- CHAPTER 26 -
- ICS Pearl Harbor, Terra Orbit -
Korath cheered along with the ecstatic howls of the rest of his crew. San Francisco was gone, the massive cloud of debris that now hung over the sight was slowly expanding to cover most of California. The ash would cover most of the surrounding states in a thick blanket. Best of all, that single blow had loped off the head of the beast. The Terran Empire was now leaderless, its political rulers gone in a single strike. The crew went on cheering, but Korath didn't continue his own. He new what would happen next. The Terran Empire rarely took prisoners, and Korath had a suspicion that First Fleet and Sol Orbital Command wouldn't be in a very charitable mood. His Maulers were powering up their capacitors for another strike, but it was not one they would have time to complete.
Despite their shock, Terra's network of battle stations and OWPs was coming online faster than his weapons were recharging. Worse, all nearby starships of First Fleet were converging on the deployed Maulers, and by association the Pearl Harbor as well. Targeting systems lashed out, locking up the now blatant weapons signatures the Maulers were producing. They mounted no defense other than their standard duranium cargo shells, and enough firepower to turn a Super Dreadnought to expanding plasma smashed into the fragile weapons. Then it was the Pearl's turn. No less than five surviving battle stations, 20 OWP's, one Wraith, four Sovereigns, six Galaxies and fifteen Defiants opened fire as one. Korath had barely begun his death howl when a mountain of crisscrossing phasers and quantum torpedoes vaporized his command and its crew.
- Alliance Staging Area 550, Near former Cardassian space -
The massive Hutets hung in space surrounded by the rest of their attached fleets. Small Hideki frigates swarmed and darted among their larger brethren. Legates, Rasilaks, Sartans, Galors and Keldons formed up into their assigned wings in preparation to move out. With them were small contingents of Klingon, Romulan, Gorn, Breen, Mirak and Lyran vessels. Every member of the alliance, while primarily concentrating on liberating their own homeworlds, had sent contingents to all fronts. The show of solidarity was reassuring, and their added firepower made up for that which the Cardassian fleet had given up to the other fronts of the coming offensive. On board CSS Hutet, Legate Dukat prowled his flagship's flag bridge restlessly.
"Does something bother you Legate?" Elim Garak, Cardassia's head of black ops queried.
"Is the Obsidian Order positive that this fleet will be enough to liberate our homeland? I would hate to travel all the way to what used to be Cardassia Prime and find it insufficient to remove the Terrans from the system."
"Rest easy Dukat, for not only the Obsidian Order but the Romulan Tal Shiar, the Klingon Black Fleet, the Breen Special Ops Division, the Gorn, Mirak and Lyran intelligence communities all concur that this fleet is sufficient to retake our empire. But better still is the new weapon that the Breen contingent carries. It is said to be able to totally disable a ship with a single shot. This means that we will have no trouble retaking Cardassia. It is to bad that the Terrans used a Genesis warhead on them. All of its cities and plants and animal life has been reworked by that dastardly device into copies of Terran plants and animals. But I suppose that with a little genetic modification, we should be able to make it nearly like it was before within about 10 years. Dukat growled and scowled at Garak, for he hated being reminded of what had befallen the Cardassian Union at the Terran Empire's hand.
"Order the fleet to move out. To Cardassia and Victory!"
"At once sir."
The massive formation of ships that the secret Orion Cartel shipyards had been turning out for the various Alliance governments over the last few years started into motion. The sheer size of the armada made it ungainly, but the upcoming battle didn't require fine control and maneuver on a fleet wide basis. Once the battle was joined, the fleet should have an easy time of it, and individual squadrons could maneuver as they pleased as they pursued the enemy. The interlocked computer nets of the ships would prioritize targets and make sure that they were evenly assigned. That particular system was almost a direct copy of the standard Imperial one, provided like nearly everything else by the Orion Cartel. The one thing it couldn't provide was crews, but in various skirmishes with Imperial ships over the last couple of years, the Cardassian Union, like all of the Alliance, had gained much needed battle experience. While that counted for a lot, the entire Alliance was hungry, nay ravenous for revenge. And a people with a desire for revenge and the tools to obtain it were the most dangerous foes in the galaxy.
