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Star Tron: Louder Than Words
Chapter 10: Let the Battle Be Joined
The next morning, Lieutenant Junior-Grade Michael Curtis walked into the briefing room for the daily senior staff meeting. But today, something was different. All night, crews from the CST's had been hurriedly finishing their work, while the Berlin's crewmen made their ship ready to sail. Something big was about to happen, and as soon as he walked into the room, he knew he was right.
Captain Driscoll stood at the end of the room near the large viewscreen, which displayed a chart of the Denubian Galaxy. The Captain had traded his standard uniform for a pilot's jumpsuit. It looked like the duty uniform, except that it was a one-piece affair, with hard rings around the cuffs, ankles, and collar which provided a low-power forcefield around the gloves, flight boots, and helmet. This would create an airtight seal on the uniform in the event of an ejection into vacuum. It, like the standard uniform, was black, but the gray shoulder mantle extended all the way down the sleeves, and the left shoulder bore the patch of the Starfleet Fighter Corps, and the right sported the emblem of the United Federation of Planets. Above his combadge, Driscoll wore his silver wings, and below it was a patch resembling the Lion keys of the Voltron Force. Beside Driscoll stood Admiral Nechayev and Commander Keith.
When everyone was seated, Driscoll began the briefing. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Usually, you guys give me the lowdown on what's happening on the ship. But today, I'm doing the talking. Today, we're going to fly our first combat mission of the Drule War. Codename: Operation Doolittle."
At this, there was a murmur of surprise and satisfaction, Gredar grunted, and Scott mumbled, "About bloody time."
Driscoll smiled. "Our target is the Doom shipyard at Centa, in the Tourmaline System. Our objective is to put the shipyard out of action, and destroy as many ships as we can."
Now, the chart zoomed in to show the Tourmaline System, and then again to show the shipyard complex orbiting Centa. It was a sprawling, spidery complex with six main branches radiating from a central hub. Each branch supported six berths with ships in various stages of construction of refit.
"Our course will take us across a significant portion of Doom space. It's very likely we'll encounter other ships. To minimize the risk of interception, we will maintain warp 9 throughout our ingress and egress."
Keith was the next to speak, providing information on the shipyard, including sensor blind spots, defenses, and soft points. Doom had become complacent of late, and there were only a few heavy laser cannons defending the installation. With so little threat to their bases, the Doom and Drule Empires weren't investing in defensive systems the way they used to. And they were about to pay the price for their arrogance.
Once Keith had presented the intelligence briefing, Driscoll took over and outlined the plan of attack. The Berlin would make three passes on the target. On the first, they would use two of their quantum torpedoes to disable the central hub, which contained the command, control, and power modules. On the next pass, they'd use standard photon torpedoes to break up the structure. The final pass would be a clean up, targeting the ships and any structural elements that remained intact after the first two passes.
"On the way home," said Driscoll, "we'll attack targets of opportunity. Whatever seems worth the trouble, we'll make one pass, do what we can, and continue on. Are there any questions?"
"What about robeasts?" Singh asked.
"It's not likely you'll see one," said Keith. "Each robeast is made to order, and takes quite a while to prepare. Lotor usually saves them for us."
After a moment, Nechayev stepped forward. "Two weeks ago, Lotor made the mistake of trying to frighten us away. Despite our attempts at a peaceful resolution, he attacked us. Today, you will show him what he's gotten himself into. You came to this dimension as the Federation's olive branch. Now, you are its sword. I wish you good luck, and good hunting."
"Departure stations, people," said Driscoll. "Let's kick it into gear."
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At the Doom shipyard orbiting Centa, Commander Rolkan made the rounds of the control center. Everything was as it had been for months. Nothing out of the ordinary. The only thing that changed was the status of the ships under construction or refit.
He'd become used to the routine, and enjoyed it. It was a nice, quiet life. He'd never earn any medals, but he could look forward to a long, safe career. He'd seen the lot of the front-line commanders, and didn't envy them. Honor and glory were hardly adequate compensation for getting your rear end chewed off by a giant robotic lion!
