PUBLISHED ON Nov 13, 2021
Chapter 5: Desperation
Music for yhis chapter : Terran Theme 1 Music StarCraft Remastered - OST Official Soundtrack SC1
Konnie, Mount Whitecap military base, commander center
March 3, 2528, Koprulu Terran Calendar
1000 local time
The marshal waited relatively patiently for the shock of the revelation to pass, although it was not without a mildly perturbed sigh, partially brought on by the realization he'd crushed his cigar. He nonchalantly lit up another one while waiting for the two Starfleet officers to compose themselves.
"Yeah, like I said, Commander Riker, shit's fucked, and there's not much we can do to fix that besides get the comms center back up and running," a shrug, exaggerated by his armor, punctuated his almost casual acceptance of how dire the situation was.
"The Enterprise can't fight twelve Cardassian cruisers at once. It won't be for lack of trying though, but it's not a winnable fight," Riker ran a hand down his face, trying to find something that would alter the course of things. No matter what he tried to envision, he came back to the same conclusion as Wilks: The comms center in the capital had to be retaken, no matter what.
"What do you have at your disposal, Marshal? How many troops do the Cardassians have for that matter?" Another shrug from Wilks.
"By our estimates, each troopship carried at least two thousand men and associated supplies, and that's being conservative based off of recon reports and educated guessing. As for our forces, I've got about eight hundred marines left here, god knows how many are cut off in other parts of the colony though if they're still alive," he took a long, slow drag from his cigar. His face was locked in a grimace.
"Hell, the cresties seem pretty interested in them. Scouts report the bastards pulling our dead out of their armors to study the suits. Guess that figures. I've also got a dozen reapers, four of which you met, including old Rodney. Man's an ornery SOB but you don't get to be old as a reaper without that quality. We've also got the two siege tanks, even if they're old as dirt Arclite models. We've got about eighteen vulture jetbikes, even if they're deathtraps most of the time," he took another drag, and waited for Riker and Worf to stop sharing a look of mutual exasperation.
"Hey, I don't like the damn things either," his grimace widened, "but I've seen them in action. Their grenade launchers and spider mines can really put the hurt on things when used right." The two other officers stared flatly at him. Riker looked like he wanted to call every one else in the room completely crazy.
"Beyond that, we've managed to slap some weapons on half a dozen SCVs. Four with some old chainguns and two with flamethrowers that would usually be used for land clearance and controlled burns. Sure, they're construction vehicles, but they've got decent plating and they're big, and if the worst comes to pass, their fusion torches are damn nasty. We've also got a team of four independent HERC operators. They're usually miners and prospectors, but the gear on those suits can fry Zerg as well as it cracks open asteroids. Their armor is also tough as hell, closest we've got to Marauders around here. This isn't counting any of the few thousand light militia or emergency volunteers, but I'm holding them back for defense only given the circumstances," he brought a holographic display the coms center and the surrounding area. It was on the edge of an urban area, the north sector of it bordered by grassland which in turn was bordered by forests. "Hell, we've even got old Johan and his old as dirt APC in on this. A giant block of armor driving up the street to the gates is going to draw attention."
He pulled up a battle plan on the device, showing his intended encirclement of the station. "I'm already tasking the reapers, both tanks, the bikes, three of the SCVs, the HERCs, Johan and two hundred marines to retake the coms station in the capital. Last reports say the cresties have anywhere from five hundred to seven hundred troops there. It ain't the best odds, given we know their zap guns will burn through CMC like those the Protoss use if given time and a chance, even if they're on the weaker side, but I don't want to give them the chance to fortify the place any more than they already have or to bring in heavier weapons if they've got them." Riker took a long and deep breath.
'If I survive this, Starfleet medical is never letting me leave the damn psych ward at this rate,' followed by a slow exhale. "Marshal, I personally think your plan is beyond risky given how outnumbered your people will be, but…I also don't have a better idea. I also know my team is not in any shape to try and help directly. We're not equipped for heavy combat, I am well aware of that now and believe me, I wish that wasn't the case." Wilks gave him a sympathetic look and wave of his cigar.
"Son, I already told you, you did more than enough with what you brought. Hell, one of your men died for it, and another's in critical condition. If you're that hard up about helping though, we can always use more hands to help move supplies and the injured, but I won't ask for more beyond that. Just keep your rifles on you in case the cresties get inside and that'll be enough." Worf nodded, a bit sagely perhaps, but he disagreed with the marshal.
"Actually, Marshal Wilks," his demeanor was oddly clam given his earlier frustrations and then enforced stoicism after the raid on the mortars, "there is some way we could be of assistance. Given how vitally important the communications center is, it is almost certain the Cardassians have brought in heavier weapons to protect it. Additionally, there is tactical information I can provide that may be of use." Wilks arched an eyebrow in interest, while Riker gave his subordinate a somewhat shocked look.
"I didn't realize you'd studied the Cardassians in detail, Mister Worf."
"With all due respect, commander, I took the matter upon myself. As chief of security, is it my duty to be prepared for multiple possible scenarios. As things stand, I believe the marshal would like to know everything he can about the Cardassians before he launches his attack."
"Let your man speak," he said with a laugh. "Right so, first do the Cardies tend to mine their defenses or just hunker down? What about booby traps? Denial of supplies and all that. Usually we don't have to bother unless we're dealing with pirates or something, cause Zerg and 'Toss tend to not care about our gear. I ain't planning to give the Cardies that same treatment. What about armored vehicles? Do they need pylons like the 'Toss do when they teleport into a place?" Worf nodded again in approval, but also some confusion as he cast a curious glance at Riker.
"If they have the supplies for it, they will have almost certainly mined the roadways to the communications center at the very least. Their effect would be more concentrated there. They may mine the grasslands to slow an advance, but to what extent I cannot say knowing nothing about their supply situation, but I can provide information on disarming them," he paused, holding a hand to his chin as he thought further. "It is almost a certainty that they will booby trap the supplies they have on hand, but I doubt it will be done that far in advance, especially if they feel secure enough in their ability to fortify and hold the area."
