Salintac, Capital city of the Tellarite Union, Tellar Apr 2157

"It is about time you made it back here you smelly sack of excrement!" Creel Zarn exclaimed.

"I was in no hurry to see an ugly creature like you Zarn" Ambassador Kelly O'Donnell answered with a smile. "But you know what I have come for."

"Free food," the Tellarite answered then continued after a growling sigh. "There is a possibility that we can expect an attack here or on Kamaga. Yes, yes we are not as backwards as are you smelly, sweaty humans. Tas Shavma sent a coded message saying that was the likely reason for the atrocities against your people on Terra Nova."

"Taskforce 25 is enroute with Hercules missiles," O'Donnell said then continued quietly; "but they can't possibly get here on the schedule we had issued previously. They had to take extra time to transfer cargo and so forth."

"I won't lie to you Kelly," Zarn said giving the Tellarite equivalent of a shrug. "We were counting on those missiles. But my engineers tell me that they can modify the guidance system on our merculite rockets for greater distance. We have put that in place on several of our orbiting missile platforms."

"President Thorpe has told me assure you personally that earth stands with you and your people," O'Donnell said formally. "We do not forget our friends." The human ambassador's voice took on a conspiratorial tone. "We hope to deal with a Birdie attack on your world or Kamaga in another way."

"Which you cannot tell me?" Zarn asked in a clearly disappointed voice.

"You are too thickheaded to listen anyway," the ambassador said. "It is not that I am keeping secrets. I believe that the president is worried about Romulan spying." O'Donnell related to Zarn the discovery of Romulan spy drones near Saturn and as far in the Sol system as Mercury. "They self-destructed," O'Donnell explained. "But we have no idea how long they were there or how much information they gathered. All I can say to you is that I believe Thorpe when he says we are going to be there for you."

"We received dispatches through your military about the drones," Zarn answered. "We have discovered one in our system so far." The Tellarite let out a growl of frustration. "It will not bode well if Tellar is attacked. We Tellarites are stubborn bastards but the political alliance I had to form for us to go to war is very tenuous."

"I believe that the president is aware of that," O'Donnell answered.

"Is he?" Zarn answered pointedly. When O'Donnell asked the Tellarite leader to explain Zarn continued: "Some agents representing the Sons' of Terra have been in contact with some of our politicians here. I do not know what is going on in your mud pit Kelly but you need to settle your internal differences. Even an idiot like you must see that when your world appears unsure of its direction that it makes it hard for allies to stand with you."

"I understand," O'Donnell answered bitterly. "These Sons' of Terra; I know you have a word that means bottom-feeder only worse."

"Z'ar'taz," Zarn answered.

"That is what these Sons' of Terra are," O'Donnell answered. "The president is reluctant to engage them in anything more than the political arena. As much of a pain in the ass as the Sons' are; we have experienced more than one horrible time when members of one group tried to suppress the voices of others. Thorpe is hoping that the idiocy they are spewing out will destroy them."

"I understand Kelly," Zarn replied. "But tell this to Thorpe—and this is a formal message between our governments. Your people are at war. It is time for you to admit that. Thorpe needs to crack down on his internal dissidents within the reaches of his power. Even we Tellarites would not permit this sort of thing in public. While it is true that we have our own variety of Z'ar'taz by custom they do their actions in private. Thorpe allowing these Sons' of Terra a voice without responding to it is setting up a dangerous situation for your allies Kelly."

Kelly had seen the situation back on earth. It had been almost a century since humans had experienced a war. For humans it had become as Kelly recalled an old speech made by Zefram Cochrane saying: War, poverty, hunger, they are all going to be gone soon. The old scientist had sounded so self-assured of his prediction. But it had come to pass. Earth hadn't experienced war in almost a century. Everyone had more than enough food and no one was poor. So it was that no one had seen the like of the political machinations that were occurring now.

O'Donnell had been studying history. There was certainly precedent for opposing groups during times of war. O'Donnell had gone all the way back to the English occupation of Ireland all the way through earth's last global war. Political opportunists had always existed on both sides. The only thing that bothered O'Donnell about the present situation was that for once man was not at the throat of his neighbor. No one knew the Birdies' politics. But it seemed likely that they had little regard for human life. So much, the human ambassador thought, for the old assertion that an external enemy would unite mankind.

Still, the Sons' of Terra were a comparatively small group. Their outlook for the June elections was not a good one: Andorian and Tellarite aid as well as the victories over Sol and Deneva had cost the group. Polling data showed that they were likely to lose some council seats that had looked like easy victories for them in December. The Sons had even taken money away from those losing campaigns to put against others where the outlook was better for them. But O'Donnell knew that many small groups had been the seed for much larger activities. The genetically engineered supermen of the late twentieth century were an example of that.

O'Donnell looked up to see the Tellarite coolly appraising him. The ambassador knew that he had been quiet for several minutes now. Zarn was right, O'Donnell reflected. Thorpe had once been nicknamed the 'gentleman campaigner'. But it was clearly the time for United Earth President to take the gloves off with regards to his opponents.

"Your concerns are what are expected from one as hysterical as yourself Zarn." O'Donnell said at last. "I will relay your foolish concerns to President Thorpe." O'Donnell rose and after exchanging minor insults left Zarn's office for his own residence.

Taskforce 27, Tellarite Station Kamaga, May 2157

The Pioneer class vessels Excelsior and Protector were at opposite points around the alien space station. The destroyers Wolverton, and Melbourne were arrayed at different points as well. The Mons Olympus tankers Thera Macula, Mount Cuba, Mont Blanc, Cho Oyu and Ceres had been drained of deuterium and were currently being used as a secondary line of defense around the station. The two remaining Andorian battleships and four of their light cruisers had established a formation. The Tellarite destroyers were still docked at the station having their supplies of merculite rockets brought back up to one-hundred percent. Roving patrols of the small deadly Andorian fighters completed the station's bolstered defenses.

At the station itself a smaller battle was in progress. This one rather than being fought with lasers and missiles was being fought with words. Admiral Maxwell Forrest had summoned a meeting with his commanders. The group was in the same compartment from where Forrest had made the historic decision to come to the defense of earth no more that four months earlier.

"We never expected the Birdies to give up easily," Forrest said to the assembled human and alien officers.

"I don't know if I really expect them to hit here," Capt. Rizal Raja of the Protector said. "As much as losing Kamaga would hurt losing Tellar as an ally would be far more serious. It is with that thought in mind that I question why we have invested so much in the defense of this station; respectfully sir."

"I realize why you are concerned," Forrest replied. "I am taking another gamble here." Forrest looked around at the assembled officers. "The carriers Nimitz, Prince of Wales, Intrepid and Cowpens are being deployed about Tellar." The tall admiral sighed. "Originally I had planned on using the carriers on a drive to re-take Deneva. Since the action that occurred over Wolf I've had to change those plans." Forrest nodded towards Raja. "President Thorpe wanted me to commit the entire force to the defense of Tellar. I convinced him to rely on Buchanan's carriers instead."

Capt. Kozumi of the Wolverton let out a low whistle. "You did indeed lay everything on the line sir."

"If we can hold Kamaga as well as defeating an attack on Tellar I hope that will cause the Birdies to stop long enough for us to mount an invasion of Deneva." Forrest said. "If the main hammer stroke falls here we are as prepared as we can be. I have authorized Grizzly Oulette to push out with his cargo of Hercules missiles for Tellar. But I can tell you that the birdies didn't waste their ships on that attack on Wolf. Grizz will be here in three weeks. I expect any attack to come sooner than that."

"We need some of the new mam ships," Kozumi declared. "With those we could have taken up station between here and Tellar and made it in time to defend either target."

"A lot of the Powhatons were built but they are escorting the carriers," Forrest answered. "Taskforce 30 is scheduled to relieve us but they won't be here for another six weeks. Until then we have to hold this station."

"What have the readings from Deneva been?" Capt. Raja asked.

"Nothing conclusive," Forrest replied with a frown. There are ships seen entering then leaving the system. I suspect they could be rebuilding their facilities there. Examination of the Minotaur's video showed what we believe to be a deuterium manufacturing plant as well as buildings which could be anything from living quarters to warehouses—or both."

"They are there no longer," Colonel Kanza of the Andorian battleship Shonn said with a dry chuckle. The Andorian officer was about to say more when the warbling tones of what passed for a Tellarite alert klaxon sounded. A Tellarite lieutenant entered the briefing room seconds later.

"This is no time for a party!" the Tellarite exclaimed with the abrasiveness typical of his people. "Sorry admiral the sensors show an approaching force of unknowns. Nineteen ships on a heading for the station at warp 2.5."

"This looks like it folks," Forrest said as the group broke up to shuttle back to their respective ships.

"I wonder," Colonel Kanza said quietly. "It is an impressive force but not enough to penetrate our defenses here." The Andorian looked at the human admiral. "Perhaps it is time to send some sort of warning to Tellar."

Star Fleet fighter Squadron 12, UES Intrepid, half of a light year out from Tellar

Walters hated this part. The Minotaur was part of a revolving chamber inside of the two-hundred and thirty-five meter length of the Intrepid. The pilot always feared that the launch mechanism would fail before the Minotaurs could be launched. Being lead for Squadron 12 allowed Walters to launch first. Logically the lieutenant knew that if any of the fifty meter long cigar-shaped fighters were to become jammed then blow-out plating would open up parts of the Intrepid herself allowing the carrier to launch its fighters.

"Sensors show forty-two Birdies on a course for Tellar Prime," Ensign Vince Mason said. "It also looks like they are making some kind of a move against Kama station." The naval officer said using the human slang for the Tellarite station.

"I guess that was the third alternative the Admiral was talking about," Walters said to Mason. "That the Birdies try for to sweep everything."

"Minnie 5 just launched out," Walters' copilot announced. "Okay get ready to go to warp Vince." Lt. William Walters notified his charges to form up on his ship as the small fighters prepared to expel their small anti-matter packets in a micro-flight to Tellar Prime. Walters watched the small video screen on his console depicting the layout of his fighters. The Star Fleet fighters were soon formed into a V-formation. Seconds later the fighters stretched away to infinity as they entered subspace.

UES Excelsior, in orbit of the Tellarite station Kamaga, May 2157

"The battle group is reporting in ready admiral," Captain Yoshi Nakamura told his commanding officer. The Naha native looked at the admiral when Forrest failed to acknowledge his information. "Is everything alright sir?"

Forrest was looking intently at the viewscreen. The admiral had ordered a tactical display overlaid on the bridge viewer. Forrest looked at the captain then back at the display. Finally he said:

"This doesn't feel right Yoshi. Lieutenant Ma'z," Forrest turned to the Tellarite navigator. "Calculate a likely point where the Birdies would start to turn aside were they to press on to Tellar."

"Do you think that they are going to throw their combined forces against Tellar?" Nakamura asked pointedly. The battle group had received word of the ships headed for Tellar.

"I don't know," Forrest replied quietly as the admiral stroked his chin distractedly. "The Birdies have never split their forces like this for an attack. There are just too damn many variable here."

"Sir," the communications NCO chimed in. "The fighters report fully engaged near Tellar." The woman got a concerned look on her face before continuing her report. "They are reporting what they say is an inordinate amount of fighters." The woman held her hand up to her earpiece. "General Yial is asking to deploy his fighters' sir," the woman said.

"Negative," Forrest said abruptly. "Lieutenant Ma'z how close are they to the line of divergence?" Forrest asked the Tellarite. The navigator reported that the Romulan group was four minutes from that point.

"Yoshi," Forrest tuned to his first officer. "Hold our fighters until they hit that point. I have a feeling that the Birdies aren't planning on stopping here."

Three minutes dragged past like three hours for the human and alien bridge crew. Yial had done as instructed although Forrest was painfully aware that if the Romulans did choose to attack the station it would be a scramble for the Andorian to position his fighters. The blips on the viewscreen drew closer to the point that Lieutenant Ma'z had caused to be illuminated on the bridge viewscreen.

"Sir Admiral Buchanan reports that the Birdies have launched more fighters from this group than he has seen previously," the communications chief reported.

"They are moving past the point!" Ma'z exclaimed. "It is still possible that they could alter their heading for the station but the pirates are currently on a heading for the Tellar system!"

"Order the fleet to form up and pursue," Forrest told Captain Nakamura. The admiral slammed his clenched fist down on the arm rest of the captain's chair. "That was it all along. Chief put Admiral Buchanan over the bridge speaker."

The communications NCO complied by running the time lagged recording she had made of Admiral Buchanan from the Intrepid. The admiral's voice had a mechanical tinge to it as it had been run through a digital decoder:

"Intrepid actual to Taskforce 27; Romulan group has released a large number of fighters. Eightballs number at least twice what we have seen the Sabinus class cruiser launch before."

"Fleet is formed up," Nakamura said.

"Lay in a pursuit course and engage at warp 2.7," Forrest said. The admiral's worry showed in his face.

"That could mean that they could have converted interior space to hangar more fighters," Nakamura conjectured.

"That and it is also possible that these extra fighters are on a one way mission," the admiral said. "We use of every bit of space we have necessities and fuel. I'm betting the Birdies do the same thing."

