Chapter 1 – Part Two – Counter Strike
The UFP Griffon measuring at just over seven hundred meters was slightly larger than a Sovereign, it dropped out of transwarp accompanied by a small fleet of a dozen Constitution classes and twenty New Orleans classes at its rear. Under normal circumstances the older Constitution class vessel would be almost useless in such a confrontation but ever since the Kelvin Invasion they could not afford the resources or time to build the larger newer classes. Requiring a little more than four months the project of rebuilding them had begun, which included installing the latest and most up-to-date equipment – but they could only house so much, just not having enough space for all the equipment the larger ships possessed, labs, sensor suites, deflector dishes, weapons. They now packed the same punch as an Intrepid even having collimated phaser arrays installed, keeping the much older ones for point defence.
The Captain of the Griffon, and the small Task Force was the Vulcan T'Bon. There were few small Vulcan's and he was no exception standing at slightly over six feet tall, unlike many of his brethren though he was solidly built and lithe with it. "This is the Captain of the Griffon all ships attack at will – hold no quarter for none will be given," trying to maintain his Vulcan equanimity upon eyeing the smouldering hulk of the once proud Voyager.
"The fleet acknowledges," answered the Bynar, Head Science Officer. As they always operated in pairs, and being neither male nor female, or possessing a name composed of consonants and vowels like other humanoids both had readily accepted a nickname, Byn-One. Its contrasting number - Head of Engineering, was called Byn-Zero, in keeping with binary principle. Both had a pinkish pallor to their skin tone which was rare among their kind.
Executive Officer Commander Azuma Grax glanced at the tactical officer, a hulk of a man, not surprising considering his Capellan origin, "Maban, fire a full spread of phasers and let's see if we can't slow them down."
"Yes sir." The ship shook as lances of enemy weapons fire streaked past their ship, grazing their shields. Their job was to tie up the alien vessel, maybe even cripple or destroy it – if they could, if not reinforcements were an hour away, even at transwarp. At this minute in time it was more a game of cat and mouse, finding each others strengths, and exploiting any weakness.
"According to sensors they are only firing secondary weapons – they do have a primary weapon but it has not yet been brought into play"
"Very comforting to know" remarked the Captain sarcastically.
The enemy's secondary weapons were a kind of plasma torpedo which were proving to be quite troublesome. Their launchers were capable of vomiting them out an astounding rate. Most had fallen victim to Federation point defence phasers - but not all. The ship rocked again at more impacts. Operating consoles sparked then flashed in warning as each plasma torpedo struck the shields, a small percentage of energy reaching the hull. Constitution classes worked in concert with the newer New Orleans class. One would dance in providing a flurry of phaser and photon torpedo strikes then duck from sight as the other would come in from an unexpected angle – hitting the enemy with everything they had. It was these hit and run tactics that seemed to be working, constantly wearing the enemy down while keeping their damage and losses to a minimum. These assaults were not without risk though, as the invaders seemed to be getting used to the tactics, even anticipating attack vectors.
Smaller enemy turrets opened up, overwhelming the shields, as plasma disruptor banks gashed the side of the New Orleans opening the interior to space causing power shortages across the ship –emergency force fields sprang into life attempting to protect as many as possible for the vacuum of space – they were not successful. Dozens died of exposure within seconds, others were lucky – but not for long. Warning klaxons went off on the bridge and in engineering. Unable to prevent the tragedy that took place as the warp core began a critical overload none were able to stop.
Grax watched in alarm, turning towards the huge Capellan, "Is the Mareva's core about to breach?"
"Yes sir, we're attempting to lock on but enemy weapon fire is emitting some kind of transporter inhibitor – there's nothing we can do," his eyes showing the anger and barely contained roiling emotions.
"Get closer – see if we can…"
"Too late" warned T'Bon, all watching in abject horror as the core breached.
Another explosion lit the skyline as on the opposite side of the enemy battleship as a Constitution exploded - unable to take the battering, a nacelle spun across the battlefield, barely missing the Griffon.
"That was too damn close" cursed Grax.
Activating the comm-channel from his console the Vulcan prepared to make a fleet wide announcement. "This is the CO of the taskforce. If your ship is too badly damaged then withdraw. I will not have lives lost needlessly today."
At tactical Maban's practiced eye noticed something out of the ordinary. What he spotted was a ship was executing some of the bizarre and erratic manoeuvres he had ever seen. "Sir – you need to see this"
"On screen" the XO ordered.
