The Hour of the Wolf
Chapter Thirty-Eight

The Battle of Carillon took place shortly after the destruction of the Colonies. Looking for fuel and resources the Fleet had headed for the remote system, hoping to find an abandoned mining base. Instead they found a working facility, manned by a race called the Ovions. The Ovions lured the Galactica's Warriors away on the orders of their Cylon masters. All the Cylons had to do then was wait for the perfect moment to ambush the Galactica and the Fleet.

Fortunately Commander Adama had seen through the trap and, while he had sent his Warriors off, they were ready for the attack. As the Cylons launched waves of Raiders the Galactica's squadrons rose from the planet and easily outflanked the enemy.

Troy was there, on Carillon. He could remember, held in his mothers arms, watching his Father take off. His Viper joining the dozens of others as they screamed across the high desert sky. Right now he remembered that moment with perfect clarity as his eight Vipers desperately tried to reach orbit.

The distress call had been a trap. Troy should have expected it, even if he hadn't seen anything. That alone should have been the biggest clue. The stealth fields the Klingon used made them invisible, undetectable to even the most sensitive sensor arrays.

You had to be on your guard at all times around them. He'd forgotten that and now the crew of the Astradon had paid the price. As his flight of Vipers broke through the toxic atmosphere of the planet he saw the battle ahead.

Dillion had his group flying in close formation around the smaller enemy ships, pulling tight turns barely a handful of meters from the Klingon ship's hull. Keeping the pair of them from getting a clear weapons lock. The difficulty there was they couldn't line up for a shot either.

All the while the larger of the Klingon ships was manoeuvring to take out what was left of the Astradon. A glance to his sensors told Troy there were still a good number of lifesigns on the crippled transport.

At full thrusters his eight Vipers were approaching the combat zone at speed. In just a few microns they'd be engaged. Taking a deep breath to calm himself Troy settled into his pilot's seat. True combat wasn't like a simulator run, as redundant as that might sound. In Viper combat a single mistake, a pause no longer than a heartbeat, could mean life or death for the entire squadron. 'I know none of you expected to get into combat this mission. None of us wanted to, but we're here now. Remember your training, trust your wingman and yourselves. Form up, target the Cruiser's primary weapons.' Troy told them and got to work.

The Klingon ship was close enough now to navigate by visuals alone, They were approaching at a steep angle, giving them a steady target. The cruiser had is main weapons on it's wingtips, the oversized cannon on it's right was the closest to them.

As they got into firing range Troy knew the luck of the Lords was, at long last, with them. They'd caught the attacker by surprise.

Troy was the first to open fire, but the Vipers beside him weren't far behind. Pouring on the laser fire they started blasting away at the wingtip. At this range it was no surprise the first few salvos missed, but his warriors were well trained and quickly fixed that. Unfortunately blast after blast that should have torn through the weapon's barrel and it's mounting splashed against a wall of energy.

Defence screens. If the Astradon had raised it's own it's command might still be intact. Instead of a cloud of debris in orbit around a dead planet. They were doing damage, justness enough. At this rate of fire Troy was going to burn out his own weapons before the screens failed.

The heavily armed Cruiser changed course with a sharp turn, bringing it's nose around to them. As they kept firing replied in kind. Massive green bolts of destructive energy, easily the size of a Viper, flew towards them. 'Evade! Peel out! Scatter!' He ordered urgently. Half a micron later a blast cut so close it nearly burnt the end of his Viper's stabiliser off. 'Frack!' Troy cursed, he had felt the power of that shot. Another charge against the creditor when he banked his luck. Before long he was going to run out.

Pulling away from the now suicidal dive Troy again checked his sensors. He hadn't lost anyone yet, but it was only a matter of time. Changing readouts he focused on the Cruiser. They'd done more damage than he'd thought. Defence screens were only just over twenty percent of normal, but it wouldn't be long before they recovered. 'Flight one, concentrate on the Cruiser. Any shot you can take!'

They rattled off their confirmations and Troy pulled a sharp turn. 'Avoid the forward firing arc if possible. Try and focus on the main hull!' Again he marched actions to words and opened fire. His shots again stopped by the bubble like energy field, but this time he could see the damage it was doing. The glowing wall of energy was thinner now.