Wilks nodded, him and his officers taking in the information. They didn't have the equipment on hand to do a vast scan of the area for mines in advance, and doing an active search under fire was impossible. At the very least, any troops advancing along the roads could clear a path, albeit slowly. He signaled for Worf to continue.
"As far as I am aware, the Cardassians have no heavy vehicles. They're generally considered obsolete in this age, but it would appear your people have found exceptions to this thinking. This also means any mines they have access to may struggle to pierce vehicle armor if it's made out of the same materials as that of those suits your people prefer in combat," He zoomed in on the communications center itself, and focused on the outlines of what were likely the now heavily damaged colonial defenses.
"Although, I'm not sure how such platforms will fare against Cardassian heavy disruptors. They're manned by a crew of two, and mounted on a base that allows for three hundred and sixty degrees of rotation. They're also capable of burning through hardened concrete and I've heard they can burn through the armor of lighter starships given the chance, but that may be an exaggeration. If the Cardassians beam down reinforcements, they may just do so in the middle of a firefight. I do not know what a 'pylon' in this instance is, but I assure you they do not need it." There was a curse at his closing remark from somewhere in the room.
"Well damn," Wilks drawled darkly. "So they could just teleport in here any damn time they want? Shit…we need to move quickly then. I appreciate your insight, lieutenant. Any chance we could force a surrender?" Worf drummed his fingers on the table thinking for a moment. The Cardassians were…determined would be the best way to put it, yet so to were the colonists.
"I doubt they would just transport into your base, Marshal. That would be suicide, even for Cardassians. As to whether or not they surrender, I cannot give you an answer. During the war between them and the Federation, both fights to the death and surrenders happened during combat on the ground. All I know for certain is that they will resist fiercely. If your medical personnel are not already preparing for heavy causalities, have them do so now." Worf paused, his features hardening as he turned to Riker. "Commander, I request that I and a small team accompany the Marshal's people. They may need our assistance in disabling whatever technology the Cardassians have brought to the station." Riker was aghast, not just at the request, but at this friend going back into such a warzone after everything they'd been through already.
"Are you sure, Worf? We can't guarantee the Enterprise will be able to get us out of this one. It may be a one way trip."
"I am sure, Commander. We may not have time to get to the station later if we are needed. We have to be there as part of the assault, even if we do not take a direct role in it," He turned to Wilks. The marshal smiled; there was an all too familiar fire in the man's eyes, even though he wasn't human. "Marshal, I would like to requisition some of your militia's lighter armor."
Konnie, tunnel beneath Hopner's Landing
March 3, 2528, Koprulu Terran Calendar
1030 local time
Two hundred marines, a bunch of vulture bikes, three upgunned SCVs, and two siege tanks, even old ones, was for many a daunting sight. It promised a world of pain for most things that weren't prepared for the wall of firepower and armor, and this formation of desperate and angry colonists, some veterans of the worst wars the sector had seen, were no exception. Battles had been won and lost upon the backs of marines and the tanks behind them, as well as the fast movers protecting the flanks. Terran history in Koprulu was proof enough of this, and the few reapers among their number were simply more recent additions to that history.
Dan Rodney did not particularly like being a reaper. He'd first been inducted into their ranks when old Arcturus was still calling the shots, back when most of the Dominion's Reaper Corps was a bunch of psychopaths and other sorts who in most cases would have ended up dead in jail. Instead Arcturus gave them all military grade equipment and a promise of a pardon for all crimes if they survived a set number of missions, not that any of them did, at first at least. Rodney was a bit on the lucky side, he'd been inducted into the reapers not long before Arcturus was blown to hell by Kerrigan herself. He still remembered fighting the Zerg on Korhal during that time and wondering how in the hell he survived where so many others died.
'Now I'm an old shit from an outfit where most of the old shits are either crippled or totally batshit in psych wards. Guess I'm just lucky like that,' He sighed, taking a swig from a canteen filled with gutter whiskey he traded from a marine for some smokes.
He didn't want to admit it, but part of his longevity almost certainly had to do with Valerian's ascension to the Dominion throne following his father's death, and the subsequent reformation of the Reapers as part of his sweeping reforms for the military. Most of them had been discharged. A few lucky ones like Rodney had actually gotten the psychological help that they had needed most of their lives and continued to serve, well into a cushy retirement, or so he'd thought. A somewhat mad grin spread across his face.
'I made it through Korhal twice, once against the Zerg, then against Mobius, then I was there when a bunch of us got seconded to Jimmy Raynor and we ended it all. You spoon-headed sons of bitches ain't taking me down on Konnie.' He could see the light of day ahead as the tank he was riding trundled ever onward. He set and locked his helmet in place. 'Damn,' he thought with a chuckle no one but he heard. 'I can't believe I actually kind of missed this crazy shit.'
Konnie, roof tops of Hopner's Landing
March 3, 2528, Koprulu Terran Calendar
1050 local time
Rodney and the other old reapers bounded from roof to roof, he was still wearing that mad grin beneath his helmet. The capital of the colony was by far the most urbanized spot, even if it paled in comparison to actual cities on other worlds. It still afforded him and the others a height advantage few places in the other settlements did. From here he could see the fifty or so marines plus the HERCs slowly advancing through the streets below, clearing out Cardassian mines where they found the devices, and behind them were a bunch of the vultures and the three SCVs assigned to the attack, as well as Johan's APC. Out further though, he could see the communications center, their target and one chance at salvation.
The drivers of those floating deathtraps had a simple job: Lay down spider mines, provoke the Cardies, run once they gave chase, and then hit the flanks when they inevitably got tangled with the marines. Assuming any of them of them made it that far of course. He'd seen spider mines in action. If they could blow apart marauders, then he doubted the lightly armored Cardassians would fare any better. After that, while the enemy was scrambling to respond to the attack, the arclites further out in nearby part of the city would start shelling the defenses. The more mortars and any potential heavy weapons they knocked out the better, especially when the rest of the marines began advancing to try and encircle the station.