They all could all clearly see a Constitution busy performing a series of breakneck tactical manoeuvres causing it to stop and spin, turn and then to and accelerate at ridiculous speed
"Tactical contact that ship!" commanded Azuma angrily.
Instead of space the view screen now showed a proud Klingon warrior, a decorated Starfleet Captain.
"Captain S'Rell what in the hell are you doing?"
"Providing a distraction" he quipped.
While this conversation continued others continued to perform their tasks. Behind both the Captain and Commander, the Capellan tactical officer's fingers were almost a blur on the controls – strobes of phased nadions sped from Ingram class impacting on the enemy shields.
"You'll get yourself killed"
"I may be Klingon but I will not throw my life or that of the crew away needlessly," he shouted angrily cutting the connection.
Damn! "Maban arm Megaphasers and target the enemy ship"
"Yes Commander"
Without turning or looking, eyes completely focused switching between the view screen and his console. "Can we get a lock on any life signs on Voyager?" Gripping the arms of his chair as the ship shook with every impact, the outline of his biceps visible beneath the uniform.
"Negative Captain we're still unable to penetrate the inhibitors from the enemy weapons" responded Byn-One.
"Commander I want you to take an Away Team to Voyager and rescue as many as possible."
"Understood sir," Grax acknowledged automatically as he rose, walking to the turbolift.
There would not even be enough time to suit up. In truth he had been waiting for the order to send a team across the Voyager – having already alerted Doctor Pulaski to assemble a large contingent of nurses. They would be forced to do it the hard way. Met by the doctor and about two dozen others in the shuttlecraft bay all armed and carrying medical equipment – as per standard Starfleet policy. Pulaski even handed one bag over to him. He turned to the two pilots, "We're hoping they'll concentrate fire on the larger targets. Be prepared to evade should the need arise"
"Yes sir" answered two pilots automatically.
"Okay saddle up people." Everyone separated going towards the newly designed Warhammer fighter craft. Normal OP required that First Officer and CMO were not aboard the same craft, this was to ensure that should one be destroyed, only one senior officer would be lost. A lesson they had been forced to learn the hard way. The Griffon's shuttle bays were actually on the star drive section just at behind the neck. The fighter craft sat on a platform which was then raised to ceiling height as a little bay door would part to reveal the maw of open space. Shuttle or fighter engines would power up automatically as a safety feature. "Launch" he ordered.
Both attack craft sped towards Voyager which spun in space helplessly.
Despite its size it moved with a speed and grace that belied this fact, pirouetting and shifting away from enemy fire at the last instant. At tactical Maban was watching the sensor readings, quite carefully. One hundred such missiles were already dispersing across the battlefield which so far had lasted only minutes; their rate of fire wasn't slowing down either.
"Captain they're powering up the main weapon."
It was then Captain T'Bon realised the error of their last manoeuvre. "Vulcan's is behind us," he gasped, eyes wide in alarm unafraid to show emotion as the others suddenly realised the gravity of the situation; that the ship would be unable to dodge at the last instant. All were aware of what was about to happen, of what was being asked of them. "Hold fast, maintain our position at all costs," he ordered. "All hands brace for impact!"
The ship shook violently as thunder and lightning filled the bridge. Warning klaxons could be heard all across the bridge, explosions throwing crew members like rag dolls while others were killed as their consoles discharged.
"Damage Report" Barked the Captain struggling to get back into his chair from the deck to which he had been thrown, along with many others.
"Shields down to ten percent, decks five through twenty are open to space," groaned Maban, holding his left arm protectively.
"That's one hell of a weapon," commented Byn-One grimly finally getting to grip with some human euphemisms.
"Get to medical" ordered the Captain.
"No," the Capellan answered resentfully. "I respectfully wish to remain at my station," he said eyeing the Captain warily, waiting for confirmation which he received in the form of a nod. His Vulcan logic having come to the obvious conclusion – it was unlikely anyone else would be available after the pounding they had just taken, even if they could get to the bridge –the time lag would leave them vulnerable.
At navigation Ensign Lopez face was a mask of determination and anger. Some said his piloting skills rivalled that of Tom Paris and would some day surpass the Voyager officer – during their Academy days they had often organised dog fight holo-simulations but to date had never beat Tom. In his opinion he had a long was to go, if he survived. Under his tender fingers the Griffon performed a little turn followed by twist moving between the plasma torpedoes that were always a hairs breadth away. Try as he might be able to he could not get his shoulders to relax, tension began to collect in his upper body.
"Relax Ensign" the Captain said soothingly.
