Starbase 24 Security Offices

Early afternoon, Monday 3rd March 2375

"Red Alert…" The warning blared out from every speaker across the starbase.

It had been Simka who had noticed something wrong and raised the alarm. Helping herself to a jam doughnut from a tray someone had brought in as a birthday treat for everyone to share, the young woman had been swivelling round in her seat to pass the tray to the next person, when her eye had been drawn to the big overhead screen. Currently showing an external view of the station, an unexpected movement at the far reaches of the solar system warned her that something was not quite right.

Following her training, she'd shoved the tray of doughnuts into her colleague's hands, got to her feet and called the boss over to take a look. Picking up on her agitation, Star had not argued, coming quickly to her side to study the schematics. A few seconds later, the Starbase had been at red alert.

"…All hands to battle stations. We are under attack. This is not a drill; repeat, this is not a drill!"

To the shocked officers who moments earlier had been quietly and peacefully working at their desks, Lieutenant Star's voice sounded remarkably calm as he sent out the alert no one had ever thought they would hear for real.

"Command to security. What's going on down there? What do you mean, it's not a drill?"

To be fair, the admiral had only voiced what everyone was thinking, and after listening to Star's report without arguing or interrupting, he'd had acted fast (although not fast enough) on the information given. How could it possibly be not a drill? Starbase 24 was considered a safe posting, well away from the front lines and of strategic importance only for its proximity to the Klingon Empire, located as it was on the Federation/Klingon border, roughly halfway between Earth and Qo'noS, and not far from Khitomer. Other than that very brief time when the Klingons had broken the Khitomer Accords, the station had never been attacked in living memory.

"Jem'Hadar fighters, sir. A whole squadron of them." Star's voice was still calm, although anyone listening would have been forgiven if they'd imagined the words, "Stop asking stupid questions and scramble the fleet!"

It had all happened so fast, and despite the long-range sensor buoys on the outer perimeter of the system, there had been no warning, the enemy ships appearing out of nowhere. There should have been more ships to guard the starbase and the system, but thanks to the war, the starbase was desperately short-staffed, with a full half of the fleet having been pulled away to fight elsewhere, and half of what they did have was out on patrol. If one of their ships had detected incoming enemy fleet, it had all too likely been destroyed before it could get a warning out.

There was absolutely no doubt now that they were under attack, flashes of light already visible through the windows, and the first explosions rocking the starbase. It was only their intensive training and a sense of unreality about the whole thing (as though Star would say "Sorry, only joking!" or they'd wake up and find out it was just a bad dream) that kept the security team from panicking as they scattered to their emergency posts.

Across the starbase, everyone else would be doing the same. Starfleet officers and marines would be arming themselves, reporting to their duty stations. Ships' crews would be doing likewise, recalling essential personnel from shore leave, loading up their photon torpedoes, releasing docking clamps… Starfleet vessels, a few visiting Klingon ships, any civilian freighter or cruiser that had any weapons with which to defend themselves… all of them would be frantically preparing for the fight of their lives. On the promenade, shops would be pulling down their shutters, shoppers and staff alike heading for the nearest designated emergency shelters. Likewise in the residential areas of the base.

There was much to be done, but Star could not prevent part of his mind from concentrating on his bondmate. Where was T'Fel? Was she safe? Desperately needing to know, the Vulcan reached out through their mental link and quickly discovered that she had closed the restaurant and was busy helping with the evacuation of the promenade. Feeling much better for the momentary contact, Lieutenant Star swiftly issued the necessary orders to his team and got back to work. He had a starbase to protect.

Captain's ready room, USS Endeavour

With the official part of their meeting over, decisions made, and the last 'i' dotted and 't' crossed to the satisfaction of both captains, Krang had time to have a proper look around, and he surveyed Captain Mackenzie's ready room with interest. So far, all their meetings had been either on the bridge or in the observation lounge and it was the first time he'd actually been in this room.

It was not really any different to any other ready room he'd ever been in – a small working space located just off the bridge, dominated by a large desk which held the usual computer system, a small mountain of padds, a photo of two people that Krang guessed must be his parents and all the other paraphernalia Mackenzie considered necessary to do his job. There was also, Krang noted, a pair of clocks sitting side by side, one showing Federation time, the other Klingon.

