Commander Ivan Zhukov kept a close eye on the evacuation as it unfolded hundreds of kilometers on the planet below. Hundreds – no, thousands – of dedicated Starfleet officers were working overtime, pushing themselves to the limit to get the job done before the lives of the civilian colonists were in danger. Additionally, he kept a close eye on the intelligence reports coming on, keeping him and the rest of the task force updated on the latest developments in the Klingon invasion of Cardassia.
It was apparent to even the most casual observer that things were not going well for the Cardassians. The Klingon invasion had caught the Cardies completely by surprise; worse, the Cardassian military was disorganized and poorly led in the wake of the revolution there. Most of Cardassia's best officers had been executed by the revolutionaries, and it showed. The Cardassian strategic map lacked any sense of cohesion or direction. Instead of a unified whole working to defend their home, the Cardassian units were individual starships reacting to whatever the Klingons threw against them. A student of military strategy, Zhukov knew that such a weakness would be fatal against the Klingons. Unless there was a serious improvement in the quality of the Cardassian leadership, or a distraction of some sort to divert the Klingons, Cardassia Prime itself would be in danger. The Klingons, bloodthirsty and savage opponents, would inflict devastating casualties on their Cardassian victims.
Although he knew better than to admit it, Zhukov didn't really care. The Cardassians had long been greedy, bombastic and hostile. They seemed to take special pleasure in constantly provoking their Federation neighbors. The long, bitter Cardassian war had been completely unnecessary, except for the fact that the Cardassians consistently refused to give up the fight. And their brutal occupation of Bajor – a peaceful and spiritual world if ever there was one – was a disgrace to any spacefaring civilization.
Now, Zhukov believed, the Cardassians were getting what they deserved. If it had been up to him, the Federation would not have stood with the Cardassians against the Klingons, even if the Klingons weren't being very good allies. But those above him had decided otherwise, and Zhukov was not one to question orders. Above all, there had to be order, and order required a clear chain of command followed at all times by those within it.
Captain Travis was another good example. At this critical moment in time, the captain had elected to beam down to the planet's surface. Zhukov believed strongly that the captain should be on the bridge throughout the evacuation. But Travis had decided otherwise, and Zhukov would never dream of contradicting his commanding officer in front of the crew. Privately, he had voiced his objections, but they had been overruled.
So be it. All Zhukov could do was trust that Travis knew what he was doing. "Lieutenant Navat," he said, breaking his train of thought, "what is the current status of the evacuation?"
"We're about ninety-five percent done," Navat replied. "Give us another half an hour or so, and we should be ready to leave."
"Good," Zhukov growled. In spite of the inevitable foul-ups, the evacuation was proceeding ahead of schedule. Maybe they would be able to slip away without any further Klingon encounters….
Wrong thought. Just then, the steady voice of Mr. Visch reported, "Commander, sensors are detecting a force of Klingon warship decloaking dead ahead."
The security officer's words sent a chill throughout the bridge, but not Zhukov. Icily calm and without hesitation, he ordered, "Battle stations."