He retired to his office to review the daily reports, and had just settled in at his desk when the sensor operator paged him. "What is it?" he asked.
"Sir, I have an unidentified contact, approaching at high speed. I think you should see this."
Rolkan went out to the command center, and found the sensor operator struggling to identify the new object. It was a ship with a large disk in front, a semi-cylindrical hull, and two long engines mounted on outrigger pylons. "What is that?"
"Unknown."
"Stand by defenses. Full alert."
As the alarms blared around him and the defensive systems powered up, Rolkan studied the data on the new ship, and suddenly got a very bad feeling.
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"Approaching target, sir," Mordock announced.
"Slow to impulse power. Prepare for first attack run." Driscoll ordered.
The Berlin drew nearer to the base, but still there was no response. Driscoll rose and walked up behind Singh. "Put me on intercom."
Singh touched a control on her panel. "Ready."
"All hands, this is the Captain. You're probably all wondering what we're doing. Our mission is to attack and destroy a Doom shipyard in retaliation for the attack on the U.S.S. Farallon. At this time, I am ordering all hands to battle stations. I repeat, all hands, man your battle stations. It's payback time."
The channel closed, and Driscoll returned to his seat.
"All decks report ready, sir," said Singh.
Driscoll studied the base intently. "Commander Jacobs," he said, "Lock quantum torpedoes on target."
Jacobs executed her orders. "Quantum torpedoes locked on target."
"Load tubes one and two, stand by to fire," Driscoll barked in a sharp staccato.
"Tubes one and two loaded and ready, sir!" Jacobs replied in the same rhythm.
Driscoll watched as the shipyard loomed larger. Suddenly, the space around the starship filled with murderous yellow energy bolts, but the Berlin flew on. The lasers struck the shields forcefully, rocking the vessel. "Fire one!"
"One away," Jacobs replied, launching the torpedo.
"Fire two!"
"Two away!" Jacobs replied. The entire bridge crew watched the two blue fireballs streak toward the shipyard.
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Rolkan stared in disbelief. This strange ship had just flown straight into the teeth of his defenses. Over a dozen lazon weapons, the finest Doom had, were hammering on it at full power, but the ship kept coming.
Then, as the ship closed in, it fired two shots, the blue weapons closing quickly. He glanced down at the sensor panel one last time as it finally displayed the ship's identification, and looked up just in time to see a fireball tear through the wall in front of him and engulf the control room in flames.
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The torpedoes tore into the central hub, one high, one low, and the lasers stopped firing. "Direct hits," Mordock announced. "Main power is down, and I'm reading extensive damage on all levels.
Driscoll grinned. "Excellent. Come around for the second pass. Load photon torpedoes and target the arms."
"They're broadcasting a distress call," Jacobs warned.
"Jam it. Phasers, target their comm array, fire at will."
As the ship came around, the phasers lashed out, crimson beams shredding the antenna array.
The Berlin surged forward, closing in. "Target in range," said Jacobs.
"Fire."
"Torpedoes away," Jacobs replied.
Six photon torpedoes shot rapid-fire from the Berlin's launch tubes, each one striking a docking arm, cutting it from the hub and ripping it apart in a firestorm. The force of the explosion sent the hub spinning away, a comet-tail of debris streaming behind it. Pieces of the arms banged around, smashing into ships, tearing pieces away as worker droids tried to get out of the way.
By now, the Berlin had come around and begun shooting at the ships. Some of which remained moored to the drifting arms, but many had broken loose. The powerless, damaged, unshielded ships were quickly torn asunder by the starship's phasers.
Suddenly, Mordock announced, "Doom fighters, bearing one-seven-four."
"How many?" Gredar asked.
"Six."
Driscoll looked at his first officer. "I'll take them. You finish up here."
"Aye, sir," Gredar replied.
As the Captain entered the turbolift, he called to Singh, "Maria, have the shuttlebay ready my plane, anti-fighter load out."
