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Book I: How the Dreams Die

Prologue: How to lose a war in a single afternoon

=HDD=

This is a story about the end of an age, the awakening from a dream that lasted centuries. It is a tale illustrating what happened when humanity's illusion of Utopia was shattered... about the people who had to pick up the pieces of a fragmented Federation and the new age which dawned as the Dominion armadas advanced towards Earth...

But let's start at the beginning. Before the War, everything that followed would have been considered unthinkable. At best, lunacy fit for those Mirror Universe madmen. Yet, it all happened, with some of us playing crucial roles in the events that were about to unfold (even if it didn't seem so at the time!). Let me tell you, when the hostilities commenced, we were caught largely off guard. You all know how Starfleet was back then – a bloody exploration outfith, chock full with pleasure cruisers which had weapons and defensive systems added as an afterthought. Moreover, a huge part of the fleet was made up from dedicated science ships or hulls, which though refitted multiple times, were a century old...

Adm. John Sinclair, retired

Login: Central Actual
Password: Thunderchild
Codeword: Delta Blue
Classification: Level Black
Pending scan results...
Identity confirmed...
Logging you in Commander...

Accessing Secured Imperial Archive Database...
Password required...

Password Accepted...
Access Granted...
Searching...

Voice 1: I warned you.

Voice 2: You did. The politicians didn't listen.

Voice 3: They didn't want to listen.

Voice 2: It's been too long since the Federation's public felt truly threatened. As far as the average citizens are concerned, Starfleet managed to beat any threat, even the Borg.

Voice 1: We became victims of our own propaganda. Amongst a lot of other things.

Voice 3: Indeed. Though that's not why we are here. Besides we already had that conversation.

Voice 2: Let's cut to the chase.

Voice 3: We need your particular skills and what you represent.

Voice 1: I'll do whatever it takes to stop the Dominion.

Voice 2: We are counting on it.

Playback over... Data corrupted...

=HDD=

Captain's Ready room
USS Enterprise, Starfleet Flagship
En route to Second fleet's staging area
Location Classified

Jean-Luc Picard took a sip from a steaming muck filled with Earl Grey tea, while silently cursing the madness that had enveloped the galaxy as a whole. Even now, months after the hostilities started and after all the battles the Enterprise and her crew were through, it was hard to believe.

War. A senseless conflict which was trying its best to tear down the Utopia carefully build by the Federation. The future was supposed to be bright and peaceful. Filled with exploration and meeting new species.

Not this!

Picard was glaring at the datapad in his hands. It showed an endless list of shattered ship and broken men. Many of them were his friends. People with whom he had been in the academy, collegues he had served with on various ships.

"Do you see it now, Mon Capitan?" asked a hated voice.

"Q!" Picard snapped.

Whatever that infernal being wanted, it wasn't good for either Jean-Luc or his crew. Or any being in the vicinity either.

The Captain looked up from the data pad to see the painfully familiar sight of Q sitting on the other side of his desk. The omnipotent being was wearing the crimson uniform of Starfleet admiral, though it was old fashioned. It was something straight from the time when the Khitomer Accords were signed.

"Me?! Where?" Q exclaimed and looked around in a mock surprise.

"Q, I don't have time for your antics!"

"You don't know the half of it, Mon Capitan!" a vicious smile appeared on the uninvited visitor's face. "How does it feel, Jean-Luc, to stand at the Dawn of a new era?"

Picard narrowed his eyes. He had a bad feeling about this. Despite his seemingly nonchalant mannierism, this time there was something different about Q. His eyes shone with unrestrained glee. And the way Q spoke, his tone was like that of a kid who couldn't wait to share a big secret.

It all made Picard feel uneasy.

"Oh, you haven't heard yet?" Q looked surprised. He glanced at his left wrist, where now stood an old fashioned watch. "Ah, my bad, old friend. It's happening just as we speak! Let's go see history in the making!" with those words, Q snapped his fingers and they disappeared in a flash of light.

To Picard surprise, they appeared in the void of space. However before the Captain could react, his attention was grabbed by what was in front of them. They were giants overlooking a vast light-show. It took him a moment, before the Starfleet officer comprehended what he was seeing.

It was a great space battle between the Federation, their Klingon Allies and the Dominion and the misleaded Cardassians.

"Q, what is the meaning of this?"

The question was ignored. Instead, Q pointed a giant finger at a particular spot of the melee. "There. Watch closely or you might miss it. Here history is being made!"