That was where he and the others came into the picture. Confusion plus artillery as cover was a seasoned reaper's playground. It was going to be bloody, he was certain of that much, but a reaper landing even near a group of light infantry after having launched from a multi-story building? His grin somehow widened further. The kinetic impact alone would cause damage.
He could already feel the signs, the impending pinpricks of adrenaline beginning to flow. He'd felt hints of it, back at the development and then the raid at the warehouse, but this was something he'd not felt in years, a decade even. It was a feeling he'd missed.
Konnie, Communications Center
Stardate 44099.0
1100 local time
Trooper Krell Ghemad was beginning to think his father and the recruiter had lied to him about the glamor of a soldier's life. He'd been promised glory and riches crushing the enemies of Cardassia, be it upstarts like the Bajorans, barbarians like the Klingons, or the snobs of the Federation that turned their noses up at the hard working individuals of the galaxy. Right now he was fairly certain if he survived he'd shoot both of them given half a chance.
This whole experience had been nothing like what he'd been promised. He'd done a brief tour on Bajor, occasionally dodging the odd mortar fired by a small group of rebels or chasing down some minor couriers. That hadn't met his expectations either and he'd put in for a transfer as soon as he could, and right now he was greatly regretting that. The humans on this planet were insane, even by the arguably low standards of the Federation given some of the things he'd heard.
They not only used ballistics–and what backwards cretin still used a weapon that accelerated metal to high velocities for that matter?–they wore metal armor on their bodies, which would have been absurd enough, given no one but the Klingons still did such a thing, but of course that wasn't enough, no. It had to get even more absurd, chiefly when he and the others in his unit discovered that the material composing this armor was sturdy enough to withstand disruptors on their lower settings, and even a worrying number of shots on the more mid-tier settings. But of course! That wasn't absurd enough.
They then brought in even heavier armor, and it wasn't just heavier plating–even though they'd seen plenty of that as well–because that would have been reasonable. Instead they'd brought out giant suits of that same metal alloy, and giant really did describe these things. These people were already taller than what he'd been taught was the average for their kind in the Federation, well above it in fact, and far more muscular as well. Those suits took them even further in height, let them pick up a fully grown male by the head without effort, and carry around those oversized monstrous things these colonists had the audacity to call rifles.
If he hadn't seen it all personally, the absurdity of it was such that had anyone told him all of this he'd have called them a liar to their face. Right now though he was wishing it was a lie. Half of his disruptor's charge packs were recharging alongside so many others, because those damnable suits took far more time and effort to breach than they had any right for something so ugly, base and primitive looking. Combined with those oversized "rifles" and they were a nightmare to directly combat. He'd seen someone get a lucky shot with a launcher modified from a mortar and kill one of the things, but he was fairly certain at that point the armor had already been partially compromised by multiple high setting disruptor hits.
'And I'm never going to feel clean again after washing poor Rarbex off of me…' he shuddered in barely suppressed horror. That memory was far too fresh still, three days was not enough time to sufficiently repress having gore that used to be the upper half of another person smeared across him.
He glanced about, making sure that there were no glinns nearby, the pesky officers had a habit of materializing out of nowhere, and then he leaned against the central building, taking a swig from his canteen and enjoying the morning heat. The sun had burned off the chill, and whatever season the planet was in was more in line with the Cardassian preference for higher temperatures than some other intelligent species. The fact that this place was still nippy in the mornings didn't particularly make this planet high on his list of potential retirement worlds though. He hated the cold.
The morning had been quiet though, nothing aside from the occasional shouts from the glinns or the morning creatures of this world such as the various birds. After several days of hectic fighting that had seen more of his fellow Cardassians die in horrible ways he'd never imagined, he was thankful for the quiet. This last for perhaps another fifteen minutes before he heard frantic and alarmed shouting from somewhere near the compound before it was drowned out by several distant explosions. He grabbed another man as they went by, demanding to know what happened.
"The humans attacked the front gate! Lured out our people there! They got past the mines! Everyone is saying they planted their own! We need to–" He was cut off as more explosions rocked the world around them, this time from within the compound itself. He stood transfixed with the other man before his brain caught up to the reality of the situation.
The humans–the same damned humans who had no right to be here or fight as hard as they had–were shelling them! The humans were shelling them! He gripped his disruptor rifle tightly and sprinted for the nearest bit of cover he saw. The man who had been with him hadn't been so lucky. He and several others disappeared in a blast that left Krell's skin turning red from the heat.
"This isn't right, this isn't right, this isn't right!" he shouted in abject terror, part of him grateful for the fact he was alone in the hiding spot he'd chosen. Another part of him didn't care if someone said his behavior was unbecoming of a soldier of Cardassia. This situation had gone from absurd to insane! Humans, be they of the Federation or no, weren't supposed to fight this hard, they weren't supposed to have giant suits of disruptor resistant armor, they weren't supposed to have equally giant slug throwers, and they weren't supposed to be able to shell a position from outside of visual range!
He debated making a run for the defenses along the perimeter, but he wasn't sure he'd make it through the maelstrom happening outside his tiny shelter. His legs felt weak and shook, and he'd lost sight of anyone else nearby, part of him wondered if everyone else in his near six hundred strong unit but him was dead. This was disproved when he saw another group moving along the building, trying to avoid the incoming fire, but still he couldn't bring himself to join them. He made to get up but his legs wouldn't cooperate, and just when he thought about crawling out of his hiding place, he heard a roar, one different from the artillery. It was voices, angry ones, furious ones, augmented by speaker systems to be louder and carry further than they otherwise would have.
He didn't need to see what was happening to know what it was. The noise was all around, even over the roar of the artillery, it was all around the compound. The humans, likely in those monstrous suits, had encircled them. He didn't need some glinn to tell him that, the roar of anger was all he needed to know the truth. That it was soon followed by the barks of their demented slug throwers only affirmed this truth.
