- CHAPTER 38 -
- Flag Bridge, ISS Athena -
Ulysses Vanguard sat in the Flag Bridge's command chair, absently scratching at the Borg exoskeleton that encased his left wrist. There had been a few tense moments when 2nd Fleet discovered that they had been ordered away from the portal and the remaining few Species 8472 bio ships by a very junior Captain. Yet when they had returned to the system a few minutes later, they saw a dying planetoid where there should have been a Borg R&D facility. One thought crossed all of their minds in an instant. For what ever reason, a Genesis device had been detonated in the space they had just recently vacated. If they had not followed Ulysses orders when they did, they would now be part of that slowly freezing planet. While they were now grateful for Ulysses commands, they were still slightly ruffled that an officer who had been a Captain for only a handful of days had ordered the entire Fleet around. Fortunately there was no longer any need for battle and Admiral T'var would be up and around in a few minutes, so the rest of 2nd Fleet's officers had decided to await her decision before they did anything. Already, she had issued an order to return to the nearest Imperial Starbase for repairs. There was nothing left in the system for them to either guard or enter through, so what was the point of hanging around the lifeless system that had nothing of interest to both Starfleet Command and the Terran Council. The extreme stresses that a Genesis device detonation placed on normal space and subspace alike were most likely the cause of the portal's collapse. Whatever the reason for its disappearance though, the simple fact remained that both the Borg complex and the portal it generated were now gone. This meant that the Terran Empire had no further interest in the system, and more interest on leaving for in most cases badly needed repairs. Ships that were severely damaged were taken under tow by their still intact brethren and 2nd Fleet again jumped to slipstream, this time steering a course for Imperial space.
-The Race's reinforcements converged on the area of fluidic space that was supposed to contain the enemy's artificial warp point. All that was present was the constantly shifting green bio fluid that permeated Species 8472's realm. What had been the only portal to the Enemies space was now closed again. Yet the endeavor hadn't been a complete loss. The new enemies had died even faster than the old ones, which was valuable information to have for upcoming battles. What was even more fortunate was that a large amount of data had been gathered by the primary invasion fleet and quickly sent back for the Race's R&D to pour over. It would prove highly useful to the Race's ongoing attempt to generate their own artificial warp points. And once that research was complete, the Race could attack without worrying about keeping an enemy portal generator functioning, for it could enter enemy space at will whenever and where ever it chose. It would take some time, but one thing the Race most certainly was was patient. The time for invasion and retribution would come in due course. And then the enemy would pay the price for unprovoked attacks on the Race. -
- ISS Athena, Fighter Deck Alpha -
Cmdr. Vic McDermott surveyed the scorched and heavily pitted underside of his Cobra fighter with a mixture of awe and terror. The ablative armor coating had served its designed purpose, flaking away and sacrificing itself to save the fighter beneath, but only by a hair had it succeeded. Here and there, the force of the explosions that had claimed so many of 2nd Fleet's fighter strength had gouged past the armor and into the innards of his fighter, leaving long tears in its skin. Melted wiring hung down like multicolored vines in a jungle, and the acrid stench of burned synthetics was nearly overpowering. Parts of the underside still glowed a faint red from the extreme force of the explosions showing heat shimmer rays and emitting pings and pops as they cooled. Seeing the true extent of his fighters damage made Vic vow to find the engineer responsible for the Cobra's design and buy him as many beers as he desired. For all intents and purposes the fighter should have flown itself apart in both the dogfight with Species 8472's destroyers and frigates and the frantic, erratic course to the nearest Imperial vessel. It just happened to be the ISS Athena, and his fighter and the few other survivors he had picked up along the way had just completed their dock when the ship jumped to slipstream. Thank god for the auto docking tractors Vic thought, else there wouldn't have been time to come onboard before the Athena left.
Vic's knees were still wobbly from just how close he came to becoming part of a new planet. Damn but he needed a drink. Fortunately the VF-117 is, or rather had been given that he was the sole surviving member from the flight, based on the Athena, so he knew that there was a bottle of Romulan Ale secreted away in his quarters that would do the trick quite nicely. Tossing his vac helmet into the cockpit, he began making his way to the exit when he heard a voice behind him.
"Hey you!" Said a female voice still sheathed in a flight suit. Vic turned to see what was wrong now.
"What do you want?" Vic said in a slightly sour voice as his deep hazel eyes bored into the pilot that was keeping him from his ale.