Whilst the room might be the same from ship to ship, every captain decorated it to suit his own tastes, and the chosen items often had a lot to say about the occupant's character and personality. Captain Hunter, Krang's superior on his previous ship, the Ulysses, had been interested in genealogy and had a large, framed family tree on the wall, along with images of his family dating back several generations. Captain Picard on the other hand was well known not only for the tropical fish tank he'd had installed in the bulkhead behind his desk, but the shelf containing models of the various Enterprises.

Mackenzie's interest was very clearly bladed weaponry. Several such weapons hung on the wall, including to the Klingon's surprise, a mek'leth and the d'k tahg the Terran had worn on that first visit to Hegh'Ta. But it was the Terran sword hanging in pride of place above the desk that caught his attention – a long, slender weapon with a gently curved blade that gleamed with age.

Mackenzie noticed his interest. "It's a katana, a traditional weapon from the Japanese region of Earth."

"It's a beautiful looking weapon," Krang complimented. "It looks very old. Is it a family heirloom?"

"It's sixteenth century," the Terran said, smiling at the thought of his thoroughly modern parents collecting anything so old, and in their eyes, useless. "I found it in an antique shop on Regulus Prime. God only knows how it got there."

The sword had set him back about a year's wages, but he'd had little else to spend his credits on, and when he'd asked to handle the sword, it had seemed to call to him, fitting into his hand as though it had always been there. Buying it had been inevitable.

Stepping across the room, he lifted the sword down from the wall, and removing the blade from its sheath, he handed it to the Klingon. "Here, try it."

Krang accepted the weapon, examining it carefully. Unlike the bat'leth, it was sharp along its outer edge rather than the inner, and along that edge was a wavy line that he guessed was something to do with the way the sword was made. The disc-shaped guard was ornately carved, and the diamond pattern on the handle was, he discovered, a result of it being wrapped with a black cord made of some kind of leather.

Stepping back to give himself room, he swung the weapon experimentally. "It's beautifully balanced, although a little lighter than I am accustomed to." Carefully he ran his finger across the blade, testing the weapon's sharpness before swinging it again. "I could get used to this."

Handing the sword back to its owner, he moved back to the wall and without waiting for permission, removed the mek'leth. Examining it as carefully as he had the katana, he ran through a quick series of moves before shaking his head and putting the weapon back where he had got it from. "It looks nice, but the balance is slightly off, and it is not a good quality alloy," Krang explained his reaction. "I wouldn't like to have to fight with it."

"I get on all right with it" the Federation captain said, a little defensively. He had noticed the balance, but unlike the katana, it was simply a part of his display, hanging on the wall next to his d'k tahg in memory of the old Klingon who had saved his life and in doing so, sparked off a lifelong interest in bladed weapons.

"It looks nice, but I wouldn't trust my life to it," Krang told him. Although it was sharp, he suspected it had been made more for the tourist market than for actual combat. "At least," he qualified, "not unless I absolutely had to. Try my own mek'leth sometime and you'll understand the difference."

The Terran nodded, accepting that the criticism was meant in a constructive way. "I'll do that."

"That sword, though; I'd like to try it properly," Krang said. "Are you trained in its use or is it just an ornament?"

Captain Mackenzie shook his head. "No, I know how to use it." After the Dorvan III incident, his parents had confiscated K'vin's d'k tahg, because they did not consider it a suitable toy for a boy of his age. He'd never for a minute considered it to be a toy, but they'd taken it anyway. They had, however, allowed him to join a martial arts club where he'd learned fighting and self-defence skills and had eventually chosen kendo as his specialty. He'd become good at it and still trained regularly although he no longer had as much spare time to practice as he would like.

Going back to his desk, Mackenzie brought up the holodeck schedule on the screen and checked it. "Why don't you get your weapons and then you can try the katana. If you have the time, there's a holodeck free."

Krang gave a fierce smile, "For a weapon such as that one, I'll make time."

Frontera City

Antonio and Fina were physically fit, healthy children, and it took them a little bit over half an hour to get home. Cross country running was a major part of the school PE curriculum, so although they were tempted to run flat out, they knew they had to pace themselves otherwise they wouldn't make it home.