"You can only remove so many crew quarters," Captain Nakamura said as dawning realization came over his face. "But removing storage tanks would create a lot of extra space."

The United Earth Stellar Navy ships of Taskforce 27 warped away into subspace along with their alien allies. Minutes ahead of the allied force, the Romulan ships continued on toward Tellar.

Star Fleet fighter Squadron 12, near the fifth planet of the Tellar system, May 2157

Lt. William Walters was vaguely aware of his own breathing echoing in his helmet. The Minotaur had not been in combat for five minutes before it a hole was cut into its hull opening the interior to the vacuum of space. Walters had decided to dump the ship's atmosphere before going into combat so the loss had been minimal. The fighter squadron had warped into hell. Two of the Minotaurs had failed prelaunch checks so the humans were reduced to eighteen rather than twenty of the fighters that had been planned for. They were confronted by wave after wave of the spherical Romulan fighters.

"Christ I don't even have to aim and I'll hit one!" Ensign Vince Mason exclaimed.

Walters' copilot though exaggerating wasn't far from the truth. Romulan fighters outnumbered their human counterparts by better than three-to-one. Only the thick pattern of highly reflective metallic mumbo-jumbo had saved the humans from sudden annihilation. Apparently Walters mused the Birdies had not found a way to defeat that—yet, he thought bitterly. Walters turned the craft on its axis causing it to flip over perpendicular to its flight path as two of the spherical fighters passed beneath the Minotaur.

"Line 'em up!" his copilot shouted as Mason fired a Corsair at one of the Eightballs while the second split in half as the two nose mounted pulse lasers of the Minotaur caught the Romulan in their deadly beams. The Corsair tracked in on the second sphere fighter but the nimble ship narrowly avoided the missile.

Walters caused his Minotaur to accelerate along its new heading as the tone of the threat warning system told the pilot that he was in someone's gun sight. The pilot ordered more of the radar fouling micro-metallic particle dropped along with a Corsair. No sooner had Mason done as ordered then Billy reoriented the Minotaur toward three passing Eightballs. One of Romulans pursuing Walters were destroyed by the near explosion of the Corsair the second was cut into shreds by Walters wingman. Mason cut loose with the Minotaur's lasers again destroying one out of the group of three. A second Eightball maneuvered wildly but did not escape the blast of the Corsair that Mason had fired at it.

"Damnit Sluggo some of the cap ships are making a run on Tellar!" Lieutenant Sharon Patelli agitated voice cried over Walters' helmet headset.

"Squadron's 14 and 8 pursue," Walters heard Commander David Hennessey's voice ordering over his headset. Hennessey was overall commander of the combined group of fighters. Damn Walters thought; that only left twelve or so of the surviving Minotaurs to contend with three times that many Eightballs. Walters looked in his heads-up display to see the formation he was facing. Mason let out a whoop when he blasted two more of the spherical Romulan fighters.

Everything was extraordinarily slow. Walters changed the relative vector of his fighter three quick successive times. Even Billy who was controlling the craft felt the slow wave of nausea pass over him as the fighter's artificial gravity strained to keep up with Walter's flying. Billy glanced over quickly at Mason whose mouth was visibly moving in his helmet. Walters heard Mason but it was a surreal sound like someone calling out to him in a dream. The pilot tuned his attention to his display as another spherical enemy craft was shredded by laser fire. Walters could see the pieces visibly separate in a slow nightmarish sequence.

Walters glanced at Mason again. A red flash visibly lit the up the interior of the Minotaur. Walters was consciously aware that the flash had been quick but it seemed to Billy to linger on forever. Walters heard Mason's gleeful exclamation as his shooting scored another Eightball. Mason was smiling when the back of his chair near the top of his helmet along with Masons head was removed by shrapnel. Walters turned away quickly although it seemed like he was presented with the view of his dead friend's corpse for several minutes. Billy took over the weapons' control sending a combination of blistering laser fire and a Corsair towards three of the Romulan spheroid fighters.

UES Excelsior, inbound for the Tellar system, May 2157

"Time to intercept?" the admiral asked Lieutenant Ma'z. The Tellarite studied some readouts briefly before returning with an answer of three minutes. Forrest sat back and rubbed at his forehead.

"You still think that something is wrong sir?" Captain Nakamura asked.

"Helm same as before," Forrest started. "Calculate a break point where the Birdies would either turn inbound to Tellar or continue on. Chief Kalam," the admiral said turning to his communications' NCO. "Is Kamaga reporting anything?"

"Negative sir; but we now have a two-minute time delay between them and us." The chief replied curtly.

"Chief Kalam," Forrest said, "using the point that Lieutenant Ma'z calculates as a point for the Romulans to continue on to Tellar or turn away what will the time-delay be at that point?"

The Indian woman turned and tapped a few commands into the keyboard below her communications' console. Seconds later she turned back to the taskforce commander with the answer. "Three point six minutes at that point sir."

"Damn," Nakamura said softly under his breath. "That also means an attacking group laying just outside of subspace sensor range could make a run on the station."

"Exactly," the admiral replied. Forrest's face was pinched. "We'll continue on. The president's orders call for protecting Tellar Prime. If those ships do turn inbound they are sure to do damage to our friends."

Near Tellar Prime, May 2157

The space became littered with high speed merculite rockets. Three Romulan Sabinus class vessels and two accompanying Veronus class cruisers were instantly obliterated by the barrage of high speed explosive projectiles. Minotaur fighters engaged some of the Romulans resulting in the destruction of another Chowder and two more Cabbages. Three of the little Minotaurs were sliced to pieces when they were caught in the deadly, invisible crossfire of Romulan lasers. Tellarite cruisers traded blows with their Romulan counterparts. Four more Cabbages and three of the smaller Veronus class cruisers were reduced to scrap by Tellarite destroyers. The costs were high though as three of the Tellarite vessels were destroyed as, depleted of their rockets they attempted to escape Romulan counterfire.

Tellarite rocket satellites sent out wave after wave of the little needle-nosed merculite rockets. Romulan cruisers soon found that not all of the defensive platforms had as long a range as others. These satellites soon found themselves under assault from Romulan plasma cannons. Dangerous gaps were being opened in the orbital defense nets. Twelve Sabinus class cruisers along with five Veronus class vessels broke away from the fray and made their way closer to the green world of Tellar. Four Minotaurs elongated into normal space with a flash. The squadron of Star Fleet fighters raked across the separate group of seventeen Romulan ships. The small fighters fired lasers and Corsair missiles at the group of Romulan attackers heading for Tellar. Two Chowders and and a Veronus were destroyed by the strafing run of the fighters.

Gradually fighters that had been engaging the main group broke away to defend Tellar. The seventeen attackers were soon reduced to eight. At the same time the main group vanished into subspace. The final group of attackers was eliminated when the last Sabinus class cruiser was hit by a combination of three Corsairs and a flight of merculite rockets.

Tellarite space station Kamaga, May 2157

The six green-colored ships lined up in a loose formation. Andorian fighters rushed out from their defensive positions to engage to Romulan attackers. White beams of Romulan plasma cannons flashed across space hitting several of the nimble Andorian fighter craft. Several of the beams aimed at the station itself detonated short of their intended target; intercepted by high speed area defense missiles. Five of the Sabinus class ships formed a separate group. The five Romulan cruisers fired another salvo of their plasma cannons. Andorian fighters were swept away by the concentrated withering super accelerated plasma. The remaining Sabinus cruiser briefly accelerated in normal space then went into warp.

A split second later the Romulan cruiser hit the cylindrical bulk of Kamaga just under one of the stations many arms that were the berthing places for arriving ships. The station was cut in half by the resulting impact and silent explosion of the Cabbage. The two halves of the station spun lazily through space. Expelled gases crystallized into frozen particles at the same time as melted metal and plastic left a glowing trail. The lower half of the wounded station containing the fusion reactor exploded seconds later. Only a few pieces of torn superheated metal marked where the station had once been.

The five Cabbages fired again at the oncoming Andorian attackers then turned away. The Romulans picked up speed as glowing gashes appeared on the hulls of some of the escaping Cabbages. Some of the fighters were within range. Missiles leapt from beneath the spear-shaped Andorian fighters. The deadly speeding devices were closing on their targets when the Romulan ships lengthened into narrow points and vanished into subspace.

Taskforce 27, inbound for Tellar Prime, May 2157

"They are continuing on in warp admiral," Chief Kelvin Harris said from his post at the Excelsior's sensor station. "The group attacking Tellar has gone to warp as well. It looks like a coordinated effort that should put them together at a point less than half a light year out."

"Distress beacon coming from Kamaga admiral," Chief Rehinka Kalam said as she twisted on her earpiece; "sounds like an automated disaster beacon."

"It is a disaster alright," Admiral Forrest said softly. "Okay chief," Forrest said to the Indian communications' NCO. "Raise Admiral Buchanan on the secure channel; tell him he is cleared in to retrieve his fighters. Tell him to dispatch the Prince of Wales and its group to Kamaga." Forrest sighed as he spoke the name of the now destroyed station. The admiral continued, "Call the Protector and Mount Cuba then and have them rendezvous with the Prince of Wales for rescue work."

Captain Nakamura approached Forrest. The oriental officer spoke quietly: "There is no way you could've seen what happened. If we had split our forces no doubt the Birdies would've continued the attack on Tellar. You know and I know a few of them would've gotten through."

"Maybe," Forrest replied sadly. "We needed that station as a stepping stone to retake Deneva. Now the Birdies can operate unobserved out of there and it'll make the invasion all that much harder."

"No one, least of all you," Nakamura said; "Harbored any illusion that the Birdies were done."

"It is almost like we are back at the beginning of this thing again Yoshi," the admiral said. "We need information! We need to know what drives the Birdies. Who knows how many ships they can deploy from Topaz now." Forrest looked around at the downcast faces of the Excelsior's bridge crew. The admiral realized that they did not need to hear gloom and doom. "But we have new ships on the way and the mam reactors. The carriers kicked butt today against a foe with three times our number! And we did what the president ordered; we protected Tellar. Despite the loss of Kamaga a raid on one of our allies might have caused our friends to back out."

"Put us in orbit around Tellar Lt. Ma'z," Forrest said with a visibly renewed sense of vigor, "looks like this war is going to go on for a few more months."

New Orleans, Louisiana, Earth, May 2157

Frank McCoy started salivating at the spicy smells emanating from the kitchen. The intelligence chief took another sip of his coffee as he waited for his guests. McCoy was glad that they had picked this place to meet. At least the food smelled delicious. McCoy hoped that his new companions would be as hungry as he was now. The NCO was glad when two men and a woman entered the restaurant. McCoy recognized the one man. He did not know the other two but he found the woman, a tall brunette with her hair tied up and behind her in the latest fashion to be quite attractive. She was also a full decade younger than Frank. The other stranger was a tall young man with a close cut head of prematurely graying hair. These had to be his contacts that he was scheduled to meet.

McCoy had attended a second meeting of the Sons' of Terra. The local chapter in Virginia had been quite small so the members were always on the look out for new people; especially people who might be considered for later membership. The intelligence officer had started a heated discussion about the deaths of young humans in defense of aliens. McCoy's anti-alien rhetoric must have interested the hardcore members of the political organization. The local chapter head; a tall thin woman with severely bitten fingernails had called McCoy two days after the meeting and asked if he could meet with candidate Mark Hawkins along with two others in two weeks. Captain Soames had great fully approved McCoy's request for a short leave of absence.

Frank stood up and greeted the newcomers. There was much pumping of hands and a little small talk as McCoy discovered that the young lady; she was in her early thirties but still Frank thought of her as a young woman, was named Eileen Thomas. McCoy realized with a start that he recognized the white haired man as well. It was just that Frank could not recall his name. But the man figured prominently on vidcasts. But recall was not necessary as the man introduced himself as Marcus Young. Young was sporting a huge purplish bruise on the right side of his face. McCoy remembered reading of a distraught French woman beating up a vid reporter in France.

The small group seated themselves. McCoy was glad to see them all take up menus. The intelligence non commissioned officer had heard of the good reputation of this restaurant from Lieutenant Crosby so he was anxious to try it for himself. Thinking of Crosby made McCoy wonder how his former coworker and friend was doing. Crosby along with Lt. Gupta had both left under mysterious circumstances. McCoy had an old friend aboard the Wolverton when he met his buddy on his last landfall he had asked about the ship's new intelligence officer but his friend had indicated that he had not heard of Tara before. Frank had been in intelligence long enough to know when to quit. The NCO had quickly backpedaled and told his friend that he, McCoy, was mistaken. Frank realized that Hawkins was speaking.

"You seem to have some interesting views about aliens Frank," the fat candidate said. Hawkins took a drink of water and then continued. "Fran McCarthy was very interested in what you had to say at the last Virginia meeting."

"Just saying what is on my mind is all," McCoy answered quietly.

"Those same thoughts are on a lot of people's mind Mister McCoy," Marcus Young said. "I wish that we had more people like you in the military who follow in the fine example of Admiral French." Young paused then continued; "hell of deal that: Being made to retire like that after he had led the battle against the Romulans; another hero lost that can be put down against Thorpe."

"Yes sir," McCoy started but was interrupted when Young continued.

