I'm really interested in how the various ST 'cast' react to that fallout...along with the death of their Federation. B/C, unless Q intervenes, the Federation dies at this point...even if they survive.
I get to conquer the Federation (SW and ST Crossover/SI)
- Thread starter Jaenera Targaryen
- Start date
Yinko
Well-known member
The interaction with the crew of the Enterprise would have been funnier if Q had taken her to an alternate version of them (sans the war) and introduced her as the conqueror of the Federation. On the other hand, this may have been an object lesson for the crew rather than for her.
Pretty sure it was more for Picard than anyone else.
And honestly, I always expected Q to offer Picard an internship!
And honestly, I always expected Q to offer Picard an internship!
namar13766
Well-known member
I wonder now if the New Zealand Penitentiary is the 'slap-on-the-wrist' prison for important people who are too well connected to be really punished and actual Federation prisons are a lot more terrifying.
...
How many of the Pluto Popsicle Prisoners are there not because they're directly dangerous, but because of some political whim and/or personal agenda? Because it's very possible some of them might be there because some of those ultra-secret organization members have decided to abuse their powers for personal gain.
No way that would ever happen!
Jaenera Targaryen
Well-known member
Maybe after the war, and when the Empire has already done some work building the peace. Kinda like what's happening in the second season of Picard, only instead of another iteration of the Terran Empire, we have the, well, Galactic Empire or whatever informal name the New Territories get called by then.
They are, actually, if Nu Trek is any indication. Not because of any measure of brutality, like something you'd expect in a Nazi concentration camp, or just North Korea in general. It's because the Federation would just throw you into a cryogenic pod and then forget about you for as long as they want to.
It's like C.S. Lewis said, the worst tyranny is the one where the tyrants genuinely care about the well-being of their victims. You could even say Darth Sidious is more merciful in comparison, because at some point he will let you die, because he's become bored of your agony and despair. The Federation? If they can justify it, they will never let you die, because in their minds that's exactly what you deserve and there's no arguing against it. They'll even pity you if you refuse to see things their way, and if you do, they'll congratulate for being 'mature' enough to do so.
That's...why they're called political prisoners.
Last edited:
namar13766
Well-known member
I don't mean because they were on the wrong side of the political spectrum at the wrong time. I meant because some of those agents had a personal grudge and decided to abuse their powers.
I suspect this war is going to force people to do some self-reflection and face some hard truths. Granted, I'm sure some might ignore or forget them, but they're not about to deny or refute them. Like Sisko, the Paragon (i.e.: Parody) of Virtue. As much as I love "In The Pale Moonlight" for how his emotional turmoil was portrayed in that episode, I felt like remarking "Too bad you didn't feel that strongly when you dropped so many bioweapons on a Maquis planet that it was rendered uninhabitable for human life and threatened to do it to all their planets unless Eddington surrendered." By the way, this is the same man by the way that chewed Worf out after his acquittal in potentially accidentally killing civilians by saying Starfleet never risks civilians even if it cost them victory or their lives.
Plus, people might start looking at past Federation decisions with new perspectives. The Maquis situation, for instance, basically set the precedent that if one has enough votes in the council that not only can they kick someone out of the Federation, but hand them over to a hostile foreign power. Furthermore, some possible future member civilizations may want to wonder that if it's possible for some Federation members have enough votes to not only kick you out but give you over to a hostile power, then they have to wonder why should they join the Federation in the first place?
Jaenera Targaryen
Well-known member
I would not be surprised if that were the case. It's pretty inevitable given Human nature, and as this story (and even certain canon episodes) shows, no matter how much they pretend otherwise, Terrans remain the same barely-civilized brutes they've always been. Half-savage, as the Metrons described them.
Ha! They can try using that same trick against the Empire if they want to. It'll make stamping out the Federation's poisonous ideology and nightmarish society all the easier.
Yeah, the Empire's really not digging that whole precedent. The Empire doesn't give up its worlds without a fight.
Chapter 15
Jaenera Targaryen
Well-known member
The Imperial Fleet’s arrival in the Sol System did not catch Starfleet by surprise, at least not completely. They – and the Federation – still had intelligence assets in the Orion Sector and its neighboring sectors, after all, and they’d reported the Empire massing their forces for a large-scale operation over the past two weeks. That said, there was little Starfleet could do.
Operations White and Typhoon were still ongoing, with the former having forced the Federation to restrict any and all remaining FTL communications assets to government and military use only. Typhoon had already knocked out any and all antimatter production and storage within the Federation’s core sectors in Terran, Vulcan, Andorian, and Tellarite space. Most starbases in those sectors had also been destroyed, forcing Starfleet’s assets therein to rely on limited shipboard antimatter production capabilities, and to stay close to developed worlds for other supplies.
All this resulted in a sense of desperation, bleak moods, and a simmering undercurrent of defeatism within Starfleet. A wave of desertions had even broken out when reports arrived on Mars of Orion’s decision to sign a treaty with the Empire, to say nothing of the almost simultaneous Imperial victory at the Battle of Orion.
Both the Federation and Starfleet had been quick to disavow Section 31 and its attempted reprisal killing of the Orion Council of Matriarchs, but this did little to help. That even extremists would go to such lengths confirmed the desperation of their situation to most, while others, especially non-Humans, bitterly wondered if they were expected to fight until their worlds were dust and their people dead and gone.
A single look at Earth and the shattered husk of Luna provided a grim preview of such a future.
But it didn’t have to be that way. Even with unofficial communications effectively nonexistent, backchannels and the like still allowed for many ways to get information uncensored by the brass hats of the Federation. From there, they learned of the surprisingly-generous terms Orion had managed to receive from the Empire, in many ways more so than the requirements prospective Federation members had to meet.
In short, Imperial rule suddenly didn’t seem so bad. Not when the Empire was willing to compromise, unlike the Federation which seemed like it wanted to fight to the death.
It certainly seemed that way, considering it had tried to make an example of Orion. Orion: the oldest existing civilization in the Alpha Quadrant, whose people were exploring the stars and building legends when Vulcans were still working bronze, when Humans still went about in skins, and when Romulans didn’t even exist.
Despair and disillusionment made formidable factors, leading to the aforementioned desertions. Naturally, Starfleet Security had cracked down harshly, with Fleet Admiral Nechayev ordering summary executions by firing squad on any deserters caught. This had led to a wave of protests, with Captain Picard even bypassing the chain of command to appeal directly to Fleet Admiral Shanthi.
Shanthi relented, especially after several crews threatened to mutiny if any Starfleet personnel were ever subjected to something so barbaric as execution by firing squad. Instead, deserters were instead to be placed in lockup, to await court-martial after the war.
But the damage had been done. Faith in what was left of Starfleet Command was irreparably damaged, while another blow was struck against the Federation by Rigel’s declaration of neutrality in the ongoing war between the Empire and the Federation. Large numbers of Rigellians in Starfleet deserted, with those left falling under suspicion that further caused morale to drop.
Then the Empire struck.
The Empire’s advance guard dropped out of hyperspace over ninety thousand kilometers from Mars, hundreds of light ships ranging from CR90 Corvettes to Nebulon-B Escort Frigates and Carrack Class Light Cruisers. Then the main force followed, hundreds more of the same ships along with the larger Dreadnought and Vindicator Class Heavy Cruisers. Last came the fleet’s battleship core, composed of Star Destroyers of the Venator, Victory, and Imperial Classes, along with more escorts.
All in all, nearly two thousand ships had arrived, more ships than were committed just weeks ago during Operation Yellow and the Battle of Earth, assembled in a gigantic siege formation. Starfleet’s Home Fleet, rebuilt at the expense of several of the Federation’s numbered fleets, immediately rose to the challenge, charging into the heart of the Imperial Fleet like a swarm of angry insects.
“They’re surprisingly aggressive!” Torrhen growled.
“Have the center fall back.” I said.
“Admiral?” the chief of staff asked in surprise.
“The enemy is planning to force a close confrontation.” I quickly said. “By engaging us up close, they hope to throw the battlefield into chaos, and negating our advantages in artillery, durability, numbers, and even technology.”
“I see.” Torrhen said with narrowed eyes. “First and Second Battlegroups, fall back in order. Shields to full, standby to commence artillery bombardment. Signal the wings to standby to englobe the enemy.”
I nodded in approval before narrowing my eyes. “But,” I began. “Shanthi shouldn’t be that stupid.”
“Ma’am?” Torrhen asked.
“The enemy will notice we’re drawing them in.” I replied. “And at the rate they’re closing in, they’ll be blasted from all sides while getting cut off. No…they’ll fall back…any second now…”
All eyes on the command deck focused on the tactical display, and then I nodded as I watched Starfleet’s Home Fleet coming to a halt and begin to fall back. “Now!” I barked. “All ships, concentrate your fire! Target the enemy’s advance guard!”
The Imperial Fleet opened fire, space igniting with emerald lances as turbolasers spat them out in the direction of the enemy. Shields collapsed after two of three hits, then burning atmosphere, molten metal, and searing plasma were blazing out into space. Blinding explosions followed soon after, dozens then hundreds of ships going out in runaway matter-antimatter reactions as the Home Fleet suffered devastating losses.
“All ships, charge in!” I barked. “Maximum battle speed!”
The Imperial Fleet surged forward, but the Home Fleet was in full retreat, heading back to Mars orbit. As the Imperial Fleet closed in, long-range fire began splattering against Imperial shields, and even destroying smaller ships in single shots.
“The enemy has reformed their formation.” Torrhen said, looking and sounding curious. “Look at this, admiral. Starfleet is using their Akira and Nebula Class Medium Cruisers as mobile shields, covering their Galaxy Class Medium Cruisers, which appear to have been upgraded with new weapons.”
“Weapons that seem to be comparable to our turbolasers, if with still lesser firepower and firing rate.” I replied with a nod. “Meanwhile, their Excelsior Cruisers and Miranda Frigates are guarding their flanks with high-speed maneuvers, while using torpedoes to make up for their otherwise anemic phaser armament.”
“Your orders, ma’am?” Torrhen asked.