"Yes, sir," Singh replied as Driscoll disappeared into the turbolift.
Gredar examined the viewer. Most of the vessels were already destroyed, either directly by the Berlin's phasers or as a result of collisions with wreckage. In truth, he was shocked at how easily it had gone. The Gorn had expected they'd have to fight their way in and out.
He watched as Driscoll took out the first fighter with a head-on firing pass, then came around and used and antimatter-armed, guided HVAR rocket to destroy a second.
As he was coming around on a third, two others swooped in on his tail, lasers blazing. "Commander," said Gredar.
"I see them," Jacobs replied. A moment later, Driscoll's tail was cleared by two precision strikes of the ship's phasers.
"Thanks, T.J.," Driscoll said. He line up on his target and fired his phasers, scoring hits on the engine and tail. The fighter disintegrated in a ball of flame.
"Where's the last one?" Driscoll asked.
"He fled, sir. Your vector two-nine-seven, range 500,000 kilometers and opening."
"Aw, forget it. Returning to the ship. Set course for Arus, and engage when I land."
"Acknowledged," Gredar replied as Curtis entered the course and speed into the helm.
From the Berlin's arrival to her departure, the attack lasted a total of eight minutes. In that time, the Centa shipyard had been completely destroyed. The Berlin suffered only minor shield damage.
On the way back to Arus, the Berlin encountered several Doom warships, destroying three star cutters and a battleship, and leaving a second battleship and a cruiser disabled.
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"Impossible!" Zarkon bellowed. "The entire base?"
The King of Doom had just learned of the destruction of the Centa shipyard from the pilot of the fighter that fled the battle, and he was furious. There was no excuse for losing the shipyard. The Berlin should have been detected and intercepted. No, she should have been destroyed before she ever had the chance to strike.
"I'm afraid so, My Lord. The ship flew straight through the base's defenses and tore it to pieces. We detected a brief distress call, and my unit was sent to investigate. But it was already too late. We were attacked by a fighter from the ship, which destroyed three of my comrades. Two others fell to the ship."
Zarkon waved to the guards in the corner. "Take him away," he ordered.
After the guards left with the pilot, Lotor and Haggar stepped out of the shadows. "You are an incompetent fool, Lotor," said Zarkon. "All you had to do was destroy the Berlin. One ship. And you failed. Now, we've lost one of our biggest shipyards in the Coral Quadrant."
"But father, you don't understand…"
"Silence! Because of you, the Federation is at war with us. We cannot fend them off. We have nothing powerful enough. One of their ships is worth a score of ours."
"But they have only one, Father," said Lotor.
"What?"
"According to my operatives on Arus, only the Berlin will be assigned. The Federation is at war elsewhere, and that is their main focus. For the foreseeable future, they will have only one ship here."
Zarkon nodded. "That is interesting. It seems you are of some value, after all."
"But don't forget, Sire, even with only one ship, there is still Voltron to deal with," said Haggar.
"I know that, witch. Even with only one ship, combined with Voltron, they are still a powerful threat. We must take measures."
"Yes, father. I will oversee the fortification of our bases myself."
"No. You've done enough, Lotor. You will have your operatives gather all the information they can. Haggar, I want you to begin working on a way to stop Voltron and the Berlin. I'm sure your talents can be of some use."
"Yes, Sire," Haggar replied.
"Now leave me," Zarkon ordered.
Lotor and Haggar left the room, leaving Zarkon to his thoughts. As disgusted as he was with the recent events, he couldn't help but see an opportunity. If Lotor spoke true, then the ship would likely be on restricted duty. That meant that she would be easy to subdue. As for Voltron, if Haggar and Lotor could keep the pressure on with robeast attacks, he too could be kept at Arus.
But still, it would only be a matter of time before the Berlin became more active, and possibly gain reinforcements. If he were to act, he'd need to act soon. But he knew he couldn't do it on his own, even with Haggar's magic. He'd need reinforcements. The problem, he realized, was where to get them.
