26
"Ferret data confirms PDC report on OpFor assets."
Standing on the flag bridge of the Executor-class Star Dreadnought Lusankya, Commander Deanna Troi quietly observed the crew as they went about their tasks. They were surprisingly calm and orderly, not given to idle chatter. The ever-present bass thrum of the ship's machinery seemed to provide the perfect undertone to the mood.
Officially, she was there as part of a pilot crew familiarization program launched with the Senate's recognition of the existence of the Federation. The timing of the pilot program had neatly coincided with BASCOTE—the Bastion Accords Strategic Co-Operative Training Exercise—which was held jointly between the Republic and Empire every year at Ord Mantell.
In the holotank beside her, dozens of red icons populated the floating schematic of the Bright Jewel system. Almost all were clustered around the southern hemisphere of the system's third planet, Cairns.
Noticing a sensation of unease, she turned to face a furry, almost canine snout, and momentarily recoiled before she regained her composure. While she had seen many different species during her time in Starfleet, most humanoids seemed to follow certain norms in their appearance. Bothans, however, were slightly unsettling. From a distance they appeared roughly humanoid, which was completely at odds with their equine/canine-like facial structure.
"All commands, execute contingency Osk-Zerek-Niner. Standby to jump on my mark." Admiral Traest Kre'fey waited for confirmation of the orders for a few moments, then spoke. "Mark."
The inky blackness of space outside the panoramic bridge windows turned into streaks of light for a few brief moments, as if looking at a starfield through a lens of infinite curvature. The effect was not too dissimilar to the computer generated representation of space displayed on the viewscreen whenever the Enterprise went to warp. Almost as fast as it had appeared, it was replaced with the crazy, blue-shifted kaleidoscope like tunnel that Troi had come to associate with hyperspace travel. It was still somewhat nauseating to look at, and she quickly turned away from the windows.
"My apologies," Kre'fey said. "I did not mean to startle you. You are an empath, correct?"
Troi nodded. "Yes, although I have some difficulty with species far from the humanoid norm. Maybe I haven't spent enough time around Bothans."
His fur rippled slightly, and she wasn't sure if the feelings she felt coming from him were irritation or... amusement?
"I am flattered you find my species that interesting. Many say that Bothawui is no place for the faint of heart, that we are nothing more than a collection of liars and backstabbers."
She nodded slowly. "If there is one thing I have learned over the years, it is that prejudices are rarely fair."
"If only more shared that attitude," he lamented, turning his attention back to the holotank as the reversion timer began counting down.
Troi walked forward, crossing the catwalk that spanned the crew pits. She idly wondered about the lack of handrails. Given the mass of the ship and the capabilities of the inertial dampeners used here, she wasn't too surprised, but the various floating platforms and skybridges on Coruscant had similarly been handrail-free. Surely there was some sort of safety standards organization that could be reported to?
The crazy sky of hyperspace blurred back into lines before finally resolving into the pinpricks of light that were the other ships in the fleet. There was barely any sensation of movement despite the tremendous deceleration that must have been required.
"Transit successful, all ships within expected sphere of probability," Comm-Scan reported a moment later.
Looking out the windows, she spotted the brown and white orb of Cairns in the distance. Although technically terrestrial, it was at the extreme limit of that definition, an arid planet with most of its water locked into polar ice caps. The overall effect was not too dissimilar to the early pictures she had seen of Mars before its terraforming.
Her attention returned to the fleet as they began maneuvering into formation. Their movements, at this distance at least, appeared slow and ponderous when compared to the graceful maneuvering she was used to in Starfleet. Although none of the heavy combatants were less than a kilometer in length, they appeared downright diminutive next to the bulk of Lusankya that spread out in front of her, coming to a dagger-like point some fifteen kilometers forward. The tangled jumble of the Star Dreadnought's "habitable honeycomb," combined with its grand scale, bore more similarities to a city than a starship.
She shook her head slightly. The crew of this impossible ship was indeed larger than many cities'—or planets'—populations. Then again, most planets weren't built to destroy other planets.