Another group ran by, a larger one, far larger, perhaps even a platoon of his fellow troopers. Seeing so many of them buoyed his spirits, he stood and made to join them. That was when a trail of fire and a thunder crack landed in the middle of the group, crushing several of them, and causing Krell to drop to the ground again to avoid debris. He looked on in horror; it was one of the humans. They weren't wearing one of those metal suits, but that was because they had a giant flaming jetpack on their back, they were using it to jump around, laughing dementedly the entire time, firing grossly oversized pistols, and they were soon joined by more similarly equipped humans. That was all the reason Krell needed to abandon any idea of getting to the perimeter to aid in the defense.
There was a door nearby, he could see it. It'd been further than his current hiding place to start, but he knew he couldn't stay here. They'd find him eventually, or one of those shells would hit him out of sheer chance. He took a shuddering breath, and bolted up right, sprinting at a speed he never imagined he could manage before, his rifle forgotten even as his hands held it in a death grip.
Shrapnel and shots whirled around him, alongside the screams of his comrades as they tried to react to the attack, but it was all for nothing, he saw that now. They couldn't win this. It wasn't for lack of spirit or equipment, but these people were insane. Their technology was brutish and primitive, and yet it was having an effect their disruptors and mortars had failed to engender. Their ships had bombarded the surface of this world, and still they fought, intent on, if not winning, then spilling as much blood as possible it seemed. He heard an angry shout behind him, it was one of the humans, he knew that, but didn't dare turn to look back. He was close to the door, so close.
There was a roar of one of those packs, and he was sent falling backwards, shrapnel cutting his hands and face. It was one of the madmen, towering over him, their monstrous weapons held high. Krell did the one thing he never thought a Cardassian would do, let alone he himself would do. He threw down his rifle and raised his hands, hoping the madmen would recognize the sign for what it was, and he wasn't sure what to make of the human cocking their head to the side at the gesture.
Konnie, Communications Center
Stardate 44099.0
1115 local time
Much to his own surprise, Worf found he did not much mind being in the colonist APC, at least at first. Yes, it was cramped, but so to were the conditions on most Klingon vessels. Yes, it was stuffy with over a dozen men and women cramped into the small place, but a Klingon barracks was much the same way. It wasn't even the motely look of those in the APC with him, including his own team. Certainly, the look of the colonial armor layered over Starfleet uniforms was a strange juxtaposition, and the colonists themselves certainly fit the look of a ramshackle group.
One man had no armor on his non-dominant arm, another had no shirt on beneath his chest plate and he carried a flamethrower of all things. That particular weapon, he had claimed, was salvaged from what he called an old "firebat" suit. Worf was not particularly sure he wanted to know more details based on the weapon and name alone. Another man had cut the sleeves off his shirt, and attached a small mechanical rig to his armor to help him heft some sort of heavy weapon that looked far too large for its apparent classification as a light machine gun.
None of this had bothered Worf. Rather, it had been the fact that old Johan had simply not shut up the entire time, waxing on about things that Worf either had no context for, sounded nonsensical to him, or both and even the fighting outside had not drowned him out. At this point Worf was almost eager to disembark from the transport. It came as a relief as the vehicle trundled to a stop.
"We're here, my friends! Thank you for choosing Johan public transport! Please be aware the weather outside is hot with a chance of death!" He cackled at his own morbid joke, and Worf was all too happy to be one of the first people off the madman's transport.
He and the other three security officers made their way over to what he was fairly sure was one a hastily erected Cardassian bunker of some description. The rest of the colonists fanned out to their own cover, but thankfully, despite the cacophony all around them, the Cardassians seemed to have been handedly pushed back from the main gates. This left an avenue of advance clear up to the main doors.
Or rather it would have been had four of the colonial marines not gone barreling past, one of them shouting, "Gang way! Comin' through!" as they sprinted by. Worf would have given a derisive frown had they not immediately stacked up on the doors, opened them and began drawing fire from Cardassians inside that would have almost certainly caught his team off guard. The marine never even got the chance to return fire.
Near immediately after the doors opened, a large, screaming beam of energy lanced through the opening, and one of the marines was struck by it. They fell backwards, their armor crashing against the ground, and lay still, even as disruptor shots sparked off their armor. A massive glowing hole in their armor's chest highlighted where they'd been struck.
Judging by the thrum that was audible over the sounds of the colonists' weapons, combined with how the three survivors were backing away from the opening, there were more than just infantry portable weapons waiting beyond the doors. "Fuck! They got a heavy in there!" And that just confirmed it. Getting around an entrenched position inside of a building, even with explosives at hand, was not going to be easy by any metric.
One of the colonists, the one with the flamethrower, tapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, sir, I've got this," and before Worf could react the man was dashing off headlong into danger, a look of determined anger on his face. "Hey, clunkers!" he shouted to the other men. "Get your grenades ready!" Worf could only scowl and order the others forward, the man would assuredly die without any support.
As they approached, he could see the marines had already primed and were in the process of throwing grenades into the building. Part of him sincerely hoped they weren't about to damage something of significance. First came the usual deafening bangs of these fragmentation devices, followed by some screams and then the man with the flamethrower stepped through the door, roaring angrily as he bathed who and whatever was inside in fire.
Somehow, the renewed screams were louder than the battle around him.
As he and the others neared the entryway, the screams almost drowned out the smell of burning flesh, almost, but not quite. Several Cardassians, burning alive from whatever it was they'd been dosed in, burst through the doorway, screaming, paying no heed to the man with the flamethrower or the marines near to him. They were cut down by the lighter militia in short order. All things considered, Worf realized, it was probably the more merciful outcome. His ensigns didn't seem to realize this though, one of them looking like they were caught between a panic attack and having to vomit. He had to give the other two credit where it was due however, despite their clear disgust, they managed to keep it in check, as any warrior worth their mettle should.
All the same, he grabbed one of the militia and pushed them towards the ensign who was clearly trying not to panic. "You, stay with them and keep them safe. The rest of us will handle the Cardassians." They waited for the sound of power packs cooking off to subside for a time before they stormed the entrance, the militia marines going in first, shooting anything that still moved. Part of him was thankful for that. Even with the other two ensigns keeping things together, he wasn't sure they'd end a Cadassian in such a state, even if it was arguably more merciful.
