- CHAPTER 29 -
- Wraith class ISS Iowa, Flagship of 2nd Fleet Battle Group B, enroute to rendezvous with the main body of 2nd Fleet -
Admiral Jefferson Clark sat serenely in his chair on the Iowa's Flag Bridge. It had undergone an upgrade to the Bastion class Flag Bridge standard during her recent refit. Clark was amazed by the tremendous increase in battlefield awareness it gave a flag officer. Instead of just a single main viewer that had had to suffice during major fleet engagements, the new system of holo emitters being imbedded in the bulkheads of the bridge allowed for a 360 degree panoramic view of the surrounding space. Ships, both enemy and friendly alike, could be queried as to their status in a mere glance instead of having to sift through a large listing on a LCARS panel. When the system was active in the midst of a battle, it was almost like one was in an EVA suit with the various ships swarming around, throwing their exceedingly deadly weaponry at each other in a precisely choreographed dance of destruction. Giving direction to that dance was made all the easier by the new view system.
Right now, it showed the ranks of Imperial warships flying in precise formation through the swirling aqua blue vortex of slipstream. Even the fact that they was nothing to call any officer under him on couldn't bring down his spirits. What more could a warrior and defender of the Empire desire than to be in command of such a vast array of power and might as it flew towards the enemy. It was truly an inspiring sight, one that never failed to fill him with child like wonder. But he could also be like a child playing with ants when it came to his underlings. He tolerated absolutely no errors, allowed absolutely no deviation from his assigned plans. Nearly all of his inferiors had spent time in the agonizer due to their failure or the failures of their own subordinates. Clark's methods, though they may not have won him much support or loyalty, did ensure that nearly no single mistake was ever repeated. And since he had nothing to call any of the rest of the Battle Group on at the moment, he lounged in his luxuriously appointed and upholstered chair with a Cheshire smile on his face.
"Admiral, we have a message incoming from the Athena. It's Fleet Admiral T'var Sir." The Iowa's duty com officer said, merely a vague outline through the semi transparent holo display. Jefferson sat a little straighter in his chair, for as hard as he was on his subordinates, he very nearly fawned over his superiors. In 2nd Fleet, that meant Fleet Admiral T'var, and he had developed a case of near hero worship towards her during his time under her command. He brushed an imaginary piece of lint from his immaculate white and gold uniform, then turned towards the com officer.
"Put her through Ensign." The ghostly shape moved slightly as the Ensign entered the necessary commands onto his console. The bridge speakers chimed as a mid sized com window opened up on the holo display in front of Jefferson.
"Admiral Clark," T'var's impassive Vulcan face appeared in the window, "I am afraid that I have some bad news to convey. It would appear that Admiral Chriton has lost nearly his entire command, and that the new enemy of the Empire, Species 8472, is about to follow the remnants of his fleet back into A875 34B9." That brought a frown to Clark's face before he could hide it behind his usual poker face. If their ready forces were powerful enough to destroy 24th Fleet so rapidly, that meant that they could at least give 2nd Fleet as it constituted currently a good run for their money in a stand up fight. "Although I could withdraw from the Borg Portal, conceding the system to the enemy until we could destroy them without pause, it would also enable them to bring forth still more of their own forces. And I wouldn't want to let the kind of firepower they can bring to bear into our neck of the woods if I can help it."
That also brought a frown, a concerned one, to Clark's face. What exactly was Fleet Admiral T'var planning on doing then if she didn't intend to withdraw? Like all senior Flag officers assigned to this operation, he had been shown the recovered Borg record of what had happened to their expeditionary force that had been sent through the portal. That had been years ago, even before the Terran/Borg war began. Lord only knew just what they had developed in the intervening years as a result of the Borg letting them know that there were powerful threats to their existence. Of course, that assumed that they saw the Borg as a powerful threat, which was shrouded in doubt due to the very fact that their weapons had decimated the initial waves of Cubes with mind numbing rapidity. T'var continued and Clark again pushed his thoughts aside as he listened to his CO.
"As such, I have decided to engage the enemy here, near the portal. Even now engineering teams are racing to deactivate the portal. But because of its very nature, my people tell me that it draws a portion of its power from subspace itself. As a result, you can't simply shut it off and it closes immediately. It takes the better part of three hours for it to finally power down and close itself. That means that we must hold the enemy here for at least that long in order to ensure that further hostile vessels do not break out into the rest of the Galaxy. I am changing your orders Admiral. Your ships are to proceed at flank speed, without regard for Battle Group cohesion, to rendezvous here as rapidly as possible." Overcoming his initial shock at her decision, Clark nodded to the pickup.
"I understand sir. The BG execute your orders immediately."