"And now more of our people dead," Young said bitterly; "dead defending a bunch of the pig-snouts!"

"Yes sir," Frank started to speak again when this time Eileen interrupted.

"I'm sure that Mr. McCoy, Frank, may I call you Frank?" the woman asked. At McCoy's answering nod she said: "I'm sure that Frank can speak for himself, Marc. I mean after all someone doesn't get to be in naval intelligence by being stupid." The woman looked at McCoy with a slight smile on her lips.

"We certainly wouldn't be out there if it wasn't for the aliens," McCoy said smiling back at the woman. He found her quite attractive until it occurred to him that was perhaps the intent of bringing her to the meeting. "A lot of the expansion that led to this thing wouldn't have happened if we hadn't had the alien influences making us push out further than what we should have." There McCoy thought; the trouble was that his rhetoric came so easy. All one had to do to become like these people the NCO thought was to shut off the cognitive portion of one's brain. Once that was done it was easy to spew out nonsense that appealed to people who belonged to the Sons' of Terra.

"You are right there Frank," Young said. "I can see that you are a very bright man; very smart indeed. One does not come to those types of conclusions without deep thought."

No, Frank thought, one comes to those types of conclusions out of emotionalism and hysteria. Young waxed on until McCoy became sick of the vidcaster's increasingly patronizing attitude. Despite McCoy's feelings about Mark Hawkins ancestry and probable relationship to his mother he was glad when the candidate interrupted the officious journalist.

"Marc takes a long time to say that we are interested in you," Hawkins grimaced at the warning glance he received from Young. "We are 'sposed to feel you out. But y'all are smart enough to see that. I like your views; hell we all like your views. We know you can't do much for us publicly since you are a serviceman." Hawkins winked at McCoy. "But you could do other things for us. Help us with information."

"Or write up some of your thoughts down for us," Eileen interjected with a warm smile on her face. "We won't mention you by name but remember Thomas Paine did a great service for the old American colonies by writing his thoughts down." She looked into Frank's eyes. "I would love reading anything you wrote Frank."

Yes I bet you would, McCoy thought. It would also indict McCoy if it was ever discovered that he was writing seditious comments. Freedom of speech was a civilian luxury. The military was all too clear about the consequences for its people who spoke out in political capacities; especially when they were wearing the uniform.

"Sure I can do that Miss Thomas," McCoy answered.

"Please call me Eileen, Frank," The woman said. "I do so admire our men—and women in uniform. Intelligence must be fascinating work." Eileen paused and frowned. "And sad too, seeing our people lured into this unjust war by aliens and race traitors. That Thorpe! Why he isn't even an American. If it wasn't for him we could be looking at winning several seats this June."

Thorpe had been sinking in the polls despite support from some of the other major political parties. It was not Christophur Thorpe but rather his wife Maggie who had made comments during an interview saying how many in the Sons' of Terra had never worn a uniform—except perhaps for prison coveralls. The blistering remark, said in jest had been circulating among the populace and was being repeated. Frank happened to think that the statement held a grain of truth to it: The majority of supporters of the Sons' had never served in the military and many had been actively opposed to exploration. That some had been in prison Frank knew was a crass exaggeration. McCoy smiled nonetheless.

"I see that you agree with me," Thomas said catching McCoy's eye. Frank realized that she had mistaken his smile for agreement and perhaps a little more. At least he thought he read that in her eyes.

"Of course," McCoy said agreeably. "The president needs his wife to defend him." Yes it was too bad Frank thought. Thorpe should have said those words himself and more. The president, McCoy thought didn't deserve to be taking a beating from this ilk.

"Yes hiding behind his wife who was nothing more than a corporate hack," Marcus Young interjected. The vidcaster cooled down somewhat then continued in his patronizing manner. "You and I and all of us here are smart enough to see that." The journalist said sweeping his arm around the table. "But the people are not that smart Frank. They are easily beguiled by coy expressions; especially at a time like this. We need men such as you to tell them the truth."

"Yes indeed," Hawkins said. "Look at Marc! That French woman whacked him a good one! And the goddamned police didn't do anything about it!"

"That is terrible!" McCoy exclaimed while thinking that the woman hadn't hit the journalist hard enough.

"It is!" Eileen added; "just think; if it wasn't for the war which we are against anyway her boy never would've had to go out there to fight and die! How stupid—well that is not nice. The woman was grief stricken of course."

"Well enough of business for now," Hawkins said rubbing his ample stomach. "I am hungry." The candidate looked around for a waiter and finally signaled towards a tall black man wearing an apron. The man looked anything but pleased to be waiting on customers. The group soon found out why.

"Good evening," The waiter said pleasantly enough. "I hope y'all are enjoying New Orleans." The waiter made that sound like 'nawlins'. "But I'm afraid I cain't serve you tonight." The man turned serious. "In fact I suggest y'all finish your water—hey it's on the house; and leave." The man gestured around the restaurant. "A lot of my customers have boys and girls servin' in the navy. We even get a few navy people here when they are home and not out fightin' for all of us." The man looked at Hawkins and then at Young. "So you see Sisko's here is a nice place. We don't need your kind in here."

Hawkins seemed to be about to say something when Young reached across the checkered tablecloth and took the perspective politician's arm. Young motioned for Hawkins to not make a scene. Eileen Thomas looked shocked and even a little like she was on the verge of tears. McCoy chuckled inwardly until he realized that these people were supposed to be his friends. McCoy waited until the big man, who he now supposed must be the namesake behind Sisko's left. Then he tried his best to look as outraged as the rest of the tiny group. Frank did feel a little sorry that Eileen had gotten hurt. She was a pretty girl he thought. The trio finished their water and got up and headed outside. McCoy hoped that one day he could return to Sisko's. The food really had smelled delicious.

They all made their goodbyes after agreeing to meet again in a week. McCoy thought that the first probing move in finding out where his allegiances lay had been made. The NCO was betting that the group would discuss how much further to bring McCoy into the organization. Eileen Thomas hung back as the two men left.

"No reason why we can't find a descent place," The brunette said in what McCoy guessed was some sort of New England accent. "We could have some coffee. Maybe you can tell me more about what you do. I sure would like to hear more about you."

McCoy walked with the woman. There was a small diner around the corner of the next block.

UES Daedelus, beyond charted space, May 2157

Commander Lisa Somers paced about the small upper deck of the bridge. She leaned over Chief Peter Custis' console. The communications' chief was displaying an electromagnetic signal that he had picked up only an hour earlier. Lisa had the night watch. The Stellar Navy commander had been around long enough to know not to wake the skipper for some anomaly. Somers needed more information before she would do that. One thing for sure: This particular anomaly was beginning to become very interesting.

"I wish we had more information on this sector," Somers complained.

"Goddamned Pointies have been out this far," Chief Custis started then slammed his fist down on his console. When he saw the first officer's look of consternation the chief explained: "I told you sir; something about this signal was familiar to me—I think. Let me run it through the signal processor again only this time I want to narrow the parameters."

Somers waited while the man inputted some commands into his keyboard. The first officer had become impressed with the man's efficiency. She had looked up Custis' service record and found that, like many enlisted people he had been offered a commission to fill some of the badly depleted officer billets. The man had refused. Somers had started to inquire of the man why that was when she had detected a great sadness about him. Somers let the matter drop. She had also been around long enough to know that she would find out all that she wanted to know through the grapevine. On Stellar Navy craft that informal method of communication was sometimes far faster than electrons jammed through a microprocessor. The chief looked up at her as two graphs overlaid one another almost perfectly on his terminal's video.

"Speaking of Pointies that got me thinking," Custis said warming to the explanation of his discovery. "This signal is a lot like a standard Pointie signal. The only thing is," The chief paused. "It is old styled shortwave wireless. Like I said when we picked it up it has probably been getting beamed out from 61 Virginis for almost two years now." The man looked at his display again. "One point nine one five standard years; there the Pointies ain't got nothing on me!" The man looked at his display again. "And yes sir we were right—it is a beacon—distress."

Lisa took a deep breath. The Vulcans had been out a lot further than man. If this was one of their ships why were they beaming a signal out at sublight speeds? Given its repetitive nature both she and the chief had quickly concluded that it was some sort of a beacon. Somers crossed her arms over her chest. Lisa wondered if it could be some sort of bait laid out by the Birdies. Some of the Stellar Navy's spy drones had been destroyed around this region. They were, in the best estimate of intelligence approaching the Romulan border.

Somers stepped down into the lower deck of the bridge. "Chief Matsui," Somers asked the navigator Chief Walter Matsui. The tall Oregon native looked up at the first officer. "Calculate how long it would take if we angled through that system." Somers turned to the sensor officer Lt. Li Chang. "Li, show me a graphic of that system and tell me what you think."

The main viewscreen changed from a view of the characteristic star streaks of subspace passage to one of a representation of a planetary system. Dark areas showing planets had numerical and graphical readouts below each body showing the respective planet's mass and temperature.

"I tracked Peter's signal down to the fourth planet," Chang said. "According to my readings it has the right mass and temperature for a Minshara class world. On the other hand reflectivity and spectrographic returns say that the atmosphere—whatever that is; is pretty thin."

"Sir it would take us two days to track into that system from our present location," Matsui said. "Our closest pass is in eight hours and that would put us a little over a day and a half out."

That gives them a little time Lisa thought. No need to wake the captain. Somers looked back to see Lt. Alvin Crosby standing at rear of the bridge. She decided that an intelligence slant on the whole affair might be useful. Anyway Somers thought, she would tell Captain Cromwell about their discovery when he relieved her. After that based on the captain's decision the whole crew would find out. The commander filled Crosby in what had happened.

"A Pointie signal eh?" Crosby asked. "I think that it is worth pursuing. They haven't told us a damn thing since this whole thing started. I am a little concerned if this is a distress signal though. If we pick anybody up they are along for the duration. I'm not sure how the Pointies would react if we held their people."

"That is what I was thinking as well," Somers replied. "Also if this is two years old any survivors we find probably don't know about the war."

Picard coughed as soon as she entered the small lab space. Surely there must be some wiring burning somewhere. The French woman was about to alert the bridge about the possible electrical fire when the source of the smell made itself know. Dr. Omar Bashir sat back in a comfortably padded desk chair and let out a slow puff of blue smoke. When he saw Mariel the psychologist looked mournfully at the cigar he had been enjoying and started to make to stub it out in bowl that the doctor must have secured from the galley.

"Do not stop on my account," Picard said sweetly, although she hoped that he would continue putting the offensive thing out.

"Thank you my dear," Bashir said as he took another long draw on the cigar. So much for good intentions Mariel thought. "You are up early." The psychologist said. "I have been coming in here in the morning and having a smoke. The air scrubbers in this lab do a good job. My only other choice is the hangar bay and it is quite cold there."

"I heard that they have received a signal," Picard replied. Actually when she got down to it the cigar did not smell all that bad. "It is Vulcan in origin. I was going to run it through a translation matrix I have been working on and see what comes out."

"Ah," Bashir answered. "What an extraordinary people the Vulcans. I suppose one such as myself would be out of business on their world. No crime or violence to speak of. Why there is not even the occasional knock down drag out fight between couples." Bashir chuckled while looking at Mariel intently.

Picard was startled then realized that the psychologist had noticed her reaction to his last comment. "Yes," She said haltingly then added quickly; "I thought that your area of expertise was in symbology and psychology?"

"Specialization is so pedestrian," Bashir said. "Don't you think so?" He asked then continued without waiting for Picard's answer. "Much of psychology is based on observation and critical thinking. I have learned much from observing people. I suppose behavior could be mathematically plotted and predicted were we to know more about ourselves than we do now. One could predict say," Bashir paused; "the dynamics of a relationship, or a person's personality."

Picard was growing increasingly uncomfortable under what she perceived as the doctor's scrutiny. The French mathematician set about downloading the signal from the Daedelus' mainframe into her own terminal for analysis. Bashir rose and peered over her shoulder at her work.

"That is true I think," Mariel said as she tried to turn her attention to the information on the computer screen.

"Yes even now one would ask," Bashir started; "if something was wrong with someone sequestering themselves between their living space, work and the basic needs of the body. Mathematical analysis might suggest an answer to that. Perhaps the person is afraid of something—or someone."

Picard was about to tell the doctor to leave when the images on the screen changed. Both she and Bashir fell silent as they read the results. The psychologist coughed uncontrollably as he accidentally inhaled some of the cigar smoke.

"It's a warning," Mariel Picard stated succinctly. "We resolved the signal through a standard Vulcan liguacode filter. They are definitely trying to warn people off."

Captain Michael Cromwell sat back in the conference room chair. The small group consisted of the captain of the Daedelus, his first officer, Dr. Schultheiss, Lt. Crosby, Omar Bashir and Mariel Picard. They were all comfortably seated in the Daedelus' small briefing room. A three panel viewscreen dominated the center of the table. That screen was showing a graphic of Picard's interpretation of the signal.

"Captain," Lt. Alvin Crosby said. "I know you've ordered a course change for the planet but do you think that is wise? What if the Birdies are laying in wait somewhere?"