Picard frowned, though he looked more closely at the battle. Whole squadrons of Starfleet capital ships, wings of fighters and smaller detachments of Klingon ships were throwing themselves into a breach within the enemy lines. For a moment it looked like they would succeed into splitting the Dominion force into two... until Picard's experienced eyes noticed the folly of that paticular attack.

The Starfleet vessels and their allies were flying straight into a lethal crossfire, while the enemy was attempting to surround them, using their significant numerical advantage. Jean-Luc looked more carefully at what Q was pointing at, noticing that a Deffiant Escort was leading the charge, flanked by two Klingon Birds of prey.

Two wings of Dominion fighters pounced on those ships, cutting the Klingon light crafts to pieces within seconds. The Federation Escort valiantly evaded the brunt of the enemy fire for few moments, a testament for her helmsman incredible skill and luck.

It didn't last. Lances of pure energy strafed over the struggling shields of the Deffiant Class. The defences, which had been hammered once too many times folded, allowing two purple beams to hit the Starfleet vessel amidship. It listed, suddenly slowing down.

That proved to be it's undoing.

Either by design or accident, one of the pursuing fighters flew straight at the crippled ship. It plowed into it at a steep angle, shattering both vessels before the pieces were immolated into the flames of breached warpcores.

The view of the battle zoomed out. It revealed that all Federation ships which entered the breach were destroyed. The rest of the Alliance forces, now outnumbered more than ever, were acting without direction.

"What is this?" Picard asked. There was a hint of dread in his voice. The Captain suspected that he knew very well what he just saw, and the consequences didn't bare thinking about.

"It's the end of the Line, Jean-Luc. The dawn of a new era. The Federation as a whole and the Humanity in particular had been slumbering for too long. It's time to awake from your comfortable dreams of Utopia," Q smirked. "The Federation as it is today, just lost the war. This is a defeat from which you can't recover while you maintain your high and mighty ideals. This time, there won't be a divine intervention. No Q or those unrully kids, the Prophets saving the day. Welcome to the future, Mon Captain!"

Q snapped his fingers and Picard was back in his ready room. He stood there, stunned for a moment before shacking his head and tapping his comm badge.

"Number One...

=IR=

Bridge

USS Millenium, Akira class cruiser

"Alex, find who is in charge of the fleer!" Commander Sinclair hissed through clenched teeth. Every movement, every whisper made the edges of his broken ribs grate at each other, sending stabs of fiery agony in his left side.

He forced himself to disregard the pain and focus on the job at hand. His friend and commanding officer, Captain Shran laid in a crumpled heap near his chair. The last slavo of dominion fire to hit their ship had caused their dampeners to fluctuate tossing the bridge crew around. The Andorian Skipper had the misfortune of landing even worse than John, breaking his neck. That left the Commander in charge of Millenium and her remainig crew.

"It's a mess, Commander! All designated ships are either destroyed or out of action. No one has taken command since we lost contact with the defiant."

Leutenant Alexis Felix was trying to keep her voice calm but he could hear her desperation.

"Bloody hell..." John cursed. Sinclair grunted in pain as he grabbed the side of the Captain's chair and made his way onto it. He stared at the forward screen showing him the mess in which the remains of the Federation fleet and their allies found themselves in. The Dominion lines were folding in, surrounding and cutting into pieces all the ships which tried to fight their way to DS 9. He didn't need to be a tactical genius to figure out what was about to happen. More than half the fleet would be gone in few minutes. The rest of them were lightly engaged with the enemy's forward elements while the bulk of their fleet was mopping up everyone who charged after the Defiant.

Of course, those forward Dominion elements were nothing to sneer at either. Especially with the fleet headless as it was.

John closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. Unless soemone did something, soon, the fleet was doomed. He shook his head. He was just a commander and a lot of captains were still alive, yet no one seemed to be doing anything constructive. Perhaps they are shocked, he thought. Just as he was. Untill moments ago he too believed that they would succeed despite the odds. The Federation had always managed to pull off something stunning at the most desperate situations.

Sinclair opened his eyes and starred at the screen. More ships were dying while he was wondering what to do. It was as if everyone in the fleet was waiting for a mirracle to happen and save the day. He grimaced. Was that it? If he was honest with himself, John knew that Operation Retunr was a longshot. An act of desperation that was crubling aroun him, killing whole fleets.