Then, as if from nowhere a new voice came over the radio, broadcasting in the clear. 'Astradon to all ships! This is Chief Tech Lahnce. We're still here, damage extreme, but the atmospheric fields are holding. Main sensors down, we're blind but still here! We need help!'

'Thank the Lords!' Troy swore, matching frequency. 'Astradon, this is Lieutenant Troy, get your defence screens up! Now!'

'I don't know if we can. My repair teams are spread all over the ship, rerouting vital systems…'

'Get those screens up, or you won't have a ship to repair!' Troy interrupted. 'And when you get half a centon hit full reverse thrust before you hit that planet!'

There was a pause as the channel dissolved into static for a moment, finally the tech came back. 'As if we didn't have enough problems. Primary engines are fracked, I might be able to manoeuvre, but our sensors are down. We wouldn't know where we're going.'

Troy swore under his breath, they were just as likely to steer into the planet as avoid it. The best chance would be if one of his pilots flew point, but that sort of precision flying was impossible in a battle.

'Surrender!' A growling voice ordered over the open channel. 'This is Commander K'Hawn. We can tow your ship to safety, or we can destroy it. Lieutenant, you will order a surrender and we will save your people!' Troy didn't believe a word of it. Honourable race or not, any people willing to level a colony just to bait an ambush couldn't be trusted.

'Take your offer to hades when we send you there!' Kip swore over the open line. The young warrior was out of line, but Troy agreed. His sensors beeped a sharp warning and a quick glance told him things were about to get much worse.

The Klingon Cruiser had armed it's secondary weapons and turned it's attention back to the Astradon. 'Then your friends die!' K'Hawn snarled.

'Lahnce! Get those screens up!' Troy bellowed as he tried to re-aim at the nose of the ship, but he was too late. The cruiser launched two bright orange balls in quick succession. The pair of them flew straight at the damaged transport. 'Lahnce!'

At the last possible moment a shimmering bubble of energy appeared around the Astradon. Just in time for the first torpedo to hit. Much like his shots on the Cruiser, it might have looked like it was harmlessly absorbed but there was obvious damage. The second warhead shattered the shield and Troy could see new explosions ripple from the Astradon's hull.

'Astradon, Astradon come in.' Troy asked desperately as he brought his Viper back around and fired again. Finally punching through the Cruiser's own screens and scoring hits on the Klingon's hull.

Lahnce's voice came over the open line. 'Defence screen is down. Overload blew half the Energiser grid! No chance of repair! Green Squadron, we can't take another hit like that! She's coming apart at the seams!'

With his Vipers harassing the large Cruiser it didn't look like it was going to get another chance, but before Troy could say anything the sensors bleeped again. The two smaller ships Dillion's wing was dealing with had come around and fired their own torpedoes.

Two more warheads, one each, streaked across the stars. The Astradon couldn't survive even one and there was nothing Troy could do about it. By the time he'd come around to intercept them they'd already have hit. Then, in one of the most insane things Troy had ever seen, a Viper broke of from the smaller Klingon ships and followed at full turbo. A great plume of white thruster backwash blinding anything behind it.

The torpedoes were fast, even faster than a Viper normally, but it bought the pilot time and as fast as torpedoes were laser blasts were still quicker. The first shot missed the tiny target. The next only clipped the warhead, but that was enough to detonate it spectacularly. The last torpedo was only milli-microns from hitting the Astradon. If the pilot missed this time it was all over.

In a daring stunt right out of nowhere they pulled of a tight aileron roll that should have sent their dampeners into fits at that speed. Like a Warrior rolling to one side to get a better shot. Skill that could only have been a gift of the Lords. There was only one pilot with the skill, and the arrogance, to do something that crazy in Green Squadron. Troy's best friend, Dillion. They snapped of a single shot that hit the last torpedo just in time.

The explosion was close enough to rock the transport, but caused no real damage. 'Dillion! Good job, great job!' Troy applauded his friend.

As Dillion's Viper continued it followed a lazy arc, the turbo backwash dying out. Watching this Troy's gut went cold; 'Dillion, can you hear me! Dillion?' He called out again. Flicking his sensors to detect what he could Troy swung his nose around to track his friend and swore under his breath. The stunt must have put too much stress on the Viper's dampers, the readings showed he was unconscious. The Viper was out of control, flying dumb.