The primarily Cardassian fleet wasn't alone in its initial moves either, for across the Alpha and Beta quadrants, vast fleets of formerly hidden vessels moved into the depths of space towards their destinations. Vast swarms of Warbirds and Shadows went out towards Romulus. Klingon Negh'Vars and Vor'chas headed towards Qo'noS. Breen, Gorn, Lyran and Mirak fleets were on the move into what was once their space, and soon would be again. Fleets bigger than any the respective empire's had possessed before being overrun by the Terrans left their hidden rally points under cloak to delay any Imperial detection for as long as possible. They would still be detected short of their targets, but that was planned for. Heck it was even welcomed, for it should prove easy to lure the enemies mobile defenses away from his fixed ones, enabling both to be defeated in detail far easier than would otherwise be the case.
- Alliance Station 338, Orouke Nebula, Near the Former Border of Lyran Space -
The Great Fang of the Emperor, High Admiral Zathoran strode into the cavernous shuttle deck of Alliance Station 338 and approached the small podium at the head of the assembly. He wore the ornate jeweled black leather harness and green fringed black cloak of his rank. They accentuated his emerald green feline eyes and midnight black pelt that had not yet begun to turn gray. He turned to the vast, arrow straight ranks of assembled officers, his eyes sweeping across them, pausing imperceptibly on his son and warm satisfaction filled him. His son's perpetually spotless uniform was polished to an even greater sheen than normal. The black leather was so buffed you could almost see oneself in it, and the golden bright work gleamed in the bright overhead light of the shuttle hangar. While he would always be his little cub in Zathran's eyes, he was turning into a talented officer in his own right. While Zathran was still young, having just made captain in the hidden navy the Lyran people had built up with the Orion Cartel's help, he had handily won his first engagement as Captain. He would win still more battles in the coming offensive, of that old Zathoran was sure.
While there were a lot of officers assembled in the cavernous shuttle deck of Station 338, there wasn't as many as their could have been if they had been crowded in like Terrans were apt to do. But your average Lyran would never pack in together that densely if they could help it. While ancient man had hunted in packs and learned to work in close proximity to each other, Lyrans were different. While they to had learned to work in packs for hunting, they remained largely individuals, and were extremely uncomfortable when other beings entered their personal space. Just the same, they were packed in uncomfortably close to hear their High Admirals message. Today they would strike back and reclaim their homeland.
"Fellow Lyrans, today we take back what is ours. Today we take back not only our freedom, but our honor as well!" A growl of agreement swept the assembly. While all of the original 21 Lyran counties were represented in the large group, they showed none of the usual small spats between different counties that usually marked such occasions. Today, they were united as never before, and Zathoran was forced to admit to himself, unfortunately would not likely be seen again afterward. He feared that once the Terran Empire had been forced from Lyran space, the 21 counties would all to soon fall into the same patterns of inter county squabbling that had always held back his people in the past. While the current armistice with the Mirak was also beneficial, Zathoran feared that it to would soon end after the Terrans were forced out. The blood feud between the Lyran and Mirak peoples had gone on for to long, causing to much suffering on both sides to allow them to forgive each other. Sooner or later, hostilities would again erupt between the two empires, again keeping them weak and open for foreign exploitation.
Perhaps he was just getting old, Zathoran thought to himself, perhaps his blood didn't boil with the fire of youth any more. But, he thought, that means that it doesn't cloud my judgement as much either. Oh how powerful we could become if we just cast aside our petty squabbling. All I need to do is look at the current assembly to se how glorious we can be when united.
"United as never before we say with one voice, no more! No more shall we allow our mothers and cubs to be driven into slavery by Terrans. No more shall we be put up on display like an exotic animal for Terran's amusement. No more shall we allow our honor to lie in the filth while we sit back, powerless to stop the Terrans. NO MORE!" Another growl went through the crowd, and sets of ears laid back in anger. The musk of anger filled the bay and Zathoran's pink tongue flicked out to wash the harsh sent from his ebony nose. "Know this pack brothers and sisters, there is but one possible conclusion to this fight. Today we shall strike, strike hard, and we shall WIN!" The Lyran battle cry, which humans found a blood curdling amalgam of Terran bagpipes, growls and hisses rolled up from the officer's throats.