"Thank you Jefferson." Clark blinked in astonishment at her use of his first name. It was something she had never done before in all the years he had been her second in command of 2nd Fleet. "T'var out." And then she was gone, leaving Jefferson to carryout what may very well become her final orders to him. He quickly turned and began snapping orders. Soon, the more modern vessels in the Battle Group began to streak ahead, leaving their slower counterparts behind. The Soulwolf's and Wraith's, being the fastest in slipstream took the lead, followed closely by the Achilles' class Cruisers. The ancient Ark Royal's lagged behind everything else. Their design heralded back to the time when the Constitution was Queen of the battlefield, and most were over 125 years old. Refits and upgrades could only do so much to the ancient carriers, but while Bu Ships scrambled to build a modern equivalent for them they were the heaviest carriers the Terran Empire possessed. As such, when the fighter again came in vogue, the old girls had been brought out of mothballs till a younger, sleeker version of themselves could be brought into production. The other ships of the BG accelerated to their highest slipstream velocity, stringing out the formation as their various different speeds carried them away from each other in their headlong rush to rejoin their comrades in 2nd Fleet proper.
- Borg System A875 34B9 -
The phase cloaked vessel ghosted insystem. Not a trace of her passage was visible on any known normal space sensor systems, but her Captain wasn't taking any chances. The ship was only moving at ΒΌ impulse power, and was under strict EMCON even while hidden behind her phase cloak. Her mission was known only to a very few, and most of those were now dead due to "accidents" or "natural causes" in order to keep the total number who knew of her mission even lower than would normally be the case. Her Captain didn't know why he had been ordered to do what he was about to do, but he would follow his orders just the same. You either followed orders in his line of work, or you and your family were discretely or not so discretely eliminated. He knew because he had done so to others who didn't follow orders. He glanced down to a seemingly out of place panel on the cramped bridge of his hidden vessel. It glowed the steady green of readiness, and the distance reading on it was slowly counting down to zero. The Captain turned his attention back to the main viewer, watching as the massive fleet of Imperial vessels swelled larger as he approached. They were back light by an even more massive, Borgish looking ring structure, from the center of which hung a swirling vortex of a hideous shade of yellow green. The Captain shook his head thinking what a waste of powerful ships and trained personnel this was going to be.
- Wreck of the ISS Hopolite, Main Bridge -
Cmdr Clay Heidberg finished climbing out of the now dead turbolift shaft. He thanked whoever the engineer was that had stuck a ladder in the shafts, because without it his trip from what was left of main engineering would have been more indirect and cramped due to his having to use a jeferies tube. He came out onto the shambles of the Hopolite's bridge just as Lt. Cmdr. Percy Davenport shouted his warning. Along with everyone else on the bridge, they all looked towards the slightly static filled main viewer as a quartet of Imperial vessels made transit through the Borg portal. Two were mangled wrecks trailing drive plasma like blood while the other two were heavily damaged. Nearly immediately a mayday came over the speakers.
"ISS Battle Born to any Terran Empire vessel, we are in immediate need of assistance. There is a large hostile force not far behind us. It is imperative that the portal be shut down immediately!"
"Understood Battle Born, an engineering team is being dispatched now to cut power to the system. There is also teams being dispatched to your vessels to conduct emergency repairs and help in the transfer of wounded. Hold station, help is on the way, T'var out." On the main viewer, some of 2nd Fleets warships broke formation to englobe their wounded comrades. Time seemed to crawl by. In fact it seemed as if the Hopolite was all but forgotten about. Ulysses could live with that. His own wounded and nonessential personnel had already beamed out, so he wasn't about to grant those four battered ships the same treatment. Still, with all of the transport capacity 2nd Fleet had available, shouldn't someone have notified them to ready for beam out? Ulysses was just about to activate a com channel to the flagship when there was a gasp from tactical. On screen, where there had only been the Borg portal and 2nd Fleet mere seconds before, there was a steadily growing swarm of spindle shaped brown and yellow craft. But unlike the command staff of the Hopolite, the rest of the Fleet was still in the tactical data net, and it reacted nearly instantly to Fleet Admiral T'var's standing orders. Nearby ships stabbed at the four survivors from Chriton's battle line with their tractors, and with the Hopolite still nestled in the Athena's tractor beam, the entire fleet stuttered their slip drives to snap to the prearranged rally point farther out from the portal. This took them outside weapons range and gave them time to organize into the proper attack formation. Just the same, more and more enemy craft poured from the portal like a swarm of bees whose hive had been disturbed.
"Much as it pains me to say it, I think now would be a good time to get the heck off of this derelict and onto something a little more sturdy, like say the Athena?" Cmdr Heidberg said. Ulysses looked at him, shuddered as if clearing away a bad dream, then nodded and reached for his communicator.