"Yes sir," was his clipped automatic reply.
He'd seen action during the Dominion War and the Kelvin Offensive, as it was sometimes called, but no one had been able to fire a seemingly endless supply of plasma weaponry, so much so that he had to continually jink to avoid being hit – that and they had suddenly started homing in on any nearby power sources. Sweat beaded his forehead; the rivulets began their short journey down his face dripping onto his tunic. Not matter how he breathed, deeply, shallowly, evenly, it felt like a Klingon had a vice like grip on his neck, gradually increasing the pressure second by painful second. Can't keep this up much longer he thought. Dozens more plasma torpedoes struck the Griffon, causing consoles and EPS conduits to rupture – explosions rocked the bridge once more.
"Ventral and port shields are down to five percent"
"I'm through holding back" remarked the Captain, "Klep-Hreh can you sense anything from them that might give away their intent? Or interfere with their actions psychically?"
During the war they had found the Kelvin were susceptible to telepaths and psychic assaults. All Ship that had Councillors who did not possess any psychic ability had been promoted sideways into other command roles allowing for a dual position to be created; Councillor, and Psychic – Head of Mental Sciences, or HoMS for short - their role was to provide a combat edge, monitor the emotional wellbeing of the crew in a more efficient manner, while also allowing a more thorough analysis of any alien races encountered in the hopes of preventing any first contact gaffs.
On the Griffon this happened to be a Kzinti.
"They possess a form of hive mind Captain. There is a definite feeling of surprise at our ability to fight back and of their need to summon aid – but main crux of their action is to attack the planet. Something about it or the Vulcans there offends them greatly."
Without turning to look at the Chief Security Officer, "Maban," he enunciated, "Co-ordinate the fleet let's fire all torpedoes and phasers all at one point. Maybe see if we can't penetrate their shields."
It took all of twenty seconds until Maban announced triumphantly, "They're away." Dozens of photon and quantum torpedoes erupted from the other Federation vessels, all impacting at the same point with a bright flash on the enemy shields.
"Their Starboard shields are down to ten percent. Wait," he said pausing to check his readings. Another impact shook the ship that would have thrown T'Bon to the deck had it not been for the timely intervention of Kzinti.
"Thank you"
"You're welcome," growled the Kzinti in annoyance. "Whoever is controlling that is too strong for me to influence in any discernable way. I cannot get past their mental shields"
"One million kilometres aft we have a transwarp signature, transponder signal is reading Federation. Captain it's the Enterprise!"
He sounded glad thought Klep-Hreh. "We're being hailed," stated the feline psychic tapping his control panel with a claw.
"On screen"
"Griffon we heard you were in trouble and got here as fast we could"
"We're badly outgunned here. What's worse is they intend to wipe all life from the face of Vulcan. We must defend the planet at any cost"
"Why?" Riker's face was incredulous.
"Unknown. I've sent a team to salvage Voyager and rescue any injured"
"Sir we have a communication from the Klingon Captain, S'Rell"
"Split screen"
"We need to hit that ship in the same place as last time. We're preparing to ram it in the hopes that will work"
"I thought you said you were not prepared to die needlessly?"
His grin showed missing teeth, blood dribbled freely down his chin creating almost demonic look. "I'm not but for the right cause….." he paused briefly, "In this case saving billions of Vulcan lives. That is a glorious way to die! Beam all my crew out I'll take this ship in alone," he grinned maniacally as he severed communications.
On his console the Captain of the Griffon was busy plotting course changes, corrections and transmitting them to the navigation station. "'Let's get to work" ordered T'Bon. "Take us in and fire at will." Another hit shook the already badly damaged ship – it would not take much more.
"Our port side weapons are temporarily offline, as are thrusters" he declared.
"Let's provide Enterprise with whatever assistance she needs. If we are to survive we're reliant on her"
"They're launching fighters"
"Scramble ours and let's see if we can actually damage that bird of theirs," suggested Klep-Hreh, filling in for Commander Grax. Within thirty seconds dozens of Warhammer fighter craft were scrambling to deal with the incoming enemy fighters.
"Captain it appears their shields are back to full strength"
"We've got to go through all this again?" Said the Kzinti astounded shaking his head in dismay. About to order an attack when the space around Vulcan began to ripple and distort, again, "Please someone tell me their reinforcements aren't here already?"
No one spoke as an identical ship emerged from the same kind of subspace rift as before. Silence reigned up until it fired at Vulcan using its main beam and secondary weapons.