Helpless Troy watched as his best friend kept a steady course. 'Turn! Dillion, turn!' He whispered, as if the force of his will was enough to wake his friend. The Klingons behind him found the Viper an easy target. A bright green bolt of destructive energy caught the Viper dead on. Igniting the processed tylum instantly. Troy's friend exploded into a cloud of free floating atoms.

Roe'met'felcon strained against the interference, but couldn't make out what was happening. He could see the Cube, the Cylon command ship as well as flashes of blue and green between them but not much else.

Calming himself Roe'met'felcon came to a decision. 'First to fleet, stand down. Disarm and return to base, maximum Warp. My Fighter will follow when possible.'

'First?'

'Divert power to shields and sensors. From every system, including weapons. We must report this to the Founder! She has to know of this development.'

His Jem'Hadar did not question him, but he knew better. His orders were to put down a rebellion, not to risk Dominion lives and equipment against Cylon forces. As he had just demonstrated, disobeying an order like that brought death.

He still couldn't just leave, he needed proof that this development was taking place. A solder without accurate intelligence is a liability in battle. They couldn't afford that and if the price was his life in penance, it was a price he would pay.

'Record everything. Have it stored on a probe, if we are attacked launch it back into Dominion controlled space. Broadcasting everything we see, once outside the jamming field!'

'Yes First.'

He looked at his crew and nodded. 'This is under my personal command. Set course, half thrust. Take us into the battle!'

The tactic was known as The Patient Hunter. It was one of the oldest in the Empire. Find what your opponent desires the most, put it in danger and wait for the prey to come to you.

When word reached the Gowron loyal forces that the Science Outpost at Q'Hoath was being raided no one mistook it for a random attack. There was very little tactical reason and as the world itself was otherwise uninhabitable there were easier places to collect resources. The only thing that was unknown was why. Another Klingon would easily see through the ancient ploy. In the end it took Worf to point out that Klingons were not the prey these Duras loyal ships were hunting.

With Captain Riker's, all be it reluctant permission, Worf was officially on extended leave from Starfleet. With this new freedom he had joined the Klingon Defence Forces, those that were loyal to Gowron and what remained of the High Council. Many of the important Houses had grown rich thanks to House Duras and they had chosen to either support the traitor, or simply remain neutral. However, in doing so they had made enemies. It was those enemies that stood with Gowron now.

It was a lose alliance, made all the weaker with Duras's propaganda of Federation interference and Gowron's weakness. With this word had reached Worf that, even though he now knew the truth, Gowron could not remove the dishonour Worf had accepted more than a year ago. To do so would alienate those few that remained on the Council and had kept quiet.

It had not made serving easy, his standing within Klingon society made him a pariah. At first no Klingon Commander would accept him. Fortunately Worf's younger brother Kurn had kept his own history secret and was now in command of his own B'Rel Class Bird of Prey. The IKS Hegh'ta. Kurn had agreed to Worf serving being on board.

While there he had no standing, that meant despite being the older brother he had no voice in command decisions. Kurn's own respect from his crew had suffered as well, but they had accepted the reasoning that House Lorgh, Kurn's adoptive house, owed a dept and this was their reluctant repayment.

Worf on the other hand had to put up with endless slights and insults. Sneers as others passed in the corridor and on more than one occasion attacks by those that thought they were doing their Commander a favour ridding him of this dept. The most recent of which had left Worf with a new scar above his eye.

Among these insults were the constant slights about Worf's lack of heritage, being raised amongst humans and the endless patience he'd displayed. Many jokes suggested he was more Vulcan than Klingon. Privately Worf had to admit there might be some truth to that.

When he heard of the unprovoked attack he felt the slaughter of unarmed scientists was an abomination. No matter the reason. To the others on board, even Kurn, the scientists were fools and got what they deserved.

With some effort Worf had been able to convince his brother to investigate, under cloak, the attack. To look for survivors and find out who, if anyone answered had the call.

It was luck that had him on duty when they arrived in the system, from his position at the tactical console Worf realised that there was a battle under way. and brought up the tactical overlay on the main screen. 'Worf?' Kurn snapped. 'What is this?'

'Tactical readout. There is a battle above Q'Hoath.' He told his brother. The screen showed the planet, four main ships and clusters of icons normally reserved for shuttlecraft, or like shuttle craft ships, swarming three of them. 'Three Bird of Prey type ships. Two B'Rel and one K'Vort. All damaged. One Transport, Colonial, crippled.' Worf reported professionally.

