Holodeck 1, USS Endeavour NCC71805
The scene was a peaceful one and Captain James Mackenzie could already feel himself relaxing as he set down his fishing basket by the riverbank. A faithful recreation of one of the best chalk streams in his native England, the river meandered through a lush green meadow, filled with wildflowers – the inevitable dandelions, ox-eye daisies and a handful of wild orchids, giving way to clouds of cow parsley and willowherb that lined the banks. A little further away he could see cows grazing peacefully, and, in the distance, behind a copse of trees, the spire of the village church. All was quiet, only the tinkling of the water, the singing birds and the occasional mooing of the cows disturbing the silence.
Opening his basket, Mackenzie removed a battered tin and surveyed its contents thoughtfully, before making his selection. The 'fly' he chose was made from a cluster of tiny feathers, carefully wrapped to resemble the mayfly nymphs that were the main food source of the fish he hoped to catch. With great care – the hook attached to the lure was barbless but still sharp – he lifted it from its place and fastened it to his fishing line. Examining his work, he gave a nod of satisfaction; all was as it should be, and he was ready to begin. With a practiced flick of the wrist, he cast out, sending the lure flying across the surface of the river. The water was shallow and crystal clear, bubbling merrily over the flat stones that in some places were only a few inches below the surface. He could see the fish that was his target, a large, beautiful speckled brown trout, hiding in a quiet spot behind a rock as it searched for food. Another flick of the wrist sent the lure dancing towards it.
Time passed – or maybe it didn't. Mackenzie could not have said how long he had been here; it could have been hours or minutes. This was the life. It had been far too long since he'd last been fishing, and he hadn't realised until now just how much he'd missed it. Peace and quiet, just him, the river, and the trout. The universe, the war, even his crew, for this brief, precious time, all those things could wait.
"Bridge to Captain Mackenzie…"
The voice, speaking in a deep, Welsh baritone, belonged to Major Philip Speares, his marines' commander and temporary first officer, and it sounded tense. Mackenzie bit back an imprecation. Quite apart from the fact that Speares was worse than a mother hen when it came to making sure his captain took regular time off to relax, he was a highly experienced officer, and he wouldn't be interrupting his captain's leisure unless it was urgent.
"We've detected something on long range scanners. It's not close enough to identify but out here, there's a good chance it's Dominion." There was a pause, and Mackenzie could hear an indistinct voice in the background speaking to Speares. Then, "Sir, tactical report that the ship has changed course and moving towards our current position. It's Jem'Hadar."
This time, he did curse, something rude in tlhIngan Hol. It was a harsh, strong language with lots of guttural sounds, perfect for swearing. He was by no means fluent, but thanks to the three months he'd spent on a Klingon ship back in his junior days, he spoke it reasonably well, even if it did always leave him feeling as though he'd been gargling rusty nails. "Understood. Go to red alert. I'm on my way."
There was no time to stop off at his quarters and change back into his uniform, and Mackenzie headed straight to the bridge, unconcerned that he was leaving a trail of wet footprints behind him. The holodecks used a combination of illusion, forcefields, and replicated materials, which meant that while the pretty chalk stream, surrounding countryside, and the trout he'd been about to catch were nothing more than holographic projections, at least some of the water was real. He was going to look ridiculous on the bridge in chest-high waders, although it would not be the first time that he or a member of the crew had fought a battle wearing casual clothing – and if Speares dared to comment on his attire, which at some point he undoubtedly would, he'd remind his number one of the time he'd turned up wearing a Roman toga!
By the time he'd reached his destination and the bridge doors slid open to allow him entrance, the enemy ship was already far too close and opening fire on them. It had moved fast, he thought grimly, glancing at the tactical display on the main viewscreen and swiftly making battle plans.
Detached from fleet service, and with orders to gather intelligence cause as much trouble as they could, Endeavour and her crew were on their own out here. There would be no calling for assistance, no cavalry to ride to their rescue. This was their mission, their purpose.
Thank the lord there was only one this time, Mackenzie thought, although that was bad enough. In theory, one against one was an even fight, but theory did not take into account the sheer power of a Jem'Hadar ship. They were smaller than the average Starfleet vessel, but any captain who had encountered them knew that they were also faster and more manoeuvrable, benefitting from ridiculously over-powered weaponry that cut through shielding like a hot knife through butter. The fate of the Odyssey served as a stark warning not to underestimate the enemy. The war had been just beginning when the Galaxy class ship had encountered a fleet of three Jem'Hadar attack ships, and despite its greater size, had been completely destroyed with no survivors. Starfleet was a small community, and everyone knew everyone else. Odyssey's second officer had been a friend and classmate of Mackenzie's back in his academy days… one more reason if he'd needed one, to take it personally.
They were an enemy that was programmed to fight; they had no other purpose and felt no fear. How did one fight an enemy that went into battle believing that they were already dead and that their victory would give them life? Despite Starfleet's denials, he knew with absolute certainty that it had been the Jem'Hadar soldiers who had attacked the Dorvan III colony all those years ago, killing his grandmother and slaughtering everyone they found, including K'Vin, the elderly Klingon who had saved his life. When help had finally come, he'd faithfully given them all the information that K'Vin had told him to remember – that their attackers had been soldiers rather than pirates, the personal cloaking devices and so on. They'd listened politely enough but they hadn't believed him, dismissing him as just another traumatised kid seeing monsters under the bed.