- Wraith class ISS Iowa, Flagship of 2nd Fleet Battle Group B, enroute to rendezvous with the main body of 2nd Fleet -
Admiral Jefferson Clark sat serenely in his chair on the Iowa's Flag Bridge. It had undergone an upgrade to the Bastion class Flag Bridge standard during her recent refit. Clark was amazed by the tremendous increase in battlefield awareness it gave a flag officer. Instead of just a single main viewer that had had to suffice during major fleet engagements, the new system of holo emitters being imbedded in the bulkheads of the bridge allowed for a 360 degree panoramic view of the surrounding space. Ships, both enemy and friendly alike, could be queried as to their status in a mere glance instead of having to sift through a large listing on a LCARS panel. When the system was active in the midst of a battle, it was almost like one was in an EVA suit with the various ships swarming around, throwing their exceedingly deadly weaponry at each other in a precisely choreographed dance of destruction. Giving direction to that dance was made all the easier by the new view system.
Right now, it showed the ranks of Imperial warships flying in precise formation through the swirling aqua blue vortex of slipstream. Even the fact that they was nothing to call any officer under him on couldn't bring down his spirits. What more could a warrior and defender of the Empire desire than to be in command of such a vast array of power and might as it flew towards the enemy. It was truly an inspiring sight, one that never failed to fill him with child like wonder. But he could also be like a child playing with ants when it came to his underlings. He tolerated absolutely no errors, allowed absolutely no deviation from his assigned plans. Nearly all of his inferiors had spent time in the agonizer due to their failure or the failures of their own subordinates. Clark's methods, though they may not have won him much support or loyalty, did ensure that nearly no single mistake was ever repeated. And since he had nothing to call any of the rest of the Battle Group on at the moment, he lounged in his luxuriously appointed and upholstered chair with a Cheshire smile on his face.
"Admiral, we have a message incoming from the Athena. It's Fleet Admiral T'var Sir." The Iowa's duty com officer said, merely a vague outline through the semi transparent holo display. Jefferson sat a little straighter in his chair, for as hard as he was on his subordinates, he very nearly fawned over his superiors. In 2nd Fleet, that meant Fleet Admiral T'var, and he had developed a case of near hero worship towards her during his time under her command. He brushed an imaginary piece of lint from his immaculate white and gold uniform, then turned towards the com officer.
"Put her through Ensign." The ghostly shape moved slightly as the Ensign entered the necessary commands onto his console. The bridge speakers chimed as a mid sized com window opened up on the holo display in front of Jefferson.
"Admiral Clark," T'var's impassive Vulcan face appeared in the window, "I am afraid that I have some bad news to convey. It would appear that Admiral Chriton has lost nearly his entire command, and that the new enemy of the Empire, Species 8472, is about to follow the remnants of his fleet back into A875 34B9." That brought a frown to Clark's face before he could hide it behind his usual poker face. If their ready forces were powerful enough to destroy 24th Fleet so rapidly, that meant that they could at least give 2nd Fleet as it constituted currently a good run for their money in a stand up fight. "Although I could withdraw from the Borg Portal, conceding the system to the enemy until we could destroy them without pause, it would also enable them to bring forth still more of their own forces. And I wouldn't want to let the kind of firepower they can bring to bear into our neck of the woods if I can help it."
That also brought a frown, a concerned one, to Clark's face. What exactly was Fleet Admiral T'var planning on doing then if she didn't intend to withdraw? Like all senior Flag officers assigned to this operation, he had been shown the recovered Borg record of what had happened to their expeditionary force that had been sent through the portal. That had been years ago, even before the Terran/Borg war began. Lord only knew just what they had developed in the intervening years as a result of the Borg letting them know that there were powerful threats to their existence. Of course, that assumed that they saw the Borg as a powerful threat, which was shrouded in doubt due to the very fact that their weapons had decimated the initial waves of Cubes with mind numbing rapidity. T'var continued and Clark again pushed his thoughts aside as he listened to his CO.
"As such, I have decided to engage the enemy here, near the portal. Even now engineering teams are racing to deactivate the portal. But because of its very nature, my people tell me that it draws a portion of its power from subspace itself. As a result, you can't simply shut it off and it closes immediately. It takes the better part of three hours for it to finally power down and close itself. That means that we must hold the enemy here for at least that long in order to ensure that further hostile vessels do not break out into the rest of the Galaxy. I am changing your orders Admiral. Your ships are to proceed at flank speed, without regard for Battle Group cohesion, to rendezvous here as rapidly as possible." Overcoming his initial shock at her decision, Clark nodded to the pickup.
"I understand sir. The BG execute your orders immediately."
