Admiral James T. Kirk is back aboard a starship yet again. Deep Space Nine is far behind him, and he now heads up an entire strike fleet of Starfleet vessels on an important mission against the Cardassians.
"Admiral's log. Upon learning of the Dominion's agreement to a military alliance, Starfleet Command has authorized an offensive strike of the utmost importance. The planetoid outpost of AR Five-Five-Eight, near the Chintoka Shipyards, has been a point of brutal fighting for several months now. The Starfleet marines there need to be relieved, but the Cardassians have anchored in. A simultaneous offensive by Captain Georgiou and Fleet Commander Cornwall in the Rakal system is drawing away significant enemy forces, which leaves AR Five-Five-Eight wide open. The Vulcan's Fury has been temporarily re-assigned as my command ship for this mission, and Captain Spock has been gracious enough to resume his duties as my subordinate for the time being. We carry with us two Kremlin-class destroyers, two of the remaining six Constitution-class vessels, five Loknar-class frigates, twelve Miranda-class corvettes, and fifteen Dominion warships and attack fighters. It is an impressive fleet, to say the least, but I am uneasy at having been thrust back into combat command…"
Kirk ended the log and straightened his uniform, one of the new, garish, maroon ones. Starfleet had apparently issued it to make it harder for the enemy to distinguish between officers and enlisted on the battlefield, but Kirk still wasn't sure how to feel about it. With padded white cuffs, a lapel badge over the shoulder to denote rank, and a black Starfleet-insignia'd belt, he felt more like a maroon monster than an officer. Then again, Starfleet never really put much thought into uniforms, so long as they were flashy…
He glanced, briefly, at the flask poking out of his drawer.
"I don't need it," He said to himself, and turned to leave.
But he did not leave.
Years of training had brow-beaten it into him that superior officers shouldn't even have alcohol in their quarters during a combat mission, much less even think about consuming it. But that was just the problem, Kirk hadn't led an officially sanctioned combat mission in years. Being back on one now…
Kirk looked at his reflection again and grimaced with a sigh.
"Dammit, Chekov," He admonished the ghosts of his mind softly, "I'm sorry for what happened. If I had been quicker, if I had denied your transfer in the first place, none of this would even be happening."
The flask caught his eye again.
"It shouldn't have happened at all, and now it feels like…" He chuckled to himself and shook his head, "It feels like back when we encountered that madman who called himself Khan Noonien Singh. Something about it all just felt so wrong, like we weren't supposed to meet him at all. I don't know, but all I know is at least then… At least then our little family was still together."
Kirk looked at the flask and bit the inside of his cheek.
"And there wasn't even a wagon for me to fall off of," He stared at the mirror again, as if he could see someone there, "I haven't even touched a drop of this stuff since that night a few days ago, haven't even considered it. But, I hope you'll forgive me, Pavel, because I just can't trust my nerves to not get the better of me once we get there."
Kirk entered the bridge just as the red alert alarms went off. Slow-flashing red lights waved over the room and the lighting dimmed ever so slightly in response, and the alarm chirped three times before silencing. On the viewscreen, the hypnotic warp field disappeared into realspace, and before them lay AR-558 and its myriad of Cardassian defenses.
"Admiral on the bridge," Spock announced, standing up from his chair so Kirk could sit down.
"Just in time I see," Kirk quipped, taking the seat and quickly familiarizing himself with the tactical situation from the holographic heads up display on the arm of his chair. "Status report, Miss Castell'uchi."
The Andorian had her white hair pulled back into a utilitarian topknot, all business as they moved in to attack. "Twenty-five Cardassian cruisers dead ahead. They're all clustered together in the drydock right now, but they're already moving to intercept. There are twelve automated plasma cannon defense platforms in the system."
Kirk nodded and swiped the HUD to the next page.
"Mister Saavik," He called out, "Time for battle group A to reach the first wave of defense cannons?"
"Thirty seconds, sir," The young Vulcan responded.
"Time for battle group 'B' to reach the far side of the asteroid?"
"Ten minutes, five seconds, sir."
"Time to intercept on Cardassian cruisers?"
"Three minutes, sir."
Kirk punched up the intraship communications system and called up a tactical report of the each battle group's command ships on the viewscreen. The Dominion cruiser Twelve read nominal under First Tiklan, as did the U.S.S. Monitor under Commodore Jose Mendez.
"All ships, this is Admiral Kirk," He began, before suddenly losing his voice in a brief moment of panicked doubt. He forced himself to continue, though the words sounded hopelessly staggered to him, "I hope this first engagement sees us all through to the next sunrise, but I know all too well that today each of us may lose a comrade, a friend. Do not be disheartened, and know that today we strike a blow that could send the Cardies reeling and end this destructive conflict. It's all riding on us and our new allies, and I have faith we can overcome. All battle groups, weapons free, fire at will."