“Launch space-combat fighters,” I said after a moment’s thought. “Have them press the enemy flanks, but don’t get too aggressive, at least not yet. Just keep the enemy busy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I nodded as Torrhen relayed my orders, while I took in the rest of the battle. It was an artillery duel at this point, with the enemy only able to hold out by overcharging the shields on their Akiras and Nebulas – most likely at the expense of their armaments and other systems – and use them as shield ships for the Galaxies.
Then I tapped the control panel, expanding the tactical view to show me the rest of the Martian theater. “Admiral…are those…?” Sara asked in surprise.
“Yes.” I said with a nod. “Starfleet’s enveloped the planet behind them behind a colossal minefield. Our sensors our reading over a million mines, with many more potentially undetected given battlefield interference.”
“If I may say so,” Sara opined. “We must have left a mark with Operation Yellow. Such a dense concentration of mines would make using the Targaryen Gambit a suicidal prospect.”
I snorted. “An astute observation, lieutenant.” I said before zeroing in on a battle station in Martian orbit. It was similar to those we’d previously encountered in Earth orbit, only this one wasn’t equipped with a phaser or a fusion-powered laser.
Instead, it had some kind of…dish array, almost like a superlaser, even, but power ratings made the notion laughable. That said, it was a threat to smaller vessels, almost like a discount turbolaser, even.
“…looks like some kind of charged particle weapon, admiral.” Sara said as we watched the weapon concentrate energy within its dish before firing it off in a beam that battered the shields of a Nebulon-B.
I hummed in thought, before bringing up a tactical view of a Galaxy. I nodded as I watched it charge and fire the same kind of beam weapon, and opening up a burning gash in a Vindicator’s hull. Then I switched the view to another Galaxy, this one featuring some kind of attachment under the forward part of its saucer section.
“A phaser enhancement of some kind?” Torrhen observed as he watched the ventral phaser array charge up only to channel the energy through the barrel-like attachment before firing it off.
“A desperate but effective one.” I agreed. “It looks like the enemy has finally realized the stupidity of building non-missile ranged weaponry without a gun barrel.”
“They’re wising up.” Sara worriedly.
“Don’t be so concerned, lieutenant.” I said. “Starfleet’s desperate, and it shows. From what we know of their ships, it looks like they have to risk burning out their navigational deflectors to use that charged particle beam of theirs, while their…phaser cannon, modifications appear to be literally bolted on to their hulls.”
I shook my head. “They’re like cornered rats.” I said.
“With all due respect, ma’am,” Sara began. “Cornered rats are very dangerous.”
I smiled at the younger woman. “I agree.” I said. “Open up a channel to Vice Admirals Dabrini and Felidoron.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
A moment later and the holograms of Vice Admirals Lorth Dabrini and Zdenka Felidoron, of the Seventh and Eighth Battlegroups appeared. “Admirals,” I began. “Here are your orders.”
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Vice Admiral Edvar Hans of the Ninth Battlegroup polished his monocle before replacing it over his right eye. The Imperial Fleet was advancing through the Andor Star System in an echelon right formation, moving towards the gas giant of Andor around which Andoria orbited.
“Admiral,” his adjutant began. “The enemy fleet continues to hold formation around the Andorian moon system.”
Hans nodded. “Distance?” he asked.
“We are within six million kilometers.” The adjutant replied.”
“Fire.”
“Fire!”
The Ninth Battlegroup had the honor of firing the first shots of the Battle of Andor, concentrating their fire against individual flotillas of the Andorian Defense Fleet. The latter had dispersed it component flotillas and squadrons between the moons of Andor, thus keeping the Imperial Fleet from composing its fire against a single target.
At least, that was the idea.
Instead, it only meant the Empire could destroy them piecemeal.
“The enemy fleet is falling back, trying to get behind their moons.” The adjutant replied.
“Signal Admiral Daala.” Hans ordered. “Have her sweep through the system, and chase the enemy out.”
“Yes, admiral.” The adjutant said. “Interdictor squadrons redeploying…now.”
The fleet continued to slowly advance, with interdictor cruisers redeploying to define the Special Attack Force’s approach vector. It took about twenty minutes to move them into position, and then they deployed their mass gravity shadow generators, the Special Attack Force jumping to hyperspace shortly thereafter.
In less then a second, the Fast Attack Force dropped out of hyperspace on top of Andor’s moon system. Turbolasers and concussion missiles blazed out across space, the Victory Class Star Destroyers of the Special Attack Force and their escorts sweeping across the moon system along the z-axis. Explosions bloomed in space as Andorian ships exploded, the flotillas losing cohesion as they struggled to evade and intercept.
On the Revenge’s command deck, Daala laughed at the sight of explosions all around them. And while she was the only one laughing, the rest of her command staff had sympathetic smiles, while the morale of her crews was similarly high.
“Fire, fire, fire away!” she gleefully ordered. “Everywhere around us there are only enemies, so just make to hit when you fire! Destroy each and every enemy ship in range!”
Enraged by their losses, the Andorian Defense Fleet charged after the Special Attack Force, explosing themselves to fire from the approaching Imperial Fleet. The Ninth Battlegroup opened fire again, tearing apart the Andorian flank, and as they struggled to form up into an organized order of battle, the Tenth and Eleventh Battlegroups swept forward and inward along and past the Ninth Battlegroup’s left flank in a sweeping advance that simply overran the Andorian Defense Fleet.
“Signal all guns to switch to close-range fire.” Hans ordered on his flagship, the Indomitable’s command deck. “Launch space-combat fighters.”
“Yes, sir.” The adjutant said. “Launching now…the Special Attack Force is moving to intercept enemy reinforcements.”
“Open a channel to Admiral Daala.” Hans ordered after a glance at the tactical display, and a moment later the younger woman’s profile appeared in holographic form. “The enemy reinforcement fleet outnumbers you three-to-one, admiral. I strongly recommend that you retreat.”
Daala raised an eyebrow at Hans’ wording, before blinking in comprehension. “In our fleet,” she began, drawing herself up into the very image of the iron and unflinching ideal of the Imperial Officer Corps. “The words ‘retreat’ and ‘surrender’ do not exist.”
“May the Force serve you well, admiral.”
Daala snapped a salute, and Hans saluted back. The channel then closed, Hans watching as Daala’s Special Attack Force charged in, taking heavy fire but closing the distance in a matter of minutes. A wintery smile of approval crept over the aging veteran’s face as he watched Daala’s fleet smash through the front lines of the Andorian reinforcements, the enemy’s cohesion breaking apart as Daala tore through them and even taking out their flagship, looking set on actually breaking through the center of the enemy formation.
A woman’s place is in the kitchen or in bed?
That fat fuck Vandron doesn’t know what he’s talking about.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
In the Vulcan Star System, the Twelfth Battlegroup formed a gigantic cross in space, set to engulf the Vulcan Defense Fleet before them.
And they would have, had the Vulcans not proven themselves actually the rational being they’d always claimed to be.
Not a shot had been fired since the Imperial Fleet had arrived in-system, and never would be.
“Admiral,” the adjutant said as he walked up to his commanding officer. “We’ve received a response from the enemy commander.”
“And?” Vice Admiral Gunther Loran asked, turning away from the windows of his flagship, the Colossus.
“The Vulcan High Council has agreed to our terms for their surrender.” the adjutant began. “The Vulcan Federation will thus enter into negotiations with the Empire over a similar settlement as that reached with the Orion Syndicate.”
“Excellent news.” Loran said with a nod. “Send a transmission to that effect to the supreme flagship, and redeploy the fleet to predetermined positions.”
“Yes, sir.”
Loran nodded again as the adjutant walked off, and then looked to the distance, and the barely-visible glow of the desert world of Vulcan. Many younger officers had expressed skepticism at Operation Vhagar’s details, but Vulkan psychology and cultural norms had played to their advantage just as the senior staff had predicted it would.
One: the Empire possessed overwhelming technological and material superiority against the Federation on paper.
Two: said superiority had been proven in practice on the battlefield against the Federation Starfleet.
Three: any and all simulations would show that any and all confrontations between the Vulcan Defense Forces and the Imperial Armed Forces would end in the latter’s victory.
Four: logic would thus dictate that the Vulcans find a non-violent resolution to secure their interests independently of the Federation, and reaching a settlement with the Empire, avoid needless loss of Vulcan life and property.
Now, with the Twelfth Battlegroup advancing on Vulcan with the Vulcan Defense Fleet itself escorting them in, the Vulcan Star System, and its surrounding sector, had been won with only minimal loss of life from Operation Typhoon. Most importantly, that the Vulcans, arguably second only in influence to the Terrans within the Federation, had decided to come to terms with the Empire instead of fighting on, would be as mortal a blow against the collapsing façade of the Federation as Operation Yellow’s destruction of Starfleet Command had been.
In short, Operation Vhagar was a stunning success.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“Admiral,” the adjutant said to Vice Admiral Dabrini. “We’ve confirmed the number of mines around the planet to number around four million. We’ve also confirmed the presence of around two thousand defense satellites, and between two to six hundred defense stations.”
“That’s fine.” Dabrini said. “Four million mines…many of those will be of the self-replication type too.”
Dabrini paused and smiled. “We have enough mine density to hang Starfleet by their own rope.” He said mockingly with a glance at the tactical display, showing the Seventh and Eighth Battlegroups redeployed to the opposite side of the planet. “Have our bombers been loaded with ion missiles?”
“That is confirmed, sir.”
Dabrini nodded and turned to the hologram of Admiral Targaryen, which was shot through with static from the interference of battle. “Your orders, ma’am?” he asked.
“Launch all bomber squadrons,” Targaryen ordered. “And have them clear the way forward.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
In less than a minute, hundreds of bombers launched from the Seventh and Eighth Battlegroups. It took them a few minutes to close the distance, and then they were launching their ion missiles. The missiles closed and then detonated in blue flares of ionized particles, tens of thousands of mines exploding simultaneously just seconds later.
This set off a chain reaction that set Mars’ orbital space ablaze, leaving the surface but leaving the planet’s denizens in shock and awe as fire blazed in the skies above, and letting them witness the death of Starfleet against the Imperial juggernaut. The chain reaction swept across Mars orbit, sustained by the tens of thousands of self-replicating mines that reproduced at geometric rates just before they detonated, their replicas doing likewise and only feeding the cleansing fire that opened the way before the Empire.