That was a sobering thought. If Master C'baoth was correct about the drive to explore having been lost in thousands of years' worth of stagnation, the amount of internal strife in this galaxy might be easily explained by an early Terran philosopher's argument for the frontier as a stabilizing factor in society.
The uncomfortable question she was left with was: Would this be the eventual fate of the galaxy she called home? She needed more evidence.
.
.
"So, how is Tionne getting along with Master Dellen?" Mara Jade-Skywalker asked.
"About what you'd expect," Luke said, stepping into their quarters aboard the Jade Sabre. Clothes and other items were strewn about the bunks, and a large, half-stuffed travel case floated on a cart next to Mara.
"Is Kam jealous yet?" she asked, folding up a jumpsuit and packing it into the case.
"Hardly," Luke replied. Tionne and Kam Solusar had been married for almost ten years, about a year longer than he and Mara.
"Better keep an eye on them for me," she said in a jovial tone. "They're going to be spending a lot of time together combing through the remains of the Jedi Library, and you know how those librarians can be..."
Luke frowned. "Uh, no, not really."
She turned to look at him without straightening up and quirked an eyebrow. "Right. Sorry, I forgot you were a backwater farmboy at heart for a moment there."
"I still don't follow," he said.
She turned back to packing. "Let's put it this way. Libraries are cold, lonely places where librarians spend all their time working."
"Yeah, I know that," Luke said with slight irritation.
"OK, so... put two attractive, lonely librarians of the opposite sex together in an old library for a couple months, and..." She waggled her hips suggestively for emphasis. "Well, things can happen."
Luke sighed theatrically. "Tionne is too dedicated for any of that, and Master Dellen is from the old Order. Attachment is forbidden, and all that."
"They may have forbidden attachment," Mara said, "but did they forbid lust?" Her hips swayed again, and Luke found the motion harder to ignore this time.
"Point taken," he finally admitted, bringing his eyes up in time to see the amused, somewhat hungry look on her face. "You know, I really wish you'd reconsider going."
She stood upright and stretched back enough to flex herself before tracing a hand down her figure. "Going to miss something?"
"When you put it that way, yes, I think I will."
"Aww, the poor lonely farmboy," she said in a mock pout before her expression hardened. "Better not do anything while I'm gone, or you might find yourself wishing I had followed the Emperor's command on Wayland."
"I'll keep that in mind," he said dryly. "But seriously, are you sure about this? What about the baby?"
"The baby will be fine," Mara said. "Besides, I'm barely starting my third trimester and it's not like Cilghal's confined me to my bed."
"Would it make any difference if she did?" Luke deadpanned.
She gave him a playful jab in the arm. "When did you turn into such a worrywart anyway?"
"Hey, I'm allowed to be concerned about my wife and unborn son," he protested.
Mara snorted. "There's nothing to worry about. I'm traveling on a top of the line Star Destroyer, and when we get there Ambassador Picard says their medical technology is excellent, perhaps even superior to our own in some ways."
"Why don't I just go with you?" he asked.
"No." She reached over and put a hand to his lips before he could protest further. "Luke, the Jedi Order needs you now, more than ever. Something's going on in the Senate that is turning them against us."
Luke rolled his eyes. "Kyp."
She opened to her mouth as if to rebut him, then closed it again, and her hand slid down to his chest. "Well, yes, but I don't think it's just him. I have a feeling there's something else going on."
He threw his hands up in exasperation. "It's the Senate! There's always something else going on!"
Mara wrapped her arms around his chest, pulling him in so her belly was pressed up against him. The baby gave a soft kick. "Luke, I know you're more concerned about the baby and I than anything, and it's really touching. I wouldn't have it any other way." Her lips briefly pressed against his. "But I think you're missing the picture here. Something big is happening, I can feel it. I'm pretty sure it's connected to what Kyp and the twins discovered at Helska."
"I know that," Luke responded. "That's why we came here, remember? Admiral Kre'fey told us that sector command would deal with it."