He had little time to contemplate if his words were inspiring or depressing, though, as they were soon engaged against the Cardassians. Brilliantly blinding explosions tore through space, cut and illuminated only by bursts of phaser and disruptor fire. AR-558 forever hung in the background, disappearing during evasive maneuvers only to appear again as the ship righted itself back on course.
The Dominion ships easily cut through the Cardassians, while the Federation cruisers took multiple attempts to break through their shields. The defense cannons hammered away at Dominion shields to no effect while, to the unspoken horror of its allies, those same cannons ripped through a Miranda-class in seconds. The gallant souls aboard the Indiana barely had a moment to register their own deaths before they were swallowed in a soundless explosion.
The U.S.S. Dublin, U.S.S. Malcom Reed, U.S.S. Patton, U.S.S. Axanar, and Dominion ships Five, Three, and Seven cut across the outskirts of the battle, trying not to draw attention to themselves as they made a run at the other side of the barren planetoid. A trio of Cardassians cruisers broke off in pursuit, but a volley from the Vulcan's Fury's photon torpedo array quickly put an end to that effort, buying enough time for Dominion cruisers to break them into space dust.
Kirk, despite his reservations, entered a flow state. He called out orders and maneuvers and the crew dutifully obeyed them. He'd run brief defensive runs during his time at Deep Space Nine, against both Cardassian and Dominion alike, but those had always been urgent, last-ditch efforts. To be in control of a full offensive like this was an entirely different matter. Thankfully, Starfleet training never seemed to wear off.
Seven Cardassian cruisers down, but the Federation battle group was no better. Two of the Dominion attack fighters were gone, and all five Loknar-class frigates had been destroyed or disabled. Worse yet, as Kirk rechecked his tactical HUD, they had only just now cleared the halfway point between them and AR-558. Too many casualties, and they were still ramping up.
A golden plasma beam, humming with deadly promises, crashed through space to slice into the Vulcan's Fury. Shields briefly gave way before reforming, but it was enough time for a section of the hull to be damaged. Five souls lost, unrecoverable as they were incinerated immediately. The U.S.S. Monitor returned fire in her stead and destroyed the defense platform.
As a thank you, the Vulcan's Fury sent the Cardassian cruiser pursuing the Monitor into a tailspin, the phasers cleanly disabling the drive system in the tailfin of the ship. The massive Constitution-class accelerated ahead, flanked on both sides by Miranda class ships. The Vulcan's Fury did its best to stay in the Monitor's shadow to avoid the worst of the incoming fire.
The flanking maneuver by the secondary battle group proved successful as the smaller, lighter, ships finally came around between the Cardassians and AR-558. Caught between fire on both sides, more and more enemy cruisers began to fall in the pitched battle. Kirk's spirits began to rise as he realized they might actually be able to pull this off. There would be another battle to relieve the hundred and thirty Starfleet marines trapped on the world and resupply a fresh garrison, but that could come later- and if they had air superiority that would make it even easier.
One Dominion ship raced out ahead of the battle group and came to a dead stop between the Cardassian and Federation lines. Kirk was about to radio them when the ship's warp nacelles pulsated in rapid succession, turning from a dulcet purple to a white-hot pink. In the next moment, an electromagnetic pulse detonated and crashed across the Federation ships. Their momentum immediately snapped out from under them, the assorted ships careened uncontrollably, some of the smaller craft even tumbling end over end as their momentum, mixed with the gravity wells of the larger ships, forced them out of control.
Crash-webbing immediately deployed to keep the bridge crew of the Vulcan's Fury in their seats, but the sudden g-forces nearly collapsed their chests in anyways as they collided with the webbing. It knocked the wind out of many, but pained groans were still echoed as they tried to gather their wits. Kirk, teeth grit tightly together, opened his eyes to see that the Cardassian ships seemed to be unaffected, and were, in fact, now regrouping on their end… With the Dominion joining their ranks.
For the moment though, he could breathe. If he could breathe, he could think. If he could think, he might be able to find a way out of this.
The confident look on his face was immediately swallowed in a wave of doubt that nestled tightly in his stomach, but Kirk tried to hide that from the rest of the crew. It was easier, at least, because the entire bridge had been cast into darkness. The light of the system's sun, reflected on the planetoid, was their only illumination.
"Status report," Kirk called, "Scotty-" He started to say, before remembering that Scotty was still back on DS9, "Uhura, get down belowdecks and start a relay system. I need a casualty and damage report."
Uhura unlatched her crash-webbing and immediately began floating away from her chair. That, however, would do little to impede her. Even through coughing fits, she was determined to get the job done, "Aye, Admiral. Spock, help me get the emergency stairwell open."
Spock immediately moved to help her.
"Status report!" Kirk demanded again.