Admiral Targaryen nodded as the chain reaction finished, leaving Mars orbit clear, all the defense satellites and stations alike destroyed alongside the Starfleet minefield. “All ships,” she began. “Advance. Commence a surprise attack on the enemy fleet’s rear.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Debrini snapped while standing to attention. “You heard the admiral: advance!”
The Seventh and Eighth Battlegroups moved forward, cruising through Mars orbit at maximum battle speed, their fighters and bombers sweeping ahead to attack ahead of the fleet. On the Empress Teta, Debrini tugged at his moustache thoughtfully while watching the tactical display with a satisfied smile.
Similarly, on his flagship Valiant, Vice Admiral Felidoron had even opened a battle of Alderaanian white and poured out glasses for his command staff in advance celebration of victory. Raising the bottle high, cheers erupted from the crew pits, before the admiral turned his eyes to the tactical display, showing something dreamed of but rarely if ever achieved by military officers through history.
Complete double-envelopment.
Operations White and Typhoon were still ongoing, with the former having forced the Federation to restrict any and all remaining FTL communications assets to government and military use only. Typhoon had already knocked out any and all antimatter production and storage within the Federation’s core sectors in Terran, Vulcan, Andorian, and Tellarite space. Most starbases in those sectors had also been destroyed, forcing Starfleet’s assets therein to rely on limited shipboard antimatter production capabilities, and to stay close to developed worlds for other supplies.
All this resulted in a sense of desperation, bleak moods, and a simmering undercurrent of defeatism within Starfleet. A wave of desertions had even broken out when reports arrived on Mars of Orion’s decision to sign a treaty with the Empire, to say nothing of the almost simultaneous Imperial victory at the Battle of Orion.
Both the Federation and Starfleet had been quick to disavow Section 31 and its attempted reprisal killing of the Orion Council of Matriarchs, but this did little to help. That even extremists would go to such lengths confirmed the desperation of their situation to most, while others, especially non-Humans, bitterly wondered if they were expected to fight until their worlds were dust and their people dead and gone.
A single look at Earth and the shattered husk of Luna provided a grim preview of such a future.
But it didn’t have to be that way. Even with unofficial communications effectively nonexistent, backchannels and the like still allowed for many ways to get information uncensored by the brass hats of the Federation. From there, they learned of the surprisingly-generous terms Orion had managed to receive from the Empire, in many ways more so than the requirements prospective Federation members had to meet.
In short, Imperial rule suddenly didn’t seem so bad. Not when the Empire was willing to compromise, unlike the Federation which seemed like it wanted to fight to the death.
It certainly seemed that way, considering it had tried to make an example of Orion. Orion: the oldest existing civilization in the Alpha Quadrant, whose people were exploring the stars and building legends when Vulcans were still working bronze, when Humans still went about in skins, and when Romulans didn’t even exist.
Despair and disillusionment made formidable factors, leading to the aforementioned desertions. Naturally, Starfleet Security had cracked down harshly, with Fleet Admiral Nechayev ordering summary executions by firing squad on any deserters caught. This had led to a wave of protests, with Captain Picard even bypassing the chain of command to appeal directly to Fleet Admiral Shanthi.
Shanthi relented, especially after several crews threatened to mutiny if any Starfleet personnel were ever subjected to something so barbaric as execution by firing squad. Instead, deserters were instead to be placed in lockup, to await court-martial after the war.
But the damage had been done. Faith in what was left of Starfleet Command was irreparably damaged, while another blow was struck against the Federation by Rigel’s declaration of neutrality in the ongoing war between the Empire and the Federation. Large numbers of Rigellians in Starfleet deserted, with those left falling under suspicion that further caused morale to drop.
Then the Empire struck.
The Empire’s advance guard dropped out of hyperspace over ninety thousand kilometers from Mars, hundreds of light ships ranging from CR90 Corvettes to Nebulon-B Escort Frigates and Carrack Class Light Cruisers. Then the main force followed, hundreds more of the same ships along with the larger Dreadnought and Vindicator Class Heavy Cruisers. Last came the fleet’s battleship core, composed of Star Destroyers of the Venator, Victory, and Imperial Classes, along with more escorts.
All in all, nearly two thousand ships had arrived, more ships than were committed just weeks ago during Operation Yellow and the Battle of Earth, assembled in a gigantic siege formation. Starfleet’s Home Fleet, rebuilt at the expense of several of the Federation’s numbered fleets, immediately rose to the challenge, charging into the heart of the Imperial Fleet like a swarm of angry insects.
“They’re surprisingly aggressive!” Torrhen growled.
“Have the center fall back.” I said.
“Admiral?” the chief of staff asked in surprise.
“The enemy is planning to force a close confrontation.” I quickly said. “By engaging us up close, they hope to throw the battlefield into chaos, and negating our advantages in artillery, durability, numbers, and even technology.”
“I see.” Torrhen said with narrowed eyes. “First and Second Battlegroups, fall back in order. Shields to full, standby to commence artillery bombardment. Signal the wings to standby to englobe the enemy.”
I nodded in approval before narrowing my eyes. “But,” I began. “Shanthi shouldn’t be that stupid.”
“Ma’am?” Torrhen asked.
“The enemy will notice we’re drawing them in.” I replied. “And at the rate they’re closing in, they’ll be blasted from all sides while getting cut off. No…they’ll fall back…any second now…”
All eyes on the command deck focused on the tactical display, and then I nodded as I watched Starfleet’s Home Fleet coming to a halt and begin to fall back. “Now!” I barked. “All ships, concentrate your fire! Target the enemy’s advance guard!”
The Imperial Fleet opened fire, space igniting with emerald lances as turbolasers spat them out in the direction of the enemy. Shields collapsed after two of three hits, then burning atmosphere, molten metal, and searing plasma were blazing out into space. Blinding explosions followed soon after, dozens then hundreds of ships going out in runaway matter-antimatter reactions as the Home Fleet suffered devastating losses.
“All ships, charge in!” I barked. “Maximum battle speed!”
The Imperial Fleet surged forward, but the Home Fleet was in full retreat, heading back to Mars orbit. As the Imperial Fleet closed in, long-range fire began splattering against Imperial shields, and even destroying smaller ships in single shots.
“The enemy has reformed their formation.” Torrhen said, looking and sounding curious. “Look at this, admiral. Starfleet is using their Akira and Nebula Class Medium Cruisers as mobile shields, covering their Galaxy Class Medium Cruisers, which appear to have been upgraded with new weapons.”
“Weapons that seem to be comparable to our turbolasers, if with still lesser firepower and firing rate.” I replied with a nod. “Meanwhile, their Excelsior Cruisers and Miranda Frigates are guarding their flanks with high-speed maneuvers, while using torpedoes to make up for their otherwise anemic phaser armament.”
“Your orders, ma’am?” Torrhen asked.
“Launch space-combat fighters,” I said after a moment’s thought. “Have them press the enemy flanks, but don’t get too aggressive, at least not yet. Just keep the enemy busy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I nodded as Torrhen relayed my orders, while I took in the rest of the battle. It was an artillery duel at this point, with the enemy only able to hold out by overcharging the shields on their Akiras and Nebulas – most likely at the expense of their armaments and other systems – and use them as shield ships for the Galaxies.
Then I tapped the control panel, expanding the tactical view to show me the rest of the Martian theater. “Admiral…are those…?” Sara asked in surprise.
“Yes.” I said with a nod. “Starfleet’s enveloped the planet behind them behind a colossal minefield. Our sensors our reading over a million mines, with many more potentially undetected given battlefield interference.”
“If I may say so,” Sara opined. “We must have left a mark with Operation Yellow. Such a dense concentration of mines would make using the Targaryen Gambit a suicidal prospect.”
I snorted. “An astute observation, lieutenant.” I said before zeroing in on a battle station in Martian orbit. It was similar to those we’d previously encountered in Earth orbit, only this one wasn’t equipped with a phaser or a fusion-powered laser.
Instead, it had some kind of…dish array, almost like a superlaser, even, but power ratings made the notion laughable. That said, it was a threat to smaller vessels, almost like a discount turbolaser, even.
“…looks like some kind of charged particle weapon, admiral.” Sara said as we watched the weapon concentrate energy within its dish before firing it off in a beam that battered the shields of a Nebulon-B.
I hummed in thought, before bringing up a tactical view of a Galaxy. I nodded as I watched it charge and fire the same kind of beam weapon, and opening up a burning gash in a Vindicator’s hull. Then I switched the view to another Galaxy, this one featuring some kind of attachment under the forward part of its saucer section.
“A phaser enhancement of some kind?” Torrhen observed as he watched the ventral phaser array charge up only to channel the energy through the barrel-like attachment before firing it off.
“A desperate but effective one.” I agreed. “It looks like the enemy has finally realized the stupidity of building non-missile ranged weaponry without a gun barrel.”
“They’re wising up.” Sara worriedly.
“Don’t be so concerned, lieutenant.” I said. “Starfleet’s desperate, and it shows. From what we know of their ships, it looks like they have to risk burning out their navigational deflectors to use that charged particle beam of theirs, while their…phaser cannon, modifications appear to be literally bolted on to their hulls.”
I shook my head. “They’re like cornered rats.” I said.
“With all due respect, ma’am,” Sara began. “Cornered rats are very dangerous.”
I smiled at the younger woman. “I agree.” I said. “Open up a channel to Vice Admirals Dabrini and Felidoron.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
A moment later and the holograms of Vice Admirals Lorth Dabrini and Zdenka Felidoron, of the Seventh and Eighth Battlegroups appeared. “Admirals,” I began. “Here are your orders.”
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Vice Admiral Edvar Hans of the Ninth Battlegroup polished his monocle before replacing it over his right eye. The Imperial Fleet was advancing through the Andor Star System in an echelon right formation, moving towards the gas giant of Andor around which Andoria orbited.
“Admiral,” his adjutant began. “The enemy fleet continues to hold formation around the Andorian moon system.”
Hans nodded. “Distance?” he asked.
“We are within six million kilometers.” The adjutant replied.”
“Fire.”
“Fire!”