"The new scanner upgrades do not show any ships," Cromwell answered. "They are showing the existence of some sort of civilization down there. But they are not receiving any power readings meaning it is either a pre-industrial civilization or…"

"Or one that is extinct," Bashir added ominously.

"Exactly," Cromwell answered. "I want to find out what the answer is." Cromwell turned to his chief medical officer. "Trudy what do you make of the atmosphere?"

"We have gotten better readings now that we are getting closer," Schultheiss answered. "It is breathable for humans. Not a very pleasant place though; water makes up less than twenty percent of the surface. The average temperature is four C. I'll send a scoop down in the drone when we get in orbit."

Cromwell nodded. Stellar Navy procedures called for sending drones into the atmosphere of new planets. The drones sampled the air and took photos and video of intended landing sites. Scoops was medical shorthand for sampling packages that tried to find microbial life.

"Why would they try to warn people off?" Picard asked quietly. "They are so far from home."

"We don't know if we can attach a transmitter to the source," Commander Somers interjected. "Old style radio waves; the message could have been sent then the transmitter destroyed. Lt. Chang is reading metal fragments but the readings are obscured. For one thing the civilization down there used metal. It is possible I guess to answer your question Miss Picard that these Vulcans could have discovered Romulans or been discovered poking around by Romulans. Perhaps it was a warning to their people."

"Or there could be something dangerous on the surface," Bashir said.

"We'll make a low orbital pass," Cromwell declared. "I want detailed holo-photos and video. After that we'll make a decision on rather to deploy a landing party."

"I would love to see a new civilization," Picard said softly. "Even one that is extinct."

"That wouldn't be prudent!" the captain exclaimed. No one noticed the cold angry look that briefly crossed Crosby's face. Cromwell continued. "You are a civilian Miss Picard. Planetary exploration is very dangerous—even for trained navy personnel."

"Okay if there are no questions," Cromwell said in closing. No one else said anything. "We will be in orbit by tomorrow morning. I'll make a further determination on rather we send a landing party down then."

Ri-Fainu City,Vulcan, Earth year, May 2157

Lt. Tarang Gupta packed the last bit of food concentrates and water into his small back pack. The lieutenant was mindful of his time in survival school. The Indian Army liked to drop their people into the Gobi desert for two weeks. The soldiers had radios if they ended up in a bad situation. But using the radio before the training was over was a disqualifier. Gupta hadn't used his portable lifesaver but he had been tempted to. In the end Cadet Gupta had completed desert training; ten kilos lighter than when he had started but he had completed it and that was the important thing.

Sremen looked with some concern over the intelligence officer's gear. Tarang had now been around Vulcans long enough to discern somewhat of what they hid behind their façade of logic. Gupta noted the Vulcan's concern when he saw the lieutenant unpack the Colt 2011. One of earth's latest attempts at an energy weapon the colt discharged a supercharged mass of energized plasma. Nothing like a Romulan plasma cannon but very effective against personnel.

"You should not need that Tarang," Sremen said in that even unemotional Vulcan tone. "There are animal dangers in the desert but there are more peaceful ways of dealing with them. And as for other dangers—we Vulcans are a peaceful people."

"Then I shouldn't need this," Gupta said as he placed the sidearm in a shoulder holster under his travel cloak. Gupta saw that the Vulcan was still not pleased. The intelligence officer tried to divert the Vulcan's attention to other things.

"Now you remembered the Brazilian banana shipment is in three weeks?" Gupta asked in a business-like tone. "They cannot be allowed to sit in the port for more than half a day. Also do not let Captain Matai back you into a corner on extra shipping costs. He is quite aware of the terms of the contract."

"I am Vulcan I have forgotten nothing," Sremen replied.

Tarang knew that the Vulcan was as ready to take on the management of Pan-Pac's Vulcan division as Gupta had been upon arrival. Better actually since the intelligence officer and his Vulcan companion had learned much of the business together.

"Are your plans unchanged?" The Vulcan asked.

Gupta indicated that the plans for his journey had indeed not changed. The naval officer would meet T'Pol at the Ri-Fainu City terminal. The two had planned through messages exchanged through Sremen to board a ground transport for K'Alar City. Both would travel as individuals with no apparent knowledge of one another. The transport was scheduled for an intermediate stop. There the two would debark and head into the desert region known as the Forge.

"The beauty of it is that there are no fares or travel records for Vulcan rollers," Gupta told his alien companion referring to his nickname for the large Vulcan land transports. "We are officially going to K'Alar but no one will be aware if we are late for a few days. Minister Soval has said that there is a cover story for us which will explain our absence. We should be able to complete the journey to K'Henga in a week." Gupta sighed. "I would rather have gone by shuttle or aircar."

"It is not logical that one would try to cross the Forge," Sremen said. "That is one reason Minister Soval suggested this method. Also you know of the High Command's prohibition on vehicular travel into that region. But people on foot will have an easier time of it."

"And the pilgrims repeating Surak's trek through the desert?" Gupta asked in regard to Sremen's comments about crossing the Forge.

"Those people seeking Surak's wisdom have never gone through the valley," Sremen replied. "The High Command seems to be concerned only with the valley itself."

"I wonder why that is if it was a temple of logic of sorts?" Gupta muttered more to himself than the Vulcan.

"As you have read Surak himself once said that it was a place deemed to contain the evils of the past," Sremen said.

"And yet he is supposed to have put ancient tablets concerning his early life there," Gupta said then added; "or someone else did."

"Much that Surak did was shrouded in mystery," Sremen replied. "But when the purpose was finally revealed--,"

"It was logical," Gupta interrupted with a grin. Sremen's expression remained apparently unchanged but Gupta could tell that he had struck a nerve albeit a small one where Vulcan's were concerned. "I am sorry my friend. So it is with many ancient religions on my world. They exist for thousands of years and still there are new questions about their beginnings."

"Logic is not a religion," Sremen said in what Tarang thought was an almost emphatic tone.

"You believe that logic solves all problems do you not?" Gupta asked Sremen playfully. When he saw the Vulcan's answering nod he asked: "Why do you believe that?"

"Because it is logical," Sremen replied.

"One who has faith in a god or gods might say the same thing," Gupta replied. "Only they would substitute faith for logic."

"But that would not be logical," Sremen said. "Logic is a tangible thing. Faith has never solved any problems—logic has and does."

"I do believe that there are some people who would differ with you about faith," Gupta said with a chuckle. "Anyway I have a terrible feeling that all of this will get me a bad sunburn and very dirty and nothing else."

"Minister Soval differs," Sremen replied. "And it is most unusual for the High Command to intercede in such a matter. The minister reasons that there is something behind it."

"I will do my best to find out for him then," Gupta said as he put the hood of his cloak up. The human officer extended his hand to his Vulcan cohort and employee. "I know that it is against your customs but please indulge me."

The Vulcan hesitantly took the Indian officer's hand but when he did he shook it firmly. "Good luck to you Tarang. I will take care of the business while you are away." The Vulcan let go of Gupta's hand raised his own and split his fingers in the odd Vulcan salutation. "Live long and prosper Tarang."

Gupta returned the gesture. "May you do so as well my friend."

That said Gupta hoisted his pack and headed out of the door of his shop. It was fifty-two C outside of the air conditioned shop but the Indian had acclimatized so well that he hardly noticed it. The terminal was a short two kilometers away. Despite his going into the unknown the intelligence officer's thoughts were dominated by the price of oranges. He hoped that Sremen would make a good profit for Pan-Pacific.

The Indian had become so acclimated to the environment and culture that he failed to notice the hooded and cloaked figure who was observing the human's departure. The mysterious figure waited until Gupta was well on his way then set out dogging the intelligence officer's footsteps.

Sinjan class shuttle on descent toward the fourth planet of the 61 Virginis system, May 2157

The shuttle's hull glowed red from the heat of entry into the atmosphere of the planet. Cromwell hadn't flown a shuttle in the past ninety days. It was a weak excuse but between that and his insistence as captain Somers had finally relented on his including himself on the landing party. Cromwell changed the angle of entry slightly as the hull temperature readout climbed up close to the red line. The party's objective lay many hundreds of kilometers away and many thousands of meters below.

Cromwell surveyed the depressing landscape. The captain had seen the drone video but seeing it in person like this was something else entirely. The drab scenery was composed of dirty white almost gray sand broken by the occasional ruins of a city. Nothing emanated from those cities according to the Daedelus' sensors and observations. They had pinpointed where the signal had originated from down to a one-hundred square kilometer area. Observation of that area yielded the sighting of highly reflective metallic particles. Somers had suggested that it was either from a crashed ship—or one that had been hit by bombardment from above. The captain of the Daedelus hoped that they would soon know the answer.

The ruins increased in frequency as well as becoming more prominent as the shuttle made its way to the area under investigation. Apparently the bulk of whatever civilization that had been here occupied the area where the signal had come from. That made sense to Cromwell as the area was close to one of the dreary world's tiny seas. The ruins became more resolved. Ancient metal and stonework dominated the scenery. The ship's resident archeologist had suggested that whoever had built the cities was in a higher state of development. The man had suggested an earth equivalent of late twentieth to mid twenty-first century.

The moving map on the shuttle's heads-up display indicated that they were close. Cromwell fired a burst of breaking thrusters as the shuttle descended to less than two-hundred meters and five kilometers from the area. Cromwell slowed his approach. The shuttle over flew something that probably every human school child was as familiar with as their own nation's flag.

The Vulcan ship was the same type of landing craft that the Vulcans had sent down to earth over ninety years ago. It was recognizable despite its condition. Half of the craft was a torn piece of wreckage. It was a credit to its builders that the remaining part still stood on its insect like landing gear. It was not plain to Cromwell what had happened to the craft. It could have been attacked or there could have been an internal malfunction. Michael circled around until he saw a likely landing spot. Cromwell started down after warning his passengers that they were near to touchdown.

The Tellarite Lt. Cmdr. Houk was with the party as well as Lt. Crosby. The intelligence officer had insisted on a seat. The navy had been lucky in that one of the most renowned archeologists known was also a navy officer. Lieutenant Marcel Dieulafoy had enlisted in the navy so that he might be better able to sift through the ruins of the ancient Martian civilization. Three former marines now called Star Fleet security personnel completed the landing party. Cromwell brought the shuttle down with a short stomach wrenching drop. Oh well the captain thought that was why one had to periodically update their flying skills. Cromwell shut down the small craft's engines. He unstrapped and rose out of his seat.

"Get suited up gentleman and we'll check in," Cromwell instructed his team. "Remember to keep your masks on. Doctor Schultheiss didn't find any bad bugs in the scoop but you all know about the Denevian shuffle." Cromwell said referencing the rather embarrassing, but non-lethal illness that man had discovered on Deneva. "We'll take more samples at the site and if the good doctor clears us after that we can go about unmasked." The landing party was soon protected by heavy Stellar Navy jackets and filtering masks.

Cromwell rolled the shuttle's hatch up after equalizing pressure between the interior of the craft and the outside. The captain of the Daedelus stepped down onto the sandy surface of an alien world. The security troops fanned out and started to fulfill their additional roles gathering samples for the doctor. Cromwell walked ahead towards the wrecked Vulcan landing craft. Lt. Dieulafoy seemed to be on the verge of breaking into a run as he made his way to a twisted metal column embedded with stone debris. Lt. Cmdr. Houk surveyed the area around the shuttle.

"You aren't going in there sir?" One of the security chiefs asked as the captain of the Daedelus climbed up on a piece of ship wreckage. The Vulcan ship's main hatch was closed but entry was easily had from a great rent in the fabric of the ship near to the main entry hatch.

"I don't see why not," Cromwell answered. "We didn't read any bad radiation. It looks like whatever happened here was quite awhile go." Cromwell was referring to the time passage apparent in the drifting sand that was all over the deck of the craft.

"Sir!" Houk exclaimed from twenty meters off of the nose of the shuttle. The Tellarite was kneeling by was poor looking grass springing out of the hard scrabble. Cromwell turned reluctantly from his exploration of the hulk to find out what his operation's officer had discovered. Cromwell knelt beside the Tellarite along with one of the security chiefs. She looked at Cromwell apprehensively.

"Go ahead and take a bone fragment for examination O'Toole," the captain said. "I don't think that this fellow will be needing it anymore." Cromwell said as he surveyed the skeleton that Houk had discovered. "Although given the uniform I think that it safe to conclude that this was a Vulcan."

"He apparently lost his head," Houk said in his mocking Tellarite manner. The corpse was indeed headless. "I'd venture to say a laser shot. We'll get some pictures but it looks like the body fell forward. Maybe he was running."

"Or she," Cromwell added. "We'll see what Trudy and her people come up with." Cromwell acknowledged Lt. Marcel Dieulafoy's presence. "I'm glad you didn't stray too far doctor." Cromwell said addressing the man by his professional title rather than his rank. Dieulafoy seemed to prefer that. Cromwell asked if the archeologist had found anything.

"I believe that these people were engaging in research here," the Frenchman answered. "There is evidence of the start of a dig."

Cromwell sighed. He looked around some more before speaking. "So it looks like some sort of an attack but was it done by a second party or did these people take along their own danger?"

"Pointies shooting each other up?" one of the security chiefs asked incredulously.