He didn't want to admit it, but part of him wondered if he could do the same himself. Battle was one thing, but this was like nothing from the old tales. The more he saw and thought about it, the less this resembled a battle Klingons would recognize as a clash of warriors and ideals. It more resembled the mechanized wars that Humans and Vulcans had once fought among themselves in terms of the means and ferocity. For a reason he didn't understand, that sat ill with him, but he couldn't help but see the need for it here, and his respect for the colonists only grew. They were willing to still fight it despite what the Cardassians had already visited upon their world. He'd heard of colonies of Romulans or some Federation members surrendering over much less.
From the entryway, clearing the building became a blur of violence and noise. Quick, brutal firefights punctuated one moment while the next was punctuated by tension he'd not felt since the battle with the Borg some months before. The Cardassians further in were not as entrenched as those in the entrance; some even surrendered once they realized what had happened to their fellows, much to his shock. But not all of them
Nearing the central area of the station, a fusillade of disruptor bolts greeted them in the lobby outside of the control room. One of the other ensigns and two of the militia were unfortunate enough to be hit, all of them being knocked down and back by the barrage. Worf could see one militiaman's arm was badly burned. The marines with them didn't let the offense stand for long though. The Cardassians were brave, yes, but they were just fighting to delay at this point, not win. Thankfully for the wounded, they would all live, providing that they received medical attention in time.
By the time they got to the heart and mind of the station, the few defenders left in the room either died quickly, or surrendered even faster once they saw the fight was hopeless. The Cardassians had somehow managed to marry some of their larger jammers to the colonial equipment, although perhaps "marry" was too strong a word. In some cases the connectors had been welded in, others held in with adhesive, and on a deeper technical level he wasn't sure how it worked. His best conjecture was that it just flowed any and all frequencies and channels with as much noise as possible. Jamming, he reminded himself, did not have to be intricate. A brute method could just as effectively achieve the same results.
Just as quickly though, the hacked together system was undone when a combination of the marines and his phaser acting as a cutting tool disconnected the Cardassian equipment, but it certainly put up a fight. "Lieutenant Worf to Commander Riker," he allowed himself a small surge of joy when the hail went through. "Sir, we've disabled the Cardassian jamming. We must inform the Enterprise of the situation, immediately."
Enterprise-D, Bridge
Stardate 44099.0
1200 Shipboard time
The chime of an incoming transmission echoed around the bridge. "Incoming hail from the planet, Captain," Data reported, "It is Commander Riker, sir. It would appear the jamming the Cardassians had put in place has been disabled, and the colony's distress signal has been resumed." Picard almost leapt out of his chair, breathing a sigh of relief. Riker was alive, it was the first good news he'd gotten since they arrived in this system.
"Will!" Despite his best efforts, some of his joy showed through his professional demeanor. "It's good to hear from you, what's happening down there?" He gestured for Data to put the transmission through to Mister Grigsby, just in case whatever colonists on the planet needed further reassurance from one of their own.
"Captain!" Picard's half smile fell. Riker's tone was beyond urgent. "Captain, you have to get the Enterprise out of here! The Cardassians have nine additional ships, I don't know, either hiding in or near the system! I repeat, the Cardassians have twelve ships in total!" The bridge fell silent, even the console seemed to cease their myriad sounds. "The colonists are severely outnumbered, Captain. By their estimates they're up against over ten thousand Cardassian troops. I've got Marshal Wilks here; I'm putting him through now." There was a pause.
"Captain Picard," the new voice was similar to Grigsby, at least in terms of the drawl, but it sounded like the man was a heavy smoker, "this is Marshal Wilks, damn good to be hearing from you. I appreciate the assistance you and your people have given us, captain, but I don't think we can win this fight. We can make the bastards pay for every bit of land with buckets of blood, but even if we can keep the fabricators fed for making munitions, the simple fact of the matter is we're just too sorely outnumbered. The Cardassians, that's what they are according to your man, will pull a win eventually through attrition, captain. We're just a frontier colony with some more recent gear and thirty plus year old surplus. We don't have the numbers to win a fight like this even with what we got, especially once they control the orbitals again."
There was another pause as Wilks audibly sighed. "Captain, your people have taken casualties. One dead they couldn't recover and one critical despite the best efforts of our docs. He needs more than low-grade nanomeds and painkillers, and we can't spare what high-grade we got left. I advise that you call a truce so you can get your people out of here, captain. There ain't any other way they're getting through this." Picard's hands balled into fists, he could feel his ire rising. He'd been powerless against the Borg, but he wasn't here, he knew that. There was still a chance to save these people, and he was not going to turn tail and run.
"Your council is noted, Marshal Wilks, Commander Riker. I suggest you do what you can to prepare if the additional Cardassian vessels are on their way back to the system. The Enterprise won't be going anywhere," his jaw was set and his tone firm. "Commander Data, open a channel to Gul Nantil's ship, audio and visual. I want to have a word with him." Wordlessly, Data complied. Nantil's image soon occupied the viewscreen, and he was still wearing that bastard of a smile.
"Ah, Captain Picard…you seem quite vexed by something. I must say the look doesn't suit you, Jean-Luc," his tone was still cordial, not quite mocking, but Picard now understood why the man had acted so superior from the start. It hadn't just been arrogance, even as the Gul mock searched his features.
"Ah…let me guess, you sent a force down to the planet, and now your people on the ground and the colonists have told you about my other ships. Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time. You and your people's reputation is well earned it would seem. Tell me though, Picard, what chance do you think you really have? Against three cruisers I have no doubt the Enterprise would emerge victorious, but twelve?" His smile grew dark, malignant. "It is simple mathematics, captain. I am bringing firepower proportional to your reputation."
"Gul Nantil, allow me to be very clear. You could have the entire Cardassian navy coming to your aid and I would not back down even then." Even Nantil leaned back a bit, a flicker of surprise running through him and the bridge crew. Picard's voice was like steel. "I am not going to abandon these people who have been twice victimized, first in all likelihood by Q, and now you and your forces. You are courting war with not just the Federation but the people who now call this region of space home. Do you think your superiors will be so eager to fight a war on two fronts?" Nantil's own features hardened. He would not let Picard beat him at his own game.