The Ninth Battlegroup had the honor of firing the first shots of the Battle of Andor, concentrating their fire against individual flotillas of the Andorian Defense Fleet. The latter had dispersed it component flotillas and squadrons between the moons of Andor, thus keeping the Imperial Fleet from composing its fire against a single target.
At least, that was the idea.
Instead, it only meant the Empire could destroy them piecemeal.
“The enemy fleet is falling back, trying to get behind their moons.” The adjutant replied.
“Signal Admiral Daala.” Hans ordered. “Have her sweep through the system, and chase the enemy out.”
“Yes, admiral.” The adjutant said. “Interdictor squadrons redeploying…now.”
The fleet continued to slowly advance, with interdictor cruisers redeploying to define the Special Attack Force’s approach vector. It took about twenty minutes to move them into position, and then they deployed their mass gravity shadow generators, the Special Attack Force jumping to hyperspace shortly thereafter.
In less then a second, the Fast Attack Force dropped out of hyperspace on top of Andor’s moon system. Turbolasers and concussion missiles blazed out across space, the Victory Class Star Destroyers of the Special Attack Force and their escorts sweeping across the moon system along the z-axis. Explosions bloomed in space as Andorian ships exploded, the flotillas losing cohesion as they struggled to evade and intercept.
On the Revenge’s command deck, Daala laughed at the sight of explosions all around them. And while she was the only one laughing, the rest of her command staff had sympathetic smiles, while the morale of her crews was similarly high.
“Fire, fire, fire away!” she gleefully ordered. “Everywhere around us there are only enemies, so just make to hit when you fire! Destroy each and every enemy ship in range!”
Enraged by their losses, the Andorian Defense Fleet charged after the Special Attack Force, explosing themselves to fire from the approaching Imperial Fleet. The Ninth Battlegroup opened fire again, tearing apart the Andorian flank, and as they struggled to form up into an organized order of battle, the Tenth and Eleventh Battlegroups swept forward and inward along and past the Ninth Battlegroup’s left flank in a sweeping advance that simply overran the Andorian Defense Fleet.
“Signal all guns to switch to close-range fire.” Hans ordered on his flagship, the Indomitable’s command deck. “Launch space-combat fighters.”
“Yes, sir.” The adjutant said. “Launching now…the Special Attack Force is moving to intercept enemy reinforcements.”
“Open a channel to Admiral Daala.” Hans ordered after a glance at the tactical display, and a moment later the younger woman’s profile appeared in holographic form. “The enemy reinforcement fleet outnumbers you three-to-one, admiral. I strongly recommend that you retreat.”
Daala raised an eyebrow at Hans’ wording, before blinking in comprehension. “In our fleet,” she began, drawing herself up into the very image of the iron and unflinching ideal of the Imperial Officer Corps. “The words ‘retreat’ and ‘surrender’ do not exist.”
“May the Force serve you well, admiral.”
Daala snapped a salute, and Hans saluted back. The channel then closed, Hans watching as Daala’s Special Attack Force charged in, taking heavy fire but closing the distance in a matter of minutes. A wintery smile of approval crept over the aging veteran’s face as he watched Daala’s fleet smash through the front lines of the Andorian reinforcements, the enemy’s cohesion breaking apart as Daala tore through them and even taking out their flagship, looking set on actually breaking through the center of the enemy formation.
A woman’s place is in the kitchen or in bed?
That fat fuck Vandron doesn’t know what he’s talking about.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
In the Vulcan Star System, the Twelfth Battlegroup formed a gigantic cross in space, set to engulf the Vulcan Defense Fleet before them.
And they would have, had the Vulcans not proven themselves actually the rational being they’d always claimed to be.
Not a shot had been fired since the Imperial Fleet had arrived in-system, and never would be.
“Admiral,” the adjutant said as he walked up to his commanding officer. “We’ve received a response from the enemy commander.”
“And?” Vice Admiral Gunther Loran asked, turning away from the windows of his flagship, the Colossus.
“The Vulcan High Council has agreed to our terms for their surrender.” the adjutant began. “The Vulcan Federation will thus enter into negotiations with the Empire over a similar settlement as that reached with the Orion Syndicate.”
“Excellent news.” Loran said with a nod. “Send a transmission to that effect to the supreme flagship, and redeploy the fleet to predetermined positions.”
“Yes, sir.”
Loran nodded again as the adjutant walked off, and then looked to the distance, and the barely-visible glow of the desert world of Vulcan. Many younger officers had expressed skepticism at Operation Vhagar’s details, but Vulkan psychology and cultural norms had played to their advantage just as the senior staff had predicted it would.
One: the Empire possessed overwhelming technological and material superiority against the Federation on paper.
Two: said superiority had been proven in practice on the battlefield against the Federation Starfleet.
Three: any and all simulations would show that any and all confrontations between the Vulcan Defense Forces and the Imperial Armed Forces would end in the latter’s victory.
Four: logic would thus dictate that the Vulcans find a non-violent resolution to secure their interests independently of the Federation, and reaching a settlement with the Empire, avoid needless loss of Vulcan life and property.
Now, with the Twelfth Battlegroup advancing on Vulcan with the Vulcan Defense Fleet itself escorting them in, the Vulcan Star System, and its surrounding sector, had been won with only minimal loss of life from Operation Typhoon. Most importantly, that the Vulcans, arguably second only in influence to the Terrans within the Federation, had decided to come to terms with the Empire instead of fighting on, would be as mortal a blow against the collapsing façade of the Federation as Operation Yellow’s destruction of Starfleet Command had been.
In short, Operation Vhagar was a stunning success.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“Admiral,” the adjutant said to Vice Admiral Dabrini. “We’ve confirmed the number of mines around the planet to number around four million. We’ve also confirmed the presence of around two thousand defense satellites, and between two to six hundred defense stations.”
“That’s fine.” Dabrini said. “Four million mines…many of those will be of the self-replication type too.”
Dabrini paused and smiled. “We have enough mine density to hang Starfleet by their own rope.” He said mockingly with a glance at the tactical display, showing the Seventh and Eighth Battlegroups redeployed to the opposite side of the planet. “Have our bombers been loaded with ion missiles?”
“That is confirmed, sir.”
Dabrini nodded and turned to the hologram of Admiral Targaryen, which was shot through with static from the interference of battle. “Your orders, ma’am?” he asked.
“Launch all bomber squadrons,” Targaryen ordered. “And have them clear the way forward.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
In less than a minute, hundreds of bombers launched from the Seventh and Eighth Battlegroups. It took them a few minutes to close the distance, and then they were launching their ion missiles. The missiles closed and then detonated in blue flares of ionized particles, tens of thousands of mines exploding simultaneously just seconds later.
This set off a chain reaction that set Mars’ orbital space ablaze, leaving the surface but leaving the planet’s denizens in shock and awe as fire blazed in the skies above, and letting them witness the death of Starfleet against the Imperial juggernaut. The chain reaction swept across Mars orbit, sustained by the tens of thousands of self-replicating mines that reproduced at geometric rates just before they detonated, their replicas doing likewise and only feeding the cleansing fire that opened the way before the Empire.
Admiral Targaryen nodded as the chain reaction finished, leaving Mars orbit clear, all the defense satellites and stations alike destroyed alongside the Starfleet minefield. “All ships,” she began. “Advance. Commence a surprise attack on the enemy fleet’s rear.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Debrini snapped while standing to attention. “You heard the admiral: advance!”
The Seventh and Eighth Battlegroups moved forward, cruising through Mars orbit at maximum battle speed, their fighters and bombers sweeping ahead to attack ahead of the fleet. On the Empress Teta, Debrini tugged at his moustache thoughtfully while watching the tactical display with a satisfied smile.
Similarly, on his flagship Valiant, Vice Admiral Felidoron had even opened a battle of Alderaanian white and poured out glasses for his command staff in advance celebration of victory. Raising the bottle high, cheers erupted from the crew pits, before the admiral turned his eyes to the tactical display, showing something dreamed of but rarely if ever achieved by military officers through history.
Complete double-envelopment.
and there goes what remains of the Federation fleet, and due to the Federation's radical pacifist, state-enforced, and overall weak culture plus the empires seemed lighthandedness at least compared to what the federation thought and probably propagandised would happen there's likely to be little guerrilla resistance
Jaenera Targaryen
Well-known member
And it will not be the first time those traits of their civilization would be used against them. Remember that deep down, the SI is and remains a 21st Century woman. And not one of the elite oligarchy at that (chances are those guys would be all too entranced by the Federation), but just a common woman like you'd find working behind a cashier at the local Starbucks, or behind a desk in an office.
In short, she knows exactly what appeals to Human nature, unclouded by philosophical bullshit or political double-speak.
I won't say anymore, but suffice to say, the Federation's so-called ideals won't be rising from the grave any time soon.
TyrantTriumphant
Well-known member
I'm kind of impressed with how the Federation has been innovating in response to the Empire's invasion. It's still too little too late, but still admirable.
If they'd have started doing this during the Dominion war then the Federation might have actually stood a chance.
If they'd have started doing this during the Dominion war then the Federation might have actually stood a chance.
Jaenera Targaryen
Well-known member
Eh...debatable. The phaser lance didn't help when the Federation was at war with the Klingons in that AU in All Good Things...
namar13766
Well-known member
The Federation has a fundamental lie about their society, one which they spread self-deluding disinformation about.
The Federation is hopelessly naïve, and would rather ignore the frankly disturbing idea that such an 'enlightened' society would be capable of something as bad or worse than the horror stories in their historical archives. See, it all loops back around to the... well, let's be honest here, lies the Federation tells itself. The Federation, it's Human members especially, believe that they have evolved beyond such things, that they are new kind of society for a new age unburdened by the sins of the past. In reality very little time has passed, and very little has actually changed since those days, but actually admitting that would be detrimental to the Federation zeitgeist as a whole.
