictures beamed back to earth had horrified many.
"That was it all along!" Stiles exclaimed. "I thought there was more to this than a terror attack."
"The industrial base is gone here as well," Oulette added. "We counted on the Birds to be knocked out after the Battle of Sol and the pasting that Admiral Forrest gave them but it seems that we were premature."
"Sir," Stiles started to say to Oulette when he interrupted her.
"You have as many of these," Oulette said holding up an arm and pointing to the stripes on his sleeve; "as I do. Call me Pierre or even better Grizz."
"Grizz," Shran said in a puzzled voice. "There is an Andorian word that sounds like that. It refers to an unpleasant odor."
The French-Canadian laughed. "I was told that once before General. I like the idea of making a stink; especially with our Birdie friends."
"You know," Stiles looked uncomfortable. "Grizz I could use my emergency war order cargo capacity and deliver some of those missiles to Tellar using Taskforce 18."
"We were ordered to defend Wolf!" Oulette answered emphatically.
"Do either of you seriously believe Wolf is the target again?" General Shran asked the two humans.
"Sounds like they might go for Tellar," Stiles started then said in a hushed voice: "Or Kamaga. One thing about the Birdies is that they are like chess players—move and counter-move."
Oulette cursed in French. "The station has been a thorn in their sides. Forrest could defend the station but if he is engaged in skirmishes he will be badly under-supplied."
"Those are two possibilities," Shran said. "I think one is as likely as the other except that removing the Tellars' station would reduce our eyes in that region and allow the Romulans to operate with freedom out of Deneva once again."
Oulette scratched at his head. The Canadian was the senior terran officer. The combination of Taskforce 18 and Oulette's Taskforce 25 along with carrier and heavy cruiser support of the Andorians and Tellarites had been dispatched to defend Terra Nova after the devastating attack the planet had just been subjected too.
"I agree," Oulette said at last. When Stiles started to speak the French-Canadian bade her be quiet then added: "I will take on as much cargo as I can with Taskforce 25. I am old. If I am court-martialed for disobeying orders it will only result in me being retired. Besides we have yet to run this past Forrest. The subspace delay should give us a little time. Nonetheless I will order the freighters to transfer their cargo to my ships after they arrive."
"I can offer you the space aboard the Hazat'Te," Shran said referring to the Andorian carrier component of Battle Group 7. "We can leave our fighters here. That will provide an edge should the Romulans come back here. I shall go with you as well. I believe that the Romulans have accomplished their objective here at Wolf."
"At least they can defend Terra Nova," Stiles said. "Their Eightballs are no match for either of our fighters." Jocelyn told the alien general.
"It is decided then," Oulette declared. "In the meantime you should suit up as many of your people for disaster relief Commodore Stiles."
"Since I'm calling you Grizz how about Jo-jo instead," Stiles said with a smile. "I've already sent some shuttles down. Bastards have rigged those gas canisters to go off at random times!"
"They wanted to force your government to evacuate the planet," Shran said.
"They were effective," Oulette said bitterly.
"We have to start taking some of our colonies back," Stiles said quietly; "especially Deneva."
"One thing at a time Chocolate," Shran said.
UES Fearless, Apr 2157
"These are the fuel figures ma'am," Lt. Cmdr. Jeff Sutton said handing the clipboard over to the blue-skinned officer.
The Andorian woman looked over the clipboard carefully before signing it and returning it to Sutton. When Talas saw Sutton's stare she spoke up. "Is there something else?"
"I'm getting requests about shore leave ma'am," Sutton answered.
"Did you not read the reports about Terra Nova?" Talas asked in an exasperated tone.
"I did," Sutton answered. "I've been a little reluctant to tell others what happened—I mean the full report. They'll definitely want to blow off steam after they hear what the Birdies did there." Sutton added quickly; "the humans anyway sorry ma'am it means to—,"
"I have served among humans before," Talas said. "I know what 'blowing off steam' means. You pink skins are too soft." The Andorian woman leaned back in the Fearless' captain's chair. "Organize some sort of activities. Your records indicated that you had an additional duty as a recreation NCO several years back." The Fearless' first officer looked pointedly at Sutton; "for instance some physical activities." Talas poked at Sutton's midsection. "You could use some yourself lieutenant commander. You will meet me in the gym at 1800."
Sutton agreed and gathered up his reports for distribution. The lieutenant commander exited the bridge for his next duty call. Jeff knew that he was getting a little thick in the mid section. He had always relied somewhat on his metabolism but Sutton guessed that was slowing down somewhat. The navy officer was not happy to be reminded about his physical shape on the small darkened bridge of the Fearless. Jeff hadn't missed a few snickers from the bridge crew after Talas' comments.
Sutton was still steamed when he arrived in engineering several minutes later. The Fearless' operations officer found Lt. Shato in his small office. The Andorian was looking at circuit schematics on his desktop viewscreen. Shato glanced up then seeing that it was Sutton he shut the display off.
"I haven't been among your people as much as others," the Andorian started. "But you look like you have a problem. By the way our quarters are hot enough to grow plant life in. Could we settle on a pleasant eighteen C?"
Sutton handed the engineer the report that Talas had signed. The operations officer looked around then after Shato motioned for him to be seated in the small office Sutton finally said:
"Talas has been on me ever since that first day! I know I should've reported in to the first officer first thing here but stopping off in another department is no crime!"
The Andorian engineer leaned back in his chair. "Look Jeff," he said to Sutton. "We have a very strict code of duty in the Guard. I'm not saying that you pink skins are lax; it is just that you sometimes seem to worry too much about feelings."
Sutton told the engineer about the latest episode on the bridge. Shato seem to take it all in stride until Jeff got to the end of his story. That seemed to make the Andorian take notice. At least Jeff thought so since Shato's antennae were both standing straight up.
"See, even you think that being poked in the gut is a little belittling," Sutton said defensively.
"No it is not that," Shato said with real trepidation in his voice. "She invited you for physical activities?" The Andorian asked putting an emphasis on his last two words. At Sutton's nod the engineer continued in a warning tone. "That is very serious indeed."
"You see, you see!" Sutton said emphatically. "You agree--She has it out for me! How am I going to make things right? You're an Andie—Andorian; what do I need to do here?"
"She has it out for you," Shato said ruefully. "But not in the way you think. An invitation for physical activities from one of a different sex is one of the first steps in Andorian courting rights. A female would want to see what kind of potential mate you would make." The Andorian seemed thoughtful, "still it could just be that she has been among humans." Shato laughed. "I warned you that first day pink skin!"
"I think you are just pulling my leg," Sutton said with a grin. "And I'll try eighteen C; but it is on your head if I come down with pneumonia."
"Perhaps our first officer will be pulling your leg Jeff," Shato said with a very human grin.