"Picard, we both know the Federation won't get reinforcements out here any time soon. We both know you are alone, and even if the Enterprise is destroyed, I doubt your government will act to take any modicum of vengeance, even if certain elements of it and Starfleet push for action. After all, why endanger the peace more than it already has been? And if you think I am at all afraid of what the people of this region can bring against us in space, you are sorely mistaken. I may have lost three ships, the capabilities of their own being unexpected, but I am more than confident Cardassia would win a protracted war." There was a chuckle, and then a laugh, and annoyance and confusion took hold of Nantil's features. "Who is this?"
"Samuel Grigsby, scavenger extraordinaire!" The man's voice was ripe with mirth and mockery in equal measure. "And if you think some old Valkyries that were over two decades old, without even half the stuff that goes into a modern escort, was the best we got, then I've got a Leviathan to sell you!" Grigsby chuckled a bit more, he couldn't see Nantil's face, but he could certainly imagine the look on it. "Hey, Picard, I was getting ready to say I wouldn't blame you if you took your people and cut and run. This wasn't your fight to begin with, but you've got guts, and I've got a pristine version of the colony's distress signal on my ship." Both the Enterprise and the Barakna detected a power surge on Grigsby's ship.
"Mister Grigsby," Picard's words were slow and deliberate, "what are you intending?" Although he was fairly certain he knew what the scavenger was about to try, and that Nantil did as well, the anger evident on the Gul's face becoming more evident as Grigsby's ship veered away.
"Stop that ship!" Nantil shouted into his communicator. One of the Cardassian ships opened fire on Grigsby's. That was all the excuse Picard needed. He turned to the Andorian officer at the weapons console.
"Fire phasers and torpedoes!" Picard felt the strum of the phasers discharging and the clunk of photon torpedoes being launched. They struck the offending Cardassian ship, even as a shot from it grazed Grigsby's own, even as it jumped into the anomaly it had created, damaged but intact. The Cardassian vessel had not been so fortunate, erupting in a fireball as the phasers traced across its shields and hull, hitting the weapons control system before the torpedoes struck home. Whether it was the torpedoes themselves or a power plant breach that had killed the ship, Picard was not sure, but he would see the officer rewarded appropriately for his aim, and he hoped Nantil had gotten the message.
"Now, Gul Nantil, perhaps you might reconsider your position," Picard allowed himself a small smirk, especially at Nantil's clear annoyance.
"This changes nothing, Picard. My ships will be here within the hour. I can afford to continue this standoff, and even though I do not wish to destroy the Enterprise and end the illustrious career of her captain with it, I will do so. The destruction of one ship is not a great loss to Cardassia. Even with the scavenger having escaped, he won't reach anywhere meaningful in time to save you or this colony!" Data cut the audio without prompting, earning him a quizzical look from Picard.
"Actually, sir," Data's tone was cool as always, but Picard thought there was almost something approaching satisfaction in the android's voice, "I believe the Gul's hypothesis is in error. Having observed the anomaly that precedes Mister Grigsby's ship every time he initiates or exits faster than light travel four times now, I believe I have the information needed to create a plausible hypothesis of my own. He beat the Enterprise here by a slim margin, and I believe he intentionally slowed his ship down for our benefit and for his own protection. It is my belief that Mister Grigsby's ship is in fact performing a form of theoretical transwarp jump, in this case facilitated by his vessel entering subspace, at least in part. In effect, depending on the power of his drive and reactor, Mister Grigsby may be headed towards more heavily populated space, even with the damage done to his ship."
Picard allowed himself a smile as confusion played over Gul Nantil's features.
The Mariposa, unnamed system
March 3, 2528, Koprulu Terran Calendar
1256 Shipboard time
Grigsby breathed calmly and shallowly in his armor, doing what he could to preserve his precious life support reserves. That shot had clipped his ship and knocked out several systems, life support included, and unfortunately for him, his warp drive had been damaged. He had little choice but to drop out, but he was still a good distance from Konnie, several systems over, and he was broadcasting both his own distress call and that of the colony. All he had to do was wait, and just maybe stay alive. His armor kept track of time for him, but it soon became meaningless, drifting dead in space like this. He simply kept his eyes closed and focused on his breathing. In and out, calm and shallow.
After several hours had passed his sensors produced an alert. He opened his eyes. There was an inbound FTL signature, a large one, multiple large ones. He looked to his visual sensors in the area of space his ship was estimating the arrival of whatever vessels these were. A rift into warp space appeared there, larger than any his ship could hope to produce, far larger, and then another appeared next to it. When he saw what emerged, he laughed, his life support reserves be damned, he laughed madly.
Enterprise-D, Bridge
Stardate 44099.0
1630 Shipboard time
As had perhaps become the norm, the Enterprise and her crew were once again staring death in the face. Gul Nantril's estimate on the arrival of his ships had been somewhat inaccurate, not that it had mattered. The Gul now had eleven battle ready cruisers arrayed against the Enterprise. Despite his threats and the prior destruction of the one cruiser, Picard wasn't sure if the Gul was holding back due to either a fear of provoking the Federation by openly destroying its flagship, or if it was because of his own ego. The man seemed to have, despite it all, enjoyed exchanging barbs with the Enterprise and her captain. 'I'll sit here for as long as need be, Nantil, one of us has to make the first move.'
If he could keep Nantil stalled, despite his overwhelming advantage, it gave Grigsby more time to arrive somewhere that help may hear the distress signal; it gave more time for that help to arrive. He wasn't sure what form it would take if it did, perhaps it would amount to nothing, but Grigsby and the colonists had to have come from somewhere, and no nation in this age was without ships that were combat capable. A hail came from Nantil's ship. He had it put through, if only because keeping Nantil talking also worked to his advantage.
"Picard, I'll admit, your steadfastness in the face of eleven Cardassian vessels is impressive. I don't think any Starfleet captain during the war would have made such a stand," he smiled again. "But come now, you have to see reason at this point. Your scavenger friend did not succeed, even if he made a successful escape. There is no help coming for you, Picard. If you agree to leave now, I will allow you to retrieve whatever personnel you have down on the planet, and I will let you go without further harassment. You have my word on that." Picard's eyes narrowed. Nantil's word was never going to be good enough.