Well, Cardassia showed itself to be a rival to the Federation, and a fairly competent one at that. Furthermore, they were clearly an 'evolved' species, with a large interstellar empire. The Federation doesn't want to believe that such a society can be as cruel, if not crueler than Humanity was in the 20th and 21st century. To admit as much would be tantamount to saying that either something is fundamentally wrong with the Cardassians, or that it's possible that all their claims of 'evolution' are bunk, and that they themselves are capable of such cruelty as well. Which simply isn't something that the Federation is willing to accept. Ironically it's a lot like how in WWII nobody believed reports about the Nazi Concentration Camps at first, because no one wanted to believe that people were even capable of things like that, so it must have been an exaggeration... right? It's the same idea of 'if I bury my head in the sand far enough, maybe the problem will go away', especially because, if they admit that the Cardassians really were 'that bad', then they also have to deal with the fact that they all but handed them entire planetary populations of Federation citizens over on a silver platter in the name of a peace treaty that wasn't even worth the paper it was printed on.
Besides, beneath its veneer of utopian optimism, Star Trek is terrifying in a vaguely WH40K way. The Alpha Quadrant powers are 'merely' a few hundred or thousand year old interstellar civilizations carefully built over the ruins of countless other bygone sapient races from the past few billion years, occasionally stumbling across a functional doomsday weapon that typically kills billions before it can be stopped. Meanwhile, for the sake of their mutual continued non-extinction, all the nation-states are maintaining the polite fiction that they only need phasers or photon torpedoes to fight wars while stockpiling said ancient weapons and hoarding the Phlebotinum it intentionally 'forgets' [read: suppresses] to avoid a Singularity. Plus everyone's just a single scientific discovery away from accidentally elevating themselves into immature godlings who, typically, are enfant terrible one temper tantrum away from murdering a whole starship/planet so they can have their way with the hot yeoman they're crushing on. And the only people standing between galactic civilization and its own (self-)destruction? Starfleet. Starfleet, from its coup-prone admiralty down to its ignoble redshirts, is fighting to preserve the ultra-pure humanist ideal against any and all forces that would tear it down, doing whatever it takes to prevent a situation arising where the gloves will come off. Because, when everyone else has fallen to their knees, who else is going to ask 'God' why He needs a starship?
The Federation is hopelessly naïve, and would rather ignore the frankly disturbing idea that such an 'enlightened' society would be capable of something as bad or worse than the horror stories in their historical archives. See, it all loops back around to the... well, let's be honest here, lies the Federation tells itself. The Federation, it's Human members especially, believe that they have evolved beyond such things, that they are new kind of society for a new age unburdened by the sins of the past. In reality very little time has passed, and very little has actually changed since those days, but actually admitting that would be detrimental to the Federation zeitgeist as a whole.
Well, Cardassia showed itself to be a rival to the Federation, and a fairly competent one at that. Furthermore, they were clearly an 'evolved' species, with a large interstellar empire. The Federation doesn't want to believe that such a society can be as cruel, if not crueler than Humanity was in the 20th and 21st century. To admit as much would be tantamount to saying that either something is fundamentally wrong with the Cardassians, or that it's possible that all their claims of 'evolution' are bunk, and that they themselves are capable of such cruelty as well. Which simply isn't something that the Federation is willing to accept. Ironically it's a lot like how in WWII nobody believed reports about the Nazi Concentration Camps at first, because no one wanted to believe that people were even capable of things like that, so it must have been an exaggeration... right? It's the same idea of 'if I bury my head in the sand far enough, maybe the problem will go away', especially because, if they admit that the Cardassians really were 'that bad', then they also have to deal with the fact that they all but handed them entire planetary populations of Federation citizens over on a silver platter in the name of a peace treaty that wasn't even worth the paper it was printed on.
Besides, beneath its veneer of utopian optimism, Star Trek is terrifying in a vaguely WH40K way. The Alpha Quadrant powers are 'merely' a few hundred or thousand year old interstellar civilizations carefully built over the ruins of countless other bygone sapient races from the past few billion years, occasionally stumbling across a functional doomsday weapon that typically kills billions before it can be stopped. Meanwhile, for the sake of their mutual continued non-extinction, all the nation-states are maintaining the polite fiction that they only need phasers or photon torpedoes to fight wars while stockpiling said ancient weapons and hoarding the Phlebotinum it intentionally 'forgets' [read: suppresses] to avoid a Singularity. Plus everyone's just a single scientific discovery away from accidentally elevating themselves into immature godlings who, typically, are enfant terrible one temper tantrum away from murdering a whole starship/planet so they can have their way with the hot yeoman they're crushing on. And the only people standing between galactic civilization and its own (self-)destruction? Starfleet. Starfleet, from its coup-prone admiralty down to its ignoble redshirts, is fighting to preserve the ultra-pure humanist ideal against any and all forces that would tear it down, doing whatever it takes to prevent a situation arising where the gloves will come off. Because, when everyone else has fallen to their knees, who else is going to ask 'God' why He needs a starship?
Jaenera Targaryen
Well-known member
In short, they've forgotten one of the oldest truisms in Human history, "Know Thyself."
Anyway...why does your post seem so familiar? Like...I've read it before on another site...did you post that on the original SB thread? Or SB/AH's Star Trek thread?
namar13766
Well-known member
Yeah.
I posted it both on the original thread for your story on SB, and on the story thread for Two Worlds.
Jaenera Targaryen
Well-known member
Oh, I see. That explains that.
Anyway, onto your argument, personally I consider the problem being that the Federation - and behind it, Section 31 - has the goal of making utopia reality. Except that's the problem: by its very definition, utopia cannot exist. Any society that claims to be one, or even has the hallmarks of one, is lying.
And once you start lying, the more lies you have to keep telling just to keep the facade from falling apart. Even then, when someone really starts asking questions, like Q did when he forced Starfleet to meet the Borg earlier than expected, then what? Lies don't have substance, that's why they're called lies in the first place.
Lord Okkirke
New member
Personally, ever since I read a Brave New World in school when I was 16, I have found that Star Trek lost all appeal to me because I couldn't help but wonder how anybody living in the Federation who doesn't agree with the Federations party line is likely to be treated.
IrishChaos
Active member
They are forced to drink the Koolaid and the counsellors adjust them or they emigrate to a new colony and basically leave the Federation.
Chapter 16
Jaenera Targaryen
Well-known member
Massive storm systems swirled across the Earth’s atmosphere, the dark and brooding mass of clouds randomly flickering with lightning flashes. Here and there, rainbow light shimmered as radiation danced over the planet’s ionosphere, while fireballs flickered as bits and pieces of Lunar debris burned up in the air.
That, or the slagged remains of Federation starships.
Hulks and debris drifted across space, dancing with the inertia of the Battle of Earth just weeks, neither the Federation nor Starfleet having the time or resources to conduct even the basic cleanup. Not with the war going on. In the distance, the scarred corpse of the Moon somehow maintained orbit, a gaping blown into its face, its depths glowing a faint red with residual heat.
Ion engines blazed hot as a pair of TIE Fighters flew escort duty, flying alongside a Federation shuttle along a specially-cleared route, and towards the gleaming forms of the Imperial Fleet. Normally, the fleet would be arrayed in parade formation, but given the hazard of the Earth-Luna System, they were instead arrayed protectively, smaller ships screening the larger ships within the formation.
Explosions randomly flared in space as turbolasers blasted debris or hulks that got too close, while those small enough to not be a threat simply dashed themselves harmlessly against the fleet’s navigational deflectors. The fighters and the shuttle flew towards and into the formation, more fighters swooping in to join the escort as they approached the Imperial flagship, the Star Destroyer, Courageous.
The fighters peeled off even as the shuttle slowed, and came to a halt under the Star Destroyer’s cavernous hangar bay. Then it floated up, through the energy field that maintained the hangar’s atmosphere, and then slowly moved forward to the designated landing space, before landing with a soft thud.
Then the shuttle’s door opened, moments before the President of United Earth, Noel Boucher, stepped out, wearing a formal suit. A pair of Starfleet officers accompanied him, a nervous and twitchy lieutenant and a grim-looking read admiral who was the highest-ranking officer left in the Sol System after Fleet Admiral Shanthi and her command staff’s death in the Battle of Mars.
The Empire greeted their presence with all due decorum, Stormtroopers, Imperial Army troops, and even Imperial Navy armsmen in full battle gear standing in disciplined phalanges to either side of the hangar. Closer, and forming an aisle forward between them, there were twin files of Imperial officers standing to attention, the army and navy officers indistinguishable in their olive-grey uniforms, while the Stormtrooper officers stood out in their black uniforms.
Maintaining a stoic air between them, United Earth’s President and the ranking Starfleet officer stepped forward and down the aisle, to where a chair and table had been prepared. Documents and pens lay neatly on the table, while behind the table stood another file of Imperial officers, all flag-ranked, with the Commander of the Imperial Expeditionary Force standing front and center.
Admiral Jaenera of House Targaryen, Viscountess of Summerhall.
It was the first time anyone in the Federation or Starfleet had a full and clear view of the enemy commander, and she struck a beautiful and terrifying sight. Her eyes, especially, with their simply unnatural violet irises that seemed to have an inhuman sharpness to them.
It was enough to bring them up to a halt, and have the Starfleet lieutenant present to swallow dryly. Then bowing to the inevitable, President Boucher sat down, and briefly read the documents waiting for his signature. The words were all in what the Empire – the Coruscanti Humans – called the High Galactic alphabet and the Galactic Basic language, but which he otherwise knew as the Roman alphabet and the English language.
Fighting back the urge to cry, or to rage and leap at the Imperial butcher standing in front of him, President Boucher took the pen provided, and placed his signature at the indicated lines. Then standing, he stepped back, while Rear Admiral Jean-Marc Masse stepped forward in his turn to sit and sign.
After over two hundred years, so ended United Earth, all with a single scrap of paper.
The Instrument of Unconditional Surrender.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Even as United Earth was surrendering to the Galactic Empire, skirmishes continued to take place across the Sol System.
One such skirmish was taking place in interplanetary space near Uranus, where a trio of Imperial Vindictator cruisers were chasing down a Starfleet Prometheus. As much as the Empire hated to admit it, Starfleet warp drives had one advantage over hyperdrive. While so very much slower in comparison, they were much more precise, allowing planet-to-planet jumps which hyperdrive could not do.
At least, not without external assistance, as proven by the Targaryen Gambit.