"Just to thank you for saving my bacon back there!" the woman said as she released her helmet latches and removed it to reveal a plain yet oddly intriguing face beneath. Has to be her eyes that do it, Vic thought. They were two blue orbs that seemed to stare deep into a person. The woman extended her gloved hand which Vic clasped. After a few surprisingly strong pumps on the woman's part, she spoke again. "Lt. Cmdr. Jessica Evron, VF-2709 "Black Aces" off of the Yamato."
"Cmdr. Vic McDermott, VF-117 "Dirty Devils" off of the Athena. About that, don't worry yourself none. I'm sure that you would have done the same if our positions were reversed. Just glad I could help you out." Vic said in his usual modest way. He seemed drawn towards the Lt. Cmdr., and he wasn't exactly sure why. Perhaps it was that he was still coming down from the adrenaline induced high of combat that was causing it. Perhaps it was the bold slap in the face that fighter pilots had the lowest life expectancy of any other branch of the army that was causing his heart to race and driving him to live the time he had to the fullest.
"You sure aren't the usual fighter jock are you. Most of us are so full of ourselves that if we get a little praise for doing something good we stand around and preen like some puffed up rooster!" Miss Evron said with a slow sly smile that caused her cheeks to dimple. When she smiled her looks went from ordinary to extraordinary, at least in Vic's opinion. "Oh well, I find this modesty surprisingly refreshing. Can I buy you a drink at where ever the bar is on this floating behemoth?"
"Actually I was about to go to my quarters for a drink." Vic said, then paused a beat before continuing. "Would you want to come there instead? I can guarantee you that the alcohol is of much higher caliber than that dish water they serve at the ships bar."
"Sounds great!" Jessica said with another smile.
"Excellent!" Vic said. His stomach did a flip flop that was worse than anything gravity did while he was maneuvering his fighter. Gotta be because of the adrenaline he though, gotta be. No other reason for me to be acting like a young whelp in heat. "Follow me then."
The trip though the massive ship passed largely in silence. Vic entered his quarters and opened up a drawer, pulling out a bottle of pale blue, faintly phosphorescing, liquid and two tumblers. Pouring a generous amount into both of them, he passed Jessica one and raised the other.
"To fallen comrades!" Both of them sobered at Vic's toast as they remembered just how many of their friends and fellow pilots had died today. Vic slammed the liquid down his throat. It went down deceptively smooth, then detonated like a photon grenade in the bowels of his stomach. A warm feeling suffused him as the alcohol worked its way into his systems. As if of their own accord, his hands went to Jessica's waist and pulled her to him. She embraced him roughly and the proceeded to kiss each other deeply. What the kiss rapidly developed into resembled more of a frantic wrestling match than anything else, but afterward both laid in each others arms as their exhausted and spent bodies drifted off to the blissful oblivion of sleep.
- ISS Athena, Flag Bridge, that same time -
Fleet Admiral T'var strode onto her bridge with her usual flowing Vulcan grace. All traces of the Psychonic attacks backlash effects had been cleaned up. As every minute passed, more and more of the hundreds of thousands of personnel that manned the great ship were becoming their old selves as the EMH's and revived medical personnel did their work. Just the same, close to 4000 had been killed either by the backlash's effects on their minds or by those who had been driven insane by it and close to 9000 had been injured due to it.. A further 1563 had been killed during the Species 8472 attacks, with around 3000 injured to varying degrees. It was safe to say that while things were improving, the Athena's medical bays were still swamped.
The rest of the fleet was largely in better shape, with only five vessels in tow. But that was due mainly to the fact that bio-pulse beams tended to outright destroy an Imperial vessel rather than wound it like a normal engagement would have done. This was both good and bad. While it increased the total dead, it did allow the other ships in the fleet to handle the injured from the Athena amongst themselves with considerably more ease thanks to their own lack of injured. That seemed to be the hallmark of a Species 8472 engagement. You either ended up dead or not. Your ship was either gutted or left largely intact. Injuries weren't likely to occur with the kind of firepower they put out.
She turned to the assembled officers and crewmen arrayed in a precise twin rank in front of her. They were some of the survivors from the ISS Hopolite, and both she and all of 2nd Fleet owed them a debt of gratitude. Not only had they gotten the flagship working and back into the fight, they had also seen the threat of the Genesis torpedo when no other vessel had. That alone had saved 2nd Fleet from becoming part of the new planet that was now far behind them.