"They have emotions," Dieulafoy interjected. "I worked with a Vulcan archeologist on the Martian dig. They keep, how do say it?" He paused. "They keep a tight leash on their emotions. But they have them." The archeologist looked at the skeleton then back toward the Vulcan ship. "I see what you mean sir. The shot that killed this person came from that direction."

"Doesn't mean a bloody thing," Cromwell said thoughtfully. "An external force might well have came in from that direction and used the ship for cover." The captain looked around. "Very well then; continue your sweeps. I want to have a look in that ship."

UES Daedelus, in orbit of the fourth planet of 61 Virginis, May 2157

Picard looked again at the data. The Vulcans had been thorough in their data collection. That was no surprise the mathematician thought given the nature of Vulcans. Unfortunately whoever had set out to do away with the data had been equally as thorough. Mariel had established that the Vulcans had indeed been studying the ruins of an ancient civilization. That is where the trail seems to have ended. Picard looked again at the notations on some of the ancient civilization's writings when she heard the lab door open behind her. She had a notion of who it might be.

"It is good to see you Alvin," Picard said in a sweet voice.

"Is it?" the intelligence officer asked sharply. "You haven't been too thrilled with my company for the past few weeks." He advanced on the woman. "I don't like that at all."

"We have all had our assignments," Picard said then she continued in a hopeful voice. "Alvin you went to a doctor did he not help you?"

"I never needed any help!" Crosby exclaimed. "The captain should never have been listening in on communications that day. She is another bitch that thinks so much of herself!" When Picard stood up in alarm Crosby rushed at her and pushed her back against the computer console. He seized her shoulders roughly in both of his hands. "Listen Mariel I am really becoming angry with you. If this is some kind of attempt to tease me I have had enough of it!" Crosby started raising a hand when the door slid open again.

"What the hell are you doing mister?" Captain Cromwell asked in a commanding tone. Crosby spun around his face a mask of anger.

"I was having a discussion with my fiancée," the lieutenant replied angrily. Crosby's face contorted as he tried to gain control over his emotions.

"Is that true Miss Picard?" Cromwell asked the woman. The captain saw the look of consternation that Crosby cast on the woman. "Don't feel restrained in your reply."

"No," Picard answered after some hesitation. "It was, it was just a discussion—nothing more." Mariel managed a smile as she turned to Crosby. "I will see you at dinner tonight?" She asked. The intelligence officer nodded in turn. Crosby looked about ready to leave when Cromwell spoke up again:

"It is good that you are both here. We will brief in an hour about what we found down there. In the meantime I came to ask Miss Picard about Dr. Dieulafoy's findings."

Crosby hovered close to Mariel as she answered the captain. "Much of the drives and data rods were too corrupted to retrieve anything. But the site itself was intact. Marcel gave me several photographs of alien glyphs. I believe that I can decipher some of them. I have only now started to look at that though."

"Good," Cromwell replied. "Do you think that you have enough to make a determination? It appears that we may have company in a few hours."

"Birdies?" Crosby asked quickly.

"Could be," Cromwell answered. "Anyway given where we are in relation to where we think their space is it is certainly a possibility. Subspace sensors show that these strangers will be in radar range in a little over four hours. I need to make sure that we have gathered enough data on what we have here. Our orders are to avoid detection so I intend to leave well prior to that."

"The explosion was definitely internal," Crosby said in reference to the Vulcan ship's destruction. "I ordered another probe run and there are possible fragments from a mother ship scattered over the surface. One of the teams is gathering some of the pieces but from what we observed their ship was hit in orbit then the pieces entered the atmosphere."

Cromwell nodded. "We never seen that before but that follows that the lander was dispatched by another ship. We know enough about the Pointies to know that."

"Then one of the coded sequences makes sense now," Picard said as she looked into the air at nothing. Both men looked at the mathematician. She continued; "I looked at a sequence in what was left of their data storage. It seemed to show commands entered starting a self destruct. I wasn't sure of the engineering details at the time I looked at that."

"Could their orbiter have self-destructed as well Crosby?" The captain asked.

"Now that you mention it," Crosby replied thoughtfully; "The largest piece we observed is less than half a meter square. That means they would either have taken a direct hit from an anti-ship missile—or an internal reactor problem."

"Very well both of you," Cromwell stroked his chin with his fingers. "Let me know at the brief if you need anything else from the surface. I want to be well away by the time these unknowns show up."

When the captain did not leave after that Mariel asked: "Is that all captain Cromwell?"

"No," The British officer answered. He seemed very uncomfortable. The captain turned to Lieutenant Crosby. "I would like to have a word in private with Miss Picard. That is an order."

"Captain it is not--," Mariel started to say.

"If you are about to say it is not necessary I beg to differ," Cromwell said. The commander of the starship shot a warning glance to Crosby who then headed out of the lab. The anger in the man was evident.

When they were alone Cromwell said: "Look Miss--,"

"Call me Mariel please captain," Picard replied.

"Very good," The captain answered. "Look Miss—Mariel—it is not for me to invade in people's private affairs but I've had some discussions with Doctor Schultheiss. She seems very concerned about you. I would've sworn that Crosby was about to strike you when I came in." Cromwell raised his hand over Picard's look of protest. "I have been concerned about this from the day your fiancée asked about rooming with you. This ship doesn't have a brig and it distresses me to no end at the thought of a naval officer being a—being a," The captain stopped briefly then continued. "Whatever, but this ship does not need that sort of distraction."

"Then what are you asking sir?" Mariel asked.

"First you two have to settle your issues," Cromwell answered firmly. "If you do not then I will." The captain continued in a more conciliatory tone then. "You don't need that Mariel. A young attractive woman like you," Picard watched as the man blushed. "You don't need that sort of thing. There are better men out there."

"It is not as you think captain," Picard replied. Yes it was she thought; it was just as he thought. She wondered what was wrong with her. Somehow she believed that once she married Alvin he would change. But she wondered briefly. No, she pushed that thought out of her head. Of course he would change. Mariel became aware that Cromwell was speaking again.

"I want you to talk to Trudy on a professional basis," Cromwell said. "I'm going to reassign you quarters in the meantime. See me after the brief."

"Sir I am a civilian," Picard said.

"Yes," Cromwell answered. "But you were told that you would be under the command of Stellar Navy personnel during this mission. That and this is my ship. If there is a problem that affects the Daedelus or its people it is my task to resolve it."

Mariel nodded. She was seething inside. She was embarrassed that her problems with Alvin had led to this. A tiny part of her was angry at herself that she had permitted such a thing. Picard pushed that anger down. She thought of her love for Crosby and the good times that they had together. But in spite of that the anger was still there.

"Very good Mariel," Cromwell said at last. "I'll see you in the briefing."

UES Beagle in orbit of Terra Nova, May 2157

Commodore Jocelyn Stiles looked again at the report. The Birdie spy drone had been left behind and carefully concealed after the Romulan attack on Terra Nova. Apparently the Birdies still did not have subspace sensors but they were learning how to obscure the Stellar Navy's sensors. Stiles' first officer Captain Edward Minford had suggested that the drone be removed immediately. Stiles had almost given that order until some ideas occurred to her. Thorpe had asked her to be a flag officer when the reality was that people like Minford had fifteen years or better experience on her. Stiles knew that she had a lot to deliver.

Stiles was also frustrated that she had been unable to get out and engage the Birdies. She had accepted her promotion with the thought in mind that she would make the Romulans pay for all that they had done. So far all Taskforce 18 had managed to do was send cargo handlers over to Oulette's Taskforce 25 to transfer the cargo of deadly Hercules missiles and other war materials from freighters to Oulette's ships. That and her people had sent help down to Walston City. The death toll had not been as bad as it could have been but the Birdies nerve gas canisters had wrecked havoc among the inhabitants and relief workers for several days. The deadly weapons seemed to have all been discovered and neutralized now. Jocelyn reckoned that meant something. But it was still a long way from what she wanted to do. Then the Birdies had presented her with the opportunity that she needed. Jocelyn put the report down as Minford, a tall plain looking man who said little entered her office along with Commander Anjin. Stiles knew that some of the Tellarites and Andorians had taken to wearing the Star Fleet jerseys and black uniform slacks rather than the uniforms of their respective planetary nations. But it still caused Stiles to do a double take when she saw it. Stiles did one of those double takes at the site of Anjin. She beckoned the officers to sit down after returning their salutes.

"Do you want to send a Minotaur out to nail that drone, sir?" Minford asked coming to the point at once.

"No Ed," Stiles replied at once. Jocelyn liked the look of confusion that shown on the captain's face. She continued. "Look our people are running subspace sensors on that thing. We know the ones they found around Sol and Tellar self-destructed upon approach of a ship. We also know that they are reading the electromagnetic spectrum. One of the engineers on the Marathon also scanned a periodic radar pulse. It is quick and at random intervals which is why it wasn't detected before." Stiles continued warming to her point.

"I want them to see us Ed, Anjin. In fact I want them to see exactly what we show them." Stiles lips curled up in a wicked looking grin. The officers both smiled as well. Jocelyn leaned back and continued. "I know that we are here to protect Wolf and we will do that. But I'm not going to sit back and let those bastards do as they please." Jocelyn paused dramatically. "I want to go after them."

"What is your plan commodore?" the Andorian asked.

"The freighters are being escorted back to earth by Powhatons," Stiles answered. "I wonder what the Birdies would think if several of our ships were seen leaving to escort freighters?"

"You mean to lure them back?" Captain Minford asked. "How do you know that they are even out there?"

"They wanted to operate out of Deneva unobserved again," Stiles explained. "We still have no idea of how many ships they have. But it is a sure thing that this has turned into a knockdown dragout." The commodore looked at the other officers. "You've both read the intell. It looks like the Birdies were trying to finish us in January. Right now they are poised to strike out at Andor and Tellar. If they take Wolf then they are on earth's doorstep. And that makes it harder to counterattack. We would be looking at knocking them off of three of our worlds."

"That gives them another base from which to attack either Andor or Tellar," Anjin said. "That would likely mean that the Imperial Guard would pull ships away from the alliance fleet to patrol Andor."

"The same is probably true for Tellar," Minford said.

"It's probably safe to assume that Topaz is the first staging area," Stiles said; "With Kamaga gone they can make their way to Deneva and build up there. If they had Wolf then that would be a third axis of attack against the alliance worlds."

"What is your plan sir?" Minford asked.

"Once the freighters are ready we send the Beagle, Seawolf, Choctaw, Ventizen and the Cyane out as escorts." Stiles emphasized the word escort. "The Marathon, Choctaw, Aktiba and Hazmq will stay on station here. Hopefully the Birdies don't know that the Potemkin and Harry Truman are on the way here." Stiles was referring to two of the Stellar Navy's newest carriers. "We link up with them before they get here." Stiles got out a holographic photograph of Wolf and the nearby space. "We arc around at the edge of sensor range; to a point along a likely approach vector. We hold position there and wait. If and when the Birds come along we let them pass. Our forces here will go out to meet them."

"And they will be between us and our defenders," Anjin said completing Stiles' explanation. The commander's antennae twitched excitedly.

"If they send an overwhelming force it is all over for us," Captain Minford declared morosely.

"Then either way it is over for us," Jocelyn shot back. "If they have a large force to throw against us we can make a run and stand here. The only advantage we have here are the Hercules platforms. We've already seen the Birdies concentrate their plasma cannons against those." Stiles got up and folded her arms over her chest. "The Birdies have just been in three major battles with us. They got lucky against Kamaga. One thing that seems true about them is that they don't seem to get our psychology. I'm betting they still don't it. If we appear to pull out of here that would be consistent with what they think we would do because it has been what they have been trying to make us do." Minford looked unconvinced.

"Look Ed," Stiles said. It was plain that she still felt uncomfortable using older officers' first names. "The first thing they do is a sneak attack then they send us a message and say: Now we want peace; we got what we came for it is over. So the next thing they do when the president put up a fight was to go right after earth as if to say: Okay you need some more convincin'. We beat them there so now I'm thinking that they will try a more traditional approach keeping in mind that they must see us as weak. One way or another I think Wolf is next. I want to give them what they want; cause them to maybe rush things."

"Okay commodore," Minford said at last. "I have to admit that I've been chomping at the bit myself to get a shot at these bastards. But the way things are moving now we won't be in place for this until mid June."

"I know that too," Stiles said. "But get things moving Ed. I'll speak to the rest of the captains tomorrow."

Andorian and human both rose and saluted. Both officers turned and left Stiles' cramped office. Stiles started to sit back down but started pacing instead. Minford was right. There were a lot of ifs involved in Jocelyn's plan. But she was aware that they couldn't afford to sit back and wait. Things were improving for earth and the Stellar Navy but they were far from perfect.

The Tannhausers were coming into service. So were many new carriers. Stiles had read a classified report about two new classes to be introduced sometime next year. But know one knew what the Romulan capabilities were. Stiles had read a classified report from a converted Q ship mentioning sighting a large force. The unknowns' position was almost the same as that where Taskforce 25 had staged their attack from SN1572. Stiles knew that in short order they needed to defeat the Birdies in this region of space then turn to their empire. The war was over a year old now Stiles thought and still things hung by a thread.