That said, warp drive also had one major weakness: ships using them didn’t need to have a tracking device to be tracked through subspace. And while the Empire didn’t have – yet – subspace-tracking sensors, their new allies in Orion did. So when Fleet Admiral Nechayev commandeered the newly-completed Prometheus Class Medium Cruiser Mnemosyne, the Empire was quick to respond.
An interdictor cruiser forcibly dragged the Mnemosyne out of warp near Uranus, where an Imperial interception force waited. Almost immediately, the Mnemosyne went to what was called multi-vector assault mode…
…which didn’t really help much when the Empire had both superior numbers and firepower. In addition to the Vindicators and the interdictor, the latter was closely escorted by CR90s corvettes and Carracks. One of the Mnemosyne’s sections was quickly blasted apart by turbolaser fire as it attempted to take out the interdictor, with the second section destroyed as it tried to buy time for the Mnemosyne’s main section to get out of the interdictor’s range.
The three Imperial cruisers gave chase, turbolasers lashing out in precise volleys to knock out the Mnemosyne’s shields. The ship’s crew and computers desperately rerouted power to the shields to try and keep them active longer, but against turbolaser fire it just wasn’t enough.
As the ship’s shields failed, the lead Vindicator fired off a sustained volley from one of its ion cannons. This caused the Mnemosyne’s remaining nacelles to explode as the ship’s primary EPS relays blew out, knocking out main power and the main computer alike. A tractor beam then latched out, drawing the Mnemosyne in for boarding.
Aboard the ship, Section 31 commandoes and Starfleet Security rushed to form defensive positions, while Fleet Admiral Nechayev was hurried to the transporter room. It was a risk, but they needed to get her out of there. There was simply no telling how much the Empire had learned from all the Section 31 captives they’d taken at Orion, and Fleet Admiral Nechayev falling into Imperial hands simply could not be allowed.
Sparks flew from one of the ship’s entryways as Imperial troops began cutting their way into the ship, commandoes and security personnel alike bracing themselves while holding Type-2 and Type-3 Phasers to themselves. Then the door exploded inwards, moments before white-armored Stormtroopers burst in.
Orange pulses flew through the air as the Starfleet personnel opened fire, the leading Stormtroopers falling with cries of pain as their shields and armor failed against concentrated phaser fire. But more Stormtroopers were pouring through, the ones in front going prone to lay down suppressing fire, those behind them adding to the curtain while firing crouched. As more Stormtroopers arrived, they advanced by fire and movement, precise shots taking out any Starfleet personnel who tried to peek out from cover, before thermal detonators cleaned out the Starfleet positions.
The Stormtroopers advanced, leaving their wounded behind to be recovered and taken away for medical assistance. All across the ship, Imperial troops were boarding en masse, with the bridge falling especially quickly after the Stormtroopers blew through the ceiling with demolition charges.
Main engineering fell quickly as well, albeit with heavy Imperial losses: the Stormtroopers accidentally ruptured a plasma line, flooding the engineering space with plasma and killing everyone inside. This eventually forced Imperial engineers to go in with armored suits to close the line and secure the interior.
On the plus side, they were absolutely certain no one was hiding in any of engineering’s spaces, not when the whole place had been flooded with plasma.
Overall, it took only about three hours to fully clean out and secure the ship.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
A punch to the face.
“Where were you going?”
A punch to the gut.
“Where is Fleet Admiral Nechayev?”
A punch to the face.
“What was your plan?”
A punch to the groin.
“Tell us!”
“Fuck you!” the Captain of the Mnemosene spat in his interrogator’s face.
Another interrogator sighed. “Look, captain.” He began. “This doesn’t have to be hard.”
“Do your worst, Imperial dog!” the captain spat again. “I’m not going to talk, so you might as well…!”
He broke off abruptly as the first interrogator punched him in the gut again. “…Imperial…dog…” the captain wheezed. “…I’m…a prisoner of war…where’s your…Alderaan…Conventions…now?”
“The Alderaan Conventions only cover prisoners of war belonging to legitimate military forces.” The second interrogator explained. “And while Starfleet is a legitimate military force, you are Section 31, a group of fringe extremists disavowed by Starfleet and its parent Federation. In short, you’re not covered by the Alderaan Conventions.”
“And in other words,” the first interrogator said, grabbing the captain by the hair and pulling his head back. “You’ve no protections.”
He drew his fist back to strike…
…only to be restrained with a firm hand on his wrist by his fellow interrogator. “Come on, captain.” He began. “This isn’t going to end well for you. So just tell us what you know, and make it easier for yourself. It’s not like there’s much point in holding out, your core worlds have fallen, and the Federation practically done for already.”
“…yeah…sure…keep thinking that way, Imperial dog.” The captain spat, and causing both interrogators to blink in surprise. “But you’ll see soon enough. The Federation’s going to win this war…we’ll bring down your Empire…no way we can lose…regimes like yours always fall before us…history’s on our side…”
The two interrogators looked at each other, with the first one tilting his head. The second one just shook his head, then heading to the door, opened it. “Well…if that’s how you feel…” he said with a sigh. “…then I guess we’d best get serious.”
“Do your worst!” the captain shouted, before his eyes widened as a spherical droid floated into the room.
The second interrogator chuckled. “Oh, we will.” He promised. “And you’ll both wish you’d talked, and that I stayed in charge of interrogating you.”
The door slammed shut, and keeping the screaming inside.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
I looked up from the report I’d received, looking at Sara with wide eyes. And to think I was just about looking forward to watching the victory parade down the Champs Elysees, through the Arc de Triomphe, and watching the Imperial flag fly from the Eiffel Tower.
Damn Section 31.
“Watch Station Argus…” I echoed with a sigh. “…well, I’m not surprised. They did have a prison for political and…cultural, prisoners on Pluto, so it follows they’d have some kind of…listening post, somewhere in Sol monitoring all subspace communications for various purposes.”
“Your orders, ma’am?” Sara said.
“Inform Admiral Tye of the Fifth Battlegroup to detach a force of ships to seize Watch Station Argus.” I said. “Also, when boarding the station, I want Spacetroopers to take the lead.”
Sara’s eyes went wide. “Spacetroopers, ma’am?” she asked in surprise.
“Yes, Spacetroopers.” I confirmed. “I’m not taking any chances. Winning this war is easy enough, just crush Starfleet, force Earth to unconditionally surrender, make treaties with everyone else, and everything else will follow. Winning the peace, though, now that’s hard.”
“With all due respect, ma’am, but is that what Plans Z and MO are for?”
“True…but Section 31’s existence complicates matters…hence a new plan Torrhen and I are currently drafting, Plan Osk.”
“I…see…”
I nodded before narrowing my eyes. “Section 31’s existence,” I continued. “Along with every other…measure, the Federation has resorted to in order to maintain the system of smoke and mirrors to preserve the façade of a utopian society should work to our advantage. Provided we play our cards right, that is.”
Sara blinked and then narrowed her eyes in understanding. “People don’t like being lied.” She said. “I see your point, ma’am.”
“Quite.” I said before gesturing dismissively. “You have your orders, lieutenant.”
Sara stood to attention. “Yes, ma’am!” she said, before turning and leaving. Alone in my office on the Courageous, I relaxed in my seat thoughtfully, before pulling up the data on planetary operations. Most of it was pretty routine, Stormtrooper garrisons being deployed in key areas, along with Imperial Army units in supporting positions.
Others, though…
…well, only preliminary reports were coming in so far, but…resocialization camps in Antarctica, Siberia, the Australian Outback, and other such places?
I knew the Federation was just another authoritarian government pretending to be otherwise, but to go this far…
…even I didn’t think they had it in them.
But…if so…then the Federation isn’t even an authoritarian state at all…not even close…
…it’s a totalitarian state.
Just what kind of future is this?
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Constantly hidden on the opposite side of Neptune from the Sun, Watch Station Argus was a modified Regula-I Class Space Station. Its modifications included reinforced shielding, heavy armor plating, advanced sensor and listening systems, as well as heavy weapons such phaser lances and anti-proton cannons.
One of the latter even crippled a Vindicator Cruiser shortly after it dropped out of hyperspace, with its shields down. Venators immediately returned fire, turbolasers and proton torpedoes hammering Argus Station as the task force hastily raised shields. It took a few moments to bring Argus Station’s shields down, followed by ion cannon strikes to disable its primary systems. Meanwhile assault boats closed in, latched on with magnetic clamps, before using boarding charges to open up passageways into the station.
Section 31 commandoes and new model battle androids quickly set up defensive positions…
…and found themselves facing down the Empire’s best of the best of the best.
“Contact with enemy forces.” A Spacetrooper – officially Zero-G Assault Stormtroopers – sergeant called in. “Engaging.”
Even as he spoke, he was already loading concussion grenades into his shoulder-mounted grenade launchers, while simultaneously taking aim. Then he fired, his shields easily tanking Type-3 Phaser fire, before the enemy position collapsed from the artillery volley. The rest of the squad was already mopping up, with short and precisely-targeted bursts from gauntlet-mounted blasters.
Proximity sensors sounded the alarm, and the sergeant responded on instinct, blocking a melee attack by a droid of some kind. Briefly grappling with the humanoid machine, the sergeant slammed into the nearest bulkhead with enough force to crumple the metal, before using laser cutters to cut the droid apart.
“Be advised.” He called in again. “Enemy forces include battle droids. Moving to objective.”
The Spacetroopers moved on, turning a corner and advancing down a corridor detected the enemy dug in to form a crossfire up ahead. Gas grenades were launched in response, blood toxins quickly crippling if not outright killing the Section 31 commandoes, while also obscuring line of sight.
“Launching proton torpedo.” The sergeant said. “Brace!”
“Braced!” the squad responded, deploying magnetic locks.
The sergeant fired his torpedo, and blew out an entire bulkhead. Men screamed as they were dragged screaming into space, but several of the Federation droids were able to secure themselves.
The Spacetroopers advanced, blasters shooting the remaining droids to pieces, before cutting their way through a blast door. Alarms screamed as the air beyond began to be sucked out, but the Spacetroopers ignored it.
“Approaching objective.” The sergeant said. “Standby.”