- ICS Pearl Harbor, Terra Orbit -
Korath cheered along with the ecstatic howls of the rest of his crew. San Francisco was gone, the massive cloud of debris that now hung over the sight was slowly expanding to cover most of California. The ash would cover most of the surrounding states in a thick blanket. Best of all, that single blow had loped off the head of the beast. The Terran Empire was now leaderless, its political rulers gone in a single strike. The crew went on cheering, but Korath didn't continue his own. He new what would happen next. The Terran Empire rarely took prisoners, and Korath had a suspicion that First Fleet and Sol Orbital Command wouldn't be in a very charitable mood. His Maulers were powering up their capacitors for another strike, but it was not one they would have time to complete.
Despite their shock, Terra's network of battle stations and OWPs was coming online faster than his weapons were recharging. Worse, all nearby starships of First Fleet were converging on the deployed Maulers, and by association the Pearl Harbor as well. Targeting systems lashed out, locking up the now blatant weapons signatures the Maulers were producing. They mounted no defense other than their standard duranium cargo shells, and enough firepower to turn a Super Dreadnought to expanding plasma smashed into the fragile weapons. Then it was the Pearl's turn. No less than five surviving battle stations, 20 OWP's, one Wraith, four Sovereigns, six Galaxies and fifteen Defiants opened fire as one. Korath had barely begun his death howl when a mountain of crisscrossing phasers and quantum torpedoes vaporized his command and its crew.
- Alliance Staging Area 550, Near former Cardassian space -
The massive Hutets hung in space surrounded by the rest of their attached fleets. Small Hideki frigates swarmed and darted among their larger brethren. Legates, Rasilaks, Sartans, Galors and Keldons formed up into their assigned wings in preparation to move out. With them were small contingents of Klingon, Romulan, Gorn, Breen, Mirak and Lyran vessels. Every member of the alliance, while primarily concentrating on liberating their own homeworlds, had sent contingents to all fronts. The show of solidarity was reassuring, and their added firepower made up for that which the Cardassian fleet had given up to the other fronts of the coming offensive. On board CSS Hutet, Legate Dukat prowled his flagship's flag bridge restlessly.
"Does something bother you Legate?" Elim Garak, Cardassia's head of black ops queried.
"Is the Obsidian Order positive that this fleet will be enough to liberate our homeland? I would hate to travel all the way to what used to be Cardassia Prime and find it insufficient to remove the Terrans from the system."
"Rest easy Dukat, for not only the Obsidian Order but the Romulan Tal Shiar, the Klingon Black Fleet, the Breen Special Ops Division, the Gorn, Mirak and Lyran intelligence communities all concur that this fleet is sufficient to retake our empire. But better still is the new weapon that the Breen contingent carries. It is said to be able to totally disable a ship with a single shot. This means that we will have no trouble retaking Cardassia. It is to bad that the Terrans used a Genesis warhead on them. All of its cities and plants and animal life has been reworked by that dastardly device into copies of Terran plants and animals. But I suppose that with a little genetic modification, we should be able to make it nearly like it was before within about 10 years. Dukat growled and scowled at Garak, for he hated being reminded of what had befallen the Cardassian Union at the Terran Empire's hand.
"Order the fleet to move out. To Cardassia and Victory!"
"At once sir."
The massive formation of ships that the secret Orion Cartel shipyards had been turning out for the various Alliance governments over the last few years started into motion. The sheer size of the armada made it ungainly, but the upcoming battle didn't require fine control and maneuver on a fleet wide basis. Once the battle was joined, the fleet should have an easy time of it, and individual squadrons could maneuver as they pleased as they pursued the enemy. The interlocked computer nets of the ships would prioritize targets and make sure that they were evenly assigned. That particular system was almost a direct copy of the standard Imperial one, provided like nearly everything else by the Orion Cartel. The one thing it couldn't provide was crews, but in various skirmishes with Imperial ships over the last couple of years, the Cardassian Union, like all of the Alliance, had gained much needed battle experience. While that counted for a lot, the entire Alliance was hungry, nay ravenous for revenge. And a people with a desire for revenge and the tools to obtain it were the most dangerous foes in the galaxy.