"Captain Vanguard, it is my great pleasure that I am recommending both you and all of your valiant officers and crew for medals due to your actions here today. I am sure that Starfleet Command and the Terran Council will endorse this recommendation wholeheartedly. On behalf of all of 2nd Fleet, I thank you. Now in the interim until we can return to a starbase, I am asking you and your crew to fill spots that the recent combat has left vacant in 2nd Fleet's command structure. To be specific I would like you Mr. Vanguard to assume the role of my Flag Captain, with Miss P'tel as your first officer. Engineering has also been thoroughly muddled, so the Athena also needs a capable chief engineer, and I can think of none better suited than Mr. Heidberg, as he has aptly demonstrated the capability to do the job. The rest of your crew and officers may be assigned as you see fit Captain. Do you accept my offer?" The former officers of the Hopolite stood speechless in front of T'var
This was a catch 22, for while Ulysses didn't have any desire to command such a massive vessel, he could do little other than accept now that the offer had been placed on the table. To do otherwise would be both a slap in the face of his mentor and a most likely a career halter. Starfleet wasn't in the habit of offering new commands, even temporary ones, to those who refused them. His head swimming with the new responsibilities looking after a spacedock sized starship with a crew of over 35,000 souls was a truly daunting task for one who had only recently advanced to the rank of Captain. Yet T'var was right, for both himself and his crew had shown that they had what it took to run the massive Bastion class vessel, and with so many of her normal crew injured or dead, she needed every able bodied set of hands she could get. And who better to trust with both her flagship and life than a fellow follower of Spock's teachings. It was entirely logical reasoning, and Ulysses hadn't really expected anything less from the Vulcan. Yet just the same his human instincts screamed that he wasn't yet ready for this. Then a quiet voice filled his ears, one that, and not for lack of trying, he hadn't heard in years.
"Trust T'var Uly." Then the voice was gone again. Ulysses shook his head slightly as if trying to clear it, then turned to look at T'var standing at attention with every bit of military precision that had been drilled into him at San Francisco Academy.
"Ma'am, it would be both my honor and pleasure to accept these responsibilities until such time as they aren't needed anymore."
T'var almost smiled in very unVulcanlike fashion.
"Then you and your people had best take your stations. There is a lot of work piled up and it's 56 hours and 23 minutes to Starbase 665. You have until that time to get as much of our damaged systems online as possible."
"Aye Ma'am!" He said to T'var, then turned to his subordinates. "You heard the Admiral, lets get this beast back in fighting trim!"
- Flag Bridge, ISS Athena -
Ulysses Vanguard sat in the Flag Bridge's command chair, absently scratching at the Borg exoskeleton that encased his left wrist. There had been a few tense moments when 2nd Fleet discovered that they had been ordered away from the portal and the remaining few Species 8472 bio ships by a very junior Captain. Yet when they had returned to the system a few minutes later, they saw a dying planetoid where there should have been a Borg R&D facility. One thought crossed all of their minds in an instant. For what ever reason, a Genesis device had been detonated in the space they had just recently vacated. If they had not followed Ulysses orders when they did, they would now be part of that slowly freezing planet. While they were now grateful for Ulysses commands, they were still slightly ruffled that an officer who had been a Captain for only a handful of days had ordered the entire Fleet around. Fortunately there was no longer any need for battle and Admiral T'var would be up and around in a few minutes, so the rest of 2nd Fleet's officers had decided to await her decision before they did anything. Already, she had issued an order to return to the nearest Imperial Starbase for repairs. There was nothing left in the system for them to either guard or enter through, so what was the point of hanging around the lifeless system that had nothing of interest to both Starfleet Command and the Terran Council. The extreme stresses that a Genesis device detonation placed on normal space and subspace alike were most likely the cause of the portal's collapse. Whatever the reason for its disappearance though, the simple fact remained that both the Borg complex and the portal it generated were now gone. This meant that the Terran Empire had no further interest in the system, and more interest on leaving for in most cases badly needed repairs. Ships that were severely damaged were taken under tow by their still intact brethren and 2nd Fleet again jumped to slipstream, this time steering a course for Imperial space.