Years later, when the war began, he'd recognised the Jem'Hadar instantly. The spiny, reptilian faces, the grey-coloured skin, the pulsing white tubules in their necks that he now knew delivered the Ketracel White, a highly addictive enzyme used by the Founders to control them. Those things had haunted his dreams for years. Again, no one had listened. It wasn't possible, they'd said; there had been no Jem'Hadar presence in the Alpha Quadrant before the discovery of the Bajoran wormhole. They were wrong.
As it always did when he thought of them, his blood heated and anger rose, catching his breath and leaving the bitter taste of bile in his throat. The Jem'Hadar were monsters, and they'd come out from under the bed. Once again, they were killing people he knew and loved, and he would fight them… would never stop fighting them… until the bitter end. And if fate decreed that today was to be their final contribution to the war effort, then as long as they took their enemy with them, it would be, as the Klingons said, a good day to die.
Bridge, USS Endeavour NCC71805
"Evasive manoeuvres! Return fire!" The ship shook violently as Mackenzie shouted the order, causing him to stagger and almost fall as he crossed the bridge to take his place in the captain's chair. Shields, thankfully, were already raised, although already taking a pummelling under the sustained fire from the Jem'Hadar polaron weapons, and his bridge crew were already doing the jobs that they were trained to do. Another shot found its mark, a glancing blow this time but still enough to shake the ship.
"Hull breach on decks eleven and twelve," the lieutenant currently manning the ops station, a tall American who answered to the name of Petey, reported tensely. Deck eleven, home of the gym, the holodecks and banqueting hall, was currently unoccupied. Deck twelve, however, housed the ship's medical facilities. "Forcefields in place and holding firm."
His eyes firmly on the viewscreen, Mackenzie was already opening a channel. "Bridge to Sickbay. Are you all right down there?"
"If you are referring to the hole in the bulkhead…" T'Lia's voice came back immediately. The Vulcan healer sounded calm as always but if her voice contained an acerbic note, that was perhaps understandable. "I will admit that it is a little disconcerting to be able to see space without looking out a window. And we would be grateful if you could refrain from shaking the ship every few minutes; it makes operating difficult."
Relief flooded through him. "You're all right then?"
"We are all right," she confirmed. "Busy but fine."
In other words, go away and let me get on with my job. Satisfied, Mackenzie closed the channel and turned his attention back to the matter at hand, his mind racing as he tied to come up with a way to get rid of the enemy ship without blowing up his own.
The view on the main screen changed as Endeavour turned sharply to port, narrowly avoiding another barrage of the deadly polaron beams. They were not far, the captain realised, from an asteroid field, only a few hundred thousand kilometres. It was not large or particularly impressive, just a random collection of a few large rocks. An idea stirred. What if… Quickly he pulled up the data he was looking for. Yes, it just might work. Certainly, they had nothing to lose by trying it.
He opened another channel. "Bridge to engineering." There was no response and he hailed again. "Bridge to engineering. Respond please." Long seconds passed and then finally, a voice.
"Captain, we're a wee bit busy down here right now. In case ye hadnae realised, there's a ship out there trying to blow my warp core to pieces!" In the heat of battle, Argyle's usually soft, cultured Edinburgh accent had broadened into a thick brogue that would have been borderline incomprehensible to anyone who didn't know him.
"Yes, I had noticed," Mackenzie said dryly. "Now, about that…" Quickly, all too aware of the enemy ship coming round for another volley. he explained his idea.
"Aye," Argyle said after a moment's consideration. "If they follow us into the field, it'll work. Just dinnae be too close when it detonates."
The ship shook again as another shot hit them on the starboard underside. "Shields down to forty-three percent," Ensign Griffiths reported as his hands flew over the security console, gathering power from who knew where and diverting it to the shields.
There was no time to come up with a better plan. "All right, let's do it," Mackenzie ordered. "Helm, lay in a course for the asteroid field. Take us right into the middle of it, right over that big rock – as close as you can without actually hitting it."
Endeavour began to move in the required direction, gathering speed and giving every impression that it was running from the enemy. The Jem'Hadar ship was already turning to follow. So far so good. Mackenzie's hands tightened on the arm of his command chair, the whiteness of his knuckles the only sign of his tension as the asteroid grew larger and larger until it dominated the viewscreen.
"Engineering, are you ready?"
"Aye, Captain. Gravitic mines loaded and ready to launch."
"On my mark… NOW!"
As Endeavour momentarily slowed, skimming right over the top of the massive rock, a hatch opened and oh so quietly and gently, a series of mines dropped onto its surface. As soon as the third and final mine had made contact, Mackenzie gave the order to accelerate again.
"Jem'Hadar ship continues to follow," Griffiths reported. "It's getting closer, almost within range."
"Good. Activate the mines and get us out of here," Mackenzie ordered. "I don't want us caught up in the blast when they explode."
They were still accelerating away when their pursuer triggered the first mine. It did little damage to the ship, but it did ignite the hydrogen pockets located deep within the rock and causing a chain reaction of increasingly devastating explosions. Still fleeing, Endeavour shook violently once… twice… a third time, and then all was still.
As quickly as it had begun, the attack was over, and the damage assessment could begin. They'd been lucky this time, a few injuries, some of which were serious, but no fatalities. Inevitably, they'd taken some damage, notably the hole in decks eleven and twelve, and they'd need to head to a Federation starbase to pick up some parts they needed for the repairs. Listening to the reports, Mackenzie nodded with bitter satisfaction. They were alive and a few more of their enemies were dead. It was a good day to fight.