Another blast door blocked their way, and again the Spacetroopers cut through it. Phaser blasted at them, Section 31 commandoes and droids falling back as the air was sucked out, the Spacetroopers returning fire with their blasters. Most of the commandoes were already dead by the time the air was gone, leaving them to asphyxiate as the last of the droids were put down.
“Objective secured.” The sergeant said, he and most of the squad forming a perimeter while the squad tech specialist accessed the local systems and disengaged the lockdown.
“Access Port 12 is secure.” He reported.
“Acknowledged.” The sergeant replied. “Standing by for reinforcements.”
“Reinforcements inbound.” The response came from tactical command.
“Acknowledged.”
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
ISB Agent Hiram Thorn didn’t look happy. And why would he be? He’d come all the way to Neptune in anticipation of actually interrogating a Section 31 member as highly ranked as a Starfleet Fleet Admiral…
…only to be badly disappointed.
“So…this is Fleet Admiral Nechayev…?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.” The navy doctor said, looking very ill. Thorn couldn’t blame him. Who knew that trying to conduct an emergency transport through an active mass gravity shadow was a bad idea?
Nechayev had apparently been fused to the floor on one of Argus Station’s transporter rooms, forcing Section 31 to literally disassemble the room to get her out. And that was only the first of the transporter mishap’s…effects…
…for one thing, Nechayev’s skin and uniform had somehow exchanged places, with her uniform where her skin should be, and leaving her wearing her own skin on top. Thankfully, the fleet admiral had died in the botched transport, as the autopsy report proved.
Apparently, the botched transport had completely rearranged her brain, which had resembled that of the electronics of her tricorder, while her bones had included alloys and polymer compounds from the floor plating she’d been fused into.
“…they’re never getting me to use any of those…things.” Thorn firmly said.
“Even if they work as advertised,” the doctor said with a shudder. “I honestly don’t understand why anyone would. I mean, it breaks you down into energy which then gets reconstructed at the destination? I don’t know about you sir, but that sounds a whole like jumping into a molecular furnace which then simply makes a copy of you on the other side.”
“…yeah…that’s what it sounds like to me too…” Thorn said with a shudder. “…anyway…we need to make sure.”
“Sure…?” the doctor asked.
“This could just be a way to get us off Nechayev’s scent.” Thorn explained. “So, conduct your own autopsy, investigation, and everything else you need to do to confirm that that’s her body right there, and the Head of Starfleet Security is dead.”
The doctor nodded. “Leave it to me, sir.” He said.
“Good man.” Thorn nodded, before leaving accompanied by an aide. “On the plus side…with the main knocked out early on…even without Nechayev to interrogate, we have access to the station’s logs and archives. That should prove useful.”
“Federation incompetence…” the aide sniffed. “…it’s a wonder they even fight back.”
“Don’t underestimate them, lieutenant.” Thorn warned. “Both the Federation and this…shadow dictatorship behind it, are getting desperate. And desperation has been known to make geniuses out of fools. It wouldn’t do to come so far only to fail because we got careless.”
“I see your point, sir.”
Thorn nodded, and then gave a small sigh, as his mind turned on the Section 31 conspiracy – or what the Empire knew of it – in full.
Gods above and below, what a mess.
And we have to be the ones to fix it.
Just what the hell did the Empire get into?
That, or the slagged remains of Federation starships.
Hulks and debris drifted across space, dancing with the inertia of the Battle of Earth just weeks, neither the Federation nor Starfleet having the time or resources to conduct even the basic cleanup. Not with the war going on. In the distance, the scarred corpse of the Moon somehow maintained orbit, a gaping blown into its face, its depths glowing a faint red with residual heat.
Ion engines blazed hot as a pair of TIE Fighters flew escort duty, flying alongside a Federation shuttle along a specially-cleared route, and towards the gleaming forms of the Imperial Fleet. Normally, the fleet would be arrayed in parade formation, but given the hazard of the Earth-Luna System, they were instead arrayed protectively, smaller ships screening the larger ships within the formation.
Explosions randomly flared in space as turbolasers blasted debris or hulks that got too close, while those small enough to not be a threat simply dashed themselves harmlessly against the fleet’s navigational deflectors. The fighters and the shuttle flew towards and into the formation, more fighters swooping in to join the escort as they approached the Imperial flagship, the Star Destroyer, Courageous.
The fighters peeled off even as the shuttle slowed, and came to a halt under the Star Destroyer’s cavernous hangar bay. Then it floated up, through the energy field that maintained the hangar’s atmosphere, and then slowly moved forward to the designated landing space, before landing with a soft thud.
Then the shuttle’s door opened, moments before the President of United Earth, Noel Boucher, stepped out, wearing a formal suit. A pair of Starfleet officers accompanied him, a nervous and twitchy lieutenant and a grim-looking read admiral who was the highest-ranking officer left in the Sol System after Fleet Admiral Shanthi and her command staff’s death in the Battle of Mars.
The Empire greeted their presence with all due decorum, Stormtroopers, Imperial Army troops, and even Imperial Navy armsmen in full battle gear standing in disciplined phalanges to either side of the hangar. Closer, and forming an aisle forward between them, there were twin files of Imperial officers standing to attention, the army and navy officers indistinguishable in their olive-grey uniforms, while the Stormtrooper officers stood out in their black uniforms.
Maintaining a stoic air between them, United Earth’s President and the ranking Starfleet officer stepped forward and down the aisle, to where a chair and table had been prepared. Documents and pens lay neatly on the table, while behind the table stood another file of Imperial officers, all flag-ranked, with the Commander of the Imperial Expeditionary Force standing front and center.
Admiral Jaenera of House Targaryen, Viscountess of Summerhall.
It was the first time anyone in the Federation or Starfleet had a full and clear view of the enemy commander, and she struck a beautiful and terrifying sight. Her eyes, especially, with their simply unnatural violet irises that seemed to have an inhuman sharpness to them.
It was enough to bring them up to a halt, and have the Starfleet lieutenant present to swallow dryly. Then bowing to the inevitable, President Boucher sat down, and briefly read the documents waiting for his signature. The words were all in what the Empire – the Coruscanti Humans – called the High Galactic alphabet and the Galactic Basic language, but which he otherwise knew as the Roman alphabet and the English language.
Fighting back the urge to cry, or to rage and leap at the Imperial butcher standing in front of him, President Boucher took the pen provided, and placed his signature at the indicated lines. Then standing, he stepped back, while Rear Admiral Jean-Marc Masse stepped forward in his turn to sit and sign.
After over two hundred years, so ended United Earth, all with a single scrap of paper.
The Instrument of Unconditional Surrender.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Even as United Earth was surrendering to the Galactic Empire, skirmishes continued to take place across the Sol System.
One such skirmish was taking place in interplanetary space near Uranus, where a trio of Imperial Vindictator cruisers were chasing down a Starfleet Prometheus. As much as the Empire hated to admit it, Starfleet warp drives had one advantage over hyperdrive. While so very much slower in comparison, they were much more precise, allowing planet-to-planet jumps which hyperdrive could not do.
At least, not without external assistance, as proven by the Targaryen Gambit.
That said, warp drive also had one major weakness: ships using them didn’t need to have a tracking device to be tracked through subspace. And while the Empire didn’t have – yet – subspace-tracking sensors, their new allies in Orion did. So when Fleet Admiral Nechayev commandeered the newly-completed Prometheus Class Medium Cruiser Mnemosyne, the Empire was quick to respond.
An interdictor cruiser forcibly dragged the Mnemosyne out of warp near Uranus, where an Imperial interception force waited. Almost immediately, the Mnemosyne went to what was called multi-vector assault mode…
…which didn’t really help much when the Empire had both superior numbers and firepower. In addition to the Vindicators and the interdictor, the latter was closely escorted by CR90s corvettes and Carracks. One of the Mnemosyne’s sections was quickly blasted apart by turbolaser fire as it attempted to take out the interdictor, with the second section destroyed as it tried to buy time for the Mnemosyne’s main section to get out of the interdictor’s range.
The three Imperial cruisers gave chase, turbolasers lashing out in precise volleys to knock out the Mnemosyne’s shields. The ship’s crew and computers desperately rerouted power to the shields to try and keep them active longer, but against turbolaser fire it just wasn’t enough.
As the ship’s shields failed, the lead Vindicator fired off a sustained volley from one of its ion cannons. This caused the Mnemosyne’s remaining nacelles to explode as the ship’s primary EPS relays blew out, knocking out main power and the main computer alike. A tractor beam then latched out, drawing the Mnemosyne in for boarding.
Aboard the ship, Section 31 commandoes and Starfleet Security rushed to form defensive positions, while Fleet Admiral Nechayev was hurried to the transporter room. It was a risk, but they needed to get her out of there. There was simply no telling how much the Empire had learned from all the Section 31 captives they’d taken at Orion, and Fleet Admiral Nechayev falling into Imperial hands simply could not be allowed.
Sparks flew from one of the ship’s entryways as Imperial troops began cutting their way into the ship, commandoes and security personnel alike bracing themselves while holding Type-2 and Type-3 Phasers to themselves. Then the door exploded inwards, moments before white-armored Stormtroopers burst in.
Orange pulses flew through the air as the Starfleet personnel opened fire, the leading Stormtroopers falling with cries of pain as their shields and armor failed against concentrated phaser fire. But more Stormtroopers were pouring through, the ones in front going prone to lay down suppressing fire, those behind them adding to the curtain while firing crouched. As more Stormtroopers arrived, they advanced by fire and movement, precise shots taking out any Starfleet personnel who tried to peek out from cover, before thermal detonators cleaned out the Starfleet positions.
The Stormtroopers advanced, leaving their wounded behind to be recovered and taken away for medical assistance. All across the ship, Imperial troops were boarding en masse, with the bridge falling especially quickly after the Stormtroopers blew through the ceiling with demolition charges.
Main engineering fell quickly as well, albeit with heavy Imperial losses: the Stormtroopers accidentally ruptured a plasma line, flooding the engineering space with plasma and killing everyone inside. This eventually forced Imperial engineers to go in with armored suits to close the line and secure the interior.
On the plus side, they were absolutely certain no one was hiding in any of engineering’s spaces, not when the whole place had been flooded with plasma.
Overall, it took only about three hours to fully clean out and secure the ship.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
A punch to the face.