-The Race's reinforcements converged on the area of fluidic space that was supposed to contain the enemy's artificial warp point. All that was present was the constantly shifting green bio fluid that permeated Species 8472's realm. What had been the only portal to the Enemies space was now closed again. Yet the endeavor hadn't been a complete loss. The new enemies had died even faster than the old ones, which was valuable information to have for upcoming battles. What was even more fortunate was that a large amount of data had been gathered by the primary invasion fleet and quickly sent back for the Race's R&D to pour over. It would prove highly useful to the Race's ongoing attempt to generate their own artificial warp points. And once that research was complete, the Race could attack without worrying about keeping an enemy portal generator functioning, for it could enter enemy space at will whenever and where ever it chose. It would take some time, but one thing the Race most certainly was was patient. The time for invasion and retribution would come in due course. And then the enemy would pay the price for unprovoked attacks on the Race. -
- ISS Athena, Fighter Deck Alpha -
Cmdr. Vic McDermott surveyed the scorched and heavily pitted underside of his Cobra fighter with a mixture of awe and terror. The ablative armor coating had served its designed purpose, flaking away and sacrificing itself to save the fighter beneath, but only by a hair had it succeeded. Here and there, the force of the explosions that had claimed so many of 2nd Fleet's fighter strength had gouged past the armor and into the innards of his fighter, leaving long tears in its skin. Melted wiring hung down like multicolored vines in a jungle, and the acrid stench of burned synthetics was nearly overpowering. Parts of the underside still glowed a faint red from the extreme force of the explosions showing heat shimmer rays and emitting pings and pops as they cooled. Seeing the true extent of his fighters damage made Vic vow to find the engineer responsible for the Cobra's design and buy him as many beers as he desired. For all intents and purposes the fighter should have flown itself apart in both the dogfight with Species 8472's destroyers and frigates and the frantic, erratic course to the nearest Imperial vessel. It just happened to be the ISS Athena, and his fighter and the few other survivors he had picked up along the way had just completed their dock when the ship jumped to slipstream. Thank god for the auto docking tractors Vic thought, else there wouldn't have been time to come onboard before the Athena left.
Vic's knees were still wobbly from just how close he came to becoming part of a new planet. Damn but he needed a drink. Fortunately the VF-117 is, or rather had been given that he was the sole surviving member from the flight, based on the Athena, so he knew that there was a bottle of Romulan Ale secreted away in his quarters that would do the trick quite nicely. Tossing his vac helmet into the cockpit, he began making his way to the exit when he heard a voice behind him.
"Hey you!" Said a female voice still sheathed in a flight suit. Vic turned to see what was wrong now.
"What do you want?" Vic said in a slightly sour voice as his deep hazel eyes bored into the pilot that was keeping him from his ale.
"Just to thank you for saving my bacon back there!" the woman said as she released her helmet latches and removed it to reveal a plain yet oddly intriguing face beneath. Has to be her eyes that do it, Vic thought. They were two blue orbs that seemed to stare deep into a person. The woman extended her gloved hand which Vic clasped. After a few surprisingly strong pumps on the woman's part, she spoke again. "Lt. Cmdr. Jessica Evron, VF-2709 "Black Aces" off of the Yamato."
"Cmdr. Vic McDermott, VF-117 "Dirty Devils" off of the Athena. About that, don't worry yourself none. I'm sure that you would have done the same if our positions were reversed. Just glad I could help you out." Vic said in his usual modest way. He seemed drawn towards the Lt. Cmdr., and he wasn't exactly sure why. Perhaps it was that he was still coming down from the adrenaline induced high of combat that was causing it. Perhaps it was the bold slap in the face that fighter pilots had the lowest life expectancy of any other branch of the army that was causing his heart to race and driving him to live the time he had to the fullest.
"You sure aren't the usual fighter jock are you. Most of us are so full of ourselves that if we get a little praise for doing something good we stand around and preen like some puffed up rooster!" Miss Evron said with a slow sly smile that caused her cheeks to dimple. When she smiled her looks went from ordinary to extraordinary, at least in Vic's opinion. "Oh well, I find this modesty surprisingly refreshing. Can I buy you a drink at where ever the bar is on this floating behemoth?"
"Actually I was about to go to my quarters for a drink." Vic said, then paused a beat before continuing. "Would you want to come there instead? I can guarantee you that the alcohol is of much higher caliber than that dish water they serve at the ships bar."
"Sounds great!" Jessica said with another smile.
"Excellent!" Vic said. His stomach did a flip flop that was worse than anything gravity did while he was maneuvering his fighter. Gotta be because of the adrenaline he though, gotta be. No other reason for me to be acting like a young whelp in heat. "Follow me then."
The trip though the massive ship passed largely in silence. Vic entered his quarters and opened up a drawer, pulling out a bottle of pale blue, faintly phosphorescing, liquid and two tumblers. Pouring a generous amount into both of them, he passed Jessica one and raised the other.