"Luke, you and I both know it goes beyond Dalonbian Sector. Somebody needs to stay on top of this, and you're the best Jedi for the job. The Senate won't listen to anyone else, not even me."
He smiled. "Are you sure? You can be pretty damn persuasive."
"That's because I know how to get your attention." "Hey!" Luke jumped as her hand, still wrapped around him, dropped below his waist and squeezed.
"Admit it, you only married me because of that stretchy black jumpsuit I used to wear."
"Well, you were kind of a femme fatale. Aside from the whole 'trying to kill me' bit," he joked.
"Aha. So that did turn you on." Her smile broadened into a grin. "I thought I saw a bulge in your pants once or twice when we were crawling through those ducts in Mt. Tantiss."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Luke said in mock denial. "But anyway, that's not the only reason I married you."
"So it is true!" she exclaimed, squeezing him with another kiss. As she released, he noted her expression had much in common with a hungry predator. "What else?"
He wrapped his arms around her, letting his fingers work their way up her back. She squirmed against him slightly. "Well, I've always liked your passionate attitude."
Mara smirked. "Are you sure it's not because you needed someone to whip you ever since you left the farm?"
"I was not whipped," he protested in vain.
"But you know you enjoy it."
"Only when you do it."
She laughed, mashing her lips against his again. "Tell you the truth, I'll miss you while I'm gone."
Luke gave her a look of mock disbelief. "You? Mushy? Never!"
"Who said anything about being mushy?" she retorted, throwing him a pained glare before reaching down the front of his robe. "I meant I'd miss this."
"Ah!" Luke spluttered. "Don't make me defend my manhood."
"I would love to see you try, Master Skywalker."
"Fine." He gave her a playful, gentle shove back toward the bunk. "But don't say I didn't warn you."
"What are you going to do, tickle me?" she taunted.
"No," he replied. "But I might do this!" With that, he grabbed her in a hard kiss, spun around, and pulled her down on top of him in the bunk. The floating cart went flying through the door while the rest of the clothes, now forgotten, scattered everywhere.
After several very long moments, she pulled her lips away from his. "Watch it, Mr. I'm-so-concerned-for-the-baby."
"That coming from Mrs. I-can-take-care-of-myself?" he retorted.
"That does it." Mara grabbed the opening of his robe and pulled. "No more nice Jedi. Prepare to meet your doom, Luke Skywalker."
"The line between nightmare and fantasy keeps getting more blurred," he remarked with a smile.
"Just be thankful we have the Sabre all to ourselves while Anakin's out touring the new ships," she said breathlessly in between kisses.
"Believe me, I am."
.
.
"Executing microjump."
The first stage of contingency plan OZ-9 called for Lusankya and the interdictors of Task Force 1's five strike groups to microjump from their holding position at the Lagrange point of one of the system's gas giants to a geostationary position above the attacking Imperial squadron. The transition to hyperspace was so brief that Deanna Troi only noticed the blur of acceleration and deceleration.
The concept of the interdictor was also new to her, since there were very few things that could prevent a starship from escaping to warp. Tractor beams might, but only with sufficient power. The mass of the two ships was another issue; it typically only worked if the target was much lighter than its pursuer. As a result, disabling the warp nacelles of the target was typically the only reliable way to prevent a ship from escaping. Given the way the Republic armored their ships, however, she doubted that disabling a ship here was as easy.
"Jump complete. Interdiction fields activating. Strike group reversion in T-20."
During the briefing, Admiral Kre'fey had explained to her that the tactic was adopted from one of the greatest tacticians in recent history, an alien Imperial admiral named Thrawn. The interdiction fields would be used to pull the rest of the fleet precisely out of hyperspace, maintaining their formations in a manner almost impossible with a normal microjump.
"Reversion in T-15. Monitor reports critical shield failure in aft quadrant and is rolling to compensate."