The primarily Cardassian fleet wasn't alone in its initial moves either, for across the Alpha and Beta quadrants, vast fleets of formerly hidden vessels moved into the depths of space towards their destinations. Vast swarms of Warbirds and Shadows went out towards Romulus. Klingon Negh'Vars and Vor'chas headed towards Qo'noS. Breen, Gorn, Lyran and Mirak fleets were on the move into what was once their space, and soon would be again. Fleets bigger than any the respective empire's had possessed before being overrun by the Terrans left their hidden rally points under cloak to delay any Imperial detection for as long as possible. They would still be detected short of their targets, but that was planned for. Heck it was even welcomed, for it should prove easy to lure the enemies mobile defenses away from his fixed ones, enabling both to be defeated in detail far easier than would otherwise be the case.
- Alliance Station 338, Orouke Nebula, Near the Former Border of Lyran Space -
The Great Fang of the Emperor, High Admiral Zathoran strode into the cavernous shuttle deck of Alliance Station 338 and approached the small podium at the head of the assembly. He wore the ornate jeweled black leather harness and green fringed black cloak of his rank. They accentuated his emerald green feline eyes and midnight black pelt that had not yet begun to turn gray. He turned to the vast, arrow straight ranks of assembled officers, his eyes sweeping across them, pausing imperceptibly on his son and warm satisfaction filled him. His son's perpetually spotless uniform was polished to an even greater sheen than normal. The black leather was so buffed you could almost see oneself in it, and the golden bright work gleamed in the bright overhead light of the shuttle hangar. While he would always be his little cub in Zathran's eyes, he was turning into a talented officer in his own right. While Zathran was still young, having just made captain in the hidden navy the Lyran people had built up with the Orion Cartel's help, he had handily won his first engagement as Captain. He would win still more battles in the coming offensive, of that old Zathoran was sure.
While there were a lot of officers assembled in the cavernous shuttle deck of Station 338, there wasn't as many as their could have been if they had been crowded in like Terrans were apt to do. But your average Lyran would never pack in together that densely if they could help it. While ancient man had hunted in packs and learned to work in close proximity to each other, Lyrans were different. While they to had learned to work in packs for hunting, they remained largely individuals, and were extremely uncomfortable when other beings entered their personal space. Just the same, they were packed in uncomfortably close to hear their High Admirals message. Today they would strike back and reclaim their homeland.
"Fellow Lyrans, today we take back what is ours. Today we take back not only our freedom, but our honor as well!" A growl of agreement swept the assembly. While all of the original 21 Lyran counties were represented in the large group, they showed none of the usual small spats between different counties that usually marked such occasions. Today, they were united as never before, and Zathoran was forced to admit to himself, unfortunately would not likely be seen again afterward. He feared that once the Terran Empire had been forced from Lyran space, the 21 counties would all to soon fall into the same patterns of inter county squabbling that had always held back his people in the past. While the current armistice with the Mirak was also beneficial, Zathoran feared that it to would soon end after the Terrans were forced out. The blood feud between the Lyran and Mirak peoples had gone on for to long, causing to much suffering on both sides to allow them to forgive each other. Sooner or later, hostilities would again erupt between the two empires, again keeping them weak and open for foreign exploitation.
Perhaps he was just getting old, Zathoran thought to himself, perhaps his blood didn't boil with the fire of youth any more. But, he thought, that means that it doesn't cloud my judgement as much either. Oh how powerful we could become if we just cast aside our petty squabbling. All I need to do is look at the current assembly to se how glorious we can be when united.
"United as never before we say with one voice, no more! No more shall we allow our mothers and cubs to be driven into slavery by Terrans. No more shall we be put up on display like an exotic animal for Terran's amusement. No more shall we allow our honor to lie in the filth while we sit back, powerless to stop the Terrans. NO MORE!" Another growl went through the crowd, and sets of ears laid back in anger. The musk of anger filled the bay and Zathoran's pink tongue flicked out to wash the harsh sent from his ebony nose. "Know this pack brothers and sisters, there is but one possible conclusion to this fight. Today we shall strike, strike hard, and we shall WIN!" The Lyran battle cry, which humans found a blood curdling amalgam of Terran bagpipes, growls and hisses rolled up from the officer's throats.