'Colonial?' Kurn asked. 'Adama's people? Why would they…?'

'They're humans.' Snarled Ket'Var, the ship's helm officer. 'They're weak.'

'No, to them there is no higher honour than to protect.' Worf disagreed. 'They see it as their duty to save lives and will sacrifice themselves to do so. That is not weakness.'

'It is stupidity.' Kurn sneered. 'Three warships? They cannot win this battle with tiny attack pods alone!'

Worf looked again at the tactical readout. 'Do not be so sure, Commander.' One of the icons, showing the smaller Duras loyal ships, blinked and disappeared.

'What?' Several bridge officers gasped in shock. Soon after the other B'Rel class vanished. Both had been destroyed in the battle. The cluster of Vipers changed course for the K'Vort class

'Let me see.' Kurn ordered and Worf switched back to forward view on the main screen. The K'Vort class was badly damaged. Trailing smoke from a number of serious hull breaches it wings were off kilter. One level in in cruise mode and the other jammed in attack position. Worf checked his readings again. 'The vessel is the IKS Chaldaq. Commanded by Captain K'Hawn. House K'Hawn. Duras loyal.' he read off the database entry.

'Damage?' Kurn snapped, watching as the ship was being hounded by nearly a full squadron of Vipers. Their orange energy blasts tearing away at armoured hull plates

'Shields down, Warp Engines inoperative, disrupters destroyed. Multiple hull breaches.' Worf announced. With this sort of damage It was only a matter of time before the K'Vort was free floating scrap metal.

'The attack pods?'

'Fifteen, one appears to have been destroyed before our arrival.'

Kurn spun his command chair around. 'Only one? How?'

Worf checked the sensor readings again. Even as advanced as they were the Colonials should have lost lot a lot more than one ship. 'The attack appears to have been focused on the transport. It's heavily damaged, multiple hull breaches and power readings are minimal.'

'The coward's attacked the transport and underestimated the attack pods? Only a fool underestimate's his enemy!' Kurn grinned, ignoring the fact that but a few minutes ago he too dismissed the Vipers.

Then again Klingons were not ones for self reflection. Another corruption Worf recognised within himself, but before he could think further on it the female Communication's officer, Meh'Thone, spoke up. 'The Attack Pod's are transmitting. Listen.'

'Green Squadron to Klingon Commander; surrender and prepare to be arrested for crimes against the Colonial Fleet.' Worf recognised the pilot's voice. It was Troy, grandson of Adama.

K'Hawn swore back at him in Klingon. Questioning his parentage, the lieutenant's sexual habits and moving on to his possible children. It was an impressive display of creative cursing. Wasted on the Colonial as Worf was certain he didn't understand a word.

'I take it that was a no.' Troy replied quickly. 'Green Squadron; take him out!' Like a pack of targs let off their leash the Vipers surged forward each pair focusing on a different part of the K'Vort class ship. Within seconds the crippled Klingon vessel was overwhelmed, energy blasts punching all the way through the ship and coming out the other side.

A small group of Vipers broke off and swung wide, strafing the bridge section and tearing it apart. The bombardment continued, ripping into the main hull. Exposing deck after deck to hard vacuum until the large vessel tore itself into a cloud of twisted debris.

'Lifesigns?'Kurn asked, already knowing the answer.

Worf decided to give a full report. 'Multiple on the Colonial transport. There's some interference from their damaged systems, making it hard to get any exact readings while cloaked. Fifteen Vipers confirmed, that leaves one casualty. Duras's forces have been completely destroyed, no survivors.'

Kurn stood and watched for a moment as the Vipers peeled off and made for their transport ship. 'Meh'Thone, open a secure channel back to Qo'noS. Colonel Mar'tok is to be informed of all battles involving these people. Worf, the Federation likes details. You should be used to writing them. Have one ready for the Colonel.'

Worf looked again at the damaged transport. It was struggling to maintain orbit. With all the damage it had taken it wasn't going to last long. On a Federation ship they'd be offering aid, tractor beaming the Ship clear, something. Maybe his current shipmates were right, if this civil war had taught him anything it was he was no Klingon. No matter what his heart told him. 'Yes Commander.'

End Chapter Thirty-Eight