UES Daedelus, outbound from 61 Virginis, May 2157

Cromwell knew that the scientists were still sifting through the data. The unknown ships had made for the planet. Cromwell had departed before the ships got anywhere close to radar range. The commander of the Daedelus had an unpleasant thought in the form of Birdies coming up with their own version of subspace sensors. So far nothing had indicated that the alliance's foe had those advanced systems. It had been one of the things that had helped the Stellar Navy hold on this long. Michael shuddered to think of where things would be without subspace sensors.

Cromwell made his way from his ship's shuttle bay along the interconnecting tube to the command section. Michael would've taken the turbo-tube but Cromwell liked to walk the corridors of his ship. So apparently did a lot of other crewmembers. Michael greeted several people making their way back to the engineering hull. The captain also wanted to delay his next appointment; yet another examination of his prosthesis by Dr. Schultheiss. Cromwell had almost forgotten about his mechanical addition.

At least he could steer the conversation into more productive areas. Schultheiss and her team had completed the last autopsy on the remains that they had brought back to the Daedelus with them. The only for certain was that the fellow had been a high ranking Vulcan. No medical expertise had been needed to translate the Vulcan's rank markings from his desiccated cloak. But Cromwell and his team was still faced with a mystery.

Cromwell climbed a ladder between decks as he thought of the mummified body they had discovered in the remains of the ship. The Vulcan's body, sealed inside the lander had survived the ravages of the dreary planet's weather. The self-destruct commands had been traced back to the control panel that the Vulcan was seated at. Cromwell wondered rather the individual had been a captain, mission commander or had fulfilled both roles? Michael thought of carrying out a self-destruct. Of course that was a scenario that every naval officer might have to experience Cromwell knew. What sort of dreadful pass had the man come to that caused him to do that Cromwell wondered?

"Good day doctor," Cromwell said as the sickbay door slid open and he entered the doctor's working area. Schultheiss greeted him in a business-like manner. She asked the only other person in the room, an Andorian physician if he could leave the two of them alone. The alien made his way into an adjoining lab.

"Okay off with the shirt sir," Schultheiss said. "I promise that I will finish the exam quickly."

Cromwell hesitantly peeled off his jersey and t-shirt while speaking to Schultheiss: "Have you found out anything else since the briefing. Ouch!" The captain exclaimed as the physician stabbed him quickly with a syringe.

"We have finished with the body from the ship," Schultheiss answered as she took the contents of the syringe and injected it into a scanning device near the biobed. "I can find no apparent cause for his death. There is no evidence of violence or trauma. We are doing screens for diseases and such but right now that appears to be unlikely. Unfortunately neither I nor anyone else on my staff is up on Vulcan physiology."

"What about the remains outside of the ship?" Cromwell asked. Schultheiss put a small probe against Michael's shoulder where his cybernetic arm was connected causing the artificial fingers of that hand to jerk spasmodically. "Do you have to do that Trudy? I mean I have had therapy and can move my fingers just fine!"

"I have to check for neurological damage sir," Schultheiss explained. "You know that—and anyway it is just for another month. Rejection is usually discounted after this long. Although when you go for microfusion treatment you will," Schultheiss saw Cromwell's warning look. "Yah, okay if you go for microfusion you will have to repeat the examinations."

"As you surmised sir," the medical officer continued in answer to Cromwell's first question. "The Vulcans outside were all killed by laser fire. It appears to be from behind for the most part. I am no forensics expert but it is almost like they were ambushed one-by-one." Schultheiss looked at Cromwell then continued excitedly. "There is something very interesting about the first remains you discovered."

Michael looked at the woman expectantly and winced as she probed another location along his shoulder. "I believe that you like doing this!" Michael exclaimed with a weak smile.

"Actually I don't like hurting anyone," Schultheiss said. "But you still need some degree of neural contact on your pros—arm." The doctor looked directly into Michael's eyes. "I know that you are uncomfortable. But you should not be. The flesh has knitted to the new arm and with cosmetic surgery one would not even be aware that your arm was not--,"

"You mentioned something about our dead Vulcan friend," Cromwell said brusquely.

Schultheiss looked at Cromwell again then continued. "There are anomalies in his DNA." When she saw Cromwell's expectant look she continued. "I'm not sure what to make of him. Of course humans can have anomalous DNA and we are still conducting lab work on the remains."

"He, she, it is Vulcan?" the captain asked sharply.

"Yah," the doctor answered. "Probably; I know that isn't a good response. The Vulcans have shared their physiological database with us but not a whole lot more. For instance what diseases are they subject too? Do they have any inherited genetic problems such as retardation?"

"So what are you saying?" Cromwell asked. She was probing his shoulder with her bare hand now which was quite warm.

"Besides genetic abnormalities his bones raise questions," the doctor answered. "He may have had a form of osteoporosis. His skeletal composition is not as sturdy as a normal Vulcan's."

"Anything else besides disease that accounts for that?" the captain asked.

Schultheiss started shaking her head then stopped suddenly. "It has been observed in humans spending prolonged periods in zero gravity." The tall woman smiled. "Sorry I just remembered something that I had read about space medicine from the early twenty-first century." She rubbed his shoulder then said: "You may dress sir. I see nothing wrong. We will scan the blood and tissue samples I took for more in depth analysis but it is unlikely that there is anything wrong."

Cromwell set about dressing as Schultheiss explained that she would continue searching for more information.

"Is there anymore information from any of the other departments?" Schultheiss asked conversationally.

"Miss Picard and Lieutenant Dieulafoy found one notation in all the data that was readable and useful," Cromwell answered. "The Vulcans were studying the remains of a civilization called Debrune. That is all that our experts have figured out."

"Speaking of the Picard woman," the doctor said. "I have not spoken to her yet. Do you think that there are problems between her and Lieutenant Crosby?"

Cromwell sighed and answered by relating to the doctor what he had seen in the lab earlier that day.

"I should have explained further," the captain said. "But with everything going on at the time that fell behind. I'm sorry Trudy. I know you have degrees in psychiatry. I never thought I would live to see the day when a starship needed a counselor of sorts but I am after all just a fossil." Cromwell smiled broadly as he added this last.

"Abuse is rare these days," Schultheiss said calmly. "But it still exists. It was never my specialty but from what I do know the challenge will be getting Miss Picard to admit her situation. The abuser exerts a control both subtle and compelling on the person being abused. She has never raised any suspicions with me while we roomed together. I thought that she was avoiding Crosby but I put it down to a certain prudishness. This ship is rather small to carry on a torrid love affair in." The doctor smiled and chuckled.

"Astounding that a man—that anyone would do that to another person," Cromwell said quietly. "And even more so that someone as," Cromwell paused. He could feel his face flush in embarrassment. "As intelligent as Miss Picard would subject herself to that."

Schultheiss gave Cromwell a knowing look. She smiled. "Are you attracted to her?"

"No of course not," Cromwell snapped back quickly.

"Don't be afraid to admit it," the doctor said. She smiled tenderly. "A man spending this long in the service coming close to retirement seeing a beautiful girl--,"

"That sounds terribly pathetic and it is not me at all," Cromwell interrupted hastily. "I am not concerned about those things—especially now."

"Because you have a prosthetic arm?" the doctor asked. "It is natural for a healthy male to be attracted to a female; especially one as pretty as Mariel." Schultheiss turned away abruptly to examine some figures on a clipboard. "But regardless of that do not limit yourself sir. You are a handsome man. Many women would find you desirable."

"Continue with your research on the Vulcans doctor," Cromwell said clumsily. He disliked the way the conversation had turned.

"Of course sir," Schultheiss answered. "I will compile what we find for your morning reports. If we find anything truly noteworthy I shall notify you immediately."

Michael thanked the doctor for her work and made his way to the bridge. It was almost ship's night and he wanted to make a final check with Lisa before turning in. The captain wondered for a moment: The lighting in sickbay must be bad. He could've sworn that Trudy had been slightly flushed. Perhaps the woman was overworking herself he thought.

San Francisco, Earth, Jun 2157

"Good day admirals," United Earth President Christophur Thorpe said. The president put a special emphasis on the word admirals as his gaze fell on Erica Soames. The intelligence officer had been recently promoted.

The two Star Fleet officers came to attention and saluted Thorpe sharply. He shook both of their hands and made some small talk with them as he told them to be seated. The smell of sea air came wafting in the open window of the office of the United Earth president. The melancholy sounds of seagulls came through the open window as well. It was a warm, sunny California day. No one would have suspected that many light years away war raged.

"I know that you just got in Admiral Forrest," Thorpe began. "But I want to catch up on where we are. I've turned the San Francisco yards over to Boeing-Teledyne and Utopia Planitia is working at full capacity to provide you with more ships. I am afraid that I can't do anything for you in regards to manpower. People are just not like drones to be turned out." The president chuckled.

"You've read the reports sir," Forrest said. The admiral had a grim expression on his face. He continued, "of course we never expected to win this war quickly. But the loss of Kamaga was a damning blow. I can't sugar-coat it. The Birdies will probably ramp up their forces there now that we are pretty much restricted to flyby observations." Forrest turned his attention to the other naval officer in the room. "I'd like to thank you for all of your work. I know your people have been making guesses based on little information but without your work I don't like to think where we would be in this war. You certainly deserve that extra stripe."

Soames accepted the compliments graciously then said: "I wish that we could do more. We should have seen that they would've tried to do something like they did. I don't suspect that would have helped much as we just don't have a lot of hard intelligence on them. One good thing is the warp capable spy drones. It has been so long since man has been involved in warfare. I find that we are dusting off things from the last century."

"Daedelus should return in three more months," Thorpe said quietly. The president saw the look of surprise on Soames face. "I suppose it is okay to let our military chief of staff in on our little secret." Thorpe said with a grin. The president then told Admiral Forrest about the X program and its results.

"We could use a few more of those ships in the fight," Forrest said after he had time to digest the president's information.

"From what Mr. Brack says the construction methodology used in the X is too exotic to adapt to high capacity output," the president replied. "He has told me that we can expect to field Daedelus class cruisers in bulk by 2160 or so. In the meantime we can expect the Conqueror class by 2159."

"That is still two years away sir," Forrest said quietly. "We can still lose this war in the next few months."

Thorpe passed two folders over to the officers. The president told them to scan the contents and give him a quick appraisal. When it looked like the naval officers were almost finished Thorpe spoke up:

"It really is your fault Erica for telling me about Admiral Buchanan."

"That is a long way to what we only think is a Birdie base," Forrest answered.

"But we would be in their back yard." Soames declared. "I don't think three squadrons could do a lot of overall damage--,"

"But it would make the Romulans think and turn the offensive back over to us," Forrest interjected. The admiral looked at the cover of the folder again: "Operation Mandrake; I like it. Frankly I wish that we could throw some cruisers in the mix as well but we need what we have to hold on here."

"I understand that," Thorpe replied. "The industrial machinery is working as well as it can now. I can't lie though the loss of Kamaga upset the morale here." Forrest looked pained. Thorpe quickly added: "I'm not castigating you because of that admiral. I know that we may see worse in terms of losses before this war is over. It is just that I have to play my other role as politician." Thorpe looked as if he had accidentally swallowed something unpleasant when he said that.

"Taskforce 25 is out there," Forrest said. "I want to get back out there as well sir." Forrest took a deep breath before continuing. "I know that Taskforce 31 is almost ready for launch. Commodore Leonard is a good man." Forrest hesitated.

"But you would like to lead out his taskforce while yours undergoes upgrades?" Thorpe asked pointedly. "I've had to deliver worse news lately admiral so I'll approve that." The president paused a moment. "Speaking of good men how is Commodore Stiles?"

"That was a lot of weight to put on someone that young sir," Forrest replied. "But she has done well out there. She thinks that the Romulans may make a move for Wolf 359. I'm inclined to agree."

"That is the intelligence assessment as well," Admiral Soames interjected; "if the Birdies have a psychology and tactical perspective anything like ours. At least taking out our observation post in Tellarite space seems to point to that. They must've realized that we would defend Tellar first."

"Is there anything we can do to beef up the defenses out there?" Thorpe asked in a tone indicating that he already knew the answer.

"Not that and assume any kind of offensive posture," Forrest replied. "Our only hope is the schedule of taskforce redeployments. We hope to have extra force coverage by overlapping deployments and redeployments. But there will be times when she is on her own out there."

"I think she has what it takes," Thorpe answered. "I've always been fortunate in the people I've selected to assist me in my endeavors. So far that has carried over into politics. We will see if it carries over into war."

Thorpe thanked his officers for the briefing. Both naval officers got up and saluted. The president returned their salutes. Forrest and Soames turned to leave with Forrest in the lead. Soames hung back when Thorpe noticed her again.

"You have other questions Erica?" The president asked.

"Nothing about the military sir," the woman was clearly uncomfortable with her subject. "Or perhaps it has everything to do with the military." At Thorpe's expectant look the intelligence officer explained:

"I'm not trying to tell you your business sir. But it is these Sons' of Terra. I know you will win reelection. It is just that our people out in space hear that the war is all because of our expansion and alien politics. I'm sure Admiral Forrest would've agreed with me. I just wish you would say more. I know the people are smart enough to smell a rat. But the old maxim about repeating a lie enough times comes to mind."