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After returning to Arus, Driscoll met with Nechayev, Graham and Coran and presented his after-action report. When he finished, Nechayev nodded approvingly. "Well done, Captain. You've exceeded all our expectations for this mission. The operation certainly lived up to its name."
"Indeed," said Space Marshal Graham. "It would have been impossible for one of our vessels to penetrate so far into Doom space and attack a station like that."
"Well, just don't get used to it, Marshal," said Driscoll.
"Excuse me?"
Coran cleared his throat. "I believe the Captain means that after this raid, Zarkon will tighten the defenses of his bases and planetary installations, and likely put more patrols out. We have now shown the ability and will to strike his forces in his own territory, and he will want to prevent that."
"Right," Driscoll agreed. "Those pop guns of theirs aren't much good on their own, but if they attacked en masse, they could get through our shields. And those lazon missiles the cruisers carry are serious."
Nechayev nodded. "That's right. The Berlin will be available to help you, Marshal, but it is Captain Driscoll's discretion on what missions to accept. We can't afford to lose any ships right now, and if the Berlin is lost, it will be a while before she can be replaced."
"I understand, Admiral. And I will arrange support for the missions wherever possible."
"Thank you. Now, if there's nothing else, I suggest we adjourn for the night. We have a big day tomorrow."
"Yes, we do," said Coran.
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The next morning dawned bright and clear. Outside the Castle of Lions, everyone from the surrounding villages had gathered for the signing ceremony.
From the flagpoles, the banners of the Galaxy Alliance, Arus, and the United Federation of Planets flew in the light breeze. Above the crowd, on the balcony overlooking the bridge, a large wooden table had been set up. Seated behind it were Space Marshal Graham, Senators Ulrich and Matheson, Admirals Nechayev and Soval, Councilors White and T'Pren, Coran, Princess Allura, and Captain Driscoll. Behind them stood the Voltron Force, the Senior Staff of the Berlin, the commander of the Starfleet engineering detachment on Arus, and the two ranking survivors of the Farallon.
The treaty was originally to be called the Treaty of Arus, but it was renamed in honor of the two fallen vessels and their crews. T'Pren and Ulrich each gave a brief speech to the gathered masses, and then Coran spoke about the treaty itself. How it was a great step forward for both peoples, allowing for cultural and scientific exchanges, trade, and mutual support, the rewards of which would be reaped for a long time to come by both sides.
Finally, at noon, the Unity/Farallon Accord was signed.
We here, the undersigned, with the full authority invested in us, do hereby agree to and vow to abide by the stipulations of this Accord.
For the United Federation of Planets For the Galaxy Alliance
TPren Georg Ulrich
T'Pren, Federation Council Member Georg Ulrich
Representing the Planet Vulcan Senator of the Galaxy Alliance
Alynna Nechayev Ronald Graham
Fleet Admiral Alynna Nechayev Space Marshal Ronald Graham
Starfleet Commander in Chief Allied Star Fleet
Adam C. Driscoll Allura Altaine
Captain Adam C. Driscoll Princess Allura Altaine
United Federation of Planets Starfleet Ruler of Planet Arus
As Allura and Driscoll set down their pens and the ritual handshaking began, a cheer erupted from the crowd. The people below didn't need fancy words or eloquent speakers to know what the treaty meant. They'd seen it for themselves. They'd seen it in their towns and in the skies. Safety, freedom, and hope for the future. These were things they had longed for, and were finally seeing.
Coran surveyed the scene with satisfaction, shaking the hands that were thrust his way, and muttering diplomatic niceties. Days like this, so full of hope and promise, had been too few for too many years. He, along with everyone else, knew that there was still much to be done. But on that clear Arusian afternoon, with new allies, new hope, and a new vision for the future, everything seemed right with the Universe.
Author's Note: That's it for the second installment of my series. I hope you enjoyed it, and thanks to everyone who read and reviewed, especially RedLion2, T.F. Kit, and Crash77A. I appreciate the support. I'm already working on another story, and this one will focus in more on the VF characters. Stay tuned.