"And what guarantee, beyond your word, do I have that the moment the Enterprise lowers her shields to transport up the away team you won't just open fire? You insult my intelligence, Gul Nantil," he shot back with a small smile, using the Cardassian's own prior words against him. "That is clearly beneath you. Perhaps if your ships pulled back to a reasonable distance, say between Konnie and one of the system's gas giants, I may be convinced to trust your word then."
Nantil's own eyes narrowed briefly before his smile returned. The man was incredibly controlled, but Picard had to give him credit there. "Unfortunately, Captain Picard that is not a reasonable request in this instance, my ships are needed for our troops on the ground. As they are currently engaged with the forces of these unaligned colonists, I would be derelict in my duty as an officer of the Cardassian military if I were to assent to such a request," he paused, turning to his nearest glinn. "Have all ships ready shields and weapons. I am unsure that the good captain will assent to a withdrawal on his part."
As Picard began to formulate a response, a chime sounded across both bridges. Their sensors had detected something. The two men looked at each other a moment, mutually confused as to what was happening.
"Captain," Data started slowly, "the sensors are detecting the formation of several variants of the anomaly Grigsby ship generates, including some that are several factors larger."
Gul Nantil voiced the thoughts of everyone who had heard the declaration with a single word: "Impossible!" He turned to check his own scanners, and yet even as he did so, the expression of shock on his face only grew. Somehow, the Starfleet officer wasn't lying. He turned to view where the anomalies were forming, and found some traitorous part of himself was wondering if this had all been worth it.
What emerged first were ships lead by one that in some way resembled the massive hammerhead vessels they'd found in the debris field, albeit far smaller in scale, and the hulls were made of fewer hard angles, and were more organically curved. The ships had a predominately white color scheme, oddly not unlike that of Federation vessels in some respects. In total there was the hammerhead, alongside it several more vaguely arrowhead shaped vessels, but four of them were more noticeably angular were the others had more organic curves to their design. There was also a single one that looked more like a miniature mobile station than any sort of military vessel. "Sensors have scanned the new contacts, captain. The largest vessel is estimated to be one-point-two kilometers in length, second largest about five hundred meters, and the smaller vessels at roughly one hundred meters," reported Data.
What emerged from the second rift though was even larger than anything in the first group. It was unlike the hammerheads. Instead, it was a giant, elongated ship with an almost skeletal appearance. The back had a small tower structure above the large engine with two swept wings protruding on the sides protecting it. Both these wings had what looked like large beam weapons mounted on them, but that was conjecture. The main body reminded Picard of a spine, the "ribs" of the ship festooned with what were clearly weapons, and two massive cannons mounted near to the prow glowed with an ominous light. The sensors estimated it at being between three and four kilometers long at the current distance. Alongside it were smaller hammerheads, six in total and more angular than the preceding one. The larger of the group were of the same size of the more organically curved variant, with the other four being estimated at eight hundred meters in length.
"Captain," it was Data again, but even he sounded unsure as to the situation now. "There are transmissions coming in across all frequencies, they are being transmitted in order of arrival." Picard simply nodded to put them through.
"This is Commodore Mariela Reid, Umojan Navy to all unknown vessels! You are to stand down immediately and cease all hostile action in the space surrounding or on the planet designated Konnie! Failure to do so will be considered an act of war and you will be fired upon and boarded!" The woman's voice was stern, powerful. She was clearly a seasoned veteran; she carried that air in her voice alone.
"This is Commodore Stuart Brownrigg, Raynor's Raiders, commanding from the Gorgon-class RSS Mar Sara's Shield. I would advise that you listen to Commodore Reid, or don't. It would certainly make this shakedown cruise more interesting." The man was almost lax in a sense, but there was no mistaking his implicit threat, if it was even necessary given the titan he commanded. Picard had no doubt that if he was provoked, this Brownrigg would use the full power of his vessel to bring any fight to a swift end.
Gul Nantil, Picard, and their bridge crews stared at the assembled vessels, transfixed for a moment. To see ships of such scale functioning in any capacity was unheard of, even accounting for the debris field the Enterprise had found. That the largest of them was apparently on a shakedown cruise perhaps said volumes about the mentality of the people who had built it.
Nantil visibly had to steady himself, and reign in his emotions. "Send the retreat signal to our forces on the surface! I want all ships to move out at full impulse power and make ready for warp travel!" His officers hesitated, and he turned his ire upon them. "Do any of you think we can fight those behemoths out there with what we have on hand? Signal the retreat."
Gul Nantil looked to Picard. He swallowed carefully. There was fear in his eyes, but also anger at being bested, and yet there was something else, something Picard could not place. "It would seem you've won this round, Picard. I hope our next meeting is as interesting as this." Nantil terminated the call without another word, his cruisers coming about and fleeing at maximum impulse.
"Mister Data, open a channel to Commodores Reid and Brownrigg, I think it is time we clear things up," he took a breath to steady himself as Data did so. "Commodore Reid, Commodore Brownrigg, this is Captain Jean-Luc Picard, commanding the USS Enterprise. Your timing could not have been more punctual. On behalf of my crew, your arrival was most fortuitous." A chuckle came back over the line from Brownrigg.
"Don't thank us, captain. Thank your scavenger friend."
"Hey, Picard," it was Grigsby, and to his own surprise, Jean-Luc found himself smiling. "I called in the fleet. Sorry for any scare on your part, but I figured these Cardie bastards could use some shock and awe."
Imperial Palace, Valerian's office, Korhal
March 3, 2528, Koprulu Terran Calendar
2235 local time
It was hardly unusual for the emperor of the Dominion to be working well into the evening, even though he was certain his advisors, doctors and, most of all, his wife would give him an earful for it. It wasn't that he had any disdain for his own health or wellbeing, although given some of his past actions, like asking things of Sarah Kerrigan before she ascended, others would dispute that assertion. The crux of the issue simply was that he was very hands on, and when there was a problem that caught his attention he often threw himself into fixing it.