Kre'fey remained silent, evidently trusting his commanders to make the correct decisions as Lusankya's batteries began to return fire. The only downside to this approach was that it left the Imperials with a brief window to attack the interdictors, which they had immediately taken advantage of.
Although she knew it was only a simulation, and in this scenario the Imperials had attacked first, it still sent chills down her spine to think about the cold clarity with which Admiral Kre'fey had ordered the plan's execution. She had no doubts he was capable of doing the same in real combat. Under most circumstances, a Starfleet commander ordering an immediate attack after dropping out of warp would subsequently face a review board and potential discipline, depending on the severity of his actions.
"Reversion in T-10. Monitor is reporting total shield failure."
"Order Monitor to maintain position," Kre'fey barked.
"Orders sent and acknowledged. T-4. Three. Two. One."
As soon as the countdown hit zero, the fleet suddenly appeared around them with weapons hot. The first salvoes struck out toward the Imperial fleet scant seconds later. For the engagement, all the guns were set to tracer mode, a visually impressive bolt of energy that had little more power than a hand blaster. Without that, every ship on both sides would have had to be slave-circuited to allow the fire control computers to share targeting data in real time to calculate hits and misses—not an impossible task, but a highly impractical one.
"Monitor reports reactor damage, multiple hull breaches, and is requesting permission to disengage."
"Granted," Kre'fey said. "Fall back to sector 23. Gunships are to begin attack runs in T-15."
"Orders sent and acknowledged," Comm-scan reported.
The gunships' scale—around 200 meters in length—and tactical use seemed far more familiar to Troi than the long-distance slugging match the rest of the fleet was embroiled in. As one, they broke formation, accelerating toward the Imperial fleet. Several icons winked out along the way, but over four dozen gunships (out of 60) made it to point blank range and promptly unleashed hell. Each salvo consisted of nearly five thousand missiles, and most gunships were able to fire off three salvos. At the end of the attack run, only about twenty gunships had survived to jump back to the reserve point.
Although for the purposes of the exercise none of the missiles were carrying warheads, and all of them had their booster engines rigged for proximity self-destruction, Troi was able to see the explosions of the missiles clearly as they rippled across the Imperial fleet. Moments later, the tactical display updated itself with the results of the horrific carnage: a half dozen of the Imperials' capital ships had been marked as destroyed, with another dozen mission-killed and the rest of the force suffering major shield depletion.
"Carrier groups have arrived. Bomber strikes inbound."
The one- and two-man attack craft used reminded Deanna somewhat of the Peregrine trainers she had flown at the Academy. Any similarities ended there, however. Utilized in a similar manner to the gunships, the fighters were closing to point-blank range where they would perform missile and torpedo strikes on the remaining capital ships. Unlike the gunships, the craft were far more agile—and fragile.
"All commands to close range and provide support for the bomber strikes."
By now, icons were winking out left and right on the tactical display as the battle continued to unfold. The Imperials had lost almost a third of their total strength, the Republic fleet slightly less, mostly among the gunship groups.
"Reversion in sector 37," Comm-Scan reported a moment later. "No IFF. Visual survey confirms multiple Tector, Allegiance and Interdictor class Star Destroyers. They are targeting the carrier groups."
Kre'fey snarled something that resisted all attempts at translation. "I was wondering what their reserves were up to. Direct Strike Group 4 to intercept."
"Orders sent and acknowledged. Redoubt is reporting shield failures in multiple quadrants."
Kre'fey walked over to a comm set and picked it up. "Get me Captain Durmah." He paused mometarily while the connection was made. "Captain, I need you to target the heavy batteries on the Imperial group in sector 37. Keep them off the carriers until Strike Group 4 arrives."
Deanna sighed softly and continued watching the mock battle unfold. It was becoming clear that despite the parliamentary veneer of the Republic, they had much more in common with the governments of Earth's Dark Age than they did with the enlightened society which the Federation represented. She could only hope that their willingness to seek admission in this Republic was only a temporary insanity brought on by the severity of the Dominion War, and not a first step toward weakening the ideals of the Federation.