"I've always thought the best of people," Thorpe replied. "I suppose an almost century old lull caused us to grow soft though. I don't want to resort to getting down to those people's level." The president got up and went to the open window. "No Erica, people have to determine things for themselves. I know things are dark now and that is where people in the Sons' of Terra like to hide—in the darkness. Once their ideas are exposed to the light of day people usually abandon their cause."

"They can still cause great harm sir," the intelligence officer replied. "I've read the diplomatic dispatches. Our allies can interpret your inaction with these people as a sign of weakness."

Thorpe breathed a deep draught of the clean sea air then turned back to the admiral. "I'm forced to agree there. Hopefully my reelection will lay their fears to rest."

Admiral Soames smiled at Thorpe. "Very good sir," she said simply. When Thorpe asked her if that was all, the intelligence officer nodded and saluted once again. Thorpe turned back to San Francisco Bay as Erica Soames left his office.

Taskforce 25, near Topaz, Jun 2157

The Fearless cruised through subspace in the company of her sister cruiser the Pioneer along with the destroyers Wolverton and Charleston. The new Torsk class ships Navaga and Stingray accompanied the small taskforce. Completing the mix was the new Tannhauser class cruiser Badr. The ships flew past the star streaks of warped space as they proceeded along their way.

Commodore Pierre Oulette reviewed the fuel figures that Lt. Cmdr. Jeffrey Sutton had just handed him. It amazed the French-Canadian to no end how far they had come and they still had over fifty percent of their deuterium reserve. Oulette recalled making the same cruise with fusion power only. The Fearless would have needed to tank up three times to make it this far. The commodore perused the report then signed it and returned it to his operations officer.

"Chief Traz," Oulette called to the Andorian operating the Fearless' sensors. "How is our bait doing?"

"Still on course at warp 1.9," the chief replied.

"Grand," Oulette replied.

Pierre was growing a little tired of the fishing expedition. The taskforce had been at it for over three days now. The converted Bison class Jade Queen was the bait to which Oulette had referred. The little Q ship after some minor yard work now had much the same subspace radar signature as that of a Tellarite freighter. It was there for the apparent taking of the Birdies Grizzly thought. But the Romulans had been silent since their successful attack on Kamaga.

That worried Oulette. The commodore thought of all the possible clichés like; 'the calm before the storm'. But the simple fact in terms of military affairs was that the lull in enemy activity probably signaled the beginning of a new offensive. Then again Oulette had to remind himself that no one knew anything about Romulans. Maybe they were seasonal creatures who needed to hibernate, Pierre thought. Or perhaps they had some strange alien ethos that had been satisfied after the last attack. So far the largest piece of Birdie wreckage recovered had been no more than twenty meters square. The only thing that could be made of it was that Birdie metallurgy was similar to that of humans and their alien allies. No Romulans living or dead had yet been observed.

"Captain Townsend is reporting unknowns just entering subspace sensor range," Chief Brandt reported from communications. "He is sending us a data link."

"Put it on the viewer chief," Oulette ordered. The commodore rubbed his thumb over the ship's PA switch. Maybe now was a good time to summon Talas to the bridge. But no, Oulette thought, he would wait until he had more details.

The bridge viewscreen resolved to show an image of eleven unknown vessels. Graphs beneath each vessel showed speed, course and heading as well as a relative power output. The new upgrades were indeed better than the old sensors.

"Those power readings are the same we've seen in other Romulan ships." Lieutenant David Guerrero said from the helm position. "Standing by to increase speed," Guerrero said.

"Wait a few more minutes David," Oulette said patiently then ordered the Fearless to general quarters. Pierre watched as the distance between the unknowns and the Jade Queen decreased. The Queen started turning away. The commodore thought that Townsend was making a fine show of things. The bridge hatch trundled open to admit Commander Talas.

"We have sighted the enemy," the Andorian said. It was obvious that she was relishing the thought of a fight. Unlike so many of the other Andorians and a few of the Tellarites Talas had elected to continue wearing the form fitting Imperial Guard uniform. Oulette nodded.

"Helm prepare to take us to warp 3 on an intercept course with those bogeys," Oulette ordered. The commodore turned his attention to his first officer. "Please notify the other ships of the taskforce of our plans Talas."

"Eleven-to-one," the Andorian first officer remarked after making the necessary calls to the other ships of the taskforce. "At least our ships have an advantage over theirs even with their plasma cannons."

"That also means that they have this many ships to harass convoys and single freighters," the commodore said. "Of course one hopes it is caution on their part as well." Oulette was aware of the spy drones that had been found near alliance worlds. How much did the Birdies know of man and his alien friends wondered? And how little the alliance knew of the Romulans. Oulette sighed.

"Is all well sir?" Talas asked.

"Oui," Oulette replied. "I was just thinking that we cannot even put a face to our opponents."

"We can put missiles and lasers to them though," Talas declared emphatically.

"Let us be to it then," Oulette said.

The space just outside of the Topaz system, Jun 2157

The small fleet accelerated. Ahead of them the Q ship dropped out of warp. Explosive bolts silently went off along several points along the length of the converted Bison's hull. Metal plating was blown away revealing among other things twin laser turrets and the snout of a rail gun. Two openings along the Bison's keel were revealed showing the tubes for anti-ship missiles. Thousand of kilometers from the Jade Queen several flashes could be seen as the little ship's potential attackers emerged into normal space.

Six of the three-nacelle Sabinus class cruisers were escorted by five Veronus class ships. The little freighter was invisible over the thousand of kilometers as the green jellyfish looking craft closed on their intended prey. The ships were soon at their weapons range when the little freighter discharged two deadly missiles. The high speed darts streaked away leaving a brief flare of chemical thrust. Smaller Spider area defense missiles followed their bigger and slower Narwhal cousins. Romulan plasma cannons discharged into the missiles' flight path cancelling out the cannon fire as well as the Queen's missile fire. More streaks filled space as the Jade Queen fired a second round. This time it was accompanied by the lightened traces of rail gun fire. One Narwhal avoided plasma cannon fire and made a close approach to a Sabinus before being shredded short of its target by a pattern of neutronium pellets.

The green ships closed the distance to the besieged freighter. More ships stretched with a flash into normal space behind the Bison class freighter. These ships added more missiles to the emptiness of space. The newly arrived Taskforce 25 ships intercepted more plasma cannon fire. The Jade Queen fired one more combination of Narwhals and Spiders before escaping away into subspace. This time one of the Queen's Narwhals made it past the Romulan missile defense pellets and turned a Chowder class cruiser into an expanding ball of molten wreckage.

Missile fire from the Star Fleet taskforce scored two more hits adding another Veronus and a Sabinus to the list of destroyed Romulan ships. Several of the spherical Romulan fighter craft were in the process of launching out of a Cabbage when a Narwhal inbound for another Romulan cruiser struck an Eightball sending the fighter craft reeling back into its launch bay where it exploded. A series of small explosions started going off in the bay growing in intensity until in a final blast the entire cruiser detonated.

Four of the Romulan craft turned about presenting their nacelles to the attacking alliance taskforce. They leapt away into subspace. The three remaining Romulan ships, two Chowders and a Cabbage fired their plasma cannons. Two of the beams of deadly super-heated material were intercepted by Spider area defense missiles. One beam made it through to hit the unlucky Charleston. The Star Fleet ship spun away as static discharges went off along the portion of the destroyer's hull that had been hit. More missiles were exchanged between the Romulans and their adversaries. Spider area defense missiles and point defense lasers destroyed incoming Romulan missiles. The three Romulan ships were soon reduced to radioactive debris as their defenses were overwhelmed by Star Fleet missiles.

Taskforce 25, UES Fearless, Jun 2157

"Number of inbounds is thirty-three ships," Chief Traz exclaimed as his antennae stood up. "Warp 2.8 on an intercept course out of Topaz. I'd say from the power signatures that they are a mix of Chowders and Cabbages—estimated time of arrival is nine minutes."

"Status of the Charleston?" Oulette asked anxiously.

Talas cocked her head as she listened in her earpiece. Finally she replied: "Captain Toranaga is dead along with most of the command crew. Their engineer has taken command. They have decompression on three decks. The power feeds from the mam reactor to the warp nacelles are damaged. They can't initiate a warp field."

The commodore uttered a curse in French softly under his breath. Then he looked up and said: "Very well; tell their engineer to start an evacuation of all nonessential personnel. Weapons," the commodore called to his weapons officer Lt. Moran. The chestnut haired woman acknowledged him. "Prepare to lay down a pattern of missiles at their likely exit vectors." Oulette turned to Guerrero at the helm. "Tell me where that would put them? I know they will read our missiles."

"That would put them out of warp at a position well out of range," Guerrero replied. "It would buy us another six minutes."

"Okay Talas that gives their engineer a little extra time." The commodore stated. "But relay to him or her, the following: They are either ready to go to warp in ten minutes or they initiate self-destruct and get their butts to the shuttles. I want to target the Charleston as well as a backup measure. It wouldn't do for the Birdies to get any of our technology."

The time wound down. The bridge was silent except for the background noise of cooling fans and the persistent calls from the various departments confirming their readiness status. Oulette got up and went from duty station to duty station checking on the status of his people. Grizzly was worried. He was cutting it close but the taskforce commander knew how precious ships were despite the new yard over Mars. The silence was broken at the eight minute point by Lieutenant Sylvia Moran.

"Firing and away," the gunnery officer reporter as the Fearless along with the other ships of the taskforce fired their covering barrage of anti-ship missiles.

Just short of the nine minute point the viewer showed the pinpoints of the faraway detonations of the taskforce's missiles. The explosions went on for almost thirty seconds as the gunnery officers had calculated a pattern designed to bring the Romulans out of warp. The plan worked.

"Romulan vessels transiting to normal space," Chief Traz announced. "They are accelerating to full impulse. That will put us in range of their plasma cannons in five minutes."

"The shuttles from the Charleston are all safely aboard other ships now sir," the first officer reported.

"Tell their engineer that his time is up!" Oulette exclaimed. The commodore was well aware of the time it would take for the remainder of the Charleston's crew to make it to a shuttle bay, launch then be recovered by another ship. "I know they want to repair their ship but it is--,"

"Sir the Charleston is ready to go to warp!" Talas exclaimed.

"Then let us leave this place number one," Oulette said with a smile. "Sylvia please make sure we lay down covering fire. We do not want any uninvited company from the Birds!" The commodore said to his gunnery officer.

Taskforce 25, UES Fearless in subspace several hours after the battle, Jun 2157

Sutton ducked a quickly aimed jab. The operations officer swept his leg out in an attempt to knock his opponent to the ground. It failed; instead his sparring partner nailed the Fearless' third officer in an embarrassing spot on his rear. Sutton stumbled forward then caught his balance and turned back to the attack. Jeff was just in time to deflect a gloved fist aimed for his jaw. He caught his opponent's arm and the two of them wrestled until they ended up falling onto the exercise mat. For once Sutton had the advantage. The officer pinned his sparring partner when beneath him.

"There!" he cried triumphantly. "I finally got the best of you!"

Jeff was ready to gloat when Talas sprang up and kissed him. Sutton was so surprised that he barely noticed her moving beneath him until he went reeling over onto his back. Now the Fearless' first officer was in the superior position.

"You did that on purpose!" Sutton exclaimed. Talas smiled at him and was about to reply when they heard the sound of a third person in the gym. They had been alone until the new arrival. Both officers looked up as Grizzly Oulette cleared his throat.

"Sorry to interrupt your," the commodore paused; "your exercise, but there is a problem with the Charleston."

Talas sprang lithely to her feet. Her skin stayed the same shade of blue leading Sutton to believe that either her people didn't blush or she didn't care. Sutton was certainly blushing now as he climbed to his feet.

"What is it sir?" Talas asked directly.

Oulette explained that the ship though it needed some more repairs was still spaceworthy. The problem was with the surviving crew. The command staff was gone. Sutton wondered if there was a problem with the Charleston's engineer. The operations officer knew that many engineers were enlisted. That didn't make them less able it is just that a lot of them never aspired to command anything more than their engineering department. Sutton mentally scratched his head trying to recall who was on the Charleston. Like any other person who had spent a decade or more with earth's Stellar Navy Sutton usually knew someone who knew someone else aboard a ship. In this case the lieutenant commander could not put a name to the Charleston's engineer.

"Is the engineer not up to the task?" Talas asked reflecting what was on Sutton's mind.

"He is a Tellarite," Oulette replied. The commodore sighed. "I have read through the terms of the alliance. Alien forces," Oulette looked at Talas, "Sorry commander," when she nodded in a human fashion he continued. "Alien forces are fully integrated with our own. But this is the first case of one of our allies taking command of a Stellar Navy craft. I have reviewed Goval's record. By all accounts he is a fine officer as up to the task of command as one could be given the circumstances."

"Will the navy buy off on that sir?" Sutton asked pointedly.

"That is what I am wondering," Oulette replied. "I want to give him command but I do not want to be reversed at a higher level that would look bad. It would also affect our relations with the aliens." The commodore started to turn a shade of pink as he looked at Sutton and Talas. "I mean association not that anyone is having relations." Oulette stammered. "I mean—merde!" Oulette took a breath and continued. "I have made my decision."