"To fallen comrades!" Both of them sobered at Vic's toast as they remembered just how many of their friends and fellow pilots had died today. Vic slammed the liquid down his throat. It went down deceptively smooth, then detonated like a photon grenade in the bowels of his stomach. A warm feeling suffused him as the alcohol worked its way into his systems. As if of their own accord, his hands went to Jessica's waist and pulled her to him. She embraced him roughly and the proceeded to kiss each other deeply. What the kiss rapidly developed into resembled more of a frantic wrestling match than anything else, but afterward both laid in each others arms as their exhausted and spent bodies drifted off to the blissful oblivion of sleep.
- ISS Athena, Flag Bridge, that same time -
Fleet Admiral T'var strode onto her bridge with her usual flowing Vulcan grace. All traces of the Psychonic attacks backlash effects had been cleaned up. As every minute passed, more and more of the hundreds of thousands of personnel that manned the great ship were becoming their old selves as the EMH's and revived medical personnel did their work. Just the same, close to 4000 had been killed either by the backlash's effects on their minds or by those who had been driven insane by it and close to 9000 had been injured due to it.. A further 1563 had been killed during the Species 8472 attacks, with around 3000 injured to varying degrees. It was safe to say that while things were improving, the Athena's medical bays were still swamped.
The rest of the fleet was largely in better shape, with only five vessels in tow. But that was due mainly to the fact that bio-pulse beams tended to outright destroy an Imperial vessel rather than wound it like a normal engagement would have done. This was both good and bad. While it increased the total dead, it did allow the other ships in the fleet to handle the injured from the Athena amongst themselves with considerably more ease thanks to their own lack of injured. That seemed to be the hallmark of a Species 8472 engagement. You either ended up dead or not. Your ship was either gutted or left largely intact. Injuries weren't likely to occur with the kind of firepower they put out.
She turned to the assembled officers and crewmen arrayed in a precise twin rank in front of her. They were some of the survivors from the ISS Hopolite, and both she and all of 2nd Fleet owed them a debt of gratitude. Not only had they gotten the flagship working and back into the fight, they had also seen the threat of the Genesis torpedo when no other vessel had. That alone had saved 2nd Fleet from becoming part of the new planet that was now far behind them.
"Captain Vanguard, it is my great pleasure that I am recommending both you and all of your valiant officers and crew for medals due to your actions here today. I am sure that Starfleet Command and the Terran Council will endorse this recommendation wholeheartedly. On behalf of all of 2nd Fleet, I thank you. Now in the interim until we can return to a starbase, I am asking you and your crew to fill spots that the recent combat has left vacant in 2nd Fleet's command structure. To be specific I would like you Mr. Vanguard to assume the role of my Flag Captain, with Miss P'tel as your first officer. Engineering has also been thoroughly muddled, so the Athena also needs a capable chief engineer, and I can think of none better suited than Mr. Heidberg, as he has aptly demonstrated the capability to do the job. The rest of your crew and officers may be assigned as you see fit Captain. Do you accept my offer?" The former officers of the Hopolite stood speechless in front of T'var
This was a catch 22, for while Ulysses didn't have any desire to command such a massive vessel, he could do little other than accept now that the offer had been placed on the table. To do otherwise would be both a slap in the face of his mentor and a most likely a career halter. Starfleet wasn't in the habit of offering new commands, even temporary ones, to those who refused them. His head swimming with the new responsibilities looking after a spacedock sized starship with a crew of over 35,000 souls was a truly daunting task for one who had only recently advanced to the rank of Captain. Yet T'var was right, for both himself and his crew had shown that they had what it took to run the massive Bastion class vessel, and with so many of her normal crew injured or dead, she needed every able bodied set of hands she could get. And who better to trust with both her flagship and life than a fellow follower of Spock's teachings. It was entirely logical reasoning, and Ulysses hadn't really expected anything less from the Vulcan. Yet just the same his human instincts screamed that he wasn't yet ready for this. Then a quiet voice filled his ears, one that, and not for lack of trying, he hadn't heard in years.
"Trust T'var Uly." Then the voice was gone again. Ulysses shook his head slightly as if trying to clear it, then turned to look at T'var standing at attention with every bit of military precision that had been drilled into him at San Francisco Academy.
"Ma'am, it would be both my honor and pleasure to accept these responsibilities until such time as they aren't needed anymore."
T'var almost smiled in very unVulcanlike fashion.
"Then you and your people had best take your stations. There is a lot of work piled up and it's 56 hours and 23 minutes to Starbase 665. You have until that time to get as much of our damaged systems online as possible."
"Aye Ma'am!" He said to T'var, then turned to his subordinates. "You heard the Admiral, lets get this beast back in fighting trim!"