"Thank you Jefferson." Clark blinked in astonishment at her use of his first name. It was something she had never done before in all the years he had been her second in command of 2nd Fleet. "T'var out." And then she was gone, leaving Jefferson to carryout what may very well become her final orders to him. He quickly turned and began snapping orders. Soon, the more modern vessels in the Battle Group began to streak ahead, leaving their slower counterparts behind. The Soulwolf's and Wraith's, being the fastest in slipstream took the lead, followed closely by the Achilles' class Cruisers. The ancient Ark Royal's lagged behind everything else. Their design heralded back to the time when the Constitution was Queen of the battlefield, and most were over 125 years old. Refits and upgrades could only do so much to the ancient carriers, but while Bu Ships scrambled to build a modern equivalent for them they were the heaviest carriers the Terran Empire possessed. As such, when the fighter again came in vogue, the old girls had been brought out of mothballs till a younger, sleeker version of themselves could be brought into production. The other ships of the BG accelerated to their highest slipstream velocity, stringing out the formation as their various different speeds carried them away from each other in their headlong rush to rejoin their comrades in 2nd Fleet proper.
- Borg System A875 34B9 -
The phase cloaked vessel ghosted insystem. Not a trace of her passage was visible on any known normal space sensor systems, but her Captain wasn't taking any chances. The ship was only moving at ΒΌ impulse power, and was under strict EMCON even while hidden behind her phase cloak. Her mission was known only to a very few, and most of those were now dead due to "accidents" or "natural causes" in order to keep the total number who knew of her mission even lower than would normally be the case. Her Captain didn't know why he had been ordered to do what he was about to do, but he would follow his orders just the same. You either followed orders in his line of work, or you and your family were discretely or not so discretely eliminated. He knew because he had done so to others who didn't follow orders. He glanced down to a seemingly out of place panel on the cramped bridge of his hidden vessel. It glowed the steady green of readiness, and the distance reading on it was slowly counting down to zero. The Captain turned his attention back to the main viewer, watching as the massive fleet of Imperial vessels swelled larger as he approached. They were back light by an even more massive, Borgish looking ring structure, from the center of which hung a swirling vortex of a hideous shade of yellow green. The Captain shook his head thinking what a waste of powerful ships and trained personnel this was going to be.
- Wreck of the ISS Hopolite, Main Bridge -
Cmdr Clay Heidberg finished climbing out of the now dead turbolift shaft. He thanked whoever the engineer was that had stuck a ladder in the shafts, because without it his trip from what was left of main engineering would have been more indirect and cramped due to his having to use a jeferies tube. He came out onto the shambles of the Hopolite's bridge just as Lt. Cmdr. Percy Davenport shouted his warning. Along with everyone else on the bridge, they all looked towards the slightly static filled main viewer as a quartet of Imperial vessels made transit through the Borg portal. Two were mangled wrecks trailing drive plasma like blood while the other two were heavily damaged. Nearly immediately a mayday came over the speakers.
"ISS Battle Born to any Terran Empire vessel, we are in immediate need of assistance. There is a large hostile force not far behind us. It is imperative that the portal be shut down immediately!"
"Understood Battle Born, an engineering team is being dispatched now to cut power to the system. There is also teams being dispatched to your vessels to conduct emergency repairs and help in the transfer of wounded. Hold station, help is on the way, T'var out." On the main viewer, some of 2nd Fleets warships broke formation to englobe their wounded comrades. Time seemed to crawl by. In fact it seemed as if the Hopolite was all but forgotten about. Ulysses could live with that. His own wounded and nonessential personnel had already beamed out, so he wasn't about to grant those four battered ships the same treatment. Still, with all of the transport capacity 2nd Fleet had available, shouldn't someone have notified them to ready for beam out? Ulysses was just about to activate a com channel to the flagship when there was a gasp from tactical. On screen, where there had only been the Borg portal and 2nd Fleet mere seconds before, there was a steadily growing swarm of spindle shaped brown and yellow craft. But unlike the command staff of the Hopolite, the rest of the Fleet was still in the tactical data net, and it reacted nearly instantly to Fleet Admiral T'var's standing orders. Nearby ships stabbed at the four survivors from Chriton's battle line with their tractors, and with the Hopolite still nestled in the Athena's tractor beam, the entire fleet stuttered their slip drives to snap to the prearranged rally point farther out from the portal. This took them outside weapons range and gave them time to organize into the proper attack formation. Just the same, more and more enemy craft poured from the portal like a swarm of bees whose hive had been disturbed.
"Much as it pains me to say it, I think now would be a good time to get the heck off of this derelict and onto something a little more sturdy, like say the Athena?" Cmdr Heidberg said. Ulysses looked at him, shuddered as if clearing away a bad dream, then nodded and reached for his communicator.