STARBASE ONE
"Here Be Dragons"
Prologue
The bridge of the Starship Victory shook violently from another volley of enemy fire. Sparks shot out of the consoles, some of which were ablaze. Portions of the inner bulkheads had collapsed and what few of the crew remained on deck had a broad range of injuries between them.
Captain Zachary North coughed as he took in another lungful of smoke on his way from his command chair to the starboard tactical console, which was still relatively intact. The circular bridge of the upgraded Daedalus-class cruiser was small and he crossed it swiftly with his lanky frame.
He had seen the console surge during the last hit and his First Officer, Commander Cross, had taken it to the face.
"Get yourself to Sickbay!" he shouted to Cross over the wail of the Tactical Alert and the rumblings of strained EPS conduits.
Cross turned to him, her face scorched, her eyes desperate. "There's no point, sir!"
He knew she was right. Half the crew must be crowding Sickbay by now. The battle had gone badly for them.
The war with the mysterious Romulans had started badly for all Earth forces. Thanks to their alien allies, however, the tide had been turning in their favour. Then, for a variety of political and military reasons, their allies had pulled out, leaving humanity alone.
Reports of a build-up of Romulan vessels in the Cheron system had led Starfleet to assemble the largest fleet in its twenty-five-year history. Such a build-up so close to Sol could mean only one thing: Invasion. The outcome of this battle would decide the outcome of the war, and Earth's fate.
The Romulans, though taken by surprise, had given back as good as they had got. There had been major losses on both sides and the Victory had taken particularly heavy damage from a warbird that had run circles around them.
North nodded his acquiescence to Cross's stubbornness. "Status?" he asked.
"Phase cannons offline," Cross reported, "torpedo launchers fused, hull plating down to 22 percent polarisation." Her voice remained professional despite the words.
"Damn." He had never been an expressive man, but such a simple, quiet exclamation was all he could muster regardless.
He moved to the other side of the bridge where his comm officer sat.
"Is there anyone who can assist us?" North asked the officer, a new man whose name escaped him at the moment.
The young ensign pressed his earpiece tight against his head and turned to look at North wearily, almost apologetically. "N-no, sir. They're all engaged or…" He trailed off.
Destroyed, North knew that was the end of the sentence. They were on their own, crippled and drifting helplessly. In his mind, North saw the spherical forward hull of the Victory dipping towards Cheron, its cylindrical rear hull and nacelles pointing up behind it, like an old sailing vessel sinking into the sea. He humourlessly reflected on the cruel irony of his ship's name.
He walked slowly, helplessly back to the centre of the bridge, standing in front of his chair, and wiped the dark, thinning hair from his perspiring brow. No weapons, defenses failing, no one to help them. He couldn't even risk evacuating the ship, as the Romulans would destroy any escape pods. Although it was futile, he allowed himself hatred at their unseen enemy.
No Human, nor any of their allies, had ever laid eyes on a Romulan, but they were known to be as devious as they were ruthless. North now concentrated his rage on this phantom foe, cursing their xenophobic, expansionist empire, but he could not sustain it. Defeat had taken him completely.
He became aware that he was the centre of attention on the bridge. They looked to their captain for guidance, and he could not bring himself to tell them he had none to offer.
The defeat that had replaced his rage turned to guilt. Before the war, he had spent a good few years in a desk job at Starfleet Command. He had risen up the ranks there, becoming a captain, and, when the war had started and more ships were deployed, he was thrust back into space again as captains were in high demand.
He had seen combat several times in the four years of the war, but now he couldn't help wondering if a commander with more experience in the stars would have suffered the same fate he now faced.
He was almost thankful when the helmsman spoke up, breaking him from his inward scrutiny.
"Sir! The Romulan ship is coming about!"
Guilt gave way to dread now.
"On screen," he said softly.
Through the static on the main viewer before him, he saw the warbird that had brought them to their knees turn to face them again. Its flat, sickly-green hull had two upswept pylons connecting its nacelles, giving it the look of a predatory bird about to devour its prey as it hung over them. This image was solidified by the bright red avian painted on the ventral hull.
"They're charging weapons," Cross said from her station. There was no panic in her voice, only the same resignation that North felt.