Lieutenant Castell'uchi wiped the blue blood from her brow, but gods it was flowing heavily. It stained her hair and dropped in clumps onto her tactical board. She could barely hear past the ringing, and she spoke much too loudly just to hear her own voice.
"All systems dead, Admiral. Backups offline as well. Artificial gravity and oxygen recyclers offline!"
Kirk rubbed his chest, the soreness already beginning to set in.
"Mister Saavik," He groaned to the Vulcan navigator, "Present course and position."
Saavik instinctively glanced at her instruments, but they were, obviously, dead. She looked out the viewport, as the viewscreen was also dead, and to the stars in order to gather the answers needed. Using the last known velocity in conjunction with how fast they appeared to be moving now in relation to the other ships in the attack force, Saavik quickly calculated their speed and mentally began ticking down the speed as she ran through the next part of the Admiral's order. She knew where the other ships in the fleet were supposed to be, and their last course and speed. Judging by the perigee of the Cardassian station and the last known distance of the Vulcan's Fury from it, she could only give a rough estimation of her answer. However, a hypothesis was, perhaps, the only answer she could give right now. The Admiral was unlikely to care for the fact that it was her best guess, but she informed him anyways.
"I must forewarn you, Admiral, that this merely a rough estimation based on the available data. Our momentum is slowing, but we are going to be significantly exposed compared to the rest of the fleet. The Vulcan's Fury had been increasing speed when the electromagnetic pulse was detonated, so we were carried further than the other ships."
"Mister Spock," Kirk craned his neck back towards him, "We're dead in the water here. Suggestions?"
Spock was just finishing opening the non-functioning doors for Uhura, who slipped under him. It had taken him considerable effort even with his Vulcan strength, but he hardly took a breath as he turned and floated over to Kirk's side.
"At present, our options are very limited, Admiral. Without propulsion or life support we are, as you say, dead in the water."
"I had a bad feeling you were going to say that. The rest of the fleet is probably in the same position, I imagine?"
Spock nodded.
Kirk turned back to face the viewport, watching as the Dominion-Cardassian line coalesced.
"Sir, if I may?" Saavik asked from her station, and Kirk indicated for her to continue, "The automated chief engineer system is an isolated power source, secured inside a Faraday cage. It is unlikely it was affected by the pulse. We may be able to utilize the generator to restore power."
"There's not enough power for it to jumpstart the whole bleedin' ship, Ensign," Doctor McCoy commented as he pasted a medi-gel patch onto Castell'uchi's wound, "You'd short out the generator in the attempt."
"Come now, Bones," Kirk chided, "Young minds, fresh ideas. Be tolerant."
He turned back to Saavik, "You've got five minutes at best, Ensign. Take Lieutenant Castell'uchi with you, she mentored under Scotty for a few months on the Enterprise. Prioritize life support and the backup systems, and," His eyes briefly looked back to Bones, and he added in a whisper, "Be careful, the last thing we need is to lose the last hope we have of restoring power in a timely manner."
Saavik nodded and unbuckled herself, floating over to Castell'uchi. She took her hand and guided her out the emergency exit, leaving only the four senior members of the bridge crew. Sulu unbuckled himself and pried open a panel on the wall, "I'm going to see if I can at least restore the artificial grav-plates in here. I miss Earth's oceans, but certainly not like this."
McCoy joined Spock and Kirk in the center of the bridge, grumbling and shaking his head.
"So, who gets to say I told you so when we get back to friendly space?" He said sardonically.
"Not now, Doctor," Kirk nearly shouted at McCoy. He forced himself to recompose but smacked the arm of his chair with his fist instead, "Dammit!"
"It appears that the Dominion have their own ideas about alliance," Spock observed, "I am intrigued, though, that they have not yet finished destroying our fleet."
"I guarantee you it's because one of those Cardassian blood suckers over there," Kirk unstrapped himself from the seat, "Wants to make a show of it. The second we get power back they'll be gloating their necks off, then they'll blast us."
He pushed himself forward to the viewport, squinting out at the distant starfield.
"I see the Patton still has its navigational strobes on," He commented, his breath briefly fogging up the glass. Indeed, in the distance, the slow, alternating blinks of red and white could still be seen on the damaged Miranda-class.
"Then let us hope they are endeavouring to find a solution as urgently as we are," Spock said from behind.
"Yah, and I bet they're just as peachy as we are," McCoy scoffed and floated over to help Sulu, "Let me give you a hand with that, son."
Kirk stared across the battlefield. The wreckage of damaged and destroyed ships now floated aimlessly between the two battle lines, and barren glow of AR-558 filled the background. The Monitor reminded him too much of the Enterprise, heavily damaged and floating in space, and he hoped their crew was alright. All around him he was stuck inside a repeating nightmare he'd lived with for the past year: Disabled in space, powerless, and surrounded by Cardassian warships, while all he could do was watch helplessly and hope against hope that they'd survive.