"Are you putting this Goval in command?" Talas asked.

Oulette nodded; at that Sutton spoke up. "That is putting a lot on the line sir."

"We shall see," the commodore replied. "Manpower is abysmally short these days. If BuPer reverses me they had better be prepared to pull an experienced human captain out of their," Oulette paused for several seconds; "out of their files to give to me."

"I will leave you two to your," Oulette hesitated; "exercise. If you have any further inputs on this let me know," the commodore turned and left the human and Andorian alone again.

"I have had no problems being in command of your people before," Talas said. "But it is true that there was a human officer backing me up."

"Think about the reverse situation," Sutton said. "How would the crew of an Imperial Guard ship feel under the command of a human captain?"

"There would be problems," Talas said reluctantly. "We have come to know one another but not nearly enough it seems." The alien woman got closer to Sutton. "Alternatively you and I could change that."

Jeff started turning colors again which caused Talas to remark: "You know that when you do that you really live up to the name Pink-skin?"

Taskforce 18, UES Beagle, near the Wolf system, Jun 2157

"Nothing for days now," Jocelyn Stiles said bitterly. "I thought that the Birdies would take the bait."

"We have scanned them on the edge of our range." Anjin said.

The bridge of the Beagle was a busy place as the small taskforce sat alone in the depths of space. Wolf was a bright star among many others now. They had been in holding at their present location for almost a week now. What the Andorian had said was true. The Birdies were on the move but exactly where they were on the move too was a mystery. It might well be routine Romulan patrols around Deneva. One thing Stiles had gotten from the coded dispatches was that the Birdies were busy patrolling around Deneva. It was obvious that they wanted to hold on to the world.

"Sir we are getting a coded message from the Minotaur patrol," Ensign Cruz said. The Tellarite had been assigned as the head of communications for the Beagle. Stiles asked what the message was. "They say that they are picking up a large volume of activity. They are scanning fifty-four ships holding a relative position near one of the approach vectors you guessed they would come along."

"This could be it," Captain Ed Minford said.

"Cruz, send a message back to Wolf to tell our people there to get ready," Stiles said. Then she added quickly: "And make sure that they don't execute until they get the final order!"

Stiles gripped the arms of the command chair tightly. The alliance forces had managed to leave a Narwhal anti-ship missile near to the Romulan spy drone. The commodore hoped that the Birdies had not detected that. So far emissions from the drone were like clockwork. Rather that meant the missile was undetected or if the Romulans were now themselves laying a trap remained to be seen. If all went as planned the Birdies would make an approach. Once they crossed a point of no return between where they could not possibly get a transmission from their drone in time the Narwhal would take out the spy drone. Then the remainder of Taskforce 18 would make for Stiles' position.

It was a terrible gamble Jocelyn realized. If she was wrong then Wolf would lay defenseless save for its ring of Hercules missile platforms and two fighter squadrons. But she had poured over every detail of previous engagements between the Birdies and Star Fleet with a ferocity brought about by her hatred for them. Stiles recalled reading about people called profilers. She remembered how they had helped law enforcement people track down criminals by almost getting into the mind of the criminal. Stiles felt that she was in the mind of the Birdies enough to guess their moves. Somehow she felt that whatever they were they were arrogant—or some alien approximation thereof.

"I've sent the message sir," Cruz replied. The Tellarite cocked his head as he listened into his earpiece, made especially for his species. "The patrol is reporting that the Birdies are on the move. They are sending us telemetry."

Jocelyn told the Tellarite to display the sensor readings from the patrolling fighter craft. The view screen changed from a view of stars against the blackness of space to one of a gray background. A large mass of blips was visible between two diverging lines showing the corridor that Stiles had guessed they would come in along. The blips were moving on a heading between the lines toward Wolf 359. The Minotaur pilot or his copilot was doing a thorough job of highlighting each unknown to read its individual power signature. The readings were an exact match for Romulan vessels.

"Tell the fighter CAP to move away discreetly," Stiles told Capt. Ed Minford. "Flash the Truman and the Potemkin and tell them to take up position. I think it is time to call our people at Wolf too."

Stiles watched the screen as the glowing blue spot with the carriers' numbers under each glowing indicator took up positions well outside of what was considered to be Romulan radar range. The subspace sensor display was badly focused in some areas. But that was to be expected outside of Wolf 359. Hell's Gate, Jocelyn thought grimly.

Stiles wondered who had attached such a sinister name to the cloud of dust, hydrogen and ionized particles. Viewed from Terra Nova at night the cloud was indeed a glowing red color. Much like earth's northern lights Hell's Gate was an awe inspiring but distant sight best viewed away from the brightly lit colonial towns that had sprang up on Nova. Another feature of the debris cloud was that sensor readings were difficult to obtain in and near the cloud. Subspace radar was similarly obscured and normal approach radars were useless. Jocelyn had factored the cloud into her plans.

When Stiles had captained the Air Force Academy's lacrosse team she had learned every centimeter of the playing field. She had coached her players to do the same so that when visiting teams came to compete they would be on unfamiliar footing. Stiles' team would not have that disadvantage. That had resulted in a sweep of home victories for her team. She hoped to do much the same thing here today; only today was not about a trophy. Today was about death and Stiles planned for many Romulans to die today.

"Distance to Hell's Gate?" Stiles asked Ensign Nandalal Bose. The Calcutta native looked into his hooded sensor display.

"Telemetry from the Minotaurs is fading sir," the ensign reported crisply. "We are starting to pick up the leading edge of their ships now. They are proceeding along at warp 1.8; estimated time until they contact Hell's Gate is eighteen minutes. They should clear the dust cloud four minutes after that if they maintain course and speed."

"What if they go around?" Stiles asked pointedly.

"That would add another ten minutes sir," Bose replied.

"You don't think they are going through?" Captain Ed Minford asked. Phrased as a question it was a statement.

"No Ed I don't," Stiles replied. At Minford's questioning look Stiles explained: "I think they will go around—it is what I would do if I were them. Ensign Cruz," the commodore turned to her Tellarite communications officer. "Tell the carriers to be ready to pull back a little further. Tell the carrier to arc around on whichever side they cross on or even better a z-plus or minus approach." Stiles looked thoughtful then added: "Tell them to launch their fighter squadrons."

"Helm take us to the following coordinates," Stiles told Chief Mary Vong then rattled off a series of coordinates.

Minford studied a tactical readout at an auxiliary station for a few moment before he asked: "You think they are coming over from that angle?"

"No," the commodore said. Stiles eyes were elsewhere as she looked at things in her mind. "They are splitting up captain. I can feel it."

"Sensor returns confirm that sir!" Ensign Bose exclaimed. The tall lanky Indian was clearly surprised.

"We'll lay down the pattern fire as we discussed," Stiles said. "That should give them a surprise. Their radar won't be any use till they round a point about here." Stiles shad left her seat to point out a position on the bridge viewscreen. "That will force them out of warp. Tell the Truman's fighters to launch on the other side of Hell's Gate and intercept them about here." Jocelyn pointed out another position which Chief Vong resolved into a set of coordinates.

"Ensign Cruz, status of our other forces from Wolf?" Stiles asked the Tellarite officer.

The ensign inputted signal commands into his console. There was relative silence for a few minutes then the Tellarite cocked his head as he listened to the reply over his earpiece.

"They have destroyed the drone and are sixteen minutes away." The Tellarite answered.

"Tell them to engage the Birdies on the left flank of the Gate ensign." Stiles said as she sat herself down in the captain's chair again.

"That is cutting it close," Minford said. "The Truman's squadron will have their hands full."

"Only for two minutes or so," Stiles answered. "The Birdies will get smacked on that side. By the time they are ready to launch fighters the rest of our people will be there."

"The Aktiba acknowledges," Cruz said at last. "The rest of the taskforce is ready."

Hell's Gate, near Wolf 359, Jun 2157

The glowing gases did not acknowledge the passing of the ships in subspace. The Romulan force made its way around the spectacular mass of illuminated gas and particles. Ahead of their position missile trails were visible. Needle-like Narwhal anti-ship missiles accelerated along their flight paths. Seconds after their passage globular white hot explosions silently went off illuminating the reddish gases of Hell's Gate even more. The explosions went of one after the other at irregular but steady intervals.

Seven Romulan ships lengthened into normal space. The only thing that marked them as Romulans were their characteristic green hulls, which were now reduced to shreds of molten metal. Three more cruisers followed. They could no longer be differentiated as Sabinus or Veronus cruisers since they were now wrecked hulks. The remaining seventeen cruisers burst forth into normal space with a flash. So did a flight of arriving Minotaurs from the Potemkin. Corsair missiles sprang from the launch tubes of the little fighters. Seconds after that, Stiles ships that had been waiting entered normal space. Narwhal anti-ship missiles filled the void between the two fleets.

The Corsairs impacted three Romulan Cabbages before they could bring lasers to bear. One of those rolled slowly through space as mounting internal explosions finally obliterated it. The other two wounded cruisers stayed in the fight until an incoming Narwhal finished off one of those. The Romulans were finally positioning themselves to fire plasma beams. The approaching alliance fleet filled space with area defense missiles as the Minotaurs paired off against individual Romulan cruisers. A Minotaur was cut in half from bow to stern by an invisible ray of laser energy. But not before it's carefully aimed Corsair hit its killer, severing one of the Chowders warp nacelles.

Across from that battle on the opposite end of the gas cloud Minotaurs from the Harry S. Truman picked off five cruisers with their opening shots. When the Romulans entered normal space they found the Minotaurs less than one thousand kilometers away from their ships in some cases. Corsairs leapt out from beneath the stubby garishly painted earth fighters destroying three more cruisers and crippling another one. The Romulans, without regard to their own safety, started firing at the stubborn little Minotaurs. Two of the little craft were destroyed but not before one of them hit by laser fire took a final suicidal run at a Romulan Sabinus class ship. The Sabinus was sent reeling by the combined explosion of the little fighter and its missiles. Seconds later it exploded into pieces. A Romulan Chowder lining up for a kill shot on a fighter was hit by missiles fired from a nearby Cabbage.

The Romulans were turning the tide here when the Tannhauser class Marathon emerged into normal space firing Narwhals. It was followed by the Choctaw and the alliance ships Aktiba and Hazmq. The Hazmq wasted no time in accelerating towards the Romulans. Merculite rockets left the bay of the Tellarite light cruiser consuming a Sabinus class cruiser in hundreds of tiny explosions. Romulan neutronium pellets filled space in what was becoming apparent as random shots. Narwhals and their Andorian equivalent streaked past the haphazardly strewn particles to take out four Romulan cruisers.

Andorian fighters entered the fray following another barrage of Merculite rockets and Narwhal missiles. Five more Romulan cruisers, three Veronus class and two Sabinus's were blasted into particle sized matter. The surviving trio of Minotaurs joined into a loose formation firing Corsairs into one cruiser after another. Augmented by their Andorian allies the fighters destroyed three more Romulan cruisers before turning about to make another pass.

Taskforce 18, UES Beagle, near Hell's Gate, Jun 2157

"They are turning away sir!" Ensign Bose exclaimed triumphantly.

Stiles watched as the twelve survivors separated. Four of those stayed behind. It was a familiar sight. The four would sacrifice themselves so that the remaining eight could escape. Across space just a few AU's away telemetry indicated that the other half of the Romulan strike force was trying to do the same thing.

"Not this time you bastards," Jocelyn said under her breath. The commodore spoke up: "Initiate phase two Ed."

The Beagle's bridge viewer displayed the Romulans now as green blurbs of information. Blue information markings started to appear in the unfocused region of Hell's Gate. Several high speed tracks left these new markings. Hercules missiles launched from platforms concealed in the dust cloud. One after the other the power readings associated with the retreating Romulan ships peaked and then vanished.

"Firing and away," Lieutenant Damon Rice announced as the Beagle along with the rest of the alliance ships on that end of Hell's Gate filled space with Narwhals.

"The last Birdie ships have been destroyed sir," Ensign Bose announced. The battle had lasted less than fifteen minutes but Bose sounded exhausted nonetheless.

"Very good ensign," Stiles said. She felt a burning sense of satisfaction deep within herself. She was not allowed to feel the emotion for too long before Captain Minford broke in:

"Shall I order the taskforce to make its way back to Wolf?" The captain asked.

Jocelyn sat back in her seat for a minute. The time seemed to drag on for so long that Minford looked like he was about to speak again when Stiles said: "No Ed." She took a deep breath before continuing. "Every time we've fought there is a lull between battles. Well not today. I want the surviving Minotaurs put aboard the Truman. That will bring their squadron back up to full strength. Have our ships rendezvous here. I want to take the Beagle, Hazmq, Marathon, Choctaw and the Truman on a little trip."

"It takes about six hours for the Tellarites to replace a rack of rockets." Stiles stated flatly. Minford nodded uncertainly. "That is more than enough time. We are going to Deneva; pay the Birdies a little visit."

Minford made a ferocious grin. "Let them guess when they are going to get hit for a change, eh?" He asked adding a cruel sounding chuckle.