By that time, it was as though Armageddon had broken out. Frontera City was being subjected to heavy aerial bombardment, and a dense cloud of dust and smoke hung over the city centre where the attack had begun. All the Starfleet ground facilities were in that area, Antonio knew, so he supposed it was the obvious place for the enemy to target, but the attacks were starting to radiate outwards, and not all the explosions were behind them.

Worried that they weren't moving fast enough, they briefly considered stealing a shuttle. Antonio had flown their own shuttle a couple of times, albeit under Vavoy's strict supervision since he was still legally underage, but he knew enough of the basics that he thought he could do it in an emergency, which this most definitely was. What stopped them was turning back at the sound of a crash not too far away, only to see the burning ruins of a shuttle embedded in the roof of a house, and another one, also on fire falling from the sky. A couple more shuttles, were being targeted and fired upon by a terrifying-looking enemy fighter. They were domestic vehicles, probably filled with civilians and families fleeing for their lives, and they didn't stand a chance.

That the attackers were Jem'Hadar was obvious. Neither child had ever seen one close up, but they'd featured on enough news reports over the last year or two to be instantly recognisable. Deciding that being in the air was far too dangerous, they'd kept running.

IKS HoSghaj, Federation/Klingon border

"…emergency…under attack and in need of urgent assistance…"

The Vorcha-Class attack cruiser had been making its way along the Federation/Klingon border, patrolling the edge of what had once been known as the Neutral Zone, with the intention of turning off towards Khitomer at the appropriate time.

Captain Kantogh was bored, or at least, he had been until the distress call had been received. His ship was well named 'Powerful' and they deserved better than being relegated to patrol duty. HoSghaj should be out on the front lines, fighting for the glory of the Empire! Still, he'd made good use of the downtime, keeping his crew busy with training drills and routine maintenance.

Wondering what was going on at Starbase 24, because this far from the front lines, it couldn't possibly be as serious as the message indicated and would almost certainly turn out to be a false alarm, Kantogh nevertheless gave the order to investigate. It was not like he had anything better to do.

Twenty minutes later, HoSghaj dropped out of warp on the edge of the Frontera solar system.

The scene on their viewscreen was horrific, even by Klingon standards. The wreckage of a Jem'Hadar cruiser, still burning drifted past, close enough that the helm officer was forced to take evasive action. Kantogh was pleased by that – both the destroyed enemy ship even if it had not been him who destroyed it, and his officer's display of competence. He was not so pleased by the sight of two Starfleet vessels in equally poor condition, or the massive chunk that had been taken out of the upper levels of the starbase. Those would be the command levels, he knew, an obvious military target. Nor was he pleased by the smoke and flames that seemed to obscure half the planet.

The battle was not yet over, Kantogh saw after a moment. Jem'Hadar fighters were darting here, there, and everywhere like a swarm of glob flies, trading fire with the Federation ships, a mix of Starfleet and commercial vessels, who were desperately trying to defend the station and planet.

It was not just the smaller Jem'Hadar ships, although Kahless knew, they were dangerous enough. The Dominion Battleship sitting on the opposite edge of the solar system was huge, maybe twice the size of the Galaxy-class vessel that was attempting to engage it.

Not a false alarm then. Baring his teeth in a fierce grin, Kantogh sent his ship to battle stations. Today, it appeared, would be a good day to die!

"Communications officer, you will send a Priority One emergency message to High Command at Khitomer. Tell them to send every available warship. Food, shelter, and medical aid are needed as well." He snorted with bitter amusement at the idea of the Federation requiring Klingon medical assistance. "And any spare freighters that can transport refugees."

"Message sent, Captain."

With a sharp nod of acknowledgement, Kantogh surveyed his bridge. They were the best crew a captain could hope to serve with, and it would be an honour to fight and die with them.

"What do we do, Captain?" They all knew the answer, but it had become traditional for the youngest officer on the bridge to ask that question before going into battle.

"HoSghaj maH! We are Powerful!" Captain Kantogh roared, bringing his fist crashing down on the console, which fortunately was designed to take this sort of abuse and did not break. "We are an Attack Cruiser. We attack!"

The HoSghaj attacked.