North stared at the warbird swooping down on them. There was nothing left now. He closed his eyes and awaited the end.
Chapter 1
Almost one month later...
Ensigns Patricia Richards and Claude Lacroix had successfully completed their hike across the lush green fields of Berengaria VII, the planet on which they were stationed. It had taken the best part of the morning, but thankfully the days on this world were slightly longer than Earth's, and it had been worth it.
At least, Richards seemed to think so.
She took a deep breath of the cool air and stood perched on the edge of a cliff that overlooked the deep blue ocean. The distant twin red suns gave everything an orange glow, as if it was constantly sunset. The ambient temperature and gravity, both lower than Earth average, had made the hike a little easier as well, but you wouldn't know it from her companion's complaining.
"There you go," Lacroix sighed, stepping beside Richards and vaguely gesturing towards the sea. "You've seen it now. Hope it was worth it." He pulled a water bottle from a pouch on his belt and took a big swig.
Richards now turned to look at him with a smile. "It was. Despite your best efforts." She laughed and playfully struck his arm. "Don't you miss the ocean after being cooped up in starships for months?"
"When you joined Starfleet, did nobody tell you it involved a lot of time in space?" Lacroix returned her playful laughter.
Smiling, Richards turned back to face the sea again. "I miss being planetside. Used to volunteer for every landing party, even ones that didn't require an engineer."
Lacroix now shared her smile. Just before the Romulan War, Starfleet had been planning to establish a permanent outpost on the distant world of Berengaria VII. United Earth had several civilian colonies, of course, but Starbase 1 was intended to serve as a hub for the fleet - a second headquarters out in deep space - so that they need not be so dependent on their homeworld.
When construction on the base had begun, it had proven too attractive a target for the Romulans, who had laid waste to the site. Starfleet had eventually reclaimed it though, but with Earth's allies withdrawing from the war, the focus had been on defence rather than expansion, and reconstruction had been stalled. Now that the war had been won, however, it had finally been completed. More or less.
Although he wouldn't admit it to Richards, Lacroix was also glad of the ground-based assignment after so many space battles.
"I hate to be a, how you say, buzzkill," he said, "but we'll need to head back soon. We're not even supposed to be out so far until the official surveys are completed." He cast a look back over his shoulder to where the starbase was just a point on the horizon.
Richards giggled teasingly at him. "You're not a buzzkill, you're a jobsworth. C'mon, we're on Beta Shift, we have til the evening. Let's see if we can get down to that beach." She made her way towards where the cliff started to dip towards the shore.
"I was hoping for some time to relax before our shift," Lacroix said, throwing his arms out in exasperation. "You remember relaxation, no? Besides, it's a big day, the base commander is arriving, there are still systems to test and-"
"You can head back if you like," she called back to him, already some distance away, "but I'm going for a swim." She shot him a coy smirk.
Suddenly, Richards was making a lot of sense to Lacroix. He shrugged. "Maybe we can stay a little bit." He jogged up to her.
"Wait!" Richards abruptly stopped in her tracks and Lacroix did the same. "You hear that?"
"I can't hear anything."
"Sounds like something moving down on the beach."
Richards stepped closer to the cliff edge again and Lacroix chuckled.
"Oh, I get it," he said. "Trying to scare the new guy, yes? Hoping I'll leap into your arms?" He strolled over to her.
"I'm serious, Claude." She crawled onto her stomach so that her head looked over the edge, giving her a better view. She whipped her head around to look up at him and whispered, "I can see something in the shade."
Starting to get mildly nervous now, Lacroix joined her on the grass and looked down.
There was indeed a large shape, indistinct in the shadow, moving around almost 100 metres directly beneath them.
"Qu'est-ce…?" Lacroix muttered.
The dark mass below suddenly shifted and there were now two big yellow eyes staring up at them.
Before he could react, Richards was pulling Lacroix to his feet. A bellowing roar sounded from the beach.
"Run," Richards said to him, and they both darted back across the grass, towards the base.
As they ran with a surprising amount of haste, a shadow loomed over them both, blocking the suns at their back. Neither were willing to stop and observe what now pursued them.
The shadow came closer and closer and closer until there was no one running on the grass any longer.