“Where were you going?”
A punch to the gut.
“Where is Fleet Admiral Nechayev?”
A punch to the face.
“What was your plan?”
A punch to the groin.
“Tell us!”
“Fuck you!” the Captain of the Mnemosene spat in his interrogator’s face.
Another interrogator sighed. “Look, captain.” He began. “This doesn’t have to be hard.”
“Do your worst, Imperial dog!” the captain spat again. “I’m not going to talk, so you might as well…!”
He broke off abruptly as the first interrogator punched him in the gut again. “…Imperial…dog…” the captain wheezed. “…I’m…a prisoner of war…where’s your…Alderaan…Conventions…now?”
“The Alderaan Conventions only cover prisoners of war belonging to legitimate military forces.” The second interrogator explained. “And while Starfleet is a legitimate military force, you are Section 31, a group of fringe extremists disavowed by Starfleet and its parent Federation. In short, you’re not covered by the Alderaan Conventions.”
“And in other words,” the first interrogator said, grabbing the captain by the hair and pulling his head back. “You’ve no protections.”
He drew his fist back to strike…
…only to be restrained with a firm hand on his wrist by his fellow interrogator. “Come on, captain.” He began. “This isn’t going to end well for you. So just tell us what you know, and make it easier for yourself. It’s not like there’s much point in holding out, your core worlds have fallen, and the Federation practically done for already.”
“…yeah…sure…keep thinking that way, Imperial dog.” The captain spat, and causing both interrogators to blink in surprise. “But you’ll see soon enough. The Federation’s going to win this war…we’ll bring down your Empire…no way we can lose…regimes like yours always fall before us…history’s on our side…”
The two interrogators looked at each other, with the first one tilting his head. The second one just shook his head, then heading to the door, opened it. “Well…if that’s how you feel…” he said with a sigh. “…then I guess we’d best get serious.”
“Do your worst!” the captain shouted, before his eyes widened as a spherical droid floated into the room.
The second interrogator chuckled. “Oh, we will.” He promised. “And you’ll both wish you’d talked, and that I stayed in charge of interrogating you.”
The door slammed shut, and keeping the screaming inside.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
I looked up from the report I’d received, looking at Sara with wide eyes. And to think I was just about looking forward to watching the victory parade down the Champs Elysees, through the Arc de Triomphe, and watching the Imperial flag fly from the Eiffel Tower.
Damn Section 31.
“Watch Station Argus…” I echoed with a sigh. “…well, I’m not surprised. They did have a prison for political and…cultural, prisoners on Pluto, so it follows they’d have some kind of…listening post, somewhere in Sol monitoring all subspace communications for various purposes.”
“Your orders, ma’am?” Sara said.
“Inform Admiral Tye of the Fifth Battlegroup to detach a force of ships to seize Watch Station Argus.” I said. “Also, when boarding the station, I want Spacetroopers to take the lead.”
Sara’s eyes went wide. “Spacetroopers, ma’am?” she asked in surprise.
“Yes, Spacetroopers.” I confirmed. “I’m not taking any chances. Winning this war is easy enough, just crush Starfleet, force Earth to unconditionally surrender, make treaties with everyone else, and everything else will follow. Winning the peace, though, now that’s hard.”
“With all due respect, ma’am, but is that what Plans Z and MO are for?”
“True…but Section 31’s existence complicates matters…hence a new plan Torrhen and I are currently drafting, Plan Osk.”
“I…see…”
I nodded before narrowing my eyes. “Section 31’s existence,” I continued. “Along with every other…measure, the Federation has resorted to in order to maintain the system of smoke and mirrors to preserve the façade of a utopian society should work to our advantage. Provided we play our cards right, that is.”
Sara blinked and then narrowed her eyes in understanding. “People don’t like being lied.” She said. “I see your point, ma’am.”
“Quite.” I said before gesturing dismissively. “You have your orders, lieutenant.”
Sara stood to attention. “Yes, ma’am!” she said, before turning and leaving. Alone in my office on the Courageous, I relaxed in my seat thoughtfully, before pulling up the data on planetary operations. Most of it was pretty routine, Stormtrooper garrisons being deployed in key areas, along with Imperial Army units in supporting positions.
Others, though…
…well, only preliminary reports were coming in so far, but…resocialization camps in Antarctica, Siberia, the Australian Outback, and other such places?
I knew the Federation was just another authoritarian government pretending to be otherwise, but to go this far…
…even I didn’t think they had it in them.
But…if so…then the Federation isn’t even an authoritarian state at all…not even close…
…it’s a totalitarian state.
Just what kind of future is this?
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Constantly hidden on the opposite side of Neptune from the Sun, Watch Station Argus was a modified Regula-I Class Space Station. Its modifications included reinforced shielding, heavy armor plating, advanced sensor and listening systems, as well as heavy weapons such phaser lances and anti-proton cannons.
One of the latter even crippled a Vindicator Cruiser shortly after it dropped out of hyperspace, with its shields down. Venators immediately returned fire, turbolasers and proton torpedoes hammering Argus Station as the task force hastily raised shields. It took a few moments to bring Argus Station’s shields down, followed by ion cannon strikes to disable its primary systems. Meanwhile assault boats closed in, latched on with magnetic clamps, before using boarding charges to open up passageways into the station.
Section 31 commandoes and new model battle androids quickly set up defensive positions…
…and found themselves facing down the Empire’s best of the best of the best.
“Contact with enemy forces.” A Spacetrooper – officially Zero-G Assault Stormtroopers – sergeant called in. “Engaging.”
Even as he spoke, he was already loading concussion grenades into his shoulder-mounted grenade launchers, while simultaneously taking aim. Then he fired, his shields easily tanking Type-3 Phaser fire, before the enemy position collapsed from the artillery volley. The rest of the squad was already mopping up, with short and precisely-targeted bursts from gauntlet-mounted blasters.
Proximity sensors sounded the alarm, and the sergeant responded on instinct, blocking a melee attack by a droid of some kind. Briefly grappling with the humanoid machine, the sergeant slammed into the nearest bulkhead with enough force to crumple the metal, before using laser cutters to cut the droid apart.
“Be advised.” He called in again. “Enemy forces include battle droids. Moving to objective.”
The Spacetroopers moved on, turning a corner and advancing down a corridor detected the enemy dug in to form a crossfire up ahead. Gas grenades were launched in response, blood toxins quickly crippling if not outright killing the Section 31 commandoes, while also obscuring line of sight.
“Launching proton torpedo.” The sergeant said. “Brace!”
“Braced!” the squad responded, deploying magnetic locks.
The sergeant fired his torpedo, and blew out an entire bulkhead. Men screamed as they were dragged screaming into space, but several of the Federation droids were able to secure themselves.
The Spacetroopers advanced, blasters shooting the remaining droids to pieces, before cutting their way through a blast door. Alarms screamed as the air beyond began to be sucked out, but the Spacetroopers ignored it.
“Approaching objective.” The sergeant said. “Standby.”
Another blast door blocked their way, and again the Spacetroopers cut through it. Phaser blasted at them, Section 31 commandoes and droids falling back as the air was sucked out, the Spacetroopers returning fire with their blasters. Most of the commandoes were already dead by the time the air was gone, leaving them to asphyxiate as the last of the droids were put down.
“Objective secured.” The sergeant said, he and most of the squad forming a perimeter while the squad tech specialist accessed the local systems and disengaged the lockdown.
“Access Port 12 is secure.” He reported.
“Acknowledged.” The sergeant replied. “Standing by for reinforcements.”
“Reinforcements inbound.” The response came from tactical command.
“Acknowledged.”
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
ISB Agent Hiram Thorn didn’t look happy. And why would he be? He’d come all the way to Neptune in anticipation of actually interrogating a Section 31 member as highly ranked as a Starfleet Fleet Admiral…
…only to be badly disappointed.
“So…this is Fleet Admiral Nechayev…?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.” The navy doctor said, looking very ill. Thorn couldn’t blame him. Who knew that trying to conduct an emergency transport through an active mass gravity shadow was a bad idea?
Nechayev had apparently been fused to the floor on one of Argus Station’s transporter rooms, forcing Section 31 to literally disassemble the room to get her out. And that was only the first of the transporter mishap’s…effects…
…for one thing, Nechayev’s skin and uniform had somehow exchanged places, with her uniform where her skin should be, and leaving her wearing her own skin on top. Thankfully, the fleet admiral had died in the botched transport, as the autopsy report proved.
Apparently, the botched transport had completely rearranged her brain, which had resembled that of the electronics of her tricorder, while her bones had included alloys and polymer compounds from the floor plating she’d been fused into.
“…they’re never getting me to use any of those…things.” Thorn firmly said.
“Even if they work as advertised,” the doctor said with a shudder. “I honestly don’t understand why anyone would. I mean, it breaks you down into energy which then gets reconstructed at the destination? I don’t know about you sir, but that sounds a whole like jumping into a molecular furnace which then simply makes a copy of you on the other side.”
“…yeah…that’s what it sounds like to me too…” Thorn said with a shudder. “…anyway…we need to make sure.”
“Sure…?” the doctor asked.
“This could just be a way to get us off Nechayev’s scent.” Thorn explained. “So, conduct your own autopsy, investigation, and everything else you need to do to confirm that that’s her body right there, and the Head of Starfleet Security is dead.”
The doctor nodded. “Leave it to me, sir.” He said.
“Good man.” Thorn nodded, before leaving accompanied by an aide. “On the plus side…with the main knocked out early on…even without Nechayev to interrogate, we have access to the station’s logs and archives. That should prove useful.”
“Federation incompetence…” the aide sniffed. “…it’s a wonder they even fight back.”
“Don’t underestimate them, lieutenant.” Thorn warned. “Both the Federation and this…shadow dictatorship behind it, are getting desperate. And desperation has been known to make geniuses out of fools. It wouldn’t do to come so far only to fail because we got careless.”
“I see your point, sir.”
Thorn nodded, and then gave a small sigh, as his mind turned on the Section 31 conspiracy – or what the Empire knew of it – in full.
Gods above and below, what a mess.
And we have to be the ones to fix it.
Just what the hell did the Empire get into?