'And right now, I have more issues stacking up than I can fix,' he frowned. It was hardly a new experience for him, but given the circumstances, part of him couldn't help but conjure shades of the End War. 'Not least because of this most recent report from a detachment of Raiders on the fringe.' Reading over the report for the third time, he still had some difficulty believing it despite all he'd seen in his life. That the Raiders had been executing anti-piracy operations on the Dominion's southern fringe against Kel-Morian pirates wasn't new. Directly funded and equipped by or at least associated with the Kel-Morians, such groups were always forming somewhere.
What made this report standout was the description of a blinding pulse of energy that swept over the planet, and the subsequent effects. There was nothing new there regarding the pulse, all of inhabited space had experienced something to that effect with the activation of the still ill understood Xel'Naga artifact. What was perhaps more concerning was the fact that according to the commodore in charge, the planet had been altered, some changes to local environs had been noted, but the biggest addition was that of an unknown third faction. Said faction was described as "big, four-armed, alien turtles with a preference for heavy weapons and fortifications."
That as of yet no means of talking to them had been discovered was not surprising to Valerian. However, if they suddenly had even a single new neighbor, which this report and the noise detected outside the sector seemed to point to it begged the question of how they proceeded from here. 'Preferably while avoiding war,' his frown deepened, but he was dragged from his thoughts as the door to his office opened. There entered Egon Stetman, grayed like many of the older Raiders, but still a genius in his own right, eccentric as he was.
"Egon," he said softly, forcing a slight smile onto his lips, "what world shattering scientific revelation have you brought me this evening I wonder?" Stetman looked oddly sheepish, not something he'd have ever called the man for all the years Valerian had known him.
"Well, sir, it's concerning the pulse, the one unleashed by the Xel'Naga artifact," he paused, waiting for Valerian's assent before he continued. "We're still gathering data, but we think the effect spread well beyond the fringe where the artifact was located, sir, well beyond. I know that the core worlds of…well, everyone, even the Protoss, are reporting the same phenomena, sir, and I know I'm saying this with incomplete data as my source, but I think the pulse affected more than just the Koprulu sector as we know it." Valerian leaned back in his chair, gripping the arm rests, his eyes narrowed as he processed this information.
"Egon, how far did that pulse spread?"
Starfleet Headquarters, Earth
Stardate 44099.0
1840 local time
Rear Admiral Tobias Kershaw found himself wondering who he'd pissed off to be assigned to a matter that may have involved Q of all beings. Certainly, he agreed that the matter regarding the mysterious energy pulse had to be investigated, but he wondered what he'd done to warrant being aside to it. The reports coming in were…concerning, to say the least. The unfortunate young lieutenant from Starfleet Intelligence standing nearby in silent terror as he read the reports was a testament to that.
First there was the matter of Kelten Five, a near frontier world where the local security forces had found themselves in a tense standoff with an unknown psychic alien in dark colored armor and a cloak, armed with energy blades. The good thing was that the situation had at least somewhat deescalated once the alien realized most of the locals were human, or "Terrans" as the alien had called them, but that just added an additional layer of confusion and questions. How had a totally unknown species known about humans, and just humans out of the entirety of the Federation? And why had they used a name more befitting the mirror universe empire? Unfortunately, the alien left in what appeared to be a puff of black smoke before proper contact could be established.
Next came a report from Meniyo, a fringe colony that had, according to the report, been under attack from a Breen raiding force, and then after the energy discharge, found themselves getting some…very unexpected help. Namely, the help came in the form of what seemed to be a literal Godzilla of a monster, the creature being a giant reptilian with an almost stegosaurus-like back, complete with armored plating. It was gargantuan in size, by his estimate being larger than even the currently in development Danube-class runabouts. He rewatched the video recording again, just to be sure.
The creature sounded furious, near frenzied, and although he never considered himself one to shy away from a fight or the gruesome details of such, even he felt a pang of sympathy for the attacking Breen. He wasn't sure anyone deserved to die in the ways he was seeing. The creature was savaging them with oversized claws and a mouth that looked like it could bite a shuttle in half.
The thing roared angrily, and nothing the Breen were throwing at it seemed to work, not even setting their rifles to the highest power output did more give the thing some second-degree burns at worst. He thought the Breen fought as well as they could, but it didn't help them, no matter how many times he rewatched the footage. The creature was too large, to powerful, and faster than it had any right to be. It was far beyond what the Breen could counter. He looked to the young lieutenant.
"Son," he started slowly, "is there anything else Starfleet Intelligence would care to share with me?" The young man gulped.
"Just one thing, sir, something my superiors thought shouldn't be on an official report outside secured servers and devices. We're still analyzing the data, sir, but we have reason to believe that, whatever Q did, it affected more than just an area of the frontier. We've been seeing reports of…odd crystal and gas formations in spots across the Alpha Quadrant, not just the Federation. There's no pattern yet, and again most of it is contained to the frontier or fringes where known inhabited space is confirmed. There have been some reports from mid-worlds and none from the core territories, but…" he trailed off, and Tobias had to put on his best motivational glare.
"S-sorry, sir," the young man stammered out. "This hasn't just affected the Federation, sir, or space near to it. We think it's affected us, the Cardassians, the Tzenkethi, and many others. But more than that…the researchers think this went far beyond that territory, Admiral. They think the pulse and subsequent changes may have affected the entirety of the Alpha Quadrant."
Thanks to Follower38 , Myuu , Kisame12794 for beta reading as always and special thanks to knolden for joining my beta readers and helping me just make this entire chapter better. I hope you all enjoy.
Oh I know this chapter was supposed to be shorter. It is. By about 2k words. So between the last two chapters in terms of legnth so...technically true? Also for those of you who wanted Tzenkethi around, among other things, you've got your wish.
Oh and to the person asking if the Zerg would be a thing...yes. What sort of fic would this be if I didn't have the Swarm around? Just because Zagara is advocating for peace and nurturing life now doesn't mean the Swarm has lost its fangs.